The Blood Sigil (The Sigilord Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

"What could be left out here for the rats to eat?" Therren asked.

A dog's bark spilled into the alley, echoing and seeming to come from all directions at once.

"I'm guessing the dogs eat the rats," Therren said.

"I'm done following this maze, playing along with this creature's game," Goodwyn said, looking up. "Let's get a better view."

It didn't take much effort to knock the rotting front door of the home off its hinges. Everything on the island was in some form of decay from the salt air and water, and the harsh seasons. Thankfully the home's staircase had been supported by stone nubs in the walls, as the wooden planks had long since turned into a gooey pulp. After a long and slippery climb up the wall using the small stone ledges for support, they reached the top floor.
 

Square openings broke up the otherwise solid stone walls where wood-framed glass had once formed windows. With expert grace, Therren sat on a window ledge and pulled himself upright using the roof overhang above. Standing on the window sill on the tips of his toes, he jumped up and clambered to the roof. A moment later he offered Goodwyn a hand up.

Goodwyn walked to each of the corners and peered down at the roads below. From this vantage point he could see the canals veer away from the island's center and the transition to cobblestone walkways, noting that the center of the island must be at a higher elevation than the flooded outskirts. He could also see all of the rubble piles blocking the roads.

"I was right," he said. "That wreckage is no accident. Look, the piles are set up the way we would use earth mounds with pikes to force cavalry into single file and to slow down any kind of charge. And there, the lines are staggered unevenly and the sharpest parts of the big stone blocks all point outward. Someone is definitely fortifying this area."

Again they were interrupted by the sound of a dog barking.

They walked to the corner of the roof closest to the noise and searched the bleak landscape for signs of the animal.

"There," Therren said, pointing into the distance.
 

Goodwyn squinted through the snow, which had started falling faster with bigger flakes. He could just barely make out a dark, four-legged shape as it dashed into an alley. A moment later frantic barking filled the streets, followed by growling. Finally, a whimper and then silence.

"What just happened?"
 

"I don't know, and I still can't see what is going to happen," Goodwyn said. "Let's go check it out."

They jumped across the gap between their building and the adjoining rooftop. Then another and another, until they needed to cross the street to reach the rooftop next to the alley into which the dog had vanished.

"Think we can make it across or should we go down?" Goodwyn asked, sizing up the gap between roofs. The building on the other side of the street was shorter than theirs.

"Let's jump. We don't have time to climb down and back up. Whatever hurt that dog could be getting away. It might be our killer."

The two took a running start and leapt from the roof. Therren landed safely on both feet, but Goodwyn fell short, slamming into the side of the building and sliding down until his feet found an open window sill.
 

Therren helped him to the roof, and they made their way to the other side. A moment later Therren dropped to his stomach and pressed Goodwyn to do the same. Therren's eyes were wide with panic.

"What?" Goodwyn whispered. He crawled to the edge of the roof and peered into the street below.

A large yellow dog lay on the ground, a hole ripped in its side and its entrails spread out onto the stones, steam drifting up from the wound into the falling snow. Standing over the dog's body, feasting on the corpse, was a foul creature that made the horrors of his own nightmares seem like happy children's tales.

The creature had four black, muscled legs that glistened with a purple sheen. Bone and tissue from the dog dangled from its terrible maw, where dual rows of wedge-shaped teeth ground the prey into a paste. Its head stood chest-high to an average man. Worn and broken thorns protruded from both of its wagging tails. Bright red tentacles pushed out from slime-coated holes in the creature's neck, twelve in all, slithering across the ground and sniffing the fresh kill. Goodwyn could hear the tentacles snort and inhale all the way from the roof, just as he could hear the creature's deep growl as it ripped apart and swallowed more pieces of the dog.

"What in all the hells is that thing?" Therren whispered.

Goodwyn shook his head. If there were creatures roaming the hells, then he imagined they would look just like the beast before them.

The creature cocked its head, its pointed ears twitching and rotating. Goodwyn held his breath and the two fell silent, waiting for the hell-thing's attention to return to its meal.

They waited as the creature leisurely devoured the dog. When it had finished, nothing remained but bone and a few bits of fur. The hell-dog had even lapped up the last drops of blood with its purple forked tongue. Its belly full, the thing stalked down the alley and turned a corner.
 

Goodwyn waited until it was out of sight to whisper, "That thing could definitely have ripped up all those bodies in the leather quarter."

"Why didn't it finish eating them, then, like it did the dog?"
 

"Maybe the soldiers spooked it and it ran," Goodwyn said, getting to his knees and stretching.

"I can't imagine anything that could scare a beast like that."

"Until a few minutes ago, I couldn't imagine a beast like that at all," said Goodwyn, brushing fresh snow from his cloak. He didn't know what kind of animal had been killed to make the cloak, but its black and grey fur was incredibly good at holding in the warmth, certainly much better than the hair of a Kestian camel would have.

"We should kill it," Therren suggested. "Bring its head back to Jols as proof that we've taken care of the problem. Niragan will be so thankful we helped out that they will have to give Waldron the aid it needs and stop making Aegaz waste his time in that castle."

Goodwyn fingered the grip of his suzur. "Killing the beast may not be so easy."

"Let's follow it, then drop down off the roof and take it by surprise. If we don't give it a chance to attack, it'll be over in one stroke," Therren said, moving along the edge of the roof.

"If the building is low enough, I can hit that thing with my suzur from a rooftop," Goodwyn said.
 

"Let's do it." Therren clapped Goodwyn on the shoulder.

They waited another minute to be sure the beast wouldn't hear them and then jumped across the street, this time both clearing the roof line easily. They crossed several more alleys before they caught sight of the monster again.
 

It was trotting along the street, seemingly without a care in the world, its fleshy tentacles extending to sniff the walls and ground. Goodwyn slowly eased the suzur out of its holder and off his waist while Therren drew his sword from its sheath without a sound.

They followed the hell-dog further down the road. A nagging thought occurred to Goodwyn as they matched the creature's pace, readying for the right moment to strike.

There are no obstacles on this road
.
 

The creature stopped at an intersection and sat down, sniffing the air, its head whipping left and right. Goodwyn wondered if it had caught the scent of another meal. He had made sure they were downwind of the dog before they approached so it wouldn't smell them.

"It's not moving; we should strike now," Therren whispered.

"Okay, on three," Goodwyn whispered.

Therren nodded and held up a finger. Then two fingers. Something didn't quite feel right to Goodwyn, but he didn't know what. Therren now held up three fingers, then made a fist. The nagging, nebulous thought became a concrete realization just as Therren was about to leap from the rooftop. Goodwyn darted forward and shoved him to the ground. They lay on their stomachs and peered over the clay tile lip on the roof that kept them hidden.

"What?" Therren whispered.

"That beast isn't alone," Goodwyn replied, his voice barely audible. "One hell-dog didn't drag all that stone debris to make those barriers."

Confirming Goodwyn's fears, two more of the creatures trotted into the intersection, each sitting down and blocking the road. Only one stretch of road remained open, the one leading further into the island's center.

They could see the center of the island now. In the middle of an open space, with all its surrounding buildings facing inward, a massive stone rose to a height twice as high as the next tallest building on the island. Unlike everything else on Findanar, this tower showed no sign of decay or exposure.
 

"What are they waiting for?" Therren whispered.

The beasts all sat facing away from the central tower, waiting for something.

"It's a patrol," Goodwyn replied. "They keep watch."

"But wh—or what—are they reporting to?"

"I'm not sure I want to find out. There are too many of them. We should go tell Jols what we found."

"You want to run away?"

"We've never fought creatures like this. We have no idea what they can do, and you saw it ripping that dog apart. We need to come back with reinforcements, and a plan."

"Kestians do not run away from a fight," Therren said.

Goodwyn shot him an angry look. "Have you learned nothing of the real world since we've been away from Kest? Let's be smart about this. You and I are going to be together for the rest of our lives, and I don't intend for those lives to end right here fighting a foolish battle. Let's go."

"Wait." Therren grabbed Goodwyn's arm. "Look, toward the tower."

 
A group of shadowy figures stepped onto the road leading toward the tower, their dark shapes solidifying as they emerged from the fog. There were four in all. At first they seemed human, until they reached the intersection and Goodwyn could see them clearly through the snow.

Their skin clung to their bones as though there were no flesh or muscle in between. Dark, empty eye sockets stared ahead at nothing, while toothless mouths hung open, drooling black ooze. Torn, decayed clothing hung from their gaunt forms. Some had a few strands of hair clinging to their shriveled scalps; others were bald. Mud and other unidentifiable stains covered their bodies.

"Walking corpses," Goodwyn whispered. "What in the hells have we gotten ourselves into? And what are those things waiting for?"
 

"Let's not wait around to find out," Therren said, starting to slide back from the edge.

"A Kestian opting for retreat?" Goodwyn mocked.

It was then that shades of possible futures appeared before Goodwyn, flooding his eyes and mind. A dozen shimmering, translucent Therrens joined him on the roof, each heading in a different direction, each ripped to pieces as soon as it landed on the ground below.

"No, stop," Goodwyn urged.

More of the walking corpses appeared below, spilling out of alleys and streets all around them. Had Goodwyn and Therren moved just a moment ago, they would have been surrounded and likely torn to bits like the leather quarter victims. The stench of rot wafted up from below. Goodwyn struggled not to gag.
 

The corpses made their way onto the road and joined the others, all milling about, paying the four-legged beasts no heed. Returning the favor, the monstrous dog-things ignored the walking corpses.

"Okay, let's go now," Goodwyn whispered.

The two crept back away from the edge. Once out of sight of the crossroads, they made for the opposite corner of the roof and leapt over the alley. Without looking back to see if they had been noticed, they broke into a full sprint and ran from roof to roof as fast as they could.

They had crossed a dozen or more streets when Goodwyn landed on a soft spot next to a chimney in a small roof. He felt it collapse beneath his weight and he fell through, landing in a heap of stone and rotten wood. Therren dropped in after him, landing and rolling to soften the impact.

"You think those things heard the crash?" Therren asked.

"I don't know." Goodwyn scanned the room, seeing nothing but mold-coated walls and debris. There were no shadows of the future to help him decide what to do next.
 

They stumbled down two staircases and burst through a weak door out into the street, then sprinted down the road, putting as much distance between them and the tower as possible.

As they turned a corner they skidded to a halt before a group of shambling corpses, a dog-thing forming the rear of the group, gnashing its teeth impatiently.

"Run!" Goodwyn shouted. Therren needed no encouragement and they bolted in the opposite direction.

"Follow me," Goodwyn yelled, dodging the ghosts of possible futures that lurched out of windows and alleys toward them. As each new wave appeared, Goodwyn changed course, avoiding dozens of possible deaths at the hands of the hellhounds and the corpses.
 

They had run nonstop for several minutes before Goodwyn realized that they were gaining elevation. The canals were nowhere to be seen and they were back within sight of the tower.
 

"We're being herded again," Goodwyn wheezed, sliding to a stop on the snow-dusted cobblestones.

"How? There's nobody behind us."

"The futures—running away from them is pushing us back toward the tower."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but we need to get out of here. Now!"

Goodwyn turned back toward the canals and led Therren through the streets. As they ran, the sheer number of the shimmering, translucent possibilities of future enemies overwhelmed him. They were everywhere, walking corpses and ravenous hell-dogs crowding into his view so thickly he could no longer see the street.

"There's too many of them," he shouted. "I can't see where I'm going!"

"Take my hand," said Therren. Goodwyn gripped it and followed his friend through whirling snow and countless intangible enemies.