The Arkanist

The Fallen

Visir looked down at the floor where rivers of thick red crawled along the panels of wood. When could this have happened? He glanced over to Ioden who wore the same grim expression across his dark face. It was an expression of grief and sorrow, but also a sudden recognition. Visir knew, as did the rest of them, they would have to act now.

         Lorad flung open the wooden door behind them with a clap as it slammed on the wall. He rushed in and stopped abruptly when he saw the corpse of Rhas, lying face first on the floor, a dark red hole in his white robes. The fabrics had been stained heavily with the heavy flow of blood and drenched the back as if he had swam in red paint.

         “I came as soon as I heard.” Lorad gasped.

         “As did I.” Said Ioden glumly.

         “Who?” Asked Lorad. “Who dealt this death?”

         “The same who did Ior in.” Said Visir, looking down at the bloodied body.

         “How do you know?” Breathed Lorad.

         Visir shot Ioden a quick glance then kneeled down next to Rhas’s figure and grasped his left arm. He rolled the man over, his hands smeared with blood and his shirt cuffs wet with it. When the man fell on his back, Lorad cursed. Stamped onto Rhas’ bare chest, a red hand of blood dripped like rain down his torso. Under the hand, red lacerations laced together to read, we know.

         “It will not be soon until we share the fate of Ior and Rhas.” Said Visir.

         “Indeed.” Said Lorad. “This cannot go on any longer. Soon enough we’ll all be dead.”

         “We must do something. Something to stop these deaths.” Said Visir.

         “But what?” Said Ioden. “We cannot stay here as we are now. They’ll kill us as they already have. We’ll drop like flies.”

         “We already are dropping like flies.” Said Lorad. “Two of our people have been murdered in the last week.”

         “Then it is clear we must change location.” Said Ioden.

         “Where to?” Asked Lorad. “If we go to the mountains, they will discover our host. If we go anywhere, they will see us leave and slaughter us as we escape.”

         “True.” Said Visir. “We cannot flee. We must stay in Jaahon.”

         “But that is where they are.” Said Ioden. “If we stay it is only a mater of time we die.”

         “Longer than if we tried to run.” Said Visir. “Where is Dockz? Has he left us yet to journey back to the Mountains or is he still here, only fast asleep?”

         “He meant to make for the Mountains on the morrow, ere break of day.” Said Ioden.

         “Then we have been granted luck.” Said Visir. “If he had left, we would have been in deeper danger.”

         “How?” Asked Lorad. “They would have killed him here anyway in time, if he stayed.”

         “They would have followed him, Lorad.” Said Visir. “They would have followed close behind until he led them to the rebellion host and murdered him there along with all our army.”

         “Then we must make sure that Dockz is informed.” Ioden said as he glanced over at Lorad who stood in his silk robes, “Go inform Dockz of Rhas’ death and that he must remain in Jaahon. Return back when you have attained confirmation of his stay and that his horse is set back in the stables.”