The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Page 6

  The Everwalk woman turned and ran up the stairs with every ounce of energy left in her body. Her hammer and armor were in the flat, and she prayed to the Ancestors her brother was there as well. To survive, she'd need all three. She knew if she faltered now, her life was forfeit.

  Mal leaned in, his intense blue eyes locked with Chelsea's as his lips brushed against hers. He parted his lips and let his tongue slip a bit, brushing against her lips. She tasted of the Oakdale vintage they'd drank. Sweet. Tangy.

  The front door of the apartment burst open, Umaryn barreling in behind it. Malwynn sat back abruptly, abandoning the soft kiss and sitting straight as a child in a church sermon, leaving Chelsea's hand barren. When he realized the intruder was his twin, he rolled his eyes.

  "What the hell Umaryn? Privacy please?" Mal stood up, ready to lay into his sister for her sudden intrusion into his moment of truth.

  She was breathless. "Mal, there's something coming up the stairs. Dark eyes like molten sunset. Full of anger." She could barely speak her lungs were weary. Her lungs burned.

  "Yeah no excuses Umaryn. Look, I know—"

  She cut him off, "Mal, there are three… things coming up the stairs. Things Mal. Not human. Get your gear, and get ready for a fight." Mal saw the raw fear in her face, and halted. She locked eyes that were identical to his and then stumbled deeper into the apartment to gather her armor and weapon. She hoped there was time enough to put them on.

  Mal turned to Chelsea, who had already gotten to her feet. "Get your weapon. Ready yourself." Mal walked to the door and closed it, throwing the heavy bolt once more. He didn't know what was coming, but he hoped the door would buy them time.

  "What's happening? Who is coming?" Chelsea asked as she trotted over to the table where she'd left her longsword in its sheath. It was beside their dirty dinner plates. She drew it with practiced ease and hefted it like a warrior would. Mal was strangely attracted to her in that moment.

  "I don't know what is happening, and from what my sister said, I feel that this is more of a what is coming."

  "Why would something come for you? Do you think it's dangerous?"

  "It's dangerous I'm sure. It scared Umaryn. And as for why something dangerous would come for us, I'd much rather answer that question after I've kissed you."

  "You're insufferable. One track mind." Chelsea spun her blade in a circle, cutting the air comfortably.

  Mal grinned as he retrieved a specially made belt from a pull out drawer in a desk. The belt had a dozen small pouches arranged along it, and each contained a different spell component. He wrapped the belt around his waist and quickly fastened the buckle. He grabbed his short sword from its home on a wall mount, and clipped it to the belt. He was ready for war.

  "Chelsea there are things my sister and I have learned to stay alive since our home was destroyed."

  "I know."

  "Some of these things are unsavory."

  "Like what?"

  "Forgive us." Mal looked to the door just as it was bashed against by a powerful force. The thick door shook in the frame against the heavy bolt as if a draft horse was trying to kick it in. The noise was so loud both nearly dropped what they were holding. Another series of smashes hit the door, cracking some of the wood.

  "What the fuck is doing that?" Chelsea asked aloud.

  "Something that wants in very, very badly." Mal had no more than finished his statement when the door burst in with a powerful explosion, sending large planks and small wooden shards everywhere throughout the abode. Chelsea took a catapulted piece of wood the size of a loaf of bread to the chest. She faltered back but held her weapon, and her stance.

  Moving through the doorway Mal at first saw only insubstantial shapes, ghosts of reality that were somehow able to push the pieces of broken door aside. They were hazy, seemingly made of brackish smoke, and stared at him with eyes that looked to be made of embers of hatred. They were unnatural. They didn't belong here. Instantly he was afraid for the life of his sister and Chelsea. He wasted no time.

  Mal immediately discarded casting a spell. These things did not seem to be alive, and nearly all of the spells he knew were only effective against the living. The other half of his spells only affected the dead, and he didn't want to risk losing the initiative on a gamble. He resorted to what he knew first, and possibly knew best, thanks to Ivar Brodull; brute force violence.

  "Rah!" Mal shrieked as he drew his short sword and stepped forward into a slash, putting all his momentum and torsion into it. The blade that his sister had crafted for him was masterful, and swung with precise balance, and power. It slid through the body of the first creature as if it wasn't even there, but left no mark or damage behind. Wordlessly the being snarled at Mal, and launched a swipe at his shoulder that tossed him aside like a ragdoll and made intense pain flare through his muscles and bones. Mal hit the kitchen table in midair and his body broke it apart. He landed hard on the floor on top of and covered in splinters and had his breath knocked out of his lungs. His pride took even more of a beating.

  Chelsea watched it all and stepped forward herself. An expert swordswoman by every account, she brought a powerful slash of her own downward from her shoulder, tearing the bright steel through the body of the thing that had just cast Mal aside. Just as his blade had failed in the effort, so too did hers. The two creatures in the back of the fray, just entering the apartment through the ruined entrance approached her. She retreated, unsure of what to do next.

  "Catch," Chelsea heard Umaryn say from the kitchen behind her. The young woman looked back to the sister of the man she'd come to see just as Umaryn tossed a dagger. The blade sailed through the air, hilt low, and Chelsea caught it in her offhand dextrously. As soon as the blade was in her fingers she felt better somehow. It tingled. The weapon was an equalizer, an advantage.

  As the second thing approached her closer Chelsea dropped low and spun near the floor, swinging the sword in a feint. The monster didn't hesitate in the least, unafraid of the large blade, and pushed forward, pouncing on her. The blonde's instincts acted, and she was able to bring up the point of the dagger as the wraith thing collapsed on her. Its weight became real and crushing, and she felt the new dagger bite deep into the void flesh of the attacker. A cool sensation poured out over her hand where hot blood should've come. She felt the spirit shudder in pain as it prepared to counterattack.

  "Blessed Spirit of this sword I beg to you to sharpen. I beg to you to grant us the gift of your full strength," Umaryn said quickly as she held Mal's sword. He struggled to sit up as his sister cast the chant. Umaryn finished her summoning of The Way and immediately moved forward. She wore her bright red armor, and wielded her weapon of choice, Chael's Hammer. Chelsea thought she was a vision of war.

  The first creature in line, the very same one that had just dismissed her brother received a skull smashing, downward blow from Umaryn. Her hammer had already been enchanted by The Way, and the heightened spirit of the weapon gave it enough power to affect the threatening monster. And affect it, the hammer did.

  As if the thing was a living, breathing human the hammer struck with the force of thunder, crashing into the head of the previously indestructible creature. The head of it distended, splitting open like a melon made of clay, spilling out a grey plasm that was neither real, nor unreal. The creature fell to the floor, dead or dying.

  The third horror capitalized on Umaryn's savage strike, and barreled into her full force. She took the tackle in the chest and was carried across the entire common room of the home until her back smashed into the wall, crumpling the white plaster, and causing all the simple paintings she'd bought to decorate the home to fall to the floor. The glass in the frames shattered with a crescendo, adding to the chaos. Umaryn felt something snap and give way in her back, sending flares across her vision, and nearly drowning her out of consciousness. As her brother before her, all the air left her lungs violently. She fell to the floor with the monster hovering over her, a moment away from a coup de g
race.

  "Get the fuck away from my sister," Mal said, his lungs refilled.

  The creature standing over his sister twisted and a wave of animosity came off of it, turning everyone's stomach. Mal didn't hesitate, and this time skewered his blade through the space between the eyes of the creature. Unlike his first strike, his blade bit deep, and parted the substance of the monster forcefully. He screamed in anger and wrenched on the hilt of the sword, twisting and yanking at it, causing irreparable damage to the semi-real head of the thing that was trying to kill his sister. When he yanked the blade out, his foe dissolved into vapor, leaving no evidence it had ever existed.

  On the floor too many paces away Chelsea was locked in a mortal struggle with her own enemy. The weight of the wraith held her firm against the floor on her back, and despite how powerfully she tried to squirm away, the insubstantial thing atop her managed to keep her down. She resorted to her only defense, and stabbed upward shallowly with the enchanted dagger. The blade couldn't sink in deep; the thing had her arm, but the score of pecks with the dagger's tip slowly started to take its toll. The small table that had served as the resting place for their empty wine glasses was knocked aside by their struggle, and the last bit of wine landed on the back of the monster. It gave the creature a halo of red, and made it look even more horrible.

  Mal dropped his blade to the floor point first, and it stuck, wobbling. He reached into a pouch at his waist without looking and took out a pinch of ash. It was the cremated remains of a rare and powerful undead known as a Soul Drinker. He'd bought the ash and a promise of secrecy in the Daris market for a rather large amount of money. The spell allowed him to cast a simple spell called Absorb Essence.

  Mal felt the tingle of the ash on his skin mix with the warm flow of The Way in his body. The spell was ready. "Die you piece of shit." Mal said as he reared back and punched the thing atop Chelsea in the back of the head. Mal's spell discharged the instant his flesh touched the form of the thing, releasing a burst of leeching, necrotic energy. The Way sucked the motivating essence of the horror like a vampire bat would draw blood, and channeled it into Mal's body, instantly repairing the bruises and strained muscles in his back and shoulder. The spell's energy was enough to explode the creature apart into nothingness, freeing the woman he was intensely attracted to. She looked up at him fearfully as Umaryn dispatched the final dying intruder with a crack from her hammer. A pallor that had invaded the room suddenly faded.

  Mal could see the fear in Chelsea's eyes. "Don't be afraid?"

  Chelsea backed up on the floor, putting space between her and Malwynn, "I know what you just did. You can wield the darkest arts. You're a… You're a necromancer." She spat the title like a mother's curse.

  Mal's face couldn't contain the sadness and shame. He knew this moment would come, but hadn't expected it so soon, and with someone he wanted to be close to. He looked to Umaryn for support before speaking. "When we were in Graben I discovered I could wield The Way. We were taken in and given support by a necromancer. I decided it was best to learn what I could to use it against the Amaranth Empire. I'm sorry."

  "You? How could you? There had to have been a better way." Chelsea's face wore as much shock as Mal's did guilt.

  "It was the only way. Chelsea, necromancy allows me to destroy undead just as easily as it would allow me to create them. I have taken the enemy's greatest weapon and turned it back on them. You see, even now I'm able to kill what our enemies would send against us with necromancy. Like any tool, it can be used for good, or evil. I choose good."

  Chelsea clearly couldn't make sense of it. As she mulled over what to do or what to say, Umaryn walked up beside her brother, clearly in pain. Chelsea's protective instincts took over. "We need to get you to an Apostle Umaryn. To the Cathedral."

  Umaryn shook her head. The act caused her visible pain. "No. The people who destroyed our home town and killed our families are in the Church. We can't risk it. I'll heal at my own pace."

  Chelsea looked from twin to twin, confused. "Wait. The Empire isn't responsible for the destruction of New Picknell? But Marcus said…?"

  "Marcus knows much, but not all," Umaryn said. "We tracked down the force that razed New Picknell to the rails heading north. In Graben, we were led to a Queen's necromancer named Omniri Decadra. Decadra had been paid by an Apostle here in Daris to destroy our village, and reclaim something that was hidden there that our parents had. He was paid specifically to kill our mother and father, and leave no evidence behind. Before he died he said the Apostle here in Daris had what he'd destroyed the town for. And now it would seem that the Apostle has caught on to our presence here in Daris."

  "That's insanity," Chelsea said from the floor where she still lay.

  Umaryn agreed, "Perhaps. But it's the truth. We've come here to find an Apostle who would pay a necromancer to kill our family. We cannot trust the Church until we ferret out the evil within it."

  "That does make some sense…" Chelsea said, thinking aloud.

  "What does?" Mal asked.

  "Those things that attacked us. I'm not entirely sure, but I'd bet on my grandmother's spirit they were Ancestor spirits. Summoned, manifested Ancestors. Ghosts of the dead. These were angry ones. Evil ones I'd wager. Only a very powerful Apostle can summon them."

  The twins looked at each other unhappily. It was never good to confirm your greatest enemy was a terrible threat.

  "How can you get after who did this? How do you find them?" Chelsea asked.

  Mal shrugged, "We haven't gotten that far. We'd asked Marcus to help us investigate the Church, but in his position, he can't afford it. We've tried a few simple trips through the Cathedral grounds, but we really need to get inside. We've no good ideas yet."

  "It seems to me that you need to find the connection between your parents and Church. If the Church wanted them dead from something that happened a long time ago, then there has to be some kind of tie. You need the old Church archives."

  "If only we could access them. We can't lie our way into the Cathedral. The body of Saint Kincaid prevents falsehoods," Mal said despondently.

  "Then you need to go with someone that has a legitimate reason to be there." Chelsea said it so matter of factly that the twins felt stupid.

  "You wouldn't happen to know someone who belongs in the archives, do you?" Umaryn asked.

  Chelsea nodded promptly as she got to her feet. She winced in pain. "My mother is a Rector in the archives. She isn't a powerful Apostle, but she's gained some rank over her life by being dedicated to the Church. I will speak with her. She'll want to attend to your wounds Umaryn, and I'll need to think of a good enough reason for you two to accompany her into the archives, but I think it can be done. I haven't seen her in awhile, and it looks like Umaryn and I could stand with a little mending magic. It's a good enough reason to go see her."

  Malwynn swooned, literally putting a hand over his heart, "You get more perfect every moment."

  "I don't know if I can see a necromancer Mal," she shot back immediately. There was jest in her tone.

  "No one is perfect. Forgive me." Mal pleaded with a wink.

  Chelsea shot him a judgmental glance before looking at Umaryn. The sister's face was stoic, and serious. She found no humor in the exchange, and was fighting against the pain of nearly being killed. Chelsea suddenly felt the turmoil of the twins, and tried to put herself in their shoes. It didn't take long to realize their plight.

  They had lost everything.

  "I'll do it."

  "Date me?"

  "I'll stab you. It'll hurt. Your sister gave me an enchanted dagger."

  "The enchantment won't last long. I'm not that powerful yet. You should stab him now. Before he gets any more uppity."

  Mal frowned as the two women laughed. He scampered away when Chelsea reached down to pick up the dagger.

  - Chapter Five -

  SECRETS BURIED DEEP

  Despite the pain and noise of it all, the city of Daris had remained ignor
ant of the attack on the twins and Chelsea. Granted only an hour had passed since the Ancestor spirits had broken into their apartment, but Mal and Umaryn were still personally offended that no one had come rushing to their aid. The city and its teeming masses had all retreated obliviously to the comfort of the homes, and the warmth of their beds.

  "It's a large city Mal," Chelsea said from the back of her horse. The three young adults rode together in the late hour of the evening. Mal was astride his Gvorn Bramwell, Umaryn astride Tinder. Chelsea rode her unit issued mount Bordo. The sounds of the horseshoes slapping steadily against the stone streets echoed and made them feel like they were being followed, and watched. Each rider had a hand on the hilt of a weapon.

  "Still, I'd imagine our door being taken apart by force would've at least roused the folks on the floor below us," Mal said.

  Umaryn remained out of the conversation. Her body had taken a pounding in the fight, and she was fighting to remain in her saddle. Her chest burned, her shoulder felt dislocated, and tiny flecks of invading light danced around the edge of her vision. She'd felt this way once when she'd tripped and hit her head when playing tag as a child. The feeling made her nauseous. She still wore her blood red artifact armor, and that comforted her. The tight fit of the plates kept her internal bits firmly in place, and relieved some of her discomfort. She wished her armor would pipe up and reveal what, if any powers in The Way it had. Umaryn hoped the armor could heal.

  "You're quiet sister," Mal said concerned.

  Umaryn looked at him and nodded grimly, "I don't feel well. My head is getting worse."

  Chelsea spoke, "Your brain is rattled, I'd wager. My mother once told me about it. Concussions they're called. Happens in war more than you'd realize. Your skull hasn't been split, but your brain inside feels as if it had. Funny vision, headaches, light feels like an arrow to the skull. Once we get to my mum's she'll get the Ancestors on it. You'll feel right as rain in no time." The trio passed a series of tall houses made of stone. Had they been sunk into the face of a mountain they would've been the gothic cousins to the homes in the High City of Graben. The similarity of the two cultures was striking.