Bound to the Abyss Read online

  The faces around them weren’t blank now. Open anger painted half of them while the rest had looks of disgust. People further away were mumbling now as well, occasionally pointing and frowning in their direction. Jaslen reached over and tried to get Bran’s attention, but he was oblivious.

  “I may not be part of this village,” Bran continued on, “but I did my fair share of helping out. I didn’t see these so called Seekers anywhere about.” The scratching sound of a blade coming out of a sheath caught Ean’s attention, and he stood so fast he knocked his chair over. He had no idea where the sound had come from, but the feeling of inevitable violence hung in the air.

  “Now, now, no need to get all worked up,” said a woman’s voice from somewhere in the crowd. Ean tried to pick out the direction he had heard the sound from, but with everyone’s attention on them, it was impossible to determine who might have drawn a blade. Almost everyone in the room now was looking in their direction.

  Before anything could happen, the innkeeper’s wife pushed through the crowd and planted herself next to Bran. She was built more like a solid block of stone, not like a soft doughy woman that had eaten too much of her own baking. She glared down at Bran from behind a mop of disheveled black hair.

  “If you ask me, there should be an age limit on Burnbeer. The younger you are, the dumber it makes you. This one is too ignorant to be afraid of Seekers and lacks the good sense to respect the dead. I have a good mind to turn him over my knee and give him a spanking.”

  That got a few nods from the surrounding crowd, but just as many were still giving Bran looks as if they meant him harm. The innkeeper’s wife continued on. “I’ll escort our young trouble-maker back to his room and then the rest of us can go about celebrating in honor of those we lost today.”

  Bran had just been staring at the woman open-mouthed as she spoke, his face becoming redder with each insult. When she was done, he tried to speak. “Now wait just a second,” he slurred. “I am perfectly fine …”

  A loud smacking sound cut him off as the innkeeper’s wife backhanded Bran across the face. The woman moved so quickly, Ean didn’t even think Bran would have been able to dodge or block the blow if he had been sober. The hit was hard enough to knock him out of his chair. A look of confusion crossed his face as he found himself on the floor. The crowd around them erupted into a cheer with many of the men and women standing to applaud.

  With a satisfied nod in Bran’s direction, the innkeeper’s wife turned her attention on Ean and Jaslen. “Now, you better get him up to his room and keep him there for the night. I don’t want to have to teach that boy a lesson again. I’ll even help you get him there.”

  Without waiting for a reply from either of them, the woman reached down and grabbed Bran by the scruff of his shirt. Lifting him up, she held him out in front of her like a piece of rotten trash and began walking him towards the back.

  There was nothing for Ean and Jaslen to do but follow after the woman manhandling Bran. The other patrons of the bar made room for the intimidating woman as she made her way towards the stairs. As Ean and Jaslen followed behind, Ean heard the mumblings of some of the patrons.

  “Just a stupid child that can’t hold his drink …”

  “Last thing we need is the Seekers here …”

  “I heard everyone in Rottwealth is a little crazy. That’s why they never usually come out of their valley …”

  Ignoring their words, Ean focused on keeping up with the innkeeper’s wife. She moved through the crowd easily for such a large woman, especially considering Bran wasn’t a lightweight either. Bran didn’t seem to have his wits about him yet. He was moving his legs, but every time he got close to getting some traction on the ground, the innkeeper’s wife just gave him a little shake. She ended up carrying him all the way up to their room, where she dumped him onto one of the beds. Then without a word, she dragged both Jaslen and Ean into the room, then slammed the door shut. Turning on them both, she jabbed a finger into Ean’s chest.

  “Now, I understand you probably know very little of what goes on outside of your village,” she said in a stern tone, “but that should just make you and your friends more careful of what you say.” She pulled over a chair and fell back into it, then motioned for the two of them to have a seat on the closest bed.

  "If you learn nothing else while out of your village, you should at least know this: The Seekers are a horrible group that answers to no one but the Voice of their temple. Direct agents of Alistar himself, they roam about doing ‘Alistar’s work.’ The things they do, though, make it hard to believe the god of justice would support them. Traveling around, dispensing their own form of justice, disregarding the mayors, village councils or whatever body governs a village.”

  “That sounds just like any other Hero,” Jasmine broke in, “although a bit harsher than any I’ve seen or heard about.”

  “Heroes have their own rules, girl. They bend them every which way, but they never break them. If a Hero steps out of line, you can be sure a pack of them will arrive to put him or her in their place.”

  Letting out a long sigh, the innkeeper’s wife fiddled with her dress before continuing. “The Seekers stand apart from everyone else. The only one that can call them out for their actions is Alistar himself, and I haven’t heard of him ever making an appearance.”

  To Ean, the Seekers just sounded like another form of bully. “And no one is willing to stand up to them? They sound like a small group. If this village could defend itself from a whole pack of raiders, I can’t see why they couldn’t drive out a couple of holy men.”

  The older woman grimaced. “These three people, two men and a woman, are said to be the greatest fighters in the land. Blessed with skills and weapons by Alistar himself, so they say. They have only passed through here once. A group of hunters with a bit too much Burnbeer in their guts thought they could scare the group off. One Seeker killed six of the men on his own while his two friends simply watched. He probably would have killed more if the other man in their group hadn’t stopped him.”

  “Well, of course he beat them easily,” Jaslen replied. “I’ve seen how funny that Burnbeer stuff can make a person.” Her eyes began to wander towards Bran, but she snapped them back towards the woman. “We might even be able to handle six men after they downed enough mugs of the stuff.”

  “No, girl, the men might have gotten a bit of courage from the drink, but they were not in any condition like your friend here. Those men were some of our best with a weapon, even when they were a bit tipsy, and he cut them down in a matter of moments. The other man said a prayer afterwards for them too.”

  She shuddered and rubbed her hands together for a moment before continuing. “The leader and woman seemed regretful that it had happened, but the other man … well, he seemed to find the whole thing funny. Best not to even joke about people like that.”

  “Alright, we get it. They are dangerous,” Ean said. “But what does that have to do with this Scar that we’ve heard about?”

  The woman took a moment to mumble a prayer -- Ean wasn’t sure to whom -- before speaking. “They say that the main reason the Seekers exist is because the god, Alistar, wants to destroy anything that has even the remotest connection to the Abyss. Now I’ve only heard this from a man that heard about it from his sister’s husband, but apparently their leader has a weapon that can absorb and destroy the energies that come from the Abyss. The Seekers go about closing these Scars and then hunt around and kill anything that was touched by the energy that leaks out of it to stop them from spreading the corruption. Even if it’s a person that made the mistake of getting too close.”

  Ean’s thoughts immediately went to the man that he had ‘changed.’ The man had been a cold-blooded killer and rapist, and now he was something even worse. It was a callous thought, but he hoped the Seekers would track him down and take him out of this world.

  “So, I hope you understand now how talking about them can stir up some bad feelings.” Rising to
her feet, the innkeeper’s wife placed her hands on her hips. “Now, with that being said, this will be the last night you will be staying here.”

  “What?” Ean and Jaslen said in unison. “But with everything you just said, we can’t travel north,” Jaslen continued on. “The caravans won’t be leaving for weeks.”

  “There isn’t anywhere else we can stay in this village,” Ean said, almost talking over her. “Where will we go?”

  Stepping up almost directly in their faces, the woman’s tone grew serious. “I suggest that you return home. You have no idea what the world outside of your little village is like, and you are probably better off. Better for you to return home and resume your safe little lives.”

  “Fine,” Ean said, which earned him a silent glare from Jaslen.

  “Glad to see you have some sense. Here.” Moving to one of the dressers, she opened a drawer and pulled out a small sack. “Our healer sent this to you for thanks and said she would find a way to repay you more when she could. I already told her you were returning home so she can send whatever she thinks is right to your village. I’ve packed another sack downstairs filled with more than enough food for your trip home. I’ll leave it at the bottom of the steps when most of the crowd leaves.”

  Tossing the bag at their feet, she headed for the door. As she entered the hallway, she turned, a small smile finally lighting up her face. “I know I have been a bit abrupt with you tonight, but it is for your own good. Our whole village is grateful for what you did and most want to make sure nothing unfortunate happens to you. So be safe and go home.”

  With that she closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them in silence.

  Bran was the first to make a sound, a moan escaping his lips as he lay on the bed. He was on his side at this point, his eyes closed. Ean hoped he would stay asleep until the morning, that way he couldn’t cause them any more trouble. He reached down and picked up the sack. Inside he found a variety of smaller sacks and carefully wrapped bottles. Searching through each, he found various herbs, powders and liquids. Of course none of them contained Rottwealth or Flashseal, but the medicine was far more plentiful than what Cleff had donated for the journey.

  “Ean,” Jaslen said as he examined each of the containers of medicine. “You can’t really think we should just go home.”

  “Home? We are certainly not going home. We’re going to Lurthalan like we planned.”

  “What? You just said that we were going to head home.”

  “I only said that so she wouldn’t keep bothering us. That woman wouldn’t have let us out of her sight if she thought we were going north.” He gave her his best reassuring smile. “And you don’t have to worry about the Scar. I can handle anything that has to do with the Abyss.”

  “Maybe,” she seemed less than convinced. “But what about those Seekers? They hunt anything connected to the Abyss, which I would think includes you.”

  With a sigh, Ean got to his feet. He began pacing the room, pausing only to glance out the window. It was pitch black outside. The villagers must be making an early night of it, at least those that weren’t still downstairs.

  “The Seekers are three people,” he replied. “I’m sure we can avoid them. And who knows how close they are. If we get near the Scar and it seems dangerous, we can turn around and head back or go around them.”

  A small frown tugged at Jaslen’s lips, but she remained quiet. Ean pushed on, trying to reassure her. “I know you’re worried, but I promise if we think it’s the least bit dangerous, we’ll turn around and head back.”

  “Fine,” she said at last. “But I am going to hold you to your word. If I say we turn around, then we turn around. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Good.” She motioned with her head towards Bran, who was sprawled out over the bed in his boots and snoring like a hibernating bear. “But what are we going to do about him?”

  “We’ll let him sleep it off while we pack. We had better get everything ready. I don’t think Bran is going to be any help tonight.”

  Kneeling down, he started to trace the runes to open up his Pocket while Jaslen started pulling out their clothes. He did it without thinking now, his hand moving almost of its own accord. That left his mind free to think about all of the possibilities that these Scars could hold.

  Chapter 17

  MOVING ON

  They took their time packing. Ean had no idea how Jaslen was feeling, but he was wide awake from the excitement of the day and what lay ahead. At one point she went downstairs to get their sack of food, leaving Ean alone upstairs with Bran. The other boy was still curled up on top of his bed, his loud snores filling the room. Ean smiled as he moved about, picking up his things. The start of the trip had been bumpy, but he felt that they had all grown from it. His experience helping the people of Rensen had given him a more optimistic view of the trip.

  Sure, he might have started helping because he had been forced into it, but now he realized that he actually wanted to ease the suffering of people and save lives. The trust those villagers had placed in him, the gratitude he saw in their eyes, had filled an empty space inside of him. He couldn’t explain it, but for the first time in his life, he felt peace about the path Cleff had chosen for him. As long as what he had done to his body and the powers that came with it didn’t get out of control …

  His powers. Ean had never really thought about them as his before. Drawing runes, summoning creatures -- they had all seemed like borrowed skills before. What he had done to that man, changing him the way he did, reinforced that it was a permanent part of him now.

  It frightened him.

  The ability to channel pure energy from the Abyss could cause a number of problems, especially if he found he couldn’t control it. What if he was healing someone and accidentally changed them with the power? What if he was helping Jaslen up and changed her? He could never live with himself if he changed her. He would need to be careful.

  A tingle at the back of his neck made Ean turn around. The door opened and the blur that marked Zin’s presence slinked in. The blur paused in front of the door for a moment, and then the imp materialized into view. He flashed Ean a smile, his lips stained red. Bits of … something … were stuck in his pointed teeth.

  “You really can feel that I’m near, can’t you?” Zin phrased it more as a statement than a question. “Well, what’s our plan now, oh great hero of Rensen? Are we off to another village to puff up our egos, or are we going straight to the city to find a solution to the monster problem in Rottwealth?”

  Ean ignored the sarcasm in the imp’s voice. “Filling yourself up with some of the local rat population, are we?” The imp simply gave him a mocking bow. “Well, regardless, I have a few questions for you.”

  “Oh joy, more questions that I probably have no answers to. I can’t wait to be called a liar some more.” Zin gave a quick glance at Bran and then motioned in his direction. “Are you sure they are questions that you want him overhearing?”

  Shrugging, Ean took a seat on the bed. “He can hear whatever he wants; nothing I want to know matters that much. Besides, he’s had enough Burnbeer to keep him out for a while longer, I think.”

  “Alright then, ask away. Just don’t get mad when I don’t know the answer.” Taking a seat in front of the bed, Zin began to pick at his teeth with a clawed finger. When he dislodged a piece of meat, he stuck it back in his mouth and swallowed it down.

  “I just love how positive you always are,” Ean said. “What do you know about Scars? Rips in the fabric of whatever separates this world and the Abyss?”

  The imp froze, a claw jammed deep in the back of his mouth. He looked at Ean unblinking for a few moments, then slowly pulled his hand out of his mouth.

  “Listen very carefully, Ean,” Zin rarely called Ean by his name. “A Scar is a very dangerous event. If you know about them, that means you heard about it from someone. Is there a Scar nearby?”

  “The villagers have said that there
is one a day or two up the road on the way to Lurthalan. They aren’t sure how long it’s been there.”

  The imp let out an uncustomary growl. Pacing back and forth, the imp’s eyes were squinted and a small grimace showed off some of his teeth. He was mumbling something. When Zin stopped, he swung around towards Ean so fast that he almost leapt off the bed.

  “We have to wait until it’s gone,” the imp said, a finger pointed right in Ean’s face. “We can’t go messing around one of those Scars; it is way too dangerous.”

  "I get they are a connection to the Abyss, but it's not like they could just draw a person in, right?"

  "No, you don't get it," the imp said, clenching his hands together. "They are dangerous because of what they can do to the local animals. They are dangerous because of the men that will do whatever it takes to close them and kill anything else they find even remotely touched by them." His eyes closed for a moment, and he took a few deep breathes. "And most importantly, they are dangerous because it is possible they were created by something trying to come out of the Abyss."

  Ean let it all sink in. The first part wasn't surprising; the innkeeper's wife had said as much, and he had witnessed first-hand how the energies from the Abyss could change something like the troll they had faced. The second must be the Seekers, but how did Zin know about them? Ean was pretty sure that no one in his village knew about them. Unless of course he was talking about someone other than the Seekers, which meant even more potential problems for them. He would have to figure out who Zin meant.

  But it was the third thing that had him really thinking. Creatures could actually escape from the Abyss? His ignorance of the types of creatures that lived there was starting to become a problem. He would have to start prying more information out of Zin as they traveled. It wouldn’t be easy, of course. The imp always found ways to change the subject whenever the Abyss came up. But time for that later.