"Arrest him," Darian said again. "Prove your loyalty to the Emperor."
Kien and Leila's jaws dropped in unison.
"But why?" Yakob protested.
"When one is initiated as a Putresco in the Tomb Order," Darian turned around and spoke directly to the new Trenmir recruit, "one's mana pathways are opened in a manner very similar to the Drai. Only we are not influenced by the Mad Gods, the Pretenders. We serve the one true Holy purpose. In return, the Emperor grants us power."
Power...
"Our abilities are dependent on the Order of initiation. Aether Trenmir are far superior in combat to any other order, for example."
"I don't understand," Yakob was standing now, almost shouting. "Why do I have to arrest my brother? What has he done wrong?"
"I thought you were smarter than this, Yakob. The Eclipse."
"I would know if Amos was Drai."
"Weren't you saying he was acting strangely just before you left? Didn't your parents say there were strangers frequenting the farm in your absence? Was he not present when the Umbra passed directly over this very spot?"
Leila began to sob. She buried her face in Kiens shoulder.
Amos... Do something...
"I-"
"Besides all that, dearest Yakob," Darian cut him off. His eye was steeled with anger. "A Tomb Trenmir can smell death. And young Amos here positively reeks."
Can he smell me?
Yakob opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly. His brow was creased in confusion. Amos stood beside his parents with the patience of a man being sentenced to death row. Kien's eyes were narrowing as he rubbed Leila's back.
"Don't make me ask again, boy."
Amos watched Yakob turn to face him. Darian stood behind the brother, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
"Yakob, wait," Amos said. He tried a placating gesture.
"Amos..." Yakob reached behind his back for something Amos couldn't see. There were tears in his eyes. "I wanted to teach you how to read."
"I want that too. We can still have that, Yakob."
Yakob has a plan Amos. We have to trust him.
I'm going to kill Darian. Not now, not here. But he will smell his own slow death.
Just trust my brother.
Amos shook his head. Maybe Yakob had a plan. Maybe he could trust him. Maybe Darian wouldn't kill him in a cell.
But it was too many maybes. There was only one way out of here.
Amos ran.
Dumbass.
He shoved past his parents, throwing his chair at Yakob to prevent the arrest from taking place. In a few quick steps he was in front of Darian. The Putresco's eye widened in shock.
A life working on the farm had filled Amos' frame with muscles made for heavy work. He tucked his head to the side and shouldered the man out of his way. Darian went sprawling and Amos was at the door, wrenching it open.
The sun had set. The cool night sky was covered by a thick layer of clouds. Amos couldn't see the stars, but the moon hung heavy and full. The Trenmir caravan was just by the entrance.
Amos took one last look back at the farmhouse. Leila crying. Kien half-dead from that night in the forest. Yakob bleeding on the floor. And there, in the middle of it all, was Darian. A dark splotch on the scene - an intruder in the family home. The cause of it all.
The black-robed man raised his finger and pointed it at Amos. Instead of a warning, a reproach, a maniacal speech, he simply spoke: "Hold."
Amos had seen this before. He still wasn't ready for it.
A skeletal hand forced itself out of the earth just past the threshold of the house. It clawed up and out - a veritable zombie. Rotting flesh, black and green, hung just as tattered as the clothes it wore. It smelled putrid.
It was quick, though. Quicker than Amos would have guessed, based off the many movies and games he had seen on his old world. It followed the Putresco's orders and grabbed hold of both Amos' arms, holding him in place by the door. Amos thrashed, trying to escape the grip of the undead. It didn't react at all. The leathery, bony hands were a vice keeping him from freedom.
I told you to trust him.
Take control then, dickhead.
If only I could. None of this should have happened.
Darian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he pushed himself up. Yakob was also extricating himself from the seat Amos had thrown.
Darian retrieved a small knife from his coat. Nothing greater than a letter opener, really. He strode to where Kien was sitting and hauled the weakened father from his seat. Leila fell forward with a cry as her support disappeared from beneath her.
"Arrest him, Yakob," Darian said. He was holding Kien by the throat, away from everyone else. The dagger was pointed at his side. The threat was clear.
Amos felt a severe pounding in his head, the same headache whenever Aquila pushed the boundaries of their bond. He grimaced.
Darian will die.
I will kill him myself.
When Amos spoke, it was not with his own voice. Aquila controlled his tongue, forming the words. "I'll kill you, Darian! I'll fucking kill you! You're a dead man walking!"
"True," Darian said with a shrug, "but death comes for us all."
"Put the knife down, Putresco," Yakob said.
Darian's eyes flashed. "Do not give me orders, boy."
Yakob's eyes darted from Amos, to the zombie, to his father at knifepoint, to Leila crying. Presently, Amos saw a shape coming down the stairs from which he entered this disaster of a situation. Ink stepped into the candlelight.
His tattoos were liquid. They swirled across his skin in rings and snaking patterns, never settling. Amos thought they looked agitated. He gave another tug at the zombie's grip, hoping the newcomer would have distracted it. No luck.
"Let my best friend go, Putresco," Ink spat. There was so much venom in the title. A hatred Amos had never seen from his friend in the short time he had known him. A hatred he hadn't thought Ink capable of. His eyes were a brighter green in this light than under the sun.
"Who are you?" Yakob asked.
"My name is Ink," he answered, "christened by Amos of the Aquilas. Created as the Vessel for Ascension. I am the work of the Eidolon, crafted to fit him. I work on this farm." The tattoos swirled even more virulently before.
"The Vessel!" Darian said. "Master has been looking for it ever since it went missing."
"Your master wants Ink?" Amos asked.
"I'm sure he would like to speak to you as well, Amos. After your foray into his realm."
"Drop the knife, bootlicker," Ink said.
"The Vessel always did have a one-track mind," Darian said, addressing Yakob. He dug the knife into Kien's skin. Not far enough to cause any real damage, but he drew blood. Then he addressed Ink, "I'm in charge here."
"Please," Leila sobbed, "let him go."
Darian smiled, digging the knife in further.
Kill him.
Kien cried out in pain, too weak to fight as Darian gleefully slipped the knife further into his stomach. Amos strained against his restraints. His veins popped, his face was red. It was useless.
Kill him!
The zombie was immovable.
Then, there was a new voice in his head. One he had heard only once before. A gentle, sly woman. Whispering.
Cancer, Lady of the Moon.
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