Lorin
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Chapter 34: Kumbaya bonfire
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 13:44:04 +0000 UTCJoanna, Samara, and a man I hadn’t yet met sat opposite of each other at a round table, they all had a cup of something in front of them. I inched closer and had a peek inside Joanna’s. She studied my careful approach with a hushed giggle. “It’s just water.”
I scratched my neck and smiled sheepishly. “This is Hugo,” Joanna said. The man nodded a greeting at me. His youthful eyes stood in stark contrast to the mature stubble on his chin. She nodded her chin at an empty chair. “Have a seat.”
I did, making sure to lift the chair to not make the wooden legs screech against the floor. The atmosphere was heavy enough that you could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat. “So… what’s up?”
Samara scoffed and prepared to say something, but quietened when Joanna shot her a sharp glare. I knew the preacher’s daughter could be domineering, but never had I thought it would be to the point that she could make the esteemed Solburne daughter back down.
The young man studied the scene silently. Whenever his eyes glazed over me it felt like he wasn’t truly looking at me. They seemed distant, as if he looked at something that wasn’t quite what I saw.
Joanna smiled. “We’ve been comparing information, and it seems like you’re sitting on a piece that neither of us possess.”
Samara glared at me. “Why didn’t you tell me about the coiled building?!”
I shrugged. “There were more pressing matters at hand. Besides, I didn’t know you then, I barely know you now.”
“I’m a fucking Solburne!” She snarled.
“You keep saying that, but it still doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.”
Samara’s shaking grip tightened around her cup, she finally lost her composure and slammed it against the table with a resounding conk. “How can you say that when you’re acquainted with her?!”
I raised a brow. “ Joanna?”
“With Joanna bloody Abrams!”
I blinked and looked between the two women. Joanna sighed. “Dorothea’s supply of otherworldly items comes from the order me and Dad work for.”
“The church?”
She shook her head. “Not quite a church. Our line and order hails from the Forgotten lands.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What the hell had the priest been preaching to me about if not God? I rubbed my eyes. “What does this mean, exactly?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be mad.”
“I guess I’m just benevolent like that,” I boasted and crossed my arms, leaning back in the chair.
She shook her head. “I means that while we fight for the same cause, we are competitors with the Solburne’s and the other large houses. It also means that we are allies with your grandmother.”
I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t like my family, but that didn’t extend to their business partners. The sins of the father should not be means for the child to be put to death… “It’s just business,” I said. “It’s more surprising to me that you’re a fake priest’s daughter, whatever the fuck that means.”
She smacked me in the forehead. “Language!”
I rubbed my forehead. It ached like I’d been stung by a wasp. “Ouch… Anyway… It does explain how you’re able to keep the church up and running. You’ve got practically no patrons.”
“We so do!” she protested loudly, leaning in toward me. Her eyes grew wide as she caught a glance of the others' shocked expressions. She coughed into her hand and composed herself going like nothing happened. “Despite our patrons, the church used to be a good cover.”
“And the kids? The boarding school?”
“A school for kids whose parents travel to the Forgotten lands for Order business.”
“Makes sense,” I mumbled. The parents all seemed kind of outlandish. Each and every one of them had odd quirks that I basically never saw in people back in London.
“Can we get to the point?” Samara cut in sharply
Joanna turned, her smile losing its warmth. “Of course. The coiled building, tell us about the layout. Did anything strike you as particularly odd?” she asked and turned to me again.
I rubbed my chin in thought. “Nothing particularly interesting apart from what I’ve already told you.”
She nodded with her eyes closed. “More details please.”
“There’s a room with a bunch of vial ammunition that I was hoping to get back to before my supply runs out. Then there’s the vault which should under no circumstances ever be tampered with. There’s also a hallway that had a large portion of it ripped out.” Joanna looked surprised, even Samara leaned closer, nudging at me to continue.
“There’s a literal infernal pit where the corridor should be.”
Samara slumped back in her chair. “That’s it.” Joanna nodded, eyes closed in thought.
“What’s what?”
Joanna bit her lip and bounced her feet enough that the table shook slightly. “That’s where the anchor point should be. Something’s interfered,” she muttered. “This isn’t at all how it should be.”
“There’s protocol to summonings?”
She clicked her tongue. “No. There’s protocol to Legion ruptures, or Order ruptures. What happened to us is neither.”
I nodded. “Right. It’s hijacked.”
They all turned to look at me. Hugo’s eyes made my hair stand on end. It was deeply unsettling. I cleared my throat. “That’s what Sera said before she… you know.”
They shared a look before Samara spoke. “Was this Sera versed in knowledge about the veil?”
I nodded. “She never told me much, but she knew way more than me. And way more than she let on.”
They shared another look. Samara slumped back in her seat and sighed. “She might have been the guide.”
Joanna nodded. “Sounds like it.”
My eyes wandered between the two. “Sorry. Guide?” I asked.
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter if she’s gone,” Samara groaned.
She both was and wasn’t. But telling them would go against the contract, I think. Since I didn’t know whether or not they would bring her harm if they knew who—or what—she was. Hell, I still didn’t.
“So. What do we do?” I asked and dragged my thimble clad fingers against the rough wood of the table, etching barely visible shapes into the material.
Joanna took a small sip of her cup, eyes closed. “We’ve got a pretty good idea of where the relic is. The only problem is that it’s supposedly well guarded by things we’d rather not take on without unsung warriors.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Unsung warriors?”
“The rank above whispers.”
“Like accolades?” I asked to confirm.
“Precisely.”
“So we just need to rank up?”
She shook her head. “People don’t earn enough renown to become Unsung in just a few months. It usually takes a few expeditions.”
“So we’re fucked?”
She smiled. “Not at all. We just have to get on with it and improve quick enough that we rank up before the food runs out.”
“And how’s that done exactly?”
Samara dropped her jaw. “Do you know nothing?”
I smiled and fidgeted with the thimbles. “I really don’t. I didn’t get a very good first introduction to the place. Or anything, really.”
She rolled her eyes. “Deeds of renown. All actions worthy of acclaim count toward your rank up. The larger the ripples of your actions, the quicker you rise in rank. It generally takes time. Not many whispers are allowed to go into the Forgotten lands without a form of mentor. Or a unsung guard.”
That sounded easy enough. “So we’ve just got to make a name for ourselves? That shouldn’t be too hard in a place like this.” Hell, I’d already killed a jailor. That should count for something.
Joanna chuckled. “It shouldn't, right? That is if our actions had consequences. Unfortunately we’re stuck in a place that civilization forgot all about.”
I cusped my hands on the table and furrowed my brows. “So how do we do this then?”
She leaned close and whispered, “We make them feel that we’re here.”
“Right…” I sighed. “And how do we do that?”
She smiled deviously. “By creating a little hell, of course.”
***
The walls of the library towered above the surrounding shops like an ashy behemoth. Stumblers filled the streets below like a tide, following my every move with their dead gaze. Their raucous trot through the streets left the few remaining untouched monuments of civilization devastated.
“Go lure a horde of monsters Cal. It’ll be fine Cal. Don’t be a bitch Cal and stop whining,” they hadn’t said that last part, that part I added.
I groaned and glanced at the mindless horde. They followed me like cattle to the slaughter.
Just up ahead, the others were laying in wait with traps and explosives. If everything went without a hitch, we’d dwindle the numbers of the horde by quite a lot. As long as the corrupted traitors didn’t step in, or God forbid the Slitherstitch. Thinking about it, quite a bit of things could go wrong, but we didn’t have time to be picky. The food supply wouldn’t last more than a few weeks at most. Joanna and her group had already scoured the area outside of Samara’s reach, practically everything had been ransacked and stocked.
In the distance, behind a wall of broken rubble, the flash of a mirror told me that they were set up and ready. My feet left indentations in the sheet metal roofing below. There was no time for caution when a horde breathed down your neck. But I had ran this route many times. I knew the roof wouldn’t suddenly give out and send me tumbling into the dark embrace of a building.
“Now!” Samara screamed.
I stopped and glanced down at the stumblers. They screamed and recoiled as a large wall of flames cut through the middle of their ranks, separating a smaller group from the main body of mindless thralls. The ones who kept stumbling forward showed a hint of surprise at the sudden heat scalding their heels, but the prospect of the fresh brains, or whatever it was that they ate, was enough to keep them from turning.
The blessed burst forth, heralded by Yusuf’s grey smoke. It seeped into the gaps separating the stumblers and pressed down on them, slowing their speed noticeably.
Better get going myself, I thought and untangled the wand from my shoulder. It was already loaded with one of my few precious remaining bullets.
I took my sweet time in aiming after confirming that I was still alone on the roof. The shot burst in the midst of a small crowd and engulfed a handful of them. Only one emerged alive, and just barely. The rest crumpled to the floor like smouldering heaps of flesh and became fuel for the raging wall of fire encroaching on them from behind. Not even the pain of a fresh burn was enough for the survivor to react—not in the slightest. I doubted they felt anything other than hunger and anger.
A crossbow bolt tore through the crowd and embedded itself in the stumblers forehead, making it fall to its knees. Rest, I thought and loaded another shell into the wand.
Beyond the flames, the cut off group screamed and snarled. When they realized their attempts to join their brethren on the other side was futile, they surged and wandered away to look for another path into the alley. There were none. We had made sure of that a few days ago.
Samara and her people threw themselves against the horde. Their blades reaped life after life in a gruesome dance of death. My bullets painted the scene with a grim backdrop of fiery explosions.
Most fearsome of all was Nea. She never stopped moving. Wherever she went, heads exploded like melons, and torn limbs rained down like confetti. No matter how she fought, the results were always the same.
With the wall of flames swallowing the majority of the cut off group, the battle didn’t take long to clean up.
I looked down on the smouldering remains of houses and people. The attack squad rummaged through the pockets of the slain stumblers looking for valuables. They measured the soles of their feet against those who still had intact shoes. Nothing went to waste. Samara sat atop her throne of broken walls and furniture, barking orders.
I sat down with my feet dangling off the roof. The overlapped layers of materials that riddled this part of town told a story of a resourceful and resilient people. It was a shame that they all became scourge in the end. Living—if it could even be considered living—as a stumbler for the rest of your days was a fate I wouldn’t even wish on my extended family.
On the opposite rooftop, Yusuf sat huddled and shivered. His condition grew less stable with each day. I nodded at him, he nodded back. We couldn’t waste more time here than needed unless we wanted to risk being on the receiving end of the Slithersstich’s wrath.
“Good job,” Samara shouted from below. “Reconvene at the plaza. Cal, follow their trail. John is already leading them away.”
I groaned. We’d been at this for days now. However many we cut down, it didn’t feel like we ever made a dent. And even after days of trying, neither the Slitherstitch nor Elana had shown their detestable faces.
I whispered to myself in a silly voice, “Go trail the super dangerous horde of stumblers Cal. Nothing’s gonna go wrong Cal.”
Obviously I made all the parts up this time.
