Necrophobia (7 page)

Alvis Razakel stood up, his breathing problems gone in a flash, his weariness faded as if it had never been there. “I don’t need magic to trick you. I don’t need to cast illusions when you delude yourself. You were where I wanted you, not the other way around. You’re finished Morveil.” He released his grip on the statue’s face and smiled. With a flick of his wrist the petrified Morveil floated before him as it had done in his unlife. Using both hands, the sorcerer clasped his hands together and then tore them free. The statue shattered into a million pieces and fell into the snow.

“Impressive, Alvis. Truly.” Haures shouted without turning around. “I can’t thank you enough. Do you have any idea how irritating that man is? How disgusting and cruel? I’d grown tired of his watchful eyes. You’ve done me a favour I won’t forget. His immortality posed quite a problem for me but you’ve found a way around that. Quite ingenious.”

“Give it up Haures.” Razakel replied walking towards the Inquisitor.

“If it were only that simple. I don’t have a choice.”

“You do. Cease this madness. You’re alone.”

“To be an Inquisitor is to make difficult decisions. To make sacrifices for the greater good. You know this.”

“Oh please.” Razakel sneered in contempt. “They all say that. Any excuse to justify their own self-interest.”

“I’ve always respected your wisdom, your talent for magic. But it seems you’re selling me short. Everything I have ever done has been for the greater good.”

He rose to his feet and raised both his hands above his head. The energy coalescing around the dragon swirled downwards into the slain creature and its eyes opened. The dragon’s eyes and mouth burned with emerald flame as it rose to its feet with newfound purpose. The leathery black wings twitched and stretched behind it casting a huge shadow across them all.

“By the gods!” He breathed.

Claire couldn’t take her eyes off the dragon, even in death its regal posture and former nobility shone through. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying and it drew all her attention as she watched in horror. It was for this reason that she failed to notice the enthralled cultist creeping up behind her until his dagger erupted through her stomach. She fell forwards into the snow; wracked in pain as her consciousness faded. The last thing she saw was a bolt of lightning explode over her head into her killer and Razakel running towards her. His old face stricken with concern and behind him the approaching glint of silver-grey metal. Then her vision went black and the cold rushed up to meet her.

CHAPTER TWO

Claire awoke inside the Temple-Stronghold wrapped in bandages and tucked into the thermal blankets of the hospital beds. The ward was overcrowded and filled with injured men and women awaiting treatment. Outside the blizzard raged and rattled the thick glass windows. The pain in her abdomen a constant nagging source of discomfort, she sat up with difficulty as her vision cleared.

“You look awful.” A voice declared in a matter of fact tone.

“Cynthia?”

She rubbed her eyes clear and the grinning face of Cynthia sat in a chair beside her bed resolved itself, leaning back reading a tattered old book with the title missing or hidden. Claire suspected it may have been a tawdry romance novel and Cynthia’s sudden expression of guilt when she caught her eye confirmed it.

“Don’t give me that look.” She looked away and stashed the book inside her rucksack.

“What happened?”

“Well, we arrived just as the dragon came back to life, and you got stabbed.” Her green eyes glanced at Claire’s bandages. “Razakel managed to reach you in time to work some of his fancy magic. Sister Elisa sent him away so he’d stop bothering her patients, and her patience.”

Overwhelmed by curiosity Claire pulled away at the bandages to reveal nothing. Any trace of the injury vanished leaving only a flat slightly blood-stained stomach and a nagging pain where it should have been.

Cynthia let out a low whistle. “Trust me. To heal a wound that deep without a trace? I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes. Healing is one of the most delicate, precise and unreliable magics there is. Just ask any of the sisters.”

Claire could believe it, she’d heard horror stories of healers in practice and their magic gone wrong; given a choice medicine was a safer bet. Few people opted for magical healing except in the most dire of circumstances.

“And the dragon? The Inquisitor?”

“Easy now.” She sighed. “They put up a fight but when the fight turned to our favour he turned tail and fled on the dragon. Flew right across the ocean.”

“Any idea which direction?”

“Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” She chuckled to herself. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”

So they spoke for a while as Claire recounted the tale of the wolverine and the trek through the mountains as more injured Caelites and monks were found beds and treated by the priests and priestesses. Cynthia sat attentive and listened, eager to catch up with her old friend. As children they’d been close but the years and differing life styles let them drift apart. After the tale was told Cynthia shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re still rushing headfirst into danger even after all these years.”

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Claire countered, the pain in her abdomen spiking without warning. “I couldn’t walk away, not when I was close enough to help.”

The Caelite shrugged and they watched two healers carry in a wounded Caelite on stretchers and taken into the siderooms.

“I shouldn’t be here I’m taking up a bed I don’t need. I’m fine.”

“It’s a precaution. Still when you’re better Knight-Commander Rhae wishes to speak with you.”

“I’ll live. Where is she?”

Cynthia’s eyebrow raised in her usual told-you-so expression. “That wound still hurts doesn’t it. You’re trying to hide it but I can tell. Give it an hour or so, she’s still in a meeting with the Captains.”

The Caelite rose and grabbed her bag and with a side-along glance. “Still, it was good seeing you again.”

“You too. Lighten up, you’re beginning to sound like captain Reiner.” Claire smiled watching the horrified expression on her friend’s face.

“Nonsense. He’s a good captain and I won’t hear otherwise.” She replied louder than usual. Cynthia surreptitiously checked around the crowded hospital room for eavesdroppers and leaned closer, her voice now a hushed whisper. “Does that man ever smile? He’s so driven to excel - I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so serious.”

“In that family I think his brother inherited their entire share of humour, but he does smile sometimes. You’ve just got to catch him off-guard.”

She bade her farewells and left as the revered sister Elisa stormed towards her. Elisa was a tall powerfully built woman with greying curled hair and dark brown skin and high cheekbones. She walked with a slight limp and wrapped in the purple thick robes of the monks lined with white trimming and religious symbols stitched into it.

“Good you’re awake. Let’s take a look at you.” With a firm hand she guided Claire back onto the bed and investigated the bandages. “Hmph. Looks like that’s healed nicely. How do you feel?” Elisa’s narrowed brown eyes bored into her unblinking and focused.

“Aches a bit but nothing serious.” Claire conceded. It was clear Elisa would get the truth from her one way or another so there was little point in fighting it.

She stood up straight, her shoulders back and proud. “Good. You seem fine to me, you’re free to go. If the wound reappears or you have any other problems you come see me, you hear? I can’t be having with rampant sorcerers roaming around casting who knows what on my patients. You understand?”

Claire nodded and thanked her as she left the hospital. She saw little reason to defend herself or explain she hadn’t chosen to be healed by Razakel or as a slight towards her. Elisa was an old and proud healer, famed for saving hundreds of lives over the decades and feared for the lengths she’d go to defend her hospital or practice.

“One last thing.” Elisa called out. If ever there was a voice that could stop someone in their tracks — this was it. “You’ve got a visitor outside.”

Said visitor turned out to be her father, half-soaked in melted snow and overcome with joy at the sight of her. He rushed towards her and hugged tight, his grip like a vice.

“Easy. Less bear hugs please.”

“Sorry.” His laughter high-pitched and fraught with nerves. “Just worried that’s all. If anything had happened to you I—”

“--I’m alright.” She looked up into his big worried chestnut-brown eyes as he wiped them. “It looks worse than it is.”

“What happened? Last I heard you went off after that wolverine and next thing I know you’re fighting dragons.” Jorge grinned, his face beaming with pride.

“I’ll tell you all about it.”

Upstairs on the highest floor, the Captains congregated in the meeting room discussing the events of that afternoon and bickering amongst themselves. With the temple purged of all intruders and the bodies being identified and processed some semblance of normalcy returned. Many lives both civilian and within the priesthood had been lost, including Captain Carmine. Captain Falkner was presumed dead until they could find his body. Several areas were damaged heavily during the fighting and would require repairs and craftsman to be shipped in from the mainland. The mortuary was under heavy guard at all times, once cleared of undead it became apparent some of the cultists had burrowed into the mortuary using the ancient network of mine shafts and caverns burrowed beneath the mountain range.

“What I want to know is how they got through the enchantments.” Olivia demanded. “I checked those yesterday and they were all intact. Anyone coming through the walls should have been vaporised.”

“You’re sure?” Reiner asked, steepling his fingers as he listened to the Captains bickering. The Commander watched with interest, mild irritation flickering on her face, whenever tensions flared.

“Yes I’m sure Soranus. I went through all hundred and twenty-eight of the rites and rituals. I’d remember something like that.” She glared at him.

He’d learnt since their last meeting that her younger brother had died in the assault, her grief was raw and tangible. They’d only found out upon returning from the burial tombs. He moderated his tone with care.

“I am not blaming or accusing you Olivia. I wish to be sure. Inquisitor Haures and his cultists made a grave error coming here.” He cursed himself internally at his poor choice of words, though no one seemed to have noticed. Too wrapped up in their own thoughts.

“I’ll second that.” Captain Lewis spoke up. Offering a dour nod to Reiner before slumping back into his chair. His grizzled face scrunched up in focus and a fresh set of cuts marked his left cheeks.

“It’s my understanding.” Amelia cut in, her fingers skimming through a dusty tome on her desk. “That all underground passage ways beneath the stronghold were flooded or collapsed. Well over a hundred years ago in fact.”

“Flooding wouldn’t have deterred any undead but the cultists and the Inquisitor seemed alive to me. Perhaps they found a way to drain it?” Reiner asked, feeling very self-conscious as the commander and the other captains turned towards him.

“They’d have to know about them first.” Laelia replied after several uncomfortable seconds. “I suppose they could have used old mining records and maps from the abandoned Spellstone mines. They run close by.”

“That hasn’t answered my question.” Olivia shouted, slamming a gauntleted fist upon the table drawing their attention. “Even if they knew about the mining tunnels we’ve still prepared for that with defensive enchantments. None of which activated.”

“Captain Stavros, calm yourself please. We will get to the bottom of this, I assure you.” Amelia replied, her voice steady. Olivia shrunk back down into her chair and avoided eye-contact.

“This has clearly been planned for some time.” Reiner said, stroking his chin. “The sheer number of cultists we faced, getting them onto the island or recruiting them would be difficult without leaving traces. It shows time and resources. I suspect the traitor-Inquisitor Haures is behind most of those, the Inquisition may have copies of those mining records. It may also have its own Intel on our defences.”