Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 141: Under Siege

Naereni

I darted down one of the empty streets, my breath coming in spurts as I tried to ignore the smell of smoke in my nostrils. The sky was alight with an angry orange glow as fires burned in the long distance, the tinge silhouetted against the night. I skated on boots of ice, nearing the end of my alleyway. I engaged my recently upgraded crest, brushing my hand against the edge of the building as I whipped to the side.

A frosty glyph shone where my palm had touched. I knew it wouldn't be noticed.

Come on, I thought with an undercurrent of terror. You want to chase me, don't you?

In truth, I didn't know if my spell would do anything worthwhile. But I had to try.

I spun on my feet, a dagger of ice coalescing on my palms as I felt that horrible mana presence barrel through the alleyway. My arms shook as I prepared to spring my trap.

A vicar burst from the alleyway, his black and red robes fluttering. Lines of red and green traced his skin, disturbingly familiar patches of malformed blithestain spreading along his skin. He grinned, a horrid mist seeping from between his teeth. The sickly emerald vapor churned as red veins pushed it on, the swirling substance drawing memories to the surface.

I saw my dad, years gone now, slowly collapsing on the floor of our meager apartment. A needle in his arm, the green contents drained entirely. I'd shaken him, asking him to wake up. To stop sleeping. I was hungry, after all.

I hadn't known. Not until the next day when my dad still hadn't woken up. And then he'd grown cold. Colder than any spell I could make.

"You should stop running, Rat!" the vicar mocked. "Drink of our elixir! Stop fearing your final peace!"

He'd been chasing me for the last few minutes after what he'd done to poor John, one of Bloodstone Elixirs' guards. I'd watched as the mist seeping from the vicar's mouth had enveloped the man I'd known, leaving behind a blithe-broken body that spewed more of that same horrid toxin. So that it would continue the cycle.

John was one of the better ones. He knew what it was like to grow up on the streets, to fight for every drop of food. I'd stolen a few of his silver buttons, but he hadn't minded. In turn, he'd helped mediate disputes between the people of East Fiachra fairly. He hadn't deserved to become what this vicar made him.

"I'd say the same for you!" I said, my voice strained. I threw the dagger I was holding at the vicar. He smacked it out of the way, but it left a shallow cut. The dagger embedded itself into the stones nearby. "You've gotten slower since you murdered John! Why don't you lay down and rest?" I said in turn.

The vicar took a step forward. I threw another dagger, putting on a mask of fear as I backed up. It wasn't entirely feigned. Once again, the vicar smacked it to the side. That horrible gas moved independently of the man, trying to reach my lungs and change me, too. I was far faster than it, but I needed to end this before the gas spread further.

Good, I thought, my eyes darting to the side. My frosted mark glowed behind the vicar.

"I give my body to glorious purpose," the vicar snarled, flexing his fingers. "Mardeth is going to make us all ascend into something better! And soon, you shall join us, too," he said, taking a step forward.

"I'm afraid I'm going to decline," I said. Then I clapped my hands together.

The rune I'd left marked on the wall erupted with thick chains of ice, the whiplike cords streaming with high notes as they clinked together. They shot forward with purpose, beelining for the vicar.

The man turned slowly, trying to batter away the icy chains. Yet they dipped under his arms, wrapping his body and anchoring themselves to the daggers left embedded in the stones. The vicar struggled, straining against my spell. I grit my teeth, holding my palms together in concentration. My chains cracked.