Chapter 33

For Lord Carrack, few things were more humbling than attempting to articulate the indescribable. He returned to the fort with a speed he believed lost to his years, urgently summoning Alaina, and Crow, who were visibly alarmed by his uncharacteristically frantic demeanor.

Gathered in the conference room, Carrack found himself wrestling with the ineffable. He recounted what he could, his words painting the broad strokes of his ordeal, but the visceral fear that the statue’s oppressive aura evoked remained frustratingly beyond the reach of language.

Crow and Alaina, tempered by harsh times, maintained stoic expressions, revealing no hint of emotion. Their alertness and suspicion were evident as they absorbed the details of Carrack’s tale.

The room fell silent upon the completion of his account, the quiet hanging heavy with unspoken thoughts and questions. Crow eventually pierced the stillness, releasing a drawn-out sigh that seemed to carry the weight of their shared uncertainty. He glanced downward, contemplative, before meeting Alaina’s eyes. She offered a subtle, inquisitive look in return, her gaze laden with unspoken questions.

“Well,” Crow began, leaning forward with a hint of deference in his voice, “you’re the expert in these matters, aren’t you?”

Alaina’s arms folded across her chest in an almost protective gesture. “Expert in what, exactly?” she challenged, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Arcane, magic, that sort of thing,” Crow replied with an offhand shrug, as if the weight of such matters were beyond his care.

Alaina’s response carried a mix of resignation and mild irritation. “In the realm of magic, the vast sea of unknowns drowns out the islands of the known, even for those of us who have dedicated our lives to its study. I’m hardly what you’d call an expert,” she said, her gaze drifting to Carrack. “The phenomena you’ve described, the visions you’ve witnessed … in our world, the boundary of possibility is far broader than we can fathom, yet some occurrences are so exceptionally rare they might as well be myths—often for good reason.”

Carrack leaned in, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of hope and skepticism. “What’s your take on all this, then? What does your intuition tell you?” he pressed, his voice carrying an undercurrent of desperation for answers.

Alaina’s posture shifted as she leaned forward, her hands cradling her head as if to squeeze insight from her own mind. A deep furrow formed between her brows as she considered the implications of Carrack’s account. Moments passed, punctuated by a frustrated groan, before she straightened up. “Nothing given is given freely, especially in magic. A price must always be paid. If what you’re saying is true, and I believe it is, I fear Lady Matilda may be tampering with forces beyond her comprehension. My worry is that she’s offering herself to something masquerading as her deity.”

Carrack, his expression pensive, ventured a thought. “Could it truly be her God, or perhaps even God itself?”

“No,” Alaina’s response was immediate, her voice ringing with conviction. “Gods, or a God, are beyond lingering in an idle cast of rock.”

“Do you believe it could be a spirit? Perhaps a malevolent one?” Carrack’s question hung in the air, tinged with the gravity of his own experiences.

Alaina exhaled slowly, the weight of uncertainty heavy in her breath. “Within the vast expanse of the arcane, like I said before, what we do not know vastly eclipses what we do. The fear you felt—while profound—does not inherently mark the presence of malevolence. Fear is often a reflex to the mysterious, the unexplained. Think of the ancient reactions to celestial events—the stars, eclipses, comets like the great Broom Star. These once invoked dread, yet they are merely facets of our natural world.”

“And such fears persist even now,” Crow interjected, his voice a grounding echo to Alaina’s rationale.

“Indeed,” Alaina affirmed. “What you’ve faced is the embodiment of the unknown, and fear, in such cases, is an instinctual companion.”

Carrack’s thumbs circled each other, a physical manifestation of his ruminations. “Perhaps you’re correct,” he conceded, the seeds of doubt finding fertile ground in his thoughts.

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Alaina’s disdain for the notion of a hex was palpable. She shook her head, her gesture dismissing the very idea. “The very notion is absurd. Scarlet Sorcery? Please. It’s a bold claim to make, particularly coming from someone who has been less than truthful about their own nature.”

“Agreed,” Crow said with a nod. “We’ve already pegged her as a liar, as far as I’m concerned we have to take what she says as nothing other than just more lies.”

“Which leads me to her sudden evangelism,” Alaina said, “the nature of this statue is unknown to me, more troubling since I haven’t sensed anything from it.”

“Can certain forms of the arcane be undetectable to someone like you?” Carrack wondered.

Alaina scrunched her face as her eyes drifted into thought briefly. “Not naturally, at least to my knowledge. It would have to be hidden deliberately. I would think I’d be able to sense its presence along with this supposed colorful aura that you see surrounding yourself and Lady Matilda, but I can neither see nor sense anything amiss.”

“Perhaps if you got close to it? Would you be able to sense it? Figure out what it is?” Carrack suggested.

“That would do it …” Alaina agreed hesitantly. “I’d see right through whatever shroud is hiding it.”

“Well, what if we did do that?” Crow, cutting to the chase, asked, “Let’s say you got close and then found it to be a threat?”

Alaina brushed her hands across her lap, a gesture of resolve. “If it’s a threat, then we neutralize it. It’s as simple as that.”

“Destroy it,” Carrack stated, voicing the inevitable conclusion.

Crow leaned forward, his mind already mapping out the logistics. “And how do we do that? Exorcism or something?”

Alaina laughed off the suggestion. “No, nothing so dramatic as an exorcism. We use dynamite. We have some here, don’t we?”

Crow raised his eyebrows in mild astonishment. “Well, that’s straightforward.”

“But what if this statue, or whatever’s inside it,” said Carrack, “doesn’t take kindly to being blown up? What if it fights back?”

Alaina met his gaze with firm determination. “Then it’ll have me to contend with,” she said, her tone laced with both confidence and a hint of reluctance at the prospect of confrontation. “Unpleasant, but necessary.”

As Alaina detailed her potential confrontation with the statue and its followers, a chilling shiver traced its way up Carrack’s spine. Her voice seemed distant, muffled by a high-pitched ringing that escalated to an unbearable crescendo in his ears. A wave of nausea swept over him, his mouth filling with the taste of sour saliva as beads of sweat dotted his brow. His heart thudded in his chest, his vision swimming in and out of focus.

What truly gripped his attention, however, was the eerie shadow that hovered around Alaina. It moved in sync with her, a grotesque mimicry, its low, distorted echo of her voice sending waves of unease through him. His fingers and toes curled involuntarily as he fixated on the shadow.

At the peak of the ringing, the shadow turned its scarlet-glowing eyes toward him. The intensity of its gaze forced Carrack to shift uncomfortably, ultimately propelling him to his feet. His sudden movement arrested the conversation, leaving Alaina and Crow in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. As he stood, the ringing ceased abruptly, the feeling of dread dissipated, and the shadow vanished as if it had never been.

“Uh, sir?” Crow’s voice held a note of concern, his face etched with confusion and a hint of worry.

Carrack, now acutely aware of the eyes fixed upon him, felt a rush of embarrassment. He hastily attempted to cover up his unusual behavior, loosening his joints and stretching his limbs in an exaggerated manner. “Sorry about that, just needed to stand up for a sec,” he said, his voice a blend of casual dismissal and discomfort. “Everything feels so tight, you know? And sore too, after … well, you know.”

Alaina’s eyes softened with empathy, her head nodding in understanding. “Yes, I can imagine,” she said gently. “Being trapped as you were, it’s bound to take a toll on the body.”

“Yes, indeed it has,” Carrack replied with a nervous chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. “Listen, I’m going to leave this in your capable hands. I need some time to clear my head, maybe even catch some elusive sleep.”

Crow and Alaina exchanged a glance, their eyes communicating a shared concern, before they refocused on Carrack. They nodded in unison, signaling their understanding and willingness to shoulder the responsibility.

“We’ll work out a plan and get back to you, sir. No worries on that front,” Crow assured him, his tone blending respect with a touch of formality. “But just so I’m clear, what’s the goal here? What’s the ideal outcome for you?”

“I’d love nothing more than to see a ship laden with food and news sail over the horizon,” Carrack said, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he glanced down at his slightly trembling hands. “But realistically, I want that statue dealt with—rendered harmless. And this … this church Lady Matilda’s been building; we need to dismantle it since it’s apparently an illegal conclave of sorcery. Plus, anyone who’s eaten that so-called miraculous food needs to be checked for any … unfortunate side effects.”

“Understood, sir. We’ll start planning and have something for you later today,” Crow affirmed, his tone exuding a calm professionalism. “You should rest, get your strength back.”

“That’s the plan,” Carrack agreed, his voice trailing off.

Alaina, ever the caretaker, chimed in, “I can prepare a soothing concoction to help settle your nerves, sir.”

Carrack’s initial response was sharp, almost reflexive. “No,” he snapped, then, catching himself, softened his tone. “No, thank you, Alaina. I think I’ll try for some natural rest. Less … complicated that way.”