Page 23 of Swordheart
Halla pointed. “Toward the—”
A loud clanging rang out over the village. Halla winced.
“And that would be the church bell?” asked Sarkis.
“They ring it for alarms.”
“That may make things difficult.”
“What, only now?” said Halla, and saw Sarkis’s teeth flash in the moonlight as he grinned.
The lich-gate loomed before them. A stone slab, shrouded in cloth and moonlight, lay beneath the covered roof, and beyond, the iron gates stood ajar.
There was a body on the slab.
Great-Uncle Silas. Forgive me, uncle, for not being able to be grateful for the gift you gave me.
“Huh? What’s going on?” A young man, heavy-eyed with sleep, rose from the bench beside the gate. “Why are they sounding the alarm?”
Sarkis went for his sword. Halla grabbed his sword hand and shoved it back down. He glanced at her, startled, and she gave him a sharp, hopefully meaningful look, then stepped forward. “Ladden? Is that you?”
“Mistress Halla?”
“There’s something happening in the village, Ladden. It’s not grave robbers, is it?”
“Grave robbers?” Ladden looked around for the corpse, panicking. “No! He’s still—oh, thank the Four. No. He’s still here.”
“Thank heaven,” said Halla. “I don’t know what’s happening. I just heard the alarm and someone had said there were grave robbers about the other day, so I came straight here to make sure no one had designs on poor Silas.”
“Not while I’m here, ma’am,” said Ladden, standing up as straight as he could.
“They steal people’s parts and sell them. Although I’ve never been sure if they took the whole body or just the parts they’re going to sell…”
Ladden’s eyes went wide. Sarkis made a small noise of despair.
“But you’re here!” Halla finished hurriedly. “So they didn’t get him. That’s good. But something’s happening in town, obviously.”
Bless the lad’s thick skull. There’s more holes in that story than in a cheese. But he’s probably worried I’ll notice he was asleep and not guarding Silas.
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Roderick and I will go out that way and make sure no one suspicious is lurking around. Oh, this is Roderick, my aunt’s guardsman.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Ladden, touching his foreheadand stepping back to let them pass. Sarkis nodded to him as they hurried by.
“I am almost insulted,” whispered Sarkis, as they left the lich-gate behind. “I am nothing like that wretched hireling.”
“Yes, but it’ll muddy the waters nicely when they ask Ladden what happened.”
He took a moment to unclench his jaw, then finally said, “It was well done, Lady Halla.”
“Thanks.”
The lich road led across the open fields into the distance. There were ditches on either side, overgrown with tangles of blackberry and cattail.
“Are there no houses here?” asked Sarkis.
“Not on the lich road. You can farm it, but you don’t build along it. Good way to have the dead tapping on your door at night. Although what the dead want, I don’t know.”
