Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia) (8 page)

Chapter 12

It was well before daylight this time as Errol looked down at the body in front of him through the light cast by his warding wand, a score of people standing nearby and watching him closely. On this occasion, things hit a little closer to home; he knew the victim. It was Tern Piccolo, a fifteen-year-old whose family had lived in Stanchion as long as anyone could remember. The boy’s father, Bull Piccolo – a huge, muscular brute of a man – stood nearby, looking pale and shaken even by torchlight. Tern had been his youngest son, and he had blatantly doted on the boy.

As opposed to before, the killing did not take place at the river, but an area known as the Wishing Well. There wasn’t really a well here, but there was a large pond. According to legend, the area
had
been the site of a well at one point, but during a period of great drought a young girl had tossed a coin into the well and made a wish for water – enough water to save all the farmers in the area, their crops, and their cattle. The well had then allegedly began gushing forth water and did not stop until the present-day pond covered the entire region.

For a while, young lovestruck couples had taken to making wishes at the pond, tossing in small stones with their initials carved in them rather than coins. As a result, the spot had also garnered the nickname “Kissing Well.” These days, however, the pond was primarily used for recreational fishing.

Looking at Tern’s body with the mayor next to him, Errol could see that he had been killed in exactly the same fashion as the prior victim: he had essentially been crushed to death, squeezed to a pulp. The only difference was that Tern was also soaking wet. Mercifully, someone had the good grace to lead the boy’s father away from the macabre scene.

“It’s the same creature,” Errol said once Bull was out of earshot. “I’m sure of it.”

“And next to another body of water,” the mayor commented. “Actually, though, Tern was found floating
in
the pond. Tilman Godfrey”
–
the mayor gestured towards another Stanchion resident
–
“pulled him out.”

Errol nodded, but didn’t say anything. It appeared that Tern had been killed in the water, but the tracks would hopefully yield more clues. Again, however, the area had been severely trampled by people walking through the area. Errol sighed in exasperation but made no comment.

“So, what are you thinking?” the mayor asked after watching Errol patrol the scene in silence for a few minutes. “Maybe a constrictus got him while he was swimming?”

“Swimming?” Errol asked incredulously. “Fully clothed? In his pants, his shirt, his boots?”

“Okay, well, maybe he got too close to the water and it pulled him in.”

Errol shook his head. “The tracks tell a different story. Here’s where Tern stepped.”

Errol pointed to a booted print, clearly evident in the moist soil next to the pond.

“Notice the depth of the print,” Errol continued, “and how far it is from the last one he made, and those before it.”

The mayor nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“Tern was running. I think he was being chased by whatever killed him, and he dove into the pond, trying to get away.”

The crowd around them murmured softly, but Errol ignored them, continuing to study the ground instead.

“Apparently he failed,” the mayor said.

Errol nodded, and pointed at what appeared to be a winding trail through the mud. “It looks like it went in after him. And after it was done, it came back out”
–
still looking at the ground, Errol began walking away from the pond
–
“and went this way.”

The crowd parted for Errol as he followed the serpentine trail of the creature. Warding wand still held high, he pulled out his dagger as an additional precaution. Almost immediately afterwards, he heard the soft hiss of blades leaving their sheaths as the crowd followed his lead and drew their weapons as well.

As before, the trail stopped at a tree. This time, however, there wasn’t enough natural light to see what lurked in the branches above them. Gripping his dagger tightly, Errol held his wand up high and concentrated. The light at the wand’s tip grew brighter, clearly illuminating the forest greenery above them – and revealing no danger. A tension that Errol had not even realized was in the air quickly dissipated.

Errol was about to diminish the light from his wand when something caught his eye. Something appeared to be snagged on the end of one of the tree branches about ten feet above them.

“Hold that torch up,” he said to a man standing near him as he put away his wand and dagger.

The man did as he was bid, and by the light of his torch Errol began to climb the tree. Thankfully, there were some low-hanging branches and it took him no more than a minute or two to get up the tree and come back down. When his feet were once more on the ground, he held the item he’d pulled from the tree branch closer to the torch to get a better look at it. It appeared to be a small patch of white, woven material.

“Looks like a bit of cloth,” the mayor said. “I guess someone was climbing the tree recently and got their shirt or something snagged on a branch.”

“Maybe,” Errol said, staring at the material he’d retrieved.

While Errol studied the piece of cloth, Mayor Sterillo took charge, sending some to retrieve Tern’s body, others to warn that the Wishing Well was off-limits until further notice, and appointing several of those remaining to be guards for the next night. In a few minutes, the mayor and Errol were alone.

“I know you Magnuses,” the mayor said. “You’re thinking something. What is it?”

“I’m just worried, that’s all,” Errol said. “Again, this happened not too far from the troupe’s performances – maybe a ten-minute walk.”

“So…?”

“I’m worried that maybe this thing is watching the people there – homing in on those who are out by themselves.”

“So what, we tell people to also travel in pairs?”

“Probably not a bad idea.”

“All right,” said the mayor with a nod. “One other thing – why don’t they scream?”

“Excuse me?”

“Both Tern and that other boy. Neither one was killed too far from the performance grounds, and some of the entertainment goes on all night. If they’d shouted, someone would probably have heard them. So why didn’t they scream for help, or just plain scream when they were being killed?”

Errol reflected on it for a moment before answering. “I think when this thing started squeezing, they didn’t have any air to scream with. Plus, Tern had asthma.”

The mayor nodded in understanding, and the two of them walked away from the area in silence.

Chapter 13

After leaving the site of Tern’s death, Errol returned to the Station House and went back to bed. On the way home, he had decided that he would also stand guard later that night, but he’d need to be fresh if he was going to be of any use. That meant he had to get some rest.

He didn’t wake up until early afternoon. Nevertheless, he went through the first part of his regular routine (in terms of exercise and weapons practice), but decided that he would skip making any rounds that day. Instead, he spent the afternoon reviewing the reference manuals, hoping to find some allusion to the type of monster he was looking for.

Several hours later, he was ready to bang his head into the walls. He couldn’t find anything relating to a serpent-like creature that preferred to hunt near water (without living in it), crushed its victims (but didn’t devour them), and liked to climb trees.

As early evening approached, he got ready to leave. Before standing guard, he thought it would be best to have a conversation with Anru and Miabi about shutting down their performances. In essence, most of the people patronizing the troupe would normally be in bed shortly after dark as opposed to watching entertainment. If there were no shows, maybe there wouldn’t be any potential victims.

When Errol explained this to the troupe’s leaders a short time later in their tent, he was surprised to find them amenable to the concept. He had expected resistance, but Anru and Miabi ceded to his logic.

“This is as frightening for us as it is for you,” Anru said. “After tonight’s performances, we think it best that we pack up and leave.”

“We’re fearful of our own people becoming victims,” Miabi added.

It was a reasonable position and one that Errol really couldn’t argue with. And yet, as he left their tent, something bothered him about how easily they had acquiesced. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t really pay attention to his surrounding and ended up bumping into Tilbi, causing her to drop some boxes she was carrying.

“I’m sorry,” Errol apologized. “I should have been paying more attention. Let me help you with those.”

“Thanks,” Tilbi said as she began stacking her fallen boxes in Errol’s arms. “So, what did you have to talk about with my parents?”

“I think they’ll want to tell you themselves,” Errol replied. “Where were you going with these?”

“Berry’s tent.”

“Well, I can carry them for you if you like.”

“Thanks,” Tilbi said as they started walking. “By the way, have you had a chance to see any of the performances?”

“I’ve seen Berry telling fortunes. Some of the sideshow displays. I also saw a bit of Sharn’s act with the bow and arrow. She’s amazing.”

“Yes, she’s amazing,” said Tilbi, a slight amount of bitterness in her voice. “When she’s not out flirting, that is.”

Errol said nothing but smiled to himself. There was a bit of sibling rivalry here, with Tilbi obviously a mite jealous of her sister’s popularity with the opposite sex. She was probably too young to realize that Sharn’s flirtatiousness was part of an act to get the troupe’s customers to spend more money.

Without warning, Tilbi came to an abrupt halt. “Darn it!”

“What’s wrong?” Errol asked.

“There’s something I need to ask Mom and Dad. Can you take these boxes on to the tent for me?”

Errol simply nodded and started walking as Tilbi dashed away. It was starting to get dark; he did a mental coin flip and decided that he’d stand guard at the Wishing Well. Whatever this predator was, it seemed to have a predilection for killing near water, and between the well and the river, the two nearest sources of it would be under close watch.

Thinking deeply about the mysterious predator (and wishing his brother Tom were here to deal with it), Errol was almost at Berry’s tent when he heard someone call his name. Looking around, he saw Gale approaching him. Nearby stood almost the same clique of girls she had been with the last time he’d seen her.

“Are you okay?” she asked after closing the distance between them.

“Sure,” he replied. “Why?”

“Because I must have said your name at least three times before you heard me.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“The killings?”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, you really shouldn’t be out here tonight.”

“Margo’s dad and brothers are going to be out patrolling tonight. That means she and her mom will be home alone. She didn’t exactly say it, but I got the impression they’d like some company, so we stuck with our plans to come see the performers and stay overnight with them.”

“I can understand that.”

“And I also wanted to see you. Remember, I told you I’d be back tonight?”

Errol blinked a few times, struggling to remember that they had indeed agreed to spend some time together tonight. Had it really just been two days ago? It felt like weeks.

Errol hastily explained that he wouldn’t be able to spare her any attention.

“I expect to be on guard duty all night,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Gale said. “I understand.”

“Thanks. Well, I should get going. These boxes are starting to get heavy. Don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“We won’t.” She leaned across the boxes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then gave his shoulder a light squeeze. That’s when he noticed that she wasn’t wearing the bracelet he’d given her.

“I, uh, I must have left it at home,” Gale said after he asked about it.

Errol grunted in frustration. Leaving the bracelet was extremely foolish, but he kept that opinion to himself.

“I should get these boxes inside,” he said, backing towards the tent entrance.

“I’ll wear it next time,” Gale said as he disappeared inside. “I promise!”

Errol shook his head in exasperation at Gale’s actions. The very purpose of the bracelet was to protect the wearer from things like the monster roaming around out there. How could she forget it?

Trying to put Gale out of his mind, Errol glanced around the tent. It was set up the same as before – somewhat barren except for Berry’s cage sitting on the large table in the center. Since Tilbi hadn’t given him any instructions other than bringing the boxes here, he assumed any spot would probably do as far as setting them down. With that in mind, he bent over in preparation to put them on the ground next to the tent entrance.

“Not there,” said Berry, without looking up from his card game. “Under my table.”

Mentally, Errol shrugged. The location of the boxes didn’t matter to him, so he did as the little man bid. He was turning to go when the homunculus spoke to him again.

“So, who’s the girl?” Berry asked.

“Girl?”

“The one you were speaking with outside the tent.”

“Just a girl,” Errol said. He had no intention of discussing his personal life with Berry.

The little man turned to look at him. “A girl is never just a girl, no matter her age, appearance or the like. And especially when she’s in love.”

“What would you know about it? According to Miabi, you’ve lived your entire existence in this cage.”

“I know enough to realize that you have to squeeze life for all the joy you can get out of it, and you have to leap at love when it comes along like it’s all that’s left in the world.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do,” Berry said with a wink. “And teach it to your kids, because it’s useful advice. And may your son recognize its wisdom, even if you do not.” Then he went back to his card game. Errol left the tent slightly perplexed, shaking his head at the odd conversation.

*****

A few hours later, Errol found himself on guard duty, marveling at the foolhardiness – or the boldness – of people. Despite the warnings they’d been given, the largest crowd yet had shown up to see the performances. Apparently word had gotten around that the troupe would be moving on, so everyone wanted one last chance to see the entertainers.

But worse than the massive turnout for the troupe was the number of lovebirds traipsing through the area at night. No less than six couples tried to come to the Wishing Well, despite what had happened the night before. (In truth, Errol suspected that the tragedy of Tern’s death might be acting as a draw, since people have a tendency to be curious about such things.)

In each instance, the boy and girl involved were close to Errol’s own age. Cloaked in what they believed was the invincibility of youth, they weren’t particularly worried about getting savaged by some predator from the Badlands. Errol could only shake his head in disbelief each time he and the others standing guard with him sent the couples on their way.

Aside from such lovebirds, the only other people they occasionally saw were the small groups on patrol. Errol wasn’t sure how effective such patrols actually were, but he had no real argument against them. In fact, Mayor Sterillo, along with his son Chad, happened to be part of the latest one that happened by. Spying Errol, the mayor came over to speak.

“Seen anything?” the mayor asked.

“Nothing besides idiotic couples who apparently think their love will transcend death.”

The mayor chuckled at that. “No surprise there. People will always–”

Errol raised a hand, cutting the mayor off abruptly. Something was coming through the underbrush. He pulled out his dagger, and the rest of those present followed suit with their own weapons. Errol motioned with his hands, instructing everyone to spread out as the sounds of movement got closer.

Seconds seemed like hours as they waited, apprehension suddenly falling on them like a swarm of locusts. It was all Errol could do to keep everyone from going on the offensive when the source of their anxiety stepped into the open: another giggling, lovestruck couple. This time it was Jason Deaver and Jenny Stills – both teenage children of Stanchion farmers.

“Whoa,” said Jason, suddenly noting the armed group that he and Jenny had stepped into the midst of. Jenny, momentarily startled, began snickering again. They both seemed slightly addled, and from the smell about them, they had clearly been drinking something they shouldn’t have.

“What are you doing here?” Mayor Sterillo asked. “This place is off-limits.”

Jason lifted his hands palm-up, shrugging. “It’s the Kissing Well.” Jenny turned her face into his shoulder, giggling some more.

“Well, it’s not tonight,” the mayor said. “Go on. Get out of here.” The mayor turned to one of the men in his patrol group, saying, “Go with them. See that they get back okay.”

As their newly-appointed guard began ushering them away, Jenny laughingly said, “I guess all that’s left is Lover’s Leap.”

At her words, Errol felt something in his brain catch fire.

“Wait!” he shouted, stepping towards the departing couple, who turned back to face him. “What did you just say?” he asked Jenny.

“What she said, Mr. Warden,” replied Jason, answering for her and poking Errol in the chest with one hand while keeping his other arm around Jenny, “is that you guys really know how to ruin a party. With guards squatting on the Heart Tree
and
the Kissing Well, all that’s left is Lover’s Leap.”

Errol felt like he’d been hit with a thunderbolt. The clouds parted in his mind and the clear truth dawned on him with a fierce and undeniable light.

Oh, geez…

Errol took off running, as fast as he could, not sparing a word for anyone. The mayor only hesitated a second, then gave the order to follow and everyone in their little posse (for lack of a better term) took off after him.

Suddenly left alone, Jenny and Jason resumed their plans to spend time at the Kissing Well.