Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) (4 page)

Konrad pointed at a rag doll shoved through
Godofredo's belt. "Is that for me? I've been a good boy."

Until Konrad mentioned the doll, Clovis had
not noticed it. A tiny smile touched his lips. He had not expected
Godofredo to make good on his promise from weeks ago.

"Yes, it's for you." Godofredo pulled the
doll from his belt and tossed it to Konrad, who clutched it to his
chest.

"Reynhard, you've come home." Konrad went to
his cot, rambling happily to the doll.

"I don't know how you talked me into getting
that for him," Godofredo spoke softly to Clovis. "Don't ask for any
more favors. You're all just meat pies."

"Afraid you might still be human?"

Godofredo flinched, made a fending off
gesture and crossed the room.

Clovis gestured at Tancred. "I can hear
Maruska in the halls. Sit with Konrad. You know how he gets."

"I'll do it. I handle him better." Willard
crossed the room and settled on the edge of Konrad's cot. He mussed
Konrad's hair gently, which earned him a guileless smile. Tapping
the doll, Willard asked, "Who's this?"

"Reynhard. He's come to save me."

Willard's eyes traced the swirls in the
wood-paneled wall, unable to handle the fact that Konrad had
decided the doll was his dead brother.

Maruska swept into the room, and all eyes
turned to her, either in terror or awe. Her high and shapely
breasts were cradled in a silk-lined halter of chainmail, while a
delicate belt of similar links encircled her generous hips, holding
in place a lush length of viridian silk covering her sex. Backswept
ivory horns restrained the heavy fall of her ebony hair. The burnt
orange hue of her skin and long, leathery tail only emphasized her
inhumanity. Rising from the base of her spine, her tail was lined
with flexible, eight inch spikes and tipped with a wickedly large
barb which glistened with venom. The tight apple curves of her bare
rump taunted and teased, daring to be touched.

She was accompanied by Sergei Wraithsbane, a
short, ill-favored mon with four rows of heavy frown lines etched
into his forehead. His brow ridge jutted over his small, deep set
eyes, and a thick nose humped and hooked above his thin sneering
lips.

The myn abandoned the prayer circle,
retreating to the farthest corners of the chamber and leaving
Clovis standing alone. Clovis stood firm, despite the tightening in
his gut. He could hear Konrad whimpering and Willard murmuring
reassurances.

"These three?" Sergei stood before the bound
myn, his words getting a nod from Maruska. "Do we wait on Ignacio?
Or shall I start?"

Maruska nodded to Godofredo, who directed
his soldiers to strip the three myn to the waist. "You may
start."

Konrad clutched his doll tighter, rocking
back and forth. "I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy."

Sergei ran his fingers over Thorben's chest.
"Very healthy, Maruska. A good choice." Then he grinned, displaying
his long fangs.

Thorben recoiled, only to have the hands of
the soldiers behind him come down hard on his shoulders. "God save
me. Please, God. My Father who art in Heaven...."

Sergei snagged Thorben's hair, twisted his
head around and sank his fangs into the duke's neck. Thorben
shrieked.

Konrad rocked faster, screaming out
"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm a goood boy! A goooood boy," at the top of his
lungs. Willard locked Konrad against his chest, pressing the mon's
face into his shoulder. "They're not going to hurt you, Konrad.
Listen to me. If you're quiet, they won't hurt you."

"I'm a good boy," Konrad whimpered
softly.

"I know."

Thorben's noises ceased as the intelligence
faded from his blue eyes. Sergei licked the wound closed,
straightened and turned to Maruska. "He was violent to the core.
Fought back. I had to rip him up more than I intended. At least
he's docile now."

Clovis took a chance, crossing the room to
kneel between Bonifaz and Detlef. "If you relax and don't fight
him, he'll only put the control command in."

"What are you doing, Clovis?" Maruska
demanded.

"Counseling them to cooperate."

"You've had plenty of time for that
already." Maruska crooked her finger at him. "Come here. You're
always irritating me."

Clovis obeyed.

Sergei wiped his mouth off and moved to
Bonifaz, who voluntarily offered his neck. Bonifaz grunted when
Sergei's fangs went in. Despite some suffering noises in the back
of his throat, Bonifaz did not scream.

Konrad peeked over Willard's shoulder when
Sergei did Detlef. "Were they bad?"

"They misbehaved. They'll be good now."

"They don't hurt good boys. I'm a good
boy."

"Yes, you are."

Ignacio arrived, followed by two assistant
carrying a large brazier of hot coals with a branding iron thrust
into the middle. The branding went smoothly with a minimum of
fuss.

Maruska watched the branding and then
returned her attention to Clovis. "You're still a troublemaker."
She waved her barb at him peevishly.

Clovis opened his shirt. "Sting me then, if
it pleases you."

Maruska glared for several moments, and then
flounced from the room with her entourage.

Clovis waved at his people. "Let us finish
our prayers. They will be sending up breakfast soon."

And so the faithful gathered and prayed.

* * * *

Small flurries of snow swirled and danced
along the streets of Eyndohen Town, piling high in the doorways of
empty houses and abandoned shops. Horst Abendroth drew his bearskin
cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, chilled by more than the
icy weather. He pulled at his makeshift leather armor, grinning
darkly at the thought of how the armor the heroes found in the
story books always fit. Horst had been a blacksmith before the fall
of Stolzingen: they had not been able to scavenge anything that
could fit his massive thews, barrel chest and stocky form. Instead
the females in their band of refugees had improvised by combining
pieces of several cuirasses to make a single cuirass for Horst,
binding it all together with cord.

The uneasy peace of the dead lay over the town where
their people had taken refuge for the winter. They had had no
choice of location – the women and children simply could not travel
any further in the deepening snow. Smoke rose from the bonfire that
blazed in the courtyard of Eyndohen's Liege-Lord's estate. Fearing
the necromancers who marched with the Minnorian forces, Horst had
made a point of beheading and burning the bodies they discovered in
various buildings. It was a thankless and ultimately futile task,
as they would never have the energy to find all of the dead. But
they could not help but try.

Horst wore a knapsack and carried an empty
burlap sack thrust through his belt so as not to interfere with his
weapons. His companion, Alons Von Geffen went likewise. They were
the only two – in a band of survivors, which had grown to slightly
more than fifty – with any training and experience in arms. The
other males had all been tradesmyn, shopkeepers and farmers.

"As I remember, the apothecary was on
Eisenstrasse. Get what Birthe wants for the children's sniffles
first."

Alons nodded, deferring – as always – to
Horst's wishes. That had puzzled Horst from the moment he first met
Alons, clearly a noblemon in his fine chain. Birthe, Horst's wife,
had wheedled the information from their priest, Franz, that Alons
was actually Lord Von Geffen; the only noble to escape the fall of
Nubyrlon. That made Alons’ humble manner all the more mystifying to
Horst. Alons gave out nothing about himself beyond the fact that
the White Lady had chosen him as her paladin and he had lost the
token of her favor, which troubled him to the bottom of his heart;
except that he refused to tell Horst just what that token had
been.

Lion, three hundred pounds of brindle
mastiff the size of a small donkey, walked beside Horst. The two
bitches, Daisy and Saucy, were back with the others at the estate.
Horst had stumbled upon them – or rather the mastiffs had stumbled
upon him – when a ghoul managed to sneak into their camp last
summer and steal one of the children. Horst and Alons had given
chase and overtaken the creature just as the dogs finished it off.
The dogs were as delighted to find them as they were to find the
dogs. They no longer needed to fear another incident like that
happening with the mastiffs in camp.

The journey to the apothecary took them
farther than they had previously explored in the dead town. Horst's
nerves itched, and he watched Lion closely for any sign that the
dog might have detected trouble. The apothecary stood half a block
from Meinhardtstrasse, the main street that ran north-south through
Eyndohen: north to the gates of the estate and south to the
highway.

They found the door hanging half off its
hinges. Horst exchanged glances with Alons, nodded and squeezed
through, stumbling as Lion tried to get inside at the same time.
The door cracked and fell. Snow lay heavy in the opening. Lion
bounded around sniffing everything. Other than the door, the
apothecary was eerily undamaged. Horst ignored the long tables in
the center and went around the counters to the shelves built into
the walls. Pulling Birthe's list from his pouch, Horst scanned it
before handing the list to Alons. They unshouldered their knapsacks
and began filling them.

Alons reached for the sack at his belt, and
Horst shook his head. "Nein, Alons. Let's see what other shops are
around."

As they emerged from the apothecary, Lion's
hackles rose and he darted two shops farther down Eisenstrasse,
stopping where a low stone wall encircled a tiny garden. Horst went
after him.

"Nein, Horst! Come back. That's the sound he
makes when he smells a ghoul."

Horst slowed, yet continued on. "Best I see
for myself."

He overtook Lion and knelt in the snow to
examine what the dog had found: a huge three-toed footprint.
"You're right, Alons: ghouls." Lion crouched beside him, growling
softly. He patted the dog and stroked his head. "Ja. My
sentiments."

Alons Von Geffen trotted over and knelt
beside him, his eyes narrowing. "It's fresh. We've likely got only
a few days before they find us."

Horst nodded. "My thoughts." He placed his
hand on the low stone wall at his left and rose to glance along the
rows of abandoned shops between them and Meinhardtstrasse. A flurry
of snow brushed against his strong features, causing him to shelter
his eyes with his hand as he studied the roof tops. Ghouls
possessed wings, but were not flyers; they could hover a few inches
to a few feet off the ground due to what Father Franz called
limited levitation: the wings gave them direction and balance.
"Come along. Let's get back."

A blue hand reached out of the snow beneath
Horst's feet and seized his leg. Only his stout leather leggings
prevented it from tearing him open. Lion lunged for the arm,
clamped down and worried it, rumbling far back in his throat. Horst
drew his sword, driving it into the snow between his feet. The hand
released him as ichorous blood spread through the white.

"Ambush! Run!"

"No place to run." Alons pointed at the
roofs, where the ghouls rose from behind clusters of chimneys and
the attic windows they crawled out of. "They're all around us."

The ghouls moved with the lethargy of the
newly wakened. A few fluttered to the snow at either ends of the
block. Most rubbed their eyes and blinked indecisively.

"Lion, heel!" Horst grasped Lion's collar.
"Alons, the group at Meinhardtstrasse is smaller. Come on."

Jogging toward the corner, Horst heard Alons
shout, "Ware!"

Lion jerked from Horst's grip, lunging at a
ghoul, which had gotten bolder. Ghoul blood dripped from Alons'
sword: he had slashed the creature deeply in three places. True to
his training, Lion ripped the ghoul's belly open, dropping a
mouthful of intestines in the snow. Horst swung two-handed, biting
into the ghoul's side. The creature went down shrieking.

An equine cry of rage turned their attention
to the northwest corner of Meinhardtstrasse. Two horses charged
between the demons and galloped toward them. Horst blinked and
corrected himself; it was a blue brindle wynderjyn – the
unicorn-horse hybrids ridden by the Sharani paladins of the White
Lady – and a black unicorn with a glittering silver mane: creatures
he had only seen in drawings.

A fine shield hung from the saddle of the
wynderjyn. Alons snatched it off and slid his arm through the
straps before bounding into the saddle with a glad cry. "Abby, I
knew you'd find me. I knew you were still alive."

"Your missing token? Abby?"

"Ja. My Abby. Mount. They'll get us out of
here."

The unicorn prodded Horst and he climbed
onto it, settling his feet in the stirrups.

"Let's get out of here!" Alons galloped
toward a break between two demons with Horst at his heels and Lion
running all out beside them.

Their sudden movement stirred the ghouls
from the remnants of their initial lethargy. The creatures lurched
from the roofs and hurled themselves from their attic nests,
hooting and ululating at the sight of fleeing prey.

At the corner of Meinhardtstrasse, three
clusters of demons hooted and screeched: a cluster of five
yellow-manes – the large older males – in the center, four
mane-less adolescent males on the right hand corner and three
females on the left. The latter groups were allowed to scavenge
from what remained after the yellow-manes had eaten their fill of
whatever they had pulled down.

Horst searched for reins and found none. He
flicked a glance at Alons as the unicorn's stride lengthened. "No
reins!"

"He knows what he's doing."

One moment they were charging toward the
knot of yellow-manes, and the next, they had swerved sharply into
the three females. Alons, riding to Horst's left, cut down the
nearest one. Their swerve confused the yellow-manes, buying Alons
and Horst a few seconds to dash past and make the turn onto
Meinhardtstrasse. The yellow-manes leaped after them, swiftly
reducing the equines' lead. Abby struggled to keep pace with the
unicorn, and Horst could sense his mount holding back, reluctant to
outdistance her. Running beside them, Lion's eyes were wide and his
tongue flapped like a flag beside his jowls.