Decoy

They tethered their horses to a post a few blocks from Reeth’s home and move closer on foot. Kaltor’s heart sank when he peeked around the corner and saw the first lookout. A small child crouched atop a building overlooking the street they wanted to turn onto, the veins in his arms and legs pulsing eerily, as if the dark stone of the building had grown into his flesh.

  Maker’s might! Kaltor swore. We’re still two streets away from Reeth’s family! How many Perversions will we have to get around?

  Getting in was the hardest part, as they needed to enter Reeth’s house undetected and take the necessary time to plan a proper escape. It would do no good to attract a horde only to find a family member bed-ridden, or worse, relocated.

  Every few moments the Perversion would look further up the street, as if listening for something. This portion of the city was quiet and partially destroyed, littered with broken carts and the remains of looted buildings. Using skin vision to watch the lookout’s movements, they crossed the street, sprinting from one piece of debris to the other when the lookout glanced eastward. They ended up hiding in an alleyway alongside the very building the child watched from.

  "Well, we could always just kill him," Honmour whispered. "Nice and quiet."

  "Unless there are other lookouts posted nearby who’d see him fall," Kaltor countered. "We would be exposed and pursued."

  "Stick to the alleys, then," Honmour decided.

  They followed the alley to the next street south of the Perversion lookout. Hugging the base of the building, they slowly worked their way down the street, watching for more Perversions at every step.

  Another lookout sat a few streets over, but he faced the castle and another main street running toward it. With a brief flash of color blending, they crept along until they were out of sight behind the next building. They now stood behind the building Reeth’s family occupied.

  Two figures rounded the corner, the sun at their back drawing dark shadows around them to make them even more ominous, forcing Kaltor and Honmour to hug the walls, pushing their color-blending abilities to the limit. The Perversions’ voices were deep and guttural.

  "Two horsemen," one said, spitting something red onto the ground. "Said to watch for spies. Tap into the shadows in case Varadours at hiding there."

  "Spies?" the other scoffed. "Have you seen Marthena’s group? Only a lunatic would try to penetrate her defenses!" Marthena, Kaltor thought. There must be a web-mouthed woman close by. If we could kill her first—

  "I just follow orders. Did you hear about how she killed her husband, even before she turned?" they continued, working their way further down the street, tapping the walls and ground with their quarterstaffs.

  No, he thought desperately. How can we dodge that undetected?

  Glancing Honmour’s way for advice he rolled his eyes. They were both fully blended into the colors of the alley walls, incapable of reading each other’s facial expressions. Briefly drawing on his Varadour power—short-long-long-short—he signaled Honmour to attack if necessary. The Perversions shortened the distance between them in the narrow alley, still tapping stone and brick as they walked.

  The walls of the alley were lined with rusted tools, broken tile from a recent roofing project, and rotting food. A second story window, also boarded up, caught his eye. A simple metal grating protruded from the wall, supporting a couple small flower pots.

  Worth a shot, he thought. One Perversion described a particularly gruesome murder, earning the uninterrupted attention of his comrade. Leaping a few feet off a pile of tiles, Kaltor caught hold of the metal grate below the second window.

  Even as he jumped, a tile beneath his foot snapped in two. Though Kaltor still managed to grasp the grate, the metal groaned beneath his weight. The Perversions froze, quarterstaffs held high, eyes drilling the alleyway for the sound’s source.

  "Broken tile from the roof?" one asked, glancing upward. They continued working their way along the alley much more cautiously now.

  This was where color blending got tricky. No normal Varadour could blend his entire body, so they were trained to work through partial cover, blending only exposed body parts. When facing a patrol or passing guards, you had to shift your power as the enemies’ point of view changed. In his case, he had to hug the grating, leaving his arms and face exposed atop the window sill, while still blending the lower half of his body.

  Come on, Honmour! Kaltor thought desperately. Move!

  Varadour power throbbed constantly from his friend, never changing position. Beneath Kaltor, his enemy’s heads passed under his feet by mere inches. At least I’ll have the element of surprise if we have to fight, he though optimistically. But if they sound the alarm, Abyss knows how many will come after us. That realization diffused his enthusiasm.

  His muscles tensed, his fingertips aching for steel to throw or stab with. The Perversions passed right through the alleyway, tapping wall and road without difficulty. They passed Honmour without any event.

  After they walked another dozen paces, Kaltor released his hold on the metal grate, letting his body fall back to the ground. "Honmour," he whispered. "You okay?"

  It always feels odd dealing with Varadours mid-mission, he thought. I feel stupid talking to a wall.

  Briefly pausing his blending, Kaltor caught a flickering image of his friend lying in the corner of the alleyway, hugging wall and floor in a constant effort to shrink in size. "I’m fine," his tone accusing. "What were you thinking? You almost gave us away!"

  "It worked out okay," Kaltor replied defensively. "You almost got hit too."

  "Fine," Honmour grumbled. "Did you hear about the one they called Marthena?"

  Kaltor nodded. "Killing her is our best bet for buying some time on our way out of here." He turned back toward Reeth’s house, focusing his attention and enhanced Varadour hearing toward their main goal.

  The back door was nailed shut with thick wooden boards, the windows as well. Inside a woman pleaded desperately for someone to stop. A child, a little girl, coughed and cried. A semi-human laugh rumbled through the room. The woman’s cries continued un-heeded.

  They walked cautiously down the alley alongside the building toward the main street. Their bodies melted into the shadows as the Varadours blended, peeking around the corner toward the front of the building.

  Three broad-shouldered Perversions, perhaps former timber men, sat on the small stairs leading into the house. Their axes leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the building, but their relaxed demeanor suggested they didn’t expect to be attacked. A glance further down the street revealed two other lookouts on buildings across the road. These were tall women armed with bows, painted with streaks of black to mimic their own veins.

  "Great," Honmour said sarcastically. "That enough fun for the two of us, you think?"

  Kaltor turned away from the lookouts, trying to find the source of his friend’s concern. Then he saw them. Dozens of vein-pulsing faces stared out over the street from the windows of the building opposite them. Their expressions were bored but with a hint of anticipation, as if awaiting long-expected company.

  Boots pounded in the distance and, hauling two families in tow, another dozen Perversions arrived from the north. The largest of them carried the adults over their shoulders, while the others herded the children like sheep, smacking them with the shafts of their axes if they stepped away from the group. With shouts of glee and animalistic whoops of excitement the Perversions poured from both houses into the street.

  "Kaltor, what do we do? We can’t just watch."

  "We have to get Reeth’s family out of here," Kaltor reminded him. "Stopping Melshek means we stop all of this," He ran his trembling fingers along his armor and weapons. He counted about forty standing in a large circle around their new victims, their shouts and jibes cut short when a trim, web-mouthed woman emerged from the opposite house.

  The Perversions froze and turned her way, nodding as if she were giving some kind of speech, though her mou
th didn’t move. No military force moves with that level of unison. They have some kind of connection, he realized. She can communicate with them better than any Varadour general.

  "Either we try to sneak in now, or we just attack," Honmour said. "I don’t want to watch what they’re about to do. Maybe we can get around to her."

  "You think those forty will all die in a flash?" Kaltor asked rhetorically. "They’d kill us and their prisoners with their dying breath," He glanced over toward Reeth’s house. Those guarding it had joined the other Perversions. The setting sun cast a shadow over the first few feet of the house, like a bridge from Haven itself linking them to Reeth’s front door.

  "I have a better idea," he said creeping along the wall. The shade of the setting sun gave them just enough cover to camouflage effectively. Give the Stunts some time and they can pull the Perversions away from their fun, I hope.

  The front door already hung slightly ajar, and with a small push Kaltor managed to slip inside unnoticed. Honmour followed, both of them still color blending. A twinge of Varadour energy flashed from up the stairs in the center of the house. "Check the bottom level," he whispered, sending his friend into the adjoining living room and kitchen.

  Working his way up the stairs toward the source of the Varadour energy, Kaltor poked his head around the corner and saw a sickly mother tending her shivering child. A table sat beside her, covered in dried dough and a rolling pin.

  It looked like she’d tended to her daughter the night before while she’d prepared her wares for that morning. Her healing powers were weak and untrained, but she ran her hand along her child’s face tenderly, sending what strength she could into her daughter. She turned when Kaltor entered, sensing his power so close.

  Kaltor stopped blending, popping into view. The woman’s eyes seemed only partially interested in the armored Varadour entering her house. They were hollow and pained. He had the feeling that if he said the wrong thing, what little sanity remained in her would snap. He raised his hands into the air, a harmless gesture.

  "My friend and I are here to get you out," he said. "Is that your only child?"

  "It is my only human child," she said faintly, as if still in a dream. "My eldest—"

  Honmour followed Kaltor into the room. "There are three other beds," he reported. "But their sheets are showered with black blood," Kaltor gulped. By the Abyss! he thought. Those Perverted children make my skin crawl!

  Walking forward, Kaltor put his hand to the little girl’s forehead. She was perhaps six years old, and her little body burned with fever. With a deep breath he exhaled, sending a steady stream of healing energy into her body. The little girl’s frame stilled, and she curled up into a ball, pulling the covers around her tightly. It wasn’t enough to cure her, by any means, but it did help to lighten the load on her tiny body.

  The mother cried softly, kissing her daughter’s check. A flicker of life returned to her eyes. "My name is Tera," she said.

  "Kaltor. Honmour," He motioned his friend’s way. She hugged them both in greeting. Screams echoed outside, a child in agony. In a flash Tera bolted to her daughter’s bedside, eyes facing the noise, breathing erratic.

  "Tera, listen to me," Kaltor demanded, pulling her gaze toward his. "We can stop them, but we need your help."

  "M-me?" she asked. "What can I do?"

  Kaltor grinned confidently. Got to raise her spirits a bit. "In a few minutes some friends of ours are going to start a little distraction. Most of the troops will leave. When that happens, I need you to get the woman with web-shaped veins over her mouth in here so we can kill her."

  Tera’s already ashen face turned even whiter. "She’s the worst one. She— she hurt my little boy and ch-changed him."

  Probably one of the lookouts, Kaltor thought grimly. Got to make sure she doesn’t look around when we escape. Not sure what seeing him attacking would do to her. Much less watching us kill him.

  Pointing toward her daughter, Kaltor continued. "If we get her out of here, she won’t change," He pulled out one of his throwing weapons. "But to do that we have to kill Marthena first. When she dies, so will the others."

  Tera perked up a bit at that thought. "Really?"

  "Yes," Honmour answered. "That’s why she’s always got so many of those—things with her." He drew his sword and spun it anxiously a few times.

  "She was always a bad girl," Tera nodded. "They say she killed her husband because he didn’t like how she ran around with other men."

  Kaltor waved the detail aside dismissively. "Well, after today she won’t be able to hurt anyone else," he promised. Their attention snapped to the north. The faintest sensation of Varadour power echoed from the northern portion of the city. Horns sounded an alarm.

  He turned to back to Tera. "You ready?"

  She nodded, tugging at her leather apron self-consciously. "When?"

  "When the other Perversions start to leave," Kaltor said. They followed Honmour out into the hallway. The Battleborn exchanged glances, recalling their training. Honmour walked to the next room, hiding in the shadows between an open door and the wall, only two strides from Tera’s room.

  Kaltor walked down the stairs, testing his weight on the banister with one hand. They nodded to Tera and color blended, vanishing from sight in the poorly lit house.

  Tera headed down the stairs and peeked out the door, waiting until dozens of boots stomped away in unison. "Marthena!" she cried. "Please just a little more. Help me forget my daughter. She’s dead."

  After a few moments, a hissing female voice answered. "Dead, is she? Quite the shame. Melshek would have been pleased had someone finally managed to change one so young."

  "Please," Tera begged, actually managing to shed a few tears. "She’s not breathing. She’s stopped moving, and she’s gone so cold and grey," Nice one, Kaltor thought. You just described a Sage.

  "Show me!" the web-mouthed woman demanded, pushing the door open. A thin silver dagger lay sheathed at her waist, and, judging by her tattered dress, she was not meant to participate in actual combat. She waved over her shoulder and four armored Perversions entered. Kaltor’s breathing accelerated.

  Going to have to take them all, he decided. Honmour has to take her out, and then we can finish off the stragglers.

  Tera hurried up the stairs, putting some distance between her and the Perversions. Marthena, eyes bright with sudden enthusiasm, hurried ahead of most of her guards. Once she passed him, he put one arm on the banister and hauled his weight upward in a burst of Varadour-enhanced strength.

  The sudden movement startled the first guard, who managed to draw his sword halfway before a throwing blade sank into his face, just to the left of his helmet’s protective folds. Kicking off the banister, Kaltor leapt over his first falling victim, throwing another blade from the sheath on his arm.

  The second Perversion swatted the attack aside and climbed over his comrade’s body. Holding one hand over his face, he swung blindly with his mace, trusting to his armor. Nice try, Kaltor thought, leaping feet first into the armored menace’s chest. Hope that metal is heavy. They both sailed down the stairs into the drawn weapons of the other two Perversions.

  Before sailing into the tangle of steel, drool, and teeth, he caught sight of Honmour at the top of the stairs. His sword was deeply embedded in the chest of the last guard on the stairs, leaving him unarmed as he tried to out-maneuver Marthena’s desperate dagger strikes with his bare hands.

  Varadour power and his light armor allowed Kaltor to regain his balance in a heartbeat. Before him the first Perversion struggled to pull his mace out from under his comrades. Without hesitation Kaltor dove into the sunlight from the open door, rendering his camouflage useless. He weaved around behind his opponent, pulling back the Perversion’s helmet and slashing his throat mercilessly.

  The last two howled in rage, their veins surging with newfound strength as they finally saw their attacker. They tossed their former comrades aside and rushed toward Kaltor, spinni
ng dual axes his way.

  Their attack forced Kaltor backward into the next room, drawing on his skin vision to reveal the details of his surroundings as he fled. Two chairs lay in either corner, facing a cold fireplace, a thick floor mat, and a granite mantel piece.

  He spun away from his attackers, drawing his daggers to parry the next blow. Instead of pursuing him, they grabbed the mat he stood upon and jerked hard. Throwing his weight backward, he managed to flip over, landing on the floor in a crouching position. Both Perversions blinked in surprise at his agility, and then tossed the mat into the air, each pulling a corner over his head to tangle him beneath it.

  Spinning in between them, Kaltor sliced a hole in the mat and dove through it, barely weaving through their hasty axe strikes at his rolling frame. Hope I didn’t just waste Selene’s poison, he thought, rolling back to his feet.

  He still sensed Honmour struggling upstairs. Marthena must be a lot stronger than the last one we fought. Got to hurry!

  Landing on one shoulder he rolled back to his feet, barely having time to assess the situation before four axe blades sailed toward him. Their attacks forced him into the far corner of the room. Mounting the arms of a chair, he aimed his daggers for their faces, slashing furiously and forcing them into defensive stances.

  Adrenaline cascaded through his system as he pushed his ambidexterity to the limit. In unison, his attackers swung overhead, throwing all their strength into the attack. Kaltor sprang backward, kicking off the back corner of the wall just as their weapons collided with the chair. Throwing himself over their descending weapons, he plunged both blades toward their faces, tackling them.

  The Perversions turned away reflexively, managing to dodge most of the blades, but he smiled in satisfaction as he felt warm liquid squirt across each of his hands. Even as all three combatants hit the ground, he pulled his daggers away and rolled, letting his momentum carry him to his feet while they struggled to rise.

  He kept his daggers pointed at them cautiously as they rose, eying him with confusion. They felt their faces, glanced down at their own blood, and wobbled unsteadily. The one on the left, a fierce gash in his right cheek, rushed forward. He did not make it two steps before he hit the ground, vomiting intensely.

  The last Perversion tried to run, but even as he left the room Kaltor heard him hit the ground with a thud, the poison driving him into the fetal position as well. Honmour and I will have to agree on a fake story, if Master Taneth learns we cheated with poison. He would force us to train for two days straight, otherwise.

  Suddenly, a yelp of pain echoed through the house, pulling Kaltor from his victory. It was Honmour’s.

  Chapter 20