Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [157]
He began to sob helplessly at what a monster he’d become.
“Try and forget it,” Tryst urged. “You need to concentrate on your work now. Concentrate on those Council murders.” Then he paused. “Maybe she’ll forgive you, in time.”
If she left him after this and never talked to him again, Jeryd wouldn’t blame her. For some reason, the thought of her being with someone else wasn’t the main issue anymore. He didn’t know what was. Maybe he just didn’t care about anything anymore.
“Let’s go for a walk, help clear your head,” Tryst suggested.
Before they left the house, Jeryd wrote a note to Marysa, then tore it up. What the hell could words do between them now? Anything he might say would be deeply inappropriate and he imagined her reaction upon reading it in the morning.
As they walked the dark streets, it was the sheer coldness of the city that gradually brought him to his senses. Even when he slipped on the ice and mildly twisted his ankle, Jeryd didn’t care. He felt he deserved the pain, as if the elements and Villjamur itself were slapping him down with a vague, ironic sort of justice.
CHAPTER 36
THEY CAME TWO HOURS BEFORE THE DAWN, DRESSED BLACKER THAN THE shadows of the street itself, two dozen cultists from the Order of the Dawnir, and they gathered in numbers outside the simple wooden door. Papus placed a metal box containing a brenna-based relic at the base of it, altered the settings subtly, retreated.
A few heartbeats later, the door exploded, shards of wood clattering on the cobbles and the neighboring buildings, an abrupt hailstorm of splinters. In the following silence, her cultists entered the city headquarters of the Order of the Equinox. Shouts and screams were soon heard from inside. Knives were drawn. Quick battles fought in the gloom. Only the gargle of blood exiting a throat indicated a death rattle.
They used several aldartals to freeze the men and women of the Equinox in time—poised in moments of confusion and terror for several minutes—before binding them with ropes. Any that weren’t thus immobilized were killed. Dartun’s own relics seemed to inhibit the effectiveness of many of her own devices, so much of what went on happened in real time. The bitterness of ancient rivalry had now reached a violent climax. Papus expected answers. Her previous threat—the hostage she had taken—had not produced a response from Dartun. She would search this building until she knew what secrets were hidden here, and what truths she didn’t yet know about Villjamur, about the lands of the red sun …
About Dartun himself.
In many of the rooms there was only candlelight at best. Still, it was enough for her order to go about their search. She had planned this in detail. Thirty-four of the Equinox were captured, tied up, dragged out into the alleyway. She figured there would be at least another forty members hiding here, now fully aware of the break-in. She whispered strategy, signaled by hand the parts of the building to be investigated. Some of the corridors had been blocked by simple energy shields, relics being activated within the stonework. Simple enough to remove—they were meant for common burglars rather than to deter cultists. Progress through the complex of secret corridors and hidden rooms was efficient.
Shards of the Equinox technology were shot at her cultists, ripples of purple light cutting through the air. The darkness allowed her to see them easily, but she soon lost the ability to see clearly in the dark because of the constant flares of light. Papus tripped more than once, her palms stinging as they slapped against the cold stone floor. She could hear gasps and shudders of breath and coughs of blood and muffled cries. She could only hope they represented the defeat of the Equinox. Then these private battles ceased.
A signal was sent along the line of her order, back to the front of the building. Torches were ignited. There might be plenty of new technology here, an abundance