warred with righteous anger in her eyes.
“It… it was the vampire,” Priscinta said, stumbling over her words.
Deothen didn’t need the favors of his god to know the words were lies. This had been a good woman, he could tell, and such deceptions did not come naturally to her. He winced to hear her continue on.
“It bent Mardak’s mind to its will,” Priscinta said. “He attacked me.” She fought back a dry sob. Madness danced in her eyes. “I had to defend myself.”
Deothen pulled back his blade but held it at the ready. Priscinta dropped the cleaver and sagged. She looked a great deal older than she had that afternoon.
“Did you fear these dusty remains might have done the same to me?” Deothen whispered.
Priscinta shrugged and looked away. A single tear ran down her bruised and beaten face. “We live in a strange and unknowable world. Who can say what is possible?” Her gaze fell on her husband’s corpse. Deothen could see that Mardak’s eyes were frozen wide in surprise, although they were buried blind under a patina of the vampire’s dust.
“Please don’t tell my son,” Priscinta said as she fell back on her knees, tears streaming down her face. She pleaded madly with the knight. “Isn’t it bad enough he’s lost his father?”
Deothen felt ill.
Chapter
13
A single light burned in the front window of Kandler’s home as he approached it. No sounds came from within.
The justicar had left Burch and Sallah in the center of town to rally the townsfolk who had fled there. Burch had insisted on accompanying Kandler, but he had refused. “Esprл needs me,” he’d said to his old friend, “but Mardakine does too. Stand here for us both while I find her.”
The shifter had slapped Kandler on the back and wished him good speed as he dashed off toward his home.
The shutters on the front window of Kandler’s home swung loose and wide. The hook that normally kept them shut after dark had been torn from its mooring. Kandler stopped and listened. Still no sound, not even the sobbing of a girl.
Kandler crept up his front stairs and over to the window, which gaped as wide as a dragon’s maw. His sword before him, he poked his nose over the weathered, wooden sill. The lantern burning on the table in the center of the main room shed a flickering light on the scene. For a moment, the justicar saw nothing wrong. He blew out a long, silent sigh.
The sigh caught in his throat as the blood splashed across the room’s rear wall caught his eye. It looked like it had been flung there by a careless artist working with red paint.
Kandler grimaced and ducked back below the sill. He considered sneaking around the back, but there was no telling who was hurt or how much time she might have left. He drew in a deep breath, stood, and wound his way around to stand before the door. He launched himself and threw his shoulder right at the point he knew would shatter the latch, but the door did not resist. It smashed open and bounced off the wall behind it.
The justicar’s eyes darted about the room as he entered it. The stove was cold, as it always was at this time of night. Some of the furniture had been overturned. The table blocked his view of the bottom of the bloodstained wall. He barged past it, and he found a small body there, crumpled across a broken, toppled chair.
Kandler reached down with his free hand to pull back the girl’s dark, matted hair, although he already knew what he would find. Norra’s eyes were frozen wide with fear in a face still puffy from weeping most of the day. Blood trickled from her mouth and nose. It was too late for her.
A mixture of relief, terror, grief, and shame washed over Kandler. He was thrilled that the body hadn’t been Esprл’s, but that meant that his daughter was still out there somewhere. He mourned Norra, but the guilt over his relief colored that emotion.
The justicar lay Norra down on her back and tugged her eyes closed with the palm of his hand. He could do this much for her now at least. She might have given her life defending Esprл. He only hoped her sacrifice would not be in vain.
Kandler held his breath and listened again. A floorboard creaked low and soft in the back of the house. He recognized the noise. He heard it every time he stood next to the footlocker at the end of his bed.
His sword in hand, Kandler crept along the main room’s back wall until he reached the door to his chamber. The door itself was a thin slab of wooden planks held together by a pair of crossbeams. It cleared the top and bottom of the frame by a few irregular inches. A dim light shone under the door, but as Kandler watched it went out.
Kandler raised his sword and kicked in the door. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The shutters on the room’s sole window flapped open in the stiffening wind.
“Esprл?” Kandler whispered. As the words left his lips, he regretted them. If the girl popped out at him without warning, though, he feared he might kill her by reflex.
“It’s all right, sir,” a voice growled out of the darkness at him. A thin and wiry silhouette stepped partly from the shadows. “She’s safe.”
“Burch?” Kandler lowered his blade an inch. Something about this wasn’t right. Sir? Burch never called anyone sir, even knights. “Where is she?”
“I sent her to Norra’s house, sir.”
Kandler let loose a false sigh of relief. “Thank the Silver Flame,” Kandler said, his mind racing. Who was this creature that looked something like Burch, at least in the dimly lit room? Where was Esprл?
“Come on,” Kandler said. He lowered his blade as he spoke. He needed this creature alive. “Let’s go get her.”
The justicar turned and stepped out of the room. As he walked into the light in the main room of his house, he heard the shifter step up behind him, just as he’d hoped.
Kandler reached back and grabbed the shifter by the arm. He spied a long, silvery knife in the creature’s hand, and he knew that it had been meant for his heart, probably to be stabbed in from behind and up under his ribs.
Rolling forward, Kandler hurled the lighter creature over his shoulder and into the room, slamming him onto his back. The air whooshed from the creature’s lungs, and Kandler pounced on him before he could recover.
The justicar kicked the creature in the ribs, once, twice. He felt the bones there snap under his assault, and he smiled. This creature was behind Esprл’s disappearance, he was sure, and he wanted him to hurt for it. The third time Kandler kicked, though, the shifter grabbed his foot and twisted hard.
Kandler crashed to the ground. He landed on his sword arm but avoided slicing himself on his own blade, which went skittering from his hand. Frustrated at himself for letting his foe get the better of him, he lashed out with his free foot and booted the shifter in the nose.
The shifter let go of Kandler’s foot and scrambled for the door. The justicar knew that if the creature reached the darkness outside of the house he might never find him, and then Esprл might be lost to him forever. He wasn’t going to let that happen.
Kandler leaped to his feet and grabbed the nearest thing at hand-a frying pan hanging from a nail on the wall. He hurled it, and it caught the creature flat in the back.
The shifter tumbled down the front stairs of Kandler’s home and into the night. Kandler had hoped the creature would trip on the porch or, better yet, fall back into the house. He cursed his luck and rushed forward, his heart pounding in his ears. The justicar dashed out the door and leaped down atop the creature, trying to crush it beneath his bulk.
Kandler fell on the shifter with all his weight. He felt the satisfaction of a rib or three cracking under him as he landed squarely on the creature. The shifter let out a high-pitched yelp.
Kandler threw his arms under the shifter’s then reached up and laced his fingers behind the shifter’s head.
