The Blood Sigil (The Sigilord Chronicles Book 2) (5 page)

"Have you never heard the story of Meb and the demons of the desert?" asked Zeol.

"You can make up all the stories about my people you like, but we will see that body right now," said Goodwyn.

"You may not pass, demon." Lloyd clasped his hands behind his back. This pulled his cape back far enough to reveal the sheathed short swords at his waist.

"Commander!" Pori shouted into the home, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the plea. "The Knight Marshal of Waldron is here to assist and is being denied access."

Maybe this Pori is more useful than I gave him credit for
, Goodwyn thought.

"Let him pass, you ignorant fools!" came a shout from inside the home.

The friars grudgingly parted before the shattered wooden door of the home.

As the commander of the First Fist ducked under the lintel,
 
Friar Lloyd muttered, "Another time, then, dark-skinned demon of the desert."

Aegaz grinned wide, the grin of a wolf baring its teeth. "I look forward to that moment as I would my own nameday feast."

The commander pushed past the friar and made quick work of the rickety wooden steps leading to the second floor. Goodwyn followed, giving Therren a look. Therren's face mirrored his own concern. They had never seen Aegaz's temper so close to the surface before. Going six months without having found Urus definitely seemed to be wearing on the man.

"Don't mind the scarabs down there; it's their job to make my own more difficult," said a tall, widely-built man who stood with command of the room. His brown hair hadn't gone gray, but must have started thinning years ago. He looked up and took a step back when he saw the trio step into the light of the oil lantern.

"Goodwyn?" Aegaz said, ignoring the commander's reaction.

"I need to see the body," Goodwyn said.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," the man said. "We have this situation well in hand."

"I'm sure you have everything taken care of," Aegaz said evenly. "I am Commander Noellor of the First Fist of Kest, acting Knight Marshal of Waldron. We have some measure of special experience that we may be able to lend, if only we could see the body for a moment."

The commander appraised his counterpart in Aegaz, examining him from head to toe. Aegaz was larger, stronger, and far more intimidating than any of the other men in the room. Aegaz could make a grown man soil himself with but a look—the glower he was giving the commander at that moment.

"You can look, but don't touch. It's a mess in there," said the commander, extending his hand to Aegaz. "I'm Jols. You'll have to excuse our manners if we stare. None of us have ever seen a…" He paused, considering his words carefully. "…desert soldier before. One day you'll have to tell me the story of how you came to be Knight Marshall of that tiny mountain speck of a city."

"Thank you, Commander Jols. I hope we can help. We can exchange stories and pleasantries after you've found your killer." Aegaz stepped past the line of soldiers and into the room. Goodwyn and Therren squeezed through behind him.

The word
mess
couldn't come close to describing the horror that awaited them on the other side of the soldiers.

The body, barely recognizable as such, lay strewn across the wood floor in pieces as if it had spread its arms and legs and then the limbs had been ripped out of their sockets.

Goodwyn, Aegaz, and Therren paced a circle around the body, inspecting it like they would a fallen victim on a battlefield, analyzing it for information that might help them defeat the enemy that had slain their comrade.

"I still don't see what all the fuss is about," Goodwyn said.

"A man is dead, boy, show a little compassion!" Commander Jols frowned.

"I meant no disrespect to the dead, Commander, much the opposite, actually," Goodwyn said, kneeling next to the body. "I just mean that for one killer and one body, why mobilize so many men? Why evacuate and shut down an entire quarter of the city, especially one that makes money for the city?"

"Unless this isn't the only body," Therren added.

"What do you make of it, then?" Jols asked, ignoring Therren's remark. "What do you think happened here?"

He's holding something back
, Goodwyn thought.
There's a lot more going on here that he doesn't want to talk about
.
I'll play along…for now.

"No bruises or cuts on the face or hands, knuckles are clean, tops of the fists are bloodless, palms are unharmed—" Goodwyn started but Jols cut him off.

"Except for them not being attached to the arms," he said.

"—palms are unharmed," Goodwyn started again. He hoped that talking about the body would somehow trigger his ability, so he could see a potential future where they caught the killer, or at least figured out what had happened here. Thus far his ability made no appearance, and he was stuck looking at the horror of the world that was, with no glimpse of a better future.
 

"The whites of his eyes are intact," he continued, "so he probably wasn't strangled. And of course, what everyone is staring at, the limbs. The tendons are hanging loose and the bones are detached right at the socket. The skin is stretched on either side of the break."

"And that all means?" asked one of the other soldiers loitering in the back.

"It means this man never put up a fight; he was likely dead before he got the chance. He was literally torn apart."

"Torn apart?" Jobs asked.

"His arms were ripped out first, gripped by the wrists so hard the bones there were crushed to splinters. Then the legs were snapped in half and rotated until they popped out of the pelvis. There are holes in the arms and legs, but I don't know what made them. They could be bite marks from a large animal."

Goodwyn stood up and stepped over the body, deftly avoiding the blood. "Just like the others, right, Commander?" he asked. "That's why you've cordoned off this entire quarter. Because someone, or something, capable of breaking a man apart like a feast day pheasant has done this before."

The commander nodded silently. "We've found six so far."

Goodwyn and Therren eyed each other.
He's still holding something back
, thought Goodwyn.
 

He closed his eyes and stopped thinking. Just as he had done in the cistern below Kest, he concentrated solely on what he wanted to find and disregarded all thoughts of
how
he would find it, or whether he was even heading in the right direction.

Without knowing who, or what, his target might be, Goodwyn's power focused in on a future where he and the target were together. Blocking everything else out, he took a deep breath, stood up, and ran down the stairs, only opening his eyes wide enough to keep from falling or slamming into a wall.

He had no time to spare, as he could feel his quarry escaping. "Don't just stand there, follow him!" he heard Aegaz shout from the room he had just left. As he ducked through the opening and out onto the sidewalk, he was only vaguely aware of the footfalls of the other soldiers trying to keep up and the annoyed calls of the friars.

He sprinted along canals, over bridges, and down narrow alleys between the backs of homes and businesses, wove between barrels of tanning fluid, and squeezed through gaps between drying hides. Goodwyn was barely aware of any of it, dashing in as straight a line as possible from the body to the spot where he would be confronted with a future where he discovered the identity of the killer.

After some time—he didn't know how long, only that he'd run until he was out of breath and covered in sweat despite the cold—he skidded to a halt at the end of an alley that terminated with a building.

It was a dead end. There was nothing there.

Aegaz, Therren, and Jols poured into the alley. A moment later the sound of clapping of boots on stone, shouting and the labored breathing of some of the weaker soldiers crowded into the narrow lane, weapons drawn.

"Where is it? Where's the creature?" demanded Jols.

"I don't know," Goodwyn said, scanning the area for any sign of an enemy. His ability had worked like this before, and it had led them straight to the vertex below Kest. He had concentrated on a goal, blindly allowing his body to make decisions without his conscious mind, and they had ended up exactly where they needed to be. But this time something was wrong. This time they had ended up in a useless, empty alley.

"If this is where Wyn's ability led us, then this is where we're supposed to be," said Therren. Goodwyn caught a bit of a glint in his friend's eye, and it took all he had not to flash him a big smile. It meant everything to him that Therren was there, and that he believed in him.

"What ability?" Jols asked.

"When we met I explained that we had certain skills to offer," Aegaz said before Goodwyn could reply.

"Wait, you said
creature
, not killer or murderer," Goodwyn said, moving to stand before Commander Jols. "What else do you know about this thing that you're not telling us?"

Jols's eyes watered, as if he was choking back some painful memory, his fists clenched.

"I've told you everything. I've been in charge of the watch for the past fifteen years, I've seen all manner of crime in this city. Not once have I ever seen a person who could tear a man apart like that. This has to be some kind of creature or magic, maybe a—"

"You had better not say demon," Aegaz interjected.

Jolt's eyes flared. "If enough people find out about these bodies, that'll be the first thing they think. Fear and superstition will reign over common sense. It will be chaos. It's been hard enough keeping the scarabs from sweeping the entire quarter clean."

"Scarabs?" Goodwyn asked.

"The friars. We call 'em scarabs—when they can't hear us of course—because of the beetles that live in the hills around the city. They have black shells with blue and gold bellies."

"So you've got men surrounding the area to keep panic from spreading?" Goodwyn asked. "Won't the sight of so many soldiers scare people?"

Jols nodded. "Maybe, but we've also got to make sure if the creature's still here, it doesn't escape. We've cordoned off the area around these bodies six times before and never caught a glimpse of anything."

"I don't understand what went wrong," Goodwyn muttered. "I was so sure this was the way to go." He paced, furious.
 

"I'm sure your ability led us here for a reason," Therren said. "It just may not be the reason you think."

Goodwyn sighed and leaned up against a window in the building that formed the end of the alley. The dirty glass and rotted frame obscured the room within, but he could still see through it and out another window on the side of the building.
 

There in the distance lay the silhouette of buildings pushing up from the bay, surrounded by churning waters and ships traveling to and from the merchant ports.

"What is that?" Goodwyn asked, pointing.

"What?" Jols peered through the glass.
 

"That cluster of buildings."

"That's what's left of the island of Findanar. Nobody goes there," said Jols.

"It's haunted," added one of the soldiers.

"That's a bunch of garbage, soldier. You're as bad as the rest of the superstitious folk in this city," Jols said sharply. "The buildings are all condemned. The stone the island was built on has been sinking for years. That place is dying, and nobody with half a brain has set foot on Findanar for a decade."

"Then that's where we need to go," Goodwyn said.

"Don't be foolish, boy. Nobody survives a trip to Findanar."

"Because the dead haunt the island," added another soldier.

Goodwyn shifted his eyes toward Aegaz. Thankfully, the commander seemed to understand and nodded slightly.

"Jols, if Goodwyn says he needs to go to this island, that's where he needs to go," Aegaz said, then turned to the boys. "I have to take care of this business with the king before we run out of money to pay for our room and board, and I can't forget our real reason for being here. You two go check out the island, but be careful."

"Something tells me I won't be able to stop you boys from going," said Jols. "But I'm not risking any of my men traipsing around on that death trap. If you want to explore Findanar, you'll have to do it on your own."

"Fair enough," Goodwyn said. "Can you at least spare a boat?"

"I'll have Pori ferry you out there, but he won't be happy about it."

Chapter Four

Urus sat up on the straw bed in his cell and tried to stretch the aches from his back and shoulders. Gazing through the iron bars, he longed for the home he didn't have. Kest was likely gone, his friends, his uncle—all gone.
 

He traced the scar on his chest with a finger, tracing the shapes of the triangles that overlapped in the center and the circle that encompassed them all.
The fifth vertex
, he thought.
And the symbol of the culled
. At once a symbol of a strange, magical power and a symbol of his failure to be the warrior his people had wanted him to be.