The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Page 17

  But here you are, and that is my story. The big question now, is what do we do next?

  - Chapter Thirteen -

  A PLAN, SORT OF

  "You never told me that story," Samrale said from the corner of the room. Everyone was startled. He hadn't been there a minute ago. Weston was the only one who seemed unaffected by the aged wizard's sudden reveal. "Why didn't you tell me that story Weston?"

  Weston sighed and shrugged wistfully. "I didn't think it would help my plea for a job and a place to live if I told you I had angered an influential Apostle, and potentially the Church as well. I felt it best to disappear here and the less I said meant fewer questions. My intent was never to mislead Samrale. I apologize."

  The aged teacher was sitting in one of the student's chairs, similar to Weston, but where the gesture made Weston seem sad, it made Samrale seem more ordinary and accessible. "I've no qualms with keeping secrets Weston, you should know that by now. We all carry burdens in the darkness of our souls." Samrale's eyes stole a glance at Mal.

  Mal turned to his uncle, his curiosity sparked. "You learned a necromancy spell?" He asked his uncle softly, probing for a telling response.

  Weston puffed his cheeks with a strong exhalation. "I did, and I'm not ashamed of the fact either. I'm a very curious cat Malwynn. I like to dabble in many different arts. The Way is strong in our family. Strong in your mother's family as well. With your mother's blood, I'm sure it practically beats in your heart."

  "I'm an Artificer," Umaryn said proudly, confirming her uncle's statement.

  "That's wonderful Umaryn. I've never been able to reach out the Spirits of the Created. I'd love to ask you more about your gift. What of you Malwynn? Has The Way become a part of your life?" Weston looked hopeful.

  His eyes fixed to the floor, Mal spoke with a touch of fear in his, but he hoped for the best. "I'm a necromancer."

  James took a step back so fast he nearly fell over a chair. No one else in the room flinched. The Apostle looked around at each other person's face to gauge their level of revulsion, but when no one else seemed put out by the presence of a death mage in the room, he settled into a merely uncomfortable stiffness.

  "I sensed it on you when you arrived," Samrale said, clearly approving of Mal's honesty.

  Weston had a strange smile. "Now that's fascinating. Might I ask how such knowledge worked its way into that head of yours?"

  Mal looked up, shame on his face. "When we pursued the people who destroyed New Picknell, they led us to Graben. We hunted necromancers there, soldiers, anyone who we thought could lead us to the people who destroyed our village. Eventually we killed someone powerful, a tax collector, and that got us the attention of a Queen's Necromancer. Dram Sorber was his name. Dram saw the necromantic potential in me, and in a city filled with the undead, I thought it wise to learn how best to destroy them or control them."

  "Realizing fully that you'd be an outcast everywhere else in the world you went?" Weston asked.

  "At the time we weren’t really thinking that we'd survive to get anywhere else in the world. We were fully prepared to die in Graben during our search for vengeance. I thought no one would ever have to truly suffer me I suppose."

  "And yet you survived Graben. And now you're here. A necromancer. How many spells do you know?"

  Mal had to think. "I can cast seven necromancy spells. A few more neomancy spells. I'm working on another spell, more powerful than anything I've cast thus far, but I've yet to master it in the least."

  Weston and Samrale had equally shocked expressions. "Seven necromancy spells?" Weston asked incredulously.

  Mal looked at his sister and Chelsea like he was in trouble. "Yeah. Is that a lot?"

  Weston looked to Umaryn. "How many spells do you know?"

  Umaryn had to think the same as her brother. "Nine Artificer spells. I've never been able to do anything at all with Neomancy. Like him I'm working on new things, but without my texts it'll be hard. He has some books we brought from Graben. Gifts from our patron."

  "That's astounding," Samrale said, impressed. "If you wouldn't mind us looking at those texts, you might be able to spread some very valuable knowledge to the rest of Elmoryn."

  "Those are very high numbers for spells you two, especially considering your age, and the short amount of time you've been studying. And you've continued to learn using only texts? Color me impressed," Weston said. "How do you hide your death magic Malwynn? Certainly you must use your spells to defend yourself?"

  Mal shook his head. "I don't cast spells unless I have to, and when I do, I rarely resort to necromancy unless there are undead about, and we haven't seen any to speak of since we left The Empire. I've learned how to use this sword," he thumbed the hilt of his blade, "very well."

  The uncle looked proud. "So very much like the way we were."

  "All this is grand Uncle Weston, but we need to make a plan for what to do now. Where do we go from here? It sounds like our parents were killed because of what was inside that tunnel at the base of the mine in New Falun. We need to get to that mine and dig out that tunnel, or find out what item our parents made it out with that made Alisanne want to kill them."

  "Well kids, it seems obvious to me," Weston said.

  "What's obvious?" Chelsea asked.

  "After all these years and with what you told me, it's clear as day to me. You see, when the damned spirits Alisanne called for caused the tunnel to collapse there was no exit. Maybe I haven't been clear on that, but tons of stone fell. There was no way they could dig out from there, unless they found one of two things."

  "Something that would dig them out of the hole from the inside?" Umaryn posed.

  "Yes, that, or another exit far away from the bottom of the mine. Or far enough away that they were able to make their escape without Alisanne finding their trail for years. My guess is that the item Alisanne wanted so desperately to retrieve is a key, or perhaps a map."

  "It's small. Small enough to fit in a box," James said quietly.

  "Pardon me, but how would you know that?" Weston asked, his eyes narrowed, his brows arched. He looked almost… angry.

  James looked to the twins. "I'm sorry, you've been so kind to me. You saved my life on the train, the least I can do is repay that favor with the truth. I work for Alisanne. I'm her aide. She sent me here to keep watch on you. Report back to her about your activities here."

  Mal nodded. "We've known since the train James."

  "But how?" James asked surprised. "I've done all I could to remain separated from her since I left the Cathedral. I tried so hard to be…" He stopped and sighed. "This is sad. I'm sorry. This wasn't the service to the people I ever wanted. I'm not cut out for espionage am I?"

  Chelsea walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder. He shrank from her touch initially. "I recognized you. My mother is an Apostle at the Cathedral, same as you. I've seen you on the grounds with Alisanne. It didn't take me long to recognize you on the train after the bandits attacked."

  "But why keep me so close? Why not mislead me and send me back to her with false leads?"

  "Keep your enemies close, as the wise say," Mal offered. "Besides, we're the good guys in this and we know it, arrogant as that may sound. I wagered you a good man, unlike her, and when you were presented the truth of it all, and saw Alisanne's treachery for what it was you'd be swayed. Someone owes me an ale."

  "You know the attack on the train was intentional? That they were there to kill us, regardless of who got in their way. Had you died James, it wouldn't have given her a single bad night's sleep," Umaryn said with contempt in her voice.

  "I didn’t… I hadn't…" James looked defeated. Betrayed.

  Mal stepped in. "She doesn't care about anything but herself, and whatever is in that hole that she thinks will destroy the Church. She buried her sister alive James and hunted one of her closest friends like a dog until she left him for dead too. Near two hundred souls met an end with no Apostle in New Picknell, and she cut a deal for
the necromancer to take their bodies as well. She sold them all into eternal, horrible servitude in The Empire. Had we not survived, she would've gotten away with everything. She still is. Now of course James, you can take every bit of what has been said here tonight and go right back to her with it. But you know what? It doesn't change anything. She might know a bit more but she's still going to track us down and try to kill us again. My hope is that you'll realize who is in the right here, and help us."

  James was speechless, and the room gave him a moment to think. His entire life had been turned on its head.

  Weston probed after a fashion. "You said it fits in a box? So then it's small, perhaps a key, yes?"

  James snapped back to reality. "Yes, it must be something small. And light. She has said to me that it contains a key, but I don't know if she is speaking in metaphors. She protects it by leaving the box in plain view. The box is simple and wooden, no more valuable than a bowl you'd wash your face in. No one would think to look inside it, sans for the simple lock she has on the box."

  "A key sounds very feasible then," Samrale added.

  "I wonder but to what that key belongs?" Weston asked. "And how pray tell she found out that they survived? If we were to head to the mine and see, perhaps search the surrounding countryside?"

  "That could take weeks, months perhaps. Mountain country you said right? Never mind the threat of Shadow Wolves or worse. There must be a way for us to track her movements in the weeks and months after she tried to kill you like we did using the pay records. James, have you any idea?"

  James thought about it for a minute, and then his eyes brightened with a thought. "The archive in the Cathedral won't have anything truly important. If she is as she seems to be, any record that would give away anything that important she's destroyed or hidden for certain. I'm shocked you found anything in the archives frankly. It's either a deliberate planting of hers, or a very significant oversight. I'm very sure though that she has kept some kind of personal record that would be of use. She's too meticulous to not have kept some form of note. Perhaps a journal, or a map?"

  "How would we get it?" Chelsea asked.

  "I could try and steal it for you," James said easily. "It's either in her office or in her personal quarters at the Cathedral."

  Mal seemed surprised. "You'd help us?"

  James nodded like it was the obvious choice. "The only thing about this that leaves a foul taste in my mouth is that you're a necromancer Mal. I've known you for only a few hours and in those hours you have been a man of character and quality. Time will tell if I'm wrong, but as of now, of course I'll help you. I owe you my life. Alisanne's reckless behavior in years past, now that I know of it, it sickens me. And the attack on the train coming here… I thought she cared about me at the very least. I've given her years of my service to better the Church, and to know that all along her drive was to murder without question, and without ramification. I've done things I thought were for the better of the faith that I now know were for her betterment. I think we should bring this to the Church. Let the higher ranking Apostles sort her out. Keep the blood off our hands."

  "Who do you think she's working for James? Umaryn asked. "She got the idea somewhere that whatever our parents found at the bottom of that mine was bad for the Church, and I surmise that person takes care of those that take care of their wishes. We might stir up far more than we can deal with by going over her head. Better to take care of her ourselves and arouse less interest."

  "I hadn't thought of that," James said. "I guess the vengeance business isn't my strong suit either."

  "That's not a bad thing James," Mal said reassuringly.

  "No, it's not," Weston said. "I will accompany you, assuming of course House Kulare can spare me." Weston turned to Samrale.

  The old man licked his lips and thought about it. "You understand, all of you understand the depths that this might bring you to?" He asked the entire group. They all nodded or stayed still. "I don't think you do. I do not know this Alisanne, nor do I claim to understand her motives, but if she felt this thing, this secret was worth committing such atrocities over, then you must understand the scope of the thing. If it is as she fears, then revealing it to the public could threaten the Church, and as Umaryn said, there are those that would take that threat very personally. Even in removing her from the equation, you might find yourselves facing a far more powerful adversary. Then you might become the hunted, and with the entire Church on your heels."

  Silence.

  "Have you considered she's right? That whatever she's trying to hide might be more dangerous to the world? No? I suspect you are in the right, as you said Malwynn."

  "There's one huge problem," James blurted.

  The twins turned to him as Chelsea asked, "What's that?"

  James looked around as if his message would be his undoing. "Saint Kincaid's body in repose at the Cathedral prevents falsehoods. So long as we meet on hallowed grounds there, I cannot lie to her or mislead her."

  Weston pursued it, "Will she meet off the Cathedral grounds?"

  "I've only seen her talk of these things out of her office when she's angry, or when she thinks aloud after discovering something. She's very particular about how and when she speaks."

  The room went quiet again. Murmurs and sighs filled the silence and the feeling of frustration hung in the air. Samrale stood, and shuffled over to where the twins were. "The Ancestors are all around us. Even here, in this edifice of sorcery, there are spirits by the hundred. They flock to the living because life is what they seek, life is what they wish to prolong, and finding solace in assisting the living gives them hope in finding their own eternal rest. If there is any justice in this world, in our world, and the world beyond when you reach this woman Alisanne, a solution will present itself. Perhaps when you reach Daris you should investigate New Falun. Find what has happened to it since the collapse of the tunnel. Perhaps everything in that mine has been revealed, making so much of this needless. Have the courage to continue on. I hesitate to say avenge your family, but I will tell you I have met others on less true quests, and I think in her death, you will find absolution. James, I would suggest to you that you prepare your Matron a sending to mislead her. From here, Saint Kincaid's reach shall fail, and you may say what you wish."

  "Thank you," Umaryn said.

  "Thank you," Malwynn said.

  "Weston take whatever time is necessary. This is something you've buried deep, and now that it has surfaced, you'll be no use to us until it is resolved."

  "Yes sir. Thank you Mr. Overfist. I owe you another debt of gratitude," Weston said with a smile.

  "You're a teacher Weston. Every day you spend inside a classroom is a day the world owes you a debt of gratitude," Samrale said with his own smile. "The rest of you may stay in a dormitory while you're here if you wish. The school is quite safe, and is warded against scrying with The Way. We serve dinner in an hour. I'll have it delivered here for you all. I ask you to remain out of sight. House Kulare cannot afford a confrontation with the Church, especially as Varrland moves even closer to war with The Empire."

  As Samrale started towards the door Chelsea stood up straight, alarmed. "What do you mean, Varrland moves closer to war? Has something happened in the past few days?"

  "Varrland sent a force north to the border to answer the massing of Empire dead. I believe they departed this morning. This is ill tidings of a war Elmoryn cannot afford for certain."

  "How big a force?" Chelsea asked, worried. Mal couldn't help but notice Umaryn's body tense up at the mention of a unit heading north.

  "One regiment I believe."

  "Just one? What regiment?" Her fists were whitened.

  "The Darisian Second according to my sources. Your unit, judging by the uniform you wear," Samrale said as he pointed a finger at the unit emblem on her shoulder.

  Chelsea turned and looked to the twins. "I need to leave immediately. I need to get back to Daris and head north to rejoin my unit. I should b
e on the next train out. The Knight Major needs me, I'm his squire."

  Samrale interrupted her, "You'll eat dinner, and you'll conspire to overthrow the world with your friends Chelsea. The next train out isn't until the morning, and there's no sense in riding at night in the rain just to watch the train ride by you in the morning. Your Knight Major can wait."

  Chelsea looked pained at the advice, but deflated and accepted it.

  Samrale waited for her to add to the conversation, but she had nothing to trump the old man.

  "Good girl."

  Dinner was good.

  The conversation over that dinner and in the time after was spirited. Watching over the quibbling youth was the older Weston. He observed and gauged his newfound relations and cohorts as a teacher would. Habit could be hard to shake. He rated their communication skills, leadership ability, and level of creativity.

  He decided Mal was the most intelligent person in the room, and was often the one who seemed to think furthest outside the box. He also had the worst temper, and was the most likely to do something that would get himself killed.

  Umaryn was very bright as well, but as a farmer might be. Practical applied experience, and a pragmatic approach to everything. She was logical, but had most of the temper her brother had.

  Chelsea was loyal to a fault, and loved Mal. She was angry at him for something, a fact or incident that should've been obvious, but wasn’t. She was a highly skilled warrior, and wanted to put her skills to use quickly so she could return to her unit obligation. Weston wondered if she understood just how important the mission they were on could be.

  James was a bit older than the others, and had spent most of his life entrenched in the Church. He was strangely socialized as a result, kind but naive, though brave, and very selfless. He was hurt emotionally, his facial expressions, and the amount of time he spent staring out the stained glass windows looking for answers to the questions his heart kept asking him said as much.