Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (27 page)

Focusing deeper, Praad could
see the despair mixed in with the aura of the youngest man, the one known as
Darius, the one who had lost his brother. It swirled and twisted like tendrils
of black smoke. The inner fire that created them was what Praad wanted to stir,
so that those tendrils would grow and spread, and the gloom and despair caused
by his brother’s death would consume him. The others might be more of a
challenge, but in the end he intended for them to have the same fate.

He wandered ever-closer as he
watched them, content for now just to study his quarry. A gust of laughter from
the group of men echoed over the lake and up into the hills, and the joy of the
sound, short-lived though it was, made him wince.

He circled around, heading
north so they would move toward him when they set off again, planning all the
while.

They had put Lake Fostoria
three days behind them. The hills had grown less steep and less frequent, and
eventually gave way to flatter land. The trees here were not of good stock,
sparse and spindly. At least they would be able to tell when they reached the
edges of the mighty Auerl Forest. The further north they went, the quieter each
grew, all of them spending more and more time alone with their own thoughts. So
it was that when Barlow gave voice to something that they all had noticed with
growing concern for two days or more but none had yet mentioned, they all
started at the sound of him speaking.

“I don’t like the way the land
looks here. The grass, the plants, even the trees. Everything is all washed out
and pale, like the world itself has become ill.” He looked at Silas. “You’ve
been north before. Is this how you remember it?”

“Not exactly. But that was a
long time ago.”

“I know. But it had crossed my
mind that perhaps this is the way of things in these more frigid climes. I
thought you would remember such a…lack of color.”

Silas cleared his throat. “To
be honest, I’ve never seen the like, although I’ve heard tales.”

“So it’s not uncommon here?”
Adrianna asked.

“The tales of which I speak
were not of the north, but rather of the land appearing to be diseased in some
way in other parts of Corterra, even before the famine hit.”

“Parts of Dalusia and
Westphalia,” Darius said.

“Yes,” said Silas. “And now
here. Makes you wonder how long we can be spared in Longvale.”

“It’s certainly depressing to
travel through,” Adrianna commented. “Makes you feel as if there’s a dark cloud
over your head, even when the sky is clear.”

“Sorry to
say this,” Darius added with a wan smile, “but I’m glad you feel it too. I’ve
been sensing something like a shadow for days now, an oppressive feeling. Part
of me thought…well, you know, it was about Luke. But that didn’t seem right. It
was something else, something elusive. I thought maybe I was starting to lose
my mind a little bit.”

“I’ve felt it, too,” Silas
said.

“All of us, then.” Barlow
added. “I’ve been hoping the elven wood will be a more joyful place.”

“If the trees there are like
these,” Adrianna said, “I fear it will be all the more dreary.”

That night was the first they
felt the need to wrap their blankets about their shoulders while they gathered
around the fire for their small dinner. It wasn’t truly cold, even by southern
standards, but a chill was in the air, a promise of far more biting cold to
come.

If anything the land looked
even more sallow and drawn the next day. The companions fell into sullen
silence again, forgetting the brief spark their short conversation the day
before had given each of them, a reminder of life and a burst of hope in the
midst of such gloom. They trudged on, mile after mile, each of them drawing
deeper into themselves, their eyes rarely straying to the horizon now, but
rather downcast, focusing only on the next few feet of barren land.

During much of their journey
they had taken lunch on the move, but today they lacked the energy to do so,
and by unspoken consent they sat beneath a small group of trees and gnawed on a
sparse offering of dried meat and thin shavings of hard cheese. Each wondered
whether the food and water the dwarves had given them would hold out until they
could find the elves, as the landscape before them now seemed incapable of
providing any sustenance.

Darius was hunched over while
he ate, as if a great weight pressed upon him. Suddenly his head shot up and he
looked right and left, searching. He shook his head, started to drop his chin
again, then became fully alert once more. “Anybody else hear that?”

“Hear what?” Adrianna asked.

Darius rose slowly, squinting
to see into the distance. He started to move forward. “A voice.”

Adrianna looked from Silas to
Barlow, both of whom indicated they had heard nothing. Darius wasn’t waiting
for a response. “Darius, wait.” Her words did not deter him, so she quickly
followed.

When she closed on him, he
held up a finger, asking for silence. “There,” he said.

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

He spared her one swift
glance, then trudged on.

Barlow and Silas caught up to
them, but kept silent at Adrianna’s signal.

Darius moved with more
purpose, his steps quick, his eyes alert. He reached a small grove of trees and
passed through quickly, certain the direction he chose was the right one. On
the other side of the grouping of trees he came to an abrupt halt.

Luke stood a dozen yards
ahead, looking as he had in death, save that his eyes were open and alive. He
stood at the edge of a hole, which was five feet in diameter on average, but
which grew and contracted, as if drawing breath. It seemed not an empty space,
but rather a living presence.

Adrianna gasped at the sight
of Luke. Silas crossed himself and Barlow drew his sword.

Gabriel was alive with light.

“Why?” Luke asked. “Why did
you leave me behind?”

“I didn’t mean to,” said
Darius. “I—”

“Don’t talk to him, Darius,”
Barlow said. “It’s a trick.”

Barlow started forward, but
Silas held him back. “Let’s see where this goes,” the cleric whispered.

“That’s not Luke,” Barlow
protested, showing the glowing sword to end any further argument.

“I know. But let’s see what it
wants. We might learn something.”

Barlow’s expression showed his
displeasure with this proposed course of action, but he held his position, at
least for now.

“You let me die,” Luke said to
his brother.

“No,” said Darius. “You know
that’s not true.”

“I’m so empty now. So cold and
alone. Do you know what it’s like to be truly alone? You let me die, and now I
am…nothing. I do not feel…anything. I am just empty.”

Darius opened his mouth, but
all that came out was a pitiful choking sound. He closed his eyes, hoping the
vision before him would vanish.

“There is nothing now, there
was nothing before. We are just empty shells. Our lives mean nothing.”

Barlow started to voice an
argument, but this time it was Adrianna that stopped him. “Have you returned to
tell us this?” she asked.

“It matters little,” Luke
replied. “Our efforts here will change nothing. This world goes its way, random
chaos the only constant. And when life ends…there is no more.”

“But you being here would
prove there is,” Adrianna said.

“Words,” Luke said. “Useless
words.”

“Be gone, foul spirit,” Barlow
said, raising Gabriel. The sword blazed brightly.

Luke held his hands up to ward
off the glare. Suddenly the blackness leapt at his legs, strands like ropes
entwining him and pulling him to the ground. He clawed at the earth and
screamed, “Help me, Darius! Don’t let them take me back!”

Darius sprang to his brother’s
rescue, but Silas broke forward at the same time. The cleric caught the younger
man some ten feet from where Luke thrashed to keep free of the pit, wrestling
him to the ground.

“Silas—” Darius protested.

“It’s a trap, son. Think!”

Barlow, once released by
Silas, had raced forward as well. He flew past his struggling companions and
reached Luke, his sword held high. He brought it down with deadly accuracy, his
target not the black cords that pulled at Luke, but rather Luke himself.

“No!” Darius screamed.

Gabriel easily sliced through
Luke. The strands from the pit yanked his lower body back into the underworld,
but his upper torso remained. It smoked and faded, as had the bodies of the
other denizens of the nether regions they had seen killed on this mortal plane,
but before it was gone, just for an instant, the shape of a demon was visible.

Silas still held Darius fast. “Just
an illusion,” he told him. “You saw its real form. That wasn’t your brother.”

Darius lay still for a moment,
then said, “I’m okay, Silas. You can let me up.”

As Silas helped him to is
feet, the opening of the pit grew smaller and then finally closed. As it drew
shut, Barlow’s sword lost its glow. He probed the area with Gabriel’s tip, the
ground substantial and apparently unchanged.

“How did it do that?” Darius
asked, his voice somewhere between fear and anger. “How could it look like
Luke? Speak like Luke?”
“Must have taken memories from our minds, likely yours, as you were closest to
him,” Barlow speculated with a deep frown on his face.

“But why?”

“Same reason as for the other
attacks. Trying to get the book back. Trying to turn us aside.”

“I thought—” Darius had to
gather himself before he could continue. “I only thought it was him, alive, for
a second. Foolish hope, I suppose. But then…I was afraid it
was
him,
returning from down below.”

“It wasn’t,” Silas said. “You
saw what it really was.”

“But what if—”

“Darius, regardless of what
any of us believe about the afterlife and what might be in store for us, that
was not Luke. Everything that demon said was meant to make us lose hope, to
question whether anything we did mattered. Don’t let it win by believing the
message because of the form it took.”

Adrianna added, “If it had
appeared in its true form and said the same things, would you have thought them
anything other than purposeful lies?”

“No,” Darius admitted. “You’re
right, all of you.” He rubbed a hand roughly over his face three times, then
said. “Can we just get out of here? Please.”

“My thought exactly,” Barlow
answered.

As they moved on, Adrianna
leaned close to Silas. “If it knew where we were and what form to take…”

“I know,” Silas said. “We’re
being watched.”

*

Evening came, and although
they sat for a meal they found no rest. A sense of creeping dread was upon
them, a fear that something malevolent was close, waiting. Their thoughts grew
darker with each passing hour, the vision of Luke a harbinger of doom and their
task fraught with unimaginable peril. It was hardest on Darius. Regardless of
what he told himself about what they had seen earlier in the day, he couldn’t
shake the image of his brother blaming him for his death, and then dying all
over again while he watched helplessly. He worried that his sister and parents
might already have met a similar fate, and the thought of his own death, more
likely all the time in his own mind, didn’t bother him as much as the knowledge
that the book would go back to its previous owner, and all this suffering and
death would have been for nothing.

Darius’ traveling companions
were better equipped to deal with the gloom that pressed on their minds. They
were older, of course, and it had not been their brother who had fallen and
whose image was used to haunt them. More importantly, they each had a mental
discipline beyond that of an average person, Adrianna’s from her studies of
magic, the men from their strong faith. As such they could push back against
the dark cloud threatening to envelop them all, and though they couldn’t name
the enemy they currently faced, they knew they were in a battle nonetheless, a
battle fought not with sword, staff, and magic, but in their minds. Knowing
they were in such a fight was a great asset in their defense, but it was no
guarantee of victory. The enemy appeared to be a powerful one.

Barlow
watched Darius eat, the younger man spending more time looking at the ground
than anywhere else, and taking his food in small, slow bites, going through the
routine more for show than to sate any hunger. Barlow wanted to draw Darius’
thoughts from wherever they were to somewhere else, somewhere safer. “You
know,” he said, “when we get back, one thing I’m really looking forward to is
eating a nice, warm loaf of bread, right out of the oven.” He laughed at
himself. “Seems a bit odd, but that’s what I miss, not the great feast.”

Darius lifted his head long
enough to offer a perfunctory smile.

“I know what you mean,”
Adrianna said, picking up on Barlow’s approach. “I find myself wanting a simple
bowl of stew.”

“Not me,” Silas said, slapping
at his stomach. “I want the works…roast pig, potatoes, vegetables, maybe three
desserts. Had been meaning to lose a little weight, so this is all working out,
but still…”

They all laughed softly,
drawing it out, hoping Darius would join in in some way. After a few seconds of
uncomfortable silence, Adrianna asked, “How about you, Darius? What do you
miss?”

“What?” he mumbled as he
stirred himself. “Oh…nothing special. My mom’s cooking, I guess. I don’t miss
army food.”

Any pleasure they felt at this
brief glimmer of his normal personality was quickly dashed when he rose and
solemnly said, “I’ll take the watch. The whole thing. I won’t be able to sleep
tonight. You three alternate.” He moved away and started a slow, lazy circle
around the camp, his gaze still downward.