Fearing that Tosan might turn the hellfire wand on him, Annev headed away, around the Academy, searching for Sodar. He glanced back to make sure he wasn’t being pursued by more of the feurog and was surprised to see the devastation behind him.
The bodies of men and monsters littered the ground like dry leaves in a late-autumn storm. Carving its way through the centre of it all was Annev’s own path of destruction flanked by twin trails of twisted corpses. Farther to the south and west, Annev saw scores of feurog tearing across the desecrated landscape, hurrying towards the safety of the surrounding forest while Tosan’s party chased after the fleeing monsters.
Praise Odar! Annev thought, turning back towards the well. As he approached it, though, he spied the pool of blood on the cobblestone base. His heart leapt into his throat then and his prayer changed from exultation to supplication.
Please be there, he thought. Please be alive.
He sprinted to within a dozen feet of the well and finally saw the shredded mass of bloody blue cloth on the opposite side of the structure.
‘No!’ he cried out. ‘No! Please. Sodar!’ Tears streamed down his cheeks, streaking his blood-flecked face. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring as he stared at his mentor’s ravaged body. ‘No!’ he sobbed, racked by the pain of knowing he had been the cause of Sodar’s death. ‘I should have gone with you – I should have listened to you. It’s my fault …’ He keened in agony, gently reaching out to touch the bloody night-blue robes, sobbing … only to find the clothing empty.
‘Ainnevog!’
The voice echoed from inside the well and Annev hurried to the edge. The rope hanging from the hand crank had been unspooled and swung low in the dark space below. Annev lifted his flaming sword and peered into its depths.
A naked man hung several feet down, his wrists bound and tied to the swinging rope. He lifted his snowy head and squinted up into the light.
It was Sodar.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Annev dropped his sword and seized the crank. He pulled down, putting all of his weight and strength behind it, then kicked the lock-bar out of place. Sodar’s full weight immediately tugged on his arm, the crank threatening to spin out of control, and Annev roared, pulling with all his might. The priest’s body was much heavier than the water he usually drew up from the well – and he had always had two hands to turn the crank before. Annev’s muscles screamed at him, but instead of relenting, he stepped up to the edge of the well, forced the crank down, and pulled it back up.
‘One!’ he shouted, pulling violently backward on the handle. He shifted his grip and pushed down, shifted it again and pulled up.
‘Two!’
Nineteen cranks. That’s how many he needed. Seventeen more. Only seventeen more. He yanked, pushed, turned and pulled again.
‘Three!’
Annev’s arm burned with exertion, the muscles threatening to tear. He had never done this before – never with one hand and never with a full-grown man dangling from the end of the line. It had always been a bucket, a single bucket of water.
‘Four!’ Annev screamed, spittle flecking his lips. He grunted and pulled again. The crank slipped from his fingers and pinwheeled backward. ‘No!’ Annev threw himself into the path of the spinning crank. It smashed into his shoulder, cracking his clavicle, and stopped, locked in place by Annev’s body. He grunted, dazed by the pain of his broken collar bone, then felt the bittersweet relief of his magic shirt knitting the bone back together.
I can do this, Annev thought. Odar help me, I will do this. He shifted his body and grabbed the crank once more. He braced his feet and turned. Back. Down. Forward. Up.
‘One!’
It was an eternity before Annev finally pulled Sodar from the darkness of the well. Out of breath and aching from exhaustion, Annev had managed the nineteen cranks without slipping again and ended by kicking the lock-bar into place. The crank had held steady and Annev reached over, slipped his arm beneath Sodar’s armpit, and pulled the priest over the lip of the stone wall. As Sodar tumbled onto the ground, Annev noticed the bloody scars on the man’s bare back.
‘They whipped you?’ Annev choked. What monster would torture an elderly priest, let alone one who had dedicated his life to Chaenbalu and its people? A rage began to build inside his chest, a heat that distracted him from his burning lungs.
Sodar struggled to rise to his feet. Annev helped him up, then retrieved his discarded flamberge. As his hand gripped the hilt, the flames rekindled themselves and Sodar fell backward, his eyes wide as he managed to steady himself against the well wall.
‘You have … learned new magic?’
Annev shook his head. ‘It’s just an artifact from the Vault.’
Sodar smiled weakly. ‘Two days ago, you couldn’t pull a coin from a sack. Now you summon flames from steel.’
Annev shrugged. ‘It’s a common artifact. Anyone could use it.’
Sodar’s smile widened. ‘Maybe. All the same, I’d like to know if you give it a name.’
Annev ignored the teasing and brought the tip of his sword beneath Sodar’s bonds. ‘Hold still.’ The priest nodded and Annev flicked the blade upward, parting the hempen cord as though it were butter. The bonds fell from Sodar’s wrists, revealing the chafed and bleeding skin beneath. The priest rubbed at them, grimacing.
‘My clothes?’
Annev stabbed the sword into the ground and dashed over to the opposite side of the well. He picked up the priest’s tattered garment then helped Sodar pull it over his head. The old man groaned but nodded his thanks, pulling the shredded robe close to his body. He turned to Annev and took in the boy’s missing hand. ‘It’s gone then.’ Annev nodded and the priest sighed.
‘You said you were leaving.’
‘And I did. The moment I finished my final Regaleus sermon, I went east – not to abandon you, but to give you space, and to learn more about who and what was hunting you. I had hoped to start by finding Kelga’s remains and then deducing her part in all of this. Instead, I found a second message from Crag.’
Annev’s blood ran cold. ‘A second message?’
Sodar nodded. ‘It was near a shallow grave containing a mutilated animal. There was also an altar that had been cast down … and Arnor’s bow sitting atop a rock pile.’
‘Arnor … the man who came to visit you?’ Sodar nodded. ‘You think he’s dead.’
Sodar nodded again. ‘There was no body, but plenty of blood – his blood – and a residue of dark magic, something from the shadow realm.’
Shadows …
‘Crag knew Arnor,’ Sodar continued, ‘and he guessed that something foul had killed him.’ He grimaced. ‘He also said that Dortafola – the first vampyr and sworn servant of Keos – has been trying to get one of his agents into Chaenbalu.’
‘What? Why did he leave that out of his first letter?’
‘Because he’s picked up some of my bad habits.’ Sodar’s face grew sour. ‘I’m sure he thought that by sparing details he was protecting us in some way.’