Of course it's abandoned, Diran thought. What self-respecting evil spirit would want to haunt a newly constructed mill?
"Do you feel it?" Leontis asked. "The temperature is several degrees colder this close."
Diran nodded. He'd noticed. He'd also noticed that now that they stood at the mill's threshold, Leontis seemed hesitant. Diran wondered if he were talking in order to postpone entering.
Leontis went on. "Should we take a light with us?"
If he were going in alone, especially to confront a mortal enemy, Diran would've wanted to use the darkness to his advantage. The shadows are an assassin's greatest ally, Emon had always said. But Tusya had taught him that light could be a powerful weapon against spiritual evil. Besides, if Leontis were to make the most effective use of his bow, it would help if he could see what he was aiming his arrows at.
Diran reached into a pocket and withdrew a light gem-a favorite tool of the Brotherhood of the Blade. Each gem contained a tiny fire elemental that began to glow in response to the touch of a human hand. The gems provided light: not too strong or harsh, just enough to see by without giving away one's presence unnecessarily. In addition, they were small and easily portable, and their light could be shut off simply by closing one's hand or tucking the gem into a pocket. Of course, the gems had their drawbacks, chief among them being how easy it was to lose hold of the damned things. If Diran had a gold piece for every light gem he'd lost over the years…
"I'll go first," Diran suggested, but Leontis shook his head.
"You open the door for me, then I'll go first. If you weren't so tall, maybe I could shoot over you. As it is, you'll be in the way of my arrows."
Diran nodded and Leontis-who already had an arrow nocked and ready-stepped back and raised his bow. Diran held the light gem steady as he took hold of the mill's door handle, depressed the catch, and gently pushed.
The handle tore free from Diran's hand as the door fell inward with a thunderous crash. A cloud of dust billowed forth from the now open entrance, and Diran turned to regard his fellow acolyte.
"If whatever is inside didn't know we were coming before, it surely does now."
Leontis grinned wryly. "I suppose that means the time for stealth has passed."
Diran grinned back. "I'd say that was an accurate supposition."
He stepped aside so Leontis could enter the mill. As his companion stepped past, Diran slipped a silver dagger out of a hidden sheath in his cloak. He'd owned the dagger for years, having acquired it on a job when he was seventeen, when he'd been hired to assassinate a baron in Adunair who'd turned out to be a vampire. It had been Diran's first and only encounter with one of the undead fiends, but he'd kept the dagger, just in case. It had come in handy on several occasions since he'd begun studying with Tusya, and he had the feeling he'd have further need of it this night.
As soon as Leontis had passed across the mill's threshold, Diran slipped inside after his friend with silent grace. The air inside the mill was even colder than outside, and the dust from the collapsing door had yet to settle, making visibility poor, even with the aid of the light gem. Leontis continued holding his bow at the ready, but he didn't loose the arrow. Leontis wasn't one to act on impulse.
Inside, they saw only what they expected: a large room with floorboards warped and broken, sacks filled with old grain piled against the walls, millstone set in the middle of the floor, wooden rods and gears for turning the stone, ceiling beams overhead, missing roof tiles allowing shafts of moonlight to fall upon the dust-covered floor. But Diran noticed something else. The grain sacks had no holes from where hungry mice had nibbled their way inside, no bats hung from the ceiling beams, and there were no spiderwebs anywhere, only strands of cobwebs. There was no life of any kind within the abandoned mill.
"Now what?" Leontis spoke in a low voice even though there was no longer any need to maintain secrecy, but Diran knew the man couldn't help it. The mill's atmosphere of dread inspired one to speak in soft tones.
Now what, indeed? Up to now, Tusya had always taken the lead whenever they'd "bearded evil in its lair," as the old priest half-jokingly referred to it. And whenever they'd done so, the evil had obligingly made its presence known-usually by leaping out and trying to slay them. But it appeared that the evil that infested this place had no intention of being so cooperative.
"I suppose we could always try summoning the evil forth," Diran suggested.
Leontis kept his silverburn-coated arrow ready and swept his gaze slowly back and forth, continuous alert for danger. Diran noted with approval that Leontis's hands were steady, and the tip of his arrow didn't waver.
"And how, pray tell, are we supposed to do that?"
Good question. Diran knew such rites existed in Church lore. Tusya had spoken of them a time or two, and Diran had read about similar rituals during his years at Emon Gorsedd's academy, when-at Emon's encouragement-he'd read widely about all manner of subjects, including the supernatural. But to how those rites were carried out specifically, Diran had no idea. But that didn't stop him from giving it a try.
He knelt down and wedged the light gem into a small crack in the floorboard near his foot. He then straightened and, still gripping the silver dagger in one hand, he reached into his tunic pocket and withdrew an arrowhead. Leontis had once asked Diran why he chose to keep the symbol of his new faith hidden when it was the custom among the Purified to carry their arrowheads in plain sight. Diran had responded that it was a practical decision. Just as with smiling in the moonlight, displaying a piece of silver where light might glint off of it wasn't conducive to approaching an enemy without being noticed. Leontis had seemed less than satisfied with this explanation, but he'd never challenged Diran on it again.
Diran planted his feet apart, raised his hands into the air, and spoke in what he hoped was a commanding voice.
"Spirits that inhabit this place, in the holy name of the Silver Flame, we beseech you to reveal yourselves!"
Diran thought he could almost feel the mill tremble in response to his voice, but no unearthly voices answered, and no undead creatures came charging toward them out the shadows. After several moments passed without anything happening, Diran lowered his arms and looked to Leontis.
"Beseech?" Leontis asked with a raised eyebrow.
Diran shrugged.
Despite the failure of Diran's exhortation, Leontis continued to hold his bow steady. Just because nothing had responding to Diran's summons didn't mean nothing was present. After all, they could both still sense the evil permeating the mill.
"So what do we do next?" Leontis asked. "Tear the place apart looking for hidden chambers? Rip up the floorboards to see if any bodies are hidden beneath?"
Diran thought for a moment. "I say we burn the mill down."
Leontis looked at Diran as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "Are you possessed?"
Diran smiled. "I hope not. If the evil will not come forward to confront us, then it must be because for whatever reason it's hiding from us. So the best way to flush it out is to take away its hiding place."
Leontis mulled over his fellow acolyte's suggestion. "It's worth a try. Given how old this place is, we shouldn't have any trouble getting a good fire going in short order. And who knows? Perhaps by destroying the mill we'll also destroy the evil presence that inhabits it. I'll keep watch while you start the fire."
Diran nodded. He slipped his dagger back into its sheath, then reached into his tunic for his flint and striker. He knew a way to release the fire elemental from the light gem if necessary, but he didn't want to waste the little flame spirit if he didn't have to. But as he brought out the flint, he felt a sudden chill gust of wind waft through the mill and enfold him in its icy grasp.