Read The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) for Free Online Page B

aloft.
    “I must warn you, flames seem to excite him.”
    “It is noted. His binds look tight; I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
    Philip raised the torch just above eye level and approached the table. The light from the torch’s flame shone brightly, illuminating the tiny room. He bent his head slightly to get a better look, and the prisoner’s eyes shot open. Philip gasped; the torchlight revealed a pair of irises that were black as pitch. Where there should have been color, life, and vibrancy was only the blank darkness of death. But this was worse than death. Staring into those eyes made him feel as though he gazed into a great chasm separating all of creation from the damned. It was the blackness of the eternal void only spoken of by the monks of ages long since passed.
    Philip stood straight and faced the mystic. “This man is unholy. His existence is blasphemy against every god worshipped by every man, woman, and child in Alvanshia!”
    “My thoughts echo yours,” Olivar whispered. “What do you suggest we do?”
    “I do not know. I need time to think. Whatever he has become, he is still a man and should be treated in accordance with the laws of this land.”
    “As you wish, my lord.”
    Philip breathed in and exhaled slowly. “Was anyone else harmed?”
    Olivar nodded. “There were some.”
    “What of the two men who were with you before I arrived?”
    “Yes, about them,” Olivar answered. “They were not as lucky as the rest of us.”
    “Where are they? By the gods, tell me now!”
    “I can do better than that. I will show you.”
    Olivar turned and exited the room, motioning for Philip to follow. He did as he was asked and was again standing in the dim hallway. Olivar pointed to the room just across from the one containing the prisoner. “They are in there.”
    “I thought you said they left! Why are they in there and not guarding that thing ?”
    “They would be of no help, My Lord.”
    “And why is that?”
    Olivar shrugged. “Both men are quite dead. You see, while one of them was helping me with the restraints. Our guest in the other room broke free. He charged Jon Wilhelm while his back was turned and snapped his neck clean.”
    “Jon Wilhelm is dead?” Philip interrupted. “I was just speaking with him about purchasing some farmland for his family, and you are telling me he’s been killed?”
    “I wish I had better news,” Olivar said. “But I do not. It gets much worse. As I scrambled to grab the attacker before he could do any additional harm, he began to—I do not know how to put this lightly—he began to eat Master Willhelm. Before we could pull him off, the right side of Jon’s face had been rent from the bone. Most disturbing of all was the sight of our prisoner chewing it.”
    Philip forced himself to speak. “Who was the other one? How did he meet his fate?”
    “The other man was Rodel Willhelm. He helped me tie the binds. I slipped as the final strap was being tightened; he managed to tear out Rodel’s throat and do this to my face.”
    “How could one do such damage to three able-bodied men?”
    “There was great strength present in that one. It was not the strength a normal man possesses. Not by far.”
    Philip drew his short sword. “Well he is tied down and unable to do more harm. I will end this here and now!”
    “I don’t suggest it, My Lord.”
    “You don’t suggest anything useful, Olivar! Your suggestions be damned!”
    Philip stormed back into the room housing the prisoner and approached the table, lifting his sword high in the air. “You are a creation of evil!”
    He brought the blade down hard, piercing through the creature’s chest. Philip smiled, knowing that the blade had landed true, destroying its heart.
    “Whence you came, now you shall return!”
    The thrashing continued, the creature ignoring the sword that now penned it to the table. Its dark eyes scanned the room, unseeing.
    “My suggestions were based on