Necrophobia (9 page)

“Just Sevaur making a fool of himself.” Claire said turning around.

“Nothing new about that.” He conceded and nodded respectfully towards the Commander.

“I don’t wish to take up much of your time, only thank you for your efforts earlier. You’ve done the order a great service. The both of you.” Amelia smiled between them. “Alvis spoke highly of you and insisted he wouldn’t have been able to do it alone.”

“I think that might be a slight exaggeration on his part, but thank you.”

“There’s not much I can offer you, you hand-craft your own bows and arrows with a talent we can’t seem to match here. Few Caelites ever make much use of their archery practice.” Amelia said with a hint of disappointment.

Claire smiled, the Commander was one of their best archers but she’d lost by a small margin in an informal archery competition against Claire a few years ago. She’d taken defeat gracefully and sworn to improve and challenge her again in future. Sometimes Claire wondered whether Amelia had let her win on purpose but it was difficult to say either way.

“So, perhaps you might find this useful to replace the one you lost.” She retrieved a beautiful rapier, spotless and gleaming in the flickering light from her waist and handed it towards the Claire. The hilt decorated with an ornate dragon with its wings spread open to guard the hands, the pommel tipped like a spear. “You’re an archer first and foremost; but there may come a time when you need a reliable close-range weapon.”

Claire nodded in awe as she inspected the master crafted rapier, clearly one of the commander’s own weapons.

“It’s never failed me. May it serve you well.” She smiled and unclipped the scabbard off her belt.

“I couldn’t possibly take this from you. It’s a work of art. Surely you need it?” Claire managed.

“I don’t get many chances to use it these days. My duties as Knight-Commander tend to be less than exciting. Just petty squabbles and the day-to-day struggle to keep our prestigious order running. You’ll make more use of it than me I’m afraid. When you need it most it’ll protect you.”

Claire stammered her thanks and Sevaur remained silent inspecting the intricate and loving craftsmanship behind the blade.

“As for you Sevaur, your brother recommends you highly and insists I induct you to the order. I’m afraid that I cannot force anyone to join, but can at least ask that you consider it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am but I don’t think I can. I don’t know which order I want to join yet but I want to see what the world has to offer first.” His smile widened. “Besides, I don’t know which end of a spear is which.”

Amelia tilted her head with a faint flicker of a smile. “He warned me you’d say that.”

She turned to leave and paused at the door. “I’ve arranged accommodation for the night. I would not recommend travelling through that blizzard.” After exchanging their thanks she left.

“I wonder what magic that blade contains.” Sevaur asked turning it over in his hands before handing it back to Claire.

“What makes you think it’s magic?”

He ran his hand through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth out the curls and unrestrained locks. “What makes you think it isn’t? Can’t you feel the magic within it?”

“Not really.” She conceded. “I’ve never claimed to be an expert on magic.”

“You could be great at it if you tried.” He flexed his own gauntlet as he stared at the blade. “Either way, all the Caelites enchant their equipment and she’s their leader. I’d bet you anything that blades more powerful than she claims.”

“It’s only as powerful as the user. I’m not much for fencing.” Claire stared at the beautiful ornate handle, admiring the fine details on the dragon.

“I’ll teach you, if you like. Don’t feel too bad - you saw what happened last time I used a bow.”

“Gods, don’t remind me.”

His laughter became a yawn and he walked towards the door.

“I do try you know. With magic. It’s just—” Claire confessed and soon found herself at a loss for words.

“—I know. You don’t need to explain.” His shoulders slumped and he stifled another yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Captain Reiner stood guard in the dungeons beneath the fortress, his spear in easy reach and his back arched haughtily as he watched the trapped cultists. The only light filtering in came from the wall-mounted braziers and candles, the cells reinforced with iron and defensive enchantments to dispel hostile magic. Reiner checked each and every enchantment every so often whilst he waited; eager to avoid a repeat of earlier. Some of the cultists captured were enthralled, and almost useless; but one or two showed the wide-eyed fear of someone realising how much trouble they’re in. Beside him Captain Lewis paced impatiently, tapping his sword on the walls and bars as he strutted around waiting.

“How can you just stand there, Soranus? We should be interrogating them.” Lewis grumbled after a while.

“Those our orders. Settle down Elson.” Reiner replied watching the blank-eyed thrall staring at him, motionless. “This one will never talk.”

“Of course not. What use are they?” Elson Lewis was a veteran captain and as irritable now as the day they’d first met. Age hadn’t improved him, his grey-white hair and lined face enhanced his sour expression.

“If we’re lucky we can reverse their condition. Failing that perhaps we can extract information using a telepath.” Reiner sighed. Once captain Lewis settled on a course of action, debating with him was futile.

The older man laughed and cupped his forehead in his hands. “I told you boy, Lucia, Caelus bless her soul is dead. We’re out of telepaths. And I doubt you know any magic that can rip the secrets out of their blasphemous minds.”

“We’ll find a way.”

“Don’t need to. All we need is some sharp tools, and a locked room. I’ll find the answers. Trust me on that one boy.”

“That’s not how we do things around here.” Amelia spoke as she emerged from the shadows, causing Elson to almost jump out of his skin. “Stand down, Captain.”

“Ma’am.” He saluted. “Didn’t hear you approach.”

“Evidently not.” She glanced at Reiner and dismissed his salute. “I understand your desire for justice and answers, Captain but that just won’t do. We’re above such primitive methods.”

“Ma’am. With respect—” The captain tried but was silenced by Amelia’s raised hand.

“I’ve heard it before and your objections are noted. Confessions and information extracted through torture are almost useless at best and outright fabrications at worst. They’ll tell you anything they wish you to hear. Just to make the pain stop.” Elson Lewis seemed to balk and shrink away from her determined expression, as she pressed forwards and spoke in a hushed tone. “Taking our frustration and grief out on our prisoners is unacceptable. We’ll not disgrace our order; we are better than this captain.
You
are better than this Elson.”

He bowed his head in shame and stepped back. “I’m sorry Commander. I lost a lot of good men and women today. I won’t sully their memory.”

“I’ll relieve you of your post for now. Get some air. I won’t rest till we’ve gotten to the bottom of this.” She replied, her tone softened but remained firm. “Send in Captain Remus, if she’s available, please.”

The Captain saluted and walked down the darkened corridor and up the stairs, his shoulders slumped and dejected.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She turned to face Reiner and the prisoners. “He’s loyal, for now. I’ve checked. He just needs to calm down.”

“I hope so, Commander. He was right about one thing, we’re out of telepaths.” Reiner replied, his voice hushed so the prisoners couldn’t hear. “I’ve been watching some of them, I think we could get some information from them if we offered them a deal perhaps. The thralls though, no chance.”

“I suspect you’re correct, Captain. That’s why I’ve requested Laelia to join us.”

“Commander?”

“Before she joined us she spent three years working with the Night Guard, under Interrogator Niklaus Thorn. I believe he’s made Inspector since.”

“The city guard of Kriegsfeld?” He neglected to mention their role as vampire hunters.

“The very same. It’s my hope she’s brought some of the skills she learnt under Thorn to us. We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way given the unfortunate death of Lucia.”

Reiner nodded. It was their best bet and his curiosity piqued. Laelia never mentioned her past in the Night Guard before, she was a very private person.

Knight-Commander Rhae approached the cell of one of the nearest prisoners and opened the hatch. The worried face of a young man, scrawny and rat-faced jumped and backed away from the cell-door.

“Relax. Answer our questions honestly and you’ll be well-treated.”

The man nodded frantically and whimpered about his innocence.

“You called, Knight-Commander?” Laelia appeared from the corridor and snapped a quick salute. She was tired and exhaustion visible on her face but she managed a smile.

“I wish to question some of captives with your aid, if you are able.” Amelia replied.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“I didn’t know you were in the Night Guard Laelia.” Reiner said. As the Knight-Commander opened the cell and guided the prisoner out.

The Captain tilted her head and smiled. “You didn’t ask.”

“I see.”

She delicately moved Reiner aside and followed Amelia and the bound prisoner to the interrogation room and sat him on a desk. The room was old and dusty, disuse and time had been unkind to it but it would suit their needs. Laelia sat opposite the prisoner and flicked through some of the papers they’d hastily compiled on what little they knew. Feeling out of place Reiner found a wall by the door to stand aside and watch the interview, his arms held behind his back and stood in what he assumed to be a non-threatening manner. The Commander closed the door and stood beside him watching the discussion, her own arms folded.

“Let’s start with your name.” Laelia’s voice echoed around the cold iron room.

“Rickward. My name’s Rickward, Miss.”

“Tell me about the cult, the group of people that attacked us today.”

Rickward looked nervously between the three armoured and stern Caelites before him, and twitched his rat-like face.

“I don’t know much. Honest. They don’t tell you much. They just offer you things. I only joined this week.”

“Go on.” Laelia replied, scribbling notes down on her sheet of paper. “Who is in charge? A man named Inquisitor Horus?”

The man raised a confused eyebrow.

“Haures. Haures sorry. Who wrote this? Awful handwriting.” She glared at Reiner behind her with a knowing look.

He bit back a retort and returned the glare as Amelia stifled a laugh.

“Anyway, Inquisitor Haures correct?”

The rat-faced Rickward nodded again, and winced.

“Something wrong?”

“No Ma’am. H-Haures promised us many things, he promised us he could cheat death.” He stuttered.

“Desecrating dead bodies into mindless slaves is a poor way to cheat death Rickward.” Reiner said.

“They’re just disposable warriors. He can resurrect the dead. Proper like. I’ve s-seen it.” The man winced again.

“Proper like?” Laelia repeated, making sure she’d heard him.

“Yeah. True revival. He brought back one of his followers as a show of faith.”

Reiner and Amelia exchanged a dark look.

“Where did you first meet him?”

The man winced and a gasped in pain, nearby one of the candles flickered and blew to one side.

“What’s wrong, Rickward?” Amelia asked, detaching herself from the wall. The candles flickered again, but there was no breeze in the room. No windows or drafts.

“Noth—” Rickward started but his eyes rolled back into his head and he twitched on the spot. Blood poured in thick torrents out of his nose and ears and he collapsed hard onto the metal desk with a painful thud.

Reiner ripped open the door and shouted down the dim hall at one of the Caelites on guard. “Get a healer down here now!” He shouted.

“Sir! You’ve got to come see this!” One shouted back, the voice stirred the others into action.

He ran to the cell at the end beside the Caelite. Inside the prisoner lay dying on the floor, twitching and bleeding.

“They’re all doing it sir! They’re all dying.”

The man was right, in each cell, sealed and warded against external intrusion their prisoners convulsed and died. Their last chance at answers dying in a pool of their own blood.

“What’s going on Captain?” Knight-Commander Amelia appeared her voice wavered.

“They’re all dying. Something’s killing them!”

“Impossible.” She muttered in disbelief, unlocking the cell door with a clank of keys from her belt and checked the collapsed figure on the floor. “Did you sense any magic?”

“No Commander. None.” He knelt down and looked at the prisoner, blood from the nose and ears, just like the one being interrogated. “These cells are lined with lead and iron. There’s no magic here. I have no idea what’s happened to them.”