Among the Dead and Dying, Page 2

Chapter One

  Adelaide Kessel was the matriarch of one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom of Golden Rock, and as such she wasn’t used to being detained when traveling through the city. She was riding in one of her more modest carriages, white lacquered and with red cushion seats within. The compartment afforded little privacy, though it was covered to prevent weather from affecting the riders, with the exception of the driver who was perched upon his seat up front, guiding the steeds. This carriage was meant for short trips to the market, and allowed the populace to see the aristocrat in her finery. It was always good etiquette to commiserate with the commoners, and she enjoyed these sojourns away from her mansion near Golden Rock castle.

  Today had proceeded as expected, with a simple shopping trip down to the farmer’s market on the River Wisp, where she’d purchased a few eggplants, cabbage, and string beans to bring back to her chef. Adelaide wasn’t running errands for her servant. She enjoyed selecting the fruits and vegetables that looked appetizing to her, which she would then bring back to Claude and instruct him to use them in the meal he was preparing for the evening. She would be hosting two other aristocrat matriarchs this evening, and needed to make a good impression. Informing them that she’d personally picked out the produce for the evening was always a good way of letting them know she was still up and active, even at her age.

  “What could be taking so long?” asked Adelaide as she leaned her head out of the windowless door beside her. They were in the fields of corn that lined the eastern wall of Golden Rock, and they had to make it all the way across to the other side of the city to get home. “Peter,” she called out to her driver. “What are we waiting for?”

  “The guards, ma’am,” said Peter. He was old but loyal, and had been driving Adelaide for years now. He wore black slacks and a suit coat even on the hottest days because he understood the importance of appearances, and Adelaide appreciated him for that.

  “Have they said why?” She was sitting with her back to the front of the carriage, and craned her neck as she tried to gaze out ahead. There were men hired to protect Adelaide, named by their profession as Swords, and they were riding on horseback ahead and behind the carriage. Only one Sword remained in the rear, while the rest were all focused on something ahead. Two of the men had even dismounted, which made Adelaide worry that they would be here for longer than she wanted.

  “Is it another beggar?” she asked and dug into her purse to retrieve a pouch that jangled as she lifted it. “Throw some pel at him and be done with it.” She opened the pouch and was about to remove some of the short, thin rods of gold when she heard something crunch in the field of corn beside her. She paused and glanced out at the tall, green crops.

  “Peter, did you hear something out there?” She pointed out at the field, and tried to peer between the short spaces between the stalks. “Peter? Peter, are you listening to me?” She leaned out of the carriage again and saw that her driver’s arm was laying limply at his side. The steed’s reins were slack, loping deep enough to touch the ground.

  “Peter?” she asked again, this time fretful.

  “Peter’s dead,” said a stranger’s voice from the other side of the carriage.

  Adelaide yelped and spun in her seat to face the man. He was a brutish looking thug, with a square jaw and a scar that traced a line from beside his nose, over his mouth, and down to his chin. His nose was wide and flat, with a ridge that bowed out and went up to his equally pronounced brow. He was smiling, but it was impossible for him not to look menacing as he stared with icy blue eyes at the aristocrat.

  Adelaide placed her hand over her breast, crumpling the lace and jangling the silver chain that held her emerald pendant. “Brigand,” she said the word like a curse and then reached for her purse and tucked it to her belly. “Help, Swords!”

  “No one to help you now, you ratty old tart.” The man opened the door of the carriage, and Adelaide reached for the handle of the opposite side to escape. She got the door open, but her elaborate gown was too difficult to manage as she tried to get out. The attacker was inside the carriage holding her down before she could do anything. She fought back, but he quickly subdued her. His girth pressed down on her fragile, old body, crushing her against the red cushion and causing her to cry out in pain.

  The sound of swords clashing came from outside, but it was over by the time Adelaide surrendered. These brigands had been lying in wait in the field, and surprised Adelaide Kessel’s Swords, slaying them before most of them even had a chance to dismount.

  She knew there would be other travelers coming along this road, and hoped that they would save her from whatever fate this devil had in mind. His arm was at her throat, pressing her against the back of the carriage as he held her waist with his other hand. The man’s thumb was digging into her, and he grinned as he kept her seated.

  “Do you know who I am?” she asked when he eased up the pressure on her throat.

  “Of course I do,” said the brigand. “That’s why I’m here, Lady Kessel.”

  “If you’re after pel, you can have it. But you’ll have Swords hunting you down for years for this if you hurt me.”

  “I’m not interested in your money.”

  “Then what are you doing this for?”

  “I want information.” He released her waist and reached to his side where he produced a wicked looking knife, short and thin, with either side sharpened. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

  “What sort of information?”

  “About a girl your family hid from us. She was a baby then, and your son snatched her away from her bed. Ah yes, you know who I’m talking about. I can see it in your eyes. Where is she?”

  “I don’t…” Adelaide began to speak but the brigand thrust his hand back hard against her throat, silencing her as he held the small knife up and glared at her with his big, menacing eyes.

  “Before you start telling lies, you might want to know what I do to liars.”

  Adelaide grinned, feeling like she finally had the upper hand in this confrontation. “You’ll stick me with your knife? Then let’s not waste time. Get on with it. I’m old enough to have made my peace with the Nine. Send me to my promised rest.”

  “No, I have a different promise for you,” said the brigand, and Adelaide was certain he would kill her. She prepared for the pain, assured it would be no worse than the childbirth she’d endured five times in her life. Death at his hands was a small price to pay to keep certain secrets kept safe.

  The man didn’t stick the knife into her, but instead turned it on himself. He plunged the knife deep into his own neck, and Adelaide yelped out in shock at the sight. His dark blood coursed down his arm as he smiled at her, unfazed by what he’d done to himself. She wanted to flee, but he loomed over her in the small carriage, pinning her to the seat as his blood dripped down onto her white gown.

  “What are you doing? Why would you do that? What’s the matter with you?” She pushed at him, but he didn’t budge.

  The brute pulled the blade free of himself, and the wound left behind continued to gush blood. “You thought you were ready for death.” He reached out with the same hand that still held the knife and wiped his bloody fingers on the aristocrat’s face. She winced as if pained by his touch, and then noticed how cold his blood was. “But here I am, and you’re not ready for me.”

  “You’re a half-dead,” she said in sudden recognition.

  “At least half, maybe even more by now.”

  “Why are you looking for the girl?”

  “Because I do what The Scholar tells me to.”

  “The Scholar?” asked Adelaide. Her former assuredness had fallen away, replaced by terror. “He’s real? I thought he was just a myth.”

  “He’s no myth, Lady Kessel. I can promise you that. The half-deads are returning.” He pointed the blade at her face and she cringed as the tip got closer. “And if you lie to me, I’ll infect you with my blood and send you home a zombie. Then you’ll be sucking t
he meat off the bones of your grandchildren before the day’s through. Now, let’s talk about where you hid the girl, and remember, no lying.”

  “She’s not here,” said Adelaide, still hoping another carriage would come this way and save her.

  “We already know that. Where is she?” The brigand got frustrated when Adelaide didn’t answer immediately and he shouted out, “Where is she?”

  “New Carrington.” She felt pitiful and defeated as soon as the name of the city escaped her lips. “She’s in New Carrington. Last I heard she was training to be a baker, under a man named Ward.”

  “Excellent,” said the half-dead. “And what’s her name?”

  “Saffi,” said Adelaide. “But she’s not what you think she is. She’s just a regular girl…”

  They were interrupted by a man outside who came up to the carriage’s window and said, “Dessidus, we need to go.”

  Adelaide looked over at the man and saw a cloaked figure wearing a leather mask that covered his mouth and nose. The man’s face shield was designed to feign the shape of a mouth and nose, unlike a simple brigand’s mask. He had the darkest pair of eyes she’d ever seen, and when he looked at her she turned away in fright. His attention was unsettling, and she didn’t want to spend any more time looking into his black eyes.

  “Has she told you where to find the girl?” asked the stranger.

  “Yes,” said Dessidus as he continued to taunt Adelaide with his bloody knife. “She’s in New Carrington, studying to be a baker.” He let the knife’s tip poke at Adelaide’s cheek as he asked her, “What did you say her name was?”

  “Saffi,” said Adelaide as she tried to move her head away from the infected blade.

  Dessidus moved back and sat down heavily upon the seat across from Adelaide. He wiped the blood from his knife before putting it back in the sheath inside his vest. “Thank you, Lady Kessel. Now where’s that pel you were talking about before.”

  “I thought you weren’t looking for money,” said the aristocrat, emboldened now that her attacker had moved away.

  Dessidus reached across the gap between them and took her purse. She tried to grab at the bag, but then a stern look from the brigand cooled her bravery. He emptied the purse unceremoniously onto the floor of the carriage and then picked up the pouch of pel she’d offered him before. “I’ll take that pendant too.”

  She placed her hand over the Kessel heirloom attached to its silver chain and said, “Not this, please. It’s been passed down through our family for centuries.”

  “And now it’s going to be passed on down to me,” said Dessidus. He reached across the carriage and grabbed the jewelry. When he pulled, the chain didn’t snap and the aristocrat was yanked forward.

  Adelaide yelped in pain and then said, “Let me unhook it, you idiot.” She reached around and undid the clasp, and then threw the pendant at him. “There! For all your bluster, you’re still nothing but a thief.”

  Dessidus grinned, revealing his crooked, yellowed teeth. “That’s certainly what we want the Swords to think when they find your body.”

  Adelaide heard the twang of a crossbow’s string from outside of the carriage, and then something struck her temple. She was dead before her head hit the plush red cushion.