23. Ignatius #2
A woman lay in blood-splattered snow, her eyes wide with panic as she scuttled backward from a cloaked figure looming menacingly over her. Iggie shook himself free from his paralysis and rushed to close the gap, shouting and waving his hands.
He expected the threatening figure to bolt now that they had a witness to whatever heinous act they’d been attempting.
Instead, the figure hesitated as if confused.
As Iggie drew closer, his heart sank when he realized why.
There was no mistaking the figure’s skeletal limbs beneath its tattered cloak, nor the pulse of its spirit link in his mind.
He hadn’t been able to discern its presence before with so many of his undead nearby, but it was obvious now.
One of his skeletons had attacked this woman—the recently resurrected Julian if he wasn’t mistaken.
The blood seemed proof enough of that. Yet, that shouldn’t have been possible without direct orders from him.
His only skeletons with anything remotely approaching such commands were Marlon and Cynthia trailing at his back, and those extended only to protect him.
They’d never attack someone in cold blood.
At that moment, the woman’s panicked eyes locked onto his. She started to reach for him, her expression pleading. “Please! You have to—”
She cut off, her eyes widening with horror. She must have gotten a good enough look at him to realize who he was. Either that, or the pair of undead flanking him had given it away.
“No! I won’t let you turn me into one of your abominations! Someone, please, help me!”
Cursing his own lack of tact, Iggie issued a silent command to Marlon and Cynthia to keep their distance and slowly approached the woman, holding up his hands.
“It’s all right, miss. I won’t hurt you. I swear. Here, let me help you.”
But either she didn’t believe him or had been struck dumb with terror because she ignored him, continuing to cry for help.
Muffling a sigh, he glanced at her wound and found a shallow gash on her chest. Julian must’ve swiped her with a bony hand.
It didn’t look too bad, just a surface-level cut, but he couldn’t tell for sure at this distance, especially when he couldn’t study it for more than a few seconds at a time without the sight of blood making him woozy.
Heavy footsteps pounded the snow, and Iggie turned to find a bulky figure running toward them from deeper in town.
They must’ve heard the woman’s cries and come to investigate.
Iggie knew who it would be even before Alistair skidded to a halt.
His armor glinted in the light of his dawnflame as he held up a glowing hand to survey the scene.
“What happened here? Is anyone hurt?”
Alistair’s arrival seemed to reinvigorate the woman. Her eyes locked on the flickering dawnflame, and she hobbled to her feet, stumbling through the snow to cower behind him. She pointed a trembling finger toward Iggie.
“He attacked me! Him and his ghouls!”
Alistair didn’t immediately respond. Iggie watched the paladin’s gaze flick from the blood-stained snow, to the undead standing nearby, to Iggie himself. His brow furrowed as if he were struggling to process what he was seeing.
Iggie swallowed, his gut twisting. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Then, he paused, because it sort of was. He hadn’t meant any harm to the woman, of course, but it seemed pretty cut-and-dry that one of his undead had. If Iggie hadn’t intervened, Julian might’ve done more to her than leave a single shallow gash.
Alistair must’ve sensed Iggie’s uncertainty, because he quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me what happened.”
He’d directed the question at Iggie, but it was the woman who answered. “I was out walking, minding my own business, when I ran into one of his minions. It attacked me and might’ve killed me if I hadn’t managed to fend it off. I lost my footing in the snow and cried out for help.”
She narrowed her gaze on Iggie, stabbing a finger toward him like a blade.
“Then, he came running. At first, I thought he was there to save me, but once I realized who it was, I knew the truth. He’d come to finish the job his minion started so he could turn me into one of his unholy puppets!
Thank the Light you arrived when you did, Sir Alistair, or I’d have surely perished. ”
Something she’d said niggled at Iggie’s mind. He mentally scoured her words, searching for any discrepancies. When he remembered the unexplained jolt he’d experienced right before the first scream, everything clicked into place.
He turned to the woman, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when she shrank further behind Alistair. “What were you doing out here in the first place? This area was cleared hours ago.”
“I don’t need to explain my comings and goings to you, fiend!” the woman said in a quavering voice. “I should be able to take a nice stroll without fearing for my life or soul!”
“So, your presence here had nothing to do with glimpsing one of my undead up close?”
The woman’s hesitation offered proof enough to Iggie that his hunch had been correct, even if she’d never admit it. Why else would she be here when she’d been explicitly warned away?
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she repeated sullenly after a lengthy pause. “My being here doesn’t give you the right to attack me.”