limbs under it, the ghoul sprang at Jaeriko—and she could not even find the breath to scream. It stopped a hand's breadth from her nose as a sloppy red line tore across its throat in a flash of silver. Then its head slipped backward and its body tumbled to the side, hitting the open door and sending it swinging.
Maze caught the door with the still-bloody blade and glared at Jaeriko, panting. 'Next time I tell you to do something, you do it. You hear me?'
'I . . . I can't do this,' Jaeriko whispered, staring at the crumpled, headless corpse. A corpse that had been someone's son. That had just tried to kill her. That could still try to kill her for all she knew. Fear rose in her gullet, and it tasted like bile.
'You don't have a choice, Druid,' Maze said, her eyes glittering. 'And if you don't do what I say, you don't have a chance, either.'
'You don't understand,' Jaeriko said. 'You kill people all the time. I can't do this.' Maze sighed and motioned her through the door into the white tower.
'I do understand,' Maze said. 'More than you know. But I also know that they're already dead, and that if you don't help me put them down, you'll end up dead too. Besides, you gave your word, Jaeriko. Where are all your brave words about ending the war?'
'I didn't know it would be like this,' Jaeriko said, but Maze had already moved into the corridor, so her words were for her ears alone.
Swallowing her tongue and her misgivings, Jaeriko followed. She shut the heavy wood door, revealing a painting of broken hands wrapped in and clasping a red ribbon on its back—the symbol of Ilmater, god of mercy. It appeared the tower had once been a temple. The ground could hardly remain consecrated, though, if it held the clawing undead within its walls.
Putting the matter out of mind, Jaeriko turned to see Maze motioning for her to hurry at the end of the hallway, and she nearly tripped over the uneven floor catching up. The corridor was short, as could be expected for the first level of a tower, and was made of the same ghostly stone on the inside as out. The walls were bare, but there were clean shadows where pictures once hung. The most terrifying aspect of the former temple was its utter silence. Walking in that hallway was like walking in a tomb—the sounds of life as alien as its concept within those stone walls.
When the silence came to an end as Jaeriko joined Maze, she thought she would be pleased, but what she heard haunted her more than the absence of life before. Sobs echoed in the corridor, soft at first, but louder as the pair slinked toward their source. At the end of the passage was an open archway that led into a room, and from that room spilled light and sound—the first human sounds they'd heard outside of each other. As they crept closer Jaeriko could make out a kneeling figure—misshapen in which she assumed was armor—backlit in the light of the room. Words formed in the weeping.
'Ilmater forgive me.' The man's voice was deep and thick with tears. 'He suffers so that others may live. Please.' Jaeriko could see his hands clasped in imitation of Ilmater's on the tower door. 'I would gladly have given my body to this corruption, had you not prevented it.' The man's voice was bitter, almost accusatory in its grief. 'It was the only way. Were he older, he would pay her price willingly—the sacrifice of one for the good of many. You must see that.' His voice grew desperate. 'Why have you forsaken me?'
Horror and compassion warred within her. Without a doubt, this man was the seed from which atrocities were sewn. Much of the fallout of the Rotting War could be traced to him and him alone. And yet, this servant of Ilmater—a paladin, by his garb—had lost his god, his son, and his war. All that was left was for him to lose was his life. Jaeriko could sense Maze itching to relieve him of that burden, too, but the assassin managed to hold herself in check.
'He sounds like a man who's lost his faith,' Jaeriko said, fingering her locket.
'He sounds like a man who's lost his mind,' Maze said. 'Never empathize with the enemy. If you do, you'll never make your kill.'
'I don't want to make a kill,' Jaeriko said.
But Maze had already moved on, motioning for Jaeriko to move with her. Turning the corner, they went up a staircase and emerged in a narrow hall with a door some twenty paces distant, lit by a single torch. The door was old wood, and the hinges were dull with wear, but the lock gleamed bright brass in the flickering torchlight. Jaeriko was grateful that the general's pleas to his god could not be heard through the floor and the twisting stone of the staircase.
'Perfect,' Maze murmured. 'This is what we came for.'
'How do you know?' Jaeriko asked.
'What else does the general have worth locking up?' Maze padded up to the door and traced her fingers around the metal of the lock.
'Are you going to pick the lock?'
'Hells, no.' Maze looked up, irritated. 'I'm not a godsdamned thief. Why won't you listen to me?' The question was rhetorical, as the assassin turned, scowling, back to the mechanical device on the door.
'Then—'
'Just sit down and shut up.' Maze pulled a vial out of the pouch on her belt and uncorked it—pointing it away from her. The stopper of the vial had a long glasslike needle attached to its bottom, and a drip of clear liquid hung off its tip. It glistened iridescent in the torchlight, then fell to the floor, drilling deep into the white stone. With great care, Maze dipped the needle into the vial and applied the point to one side of the lock.
The door burst open, banging against the wall, and a broken, pale figure in armor stood backlit in the doorway.
'Damn it!' Maze shouted, splashing the contents of her vial up into her attacker's face. Steam and the acid stench of boiling flesh flooded the hallway, accompanied by the most hideous hissing and popping sounds. Moments later, the pale figure in the doorway crumpled to the ground, faceless. Maze nudged it with her foot. It was another one of the general's ghouls. What it was doing coming through that door was beyond Jaeriko— possibly standing guard?—but it confirmed her suspicions about the fallen temple.
'Well, that's one way to open a door,' Maze panted. With a mock bow, Maze motioned Jaeriko in.
It was obvious upon entering that the room was the source of the light that shone from the white tower. Alone among all the rooms in the tower, it was well lit. A red carpet graced the floor, pictures hung on every available section of wall, and candles burned on every horizontal surface, bathing the room in flickering light. An open window on the far side of the room let in a cool breeze and let out the room's startling radiance.
In the center of the room was a plain bed on a steel frame made up with white linen. Twisted in those sheets was as poor a boy as Jaeriko had ever laid eyes on. Boils peppered his fair skin like freckles, his fingers were blackened and bone-thin, and his skin glistened with sweat in the cool air. His eyes were closed and his lips were cracked and covered in dried blood. Moaning, the boy turned and thrashed in his covers, deep in the thrall of fevered dreams.
A hissing intake of breath alerted Jaeriko to another presence in the room. She snapped her head to the side and caught sight of a red-haired woman with frightened gray eyes holding a mallet inches from its gong.
'Maze!' Jaeriko cried.
Silver streaked through the air and blood blossomed in the woman's hand from the knife pinning it to the wall. The mallet fell to the carpeted floor without a sound. The woman opened her mouth to shriek but Maze's hand found its way into her mouth.
'Gods, Maze. You could have pinned the mallet!' Jaeriko rushed to Maze's side and examined the knife and the wound it had created. The woman's fingers were white with tension, and the dark red blood that pumped down it to drip on the floor spoke of serious injury to the limb. If it weren't treated quickly, the woman would lose a hand, and even then, she might gain a disease and lose more than that.
Maze rolled her eyes. 'Assassin, remember?'
Jaeriko stood and looked the red-haired woman in the eye. The woman's face was painted with fear.
'If Maze takes her hand out of your mouth, you have to promise me you won't scream,' Jaeriko said. The woman nodded, tears leaking from her eyes.
'Why in the Nine Hells would I do that?' Maze asked angrily, turning to face Jaeriko.
'Shh—just trust me on this one,' Jaeriko pleaded. 'We're partners, remember? Now, remove your hand.' Maze glared at her for a moment longer, then reluctantly pulled her hand from the woman's mouth and wiped it on her jerkin. The woman gasped with relief.
