Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (5 page)

Darius took a slow sip from
his tankard. “What is it you think we’re looking for?”

The man let out a low laugh,
then brushed a few strands of his stringy hair behind his ear. “Healthy boys
like you, farmers no doubt, here in the city. Lot of pretty girls here.” He
added a wink to this last statement.

Darius smiled. “Thanks anyway,
friend, but I can get my own dates.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” the man
said, emphasizing that he meant no insult. “But some girls are
more…affectionate than others.”

Darius now leaned forward as
well. “What I really need is to find someone with very special abilities. Someone
that could help me out with a problem I need to solve.”

The man scrunched his face up
in confusion. “What’s that? What kind of special abilities?”

“Rare ones, for sure. Mystical.
Magical.”

The man laughed, loud and hard
enough that several heads turned their way. When he calmed himself, he said,
“Better be careful, asking around for things like that. Get you in a lot of
trouble, it will.”

The innkeeper suddenly
appeared at the man’s shoulder. “C’mon now, Luden, leave these young men be.”

“Aw,”
Luden moaned. “Can’t a man try to make some honest coin?”

“He can,” the innkeeper
confirmed. “Or he can behave like you. Off you go now!”

Luden gave a little salute and
wandered off, throwing one last wink back at Luke, as if to say, “Come see me
after you lose your uptight friend.”

“Sorry about that,” said the
innkeeper. “He don’t mean no harm.”

“No trouble at all,” said
Darius.

The innkeeper made as if to
leave, hesitated, then sat down and leaned in close, just as Luden had done. “I
certainly didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not on you anyway, but Luden was right
about being careful with your…inquiry. Asking about certain things can be
dangerous.”

“I’m not sure I—”

“Look, I don’t want to judge
anyone, and religious folk for the most part are good citizens. But asking
around about spiritual things these days isn’t a good idea.”

Darius paused, puzzled but
trying not to show it. He made a connection and asked, “What happened to the
church?”

“Nothing I’ll talk about, nor
will anyone else here, if they know what’s good for ‘em. Now, you boys want a
room, or will you be moving on?”

“Dinner will do, thanks,” said
Darius. “I hope we didn’t cause you any trouble.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said the
innkeeper, although the way he looked around when he left the table left some
doubt as to whether he believed himself.

A short time later they were
outside again, and Darius suggested they depart. “Likely too late to strike up
further conversations, and I’d rather save the coin we’d spend on a room for a
less fair evening. Plus we’ve apparently hit a sore spot with the locals. I
didn’t like some of the looks we got after we talked to Luden and the
innkeeper.”

When they had reached the Old
Road and started west again, Luke wondered aloud, “What if we have this problem
elsewhere, people mistaking ‘mystical’ and ‘magical’ for ‘spiritual?’ ”

Darius shrugged. “I hope we
don’t. Maybe I can find a better way to phrase it. But I’d prefer not to come
right out and say ‘sorcerer’ or ‘wizard.’ ”

“And you can’t just describe
the problem of opening a book with a strange lock. That’s the kind of question
the King’s Guard will be on alert for if they’re hunting for the book.”

“You’re right. Guess the
lock’s not the only puzzle we have to figure out.”

*

Over the next four days they stopped
in three other towns, none of which had a burned church or local citizens who
were put off by their odd inquiries, but none of which brought them any closer
to the answer they sought. As Darius was brooding on their lack of success, his
gaze eventually fell upon the ominous clouds darkening the horizon.

“Don’t like the look of
those,” Luke said, eying the same thing.

“Well, our luck couldn’t hold
out forever. Had to rain sooner or later. Let’s step along a bit quicker. If we
can find shelter, we’ll take it.”

Gusts of
cool wind met them before the clouds moved overhead, the smell of rain
unmistakable on the air. The rain started slowly, a few big drops the precursor
to the downpour. The sky had remained quiet, no thunder or lightning
threatening them, and as they rounded a bend in the road Darius was ready to
take shelter in the trees until the worst of the rain passed. It was Luke who
first saw that luck was with them. He plucked on his brother’s sleeve and
pointed ahead to a roadside tavern.

They broke into a run just as
the rain started to pelt down, and despite their young, strong legs, the storm
won out, soaking them before they reached the door. They entered hurriedly,
slamming the door against the windswept drops that chased them inside, and
shook themselves off as their eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the tavern.

A half-dozen patrons populated
the place, each nursing a drink of some sort and each keeping to himself. The
barkeep, a thin man with thick, bushy sideburns, barely glanced at the newcomers
as they collected themselves and found a table. Reluctantly, it seemed, he
deigned to walk over to them.

“What’ll ya have?”

“Just a couple of pints,” said
Darius, the man’s attitude making him hesitant to order food.

The full fury of the storm
hit, the rain slapping hard against the roof and walls while the wind whistled
and shrieked. Luke shivered. “Sure glad we found this place. Trees wouldn’t
have done us much good as shelter.”

Darius nodded while he watched
the rain run down the tavern’s lone window, a waterfall broken here and there
by direct hits.

They took their time with
their drinks, hoping the storm might pass swiftly, and Luke felt a growing
uneasiness about the otherwise quiet interior or the tavern. “Place is starting
to give me the creeps,” he muttered.

As if the words were a cue, a
grizzled man stood with some effort, then limped over to their table. “Mind if
I sit with you young gentlemen a spell?”

Not seeing a good alternative,
Darius gestured at an empty chair, inviting the man to sit.

The man licked his lips and
looked at them with his right eye full open and his left squinting, as if
trying to bring them into proper focus. “Lonely country for two young chaps,”
he stated.

“The Old Road can be a lonely
place,” Darius said, trying to shift the meaning of the word from veiled threat
to simple conversation. “But there have been others through here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” the man agreed
with a strange, leering grin. “King’s men and robbers…and maybe the two of you
are no different.”

Darius leaned back in his
chair, trying to appear indifferent. He was glad they had chosen a corner
table, as he knew no one was behind him and he could see everyone else in the
room. Whether the others were in league with this man or not he couldn’t yet
tell, but all eyes were now focused on the man and the two brothers.

“So which are you?” the man
demanded.

“I’m no robber,” Darius
answered, “and if you say robbers and king’s men are no different, then I guess
I’m neither.”

The man looked Darius up and
down, measuring him and his answer. He smiled, suddenly more affable, and the
tension in the room abated. “Well enough said. If you’re neither, then you’re a
simple traveler—though we don’t see many of them in these dark days—or you’re
in search of something.”

“If I was looking for
something,” Darius said, returning the man’s grin in a knowing way, “might you
be the sort of man that could help me find it?”

The man nodded. “You bring
honor to your parents. They raised a bright boy. Now, what is it you seek?”

“I need to get in touch with
someone who has special abilities. Someone who has skills some might
consider…unnatural.”

The man rubbed his nose with
the sleeve of his shirt. “An odd request. One might ask for more information
before responding to such. There are a lot of strange things going on in the
world, and a lot of power better left unused. I’ve dealt with wicked men often
enough, but there are others…” The man shook his head. “If you’re looking to
make contact with those that are said to drink blood and call on dark powers, I
can’t help you.”

Darius was taken aback. “I
hadn’t heard of such a thing, and even if I had, you misunderstand me.”

“Then perhaps you should be
more plain in your language.”

Darius
cleared his throat, then said quietly, “I’m looking for a wizard.”

The man leaned back and
scratched his head. “That’s a tall order. Quite tall. I’ve heard stories, but
never more than that.” He pondered some more, and then said, mainly to himself,
“He might know, if anyone would.”

“Who?” Darius asked, trying to
contain his excitement.

The man waved the question
away. “That’s information, son, and I don’t give that away for free. See here,
it’s late. How about you take a room for the night, and I’ll go see if
my…friend…knows anything that might help you. If so, we can talk price
tomorrow. If not, we simply part ways.”

Regardless of how little
Darius liked or trusted the man, it was the closest they had come to a
breakthrough since the journey began, and a possibility, however remote, he
could not walk away from. He agreed to the man’s proposal, then clapped Luke on
the back and said, “Let’s go see the barkeep about a room.”

*

The room was small, dirty, and
overpriced, but the brothers tried to see the best in the situation—having a
roof over one’s head and a bed to sleep in while a storm raged outside made
matters seem far better. They wanted to rise early, and the nature of the
accommodation gave them even more incentive to blow out the room’s two candles
as soon as possible and settle in to sleep.

Sometime after midnight the
storm passed, and a silence settled over this part of the world. Had the
brothers not been so worn out from their time on the road, and so seduced by
the dubious comforts of the lumpy mattress they slept upon, they might have
heard the furtive whispers and shuffling feet earlier. As it was, when they
were rudely woken each was held fast by strong arms, and knives were positioned
over their throats.

Darius swam up from sleep,
sure the situation was bad before he fully knew why. He tried to remain calm
and still while his eyes fought for focus, a single candle that guttered in the
breeze that wafted through the just-opened window the only light.

“Lay still, boy, or they’ll
cut you whether they want to or not.” The speaker was the man they had talked
to earlier, and the words were directed at Luke, who struggled to free himself
from the two men that held him down. The assailants, the brothers could now
see, were the other men present in the tavern earlier that evening.

Luke managed to make eye contact
with his brother, and receiving a nod, did his best to relax, at least
physically. He would wait for one of them to let down their guard, to loosen
their grip, and then…

The man held up Luke’s pack
like a prize. He turned out the contents, and then pawed through them for a few
seconds with a frown that could have been disappointment or simply the mask of
someone intent on a task.

“Good enough,” the man said,
the words as non-committal as his expression. “Now for the other one.”

“If you mean to rob us, we
don’t have much of value,” Darius said. He glanced at his sword. It was beside
the bed, even within arm’s reach, but with the men holding him and the knife
biting down on his windpipe, it may as well have been back home.

“I’ll be the judge of that,
although I don’t intend to rob you unless you deserve it.” He searched around
the bed with the candle before him, giving a small cry of triumph as he found
Darius’ pack.

The man knelt to go through
Darius’ belongings, and as he did so Darius could see no more than his
shoulders and the back of his head. He felt his insides tighten and forced
himself to close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath.

“Well, what have we here,” the
man said. He rose and marched to Darius’ side of the bed. Thrusting the candle
and his discovery into Darius’ face, he demanded an explanation with a harsh,
“What’s this?”

Darius had expected to be
confronted with the book, but instead it was his blue-and-yellow uniform, one
that identified him as a soldier in Longvale’s army. Unsure what kind of answer
would be best, Darius chose to simply state the obvious. “It’s a uniform.”

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said you
weren’t the king’s man.”

“Service is forced upon
everyone once they come of age. Being forced to fight in the war doesn’t mean
I’m part of the King’s Guard.”

The man leaned close, his
stale breath making Darius want to recoil. “If I thought you were a member of
the Guard we wouldn’t be talking.” He smiled, a cruel grimace that made one of
his companions snicker and say “Want me to do ‘em?”