The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) (9 page)

Valthian could not ward off the laughter that followed. He felt a brief pang of guilt for it, but her words were true enough. He had seen more than one villager without a full set of teeth—or in need of a hot bath—lately. Elsa, while as sweet as a young woman her age could be, was no exception. He wondered what his brother saw in her, but it was not his place to judge either of them. Love was often found in the strangest of circumstances. Not that he thought Tomas was in truly love with the girl; As far as he knew, his brother was someone who would never settle with just one woman. There was every chance that it would cost the boy many headaches in the years to come.

“I am afraid that I must be going,” he said, doing his best to stop snickering. “I have much to be done and almost no time in which to do it. Would you send your father my thanks for giving us a place to sleep for the night?”

“Of course I will, but you’re not getting away from me that easily. Not yet.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Elyna blushed slightly. “Because you haven’t kissed me all morning!”

His throat tightened; she was right. He had been so distracted with the snow outside and the story Alain told him the night before that he had neglected the love of his life.

“I—I am sorry. It’s just this—”

“Shh,” she whispered, placing a finger gently against her full pouting lips. “No more excuses. Just kiss me.”

He did not hesitate; reaching out and pulling her close, he leaned in to kiss her. Valthian had meant to touch his lips lightly to hers, but it was clear that she wanted more. Elyna curled her fingers around the nape of his neck and brought him in hard, their lips crashing together and falling into the steps of a dance that he hoped would never end. His skin prickled as her dexterous fingers found his shoulders and clenched firmly. The world swirled around him; the events of last night becoming a blur in the midst of Elyna’s affections. In what seemed like mere moments to him, her hands glided away from his well-muscled chest and she backed away a step.

“What was that for?” Valthian asked, forcing his breaths to become even.

“A reminder.”

“Of what?”

Her smile was mischievous, almost devilish. “A reminder that I love you and want us to spend more time together. I know that you are a busy lordling, and I accept that. Just try to remember that I am here. Why, we haven’t been on a picnic in months!”

“Your love is something no man could ever forget,” Valthian replied. “Not even if he wanted to. And we shall spend many more hours together, and sooner than you think. I also promise, at the first sight of warm weather, that I shall take you back to our private spot for the greatest picnic you have ever known!”

“I’m holding you to your word.”

“I expect no less,
my love
. It is a promise that I intend to keep. Besides, were I to break any promise to you, I would be forced to run far away from Solstice for fear of you using one of your father’s blacksmithing tools to teach me a lesson.”

She placed a hand over her mouth; the giggle that still managed to escape her lips was music to his ears.  He waited patiently for her hand to fall back to her side and leaned in, giving Elyna’s soft lips a quick peck.

“I would use them to do more than teach you a lesson.”

Valthian blushed. “ I do not doubt that for a moment. Unfortunately for the both of us, and as much as I would like to explore the possibilities, I really must be going. I have to make sure my horse is readied for the journey. Even on horseback, it might take several hours to tread through the snow.”

“We shall explore them soon enough,” Elyna replied, her cheeks also blushing a deep crimson. “But I suppose that will be saved for another time.”

He smiled and kissed her once more, this time running his fingers through her soft golden hair. Leaving her embrace was never easy, but there were pressing matters waiting at home. It would be difficult to glean the information he wanted from his father; Philip was not accustomed to explaining things to anyone, especially his sons. He only gave out information when it was pertinent to an immediate problem. What else he knew, the stubborn lord preferred to keep to himself. Still, Valthian was determined to get to the bottom of the events that had transpired the day before. He didn’t care if it had to be wrestled from his father’s grasp. Valthian also wanted to pay a visit to the village’s newest resident.

He did not trust that damned priest, not as far as a man could be thrown, he didn’t.

––––––––

W
ALKING THROUGH the many corridors of the manor house did nothing to calm Philip’s nerves. It was often enjoyable to glance at the tapestries that told stories of his ancestors, but not today; the priest awaited him at the chapel. The moments spent thinking about the adventures of Talvac of Mirana—a great man rumored to have slain six foes on horseback with a bow and three arrows—or Jarrel de Hynon—the legendary defender of Molhadius who lived and died more than a thousand years ago—would have to wait for another day. Philip had told Abytheos to prepare for a two-day journey and then had braved the elements himself to let his wife know that all was well. She had been at least as worried as he imagined she would be, and the notion that he would take the priest and mystic gallivanting through the forest in search of more of these creatures had almost been too much for his beloved wife.

“Absolutely not,” she chided. “Do you not remember the stories about how we lost my grandfather? He went off tracking a pack of wild wolves and never returned. I shall not lose my husband on some fool’s errand!”

“We are not hunting wolves, Merriam. This is to protect the people of Solstice!”

He cringed as she placed both hands firmly on her hips. “No. You are not hunting wolves, but men! They are very dangerous men at that. This is much worse.”

“They no longer think like men,” Philip said, instantly regretting his choice of words.

“Precisely why this is worse than wolf hunting. Now, if that fat old wizard wants to take a priest with him and battle creatures in the middle of winter with a dusty old tome and a few potions, they are free to do so. You are my husband, and I prefer that you remember that from time to time.”

“I am also the governing body of this village,” Philip answered. “And it is important that you remember that as well. I have a responsibility to protect these people; much in the same way I have a responsibility to take care of my family. What must be done cannot be changed. The cards are already laid out before us. What I can promise is that I will come back to you unscathed. We are taking enough men to ward off a hundred wolves, let alone a few sickly men.”

Merriam sighed. “I should remind you that most of those men are farmers; not fighters. I won’t pretend I like the idea but I suppose I can’t command you to stay. Were I a man double your size, I would hold you down and tie your legs to a kitchen stool!”

“I don’t know if those rickety old stools you insist on keeping around would do much,” Philip said, smiling. “And I rather like you as a woman. Were you a man—especially one twice my size—I have a feeling we would earn considerable stares riding through town hand-in-hand.”

Under normal conditions, his wife would have scolded him for the crude joke, but today was different. For the first time since their youngest son had almost died of the pox mere months after his birth, he noticed fine lines of worry on Merriam’s face. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and carry her away from the small dining hall, kiss her, and tell her that he would bid the priest good luck and wash his hands of the matter. He wanted to, but Philip’s sense of duty to the people of Solstice simply would not allow it. Instead, he did what he could to reassure her. Now, just an hour after leaving his wife in the dining hall, her mouth hanging slightly open, he stood before the paintings and tapestries that represented the legacy of his lineage. Some small voice buried deep inside continuously asked him how he could ever live up to those past glories as a minor lord in a simple farming village. Why did he choose to be a husband, father, and a leader of peasants when so much adventure awaited him in the world? The reality was that Philip De’Fathi wouldn’t trade his life for anything else in Alvanshia. He loved his family—his devotion to Solstice was unwavering—and that was enough for him.

He stepped into his dark study and threw open the curtains, revealing a bright sun shining and a cloudless sky that illuminated the wintery scene that spread throughout the land. The heavy snowfall had enveloped the ground in a frozen white blanket; the tops of several nearby trees sagged from the weight thrust upon them. Travelling would not be easy today, but it was important that he should bear witness to the priest’s claims of more Vel’Haen. His heart still fluttered at the mention of the legendary name. A mere night and the better part of a morning had passed since he had been introduced to more of those creatures than he ever wanted to see in a lifetime. And now more were waiting somewhere in the woods with nothing standing between them and the people he took a vow to protect.

On the other hand, many had been returned to the ground whence they came when Faire’s Wake and Grovenwell had burned. What had happened in Solstice was all the proof he needed of what had really happened in those villages. While Philip would never wish for the death of his neighbors, a small seed of hope blossomed in his belly. It was possible that these creatures could be contained and eradicated. Maybe they were mostly gone already. The rumors stated that only a few residents of those villages were unaccounted for; most of the dead had been gathered up and placed on a massive pyre in the center of those cursed places. The king’s soldiers had taken no chances, preferring to cleanse the land with fire and steel. It must have been a hard decision, though it had been the right one. Any leader of men worth his weight in steel knew that tough choices must sometimes be made for the best interests of the masses. If the king desired whole villages burned to the ground, they must have been beyond saving. Surely those found alive would be granted a hot meal and safe passage to Vinter’s Edge. Still, he would keep that knowledge to himself. No one needed to know those unfortunate details.

King Randil.
Too many months had passed without word from the capitol. No tax collectors had ridden into town demanding what was owed the king. Not a single messenger brought word beyond the two villages that had been damned, and even that bit of information had been vague at best. He would have to send his own messenger, but first there were duties that demanded valuable time.

Philip’s breath caught in his throat as the door behind opened and then closed with a creak.

“I am glad to find you home, father.”

He turned, his hand hovering reflexively for a moment over his chest.

“Valthian,” Philip said. “You put the fear of the gods in me! Where have you been all morning? Your mother informed me that you did not return home last night.”

“Travel was not possible,” Valthian replied. “The weather decided our fates, forcing us to remain with Alain and Elyna. We slept on the floor; it was certainly better than being frozen outside, though my back still aches.”

“Your brother is with you, I presume?”

Valthian shook his head. “He was gone before I woke. I do not think he got very far, wherever he was going; the roads are in horrible condition. Getting home took me more hours than I care to admit. I am sure he is well.”

“Yes, I’m sure that he is.”

“Father? You seem distant. Is something the matter?”

Philip blinked and noticed his son’s expression for the first time since the boy entered the room. Something indeed was on his mind, and he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to speak of it to his eldest son. The boy had other matters to worry about; the people of Solstice loved him and he them. It was Valthian’s unofficial job to help keep the peace, but how could his son truly calm the villagers without being kept somewhat in the dark. Could someone so young handle such knowledge? Still, he would be the one to step into his father’s shoes once Philip was too old to govern, so keeping him away from any sort of possible danger could be a detriment to Valthian’s development. Someday when the boy took ownership of the lands that made up Solstice, he would have to become a hard enough man to govern properly.

“Would you please sit down, my son? You are right; something has been troubling me.”

“Whatever it is, you can trust me to act on your behalf and do the right thing.”

Philip smiled. “Of that I have no doubt, but this is a matter that cannot be handled by you alone. Now, would you please take a seat?”

Valthian approached and slid into a sturdy, darkly varnished high-backed chair that rested just across from the desk. Once the two were sitting eye-to-eye, Philip took a deep breath and exhaled.

“What is it, father?”

“What if I told you that the stories you have probably been hearing for the past several days were all true?”

“What do you mean? The stories of burning villages?”

“Yes,” he replied. “And yes, I know that rumors are spreading. They are true, and not just the part about the fires. The reality is that it is
all
true. It all happened just as you heard. From the massive funeral pyres to the dead men rising from the ashes and attacking those who were once their neighbors, it is all bloody true.”

Valthian laughed. “Are you making some sort of joke? I shouldn’t laugh; I know it is not funny. Those poor people were killed in their homes—and on the streets—because of some silly superstition. Making light of the situation is not appropriate!”

“When have you ever known me to make light of death?” Philip asked. “I thought you knew your father better than that. Although as grim as this might sound coming from my lips, there is a part of me that wishes I were joking.”

Valthian said nothing at first; he simply sat in his chair and gazed into his father’s eyes. Philip imagined that the boy was searching beyond his tired expression, perhaps looking for some sign that he had had too much too drink, or maybe that he had finally lost his mind from keeping such long hours over the years.