The Blood Sigil (The Sigilord Chronicles Book 2) (27 page)

She turned away without waiting for a response.

Cailix wove through the crowd of people trying to get to their homes in what little light remained of the day. They huddled in their cloaks and robes, trying to stave off the cold as they made their way to what she imagined must be warm mansions with fireplaces and tables covered with so much food the dogs would get fed scraps from the table.
 

The itch in her throat grew stronger as she moved closer to the pub. Unable to hold it any longer, she coughed and wheezed before she stepped inside. A few drops of blood dripped to the ground.
 

This is bad
.
I'm getting worse by the hour.
She rubbed her thumb over the smooth bloodstone hanging from her neck, taking note of its color, an even darker shade of red than the last time she had looked. It seemed to get darker the sicker she felt.

She pushed through the pub door and scanned the room. Pipe smoke and other noxious smells filled the air, along with aromas of cooked meats and baked goods, all permeated by the stench of old ale.

It didn't take long to find her marks. They sat at a table in the corner where they could watch the front door. Both of them looked up as she entered, then promptly returned to studying their mugs of ale.

She flashed them a big smile and navigated the narrow gaps between tables and pulled up a chair next to the mercenaries.

"Hi, fellas," she said, now offering her biggest, most artificial smile.

"Aren't you the galley wench from the ship?" asked one of the men. "What are you doing here?"

"I think the more important question is, what are you two doing here?" Cailix asked, still all smiles.

"Wench, you need to learn your place," said the fake tax man with grabby hands. "Either serve ale or get out of my sight."

"Why are you two waiting here for Anderis?" She reveled in the look of shock on their faces as she spoke the blood mage's name. "What are you all planning?"

The mercenaries burst up out of their seats, startling most of the customers in the pub.

"Let's not do anything drastic here," said Cailix. "I imagine the local law wouldn't be too happy with you two morons destroying a perfectly good pub. Sit down, have an ale, and tell me all about your plans."

Feeling another cough coming on, she took a slow, deep breath, hoping the feeling would dissipate.
 

The men eased back down into their seats and sipped from their tankards as though nothing had happened.

"Wench, when you leave this pub, I will string you up by your neck and have my way with you while I watch you turn purple and die," the fake tax man muttered in an angry, low whisper.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Cailix. "I would think Anderis would want the pleasure of killing his daughter all to himself."

This time the men did a far better job of concealing their surprise, hiding looks of wide-eyed shock deep in their mugs.

"So what are we all planning, so secretively here at the back of the pub?" Cailix asked, settling back into her chair. "Waiting for Anderis to come in?"

The pub's front door swung inward, and Cailix half-expected to see Anderis stride through as though summoned by the mention of his name. Instead, Colin stepped through and found an empty table.
 

At least he didn't look at me
, Cailix thought.
He's such a
farmer
.

A tickle in her throat irritated her. She swallowed, hoping it would help but it didn't. She waved down a serving woman and asked for water. In response the woman laughed and gave her an exasperated look.

"What do you want, wench?" asked the shorter of the two men.

"I want to know how Anderis plans to kill me," Cailix said.

"He's got bigger things to worry about than a little gnat like you," said the grabby mercenary.

"Shut your hole, Baris," his companion grumbled, punching the mercenary in the chest.

"More important than killing me?" Cailix said with an exaggerated frown. "I'm hurt. Truly."

"Oh, you're going to hurt, girl. Trust us."

Her urge to cough had grown irresistible. If she didn't get out of there soon, she was going to burst into a coughing fit right in front of her enemies, who would be more than happy to tell Anderis about her weakness.

I can't let them see me like that
. She stood up and slid her chair back where it belonged. She took another slow, deep breath to suppress the urge to cough.

"If Anderis wants to kill me, he can meet me at the feeder field across the street at midnight tonight. We can settle up accounts then."

Cailix didn't wait for them to respond. She turned and left the pub. Once outside, she coughed so hard she could barely breathe, spilling blood on the ground. Her lungs felt ice cold, dizziness spun her, and her fingertips grew numb. It took all her strength, but she stood and shuffled across the street to sit on a bench.

A few minutes later Colin exited the pub and took a seemingly random, meandering route to the field.

Maybe he is trainable, after all
, she thought.

"What did they say?" he asked as he approached. He studied her face, then took her hands in his, turning them over to look at her palms. "You're getting sicker."

"They said Anderis will be here in a few days," she lied. "I need some warm food and some time under a blanket near a fire, and I'll be fine."

"Well then," Colin said, helping her up. "Let's find someplace warm."

There's no way I'm going to let him mess this up
, she thought.
I have to face Anderis alone, tonight.
And
if she told him the truth, there was no way he would let her face Anderis alone.

Chapter Eighteen

"Can we go through the tear the same way the bile wolf came though?" asked Timoc.

Murin and Timoc stood in a cavern deep below the city of Naredis, an ice-locked land whose sole source of heat came from the volcano in which the two now stood. Exhausted and blistered from their encounter with the bile wolf, they had examined the area thoroughly, probing the tear through which the beast had come. Murin's nostrils burned from the heat and the smell of brimstone, a stench not unlike rotten eggs.

"There is only one way to find out," Murin said.

He took a step closer to the spot where he knew the fabric had been torn, where space had been altered by the destruction of the vertices and Urus's absorption of the fifth vertex.

"How do you know it's safe?" Timoc asked.

"I don't," Murin replied. "But we have no choice. Wherever the bile wolf came from has either been destroyed or will be soon. I will no longer stand idly by and watch as events unfold, events that I can prevent."

Murin's mind flooded with images, memories from when he had stood by and watched. He had followed the arbiters' orders, done as he was told, abided by the terms of his exile, and watched as countless people were slaughtered. When he finally defied them, they had sent him to the same hell that birthed the foul creature he and Timoc had just killed. He had survived that hell solely on the hope that one day he might be able to repay the debt he owed the universe, to set things right.

He might finally have his chance to make amends for at least some of the things he had done.

"At least let me go first," Timoc offered. "If something goes wrong, you'll still be here."

"Do not be a fool," said Murin. "Wait no more than a few seconds after I enter the rift; then follow my path exactly."

Timoc nodded.

Despite his former apprentice's age, Murin would always see him as a young boy, inexperienced and unaware of the nightmares that inhabit the universe that most people would never see. In truth, Timoc was more than capable of defending himself and Murin. Murin had become as proud of him as he would be of his own son, though he could never bring himself to say as much.

Family was not a topic Murin could stomach discussing.

Without further instruction, Murin leapt forward and up, his extra senses guiding him to where he knew the rift to be. Instead of falling into the magma as his mind expected, he landed on solid stone, nearly slipping on a fresh coating of soft, powdery snow.

He sidestepped just as Timoc appeared, dropping a few inches before landing. Timoc was also caught off guard by the presence of the snow, slipping and falling backward.

"I hate snow," he grumbled, struggling for enough purchase to stand.

Murin took stock of their surroundings. Buildings of all shapes and sizes surrounded them, most with stone foundations and wooden facades and roofs. Chimneys erupted from nearly every roof in the city, dark smoke billowing up from countless stoves against the dark blue sky of the final glow of an early winter's twilight.

Murin pulled a small pouch from inside his robe. He opened it, took a pinch of the crystals inside, and stuffed them into his cheek.

"That stuff will rot your brain," Timoc said.

"That is my ultimate goal," Murin replied. "Heed my advice. When you are close to attaining your next form, you will be begging me for these crystals. The refuse that assaults you from the minds of the humans alone will have you clawing at your head."

"You still hear them?" Timoc asked.

Murin simply nodded, studying their surroundings. "All of them."

"Where are we?" Timoc asked, surveying the nearby city streets.

"Judging from the canals and the shape and size of the harbor, I would say we are in Niragan."

"We should find the head of the local garrison, if there is such a thing," Timoc said. "Or perhaps the leader of the watch. We need to warn them about that wolf."

Murin turned and gave Timoc a hard look. "They have far more to fear than just that one wolf. If I am right, this city and all its people are in grave danger. Bile wolves always travel in packs, and almost always under the heel of a commander. The pack leaders also never travel alone."

"How many of these things did you run into when you were…there?" Timoc asked.

"I stopped counting." Murin squinted down the road in both directions, struggling to remember the layout of the city. It had been nearly a century since he had last set foot here.
 

"Which way do we go?" asked Timoc. "This city is as vast as Vultara."

"Let's try this direction," Murin said, and set off down a randomly chosen road. "Promise me something, Timoc," he added after walking in silence for some time.

"Anything, master," said Timoc, arching an eyebrow.

"When we find Urus, you must not speak to him of the tears between worlds, nor of the damage to the fabric. The boy's mind is burdened with enough as it is. He does not need to understand the full measure of the consequences of his actions. At least not yet."

"It is your prerogative, master," said Timoc, "though I disagree with you. He should know of the consequences so he can learn from them, to be better prepared in the future."

Murin stopped. "He was ready to take his own life before he even knew he had power. He cannot know of the damage his actions have wrought, however unintentional. I am all too familiar with the guilt he would carry after such a discovery."

They hadn't walked much longer when shrill cries broke through the quiet of the snow-muffled evening. The deep, throaty roar of an animal preceded the echoes of screams, swords clashing, and men barking orders.

"I think we may have found another bile wolf," said Timoc.

Murin took off in the direction of the screams, dodging and weaving through a throng of frightened citizens, all running from their homes and away from the nightmares lurking not far beyond.

Flames burst from the roof of a nearby house. Soon the flames had spread to a cluster of homes and businesses. An entire city block had become engulfed in raging fire by the time they arrived.
 

The scene truly was something out of a nightmare, one of the many nightmares that had plagued Murin for centuries. A group of a dozen soldiers surrounded a bile wolf. It easily stood a head taller than the one he and Timoc had killed not much more than an hour before. Its tentacles were jet black, marking the beast as female.

She will not go down easily
, Murin thought.

"Break her jaw!" Murin shouted to the soldiers. There was no time for introductions or pleasantries.
 

Two soldiers responded by throwing their spears. The pikes lodged deep into the beast's throat but seemed to have no effect.
 

Murin ripped a rigid leather breastplate from a fallen soldier and ran for the creature. With their excellent battle instincts and training, when the soldiers saw him charging they attacked again, trying draw the wolf's attention to them.
 

Murin leapt up and slammed the leather chest piece down on the bile wolf's back. He sat astride the beast as the dark, slimy substance that covered its skin began burning through the leather. As smoke drifted up alongside a horrific stench, Murin reached forward, grabbed the top fangs, and kicked down on the monster's jaw with his boots.

The coating of bile on the wolf's teeth burned his hands, but Murin would not let go. He tugged until the jaw ripped away from its skull, then jumped off as the soldiers charged. They stabbed and slashed and tore until nothing remained of the bile wolf but a few dozen severed pieces.