The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (8 page)

“Move into the circle!” growled one of those who had captured him.

Mendeln stumbled toward the others. Those nearest immediately shunned him, pressing against their fellows in their fear. Even those who had known him since childhood looked at Mendeln as if he were some sort of pariah.

Or rather, the
brother
of one.

“That’s him,” said the same guard who had shoved the younger son of Diomedes forward.

Mendeln turned to face a guard who, although he was a couple of inches shorter than the farmer, stared down the latter with ease. The broad, rough-hewn face looked more appropriate on a brigand than a representative of a holy order.

“The brother of the heretic and sorcerer, are you?” demanded the lead guard in a tone that indicated no response from Mendeln was necessary. “Where is Uldyssian ul-Diomed? Answer now and you may be spared his fate!”

“Uldyssian’s done nothing!”

“His guilt is proved, his mastery of arts foul unquestionable! His soul is lost, but yours may yet receive absolution! You have but to give him up to us!”

The words sounded absurd to Mendeln, but the guard clearly believed everything that he said to the brother. Despite the fact that he would be condemning himself, Mendeln did not hesitate to shake his head.

“We will begin with you, then…and the rest here, all known to have fraternized with the heretic, will learn from your example!”

Just as quickly as they had tossed him in among the others, the guards then pulled Mendeln out. They dragged him to an open space. As the farmer was forced down on his knees, he saw the lead guard stride over to his horse, there to remove a long, braided whip rolled up and attached to the saddle. The guard undid the loop binding the whip, enabling the full length of the sinister weapon to flow free. He tested the whip once, the crack it made shaking Mendeln worse than the harshest thunder.

Face resolute, the lead guard headed back to Mendeln, who squeezed his eyes tight and prepared for the agony…

It was a coincidence. That was all. A coincidence.

But as Uldyssian stared toward Seram, a niggling doubt ate away at him from within. He recalled again how terrible Lylia’s ankle had looked…and then how unmarred it had appeared but moments afterward. There was the horrific storm that had assailed the village just as Brother Mikelius had begun condemning him. What were the odds of lightning striking so perfectly?

A coincidence!
Uldyssian told himself again.
No more!

Yet, even he was not entirely convinced of that.

The farmer continued to stand there, unable to decide what to do. Then, a face came unbidden into his thoughts, a face he knew as well as his own.

Mendeln’s…and with it came a sense of urgency, of impending threat.

With a wordless cry, Uldyssian started back to Seram.

“Uldyssian!” called Lylia. “What is it?”

“My brother! Mendeln—” was all he could say. The need to reach the village before something terrible happened to Mendeln took over. Uldyssian did not question how he knew that his brother was in danger. All that mattered was preventing Mendeln from coming to harm, even if it meant being recaptured.

Without warning, figures appeared before him. Uldyssian prepared himself for a struggle…then recognized Achilios and Serenthia.

“Uldyssian!” blurted the trader’s daughter. “Praise be that you are all right!”

The archer, too, started to speak, but, despite being glad to see them, Uldyssian did not slow. He sensed that time was running out. Without apology, the farmer shoved past the pair, each frantic beat of his heart a scream to hurry faster.

The edge of the village came into sight. His hopes rose.

But then, from further in echoed a sharp, cracking sound that sent a shock of pain through Uldyssian’s heart.

Gritting his teeth, his breath now coming in pants, the son of Diomedes charged into Seram.

The sight that met his gaze filled him with loathing and anger. He saw many of his fellow villagers herded together like cattle, their expressions fear and confusion. Grim Inquisitor guards pointed weapons at them.

But worse, so very much worse, was what the villagers watched. Near the ruined well, the lead Inquisitor guard had Mendeln down on his knees. Another armored figure made certain that Uldyssian’s brother could not rise. Someone had torn open the back of Mendeln’s tunic and now a long, red ribbon decorated the latter’s spine.

A red ribbon made by the long, scaled whip of the lead guard.

The officer at last noticed Uldyssian, then readied the whip for another strike.

“Surrender yourself, Uldyssian ul-Diomed, or you will force me to cause your brother more suffering!”

His twisted words—insisting that it would be
Uldyssian’s
fault if Mendeln was again whipped—only made the farmer more furious. He wanted to lash out at them the way that they dared lash out at his brother—

The length of the officer’s whip curled up in the air, as if blown by some sudden gust of wind. Startled, he tugged at it, trying to bring it down, but the sinewy cord instead tangled around his neck.

He reached to pull it off, but the whip suddenly tightened. The officer’s eyes went wide and he let go of the grip in order to tear at the whip with both hands. A hacking sound escaped him.

The guard nearest Mendeln rushed to aid his commander, at the same time working to sheath his own weapon. However, his hand suddenly turned, causing the blade to rise above the sheath. Somehow, the blade bent—and buried itself upward, just beneath the breastplate.

Blood spilling over his hands, the stunned guard collapsed into the officer, whose eyes were bulging as he now clawed in desperation at the macabre noose. The wounded guard finally slumped next to Mendeln, who stumbled away in shock. A second later, the officer let out a last gasp and joined his companion. The whip remained tight around his throat.

“Uldyssian!” called Lylia from somewhere behind him. “Beware the others!”

He glanced to the side to see the remaining Inquisitor guards converging on his position. A part of Uldyssian wanted to flee, but his fury still dominated. He glared at the armed men, who terrorized in the name of their holy sect.

One man stumbled. His sword arm turned—

The edge of his blade expertly cut through the throat of the guard next to him. The second man let out a gurgle and fell. As he did, he dropped his own weapon, which somehow tangled the feet of another guard. That man spun around, then hit the hard ground skull-first. There was an audible snap and the Inquisitor stilled, his head now lying at an awkward angle.

But now the rest of the guards surrounded Uldyssian, who eyed them as he would have the vermin that sought to devour his crops. In his mind they were no more than that. The farmer recalled when once he had discovered a cache of grain infested with such. He had done the only thing that he could to keep the creatures from spreading. He had
burned
the cache, burned it with the vermin still inside…

Burned
them…

The foremost guard cried out. He dropped his sword and stared in horror at his hand, which was blackening before the eyes of all. In but a single breath, the flesh cindered and the muscle and sinew turned to ash. Even the bone darkened and darkened until
nothing
remained.

And as he befell the fate of his hand, the guard himself suffered so. His face shriveled and his body shook, even his armor tarnishing as if tossed into a coal-fueled inferno. He screamed, but his scream was cut off as his tongue crumbled.

The eyes vanished then, melting into the sockets with horrible finality. The crumbling black figure collapsed in a heap of bones that further smoked away to dust.

His comrades had no time to gape in fear at his fate, for they perished at the same time. Their brief cries were shrill and their deaths were marked by the clatter of empty armor and lost weaponry.

Only after they were all dust did Uldyssian return to his senses…and stare at a monstrous sight he could not even at that point fully link to himself. Yet, neither could the farmer deny the fiery urge that had swept through him, the urge he had focused on the hapless men.

An unnatural silence filled Seram. Uldyssian finally tore his gaze from the macabre remains and looked at his brother, who stood but a few lengths from him. Panting, still obviously in some pain from the harsh lash of the whip, Mendeln gaped at his older sibling.

“Uldyssian…” he finally succeeded in whispering.

But Uldyssian now looked past Mendeln to where the rest of the villagers still stood packed together even though their captors were all dead. He saw no relief in their eyes, but only what the farmer recognized as
dread
.

Dread of him…

Murmuring arose from within the group. When Uldyssian stretched forth a hand toward them, they moved as one away from his touch.

That, in turn, caused Uldyssian to retreat a step. He looked around and saw that other villagers had stepped out from hiding. Faces he had known all his life now eyed him as the former prisoners had.

“I didn’t
do
anything…” he murmured, more to himself than others. “I didn’t do
anything…”
The son of Diomedes protested louder.

But the people of Seram saw him differently, he knew. They now believed that he
had
slaughtered both missionaries. How could they not? Before their eyes, one man had been struck by lightning, another strangled by his own weapon, and the rest brought down in manners no one could ever claim ordinary.

Uldyssian spotted Tibion. He stepped toward the owner of the Boar’s Head. The old man had been as near a father to him as anyone since the death of Diomedes. Tibion could at least see sense—

The stout figure backed away, his stony expression not entirely hiding the revulsion and anxiety. He mutely shook his head.

Someone tugged on his sleeve. Mendeln. Wincing from pain, his brother whispered, “Uldyssian…come away from here. Quickly!”

“I’ve got to make them see
sense,
Mendeln! They can’t possibly believe—”

“They
believe
. I think even
I
believe. That doesn’t matter! Look around! You’re not Uldyssian to them anymore! You’re the fiend that the Cathedral’s Master Inquisitor claimed you to be! That’s all that they see!”

Brow wrinkled tight, Uldyssian glanced from one direction to another. All he saw were the same dark emotions.

Dorius reappeared…and with him Tiberius. The captain had his arm in a sling and there was a gash on his right cheek. Behind the pair came the men who had been ordered to lock up the headman in his own quarters.

Captain Tiberius was the one who finally spoke to Uldyssian. “Keep perfectly still. Don’t do a damned thing, Uldyssian, except put your hands behind you—”

“I’m not the cause of all this!” the farmer insisted, knowing all the while that his protests were as futile as ever. “You just have to listen to me—”

“There’re archers positioned,” Dorius anxiously interrupted. “Please listen to reason, Uldyssian…”

The farmer shook. No one would listen to him. He was surrounded by insanity. They saw in Uldyssian a murderer, a monster.

Distracted by his own turmoil, he almost did not notice a subtle motion by Tiberius. The headman’s words returned to him. Archers. Those who had once been his friends would rather kill him than understand his predicament.

“No!” Uldyssian cried out. “No!”

The ground shook. People toppled over. Something whistled past his ear.

As the tremor overtook Seram, a hand pulled Uldyssian away. It was not Mendeln’s, however, but Lylia’s.

“This is our only chance! Come!”

Unable—and unwilling—to think anymore, he allowed her to guide him out of the village. Although those around them seemed unable to keep their footing, neither the farmer nor the noblewoman had any difficulty.

Someone shouted his name. Despite Lylia’s tugging, Uldyssian looked back and saw Mendeln on all fours. His brother was trying to follow, but suffered the same trouble as the rest of Seram.

Ignoring Lylia’s protest, he went back for Mendeln. Mendeln took his hand and suddenly found his footing. Holding tight, Uldyssian led his brother from the chaos.

“Horses!” Mendeln shouted above the din. “We need horses!”

Uldyssian was about to argue that they had no time to secure even one animal let alone five, when suddenly a horse raced ahead of them. It was followed by several more, all bearing the saddles of the Cathedral of Light. They raced directly into the woods…and straight into the waiting hands of Achilios.

Skilled in dealing with animals, the hunter easily brought under control three. Serenthia managed to catch another, but let a fifth escape.

Uldyssian paused before the hunter, the two lifelong friends reading into each other’s gazes.

“We must be away from here,” Achilios finally said, thrusting the reins of two horses toward the farmer. “Away until they come to their senses.”