Told In Stone Chapter 4: Failure

Antoinietta picked up the tattered remains of the boys uniform, running a finger over the name stitched in black thread. “Edward Vaughn,” she murmered.

The young man strapped to the apparatus stirred, straining weakly against his bonds, his skinny back exposed and drooling around the gag that muffled his groans. She took his hand, turning it slowly so that the light of the forge caught the silvery scars that marked him as Leybound.

“Be strong for me, Edward, and you will power you could only dream of,” she said.

Hemler shuffled around nearby, setting his instruments in neat rows, polishing others, placing another lump of dark coal into the furnace with the painstaking care of the elderly. The the top of his bald head was mottled with liver spots and flaking skin and age had curved his spine so severely that each time she saw him she instinctively drew back her shoulders and stood straighter as if being a humpback was contagious.

“What are you doing now?” Antoinetta snapped.

“Final checks, my lady,” he assured her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Checks, always more checks, more calculations and measurements and guesswork and theorising. The dull red of the walls was bleeding into her senses, she must escape this place, this red hellscape. “You’ve had long enough, Hemler, you will begin.”

“But my lady.”

“Bind him, now!”

The old Faelen muttered something in his own tongue and took up a silver instrument with short handles joined at a pivot point that allowed curved blades to slice together. The gag muffled the boys moans, and then his screams, as the metal flashed and scored out a neat circle of flesh the width of an apple at the base of the boys neck between his shoulder blades. White, living bone flashed for an instant before blood pooled.

Let this be the one, Antonietta prayed. Let this be the one so that I might leave this accursed land.

Hemler returned from the forge clutching a pair of long metal tongs which held a stone crucible that spat molten flecks. The material was rare, but rarer still were the Leybound. After this boy they had one more, for now. But Antonietta did not allow herself to think on the price of failure. This would work, the boy had a strong leyline, she had shielded him herself and the thought pleased her, the Arcanists would shit if they knew a woman use the arcane and was versed in their closely guarded secrets.

The crucible rotated and the chamber filled with the stench of burning flesh and bone and molten rock. The boy screamed for a few torturous seconds, the veins on his head and neck bulging, before he lost consciousness.

Antonietta leaned forward, ignoring the sharp tang of burned flesh.

Hemler lay his hand on the already cooling disk and dark red leypower poured from his palm. The boy woke now to some fresh hell and his body stiffened and shook as the old Faelen swayed on the spot and then staggered, steadying himself on a table.

The dull red disk clinked as it cooled, the runes on its surface flickering with the burning red of the Faelen leylines.

“Well, did it work?” Antonietta demanded.

Hemler cautiously reached over and lay a long finger on the neck of the boy. “He is still alive,” he announced.

Antonietta felt a hot flush of elation. She would go to him immediately. The thought made her tremble, imagining him laying a hand on her shoulder, his deep voice telling her she had done well, she had pleased him. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Hemlers gave a thoughtful hum as he prodded at the cooling disk fused to the boys back and Antonietta’s eyes snapped open.

“What is it?” She demanded.

“Ahh, my lady, he is alive, which is progress in and of itself, but the binding has not been successful.”

Antonietta gripped the edge of the workbench so hard one of her fingernails snapped off, embedded in the wood. “Then bring in the next one.”

“My lady, I should make some adjustments, the next subject is the last Leybound we have–”

“Send for him,” she snapped, moving away to a raised viewing area and sucking her bleeding finger.

The last Leybound prisoner was dragged in by two Cetics, placed on a second curved apparatus and secured. The monks looked around curiously, glancing at the prone boy and then to Antonietta before Hemler dismissed them.

Antoinetta held her breath as the silver instrument sliced, the crucible poured the hissing rock into the cavity on the mans back, and the Faelen leyline pulsed.

All was still and there was a pause, before. “He is dead, my lady,” the old Faelen reported.

Antonietta screamed. The arcane power was weak here, but her anger drew in every last mote from her surroundings. She formed a working working of blade and air and sent it with all her rage toward the still bound corpse. The ley power eviscerated the body, sending pieces of it flying in all directions. “I want results!” She screamed, and stalked from the chamber.

Antonietta stepped out from the catacombs and took a deep breath. The air up here was just as stale as down there, but she had to get the stench of burned flesh out of her nose.

Across the main courtyard, horses stamped in the stables. So Foral-nar had returned. Horses, a few of their monks shuffling around, but no Leybound in sight. The spectre of failure rose up in her like bile.

The monastery doors were barred, and so she made her way back into the catacombs, following the twisting pathways until she placed her ear carefully to a small wooden door.

From inside she heard the rhythmic sound and knew it to be the sharp sting of leather striking flesh.

So he was punishing himself again? She had to hope that it was for some other sin than the shame of failure. Let it be that he had impure thoughts, anything but failure to bring her more Leybound.

Antoinietta flicked open the top two buttons of her shirt and raked her fingers through her hair. She bit her lips savagely and felt them plump up as blood rushed to them. She panted, and pushed open the door.

Foral-nar knelt on the hard stone floor. He was naked, his skinny body illuminated by the light that flooded through the coloured glass window high above him. His back was a ruin of scars and fresh cuts, covered by clotted blood. His hand fell to the side and a wooden handled whip fell from it, the leather thongs vivid red with blood.

“Might I help to dress your wounds, my lord?” Antonietta spoke in the tone of a maid she had once had. A petty, vapid creature with an empty brain.

Foral-nar stiffened slightly at the sound of her voice, grasping at the clothes around him to cover his modesty. “You should not be in her, Lady Anne. This is a sacred place for those sworn to the Cetic order.”

“Forgive me, I was anxious to know that you were unharmed. Was the battle terrible?” Antonietta fetched clean strips of linen and filled a wooden bowl from a large stone font.

Foral-nars voice broke slightly. “It was like nothing I have seen before. Death everywhere, Faelen fighting Faelen. The Leybound abominations, and Wikkan. There was a Warcaster.”

Behind Foral-nar’s back, Antoinetta rose an eyebrow, now that was news. “How do you know it was a Warcaster?”

“She opened a portal to the accursed lands and evil creatures emerged. Thirty of the bothers were killed. We barely escaped with our lives.”

A Warcaster operating in the open was unprecedented. There would be uproar, chaos in the ranks of the Wikkan and the Arcanum, chaos she could exploit, but instead she was stuck in this red hell with these monks.

Antoinetta began to gently mop the blood from his back. He was so skinny that the lashes had cut through the skin almost to the bone and the water was soon a deep red.

“The Leybound?” she prompted.

“They were where you said they would be. Alone and unprotected. We took six of them before the Warcaster arrived, but after her attack we had only two.”

Antonietta pressed the rough linen hard against one of the deeper wounds making Foral-nar gasp and flinch. “I’m just thankful that you have returned so that we can continue our work.”

Foral-nar reached for a thin robe and pulled it around him and stood facing her. Antoinetta remained kneeling before him, her face turned up wearing what she knew was a look that radiated a pious innocence.

“These two might be the last, Lady Anne. We lost many horses, and I will not take any more of the Cetic into that place.” Foral-nar turned to gaze up at the stained glass window. “I find my faith wavering. So much so that I have considered contacting the other septs to seek guidance.”

Antonietta controlled the spasm of anger that marred her face, adopting the soft, stupid features once more. Approaching Foral-nar she stood before him, gently pulling his face down to meet her gaze. “I have faith in you, Foral-nar. Or I would not have travelled here to seek your help. The abominations must be eradicated and the leylines cleansed. I am close to discovering how to reverse the mutilation and the two Leybound you brought will be the final piece of the puzzle.”

She saw the pain in his eyes, that was good. She also saw the longing, that was better. His gaze flickered to her chest briefly and she knew he would likely need to give himself another few lashings just for that.

“Did you deliver my message?” She asked.

Foral-nar reached into his robe and pulled out a tightly wrapped message, sealed with wax. “This is from your order?” He asked.

“Yes, I told you that there are others that believe that leylines have been infected by the Leybound. This message might hold the information I need to remove the binding from them. Where are the Leybound now?”

“They have been taken into the cells catacombs,” he said. “Perhaps if you are willing. You might dine with me this evening?”

Another dull evening of forcing conversation while Foral-nar tried obstinately to suppress his attraction to her.

“I should continue my work, we are close to the end now,” she replied.

Once the door was closed behind her, Antoinetta leaned against it and scrabbled at the wax seal, pulling open the message and reading it under the weak light of an oil lamp.

The words sent a shiver through her. Anticipation, mixed with fear so tangible she could almost taste it. She had been summoned. She tore the note to shreds as she stalked through the catacombs anxious to make sure she had something to report.

Deeper in the catacombs, Hemler slouched close to the heavy metal bars of a cell, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“Well?” She demanded.

“One of them is very old. Too old to waste the binding rock. The other one perhaps too young,” Hemler explained.

The two ragged prisoners wore tattered blue uniforms. One of them looked like a wizened monkey with blue ink tattoos scrawled over his wrinkled skin. The other was no more than a boy, hugging his knees, his cheeks wet with tears.

“We’re prisoners, we want food and water. Who’s the commander officer here?” The old one demanded.

“You there, boy. Have you mastered your leyline?” Hemler asked, ignoring the older man.

“Name and number that’s all you’ll tell them boy,” the old man cautioned.

The arcane leypower was even weaker here in the deeper tunnels but her working was a simple one of air and she found the small amount of power she needed.

The older prisoner watched her hands move, his eyes wide. “But, you’re a woman?” He gibbered.

The working wrapped around the heads of the two Leybound and they clutched at their necks and dropped to their knees, their faces turning purple as they suffocated and fell unconscious. “Try the boy first, then the old one. The Arcanum hold the gateway and I’m leaving tonight, when I return I want results.”