Читать книгу The Vlishgnath Chronicles - Daniel Mitchell - Страница 14

Episode 8

Vlishgnath and Thunderclese leafed through the book for several moments, skipping past early passages where Lucien mostly wrote about how he was only writing in the journal to make Isabelle happy. Their casual scanning came to a halt, however, several pages in on an undated entry.

I can no longer ignore the atrocities that are committed within these walls. Now that Lillith has gone on tour with Forté, Isabelle and I are the only ones left who openly disagree with what father is doing. I know for a fact Vincent doesn’t approve either, but he’d never say anything. We’re supposed to be governing over these townships and ensuring their protection and prosperity, not using them as livestock for father’s sick indulgences. Bartholomew’s disturbing enthusiasm for what’s going on has me worried, and Alexander’s utter lack of interest is of no help either.

Whoever finds this, I must warn you: our father, the Baron LeFay, is knowingly and willingly engaging in acts of necromancy and demonology. Exactly what he does in his study is kept a tight secret, and he allows only our mother and Bartholomew inside it. My sister Isabelle and I have fled the manor for fear that our lives may soon be forfeit. Do not fear for us, for we are safe. If you can, please spare our brother Vincent; he wants no part of our father’s grotesque rituals, but his aversion to the outside world prevented him from escaping with us. On the inside of the back cover is a key to our father’s study; I only hope you have the courage to face what I could not.

May whomever you claim as your god watch over you in this unholy place, and know that it was not always as you see it now.

Lucien LeFay

When they had finished reading, Vlishgnath turned to the back of the leather-bound journal and found a key resting in a make-shift pocket that had been sewn into the inside of the back cover. Sliding it carefully from its pocket, the rather unremarkable looking metal key was very obviously a replication of an original.

Turning it over in his hand a few times, Vlishgnath spoke as he visually inspected it. “I wonder which of them made it.”

Thunderclese thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Hard telling. I’m more curious as to whether or not the thing will actually work. Too bad we didn’t know we might have to pick a lock, or you could’ve brought that little blonde thief friend of yours along with us.”

“Sidonia? Heh, I’m afraid even I wouldn’t have been able to talk her into setting foot on the front porch, let alone coming inside. She’s terrified of the supernatural.”

“I think I am too now, thanks to this house.” Thunderclese shuddered. “What’s our next move?”

“Let’s go through the rest of the bedrooms and see if any of the other LeFay children left us a present,” said Vlishgnath.

Maximus rejoined them from his post as lookout as they continued through the first floor. The southern-most rooms quite obviously belonged to the two girls; large, cushy canopy beds with lace trim and an unnecessary number of pillows resided in each one. A beautiful harpsichord set in a hand-carved frame in the western bedroom indicated that the room belonged to Lillith, and a sturdy oak desk with a comfortable chair in the eastern one signified Isabelle’s. The room directly across from Lucien’s was locked.

Not bothering to stare at the door for more than a moment, Vlishgnath reached over and clapped Maximus on the shoulder. “You’re up.”

Without his usual room to get at least three steps of momentum, Maximus resorted to leaning back and then lunging forward, bashing into the door with all of the strength he could muster. When it didn’t swing open on the first try, or the subsequent second and third try, Vlishgnath looked at the two northern-most bedrooms in the south-west corner of the house.

“Keep at it, Maximus. It looks like it’s going to give eventually. We’ll go clear the last two rooms.”

First, they found a rather drab and boring looking room, the bed of a very simple yet efficient configuration with only the necessary linens. The rest of the space was devoted to more books, carefully stacked in neat columns around a large, comfortable looking chair. Opposite what they presumed to be Alexander’s room, they found a luxuriously furnished room with an enormous bed. Carved from wood and decorated with the horns and antlers of various animals, the bed sat atop an enormous fur of some type. Hanging on the wall was another portrait of Bartholomew striking a dashing pose, with a pair of crossed rapiers beneath it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thunderclese blurted out upon seeing the painting. “He hung a portrait of himself in his own room.”

“Weren’t you contemplating doing the exact same thing at one point?” Vlishgnath said, silently thanking his helmet for hiding his enormous grin.

“Yes, but I realized how ridiculous it would be and opted not to.”

“Oh, so that makes it alright?”

“According to the church, yes.”

Just then, a loud crashing noise indicated that Maximus had finally breached the locked bedroom door, so the two returned to the hallway.

This final bedroom was very dark inside. The windows were boarded over, and the walls were painted black. Vlishgnath hesitated for a moment before stepping in, Thunderclese following behind him, while Maximus remained outside to stand guard again. The room smelled strongly of paints and clay, and if the olfactory clues hadn’t already told them, they could have deduced by process of elimination that they were in Vincent’s room. For the first minute or two, they cautiously shuffled through the room while their eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“Doesn’t anyone in this house like to see where they’re going?!” exclaimed Thunderclese, knocking over an easel. But eventually, their sight attuned to what little illumination in the room there was, upon which the most notable feature of the room became clear; scrawled on the eastern wall in what looked to be a finger dipped in white paint were several large words. Most of it looked to be incoherent rambling that would make even the most paranoid schizophrenic sound tame, but three phrases in particular stood out.

May the gods have mercy

The locust lord shall devour us all

The young gods cannot save us

For a minute, neither of them said anything. Then, Thunderclese turned to Vlishgnath. “Who are the ‘young gods’?”

Vlishgnath shook his head. “I’ve never heard of any ‘young gods’. The gods are supposed to predate time itself; I would hardly consider that young.”

“Right. That’s what I thought. Any idea who the ‘locust lord’ is?”

Again, Vlishgnath shook his head, but this time did not speak.

“Is it just me, or were we dangerously uninformed coming in to this mission?”

Vlishgnath turned and looked at Thunderclese for a moment, his gaze returning to the wall as he spoke. “You’re assuming the church knows anything about this. Think for a minute: have you ever heard any of the arch clerics mention a locust lord? Even Loremaster Garadain, whom we’re presuming knows everything that’s ever been written down and most of what hasn’t, never brought any of this up in conversation. We’re dealing with something entirely unknown to us, Thunderclese. This is big, and it isn’t good.”

For a long moment, Thunderclese remained quiet as he contemplated what Vlishgnath had said, then finally turned to face him before speaking again. “What do you think the chances are of this house letting us out so we can go ask Garadain if he knows anything about this?”

Vlishgnath shook his head as he moved to exit the room. “Let’s keep moving.”

Making their way down the walkway along the southern half of the second floor, the three paladins came upon a large wooden door facing north. Reinforced with iron bands, the door stood in a sturdy frame with hinges that had been closed off to prevent them from being simply removed.

“I believe we have found the study, gentlemen, and we’d better hope this key works, because I don’t think you’re going to be able to ram your way through this one, Maximus.” Vlishgnath tapped Maximus on the shoulder with the back of his hand as he spoke.

Maximus, however, was moving past the door, the sound of his massive lungs drawing in air through his nose easily heard through his helmet. “You guys smell that?”

Vlishgnath sniffed tentatively at the air, indeed able to pick up a very faint aroma permeating the musty smell that they had grown accustomed to. Making their way east along the southern walkway to discover the source of the smell, they came to a T leading north and south, with a door to their right along the wall. Maximus led the way, stepping up to the door and grasping the doorknob to push it open. He stood and looked inside for a moment before stepping away so that Vlishgnath and Thunderclese could get in.

Upon discovering the source of the smell, Vlishgnath silently closed his eyes, his head dropping down to his chest.

“Oh no...” Thunderclese lamented, peering into the room over Vlishgnath’s shoulder.

An elegant bathroom, complete with ornamental mirrors and a large, elaborate cast iron bathtub now housed a heavily mutilated corpse. Suspended from the ceiling and hanging upside down by an elaborate set of chains and meat hooks, the lifeless body dangled directly above the bathtub. Its clothes were ripped and torn, and as Vlishgnath and Thunderclese stepped in closer they discovered the floor to be covered in dried trails of blood where the victim had apparently been dragged into the room. Hanging with its back to them, the body’s arms hung down, several of its fingers looking to have been chewed off.

Slowly, Vlishgnath reached out, grasping the body by the shoulder and turning it around to face them. Even with his eyes gouged out, his eyelids stitched shut, his face severely lacerated, his black hair pulled from his scalp in patches, and most of his teeth shattered, they immediately recognized what was left of Vincent LeFay. Below him, his blood had pooled in the bathtub, a deep slice to his jugular bleeding the artistic LeFay son to death.

“Bastards!” Thunderclese shouted, his anger beginning to swell up inside of him the longer he stared at the desecrated remains of Vincent. “Their own son! How could they do this?! WHY would they do this?!”

But whereas Thunderclese’s anger burned like fire, Vlishgnath’s temperament became cold as ice, his voice holding a frightening tone with a deadly chill to it. “I’ve had enough of this. I want answers. Now.”

That said, Vlishgnath turned on his heels and marched out the door back to Jonathan LeFay’s study. Retrieving the makeshift key from the belt pouch he’d kept it in, he slid it into the keyhole and didn’t even pause to celebrate the fact that it worked. Thunderclese and Maximus were right behind him. He gave the order just as the lock clicked open, the door swinging loose, “Swords.”

The three of them simultaneously drew their weapons. Retribution rang out loudly as if to announce itself to the evils that took refuge within the LeFay mansion, its divine radiance shedding a brilliant white light on the area. Vlishgnath delivered a standing front kick. The door reeled back from the force of the blow, and the three men prepared to charge into the study. But before they could enter, there was a sudden loud thundering noise accompanied by the smell of ozone as a massive burst of lightening erupted where they stood, each of the three men writhing in agony within their plate mail for a second before falling limp to the ground, as their worlds went black.