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  Subjects… thought Orix. People, Severun, people!

  Orix didn’t look convinced at all. ‘I’m still not happy with all of this. It endangers my clerics and their staff at the infirmaries. I want extra guards, Lord Severun.’

  ‘That would surely draw attention to all of this, would it not?’

  ‘There has been a vicious attack at one of my infirmaries, I’m quite sure people will understand if we upped the guard on the rest.’ Orix leant forward, expectantly.

  With a smile, Severun nodded his agreement. ‘Very well Master Cleric, send a request to the captains of the City Guard to up their patrols around the infirmaries at night and to station two more men to each infirmary throughout both the day and night. Sufficient?’

  ‘Yes, Lord Severun, thank you,’ Orix said.

  ‘It will do for now, but if there are any further attacks I want battle mages as well,’ he added, seriously.

  Severun laughed. ‘Battle mages? You’ll be wanting crossbowmen on the roofs and men-at-arms along the walls next too.’

  Orix’s eyes opened wide. ‘Oh… I may hold you to that, Lord Severun.’ Both Severun and Orix managed to laugh, and the gnome lowered himself down from the chair. ‘I’m going to send messengers now then, to the Constable of Wesson so it filters down to the captains properly, and to my infirmaries, to inform them of the step up in security.’

  ‘Very well,’ Severun said. ‘Don’t hesitate to let me know when more subjects have turned up either.’

  Orix bowed his head with his reply. ‘I will be swift with any more news, Lord Severun. Good day to you.’

  ‘Good day Orix, and don’t fret over all of this, there was bound to be teething problems on such a large scale experiment.’

  Orix nodded again, although not very enthusiastically, and left the room.

  Severun rose from his chair, crossed his room to the window and looked out over the city. He wondered where the other infected subjects were. Would most of them stay away from the infirmaries now, with added guardsmen on patrol in and around them? Perhaps this event had just made the experiment that bit harder.

  Who had killed those men? Severun had lived in Wesson most of his life, had heard many tales of the underworld and ganger attacks on rival members, but never anything this professional, not in or around an official building anyway… not without it being the work of a large organisation or guild… the Black Guild?

  Severun rubbed his face and let out a long, slow breath, before crossing back to, and dropping into, his swivel chair. The apparent absence of the agent who’d brought the scroll to Wesson worried him more. The agent who held the key to where the item came from and more importantly, who else knew about it.

  Severun pulled an old map of Wesson from his desk drawer and pawed over it as he'd done several times of late, before taking an ink pot and feathered quill sat on his desk and marking another black cross on the map, not far from a previously added mark.

  Where the blazes are you Master Joinson?

  ***

  After a few minutes banging on Sav’s door, then another ten minutes persuading him to go fishing and to get ready, Sav followed Fal and they both left the Dutton Arms and headed off towards the docks. They flagged a hire coach at the first opportunity and asked the driver to take them down to the docks near the prison. The rocks made for better fishing according to Fal. As did the lack of the busy markets, which didn’t set up down that end of the harbour. Nor did the ships weigh anchor that far down.

  The end of Sav’s rod pulled down and sprung back up violently.

  ‘Ooh, I have a bite, first one!’ Sav pulled the rod back hard, and swiftly started pulling the line in.

  ‘Don’t rush it,’ Fal said, ‘you might snap the—’

  As Fal spoke the words, Sav’s line snapped, and the lanky scout toppled over backwards, narrowly missing the sharp edge of a rock.

  Sav cursed as Fal pulled him to his feet.

  ‘First time I get a bite and it snaps. This fishing lark sucks cronies’ arses. I never was any good at it; you’ve caught three already.’ Sav sat on a rock looking thoroughly pissed off.

  Laughing, Fal retrieved Sav’s rod and began attaching another line, tackle and adding some bait to the new hook. ‘Don’t worry Sav, there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’

  ‘Very droll,’ Sav said. He stood back up, snatched the rod from Fal, who laughed even harder, and cast the line back out into the choppy water, before sticking it in the sand between the rocks.

  ‘So,’ Fal said. ‘Who’s this ranger bloke then?’

  ‘Oh yeah, Errolas!’ Sav’s face beamed as he forgot the lost fish, and turned to tell his friend all about Errolas and the previous day.

  They talked for a good while about Errolas and his tour of Wesson, Sav’s latest scouting tour and elves in general. Fal was extremely interested in hearing all about Errolas and his kin, and Sav was equally enthusiastic in telling him all he knew.

  More than a couple of times, Fal and Sav pointed out an inquisitive grey seal bobbing up and down on the waves not far from where they were fishing. It seemed very interested in the two fishermen, probably because of their cries of laughter and shouts of banter towards one another. Fal appreciated the wildlife and usually enjoyed sitting there watching the gulls, terns and occasional seals as he fished in peace, but with Sav as company, he didn’t have much time between Sav’s – often tall – tales to appreciate it.

  When the sun hung low in a plumb hued, cirrus clouded sky, the two friends decided to pack up their fishing gear, Fal’s seven sizeable fish and Sav’s one, far too small to eat or sell, but which Sav refused to throw back in, it being his only catch of the day. He even refused to throw it to the grey seal when it had come in close as if expecting the treat.

  They both headed back up Harbour Way and flagged down the first coach they could, before heading up to The Cartman via Fal’s house to drop off the tackle and fish. Upon reaching The Cartman, they both ordered a meal and drinks, and the sizes and numbers of their catch grew each time they talked to the other regulars.

  After closing time, both men walked to the Dutton Arms where they persuaded the landlord to have a lock in for the price of six fish – one Fal wanted to keep for himself – to be delivered by Fal the next day, and one very small and pathetic fish the landlord only took from Sav so as not to upset him.

  Sav never mentioned to Fal once, for fear of being mocked, his feeling of being watched all day, and Fal failed to mention the very same thing to Sav for the very same reason.

  ***

  ‘He escaped, General,’ a man in dark, dirty clothing said in a southern Altoln accent. The man he addressed sat behind a metal mesh screen with naught but his silhouette visible in the small, dimly lit room.

  ‘You mean you let him get away, Master Dundaven?’ Horler Comlay said, dangerously.

  The man addressing Horler visibly cringed at the harsh tone of the reply. ‘General… they were difficult circumstances. The patrols in the area have been increased. The target ran, I pursued, but when a target runs towards four city guardsmen, I can hardly maintain my pursuit, can I? Not without questions being asked by the guardsmen. It isn’t right, we should have the jurisdiction to pull people in, without pandering to the lords of Wesson.’

  ‘Well of course, Master Dundaven, we all agree there, but nor should you let it get to a stage where a target gets away from you and manages to escape to the City Guard, whether they’ve stepped up their patrols or not. Could he have identified you?’ The harsh tone from behind the screen didn’t let up and the cowering man had to clear his throat before answering.

  ‘No, General,’ Egan Dundaven said honestly, ‘I wore my hood low, and since I’m not from Wesson, I very much doubt anyone would know what I am around here, never mind who I am.’

  ‘I would prefer it if you were certain, Master Dundaven, especially regarding matters this serious, but you doubting it will have to do. Now get back out there and carry on with your assignmen
t.’

  ‘Yes, General, at once, General,’ Egan Dundaven said, as he stood and turned to leave the small room.

  ‘Not in Dockside though,’ Horler said, from behind the screen. ‘Swap with someone in another district. We can’t risk you carrying on there after your failure.’

  Egan bowed low as he replied, ‘as you wish, General.’ He then pulled his hood back over his head and strode from the room, careful not to slam the heavy wooden door behind him as he left.

  A third voice, low and croaky, spoke from Horler Comlay’s side of the screen. ‘I thought you said your best men were on this, General?’

  Horler bristled at the comment, but kept his temper. ‘They are, sire. General Clewarth sent Egan Dundaven to aid me, claiming he is an exceptional witchunter in the south. However, he has never worked in Wesson before, or in any large city.’

  ‘Then why use him?’ the large man asked from the far corner of the room. ‘It is imperative we do not make mistakes that could draw attention to ourselves, especially the attention of the City Guard and its captains.’

  ‘I am using him, sire, because he is said to be one of the best witchunters in south Altoln; he is skilled and experienced and extremely loyal, and more to the point, is not known in Wesson as a Samorlian witchunter.’

  ‘Very well general, I trust you know what you are doing and won’t let mistakes like this happen again. Sort this one out yourself, this evening. I don’t want this arcane magic spreading. We might not know what that unnatural guild is up to with these evil shadows, but we can certainly hinder it every step of the way, until we know more and can strike properly.’

  ‘Very well sire,’ Horler said, as he rose from his seat. He crossed the room, bent low and kissed the large man’s outstretched hand. ‘I will personally see to it straight away, as you wish, just as I did with the first three.’

  ‘Good,’ the large man said. ‘Now be on your way.’

  Horler Comlay left the room through the door on their side of the screen, and left the large man – who remained sat in the corner surrounded by tall candles – pouring over an ancient looking tome titled: Sir Samorl, our Saviour.

  Chapter 8: No more beds

  ‘Lord Severun, this is getting out of hand,’ explained Orix. He looked very tired; his eyes shadowed with dark rings. ‘My clerics are constantly contacting me, asking whether I have found anything, whether the bodies I have been performing autopsies on have yielded any information, and now Morri has informed me his Dockside Infirmary has run out of beds! It's been days since the release, yet the infected keep coming.’ Orix slumped in his usual chair in the guild lounge, while Severun lowered his book to look at the old gnome.

  ‘Good morning Lord Severun,’ the wizard said, sarcastically.

  Orix sighed. ‘Yes, yes, good morning. Now what do you suggest? Should we set up extra beds in other city buildings and use them as makeshift infirmaries as we normally would in a large scale outbreak or disaster?’

  ‘No, Master Orix, I don’t believe that's necessary.’

  Orix cut in rather sharply. ‘Not necessary? Were you listening to me, Lord Severun? We have to do something. There are enough bodies being found in the streets as it is, without people being turned away.’

  And I’m the one facing down my clerics whilst you sit there twiddling your thumbs.

  Severun frowned. ‘One, keep your voice down, and two, these aren’t just people, they are criminals and there will only be so many affected; a good number have died already due to the spell, or murders—’

  Orix flinched on this word.

  ‘Oh stop it!’ the wizard snapped in a hushed tone, glancing at the guild members sat closest to them.

  Severun continued. ‘They are criminals, and criminals murder each other all the time, it's nothing to do with what we're doing for crying out loud. It’s just because we're keeping our eyes peeled and ears open that we're noticing more than normal. Now you told me late last night, subjects had started to die in a couple of the infirmaries. The number of fatalities will start to increase now, thus freeing up beds for others, and eventually they will all be dead and the experiment a success. We can then take it to the King and his advisers, and they will see for themselves what a wonderful service we can provide to make Wesson the safest city in the realm!’ Severun raised his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting a retort.

  Orix rested his head on the back of the chair and let out another deep sigh. ‘Very well, very well. I hate to think of people, criminal or not, the way we're thinking of these “subjects” but I'm sure they have caused pain and suffering to innocents in their past and would again in their futures, had they not been sought out by the spell. I do, however, feel there are far more of them than you made out. Did you increase the number of carriers, Lord Severun?’

  ‘No,’ Severun said flatly. ‘I didn’t have a set number, but I didn’t summon enough magic with the spell I used to greatly increase numbers. I guess every single carrier found a mark and we are unfortunately seeing just how many violent citizens we have out there. Quite disturbing really.’

  ‘Well let’s hope this first experiment has done such a good job, we won’t have to apply this spell much in the future, at all,’ Orix said.

  ‘How have your findings been with the autopsies?’

  ‘It's how I expected. The potion entered through the mouth of the subject by your carriers and absorbed through the subjects’ lungs. The potion doesn’t infect the respiratory system however, it merely uses it as an entry to the body, slowly breaking down and working its way through the victim’s organs until it finally shuts them down. The boils just add to the illness’ effect I suppose, so clerics and the public can see there's something wrong with the person, rather than their body giving up for no apparent reason.’ Although I didn’t expect it to manifest itself quite the way it has, or be as prolonged within the patients like it has been.

  ‘Well, it all seems to be doing the trick and working extremely well, my old friend. All your hard work has paid off,’ Severun said, sincerely.

  Orix offered a tight smile. ‘I shall continue to monitor things via the reports from my clerics and by carrying out random autopsies. The latest to die in an infirmary is being transported here as we speak, so I can perform the autopsy this afternoon.’

  ‘Very well Master Orix, I will let you get on and I will continue with my book. Let me know of any changes. Not that I foresee any.’ Severun raised his book and continued with his reading, whilst Orix hopped off his chair and walked towards the door, thinking how glad he would be when it was all over.

  ***

  ‘Sire, there are too many,’ Horler Comlay said, clearly annoyed. ‘We have eliminated several as you know, yet the infirmaries are filling with patients all showing the same symptoms. We cannot risk another infirmary attack now they’ve increased the number of guards, and there are less and less of the infected on the streets. It seems word has got out they’re being targeted, and so they flock to the guarded infirmaries to seek aid.’

  Horler slumped into a chair in front of a large desk and rested his head against the hard, wooden back. He filled his pallid cheeks with air and let out a long, slow breath.

  The plump man on the far side of the desk didn’t answer immediately, but played with the heavily jewelled rings on his chubby fingers as usual.

  ‘Very well, General,’ he said eventually. ‘Your witchunters have done well considering the attention the City Guard is giving the infirmaries and surrounding streets. We still don’t know what the guild plans though, and this displeases me. I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially in my own city.’

  ‘Of course, sire, nor do I. If there were any way I could speed things up I would, but it is imperative my men work slowly, otherwise they may draw undue attention to themselves within the guild.’

  ‘I am aware of that, General, but we do not have the luxury of time when pitted against the arcane, especially when wielded by such powerful foes.’

  The l
arge man shifted in his chair, which groaned as ever in protest under his weight. ‘Tell your men to step up their efforts, to take chances! I want information and answers, General Comlay, and the risk of losing a few of your men doesn’t concern me. The loss of the city, however, does. There will be casualties on our side during these dark times, and I am willing to accept their sacrifices for the greater good, so tell them to take necessary risks and get me answers before this city falls at the hands of our enemy.’

  Horler nodded as he took in the orders. ‘Of course sire, my men will be pleased to make progress and are quite willing to make sacrifices. They will not betray us to our enemy, I can swear on that.’

  ‘Do not disappoint me, General.’

  Horler Comlay stood, leant across the desk and kissed the rings upon the hand of the large man, before turning and striding from the room.

  ***

  A black cart rumbled slowly through the large front gates of Tyndurris. Fal saw it from the tower’s main door, and started down the steps and across the courtyard to where the cart had stopped, Godsiff Starks on his heels.

  ‘Another body?’ Fal asked the driver of the cart.

  ‘Yeah, from an infirmary in Park District this time,’ the young driver said.

  Fal nodded towards the linen wrapped body. ‘How many is it now then?’

  ‘Not sure,’ the driver said. ‘I haven’t worked the coach for a few days and I haven’t spoken to the other driver yet, but I did hear there’s been a handful since yesterday, all the same kind of deaths. Keeps us in business though. What with all these murders, as well as the illnesses, my father’s in his element.’

  Fal couldn’t help but laugh, although he felt a pang of guilt as Starks cringed away from the body the driver and his companion had pulled from the back of the cart. Although covered up, the normally white sheets showed crimson marks here and there.