“I don’t know how this could have happened,” said Samael. Henric’s younger uncle had deep bags beneath his eyes, and one of his eyebrows was missing. “But I know I’ve seen this writing before.”
Late that evening, the three male descendents of the late Henric Aldrimar were alone in the Duke’s Office above his castle’s library, his sons pouring over the book that had kept their family’s secrets for nine generations while his grandson sat back and watched the fire. It made the young man uncomfortable reading the words on the page, especially that one.
“Yes, but what does it mean?” asked Zak. “Henric won’t tell me.”
“Neither of you smell that, do you?” said Henric, his eyes never leaving the fire. Ever since he’d woken up that morning he had been catching whiffs of Death everywhere.
“Smell what?”
Henric said nothing as his uncle scanned shelf that lined the back wall. It was filled with books of records going back to the time of the first Zakaran, and Samael pulled one off from about twenty years ago. He dropped the second book on the desk, and started paging through it.
“Yes, here it is!” said Samael.
Henric cautiously made his way over from his chair, careful not to catch a glimpse of the writing in the Book. Sam held one book up to the other, and the similarities were unmistakable.
“But that’s...” said Henric.
“What? I don’t get it,” said Zak. “So he wrote like something in one of the books?”
“These records were handwritten by father,” said Samael.
“Oh. Woah.”
“Woah is right. You really don’t remember how this happened Henric?”
“I really don’t.”
“Hmm... What do you remember?”
Henric took a moment to think about that. “Not much. I was standing on the pulpit, saying the Rites with Father Ulan. He did the oil thing, and then I sat down. Next thing I remember is waking up at a desk, covered in drying ink.”
“Strange,” said Samael. “I wonder if it has to do with the Rites?”
“Could it?” asked Zak. “I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before.”
“Me neither, but that’s just it. The Rites are considered part of the Miracles.”
“But aren’t Miracles just superstition?” asked Zak.
“You haven’t seen what I have,” said Samael. “The monks have done great work inside the walls of Lullus.
“And the Crossing is a Miracle,” said Henric.
His uncles both looked at him in surprise.
“I suppose so,” said Samael. “So I guess we’ve all seen one with our own eyes. Perhaps the Rites did exactly what they were supposed to do. Perhaps some part of our father really does live on in Henric now.”
“You think so?” asked Zak.
“It’s a guess,” said Samael. “But even it’s true, I don’t have the faintest idea what this is supposed to mean. What is Draciat?”
Just the sound of the word made Henric’s head as if it were splitting open and his vision blacked out. “Ah!” he winced.
“Henric?” asked Samael.
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“Don’t say that word,” said Henric. He was on his knees with his hands buried in the rich red carpet.
Zak helped him back onto his feet. “Are you alright?
“I’m fine,” Henric assured him. Zak looked concerned, but Samael seemed to be evaluating him.”
“What happened?” his uncle asked.
“Everything went dark when you said that name.”
“Do you feel alright?” asked Sam.
“Yeah,” said Henric. “But something happened to me during the Rites, that’s the second time I blacked out like that. You really don’t smell that?”
The stench kept coming in whiffs, yet it seemed to hang in his nose. It was the smell of rotted flesh and Death.
“Ardas should have a look at you,” said Zak. “Maybe that assassin knocked you harder than you thought?”
“He already has,” said Henric. “The assassin only managed to give me a shallow cut and a few bruises. Count Arnult is worse off than I am. Ardas says I’m fine.”
“Maybe he missed something,” said Zak.
“No,” said Henric. “Of course he didn’t Zak. If something is wrong with me, it’s beyond Ardas. Speaking of, have you made any progress on the stone splitting he mentioned Sam?”
Samael sighed. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that.”
Henric raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not making much progress, no,” Samael said. “But a friend of mine back and the Unarium confirmed the monks have a record on stone blasting somewhere in the library’s archives, but he hasn’t found it yet. I’m going to have to return to Lullus if I am to continue my research.”
Samael pushed a single finger into the journal’s open page.
“And then there’s this. If we want to more about what happened here, Lullus may have the answers.”
“I was afraid you’d say something like that,” said Henric. “We can begin preparations for your departure next week, but I need your help with something first. Both of you.”
“What is it?” asked Zak.
“I think the Denizen has crossed into Life,” said Henric. “We need to find it, and banish it.”
Zak chuckled. Samael broke a grin, but remained silent.
“It’s impossible Henric,” Samael said. “Without a necromancer to help it across, Denizen’s cannot leave the river.
“I’ve never known you not to take a break Henric,” said Zak. “What you need right now is rest.”
“Besides,” Samael said. “I’ve already ordered preparations. I leave tomorrow.”
“What? You should have talked to us,” said Zak, his face shifting from a grin to a scowl in an instant. He was madder than Henric had seen him in years. Even Samael paled under his brother’s gaze.
“Do you really think it’s a good time to be leaving?” Zak continued. “There was an assassin within our walls three days ago, cracking statues apart with thunder, and you want to leave? When did you become such a coward little brother?”
Henric’s jaw went slack.
“I’m no coward,” Samael said quietly. “I’m-”
“Just trying to run away.” Zak had a murderous look in his eye. He had five years and forty pounds on his brother, and there was nothing Henric could do if it came to blows save call the guards. “Not even thinking about anyone but yourself. Damn it, we buried father and you’re finding any excuse to leave.”
“I made my peace with that years ago,” Samael’s words were tense, his left hand balled into a fist. “He was dead that day the Old King dragged him into the Hall downstairs in chains and forced his surrender there in front of all of us.”
“You made peace with that?” Zak was incredulous. “The memory of your father’s humiliation, our humiliation doesn’t boil your blood?”
“Of course it does!” said Samael. “But who am I to avenge myself on? The Old King is dead. His sons and grandsons are dead, and not by Aldrimar blades. On King Heren for not returning him to us? We led armed rebellion against our kings for half a century, father for almost half of that. It would have been foolish to return him to us. Gareth saw that-”
“Enough!” Henric spoke, but it felt like his father’s words coming out. “Both of you enough.”
With a silent stare the brothers seemed to make their peace and sat.
“Zak is right,” said Henric. “You should have asked me before making plans. It’s my right after all if I’m going to be paying for your attendance, even if I wasn’t also your duke.”
His uncle opened his mouth as if to interject, but Henric continued. “But I’m glad you did. If you can make more progress there, you should go. I want weekly updates.”
“Henric,” said Zak. “You’re really going to-”
“I’m going to miss him too Zak,” said Henric. “I think we should all get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”
The brothers nodded, and stood. Henric closed the book as his uncles descended the stairs to the library. He sat in the overstuffed chair at the desk, and signed. There it was again, the stench noxious, rancid Death.
He breathed deep. There was something familiar in the stench, and when he closed his eyes he could almost see it, the denizen snapping after him. And he knew the Denizen had crossed into life.
