The Children of Never: A War Priests of Andrak Saga (The War Priests of Andrak Saga Book 1) Read online

  His exposed toes kicked the chamber pot, spilling old piss over his foot. Einos snarled a curse and kept going as the sobbing intensified. A wall of light crept across the stone floor until it reached the huddled figure of a young child. Einos cocked his head as he tried to get a clear view of the face. Knees drawn with arms wrapped around them, the child, a girl by the length of her hair, had her face buried.

  “Child, why are you here? Who let you in?” he asked, his normally rough voice softened so as not to frighten her further.

  The sobbing increased as the girl lowered a fist and began pounding on the floor.

  Einos, concerned, set the candle on the nearest table and crouched. “There is no need for that. You are safe here. Tell me your name, child.”

  Curls fell over her shoulders as the young girl lifted her head and turned to face him. Einos tripped and fell backwards as he gazed upon what remained of her face. Both eyes were gone. Dried blood streaked down her cheeks.

  She reached a hand for him and cried, “Why did I have to die?”

  The girl screamed. The candle flickered, then went out, leaving the lord of Fent alone in the darkness. Einos scrambled back and managed to light the candle after several tries. When he cast the light into the corner, he found only stone. The girl, if she had ever been, was gone.

  “I know what I saw, Kastus,” Einos glared.

  Fent’s constable folded his arms and snaked a long finger up to scratch his chin. “Forgive me, Baron, but I do not seek to name you a liar. It is just …”

  Einos raised a weary hand. “I know, this whole affair sounds strange. I would doubt it myself had I not been there.”

  “But an apparition?” Kastus asked.

  “In my bedchamber. Kastus, I have never been one to give in to wild beliefs of the supernatural, but I know what I saw, and I tell you, it was a small girl missing her eyes.” He shuddered as her screams returned to haunt him.

  Kastus nodded thoughtfully. “If what you claim is true, and I will not be the fool to debate you further, we are left with a greater problem.”

  “That being?” Einos was reluctant to ask. He wasn’t sure he could handle more problems, given the current situation.

  The constable tapped his fingers on the polished wooden desk between them. “We’ve a killer in our midst.”

  Einos sighed, having already considered this. “Have your people scour the duchy. Every village and farm. The only way we are going to get to the bottom of this is by questioning everyone.”

  Kastus almost balked at the thought of speaking to the few thousand citizens belonging to Baron Einos. A daunting task on the best of days, an impossible one on any other. “Baron, we do not have the time for that and …”

  He shut his mouth in midsentence and looked away. Einos resisted the urge to throttle his second in command.

  “Speak, Kastus. You know how I feel about withholding information,” Einos ordered.

  Clearing his throat, Kastus began, “There have been reports of missing children over the last few days. Until now, I found no reason to take them seriously. Children often run away, intent on making a name for themselves for this reason or that. I recall doing so when I was a lad. It is a right of passage of sorts.”

  “Of sorts?” Einos questioned. His stomach twisted as his mind busily concocted links between murders and disappearances. Even beyond these suspicions, Fent was a land embroiled in dark mystery.

  Kastus shifted uncomfortably. “Einos, you have my vow that I will see this matter through.”

  “I’ve no doubt, but we must also look at preventing further incidences. We cannot afford to let this duchy suffer further loss,” the Baron cautioned.

  Fent was a small duchy, nowhere near as prominent as the merchant center of Mistwell, a city floating high above the land in the mountains far to the west, nor as populated as Thorn, where the various rulers met in council annually. Einos had only a few hundred men at arms and their retainers under his command. Many of those knights were selected to help defend the lands at Castle Andrak during the Burning Season when the Omegri sought to reclaim the world.

  If pressed, Einos figured he could arm another five hundred peasants. So far south of the Indolense Permital, he had no need to maintain a standing army. Arming the peasantry was a measure of last resort, perhaps enough to send his people into revolt. Three generations of his family had ruled Fent, each increasing the prosperity of the duchy, while developing strong ties with the people. A call to arms over his perceived inability to halt the sudden increase in deaths and missing persons would likely see him at the end of a short rope.

  “Kastus, how many children have been reported missing?” he asked.

  “Several. I am not sure. We did not take the reports seriously at first.”

  “Are we the only duchy being assailed?”

  Kastus had no answer. “In truth, I’ve not thought on it.”

  “Dispatch men to the nearest cities. I want to know if this is more widespread than just Fent,” Einos said.

  “You’re suggesting all of this is being conducted by more than one person?” Kastus asked. He felt uneasy with the direction the conversation was going.

  “That’s the problem,” Einos threw his hands out. “I have no idea.”

  “There is another option,” Kastus offered.

  Einos shook his head, knowing what the Constable meant. “No, I will not summon them unless there is no other choice. We have more than enough resources to handle this situation. I want patrols increased in every village. There is no point in attempting to deceive the population, since they are the ones reporting each incident. Bring them in, get them on our side, and we’ll drive out this killer.”

  “I’ll draft the orders at once.”

  “Oh, and Kastus, I want to meet with some of the families. Hearing what happened from their mouths might provide us with additional information,” Einos said.

  Kastus rose, collected his jacket, and left. There was much to be done, and if his suspicions were correct, not long before the next incident.

  The Baron of Fent watched his closest advisor and friend depart, waiting until the latch clicked before sinking back into his chair and curling his fingers around the small crystal glass half filled with amber liquor. Ghosts. Disappearances. Murder. How much worse can it get?

  The cemetery outside of the village of Fent contained generations of the duchy’s citizens. It was a place of comfort to remember those lost, just as much as a place of sadness for those unable to get over their grief. Caretakers meticulously groomed the lands, weeding between graves and ensuring no vandalism occurred, or if it did, was cleaned up before any family members returned for their next visit.

  So it was, the reopened grave was discovered shortly after sunrise. Fresh dirt was strewn carelessly over the surrounding area, mixed with the remnants of the cheap pine coffin. Both men, aged enough to have seen a fair share of life, stared down into the hole.

  “Grave robbers,” Lex murmured. “Ain’t seen this in a long while.”

  Bert rubbed the iron grey stubble covering his chin. “Nasty business, this. We should tell the Baron.”

  “Tell him what? That there’s an empty grave?” Lex shook his head. “Not much point in ruffling his ire without any proof of wrongdoing.”

  “There’s an empty grave. Of a freshly laid corpse, I might add. How much more proof do you need?” Bert all but shouted.

  Lex spit, “More than this. We got no signs of the body and got no proof of who done it.”

  Sighing, Bert removed his worn cap and wiped his forehead. “There’s been whispers of the Grey Wanderer moving about the countryside.”

  “Shhh, you damned fool! Do you want his attention?”

  Bert glanced around. The Grey Wanderer was not a name to be thrown lightly around. Legend said he’d stalked the lands since the beginning of time. None knew his purpose or which side of the battle between light and dark he landed on. All they knew was that his presence brought turm
oil, and he was an unwelcome visitor in the lands of men. If the Wanderer was responsible for digging up the grave, Bert didn’t want to know.

  The old man squinted at the broken tombstone. “Who do you suppose he was?”

  Lex looked up from the grave. “Who?”

  “This Brogon Lord. Must have been important for him to bring him back,” Bert answered. “He’s got a sword beneath his name. Makes him a knight of sorts, don’t it?”

  “Makes him someone else’s problem, Bert. We go to the Baron. I want no part of this and I ain’t coming back here until we get some security. There’s ill all about us.”

  For once, Bert was inclined to agree. One man was already called from the grave. What was to say another wouldn’t follow the next night? The caw of a lone crow in the branches of a white oak overlooking the cemetery chilled their flesh.

  THREE

  Fent

  Lizette paced across the open assembly hall of the castle. Her hands were red from constant wringing while she waited. She’d never been to Castle Fent before, much less been summoned by the Baron. The shock of having armed guards banging on her door was almost enough to drag her from the depression of losing her daughter. Mother’s grief threatened to render her useless, even as anger smoldered deep inside.

  The desire to find Tabith and hold her once more was strong, as was the rising propensity toward lashing out indiscriminately. Lizette knew she was broken. Knew and seemed unable to do anything about. She barely ate. Slept only when her body couldn’t keep going. She’d lost weight and hadn’t bathed since that fateful night. What remained of her life was a shattered ruin of the promise of what once was.

  Now she stood in the hall, surrounded by heraldry and banners representing generations of family leadership and past glories. Tapestries of rich fabrics collected from across the world decorated the high, arched walls. She scarcely glanced at suits of polished armor worn by the current Baron’s forbearers or the various statues and busts of important figures in Fent’s history situated around the room on alabaster stands.

  The click-clack of boots striking the stone floor announced the presence of the constable. Lizette watched Kastus approach. Once she might have been impressed with all of this. Those days were gone. Life had lost all luster. All that she was had been tied to her precious daughter and that had been taken from her. Lizette tried to believe there was hope that Tabith lived. That she was alone and waiting for people to rescue her. The thought suddenly proved too much, and all Lizette’s hope crashed into despair.

  “The Baron will see you now,” Kastus announced from halfway across the hall. His baritone voice rumbled like thunder, startling her.

  Lizette didn’t know whether to bow or nod. Confused, she mumbled a greeting and remained awkwardly in place.

  Kastus had witnessed similar more times than he remembered. Being in the presence of royalty for the first time normally proved awkward for most citizens. He gestured for her to follow. There was a routine about odds facts and random snippets of information concerning the history of Fent he was supposed to give visitors, but Kastus felt this particular meeting did not call for conventional protocol. He wisely decided silence was prudent.

  They found Baron Einos standing in front of his formal desk. A small fire cackled in the hearth to the right. Centered on the round pedestal in the middle of the room was a beaker filled with dark red wine and two goblets. Lizette took in the grandeur of the seat of power and felt something akin to awe. This one room held more wealth than her entire home.

  “I am Baron Einos. It is a pleasure to meet you, lady,” he began.

  This time, Lizette remembered her manners and curtsied. “Baron, the honor is mine, though I wish different circumstances allowed for our meeting.”

  He gestured to the chair nearest her. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss and I wish to hear from you what has happened to your family.”

  Lizette pushed down the creases of her dress and fumbled uncomfortably under his gaze. “I … I do not know where to begin.”

  Taking a seat across from her, Einos asked, “Perhaps you will allow me to begin. I awoke to a small girl crying in the corner of my bedchamber. When I reached for her, she turned and asked why she needed to die. Both of her eyes were missing.”

  She felt her throat constrict. Could it be? Tears brimming her eyes, Lizette asked, “What did she look like?”

  “Small. Her brown hair went down her back. She was dressed in a flowered dress,” he answered. The last detail felt oddly specific considering he’d barely glimpsed her before she vanished.

  The walls broke and Lizette began crying. She pushed her hands against her eyes and released nights of pent up emotion. Her body trembled as pain racked her. “Tabith …”

  The name came out as a wail.

  Einos was unsure how to proceed. He’d seldom been forced to provide comfort during times of extreme duress. To have one of his people sitting before him, crying uncontrollably, left him unsure what to do.

  “Where is she?” Lizette managed.

  Einos jerked back. “Gone. She disappeared before my very eyes.”

  Lizette lifted her head. Tears streaked her cheeks and her eyes were red. “What do you mean? How could a child disappear?”

  “I … I do not know,” Einos stammered. “One moment she was there and the next I was alone. Do you know her?”

  She nodded. Golden hair swished over the fabric of her dress. “She was my daughter. Is my daughter. I have not seen her for days. Are you saying that Tabith is a ghost? That she … she is dead?”

  Einos held up his hands to calm her. “I cannot say why I saw her or why she disappeared. I can only tell you there was a little girl.”

  “How many children have gone missing, Kastus?” Einos asked.

  “Seventeen,” came the reply.

  Einos winced. Seventeen innocent lives stolen, and perhaps ended. “How has this occurred without any of us knowing?”

  “Baron, there is more at work here than we thought. The caretakers of the cemetery arrived a short time ago. They have something to report,” Kastus informed.

  “Why am I only now being made aware of this?” the Baron demanded.

  Unused to his judgment being questioned, Kastus cleared his throat. “Your appointment with the lady Lizette took precedence.”

  “I am no lady,” she corrected, a hint of anger mixing with the pain in her voice.

  Einos gently asked, “Lizette, I would very much like to continue this conversation. Will you wait while I speak with the caretakers?”

  “I will wait, Baron,” her reply was terse. The overwhelming need to learn Tabith’s fate compelled her to remain. Einos’ confirmation, if what he said was true, of finding her ghost in the dark of night, intrigued Lizette as much as it horrified her.

  Two timeworn men entered, covered with stains and dirt and looking out of place among the surroundings of Assembly Hall of the Castle of Fent. Lizette felt her knees trembling as she waited to hear what they would tell the Baron.

  Einos wiped his brow and stared down into the pit of the empty grave. The rational part of his mind demanded a logical explanation. Wild animals, perhaps grave robbers trying to collect on an easy score before moving on. Einos wanted to believe there was no agent of the supernatural at work in his duchy. Signs were pointing to the contrary, yet the words refused to climb from his throat.

  Lizette, overcoming her initial fear, knelt beside the grave, running her fingers over a sliver of coffin. “Every child grows up with stories. Tales inspired to maintain a healthy fear, but I never imagined them to hold truth. Has no one seen him?”

  “Most likely not,” Kastus answered. “The Wanderer isn’t prone to allowing folk to spy on his business.”

  Einos cast a dubious look. The constable shrugged off. “Leastwise that’s what I’ve been told. It makes sense, if you ask me. Any man who raises the dead is not likely to walk easily among the living.”

  There was no argument for that and
neither Einos nor Lizette bothered. The caretakers leaned on the ends of their shovels, whispering. They had told their story and barring the return of the missing corpse, were ready to fill the hole in. Einos, while unconvinced of the shared versions of what might have happened, knew that filling the grave before villagers came by was the best thing for the duchy. Dealing with the parents of seventeen missing children was another matter. One he wasn’t at all prepared to deal with.

  As they each stood looking into the empty grave, Kastus blurted, “Do you suppose this Brogon Lord has anything to do with the missing children.”

  Lizette dropped the coffin sliver. “Absolutely. How long has this man been … removed?”

  Bert and Lex suddenly grew uncomfortable. Lex opened his mouth but Bert gave him a sharp elbow.

  Einos lost patience. “Enough of this. How long has Brogon Lord been missing?”

  Lex dropped his head. “Bout four days, Baron. We wasn’t sure what happened and didn’t want to cause a panic. Getting the facts first, o’course.”

  “You mean to tell me that anyone and everyone could have walked by and seen this for the past four days?” Einos was furious. “Four days! The entire countryside from Fent to Calad Reach might know by now! I should have you both flogged.”

  “Please, Baron. We wasn’t doing anything illegal or nothing. We just didn’t know how to handle a man risen from the grave,” Lex pleaded. “We just wanted to make sure is all.”

  Kastus moved between the Baron and the caretakers, unsure how Einos would react. He exhaled only after the Baron’s shoulders sagged.

  “Kastus, I want every parent with a missing child brought to me at once. Then find out about this Brogon Lord. Learn everything about him. Perhaps that will give us some clue as to what has happened,” Einos ordered.

  “I can help,” Lizette offered.

  Einos held up a hand. “You have helped enough, Lizette. Let us handle this.”

  Her fists were small but when placed on her hips, she presented a fierce figure. Even Einos flinched.