Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) (25 page)

“Lovely,” Quain said with a queasy squint.

“That’s an excellent point, Danny. Why did he come to help us?” I asked. “His tribe was safe and healthy in Alga.”

“I convinced them that if we didn’t stop Tohon and his army of the dead, our tribe wouldn’t be safe for long. I also think Noak and the warriors were bored. Their two tribes had to play nice in order to survive and, although Noak won’t admit it, he likes Kerrick.”

“Nice job, Danny. With the addition of Noak’s warriors and the monastery women, Prince Ryne’s army is going to be quite dangerous.”

“If the enemy ever attacks us,” Loren muttered.

“We shouldn’t wait. Going on the offensive is not a bad thing,” Odd said, speaking up for the first time since Danny had arrived. “Look what happened to the High Priestess’s army. We waited and waited and waited for Tohon to engage us in battle, giving him plenty of time to set his trap. Plus Prince Ryne said the dead were on the move again.”

“And Tohon has to know the tribesmen are here,” Danny said. “The warriors didn’t bother to hide their presence and they sounded like a herd of lost cows in the woods.”

That was the second time Danny mentioned Tohon. I opened my mouth to inform him about Tohon’s frozen state, but another thought popped. “Did they scare the farmers and villagers? It must have been mass panic.”

Danny straightened. “No. Once we crossed the Nine Mountains, we didn’t see a soul.”

Odd cursed.

“Wait, it makes sense,” Loren said. “Cellina tried that backdoor sneak and probably scared everyone away.”

“That was closer to Zabin. Maybe she’s trying the same move again, but this time going farther to the north,” I said.

Loren rubbed a hand over his short hair. “That’s pretty far. It’ll take a long time and they’d be cut off from their main army and supplies.”

“With Prince Ryne only harrying patrols and small platoons along Vyg’s border, they’ve had plenty of time to travel circles around us,” Odd grumbled.

I stood. “Once he’s done talking to Noak, I’ll tell Ryne and let him figure it out. He may already be aware of the situation.” I swept a hand out, indicating the rows of cots. “Danny, do you want to check patients with me?”

He shot to his feet. “Of course!”

Quain groaned. “I don’t think I can handle another healer.” He poked a finger at Danny. “Just don’t be all nurturing and smother us with concern. We get enough of that with Avry.”

“Don’t worry, Quain. If you do something stupid, I’ll let you suffer. Pain is an excellent teacher, and even
you
can be trained to avoid acting dumb in the future.”

“Nice!” Loren high-fived Danny.

As Danny and I walked over to the patients, I asked, “Where did you learn that?”

“Noak. They’re not big on coddling their people. If a tribesman could heal on his own, Noak believed he should and that I should save my energy for a more injured patient.”

That sounded familiar. I glanced at Ryne and Noak. They appeared to be deep in discussion, but Noak caught me staring. An icy finger slid down my spine. That was the third time that had happened. Was it my imagination? Or was it his ice magic? A strange uneasiness swirled inside me as if Noak could read my thoughts and emotions. What had he meant that I was bound to Kerrick?

Too many questions without answers. And the thought of asking Noak... Not palatable. I returned my focus to Danny.

After I introduced him to my staff, they stared at him in wonder.

“Another healer? Why, that’s wonderful!” Ginger said.

“You’ll be such a big help, especially when Avry decides to dash off on some crazy mission again,” Christina teased.

I showed Danny where we kept the supplies and explained how we decided on the type of care—magic or medicine or both. We stopped at the first patient, Private Caleb.

“Tell me what you find,” I said to Danny.

Danny touched the young man’s hand. “His left wrist is broken and he has a stab wound on his upper right thigh.”

Suddenly lightheaded, I grabbed the edge of a cot to keep from toppling. Yes, I’d known he had healing powers, but just like Danny had said before, I didn’t truly believe until now. Relief bubbled up from deep inside me and I felt lighter. No longer was I the only healer in the Fifteen Realms; the pressure eased just enough for me to draw a breath without that tight band of worry constricting me.

Not that the worry would ever leave me. Danny was only thirteen years old and I would make sure we didn’t heap lots of pressure and responsibility on his thin shoulders like Flea. Understanding hit me hard, and I groped for the cot’s edge again.

Poor Flea. He’d been grappling with this new power, trying to understand it and there I was, pressuring him to experiment to use a magic he didn’t even understand. No wonder he’d refused. I’d been such an idiot.

“Avry, are you all right?” Danny asked.

I straightened. “Yes, fine. Let’s continue.”

Danny touched each patient, accurately reporting illnesses, fractures, and injuries. Then I led him to the cavern with the plague victims.

He stopped at the entrance. “They’ve been poisoned with Death Lily toxin.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“They reek of anise, are covered with sweat, and remind me of the kids at King Tohon’s. The ones who didn’t live.”

Tohon had injected Death Lily toxin into young children, hoping a few would survive and become healers.

“Go ahead and touch one. See if you get anything different.”

Reluctance dragged at his feet.

“They’re not contagious to healers,” I assured him.

Biting his lip, Danny pressed two fingertips to the closest man’s temple. “Oh. It’s not the toxin. But it’s similar. He’s going to die. Can I heal him?”

“No!” I batted his hand away. “He has a form of the plague. If you take his sickness, then you’ll die.”

Horror welled in his eyes. “The plague’s back?”

I explained about the new strain. “I think something protected the survivors of the first plague, but they are vulnerable to this one. And I believe this one has to be injected into the body to work.”

“And why am I safe?” Danny asked.

“As a healer, you’re immune to Death Lily toxin, which is at the heart of this plague.” But as I said those words, I wondered if they were true. After all, I had died after I’d assumed the plague from Ryne. There must be something else that protected them from contracting the disease. If I could figure it out, I could cure the plague.

Danny yawned. I told him to wash his hands and go find a place to sleep. “Loren and Quain have their bedrolls set up in the small cavern to the left of the cave’s entrance if you want to join them.”

“But the patients—”

“Are fine for now. Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate to wake you if you’re needed.”

Unhappy, but all out of arguments, Danny scrubbed and then left. I checked on each of the men and made them as comfortable as possible for the evening. My bedroll had been set up near the cavern’s entrance so I’d be close by if needed by my caregivers or the patients.

I considered the problem of the plague as I washed my hands. The water felt colder than normal, causing my finger bones to ache. The sensation crept up my arms. I hugged them to my chest and turned to face the reason for the iciness.

Noak stood a few feet away. Shivers threatened to break out, but I clamped down on my emotions. There was no need to fear this man.

I shooed him out of the cavern, explaining about the danger. When we reached a safe distance, I stopped. “Do you need something?”

“Your hand,” he said, holding out his own.

“Oh.” Not sure how I could refuse without insulting him, I placed my right hand in his, bracing for the blast of ice. He didn’t disappoint. I stiffened as the now-familiar wave of frigid cold raced through me.

Noak’s grip tightened. “There’s another.”

“Another what?”

“Bond. Deep inside, but there.” Noak thumped his chest.

“Bond?”

“You are linked to Magic Man and this other.”

Fear melted the ice. “Who?”

“Another man of magic. Stronger than Magic Man, but his link to you is weaker for now.”

Tohon? But he was encased in a stasis. Or so we believed. “How do I break that link?”

“This other must die.”

KERRICK

A teapot crashed to the hearth, shattering into pieces—just like Kerrick’s thoughts.

“Belen’s here?” he asked Mom.

Mom frowned at the destroyed teapot. Small shards littered the bricks around Flea’s feet. “No. He left a few days ago.”

Flea jumped down. “Where did he go?”

“South to spy on that nasty Skeleton King.” Mom tsked. “I told him to wait until he was fully healed, but the big oaf had it in his thick head to go investigate.”

Now Kerrick needed to sit down. He sank into a chair. “Wait. Belen’s injured?”

She glanced at Kerrick and then Flea. “My goodness, didn’t you get my message?” Mom clasped her hands together. “No wonder you’re in such a state.”

“Can you start at the beginning, please?” Kerrick asked.

“Of course, dearie. Mr. Belen arrived at my door about a week after midsummer’s day. The poor man’s head was cracked open. He had dozens of cuts, bruises, and a handful of stab wounds. His right arm had been broken in two places and his left ankle was shredded. Something had chewed right through his leather boot.” She shook her head. “Those injuries should have killed him. But there he stood, swaying on his feet, dripping blood on my clean floors and insisting all he needed was a piece of pie and a good night’s sleep.”

Kerrick smiled. “That’s Belen.”

“We managed to get him into a bed before he collapsed. He slept for so long, I’d feared he’d never wake up.”

“How long?” Flea asked.

“Two months! I sent a message to Avry right after he’d arrived.”

“Zabin was under attack then,” Flea said.

“I heard the news later, and figured it was the reason Avry didn’t come. But I’d hoped the note made it to her.”

Kerrick considered. The message was probably intercepted by Tohon’s army, which would explain why Tohon lied to Avry about Belen getting captured. He’d known Belen’s situation and location.

“When he woke, I’d expected him to not remember a thing,” Mom said. “A blow like that should have scrambled his brain. But that thick skull of his saved him. Once he found out how long he’d been asleep, he’d wanted to charge right off.” She smoothed her apron with a quick flick of her hands as if still affronted by Belen’s lack of good judgment. “Of course, his leg muscles couldn’t hold his weight and he’d had nothing to eat but broth and bits of soggy bread for months. Took my bartender and two of my regulars to get him back into bed.”

“I’d bet Belen fussed about that,” Flea said, grinning.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Belen wasn’t the best patient. He kept insisting he needed to get back, but between the dizziness, headaches, and weakness, I wouldn’t let him go. And he listened to me until that horrible Skeleton King invaded Jaxton.”

“Was he better by then?” Kerrick asked.

“Much. But I’d hoped he’d be back to full strength before he left.” Mom fisted her apron. “I’m worried he’ll run into trouble.”

Kerrick rushed to assure her. “Belen can be impulsive, but he’s smart and a good scout.” As long as he kept his distance from the Skeleton King, he should be fine...unless he ran into one of Cellina’s patrols, or priests from Estrid’s army. “What happened to the priests that were staying here?”

“Ran off as soon as they heard about the High Priestess’s surrender to King Tohon.”

“Where did they go?” Flea asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I was just happy to see the backs of their robes.”

“Have you heard anything about Cellina’s army?” Kerrick asked.

“Who?”

Interesting. The news about Tohon’s status hadn’t reached her. Perhaps Cellina was keeping it quiet. Kerrick filled Mom in on the news.

“Goodness, such a to-do. Poor Prince Ryne is stuck in the middle and surrounded by enemies.”

Her comment sounded a warning inside his head. “Why do you say that?”

“Because the High Priestess is to the east, and this Cellina is to the west, and the nasty Skeleton King is south.”

“More like southwest,” Flea said.

“South,” Mom insisted. “He’s taken the city of Dina in Tobory Realm, too.”

Shocked, he stared at Mom. Ryne’s information was dangerously out of date. No wonder he’d been so anxious to have Kerrick scouting for him.

Kerrick stood. “Flea, take Mom and Huxley and return to Grzebien. I’ll—”

They both protested.

“I’m going with you,” Flea said.

“No need to babysit me,” Mom said. “I can take care of myself. Have been for days. You boys go and find Mr. Belen, then we’ll all travel together.”

Kerrick calculated. Jaxton was three days away on horseback, which would add six days at the minimum to this trip. “Avry—”

“Is going to be so ecstatic to see Belen, she’ll forget to be mad at you for being late,” Flea said.

True, but he hated to worry her again. Perhaps he could send a message. “Is anyone else in town?” he asked Mom.

“A few diehards that refuse to leave. Not what you’re looking for, dearie.” She shooed him. “Go. The sooner you leave, the faster you’ll return.”

* * *

Three days later, Kerrick and Flea neared the outskirts of Jaxton. During the trip, they’d spotted a few groups of refugees, heading west at a fast pace, but no one else. And no sign of Belen. Using his connection to the forest, Kerrick searched as far as his senses could stretch, which was only about two miles now, less than half as far as he could before this...lethargy. Frustration gripped him.

Within the distant he scanned, Belen was not in the woods. That meant one thing. He was in Jaxton, either hiding or as a prisoner of the Skeleton King.

They waited until nightfall. Kerrick planned to follow the glows from the campfires of the Skeleton King’s army to locate them. He didn’t expect the loud chanting and drumbeats that started at full dark. He instructed Flea to leave with Huxley at the first sign of trouble.

“Yeah, like that will happen,” Flea said.

“Could you at least pretend you’ll follow my orders?”

“I could.”

Kerrick waited.

“Oh, okay. I’ll run away like a bunny with a hound on his tail.” He saluted with two fingers.

“A simple ‘yes, sir’ would suffice.”

“But not be near as entertaining.”

Shaking his head, Kerrick planned to limit Flea’s time hanging out with the monkeys.

Kerrick circled to the east of town. Bright orange light pulsed near the edge of the forest. At first he thought it was a huge bonfire, but then he recognized the building—the apartment house. Where he’d first seen Avry. Flames engulfed the structure as smoke billowed into the sky.

Figures danced around the fire, pounding on drums. They wore white armor and elaborate headdresses made of...human skulls? Kerrick squinted, but the horrific image only clarified. And the white armor—bones.

Revulsion, deep and primal, bubbled up his throat, tasting bitter and feeling like ash in his mouth. The plague had killed millions in a short period of time. Unburied dead bodies had been one of the unfortunate ramifications of that time. But it was despicable to use their bones for armor.

Kerrick scanned the crowd, watching the dancers. No one stood out or appeared to be the Skeleton King. No Belen, either. Slipping south, he spotted a number of smaller campfires. The town’s square was filled with milling soldiers and an array of tents. It seemed odd that the army hadn’t occupied the buildings. And where were the townspeople? The best way to survive an invasion was to play host and hope the army would leave soon.

He continued south. Kerrick counted soldiers, estimating their numbers. He also noted their weapons—swords, knives, clubs, pikes—all fashioned with, he guessed, bone handles and hilts. From this distance, he couldn’t be certain.

Looping around to the west, he realized the soldiers didn’t act like they’d just conquered a town. No celebrating, laughing, drinking, or debauchery. Unless there were more men inside the buildings? But besides the chanting and drumbeats, the rest of the town remained quiet. Still no Belen.

He stopped behind the jailhouse. It was the best place to keep the captured townspeople and, perhaps, Belen, as well. Leaning against a tree, Kerrick waited and watched. Near the building was a large fire pit. No flames crackled. Instead, bright red coals glowed, pumping out heat. Spits of meat sizzled over the coals. A man turned them, one at a time. Enough meat to feed a substantial army. From what he’d seen so far, he estimated the army to be about two thousand strong.

After a couple hours, the Skeleton King approached the jailhouse. No doubt the man was the infamous king. His armor covered him from head to toe and resembled a skeleton. His helmet had been constructed from a skull. And a crown carved from bone sat atop his head.

The Skeleton King pulled open the door and shouted. His words were garbled at this distance. Kerrick crept closer.

“...need our offering. The moon’s at its zenith,” the Skeleton King said, stepping back as guards wrestled with two screaming men, dragging them over to a broad wooden table near the cook fire.

Horror welled. Kerrick recognized the design. He started forward, grabbing his sword’s hilt, but stopped. What could he do? He’d use all his strength just to reach the man. After that, getting caught and killed along with them would be the only outcome.

The guards strapped the first prisoner to the table. The Skeleton King spread his arms wide, tipped his head back, and howled at the moon. When he finished, his soldiers howled an echo. Then the king brandished a knife and in one quick motion, sliced the prisoner’s throat. The man who had been turning the spits rushed to collect the gushing blood in a bowl.

Kerrick clamped down on a cry as anguish and impotent rage flowed through him. His grief intensified when the second prisoner joined the first. The howling repeated and another bowl was filled with blood.

The Skeleton King took both bowls and strode toward the large bonfire. After a few minutes the drumbeat changed its cadence. The rest of the soldiers followed the Skeleton King. But not the cook. He remained behind, tending the spits.

Before Kerrick could decide on his next move, the wind shifted. The strong stench of burned flesh sent him to his knees, gagging and retching.

They wouldn’t...

They couldn’t...

The cook grabbed a meat cleaver. Without the slightest hesitation, he butchered the victims on the table.

They did.