Ember shook her head, frowning, and said, "I can't recall any rival. If we have such a rival, it is new." The monk turned back to the ambusher with the broken arm. "Help me with this one. The master instructor can question him."
So saying, she grabbed a limp arm, unconcerned that it was the broken one, and Brek Gorunn grabbed the other. They carried their unconscious prisoner down the alley and out onto the street.
Volanth, a trade city, was unremarkable in its architecture. Simple, one-story wooden buildings were the rule. In the residential section, where Ember and Brek were attacked, all was dark save for a few buildings that showed lights behind drawn shades. The Enabled Hand chapter house, their destination, was located on a street called Bridge Place, a walk of little more than a quarter mile. Ember and Brek moved briskly despite their unconscious burden. As in any city, many people were abroad by night, though few paid them any heed. Those who noticed the trio assumed that the human woman and dwarf were helping an intoxicated friend home after a too-boisterous celebration in a local tavern.
As they walked, Ember's disquiet grew. She should have reported back to the chapter house earlier. They had been too busy, too close to what they thought was a lead. Instead of them finding it, the lead had found them.
When they sighted the chapter house, Ember's uncertain feelings woke into outright alarm. Normally, a golden lamp shone above the main entrance. There was no glow now. The lamp was smashed. Ember dropped the arm of the captive and ran forward.
"Ember, be careful!" cautioned the dwarf.
But she was beyond caring. She rushed into the building, past an open door that should have been closed and locked.
Inside, she found a slaughter.
"By the Dwarffather, they are worsted," murmured Brek Gorunn.
The dwarf cleric moved up alongside Ember. She stared in stunned silence. Distantly, she wondered if Brek had secured their captive.
Silence ruled the courtyard. Windows were smashed, paving ripped up, the central fountain was befouled, but worst of all, Ember's fellows lay dead. The destruction and horror were so complete that she half expected to hear echoes of the violence that had raged there, but heard only the splashing fountain and her beating heart.
Ember was strong. Her spirit was fierce and at the same time more disciplined than most others, even other members of her own order. The sight before her, however, was too much, too terrible, too extreme. Brek Gorunn barely caught the monk as she fell, senseless and despairing.
2
Ember woke, but kept her eyes closed. Her head still pained her, but a hollow, deeper ache pulsed through her. Why? For a second, she could not remember. It lasted just that second, and when it passed, she wished she could call that precious moment back.
One thing was clear to her. If she was to survive, emotionally, she must harden her spirit. She must quiet her heart-loss, for now, to discover who was behind the atrocity.
Fainting damsels may be something commoners expect, but I will have no more of it, she mentally vowed.
Spurred by this thought, Ember drew her new resolve around her like a cloak, opened her eyes, and looked around.
Brek Gorunn had been busy-she must have lain unconscious for a few hours. The worst of the horror was cleared away so that she was not immediately faced with the sight of her slain compatriots. She owed the dwarf a debt of gratitude for that kindness. She lay on folded tapestries, apparently procured from a nearby wall by Brek. Near her, the captive ambusher lay securely trussed.
His mask was missing, and his face glared back at Ember with undisguised hate, but he said nothing.
Ember rose, called, "Brek?"
Hearing no answer for the moment, she approached the captive. He continued to glare.
Ember told him, "I suppose you know we intend to find out who you are. You might as well tell me now. Brek Gorunn, my dwarf friend, will not be so merciful as I."
Ember knew neither she nor Brek would stoop to the tactics of evil, but hoped the bluff would have some effect.
It did not. The man just glared.
Ember approached closer, thinking that perhaps she wasn't only bluffing after all.
"The pain you visited upon those here will be returned to you threefold if you do not speak, now!" she yelled, ending with all her volume.
The man's glare gave way to uncertainty. She had him. He knew that she was not the sort to make idle threats.
The captive opened his mouth, and she saw what she had not seen before. The man had no tongue. He would not tell her or anyone anything. Ember shook her head and moved away. She restrained herself from kicking him, though she wanted to desperately.
Instead she looked at the man and said, "You are not worth it. Do you know why? Because cruelty is a tool for the weak."
Looking around again, she called to Brek once more. This time the dwarf appeared from an antechamber, wiping his hands on another piece of shredded tapestry.
"Ember, I'm so sorry. I.. ."The dwarf was at a loss for words.
She shook her head. "Brek, if I am to get through this, mourning will follow after. Right now, we must get to the bottom of the attack. And he-" she pointed to the mute captive-"is useless."
Brek nodded. "He and his friends did seem awfully quiet when we were attacked, except for that one awful voice. Now we know why."
The monk pondered a moment then said, "The red masks' plans may not be limited to the Volanth chapter house of the Enabled Hland. The threat called out by that 'child' did not limit itself to only Volanth. My warning came too late, here, to my eternal shame. But there is something I can do to make up for that. I need to travel immediately to the Motherhouse of the Enabled Hand, to the root of our order. They must be warned. At the very least, I need to report what was done here. I owe that to Kairoth."
Brek raised an eyebrow. "Your old instructor?"
"Yes, him." In fact, Ember had received a letter from Kairoth only the day before. Ember carried Kairoth's letter in her satchel. She and her teacher had maintained friendly correspondence over the years. Kairoth was sa bum mm, an honored instructor in the Motherhouse. He sat with the elders of the Enabled Hand. In his letter, he wrote, among other things, about the recent Day of Fasting. "Kairoth will know what to do, if anyone."
The dwarf said, "You've told me stories about him. Anyhow, what about the local authorities-the Volanth Watch should be contacted."
Ember paused for a moment, then continued. "If we involve the Volanth Watch, valuable time will be lost. A day at least, as we testify to the magistrate-possibly a week. I need to be on the road today toward the Motherhouse in New Koratia. The elders must be warned. We can't spare time here."
"The city of New Koratia is a good distance," mused Brek Gorunn. "But of course the warning must be made. Allow me to join you on the road. After all, I was attacked by these red-masked men while I was in the employ of the order. Plus, Moradin's ire has been pricked," concluded the dwarf, his face grim.
Ember allowed herself a look of gratitude. "Then, let's gather what stories we can from the destruction here, and move out. I suppose I should retrieve the gems in the chapter house treasury and bring them to the Motherhouse."
Brek sighed. "Ember, the treasury is looted. I looked around while you lay asleep. The vault is open and empty."
The monk closed her eyes but said nothing. She mentally moved into the gunnun so gee posture, the walking stance, drawing calm from its strength.
"But," continued Brek, "I also found this. It explains much, while raising even more questions." He produced a small ring. It bore the insignia of a skull and sickle. "I recognize this symbol," Brek said. "It is the sign of the death god Nerull, called the Hater of Life, the Reaper of Flesh, and other more terrible names."