16. Leoric
Chapter 16
Leoric
H alfway down the path from my cabin I broke into a run, icy wind whipping through my hair. I thought I heard the crash of breaking glass coming from the plaza. But that could have been anything. A brisk wind, a stray cat. Scabbard the dog knocking over a half-empty bottle of Gwerenese wine in search of a midnight snack.
I skittered to a stop when I saw the little crowd of people gathered there. No, only two of them, in fact. Riggs stood out with his armor, his shoulders more sloped and knees more bowed than usual.
Beside him was a shorter person — Jeromah — who was short in physical stature only. I could hear her lecturing all the way from across the square. I hurried closer to join them, heart twinging when I noticed no sign of Orphium, apart from his travel companion, the allegedly intelligent caravan.
“Your entire purpose is to guard this town,” Jeromah said, her fingernail clinking on metal with every jab at Riggs’s armored chest. “Night watch. It’s right there in the job title.”
Riggs rubbed the top of his head, now covered in a half helmet that he hardly ever wore. I knew he’d only put it on to protect himself from Jeromah’s verbal jabs.
“I tired myself out from dancing,” Riggs said, lips upturned in apology. “And perhaps I had a little too much wine.”
Joining the huddle, I rested the blade of my shovel against the ground, catching my breath. “Nobody dances in full armor,” I panted. “Terrible idea, Riggs. Especially when we’ve got visitors in town. More people to look out for and protect, but — look, has anyone seen Orphium?”
Jeromah turned to face me. I fought every impulse to flinch in shock, somehow forgetting about her nighttime routine of hair rollers and a face mask.
“Not since the two of you left the bonfire.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Separately. Hang on. How do you even know that? Weren’t you busy serving folks during the merrymaking?”
She tapped her nose. “Eyes and ears everywhere, Leoric. And still no. His wagon’s here. Back door’s open. Seems suspicious to me.”
My heart twinged when I spotted the shutters and curtains over the little windows. Orphium had made an effort to conceal the blinding brightness from all the bottles in the cabin. And here I thought he’d always be a selfish prick. Here I thought he’d stolen from me and run away.
“I woke up and he wasn’t in bed with me anymore.”
Two pairs of eyebrows shot far up as Riggs and Jeromah stared at me, then at the ground, at the cold bonfire, anywhere but my face. My ears burned, but being caught fucking wasn’t the issue right now.
Riggs’s boot crunched as he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He looked down in alarm, then stepped away again.
“Broken glass,” he said, crouching to inspect the debris. “Bits of shattered bottles.”
Jeromah glanced back toward Orphium’s wagon, then bent down to carefully retrieve a larger, more intact piece of a bottle.
“They match. The glowing bottles in his cabin and this one. Same make and shape, only empty.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Why did he run all the way here in the middle of the night to pour out his potions? I thought it was all just for show. Things to make bright explosions with. Alchemist tricks. That sort of thing.”
“And what the hell is that?” Jeromah shouted, pointing at the ground.
Something was moving among the shards now, a thick gray worm leaving a trail of black ooze. But worms didn’t have fingernails on one end, then exposed bone on the other. My stomach turned. It was a severed finger, something from one of the ghouls. Riggs stomped on it, twisting his boot for good measure.
“Orphium was taken by the ghouls,” I muttered, disbelieving, despairing. “I don’t understand. They made it all the way out here and back. But how?”
Riggs shuddered. “They could have gotten me, too. But they didn’t. Not to say that I’m special or nothing, but — oh. That’s why.”
Jeromah shook her head grimly. “They took Orphium for a reason. We need to find him. Fast.”
Something tugged at my trousers, whining and nipping. It was Scabbard the dog. He pawed at the ground, gingerly scratching the ground next to the glass shards, then turned his head back down the lane that led out of town.
“What’s the matter, boy?” I asked, scratching him behind the ear. He scrabbled away, his snout pointing back toward the lane.
My heart sank. Only a few things back down that path: Penny’s garden, Whiston’s chapel, my own cabin — and the graveyard itself.
Riggs patted Scabbard on the rump. The dog twirled in a circle, whining and yapping, pointing down the lane.
“He wants you to follow him,” Riggs said. “I mean he really, really wants you to.”
Jeromah cursed out loud, sharp enough that it cracked like a whip throughout the plaza. “Bloody stupid Orphium getting himself into trouble again. Is it ghouls? Gods, but I’m tired of ghouls. You two run after the dog. I’ll be with you shortly. Need something to hit with. Stupid, stupid bloody Orphium.”
A window cracked open at the Ugly Mug. A bleary-eyed man stuck his head out, calling out in an accented tongue, polite but clearly annoyed.
“Madam innkeeper, if you could please keep it down out there? My troupe needs to rest. We’ve been so long on the road and I — ”
“Call me ‘madam’ again and you sleep on the street,” Jeromah snapped, heading toward the tavern’s front door. “We’re almost done out here. Someone’s gone missing, the bloody fool. Sleep if you like, but there’s a free continental breakfast for every willing body that helps us on the search.”
The man’s eyes lit up. He slammed the window shut, his bellows only just muffled by the shutters. “Wake up, you lazy bones. Wake up or I drum on your skulls. You sang for your supper, now you work for your breakfast.”
Light spilled out of nearby houses, more of the townsfolk awaken by the ruckus. They’d be annoyed for a minute, but they would spring into action the moment they knew that Mr. Orphium’s Emporium himself had gone missing.
I smiled in spite of my burgeoning worry, on the verge of spiraling into fear. Barrowdeep truly did take care of its own. Whether he liked it or not, Orphium was one of us now. And we were going to save him, no matter what it took.
The front door of the Ugly Mug slammed open. Jeromah emerged with her late husband’s battle hammer, the perfect tool for breaking skulls. In her wake came our musical guests, wielding Gwerenese blades and bardic magic, tiny flames dancing on their fingertips.
“Scabbard,” I shouted, hoisting my shovel up onto my shoulder. “Lead the way, boy.”
With an excited bark, the dog took off like a silver streak down the lane.
My heart pounded in rapid rhythm as we hurried after Scabbard, so energetic despite his scrawny frame. When all this was over, I would owe him an entire pig’s worth of bacon. No more scraps for the spindly little stray.
Partway down the path, another would-be savior came running to join us, chains rattling and clanking as he approached. Father Whiston’s hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled exactly as if he’d just rolled out of bed. But the fire was alight in his eyes, just as it was alight in the ornate cage of his censer.
“I thought I heard a commotion,” he said, jogging up to keep pace with me. “Is it the ghouls? Are they back?”
I shook my head. “Orphium is missing. We found a ghoul finger. All signs point to the graveyard, but no blood spilled. We’ve never heard of them abducting victims, have we?”
Whiston huffed and rattled as he ran. “Well, there are known cases. Typically it’s people who offer more value beyond functioning as food. Magic users, for example, or the more uncommon races of Aidun.”
And Orphium was both. The gods weren’t always watching, then. Vahtalla must have blinked. In the end, we feeble mortals had to help our own. My grip tightened around my shovel, my pace picking up. We had to hurry.
The graveyard had never felt more alive. More of the townsfolk had trickled in, even old Redginald, bright eyed and mustachio bushy, already clad in his patchwork armor. It was surprising, yet so heartening to see Riggs take charge, pointing out the traps we’d established around the various crypts and ghoul holes, leading the search by going through his routine of inspections .
Yet still no sign of Orphium. And worse, no sign of ghouls, either. Clues of their presence and activity, yes, but there were none of the creatures on the surface. Over there, a gravestone newly fallen on its side, someplace that a ghoul might have punched through the soil.
But where were they? Where did they take Orphium? More importantly, how did they take him there?
Scabbard whined again, pawing at a spot in the center of the graveyard. I frowned at the grass, knowing from experience that the earth was thick here. And based on the location of the many crypts and catacombs, there was nothing under the soil except for solid stone.
“You want me to dig here, boy?”
And dig he did, working with both paws, tearing up grass and soil. I shook my head, readying my shovel for the work ahead. A matter of urgency, and here I was listening to a dog for further instructions. But stranger things had happened in Barrowdeep.
I reached into my pockets, searching for one of the leather straps I used to tie my hair back. My fingers found something flat and metallic instead. I held my breath.
The coin, supposedly of fae legend, allegedly possessed of great power. But what was it that I’d said to Orphium? If this thing truly was worth anything, why had it only brought me bad luck?
I pulled it out of my pocket, eyeing the raven on one face, flipping it to find the dragon on the other. A foolish time to make a joke, even to myself, but I could make neither heads nor tails of it.
“Your magic is meant to change fate, or so Orphium says. So go ahead. Warp reality in my favor. Prove you aren’t just some useless piece of junk.”
No answer, of course, because it was only a coin. Clods of dirt landed on my boot, Scabbard digging faster and faster, never getting anywhere. There I stood distracted by the glitter and gold when Scabbard was doing all the real work.
“Worthless. Just as I thought. Tell me, oh great coin. Is this at least the right place to dig?”
I flicked my thumb, tossing the coin in the air. It glimmered as it spun. Heads or tails. Would it matter? We didn’t know where Orphium went. Where would I even begin? The coin landed in my palm, cold as it struck my skin. I leaned closer to check. So. Heads or tails? Dragon or raven?
I never found out. The ground fell away beneath me, the earth opening up as if I’d been standing on a sinkhole all along, as if a great mouth hiding beneath the soil had decided it was time to feed.
Scabbard yelped and yowled, barely making it to the edge of the hole, barking from the surface as I slipped down into darkness. Voices shouted after me, but I couldn’t make the words out in the chaos. I screamed to find my mouth clotted with freshly bruised grass and loose dirt.
Down and down I fell, my heart pounding like a Gwerenese drum. This really was happening. I’d spent my days after the fighting burying my friends, and now I was being buried alive.
Somewhere in the swirl of soil and earthworms and roots, the coin fell with me. In as much time as it would take for the people of Barrowdeep to dig up my asphyxiated corpse, someone else would discover the coin. They’d inherit its blighted magic, too.
As I slipped into darkness, as the breath left my body, clarity came at last. I should have guessed. The damned thing was cursed all along.