40. Death Comes (Patreon)

Gilbert jumped up, a hand on his sword. Before he could grab Cecile and flee, Silas pushed him back. “Hold still. There’s not enough time.”

A stiff wind rattled the trees, sending branches and leaves tumbling. Icy, the chill reached even Gilbert on the second floor. Clouds swirled. The moon and soulstream barely had time to beam light down on the town uninterrupted by the barrier before the clouds consumed them. Pitch black fell over the town.

Cecile tensed. “What’s going on?”

Leaning out the window, Silas stared at the forest’s edge. His whole body tensed, a single taut bowstring ready to fire. His fingers curled on the windowsill, and only Gilbert noticed his shadow twist their tips to claws and scratch the paint to ribbons. “Death comes.”

Laredo burst into the room, trailing Vi on her leash. “The barrier’s down. We have to move.”

Cecile shook her head and whispered, “It’s too late.”

Shadowy forms emerged from the forest. A half-dozen dark-cloaked figures marched in a vague triangle formation. One lifted his head and scanned the horizon, eyes glittering in the dark.

Gilbert dragged Silas back from the window.

Silas didn’t fight him, staring dead ahead, glued to the formation. His lips moved soundlessly. Where?

From out of the forest stepped a slender form in a long green cloak.

Gilbert’s breath caught. His eyes went wide. His grip tensed on Silas’s arm. It can’t be.

Moonlight spilled through a gap in the clouds. It limned over velvet, feathering it silver. The figure stopped. Ahead of her, the formation drew to a halt as well as though signaled, though Gilbert neither saw nor heard an alert. She looked up, and silver flashed in the moonlight. A half-face mask hid her eyes in shadow but revealed delicate lips, pale chin, the blue of icy veins peeking through bloodless skin.

Gilbert stiffened, struck. His heart beat, racing, aching in his chest. He trembled, old rage eating him from the inside. His throat scratched. A rough sound escaped, almost human speech. “—mmy.”

Someone yanked him backward. He whirled, only half-aware, hand pressed to his sword, fire already warming the blade.

Cecile frowned. “We have to go,” she hissed.

Gilbert blinked. The fire died from his sword.

Silas struggled in his grasp, suddenly coming to life as well. “Hurts, it hurts,” he murmured, halfheartedly fighting Gilbert’s grasp.

Releasing Silas, Gilbert hurried after Cecile. Barely visible around the corner, Laredo and Vi hustled ahead, out of the house. Without moonlight or the soulstream, the house threatened to trip him around every corner. One hand on the wall, he navigated blindly, shuffling his feet to try not to trip.

A loose board caught his toe, and he stumbled and plummeted toward the kitchen and a rack of pots and pans dangling from the ceiling. Gilbert threw his hands out and caught only air. Shit!

Something like a rope yanked at his waist. He halted at a forty-five degree angle to the floor, feet barely supporting his weight. He glanced down and found shadow circling his waist. Another yank, and he settled onto his feet.

“Shhh,” Silas whispered, and took his arm. A quiet hand on his elbow guided him through the rest of the house, Silas not the least bothered by the dark.

Laredo paused at the back door, Vi’s leash cinched close. He nodded at Gilbert and advised, “Hold the boy.”

Gilbert glanced at Silas, who still had a grip on his elbow. I guess Laredo can’t see it from his angle.

Silas smirked back and offered his hand. Gilbert took it.

Laredo gestured them all in. They gathered close around him, heads tipped together, except Vi, who leaned against the wall, eyes half shut, a petulent expression on her face. “Cecile’s life is the most important. If we all die but she survives, consider that a victory on your return to the soulstream.

“We move as one. Vi and I will take an alternate route. In the worst case, we’ll serve as bait. Gilbert, you follow Cecile. Protect her with your life. Silas, child, you are young. Your life is your own. If we are noticed and fighting breaks out, run.”

“And me?” Cecile asked.

Laredo clapped her on the shoulder. “Your job is to survive. Survive and escape.”

She nodded, lips pressed together.

“Hide when you reach the forest. Move away from the mountains, toward the Celerus River. When we’re safe, I’ll send a signal. If none comes, follow the Celerus to its source, and take refuge in the Aqua Shrine there. Ask for Piero—he’s an old friend of mine. If no one else makes it, he’ll take you to the Ignis region's capitol from there.”

Cecile grabbed his arm. Her fingers wrinkled the stiff fabric, her grip desperate. “We’ll all make it. No one is going to die.”

Gilbert put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. I won’t let anything happen.

Laredo smiled gently. He removed her fingers from his arm, stifling a grimace, then gently gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s best to be prepared.”

He released her and stepped away. “Wait thirty seconds, then follow me.”

Cecile nodded.

“May you walk under the soulstream's light." With a last smile, Laredo stepped outside.

Vi glanced back. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and a smirk pulled at the corners of her lips.

Gilbert lunged. Whatever she’s about to do, it’s no good.

She tossed her head and spat the gag. At the top of her lungs, she screamed, “Master! Over here!”