The Brat's Final Gambit

A week later Davin winced as Lord Joachim walked into the room and nearly threw their coats at them. After hearing that they had disobeyed his instructions, the man had been as hot as a smith’s forge. He gave a curt command to follow, and Davin began preparing for the worst. Niam looked over and asked quietly, “What do you suppose this is about?”

Davin didn’t want to say anything for fear Joachim might hear. He just shook his head and placed a finger over his lips. Niam, however, went right on talking. “He did threaten to send us to work in the fields,” he surmised. “If it’s privy duty, honestly you’re stronger than me, so I figure you’ll get that and I’ll do something easier.” Davin punched him in the shoulder. “I’m just saying,” Niam said sorely.

Joachim led them out of the nearest door and around toward the stables where a carriage waited, flanked by a guard of fifteen soldiers in hard leather armor, bearing short swords and bows slung across their backs. Davin muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “I don’t think he’d have guards for us if it was privy cleaning duty.”

When Joachim opened the carriage door, Davin and Niam just stood facing the dark interior and looked at one another. Neither wanted to get in.

“Go on boys,” Joachim said, emphasizing the word, “boys.” Davin took a breath and climbed in. As soon as he did, he was surprised to see Maerillus and a pale but improved Jolan Kine waiting for them, chatting amiably.

For his part, Maerillus said nothing. News of what Niam had kept secret from him still ate at Maer, so he just looked away and pretended not to be paying any attention. Niam cast a quick glance in Maerillus’s direction and then frowned. Kine noticed the uncomfortable silence but said nothing of it. The moment he and Niam had taken Betsy to Lord Joachim, Kine had recommended Betsy be transferred to Joachim’s service and protection.

Davin suspected that Maerillus was more upset about the fact that his access to Betsy would be limited than anything that had been kept from him. Now that Betsy was going to be a member of Joachim’s staff, she might end up anywhere. This was why Davin was glad there were no girls in his life at the moment. Of all the people to get sucked into such a complicated relationship, Davin would have fingered Niam as his first pick, not Maerillus. Yet in the space of a few months, Davin had discovered that something supernatural was communicating with him, that he had special abilities and powers that most people feared, that a sorcerer was targeting the people of this area, that creatures beyond his worst nightmares existed and at times wanted to kill him… and that a Sartor was smitten with a maid. Life was indeed strange.

“Where are we going, sir?” Niam asked as Lord Joachim stepped in and gave the coach the order to go.

Joachim turned his head and gave Niam a flat, silent stare. “Since none of you has the good sense to stay where you’re told, I decided you ought to come with us, Mr. Maldies.”

Niam sat there expectantly, but Joachim did not go on. Kine sat beside the count and couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’ve gone and done it now!” he guffawed. “They’re too scared to move a muscle!”

Davin sat uncomfortably stiff in his seat. “We’re going to Kreeth’s estate,” Count Joachim said.

Niam was the first to tense up. “Um, could you run that by me again?”

“You heard me Maldies,” Joachim said.

Davin watched the expression on Niam’s face change. Several heartbeats of silence went by, and then: “Well that’s just good, sir. Go there with a sick Wizard’s Hammer and fifteen unprepared soldiers why don’t we? Just like we’re going on a picnic?”

Maerillus decided he was going to be the next one to speak up. “Niam,” he growled. “Be quiet.”

Niam pointed at the Wizard’s Hammer. “He doesn’t look like he can handle much more than getting in and out of the privy to me,” Niam said. “And those soldiers ought to have their bows strung and arrows nocked the moment we come even remotely close to Kreeth’s property. And you already know that those tralls need to be taken down with spears!”

Maerillus looked at Niam with a curious expression, then he looked at Lord Joachim. “He is right, sir. You didn’t see how fast the wolfstrosities moved. Or the trall.”

The count looked from Niam to Maerillus, as if he were weighing something in his mind, but said nothing. Jolan Kine sat watching the three of them with what Davin was coming to feel was an annoyingly secretive smile. Niam was nearly ready to stand up. “For another thing, none of you have any idea of what the boxes were like, and if one of your men stumbles onto one of Kreeth’s seals, they’re going to die. You need more than a body guard to come with us if you’re going to bring this man in.”

That must have been what Joachim had been waiting to hear, because he looked around at all of them smoldering eyes. “And THIS is exactly what the three of you go gallivanting off to face without a care in the world!”

Niam got ready to say more, but he suddenly stopped.

’Well—“ was all he could manage.

“Well?” Joachim demanded.

“But—” Davin began.

“But nothing,” Joachim told him flatly. “How many times have stories of your exploits made their ways to my ears? Exploits that very well might have gotten you three killed. Who do you think is going to have to tell my childhood friends that their sons got killed thinking they could stick their noses into places that—by their own admission—my Wizard’s Hammer and an escort of professionally trained soldiers aren’t prepared to walk into?”

Niam muttered under his voice. “I jig and Maerillus waltzes. Only Davin gallivants, sir.”

“Always the comedian,” Joachim flared. “This isn’t funny.”

“And yet we’re still gallivanting off to confront Kreeth,” Niam nearly cried out.

“Relax Maldies,” Joachim said. “It appears as if the good Mr. Kreeth has fled the area.”

Niam glared back in thunderous silence. “And you were going to tell me that when?” he demanded.

“Kid’s got spunk,” Jolan said to Joachim.

The count merely grunted. “They’re going to need more than spunk,” he said.

Before Niam had a chance to whip himself up into another fit, Kine’s voice turned serious. “From what you have told us, there have been plenty of times when only stupid luck kept you alive.”

“Like what happened at the Vandin camp,” Joachim reminded them.

“Or the fact that I was there when the trall attacked you three,” Kine added.

“OR,” Joachim said, “when you barely got away from Kreeth’s home without getting yourselves killed.”

“For that matter, if Kreeth had set out any traps when you followed Gaius’s servant into the woods, you might have been killed then,” Joachim said.

Maerillus held his hands up. “I think we surrender. You’ve made your points.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” a stolid Joachim retorted.

Davin cleared his throat. “We did what we thought we had to do. You were both gone, and we couldn’t find you to tell you anything.” Joachim gave Davin an unreadable stare. “We have done nearly everything you’ve mentioned to help other people, and I think any of us would do it again.”

Joachim and Kine looked at one another, and then Jolan asked, “Is that the way it is, boys?”

“Yes sir,” Maerillus said in a diplomatically polite voice.

Niam shrugged his shoulders. “I could go on.”

Davin and Maerillus both elbowed him.

“I’m just saying,” Niam said.

A call from outside alerted Joachim that they were almost there.

Niam peered through the window. “The place doesn’t feel the way it did the day we came,” Niam told everyone. “Hey, did you tell them to keep an eye out for squirrel-monster-things?”

Kine spoke up without missing a beat. “We’ve already cooked those up with dumplings.”

Niam made a sour face.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who’s a joker, now.” Davin whispered.

Joachim said, “Yes, Niam. Squirrel-monster-things, wolfstrosity things, and former mayor things.”

“Any idea where he’s run off to?” Davin asked as the increased sunlight reaching the carriage told them that they were now crossing Kreeth’s lawn.

“I have as many people as possible searching for him,” the count said as Niam tensed up again. “My Hammer would like to speak with him about his involvement in Seth and Sarah’s deaths,” Joachim told Niam, and then looked at all three of them, but Jolan Kine leaned forward to speak before Joachim opened his mouth.

“And this is why the three of you will NOT go after Mr. Braun on your own. No ‘buts,’ Niam. Not this time. The former mayor might not have harmed you and Davin, but there’s no telling what else is going on.” Niam looked around as if he had been garroted, but for once, he actually said nothing.

When the carriage rolled to a stop, Maerillus was happy to be able to get out of the thing and onto his own two feet. The crutches helped, but he was getting sick of hobbling around on them.

Beside him, Niam climbed out of the carriage and began to stretch. A pang of mixed emotions hit Maerillus. He still didn’t know how to reconcile the things his friend had hid from him with the fact that Niam had done so in an attempt to look out for him. The thing is, Maerillus would have preferred to have known, so was he angry with Niam or just with fate in general?

Count Joachim walked up and stood beside Kine. “You feeling up to going in?”

“I just want to get a good look at what we’re facing,” the Hammer said stiffly.

Joachim nodded, then turned to the officer at his side. “Outside first.”

The man nodded his head and saluted with his fist over his chest. Then the captain turned and ordered his men to search the perimeter of the manor along with the servants’ quarters.

To Maerillus, Davin, and Niam, Joachim said, “I’ve had this place under constant surveillance since you three made your discovery. One of my patrols saw Kreeth heading toward Kalavere as fast as his horse could take him. I have several eyewitnesses who saw him board a ship bound for Selvika. The sorcerer knew it was only a matter of time before we came for him.

“Mr. Kine needs to get a good look at what he left behind and we’re also looking for his staff. My troops say no one has been seen coming or going since the day they started watching the place.”

Niam spoke up as soon as Joachim stopped talking. “He might have left more boxes like the ones we encountered.”

“That’s why I want you to assist my Hammer, Maldies,” Joachim’s gravelly voice rumbled.

Niam protested. “But sir, I don’t think I can do anything about those boxes.”

“I just need you to tell him if any are close.” Joachim turned his back on the three of them to address the captain returning from the perimeter check.

“Nothing sir. Not a soul in sight. But there may be a problem. The kitchen stinks, so I checked it out. Food’s been left in the pots to spoil, sir. No one’s been in there for some time.”

Joachim gritted his teeth. “I was afraid of something like that. Post a guard in front and in back. I want you and the other two men with us.”

“Yes sir,” the captain said crisply. As he saluted, Joachim warned him, “Stay with us. Do not go anywhere unless directed by me or Mr. Kine. And if one of these boys tells you to do something that sounds important, you better bet your life that it is.”

The captain relayed Joachim’s directions and then he and the remaining three soldiers fell in behind them.

Niam walked ahead of the group as they mounted the steps and approached the tall set of double doors. The red tint of the stained glass reminded Maerillus of blood, and he shivered at the memory of the things they encountered on their first visit. Niam stepped up to the door and stood in front of it for a few seconds. “It’s not trapped,” he announced.

“I agree,” Jolan Kine said. “At least not by a sorcerer, anyway.”

Joachim stood aside and nodded to the captain to come forward. Immediately the soldiers armed themselves and Maerillus felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly. The captain nodded to his men and as the one to his right swung the door open, the captain held his sword ready for anything that might leap out. Inside, only the heavy silence of the front room and it’s cavernous expanse greeted them. Then the soldiers began to gag, and a thick cloying stench of death wafted out and hit them all.

Niam turned his nose as soon as the death scent hit him. Before the captain and his men could rush in, he quickly stepped between the soldiers and the door with two upraised hands. “Wait.”

“For love of the Creator, move out of the way and let them do their job, Maldies!” Lord Joachim barked.

Niam’ shook his head. “Sorry sir, but I think I might still have a job I need to do here.” Perhaps it was Niam’s sudden polite turn, but Joachim nodded to the troops, and they stepped back a pace. “This better be good, Maldies,” the count growled.

Niam held his breath and prepared himself. Even before inhaling the putrid air within, the smell found its way into his nose. The worst part was that the note of rotting flesh didn’t just remain there, and he had to taste it as well. Niam placed his arm over his nose, hoping that would help somehow. Behind him someone retched. Around him, furniture and paintings were strewn in fragments across the manor’s expansive entrance. Red light from the stained glass windows gave to the surroundings the crimson cast of a charnel house.

Here the ordinary rules of the normal world had become overturned. Niam actually half expected that if he tossed an object up into the air it would keep traveling until it came to rest on the ceiling. A residual hate that reviled the world Niam had been born into hung in the air with the stench.

“There’s something bad in this house. I don’t think it was Kreeth that did this,” he shuddered, indicating the completely ransacked condition of the room. “This started as we were trying to leave.”

“Be careful,” Jolan Kine called out to everyone.

Suddenly, a man on the landing above screamed. Everyone’s eyes shot upward in time to see a well-dressed figure with a rope wound around his neck leap across the railing and plummet halfway down. The rope snapped taut and the force of the man’s momentum stopping so abruptly caused his body to jerk and spam rudely. The man’s face bulged and his tongue lolled like a fat sausage link.

A soldier jerked backward so quickly that he lost his footing and fell, dropping his sword as he went down. Niam watched as the man who had just hanged himself disappeared slowly, fading until only empty air remained.

“Ghost,” Joachim told everyone. “And an unusually vivid one.”

The soldier who fell muttered a silent prayer as he got up, looking pale and shaken. “It’s alright,” Joachim told him. He handed the soldier his sword and said levelly, “No matter what you see, keep this in your hands.” The man nodded his head nervously. “At least it wasn’t a revenant,” Joachim told Kine.

“A revenant, sir?” the shock in the captain’s voice was clear.

“Seen worse,” Joachim told the man. “And you may too before the day is out.”

Jolan Kine limped deliberately to the space beneath the balcony where the apparition had plunged and addressed the soldiers. “You were briefed, were you not?”

All three men nodded their heads. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Then remember what you were told and remember your training. It’s not ghosts that are going to hurt you. It’s lack of attention that will do it every time.”

“Yes sir!” the men called out in unison.

“The basement is probably the room you want to see first,” Niam said. Joachim nodded his head and barked out orders to guard the stairway.

“Lead the way,” Kine said, wincing as he followed Niam down the hall.

As they made their way cautiously toward the room with the secret entrance, Niam noted that the horrible odor seemed to be lessening. “That means the source is behind us,” Joachim declared darkly.

As soon as Niam and the Wizard’s Hammer entered the storage room, they both stopped abruptly. An intense spasm of pain seized Niam. Arrows of fire shot straight into his skull behind his eyes. Niam’s legs lost all their strength and he gasped as he fell. He had no idea who grabbed him and pulled him out of the room, but the moment he was across the threshold, the pain left him.

Niam took in a shaky breath. Jolan Kine stood above him, looking unruffled except by the pain in his hip. “That didn’t hurt you?” Niam asked, stunned that the man remained upright.

The Hammer reminded him, “I’m immune to the worst effects of sorcery.”

“Must be nice,” croaked Niam. “Must be a major spell working beyond that door. I’ve never felt anything as strong as this before.”

“Then we need more men,” Kine said. “And I have to have more time to heal. At least we know this much.”

“I thought you could just waltz right in there,” Niam said, agitated.

“Maybe,” the Hammer replied. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other nasty surprises waiting,” he said.

“Why would he do that?” Niam asked, incredulous.

Kine said, “My guess would be to leave anyone trying to get past the door disoriented and weakened before facing what’s on the other side.”

“Well, what now?” Joachim demanded.

“We find out what happened to the staff.”

Niam made a disgusted sound, and Kine looked his way. “If I go in there and Kreeth has set a trap that causes a large rock to fall on my head, I’ll be just as dead as anyone else. Just because I’m immune to his sorcery doesn’t mean I’m immortal. Remember, the assassin’s arrow? The only reason Jort is dead is that he made some kind of mistake. I don’t know about you, but I plan on living a bit longer.”

Niam looked away, feeling anger rise. “Fine,” he said, feeling cheated. He knew this was just a fact-finding trip. Nearly every time he thought he was about to close in on his brother and sister’s killer, something stood in his way. Niam pushed his way past the soldiers and then Davin and Maerillus.

“Wait Niam!” Davin called out angrily.

“That’s all I ever do is wait,” Niam snapped back and continued down the hall toward the stairs. He knew what he was about to see. He had smelled rotting bodies before—at the Vandin camp. In the end, it was all the same wasn’t it? Death was death. Niam knew that whatever presence dwelt within the house was now bound up in the basement. All that waited above them were the corpses. And if he couldn’t get at Kreeth, he knew he could get a good look at what Kreeth had done, and feed that to his anger and hatred.

“Niam!” Joachim’s booming voice didn’t scare him right then.

Whatever threats the count could make were nothing compared to this. Niam walked into the manor’s grand foyer. Voices imprisoned within the old manse whispered all around him. Men, women, and children condemned to live and die here wept, cursed, and wailed in remnants of terrible events, damned to remain there as a shroud of the manor’s evil presence.

Niam prayed that the Creator was kind and merciful. He certainly hadn’t been so with this place. All of the priests and monks he had ever heard claimed that love was the force that propelled creation. Yet the source of the Voice repeatedly visited him with the most horrible visions and dreams. Only something beyond the normal, waking world of men could know what it had shown Niam. No love there. Just torture.

Was the source of the Voice closer to the creator than men and women? Something had been there when his bother and sister died, yet it had done nothing. Where was the love and mercy in that? Niam marched into the grand foyer, and he made a beeline for the arched stairway. A small, calm, quiet part of him whispered that he was being irrational. Yet, what of it? Life was like a continual series of irrational actions, like jumping off of cliffs. Problem was, Niam rarely knew what the end result of his actions were going to be until he was already in the air. So he continued walking, now up the stairs, despite calls from the people behind him. The stench grew steadily, and the anger within Niam’s chest grew proportionate to it.

He was in midair.

If anyone came into this mansion trying to fool himself that the stench in the air came from anything other than a rotting man or woman, he was deluding himself. That was the smell of the Voice’s love. In his mind’s eye, Niam saw Kreeth’s victims, starting with Sarah floating on her back in Siler’s Lake, and Seth, whose bones along the choked shore of Siler’s Lake kept a flawless testimony to the sorcerer’s evil for over a year. In here, the images were mere extensions of the voices droning around him.

Niam struggled to shut all of that out. At the top of the stairs he almost stopped. The stench was ferocious. A door lay open. He instinctively knew it had been done to leave a message—a gift—an invitation to look, to peep around the door and find the surprise waiting on the other side. Niam realized this because the man’s personality remained within the manor as an after-effect of the sorcery’s taint. Nobody else could know that. Niam doubted they would understand what he himself had no words for. His imagination turned as he prepared himself for the sight of the bodies. He already pictured them, lined up where Kreeth had executed them, eyes open and blank.

Finally, he arrived at the open door and walked boldly through it. He knew he could handle it. The charred bodies covered over with teeming mats of ravens had proved that, hadn’t it? Niam walked a few paces into a wall of sickness and death so thick he could have swam in it. And when he looked around, he realized his folly. What he saw there was a vision beyond his worst nightmare.