“ Where is my brother?” Vaelin demanded.
The man who had spoken flicked his eyes from Vaelin to Scratch, taking note of the blood on his jaws, then blanching visibly as Barkus and the others emerged from the tunnel behind Vaelin.
“ You’re in the wrong place, brother,” the tall man said, Vaelin admiring the effort he put into keeping the tremble from his voice. “One Eye doesn’t take kindly to — ” his hand flashed towards the crossbow. Scratch was a blur of muscle and teeth, leaping the table and fastening his jaws on the tall man’s throat, the crossbow sending its bolt towards the ceiling. The other five men were on their feet, clutching their weapons, showing fear but no sign of fleeing. Vaelin saw little point in any further talk.
The burly man he charged attempted to feint to the left and bring his axe up under Vaelin’s guard but was far too slow, the sword point taking him in the neck before he could begin his swing. Impaled on the blade he goggled, eyes bulging, blood seeping from his mouth. Vaelin withdrew his blade, letting him collapse to the floor, twitching.
He turned finding his brothers had already dispatched the other four. Barkus, grim-faced, was wiping his sword blade on the jerkin of the man he had killed, a pool of thick blood spreading over the tiles. Dentos knelt down to pluck a throwing knife from the sternum of his enemy, Vaelin thought he may have been blinking away tears. Nortah was staring down at the man he had killed, blood dripping from his lowered sword, his face a frozen mask. Only Caenis appeared unaffected, flicking the blood from his sword and kicking the corpse at his feet to make sure he was dead. Vaelin knew Caenis had killed before but still found his brother’s coolness disconcerting. Am I not the only true killer among us after all? he wondered.
Scratch gave the tall man’s neck a final twist, snapping the spine with a loud crack. Releasing the corpse he trotted around the chamber, his nose twitching as he searched for Frentis’s scent.
“ This is an interesting structure,” Caenis observed, moving to one of the columns that stretched up to the vaulted ceiling and smoothing his palm over the brickwork. “Fine, very fine. You don’t see craftsmanship like that in the city these days. This is a very old place.”
“ Thought it was part of the sewers,” Dentos said dully. His back was turned to the man he had killed and he stood with his arms tightly crossed, shivering as if chilled.
“ Oh no,” Caenis responded. “This is something else, I’m sure. See the motif here.” He pointed out a strange stone carving set into the brickwork. “A book and a quill. An ancient emblem of the Faith signifying the Third Order, a sigil long out of use. This place dates from the earliest years of the city, when the Faith was still new born.”
Vaelin’s attention was molsty fixed on Scratch but he found himself drawn by Caenis’s words. Looking around the chamber he noted there were seven columns rising to the ceiling, each with a carved emblem set into the base. “Once there were seven,” he murmured.
“ Of course!” Caenis enthused, moving around the chamber to inspect each of the columns. “Seven columns. This is proof, brother. Once there were seven.”
“ What are you wittering about?” Nortah demanded, some colour returning to his cheeks. In contrast to Dentos he appeared unable to look away from the body of his slain enemy, his sword still bloody.
“ Seven columns,” Caenis replied. “Seven Orders. This is an ancient temple of the Faith.” He stopped beside a column to peer at the emblem it bore. “A snake and a goblet. I’d wager this is the emblem of the Seventh Order.”
“ Seventh Order?” Nortah finally looked up from the corpse. “There is no Seventh Order.”
“ Not now, no,” Caenis explained. “But once…”
“ A tale for another day, brother,” Vaelin told him. He turned to Nortah. “Your blade’ll rust if you don’t clean it.”
Barkus was examining the riches piled on the table, running his hands over the gold and silver. “Good stuff here,” he said in admiration. “Would’ve brought a sack if I’d known.”
“ Wonder where they got it all,” Dentos said, hefting an ornately engraved silver plate.
“ They stole it,” Vaelin said. “Take what you want but don’t let it weigh you down.”
Scratch gave a short yelp, his nose pointed at a solid section of wall to Vaelin’s left. Barkus moved to examine the wall, thumping his fist against the bricks a few times. “Just a wall.”
Scratch scampered over and sniffed at the base of the wall, his paws chipping away at the mortar.
“ A hidden doorway perhaps.” Caenis came over to run his hands over the wall’s edges. “Could be a catch or a lever somewhere.”
Vaelin pulled the axe from the limp hand of the man he had killed and walked over to smash it into the wall. He kept hacking until a hole appeared in the brickwork. Scratch yelped again but Vaelin didn’t need the hound’s senses to tell him what lay on the other side, he could smell it plain enough himself: sweet, sickening, corrupt.
He exchanged glances with Caenis, finding sympathy in his friends eyes.
Frentis… Wanna be a brother… Wanna be like you…
He redoubled his efforts with the axe, bricks and mortar exploding in a cloud of red and grey dust. His brothers joined in with what tools they could find, Barkus using a hatchet taken from an enemy, Dentos a broken chair leg. Soon, enough of the wall was gone to allow them to enter.
The chamber beyond was long and narrow, torches set into the walls provided light enough to illuminate a scene from a nightmare.
“ Faith!” Barkus exclaimed in shock.
The corpse hung from the roof, its ankles chained and arms secured with a leather strap across the chest. It had clearly been hanging for several days, greying flesh loosened and sagging from the bones. The gaping wound in the neck showed how the man had died. Placed beneath him was a bowl, black with dried blood. There were five more bodies hanging in the chamber, each with their throats cut and a bowl placed beneath. They swayed slightly in the draft from the demolished wall. The stench was overpowering. Scratch wrinkled his nose at the corruption staining the air and kept close to the wall, as far from the bodies as possible. Dentos found a corner to throw up in. Vaelin fought the desire to follow suit and moved from body to body, forcing himself to check each face, finding only strangers.
“ What is this?” Barkus said in sick wonderment. “You said this man was just an outlaw.”
“ He appears to be an outlaw of considerable ambition,” Nortah observed.
“ This isn’t about thievery,” Caenis said softly, taking a closer look at one of the hanging corpses. “This is… something else.” He looked down at the blood-black bowl on the floor. “Something else entirely.”
“ What would…?” Nortah began but Vaelin held up a hand to silence him.
“ Listen!” he hissed.
It was faint, an odd sound, a man’s voice, chanting. The words were indistinct, alien. Vaelin followed the sound to an alcove where he found a door, slightly ajar. Sword held low he eased the door open with the toe of his boot. Beyond was another chamber, this one roughly hewn from rock, bathed in the red glare of firelight, deep shadows flickering over a sight that made him stifle a shout of shock.
Frentis had been tied to a wooden frame in front of a roaring open fire. A gag was firmly secured in his mouth. He was naked, his torso marked by many cuts forming an strange pattern on the skin, blood flowing freely down his body. His eyes were wide open, alive with agony. At the sight of Vaelin they widened further.
Next to Frentis was a man with a knife, bare chested, his strength evident in the knotted muscle of his arms and the hard angular lines of his face, a face with only one eye. The empty socket had been filled with a smooth black stone, reflecting a single red point of firelight as he turned to Vaelin. “Ah,” he said. “And you must be the mentor.”