“We’ll see about that,” Eli said, but he waved off his own comment when Devin fixed him with a curious stare. “Well then, shall we go see what Kaelariel’s people have to say?”
“Yeah, let’s just hope we don’t get mixed up with undead in all this,” Kari said, and she rose to her feet. She saluted Devin again, and Eli bowed his head.
“Farewell, Lady Vanador. We will see to warding the inn right away.”
With the sun retreating rapidly toward the western horizon, Kari and Eli walked over to the temple marked with the winged focus: Kaelariel’s church.
12
The Wolf’s Hour
Twilight had settled in by the time they left the warm confines of Kaelariel’s church. The church itself was tiny compared to the one Grakin and Kyrie served in back home in DarkWind. This one served as a small gathering place for prayer, where the priests could offer aid and alms to the poor and widowed. It was staffed by serilian-rir, though that wasn’t unusual for Kaelariel’s churches; service to him came easily to those who were of both cultures.
It was, however, quite unusual for a city that had “banned” serilian-rir. The priests had explained they were among the only permanent exceptions made—and then only so long as they confined themselves to the temple district or work at the cemetery. The serilian-rir priests were warriors as well and, as Devin had hinted, their service was as much to root out and destroy undead threats in Southwick County as to spread the word of Kaelariel. Kari supposed that was the type of help even Kaelin Black could appreciate…
The head priests, Piotyr and Deirdre, were half-elite, and had taken a great interest in Eli. Kari was surprised, since half-corlypsi were typically looked down upon by other serilian-rir; she supposed the fact that they were priests of Kaelariel had a lot to do with it. Kaelariel was bringing all of the serilis- and serilian-rir into his fold where possible, and Kari expected the god of freedom was trying to stamp out the rivalry and racism among his own charges. Still, she got the impression that where Piotyr and Deirdre were concerned, it was more that they were people of strong character and they based their judgments on reality rather than preconceptions.
Kari, Eli, Piotyr, and Deirdre had traded stories about their experiences combating the undead. Kari had rarely encountered undead in either of her lives, and even when she had, it was typically the most basic sort: zombies. She was never fazed by the walking dead, since in the end, they were just corpses that were harder to disable. There was little intelligence behind the actions of zombies or animated skeletons, so Kari found herself less scared than angry when she encountered them. To her, it was unfathomable that someone would disturb the dead, whether it had any effect on the soul’s rest or not. That was a sentiment she’d developed before she’d even died and been brought back against her will.
The stories Eli and the half-elite priests had shared were far scarier to Kari. It turned out Piotyr and Deirdre had heard of Eli and his companions because they’d battled a wraith in the barrows outside of DarkWind. Wraiths were like ghosts in a sense; both were disembodied spirits that lingered on after death. Wraiths, however, were far more terrifying, possessing malice and a hatred for all living things that rivaled that of the most depraved demons. They were one of Kari’s biggest phobias where enemies were concerned, as ghosts, wraiths, and specters were incorporeal and had no physical form to fight. Weapons passed through them, and they could likewise pass through armor and even one’s body, leaving a cold behind that sapped the life out of a person. It gave Kari shivers just to think of facing one.
Eli’s tale did little to dispel her fear of such creatures. As he’d recounted his experience, he freely admitted the one his party had encountered drew the heat and life right out of him, and he hadn’t regained consciousness for several hours after the creature was defeated. In the end, he explained, it had been the faith and the strength of their party’s priestess, Danilynn, that had destroyed the creature utterly. The group’s weapons and magic had failed to harm or even slow the creature down except for one type: light sources.
Piotyr and Deirdre had acknowledged the usefulness of strong, warm light sources against all types of incorporeal undead. They’d said that in a worst-case scenario, simply keeping strong light sources handy—even just a massive bonfire—could keep the evil spirits at bay until sunrise, when they would be powerless and disperse until nightfall.
Kari was glad to know there was something she could do to chase such foul spirits off, assuming her weapons would be of little use. When the priests had seen Kari’s swords, though, they said it was possible that her weapons could harm the incorporeal undead, as they were apparently an angel’s blades.
Kari hoped she’d never have cause to find out either way.
Piotyr had assured her that the local cemetery had never seen anything worse than zombies and skeletons. Piotyr and Deirdre had spent a while detailing the most recent events. There had been several disturbances in the city’s graveyard over the years, but the most recent one was different. They explained that it was not all that unusual for necromancers to practice their trade in the cemetery, raising corpses and exercising their will to try to enslave the undead.
This latest time, however, whoever had disturbed the dead had drawn the attention of a local pack of werewolves, and pandemonium had erupted when lycanthropes were discovered within the city. The priests had explained that the werewolves returned to the plains when confronted, but they’d also said a necromantic ritual attracting werewolves was as alarming as it was puzzling—particularly since the necromancer had yet to be caught.
Eli had then told a short tale about his party coming into contact with a pack of ravenous werewolves while on a mission for Bosimar. Kari was astounded by how many creatures and demons the warrior had faced; it seemed no matter what came up in conversation, Eli had a tale about fighting one. His tale about werewolves didn’t provide any clues as to why lycanthropes might be drawn to a necromantic ritual, though. In fact, by his recounting, he and his friends had battled the beasts by daylight.
Most common tales and legends tabbed werewolves as creatures of the night, enslaved to the will of the phasing moon; they were considered insane by civilization’s standards. Many of those tales were old folklore brought to Citaria by the humans, though, and since Citaria had three moons instead of just one, it left a lot to speculation with regard to lycanthropes.
Kari knew the Beast—the deity of shapeshifters and lycanthropes—had werewolves among his followers. It was said many of them had mastered their curse but were still far from welcome in society. They kept to the wilds of the Great Forest and the hills, where they could live and hunt and avoid contact with other civilizations. Kari had always found it interesting that the Beast was the god of lycanthropes and shapeshifters; what other types of shapeshifters were out there?
When the four were finished trading tales, Eli and Kari had taken their leave, and made their way to the cemetery to do their own investigating.
“So, we’ve got assassins, demons, necromancers, and werewolves all involved here,” Eli recounted as they strolled toward the graveyard, where they hoped to find clues to whether the necromancer might be mixed up with the succubus. “Now we just need a vampire to show up, and we’ll have a nice little miniature apocalypse.”