E. A Andersen
Chapter One- Inside Out
The storm wailed like a witch burnt at the stake – a sound which usually comforted her. Not today. The swamps reeked too much even for an inquisitor to stomach. The stench of rot clashed with the odour of damp and her chest tightened. Rayla tore her drenched, armoured shoe out of the mud, shielding her face from, yet another, flaying blast of rain. The hail had been raging for days, whipping the surface of the murky water, pelting against her drenched cape, relentlessly flogging her shoulders. It charged against her bone armour scourging her with a myriad of lashes, wearing her out more than healing a savage ever had.
Chime.
Rayla stopped, listening for the sound, but it was gone. The swamp gurgled instead, again and again, each time deeper and much more hollow. Rayla held her breath, but the putrid smell swirled through her nostrils and sat down at the back of her throat. Touching the vial of Light for comfort, she followed the stench. The request for search and rescue from the local infirmary confirmed a few young men were missing – some of the weak body, and some of the weak mind – the request all brothers immediately deemed pointless. Some were created weak for a reason, the Master would always say, and keeping away from them was in everybody’s best interest. No search was too pointless to her, even if it raised a few eyebrows.
Rayla had spent nearly a week, forcing her way through the sponge-like marshes of the hospital’s unmanned Isolation Island, a week to find anything that would bring the men home; anything worth reporting back to the Master; anything to get noticed. All she had so far was a mosaic of bug bites and mud in her pockets. But this would not deter her. Those who persevere shall prosper.
Chime.
Her heart stopped. Darkness had crept over the swamp, cloaking the tree silhouettes in dancing shadows. She squinted, blinded by the impenetrable fabric of the night.
Chime.
Something snapped under her foot, and she sunk, neck deep into freezing, maroon liquid.
Chime.
The cold sank in, draining her warmth in quick gulps. Rayla drank the Light, wincing at the shock it gave her. In one move, she pulled herself out of the bog, trudging through the thorny trail. Something crept up her arm, again. She crushed it, examining what was left of the shell. ‘Blood beetles,’ she murmured, observing the scavenger insect. She reached down her collar, draining the remaining drops of Light. Her mind calmed, and the world lit up in azure and turquoise.
A distant buzz hummed in the air, indistinguishable from the drumming rain at first, yet louder as she approached it. With each step, the cacophony of noises grew into an intense crescendo as if all insects of the Everdark gathered to sing their litany to Lady Darkness.
And then she saw it. Towering over a narrow stretch of land, was an enormous, sky-high swarm of onyx insects, twisting and turning, buzzing and overflowing like a cauldron of boiling tar. As she faced the humming wall, the swarm erupted in a morbid symphony. Rayla mouthed a silent prayer.
Then, she stepped into the swarm. The noise was deafening. The stench pierced through Rayla’s lungs, making her eyes water. She remained still and forced herself to breathe. After a while, the world around her became quiet, and her mind regained clarity. Even in the pitch-blackness of the night she could clearly see what the insects were feeding on. Right in the middle of the swarm, in a thick pool of blood stained water, lay a blackened, glistening mass of flesh.
At first, Rayla wasn’t sure what she was looking at. A moment later she was already running back to the infirmary, wading the water around her, drenched in new layers of mud and slime. At least three dozen bodies. All turned inside out. The wind blew, and she heard it again. The deep chime of hollowed out bones crudely left to mark somebody’s or something’s territory.
***
Marcus von Bleinheim, the Grand Master of the Order of Light, looked up quizzically when Rayla arrived at his office. The Great Chamber was at the heart of the Citadel of Light, at the end of a maze of strains and corridors. Night had fallen over Adlerburg long before, and she knew she had been expected to arrive much, much earlier. Rayla glanced at the mechanical clock built into a spiked, cast iron frame in the shape of a woman. The Healing Maiden always showed the exact time. Nearly the witching hour. She was late. Again.
The master was sitting by a fireplace, dwarfing one of the lavish oak chairs, piercing her with his eyes. His clean-shaven skull and his leathery, weather-beaten skin were peppered with flash scars – each of them a testament of a defeated savage. A polar bear fur cape rested on his shoulders, revealing an embossed, bone-clad armour plate, with a symbol of lightning, level with his heart. But it was his greaves that surprised her the most; reinforced both with a double layer of bone and the Light. The Master was in full protective armour.
She slipped off her drenched cloak and threw it on one of the wall hangers. It landed over the Healing Maiden, slowly sliding down, smearing the polished metal with slime. Mud pooled at its feet, and Rayla shifted. Bleinheim curled his nails into the palms of his hands, and the corners of his mouth turned up.
‘I’m sorry.’ She had mumbled before he managed to say anything, ‘but the Adler flooded the marshes again and I had to take the long route.’ Rayla shifted uncomfortably as her cold, wet under armour stuck to her back. She was freezing, and even running up countless flights of stairs wasn’t enough to warm up. The fire in the grate cracked. The empty chair beckoned at her invitingly, but she didn’t make a move. His eyes still fixed on her, Bleinheim stood up, and strode across the room, reaching towards the Healing Maiden.
‘I was aiming for the hanger, my lord.’ Rayla shut her eyes, hoping that her coat would somehow disintegrate.
Bleinheim cut her off. ‘Both I, and the Founding Father have found your letter… unsettling.’ Rayla flinched at the sound of his voice. The voice of a man you follow or fight, but never disobey, she reminded herself, and now more than ever, she wished she was on time, at least once. The cast iron groaned, and the Healing Maiden opened. The Master’s hand disappeared in the thicket of spikes. A moment later, a small parcel wrapped in parchment paper appeared in his hands. Carefully, he unrolled it. To her surprise, the delicious aroma of almond and honey filled the room and Rayla’s mouth watered. Bleinheim took one of the sweet cakes and popped it into his mouth.
‘No one ever ventures into the depths of the Healing Maiden, unless explicitly encouraged.’ He chortled, patting the frame on the back. Rayla’s stomach turned. She fixed her gaze onto her shoes, which all of a sudden seemed fascinating. ‘I have summoned the veterans,’ he smacked his lips. ‘If what you have found is what I think it is, we will have to declare the state of emergency in the whole State of the Order. There is a long night ahead of us.’ The grand master smacked his lips again and marched towards the door. Rayla looked glum. She could hear her stomach gurgle and she wondered if he could hear it too.
‘But first, get some rest.’ The parcel landed in her hands. ‘Eat and warm up a little. But be quick; we are all waiting for you in the Great Hall.’