Page 158 of Eldritch
Sacton Crain’s lips peeled back for a snarl. “I should’ve burned you instead of banishing you to the woods. Both of you!” He rushed toward me, his robes chasing behind him. “And remember this one! The bones that tumbled out of her hands. The way she willed the carriage to crush poor Lilleven. And now, whatever monstrosity decorates her hand turned one of our soldiers to dust!”
Corwin sighed. “I must’ve missed that after I fainted.”
“One touch, and poof!” Sacton Crain dramatized every word with the flailing of his hands. “We are all cursed by The Red God because of her! From the day she was birthed, he has sought to punish us. Look at her eyes! Silver, like the devil’s eyes. And, I say, it is time to banish the evil in our god’s flock, once and for all!”
The crowd murmured, zealous and fearful, and pressed forward, forcing us back toward the altar behind us.
“The Red God spoke of The Decimation, punishment for our unrepented sins! My good people, let us purge ourselves. Offer our four most ungodly transgressors in one single sacrifice.”
The crowd bellowed in assent, the sound of their judgment echoing all around us.
“I suppose it’s a really horrible time to admit that I’ve always fancied you,” Corwin whispered in my ear. “The black attire was somewhat repetitive, but you are beautiful, in spite of looking like you’re in constant mourning.”
“Not now, Corwin,” I said, keeping my attention on the crowd, whose bloodthirsty eyes told me there was no chance of appealing to their empathy.
“Of course. I just thought I should tell you, since we’re all going to die. And what a romantic gesture, really, burning together this way. Not many men couldactuallysay they’d burn for you.”
“Enough, Corwin!” Aleysia snapped.
“Apologies. I get nervous when I’m chatty…er, chatty when I’m nervous. Flatulent, too. Oh, god…is methane flammable?”
Aleysia groaned, raking her hands through her hair. “For God’s sake, someone set me aflame already.”
Further, the crowd pushed toward us, their weapons jutting forward like a wall of barbs and spines, gradually sending us back. I turned, seeking an escape, but the only way out stood on the opposite side of the tomb, beyond the crowd.
The ground crackled beneath my boots, and I looked down to see twigs, straw, and oiled cloth placed with malicious care. Kindling. They’d been gathered in a tight ring over an iron surface, where footprints had been seared into the metal.
A man dressed in the telling robes of the clergy handed Sacton Crain a bundle of kindling fashioned into a torch. Sacton Crain crossed the circle toward a blazing brazier at the corner of the altar, and my nerves jittered when he dipped the torch and the pitch smeared across the bundled wood caught quickly. The wood hissed and crackled as he turned around.
I’d grown accustomed to Zevander’s black flame—more pet than element—but this variety of fire was different. I’d watched that infernal glow swallow innocent women and men, not quickly like sablefyre. No, the fire I’d come to know was slow and agonizing. It devoured at its own pace, savoring the flesh.
“They shall burn alive. Their sounds of suffering will mark an end to our own!” Sacton Crain’s voice guttered with his shrill words.
More assent.
“The Red God will lift this scourge! He will spare us!”
The exuberance of their cheering shook my nerves. That an entire village could be so elated to watch four innocent people burn—not a single one willing to challenge him—spoke of the power Sacton Crain wielded over their minds. Parishioners who might’ve been the kind to smile at me in the market square under different circumstances. I could only imagine them rotted to the core beneath those gleaming expressions.
Corwin whimpered behind me. “I’ve always feared burning alive. I can’t think of anything more painful.”
“Let them go!” The familiar voice rose above the din, and Governor Grimsby hobbled forward with a crutch tucked under his armpit. Face gaunt and sallow, he glanced around at his fellow parishioners, and I hated that the sight of him was a relief.“For God’s sake, have we not suffered and sacrificed enough? I’m tired. Weary of The Red God’s constant demands.” He threw out his hand toward us. “They’re no more terrifying than the creatures we cower from outside of these walls. Let them go! We can live in peace. No more killings. No more burnings. Not when we’ve lost so many already. We’ve starvedchildrenfor godssake and for what? Nothing has changed! We’re no better off.”
“Traitorous fool,” Sacton Crain spat. “I never liked, nor trusted, you.”
“You never welcomed a challenging perspective. You have ruled this parish with an iron fist, and I will not be silenced any longer.”
He’d barely spoken the words, when the side of his neck split with the piercing of a blade.
My breath hitched, as I stared at the burly man who’d skewered him with a look of pure malevolence plastered to his face. The black snake tattoo on his neck identified him as one of Governor Grimsby’s Sawbones—bottom feeders who collected debts and doled out punishment for those that went unpaid. As the governor dropped to his knees, gasping and coughing blood, icy fingers of shock curled around the nape of my neck, even more so when the crowd lurched toward him, stabbing their spears into his body.
“Stop!” I screamed, but they kept on, pounding their weapons into him over an expanding pool of blood.
Panicked breaths stuttered out of me as I turned my gaze to Sacton Crain and studied the cold, detached amusement that colored his expression. The man raised his chin, his eyes gleaming with authority. Untouchable. A dare to move against him.
I was reminded of the days when he’d stood before the congregation, prodding the women he’d branded as witches. Silencing the voices that may have been bold enough to speakagainst him. I watched in horror as his disciples attacked an already wounded man, snickering through the task.
“Godless heretics have no place among our flock,” he said with a sickening calm.
