CITY OF BRIDGES

8

Mischief in Delta

“There’s a half-rrell involved master. I sense she knows something,” Rodi said. Picking himself up from the temple floor, he wiped the trickle of blood from his ears onto his red Seeker robes. He had been focusing on the telepathic link made possible via the priest’s amulet until the moment the troublesome feline touched it, causing a back-lash. The female half-rrell was not a member of their temple. Discordant emanations relayed back through the link to stun him, resulting in his injuries.

“Pagh. One half-caste bitch?” Coundar ignored the Seeker’s pain. “What could she possibly know or do?” The High Priest of the Woorin Temple paced the floor. “What in the blazing hells made that fool Karig go off by himself?”

“The others appeared to be… less committed, master. I understand they argued that the bridge being down was too much an obstacle.”

“Are you still in contact or did you lose them when Karig died?” Coundar interrupted.

“I’ve lost it, master, but can attempt a transfer contact through another.”

“Do so. Tell those other fools to get that book at any cost. They do not want to come back without it. Tell them to kill the interfering feline, and that illios.” Coundar’s eyes flashing a baleful red. “I want no one to know of this.” He turned and stormed out.

Coundar strode down the wide corridor, his black robe billowing behind. The torches in the sconces flared as he passed. He entered another room at the far end of the passage. Three novice Seekers were in trances, each with a small burner on a small table in front of them.

“What news?” he demanded.

“The Watchers are still carrying out their futile searches in the city,” one replied, unaware of his master’s ire. “They lost the trail when the assassins struck, before the courier delivered the book into the hands of—”

One of the other acolytes went rigid, her mouth widening in a silent scream before she collapsed to the floor, a small amount of blood oozing from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

“That’s Mina,” the first Seeker said without emotion. “She was keeping surveillance on members of the Death Sect. They must’ve discovered her presence and now know we’re also searching for the tome.”

“Has she mentioned anything?” He stood over the female body twitching on the floor. He recognised her; she had been ambitious and for a while, entertaining.

“Only that they sent agents out of the city in several directions.”

“Lucky for her, then. Let them have her. She was careless.” Coundar turned to the third acolyte who had several candles and personal items of the other temple high priests in front of him. “And you?” Coundar barked.

“Master,” he said in an irritating falsetto. “It’s believed one of the sages was responsible for the Jart’lekk attack on the courier. The other sects still appear to know nothing. I’m scanning them all one at a time.” Perspiration ran down his face, dripping onto the table as he placed one of the items down. He picked up another and began the intense concentration required. It was an awkward task, swapping mind-link from one recipient to another, especially over longer distances. The wet weather was an added hindrance. The mixing of the elements, in this case, Air and Water, interfered with each other.

A hand lashed out and gripped Coundar’s ankle with inhuman strength. He teetered, flailing his arms about as he lost balance. With an oath, he tumbled to the stone floor.

Mina crawled towards him, dead eyes glistening black orbs.

He kicked at her, trying to scramble away. “Guards,” he yelled, trying to get to his feet. “Guards!”

The Seekers, only vaguely aware of the events, fell out of their trances, stumbling over to help. Their initial efforts to pull her away were ineffective. Mina’s strength was too great.

The door burst open as four guards ran in, believing they saw the three acolytes attacking the High priest, but then they saw Mina’s face. The guards stepped in and impaled her with their spears. This slowed her down, but her grip on the high priest weakened.

With a vicious kick, Coundar freed himself and stumbled to his feet. He whirled around, enraged. Mina was now rising, reaching out for anyone, oblivious to the four spears embedded in her chest and abdomen. Blood ran freely, matting the robes to her body. A spear pulled free, severing a vein. Blood sprayed across the floor. The two remaining acolytes scattered in horror, their faces as pale as the dead woman.

“Beware my wrath.” He raised his hand, palm facing forwards. The raging fire in the hearth died down as he drew in the power and focused. A thick shaft of scintillating red light struck out, hitting Mina’s body squarely in the chest. The guards shielded their eyes from the intense magical heat, dropping their now smouldering weapons and moving back to safety.

As the fierce heat engulfed her, the undead body staggered around the room, arms windmilling. Her flaming robes threatened to ignite anything they touched. Acolytes and guards clambered over each other in fear, avoiding the conflagration.

One of the more courageous guards picked up a chair and used it to push her into a corner, away from the others. It immediately caught fire from the unnatural flames, but it was enough. Mina fell writhing to the floor. Within moments her body, blackened beyond recognition, was now a grotesque lump of bone and charred, crackling flesh filling the room with an overpowering stench. One of the younger acolytes threw up in the far corner at the sight and smell.

“The Deathers want to play games, do they?” Coundar gathered his robes about him, breathing heavily and perspiring. “Maybe they delved into Mina’s mind and found out more than we thought.” He studied the corpse, noting the guards’ reluctance to approach.

Contemptuously, he ordered them to dispose of the body with a wave. “Continue the surveillance,” he commanded the telepaths as if nothing had occurred. “I want to hear of any new developments immediately.” Coundar strode out.

The two remaining telepaths glanced at each other nervously. One of them opened a window to release the reek of death to the night air. The other acolyte, giving the guards and charred corpse a wide berth, went to rebuild the fire before resuming his seat.

It took them a long time to clear their heads enough to carry on with their tasks.

*

“So Alen,” Lothas said. “You picked up Mina’s last thoughts, did you? Good. You’re progressing.” He beamed at his capable apprentice sitting opposite. The High Priest of the Temple of Opsyss, aged in his forties, was wearing the customary blood-red robes of his station. Tattoos across his shaved head, ideograms of the Order, showed his rank and the events that influenced his rise. His pupil, a thin man of about nineteen summers, was in a black smock, his hair still intact, with beaded plaits.

The two men sat back in the cushioned chairs in the rear of the Temple of Opsyss and sipped wine. The incense burner on the marble table had expired.

“Did you note how sloppy her attempt to penetrate my screen was? Those telepaths from Woorin are pathetic. Very poorly trained.”

“Yes, master, but that technique you used to control the body’s movements.” Alen moved to the edge of the seat in his eagerness. “I’ve not come across that before.”

“Nor should you. You’re still far from that level of training. One cannot rush these things. You were privy to it only because the occasion arose,” Lothas pointed out. “Coundar needed a scare. It has been too long since I had a laugh. That is enough for this evening, young Alen. I doubt anyone they bring out tonight to replace her will be any better. Go and study on what you have witnessed, concentrate on the methods I used to thwart her probing.”

“But—”

“I know you’ve done it before.” He lifted his wineglass in the general direction of the Woorin Temple across the plaza. “All students think they know enough; have practised enough, but like Mina, they won’t know if they have perfected the skill until it’s too late. Go now. I must consider the information I’ve gleaned from her dying mind. I feel tonight will show some promise.” Lothas resumed his sipping, already deep in thought.

* * *