Heretic Part Two Chapter 9

Heretic

Part Two

Chapter 9

A shudder swam through Isaand’s mind, sending chills through his body under the cloak he was wrapped in. Do not… truth… sacrifice… The voice was familiar, but through the haze of wine and sleep Isaand couldn’t place it. He felt his shoulders tense, his mind struggling as though through a deep mire to reach his thoughts, but exhaustion won the battle, and he drifted back down into oblivion.

He woke later, in warm darkness. The smell of smoke hung in the air. He rolled sluggishly, stretching his arms, trying to remember what he had been dreaming about. It had felt important, he could remember that much. But no, dreams always felt significant to the dreamer, even if they were filled with nothing but nonsense.

The floor of the cave was soft sand, covered in a thick blanket to cushion it, and he’d slept beneath this thick cloak with his arms beneath his head. They tingled and ached as he drew them out now, numbed, but that was nothing he hadn’t felt many a time before. The cave was surprisingly comfortable, though the dull spike in his head was making itself felt now, a remnant of the wine he’d drunk well past midnight. Fortunately, he felt it fading away as soon as he noticed it. Szet’s blessings were upon him, and they dealt with hangover as easily as they did with violent wounds, for which he was duly grateful. When he threw off his cloak and struggled to a seated position, he was left with only the slight pangs of the tail-end of a headache.

The cave was empty. Sunlight streamed in from outside the hide covering the exit, and from beyond it he could hear soft muffled voices. Most like, that was all his dream had been, ascribing some urgency to the conversation of his fellow heretics. He wobbled a bit as he got to his feet, but the sun drove him back when he first tried to push the hide aside. It’s past dawn, nearly noon, he realized. I’ve slept far too long. Ylla is back at the village. Panic gripped him for a moment, until he remembered he’d left Vehx with her, ordering him to keep her safe.

Outside, he found the island much changed by the light of day. In the moonlight it had seemed remote and mysterious, mystical in it’s defiance of the lake’s uniform appearance. Now it just looked ugly, a rough circle of sandy soil covered by sparse grass with a pool of murky water in its middle. The tall and magnificent pillars that rose all around them drew the eye away, as did the schools of fish and eels swimming round the island in clear view beneath the water. It was small wonder the lake folk shunned the place.

Ratha sat at the edge of the pool, soaking her feet in the water. She’d left her vest off, leaving her smooth rounded shoulders bare. She turned as he stumbled out, flashing a tired smile that hinted that she had also perhaps had too much to drink the night before. She raised her wineskin in salute and took a quick draw from it. A pile of white clothing was beside her on the shore.

“It’s much too late,” Isaand said, coming closer. “I’d intended to be back before dawn. I must have drifted off…”

“So you said, many times last night.” Ratha got to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothing, and shrugged in an apologetic manner. “I’m afraid we may have tricked you a tiny bit, Isaand.”

“A trick?” His brain didn’t seem to be working as swiftly as it should.

“You couldn’t have known, but today is a special day back at Ulm-kanet. A sacrifice is to be carried out at noon, to Ulm-etha, as is done once a year under normal circumstances, though lately they’ve been far more regular. The older folks blame Gauadan, saying he’s much too young and inexperienced to carry out the rites properly. Others believe Ulm-etha has become more discerning, requiring sacrifices who are younger than the usual crop, more full of life. Either way, the sacrifices haven’t been taking, and Ulm-etha himself isn’t saying why. We have little reason to suspect anything will change this time.

So let’s imagine that you were there, in the village during the sacred sacrifice, at the festival that is typically forbidden to outsiders, and something were to go wrong. How do you think the villagers, and the clerics, would react?”

“You’re saying they’d blame me,” Isaand said.

“Everyone wants a scapegoat, when they can’t blame the gods. An outsider is the logical place to look. Most like, nothing would happen, but it cannot hurt to be careful. I suggested to Hahmn it might be prudent to keep you out of sight until the danger had passed, and he concurred. Besides, you seemed like you needed a good night’s rest.”

“You could have told me,” Isaand hissed. Ratha stepped back at the venom in his voice, shocked, a hand going to the wooden medallion at her breast.

“Would you have listened?” she shot back, tone icy. When he didn’t answer she rolled her eyes and loosed all her tension in a laugh. “Oh, Isaand, you are not so different from others as you think. Stubbornness must have been a curse set upon us by the gods. It is truly easier to corral a herd of goats than to lead them to sweet water.”

“A goat cannot comprehend your words; I can. All you needed do was explain.”

“I apologize, as will Hahmn. We are new to all this skulking and intrigue, you know. Perhaps we went about it the wrong way. Here, you must have a thirst by now. We have a bit of wine left.” She shook the wineskin before his face, and he took it, tenderly so he would not seem overly upset. The wine was sour, the last dregs of last night’s revels, but it served to loosen his throat.

“What of Ylla? I am not the only outsider. The child I brought with me-”

“Is just a child, and a sweet and innocent one from what I saw. No one will look to her for trouble, I am sure. And Tokaa is a good man, one blessed with more sons than daughters. He will dote on her, and keep her out trouble. But if you are concerned, we can be away and perhaps reach the island by noon.”

“I… no, what you did makes sense. I’ve made a habit of avoiding towns in the midst of festivities, and clerics in general. I’d have begged off intentionally, I suppose, if I’d known. I just don’t… like being lied to.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Ratha said.

The silence stretched on awkwardly, and Isaand hated to see Ratha contrite, so he gestured to the pile of clothes and broached a question. “Where is Hahmn? I see he has left his garb behind.”

“He swims below.” Ratha nodded to the pool of water beside them, which was a dark greenish color and too dark to see more than a few feet deep. “I’m not sure I understand it, but Hahmn claims it is one of the rare unclaimed places, where the gods of the Pact cannot tread, and so he can reach his own goddess there. While beneath, she fills his lungs with air, so he has no need to come up for breath. He has been down an hour already, seeking guidance.”

“I will be glad for some guidance. Though… I had a thought.”

“About our little plan?” Ratha asked.

“Aye. We wish to stop this Lsetha from harming the people of the lake, but if Vehx is correct, it is a Sendra like him. That means it is a servant to someone. Even if we were to discover its bane and slay it, the master will remain. And just now, you said that Ulm-etha’s sacrifices have not been effective? Perhaps the same master is responsible for that, some kind of sabotage.”

“So if we don’t find the master, things might just keep getting worse,” Ratha said.

“Exactly. Therefore, I think our first attempt should be to open a dialogue. We need to find out who this master is, and what they want. If the Lsetha is a Sendra, it is no beast. It can speak, provided we can convince it to do so.”

“You want to talk to that monster? What will you do when it tries to drag you below the lake?”

“As to that, I suppose it depends on what miracles Awlta has blessed Hahmn with. Mine own are powerful, but not well-suited to combat.”

As if on cue, Hahmn appeared with a great splash, rising up from the center of the pool, taking a deep breath of air. He strode out onto the shore naked, dripping water, with a satisfied look on his face.

“My lady goddess has spoken to me,” Hahmn announced. She has given her blessing to our alliance, and wishes us well in our endeavor to defeat the Lsetha. Good morning, Isaand. We will break our fast once I’m dressed, and then we can be on our way. Ratha knows what waters the Lsetha frequents.”

They ate quickly, a sparse meal of flat-bread and charred fish as long as Isaand’s finger, and finished what was left of the wine. While they ate, Hahmn answered Isaand’s questions regarding his goddess’ miracles.

“Awlta may be slandered as a cruel and bloodthirsty one, but her true focus is the protection of the weak and the punishment of evil. She has granted me some small abilities to allow me to overcome those who would use their strength to exploit others. Even a paladin would have a hard time facing me with Awlta’s protection,” Hahmn boasted. “You’ll see, if it comes to violence, goddess forbid. The Lsetha may be deadly, but it’ll not find me an easy victory.” In return, Isaand told him of his idea to speak with the Lsetha, and begged him to stay back until he had a chance to try.

As they crossed the island towards Ratha’s tied up boat, Hahmn had one last thing to say. “The goddess spoke of much to me in her holy pool. Messages were given, to each of you.”

“To me as well?” Ratha said. “I’d not have thought the holy goddess would even know my name. I bear her no ill-will, but I’m no follower either.”

“We are all children of the gods, no matter how the Pact would try and slice us all up into separate peoples. The Unbound care for all their children. Awlta would have me tell you this: you will witness much here in the Clear Lake. Do not forget what you’ve seen when you next meet with your friends.”

Ratha looked curious at that. “I shouldn’t think I would. She’d have me sings praises of her servant’s actions, I would guess, but I’m afraid I’ll have to reserve my judgment. Though aye, I’m sure I’ll tell the tale whatever it turns out to be. I have many friends, and they enjoy a good tale.”

“And for you, Isaand.” Hahmn turned to him, smiling wide, eyes narrow slits that barely showed his pupils. “The wound cannot heal until the bad blood has been drained. I confess, I know not what she meant, though I suppose a healer would understand at once.”

Isaand felt his hands curled into fists, a sharpness in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and nodded, though he could not bring himself to return Hahmn’s smile. “Aye. I know what she means.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Midday came while they were on the lake, turning their boat south-by-southeast. Ulm-kanet, the village where Isaand had left Ylla waiting, was almost due south, but Ratha claimed that the majority of the Lsetha’s attacks had come near waters to the east, where smaller villages of four or five houses clung to each small island. They would return to Ulm-kanet an hour before sunset, they had decided, to allow Isaand to reunite with Ylla and Vehx, while Ratha took Hahmn back to his island. Isaand wished that he had some way to send the girl a message, but a few more hours shouldn’t be any cause for concern, not with Vehx with her. It was unlikely they would come across the Lsetha so soon, but Hahmn saw no reason not to try.

The trip was lively. The boat sat three easily enough, though Hahmn was large enough he must sit in the middle to keep his weight from throwing off its balance. Isaand sat at the prow, rowing to keep up speed, while Ratha sat at the rear, steering to keep them off the rocks. Hahmn hummed constantly as they rowed, singing lightly under his breath, local folk songs that oft praised the gods of the lake and stone and beach, which Isaand did find a bit strange. The day was warm and bright at first, but soon after midday the sky began to grow darker, clouds sweeping in from the east to block the sun and turn the black stone pillars to a dull gray. The wind picked up, and Isaand was glad to have his cloak wrapped snugly about him. From time to time he glanced back at Ratha, wearing only her light clothing, and wondered if she was cold. Had he been closer, he’d have offered her his cloak.

As the day went on, they passed numerous other boats out, but always Ratha steered clear of them once Isaand pointed them out. “The lake folk are a tolerant people, slow to violence,” she said. “But that’s no good reason to provoke them. Hahmn was known in Merasca, and to some hereabouts. And you’re an obvious outsider. If we’re seen up close we’ll be remembered, and that could cause problems down the line.”

They passed plenty of houses as well. The islands here were small, the largest seeming to have perhaps seven or eight huts clinging to them. Some islands they passed were large enough only for a single household. One house or many, though, every single inhabited island they passed had its own ring of stones honoring their god, though most of the ones here were only knee-high and a few feet across.

Two hours past midday, after they’d eaten a few quick bites of fish and bread to keep them going, Isaand spotted a boat up ahead as they rounded the corner between two uninhabited islands. “Boat ahead,” he called out, bored, as he’d done before. Then he realized he could see no one onboard, and began to scan the waters around it for swimmers. A couple of dark spots caught his eye, off to one side, but something about it was strange. He began to paddle faster.

“Isaand, hold on, I’ll steer us away,” Ratha said.

“No, there’s something… there,” he pointed with the oar. “What’s that in the water?”

“It looks like…”

“Blood,” Hahmn said, maintaining his serene tone of voice. “A good deal of it.”

They paddled closer, watching for others. Another island was a stone’s throw away from the empty boat, with three huts nestled down close to the waterline. No women could be seen cleaning fish on the shore, no children climbing the cliffs. Isaand soon spotted a second boat beyond the first, and another dark spot near it.

They rowed in silently, with no hue and cry at their approach. The spots in the water began to fade by the time they approached, the blood thinning out, but a number of bodies were left floating in their wake. Isaand saw a man a few years older than himself, a fishing spear clenched in his fist with its head snapped off. He was floating face-down, guts and viscera hanging out of his torn belly. A school of fish was gathered around him, nibbling at his corpse. A woman floated near one of the boats, occasionally bumping against it, her eyes staring wide and empty, her throat torn open.

And in the midst of it all, three children floated, their small bodies mangled. Ratha gasped at the sight of them, and Hahmn was silent. Isaand felt a sickness in his stomach that had bile climbing up his throat, but he held it back and reached with his oar, pulling one of the children in towards him. He grasped a foot and pulled it closer, turning it over. It was a boy, perhaps eight years old, and expression of tear on his face, one leg torn off and a deep bite in his side. Blood poured out in small gushes into the lake from each wound.

“These people… they haven’t been dead long,” Isaand said, his voice choked. “This just happened. If we had been here sooner-”

“If it just happened, then the Lsetha could still be around,” Ratha hissed, quietly.

“That’s true,” Hahmn said. “Make for that island. We should see to the survivors. No doubt they are hiding in their huts.”

“We should gather the bodies…” Isaand started.

“We give our bodies back to the lake,” Ratha said. “Not without properly treating them first, of course, and normally we sink them, wrapped in cloth, but… if the monster is near, we have no time. It could be under us right now.”

They found no survivors in the three huts. There were a few tools and things scattered about here and there, but whether that was a sign of a struggle or simply the ordinary detritus of daily life Isaand could not say. There was no blood though, nor any bodies. Three more small boats were tied up outside the huts, but whether there had been more that were taken was unknown.

“Did either of you know the people who lived here?” Isaand asked. Hahmn only shook his head, while Ratha answered.

“Not really. I’d seen them around, I’ve passed through here before. Maybe we’ve talked before, out on the lake, but I can’t really recall. They were just people, like all the rest around here. This makes no sense though. The Lsetha has never killed more than one or two people before. And if it attacked the fishers, what happened to the ones who lived here? Did they flee?”

“What do you think, Hahmn?” Isaand asked. When he received no answer, he stepped out of the hut to where Hahmn was standing at the cliff-side, looking down on the bodies of the children still floating in the water. “Hahmn?”

“I- I- I need just a moment,” Hahmn said, his voice thick with emotion. Isaand was surprised to see that his shoulders were wracking with silent sobs, his body slumped. Up until now, he’d always seemed so calm, so optimistic. It was a shock to see him so heavily affected. Isaand clapped him on the shoulder, then turned away to leave him to his grief.

Ratha, by comparison, was standing strong, her eyes dry. That was good, he supposed, though he found it a bit surprising that she could act so unaffected. She was sifting through some belongings in one of the huts, though what she was looking for he couldn’t say. Giving it up, she tossed a comb back onto a sleeping pallet and turned towards him.

“It must be worse than we thought,” Ratha said. Whatever the Lsetha wants, its speeding things up. We need to warn everyone to stay off the lake. The only way to do that is to get word to Ulm-kanet.”

“Of course. I should return anyway. Vehx will be invaluable in helping us deal with the Lsetha. Going back out on that lake though, I can’t say it won’t make me nervous.”

“Agreed. We should be ready for danger.” That said, Ratha walked around behind one of the huts. Curious, Isaand followed to see her pulling a spear from a rack. Longer than the shorter fishing spears he’d seen around, this one was four feet long with another foot of sharpened bone at the end.

“Heavy spear, for the big fish,” Ratha said. “They don’t often carry them, but it makes a better weapon. Here, you should take one as well.” Isaand helped himself to two of the smaller spears, figuring he could throw them if need be. He paused before taking them, wondering if they should leave a note for the villagers should they come back. No, no one here was likely to be capable of reading, and besides-

“Ratha, Isaand! It’s here!” Hahmn’s voice was high and quavering, back at the cliff. Isaand rushed around, adrenaline flooding his body. He looked past where Hahmn was backing swiftly away from the cliff, and saw nothing. But then he looked down, and saw the waters sliding and breaking as though some long creature was swimming through them, all clear and empty. It vanished, but then he heard a voice in his head, cold and cruel, that made him shiver.

“Well met, little heretics. You should have stayed off my lake.”

Part Two: Chapter Ten