Flawed Shard, Chapter 2, pt 2.

Been a long time since I posted anything new on this novel. If I don't have substantially more completed by November, then I will halt production on ONE of my ongoing webcomics, which I really don't want to do. Let's see if I can keep my attention focused on being productive for the next couple of months.

Book 1 of The Crystalmancer Series, by Matt S. Law

(a WIP fantasy novel I'm working on)

The crowd murmured as Elder Alaric shuffled his way through the crowd, making tight gestures with his hands to shoo villagers out of his path. He no longer wore the brown tunic that he wore in the waterfall cave that morning. He had changed into loose, pale blue clothing and had a white healer vestment draped over his shoulders. A few steps behind him was Elder Hamlin, a short man, sleight of build with hair pulled back into a long, silver braid. He wore a coarse gray robe and also had his white vestments. His hands were clasped behind his back and he took deliberate, measured steps. He was an exemplar of serenity and calm, in contrast to the nervous irritation that Alaric displayed.
“All of you get back!” yelled Alaric in a nasal voice trying to assert his authority over the crowd. He waved his arms in broad gestures and repeated several times, “Get back!” as the crowd retreated a few reluctant steps.
“Please, friends.” Hamlin intoned with a strong, gentle voice. “I know you are curious, but this poor soul may have died of some disease which could still be in the air.” As he spoke he held his arms open and ushered the crowd away from the body. They unconsciously fell into step along with him and followed his lead. “Let Alaric and I examine the body. We will determine if there is any danger and let everyone know what we find. Please, take your children home before they grow too curious themselves.” Half the crowd dispersed as parents went to find their children. The rest drifted to the far side of the road and continued to mill about in their new designated spot. Drystam and Beatrice remained at their vantage point near the wall of the common house.
Elder Alaric scoffed at the retreating mob then turned towards the body. His eyes narrowed and his head recoiled slightly in either confusion or revulsion. His hand plucked one end of his vestment from his chest and held it over his mouth and nose as he stood staring down at the disfigured corpse from a few paces away. He remained motionless until Elder Hamlin joined him a minute later. He, also, covered the lower part of his face with his vestment and tilted his head to one side and considered the black, twisted mass. They leaned slightly towards each other but Drystam could not hear their words.
“Wait here, Bea.” Drystam squeezed her shoulder and added, “Please.” She nodded at him with a defiant glint in her eye. Without the “please” she surely would have followed right along behind him. He kissed Beatrice’s cheek and trotted towards the two elders, holding his damp tunic over his mouth and nose as he approached.
Elder Hamlin pivoted away from the body and stretched his palm towards Drystam freezing him in mid step. “Stop right there, apprentice.” Hamlin’s voice was gentle but urgent and compelled instant compliance in the young man. “That tunic of yours is woven from linen cords and is completely useless as a means of filtering out an airborne disease.”
“Oh,” Drystam muttered in humiliation and shuffled back a few steps. “Of course. I just… I was already close to it earlier, before it was dragged from the river.”
“We hardly need advice from a failed apprentice,” Elder Alaric raised his voice to be clearly heard through the cloth of his vestment. “Go home, boy.”
Elder Hamlin turned towards Alaric and lifted a finger, “Just a moment, Elder. I’d like to question the apprentice first.” Elder Alaric issued a derisive snort and returned his attention to the corpse. Hamlin turned back to Drystam, “You were the one that came closest to the body?”
Drystam was about to nod then realized that he was not. “No, Elder. It was one of the children playing in the river. Oren’s son, Ian. I pulled him away from it.”
The Elder leaned forward slightly. “I trust that neither of you touched the body?”
“I didn’t,” Drystam shook his head. “I am pretty sure that Ian did not either.”
“Good, good.” the older man mused to himself and looked thoughtfully at Drystam. Alaric cleared his throat and called out, “Hamlin! Look at this.” Hamlin hesitated for a moment, making Drystam uncomfortable under his scrutiny, before turning back to Alaric and the corpse. His hand covered his mouth with his vestment again. Drystam followed behind a few steps, thought about covering his own face with his tunic again then changed his mind. He stayed a short distance away so that he could observe what the Elders were doing.
Elder Alaric gingerly held up the end of one of the ropes. He gave Drystam a glower, but spoke loud enough so that the young man could clearly hear his muffled voice, “It dissolved through the ropes.”
Elder Hamlin let the vestment fall away from his face, “Not a disease then. Some kind of caustic substance on the body?” He sat on his haunches near the corpse. “I’ve never heard of anything that covers a body and deforms it in this way.”
Elder Alaric clambered down onto his knees. He withdrew his knife and with the tip carefully cut into the black flesh. “No,” his face screwed up with disgust but his voice was soft, almost gentle. “This black substance did not cover the skin. The skin was transformed into this black substance.”
“It’s death magic isn’t it?” Drystam chimed in, louder than he intended. Both of the elders looked at him with flat expressions. “If there is such a thing.” he added meekly. They still looked at him as if they expected him to say more. “While I was in the water, I could feel energy coming off of it. But it was nothing like the warm energy that radiates off of the crystal tree. It felt like rot. Like decay. Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit.”
Both elders glanced at each other, then returned their attention to the body. Each of them extended their left palm towards it and closed their eyes in focus. “It is there,” intoned Elder Hamlin in a whisper. “It is very faint.” Elder Alaric nodded in agreement. Drystam wondered who he was nodding to, since both their eyes were closed.
Drystam edged in closer behind them and spoke, “It was strong when I sensed it.”
“I have a question for you, apprentice,” Hamlin faced Drystam. “What was it that first drew your attention to the river. To the boy, Ian. To… this.” he gestured towards the corpse.
“I’m not sure,” Drystam thought back. He had been lost in a kiss with Beatrice, oblivious to everything around him. He stole a glance in her direction. What had attracted his attention? “The children were playing in the water. Then they all went silent.”
“But, something more than that, perhaps?” Elder Hamlin goaded him.
“Something,” mused Drystam. “Something in the air? It felt unnatural.”
“You have good instincts, Drystam.” Hamlin nodded and smiled thoughtfully. “I suspect you have a natural affinity to magic and magical patterns.”
Elder Alaric scoffed, then stood up, dusting off his knees. “Elder Hamlin, have you done any reading on death magic?”
“No, I have not.” he replied.
“So, there is such a thing?” Drystam blurted out.
Alaric lifted his chin and looked down at Drystam, hesitating for a second before answering. “Yes. Death magic is indeed real. The practice of it is forbidden in every school of magic in every civilized land. And no crystalmancer has ever found a way to imbue it into a crystal tree or shard.” Drystam nodded as the Elder spoke. Alaric’s customary gruff mannerisms tended to disappear while he lectured and he seemed almost approachable at times like this.
“So, then a sorcerer did this?” Drystam tried to suppress the alarm in his voice. Sorcerers were rare individuals that could channel magic without the use of crystals. Before the awakening of crystalmancy they were the only ones that could wield magic. Most of the stories about sorcerers were of them ruling as tyrants or of them exerting their wills over cities and kingdoms without fear of reprisal. Drystam never expected he would ever live long enough or venture far enough from Lowlake to ever meet one.
“Do not jump to conclusions,” snapped Elder Alaric. “It is one possibility.” As he resumed his scholarly cadence the irritation in his voice fell away. “There are beasts. Magical creatures that can cause magical effects without the use of crystals or sorcery. You have of course heard of the storm serpents. They fly without wings and use lightning as a weapon. That is magic.” Drystam had heard tales of storm serpents, but was never entirely sure if they were real or just creatures of fable. He continued nodding in agreement though. “Of course,” Alaric trailed off. “I have never heard of any beast, except in the most obscure legends, that could wield death magic.”
“Me neither,” agreed Elder Hamlin. His look sharpened and he wrung his hands together. “We should burn the body where it lies. Including the ropes and any organic material it might have touched.”
“There are wooden planks at the edge of the water where the children play.” Drystam interjected. “I’ll fetch them.”
Elder Hamlin snatched his arm before he could scurry off, “Use one of those burlap sacks stacked behind the pub to move them. Pile them on the body then throw the sack on top of it to burn as well.”
“I will fetch some lamp oil,” offered Beatrice who now stood just ten paces away. Elder Hamlin nodded at her and she spun towards the common house.
“What will we tell the villagers?” asked Alaric as the two youngsters departed to complete their tasks.
Hamlin turned his palms upward in the semblance of a shrug. “We’ll gather everyone into the square and address them all at once. Hopefully, we can stave off any wild stories from spreading.”
“We don’t really know anything,” huffed Alaric, “Any wild stories they come up with are likely to have as much truth as we can give to them.”