Chapter Eleven
Constructs and Sentinels were different.
The company was in a neighboring village, south-west, possibly conquered a few days prior.
Seraphina and Idris followed the troops’ tracks and found their camp before nightfall.
The soldiers had occupied the church, the tavern, and some of the largest farmhouses.
There were sentries on the roads in and out, so they left the cart in the woods and approached on foot.
Idris led the way, since he could see perfectly in the dark.
Seraphina had scolded him thoroughly and not let up until he took Saint Vivia’s relic out of the medicine chest and slid it onto the plain cord around his neck that held a small, metal cylinder.
That reminded her of the crucifix Matteo had given her, which she didn’t have anymore.
The Watch in Ingolstadt had taken it when they’d thrown her into prison, and it was lost forever.
They stayed low and observed from a distance. It wasn’t snowing anymore, but no one wanted to be outside, so the village was silent. There were lights in the windows, and the tavern was packed with men celebrating today’s victory. Aside from the soldiers on patrol, there was no other movement.
“That one,” Seraphina said, pointing at a young man kicking at a mound of hardened snow. He seemed cold and bored out of his mind. “Easy target.”
“All right.”
“Let’s get this done quickly. I want us to be back on the road in an hour.”
She hoped it would take them less than that, but she tried to keep her expectations reasonable. The thrall relic should ensure there were no obstacles, but one could never know. The bone vibrated gently in her pocket, as if sensing it was going to be put to work soon.
Seraphina straightened her back and stepped out of the shadows, approaching the sentry confidently. The man saw her and trained his musket on her.
“Stop right there. Who are you?”
Seraphina raised her hands and slowed her pace. Just a little closer.
“I said stop.”
He was being too loud. A few more steps, and she calculated she was at a serviceable distance.
“You,” she said as she wrapped her hand around the vomer bone. Its power slithered up her arm. “Lower your weapon.” The soldier did so. “Be quiet and lead me to where the revenant is kept.”
He nodded, turned on his heel, and just like that, Seraphina and Idris were on their way. No fuss, and very little danger. If anyone showed up, she would order them to go back inside and not say a word. No one had to get hurt.
Except her. The toll would punish her later with dreams of this man being made to give up his company’s greatest advantage. She wondered how much worse the nightmares would get once she had the revenant in thrall. And held him in that state.
They were led around the village, not across it, toward the outskirts where a farm stood isolated from the other houses, its windows dark.
The walk took twenty minutes, and they didn’t encounter anyone.
The soldier opened the barn doors and stopped there, not turning to look at Seraphina and Idris.
He stood frozen, gaze fixed ahead, eyes empty.
When she stepped in front of him and waved a hand, he snapped to attention, waiting for another order, but other than that, he was more compliant than her previous victims. This one wasn’t fighting her and didn’t look desperate, either.
She wondered what was different. Was he weaker of mind?
Easier to influence? A theory to be pondered later.
In the middle of the barn, there was a wooden crate, big enough for a bear.
Seraphina remembered the show that had passed through her street in London when she was five or six, the bear inside a crate just like this one.
She remembered the smell of the animal through the slats, sour and heavy, and the way the crate had creaked when the bear shifted its weight.
She’d not been afraid of it. She’d wanted to touch it.
There was no bear inside this crate, though.
The hinged door at one end was reinforced with iron banding, secured by two padlocked hasps and a heavy iron bar dropped across the middle.
“Do you have the key?” Seraphina asked the soldier, not expecting an affirmative answer.
“No. The captain has it.”
Idris stepped closer and ran his hand over the iron bar.
“Why doesn’t he just break out?” he asked.
The man didn’t answer. Seraphina had to tell him to.
“I don’t know. He only responds to the captain and does what the captain says.”
“When the captain opens the crate, what does the revenant do?” Idris continued his inquiries.
“He stands there, waiting for the captain’s orders.”
Seraphina and Idris stared at each other for a long moment, considering this information.
The soldier knew little, but he was still plenty useful.
Seraphina instructed him to grab an axe or a crowbar, whatever he could find, and break the padlocks, while she and Idris stepped out of the barn.
If the revenant was violent once he was freed, he would reach for the poor man before he even noticed them.
Seraphina would have time to snap the first command at him, hopefully before he tore the man to pieces.
He struck the first padlock once, twice, three times before it bent and gave way.
He moved to the second. No movement or sound from inside the crate.
Seraphina wondered if the revenant was even in there, but the soldier wouldn’t have brought them here if he weren’t.
She rubbed the bone in her pocket. It wouldn’t betray her, would it?
It gave a shudder, as if to reassure her. No. Never.
The man lifted the iron bar, opened the door, and stepped aside.
The Sentinel was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his hands resting easily on his knees.
His head was low, striking white hair falling like a curtain around his face.
He was clean of all the blood he’d spilled hours before and fully dressed in a pair of wool pants and a black tunic.
He wore sturdy boots and a heavy cloak on his shoulders.
He was breathing evenly, calmly, as if completely unbothered by what was happening around him.
Seraphina reached for Idris’s hand. It was an involuntary gesture. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but not this.
The revenant raised his gaze slowly, his golden eyes studying them impassively. Still, he didn’t move.
A current went straight through Seraphina. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Idris squeezed her hand, bringing her to the present. Why was she hesitating? She was supposed to be fast, not risk hers and Idris’s life like this.
“You.” The thrall relic sent waves of power through her body.
The certainty that she would be obeyed bubbled in her chest, rose in her throat, and spilled through her mouth as she spoke the next words.
“You will do as I say. You will not attack anyone unless I tell you to. You will not move unless I command it. You will not speak or make a sound unless I allow it.”
The revenant tilted his head and regarded her just like before.
From where she was standing, she couldn’t tell if anything had changed.
She took a step forward, releasing Idris’s hand.
When he wanted to follow, she motioned for him to stay behind.
Deep within, she knew the relic had worked.
But something wasn’t right. She had to test it.
“Stand up,” she said.
The revenant did not.
“Stand up and walk out of the crate.”
The revenant’s lips curved into a smirk.
Seraphina was confused. He wasn’t obeying her, but he wasn’t attacking either. She could see the black threads that held his skin together. This was the creature that had slaughtered an entire village. He was a vicious beast, she knew it. Why wasn’t he behaving like one?
“Speak,” she tried again.
“What do you want me to say?”
His voice was low and measured. Not a baritone as deep as Rune’s, but grave enough that its vibration crawled under Seraphina’s skin and made her feel untethered. She imagined a hundred gaping graves, all pleading in a single voice for the remains they’d been robbed of.
“How are you not compelled to obey me?” she asked.
“I am, but there’s something stronger keeping me here. I’m afraid I can’t join you outside of my prison.”
Seraphina frowned. She felt Idris by her side and didn’t push him away, judging they were safe for now. She’d known not to hope too hard for this to be easy. What a conundrum it had turned out to be.
“Will you tell me what it is?”
He turned his head to the right, his gaze lifting to where the ceiling joined the wall.
“Lattice,” he said.
She and Idris stepped closer and leaned in just enough to see without breaching the boundary of the crate.
The lattice was a disc of dark wool, roughly the span of an outstretched hand.
A circle of twelve bone shards contained a hexagon inside it, which in turn contained a triangle.
In the middle, the keybone stood upright from the cloth.
This shard was longer than the others, thinner, and honed along both edges to a hard point.
It wasn’t perfectly white. It looked like something had stained it.
The weaver had used pale-colored thread. Seraphina could spot no kill-stitch.
“I’ve never seen this pattern before,” she said.
“What do we do?” asked Idris.
Seraphina shrugged and looked at the revenant.
He was studying her with a little more interest than before.
She felt her hackles rise. Not because he was menacing.
If she ignored the stitches and the unnatural color of his eyes, glowing in the semi-darkness, he looked like a normal man.
What unsettled her was the contradiction between who he was now – wearing clothes, trapped in this crate – and who he’d been out there, unleashed.