The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) (17 page)

The man was clearly drunk; Tomas could smell the spirits on his breath, even from across the room. The only thing left to do to keep the innkeeper from causing a stir was to restrain him; otherwise he might run through the village, knocking on doors, condemning the entire De’Fathi family as murderers.

“Master Elwin, it is very important that you let me explain what has happened. I promise I won’t hurt you. How long have you known me,
Old One
? Have I ever been the type to cause trouble?”

“No,” the innkeeper said quietly. “But you have to see things from my angle. There’s corpses in the room and you’re holding a bloody sword in your hands. I might not be a learned man, but I know enough not to trust someone I just saw cut the heads off of two innocent people I’ve known their whole lives!”

Tomas sighed. The man was going to make this far more difficult than it needed to be. Of course he understood how Master Elwin felt; he would feel the same way if he walked into a room and saw what the old man had seen. It was impossible to witness such an atrocity without first knowing the
why
of it. Unfortunately, that was something most people would never come to grasp in their lifetimes, and Tomas had to get back to his father as soon as he could. There would be no stopping word from spreading come morning, and Philip De’Fathi was the only man who could help the villagers make sense of—

His last thought was cut short by the bellow of horns sounding from outside. Tomas had never heard such a racket in his life, but it sounded to him like more danger coming his way.

“What in the bloody hell is that?” Master Elwin yelled.

“Gods man, I don’t know, but you better find a cellar or empty room to hide in.”

“I will not stay in the same place as bleeding corpses,” he replied. You can’t make me do such a thing!”

“Then whatever is out
there
will likely turn you into a corpse just like those two!” Tomas said sternly. “Now find someplace safe and stay there! I’m going to see what I can find out!”

Tomas didn’t wait for a response from the drunken old man. He turned and ran for the door, leaving the innkeeper alone with the bodies of Elsa and Jaimen. Only moments ago, he had been convinced that this night could not get any worse.

Now he didn’t believe it would ever get any better.

––––––––

V
ALTHIAN STOPPED dead in his tracks and looked around. Horns had sounded, seemingly out of nowhere, and then the first rider appeared in the distance. At first, the young lord thought that he was in the grip of one of those recurring nightmares that plagued his sleep, but this was
real
. The frozen ground crunched beneath his feet as he shook off the initial shock and started running again. The cold air nipped at his arms, neck, and face as he worked to put distance between himself and the rider.

This was no dream. It was very real.

Valthian tried to duck down a side street, but more riders awaited him, so he kept moving along the path leading to the burning schoolhouse.

Were these men behind that?

He was not one to make assumptions, but it seemed too much of a coincidence. These could have been raiders, coming to steal whatever they could from a village of farmers. They likely did not know that a lord of Vinter’s Edge lived among the farmers, but true raiders would not care to lose a few men over the chance of obtaining an even greater bounty from a family of wealthy nobles.

He just managed to dodge out of the way of a large man clad in full armor. The bandit rode past him without notice and stopped at a small hut, raising a flaming torch high and tossing it onto neatly stacked bales of hay that sat upon the small wooden porch. The hay smoldered and burst into flames. It only took a moment for the fire to spread to the hut. He heard the man bark a curse through the thick steel helmet he was wearing before riding off again.

Valthian gasped. The king’s men should have been keeping away bandits! Of course, Valthian was aware that Randil’s soldiers had been busy dealing with the aftermath of Grovenwell and Faire’s Wake. They had discovered those bodies burning and—

And then it hit him. Men in armor were riding through Solstice, setting homes on fire. No one was stealing anything. These weren’t raiders. The color of their armor—

These were King Randil’s soldiers! They hadn’t discovered those bodies burning in the neighboring villages. The soldiers
themselves
had been responsible. But why would they take innocent lives?

He made the decision right there not to let these men ride into Solstice and destroy what his family had helped build over the years. He did not care if the king himself, or someone else entirely, sent these soldiers. For all he gave a damn, the gods themselves could have commanded them to come here!

Valthian drew his sword and ducked behind a tree. There were now more men on horseback than he could count, and frightened villagers were emerging from their homes, wild-eyed and screaming.  He saw one of the men ride close and he lunged from his hiding spot, slashing with his sword. He didn’t penetrate the armor, but the soldier fell from his horse, hitting the ground hard. While he was still stunned, Valthian ran to him, and immediately spotting a gap just above the breastplate, plunged his sword deep into his neck.

There was no time to worry about fighting honorably; these bastards aimed to destroy Solstice, and there wasn’t a thing that honor could do to stop it.

“Valthian!” A familiar voice boomed over the blaring horns and deafening clatter of shoed hooves. “Behind you!”

He spun around and dodged a polearm, then swung his sword with a single fluid motion. This one had not been wearing a helmet, and the force of the swing relieved him of his head.

“Father,” he called upon recognizing the speaker. “There is no hope of holding them off! We’re all going to die!”

Philip De’Fathi nodded and motioned for Valthian to follow. He caught up to his father and the two men ducked into an alleyway that was still free of horsemen.

“We need to save your mother,” Philip said, panting heavily.

“I sent her away. She and Elyna should be gone by now.”

“Where?”

“Molhadius,” Valthian replied. “I don’t have time to explain, but if they did what they were told, chances are good that they managed to escape.”

“And your brother?” Philip asked. “He had business at the inn.”

Valthian shook his head. “I have not seen him. The inn was completely dark when I checked.”

The sound of flames licking against the wooden planks of countless homes could be heard over the charging of soldiers, telling Valthian that there would be nothing left of the village to save by the time the king’s men finished the job. The screaming was growing louder as well. He had sworn to protect these people, but what could two men do against hundreds? Why had so many soldiers been sent to such an insignificant place that was surrounded by nothing more than forest in every direction?

“What is happening here?” The voice came seemingly out of nowhere. Its owner stepped onto the road from a small building with a freshly painted sign hanging just above the open door, which signified the baker’s shop.

It was Tomas, Valthian realized with a sudden pang of joy.

“I had to hide in here when I saw the armed men approach. I saw the two of you hanging about outside through the window. Now get in here before you get yourselves killed. We have to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve us all dying!”

* * *

A
bytheos stepped into the old church and closed the doors behind him. He had hoped to stay longer before such a catastrophe took place, but it was sometimes necessary to improvise when opportunities were presented. The fools of this village had seemed content with battling the dead than listening to his words, and that is why the plan had to be altered.

He had become a hard man in order to accomplish the tasks set forth by the one true god, but he still could not bring himself to revel in the deaths of innocent people; the women and children were especially difficult for him. Still, the book commanded him to obey, and he was compelled to please the One-God. He found a great deal of relief in the knowledge that those who must give their lives in order for the world to become a perfect paradise would be granted eternal rest for their sacrifices. These villager’s contributions would not go unnoticed.

He found a candle and lit it to help him find his way. The item in which he sought had to be here. The great book had told him that it would be hidden in one of three places, and Abytheos had already searched the other two. If Holy Scripture had not lied to him—he knew in his heart that the words rang true—it would be buried beneath the floorboards. He simply had to find a loose plank and pull it free.

The screams of the dying were faint from inside the walls of the church, but he could still hear Solstice being destroyed, plank-by-plank, and stone-by-stone.

Abytheos entered the meager worship hall and paused, removing from his pocket the ancient book that so often called upon him. It felt right in his hands, confirming to him that he had been meant to own it since its creation. Just feeling the simple leather cover against his fingers brought immeasurable joy.

Opening the book to the page containing important instructions detailing how to proceed, he began to read. No one would have the power to keep him from cleansing the world of sin once the two artifacts he sought were in his possession. For now, he must concentrate on finding the key to discovering them.

* * *

“W
e haven’t much time,” Philip said. “So please listen to me very carefully. I want the two of you to escape. Find an opening where the soldiers are scarce and take it.”

Valthian stepped closer. “What about you? I will not leave you behind.”

Philip smiled warmly. “I plan to turn myself in. It should buy the two of you some time. If your mother is truly escaping as you say, then perhaps it will buy her a few more precious moments. Who knows, maybe they will have mercy on me; I haven’t done anything to provoke them.”

Tomas laughed.  “You don’t truly believe that, do you, father? No one else has done anything to provoke them either, and they’re destroying the village! If you surrender, they’ll gut you and put your head on a pike!”

He was proud of both his children; the lads were smart and quite capable. They knew what would happen to him just as well as he did, and there was no way he could make them believe otherwise. But it was his choice to make, and he would choose to save his boys over himself without question.

“We are all going to be killed either way. What would you have me do? I will not see the two of you meet the same fate as everyone else.”

“Perhaps we could escape together,” Valthian said. Philip detected a small thread of hope in his tone. “We can ride from here together.”

“No, my son. Someone has to try to put an end to this madness. Please do as I say before even more people are killed!”

Tomas shook his head. “But—”

“He is right,” Valthian said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Perhaps he can save whatever is left of Solstice.”

Tomas looked as though he might protest further, but Philip glared at him  and the boy kept silent.

“I make this promise to you,” Philip said. “I will do my best to find the one in charge of this attack. If he looks to be honorable, I will surrender. If for one moment I feel that my life is in danger, I will turn and run from this place just the same as you. Do you trust my words?”

Both young men nodded and Philip was relieved. He wanted them away from the danger as quickly as possible. They were of no use to the village dead, and besides, it was his duty as a father to protect them. No man wanted to witness the murder of his children. It was every father’s dream for his young ones to outlive him.

“Then go now, before time is no longer our friend—if it ever was. I want you to go in separate directions and meet up at Eastern Pass. Your mother should be on her way to Molhadius, and I want you to find her. If the leader of this pack is truly one of Randil’s men, I should be able to reason with him. There is a good chance that he is not aware that Solstice is under the protection of a lord of Vintermore. I do not hold the same influence as other lords, but our family is of noble blood just the same. It should be enough.”

“He has a point, Tomas. We have to go before the situation worsens. I want you to go north. Remember the place in the forest where we used to play as children?”

“I remember it well,” Tomas whispered.

“Good. Wait there for me. I will head southeast. I know of many places that provide adequate coverage. Once I am out of the village, I will meet you in our old spot. Agreed?”

“I suppose, Val.”

Philip watched as his sons made their plans. He hugged them both and wished them a safe journey. Once they had ducked back into the alley, Philip picked up thick scrap of linen cloth from the table to use as his flag of surrender. The screams were getting closer to the baker’s shop, which meant that the soldiers were nearly upon him. He said a quick prayer, asking any of the gods that might be listening to protect his sons. Once he was sure the boys were far enough away from the baker’s shop, Philip stepped out unto the street, searching through the haze of battle for the leader of these dogs. He sincerely hoped that his death would be slow enough to buy some time for his family. Perhaps he could prolong it enough to help them escape from the cursed place that had once been their beloved home.

––––––––

V
ALTHIAN LET his brother believe that they would both escape, but the young lord had other plans. Tomas would hopefully find an easy enough route out of the village, but Valthian could not run away while his father perished. He was old enough to understand what the man intended. Of course, any father who was half the man Philip De’Fathi was would have done the same for his family.

He believed a good son should be held to the same standards.

The speed at which Philip was moving was surprising; at first, tracking the man had been difficult. It had only been a few minutes since they left the bakery, but the man was already on his way to certain death. For a moment, it seemed as though his father was lost in the fighting, but Valthian finally remembered his combat training. In many lands, the leader of an army would ride into battle at the front of his army. The custom was different in Vintermore. Here, the one in charge of the fighting would ride on the outskirts of the battle, encircled by his personal guard. Since it had appeared to him that the soldiers had come from every direction at once, he was sure that the leader of this throng of killers was positioned on the main road. After all, attacking villagers did not call for much in the way of strategy, which meant that the commander regarded what he was doing as a simple task; no more difficult than sweeping so much dust under a rug. Such a man would have no qualms waiting on the road leading into Solstice while his soldiers of death rained judgment upon the innocent.