'Ink On His Hands' Part 5: The Illustrator

Morbid fascination made Torzek reach a hand out to lightly touch the inky blood on the stone floor. 

He smeared it between two fingers, confirming it was ink. An ink that looked identical to what had been dripping from the parchment left behind by the killer.

He turned his attention back to Ruven, the boy lying bloody on the floor. Still except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

"Shael!" Torzek called, hoping she'd hear him. She'd told him earlier she had to return to Aeppia, the Realm of the Gods, for something important. Stressing that if he called for her, she should be able to come back and help.

After a moment where everything in the mortuary was still, Torzek stood and started trying to move Ruven. He'd need to be taken to the Temple of Niphia, Goddess of Medicine, for healing.

A few minutes passed in which Torzek struggled to move Ruven by himself, unwilling to leave the boy alone to get help in case the killer came back.

Shael stepped out of the air beside the inside door, startling Torzek.

She took one look at him trying to lift Ruven's body off the floor and immediately rushed to help. She lifted Ruven with ease, cradling him in her arms.

"What happened?" She asked.

Torzek shook out his sore arms and said, "I caught that killer trying to kill Ruven, but I managed to scare him off."

Shael was silent for a moment, face drawn in a frown. "Let's get him to Niphia's temple," she said and started heading out the door.

Torzek nodded and followed behind, his mind replaying what just happened. Thoughts of what would have happened if he hadn't heard the noise filled his head.

Niphia's temple was only a few minutes away, and with it being late at night, few people were out.

When they arrived at the temple, Shael went straight to the side door where the ill and injured could be brought at all times of day and night for help.

Torzek knocked on the door, and it opened quickly. A young priestess took one look at Ruven and opened the door wider so Shael could pass through.

"What happened?" The young woman asked as she moved around the room, grabbing supplies.

Shael looked at Torzek and he responded, "I found him being beaten in the mortuary. I managed to run the person off."

The woman motioned for Shael to set Ruven down on a cot, and she started to clean his wounds while checking the injuries for anything severe.

"What's his name?" the priestess asked, never stopping her work or taking her eyes off the young priest.

"Ruven, he's a priest at Nillioth's temple," Shael answered.

Torzek sat down, weariness overtaking his body, and he closed his eyes. Of all the people for this killer to target, Ruven was an odd choice. The boy worked hard to take care of his family. He'd never be caught up in such nasty business as smuggling.

The priestess spoke up and Torzek opened his eyes to look at her, "Ruven will be fine. He's lucky you got there when you did."

He felt Shael's hand rest on his shoulder. "Let's head back. We'll need to alert the guards, and then you should get some sleep," she suggested.

Torzek let out a sigh and stood, feeling every one of his years as his body protested. Whatever strength he'd had while running off the killer had fled, leaving him weary and worn.

~~

The sun had risen by the time Torzek was able to sit down again. Shael had gone with him to speak to the night watch, and a manhunt for the necromancer had immediately started. A priest had been attacked in a temple, and when Torzek confirmed it was the same person as the one animating dead bodies briefly, it couldn't be ignored any longer.

Nillioth's temple had been closed for the day in an attempt to make sure everyone was safe. Citizens had been advised to stay inside their homes wherever possible. Torzek had argued against closing the temple itself, but despite his best arguments, he'd been told the temple doors could not be opened to anyone today. He'd even offered to be the only one there, letting all the other priests stay home, but the guards had refused. Especially, they said, since it seemed the killer had taken an avid interest in him and his temple, considering where the notes kept getting left. Ruven being almost killed had been the turning point.

Torzek kneeled on a small cushion, praying in front of the statue of Nillioth. He'd tried sleeping, but fear kept him awake. Even with Shael not far away, he was worried that he wouldn't wake up again if he closed his eyes.

A knock on the temple door pulled him away from praying, and he went to open it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shael emerge from the backrooms of the temple.

He opened the door and felt his shoulders slump in relief at Aira standing outside.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, even as he moved aside to let his daughter into the temple.

She stepped inside and handed him a piece of parchment. "This was on the stairs outside."

Torzek held the drawing; the ink was dried. Remembering the ink on the stone floor of the mortuary, he almost dropped the paper in disgust. It depicted Ruven on the floor, beaten and bloodied, and himself swinging a fire poker, a shout on his lips. Torzek turned the paper over and stared at the words:

SHADED NOT YET STAINED

He handed it to Shael, who took the paper with a concerned look. He'd told her about the man bleeding ink, and she'd looked just as sick as he felt at the notion.

Aira spoke after a moment, "We found some information I wanted to tell you." She took a deep breath and then continued, "The drawing style matches a killer called The Illustrator. He's left a trail of bodies tainted with necromancy and inked drawings from Zalfari to here."

Torzek felt his heartbeat speed up. The necromancer was from Wirrowwir; they'd been correct. "And he's never been caught?"

Aira shook her head. "It's just not that he's never been caught. These killings go back to 6198. He's been at this for almost 200 years."

Out of the corner of his eye, Torzek saw Shael freeze.

Aira continued, "I was thinking that perhaps he's a caeles. No mortal lives that long." She turned to face Shael.

"Not a caeles," Shael said, voice stiff. "We don't bleed ink."

Aira jolted, "This guy bleeds ink? How do you know that?"

Torzek spoke, "I managed to injure him when I was running him off from killing Ruven."

Aira mulled over that knowledge for a moment. "So he's not a caeles, but he's been doing this far too long to be a mortal."

"How confident are you that it's the same person?" Torzek asked.

"Absolutely sure. We put our best people on it. The Illustrator has a very distinct style. I don't really understand it, but I guess it has something to do with the strokes of the quill and lines? not my area."

"What kind of creature is he then?" Torzek muttered, only half hearing Aira's explanation.

"Whatever he is, he's even more dangerous than we thought," Shael said. "Nothing natural lives that long."

"Why don't you come stay at the house for a little bit. Just until things get back to normal," suggested Aira to Torzek.

The priest shook his head. "There's no need for me to intrude. People here depend on me. I need to stay. Even just this one day being closed will have us overwhelmed for a week at least."

"Even just stay for the night. That way you're not alone here." Aira's voice was calm, but Torzek could see the tension in her shoulders.

Torzek saw Shael disappear into thin air from the corner of his eye. "Aira, people are counting on me. As a priest of Nillioth, it is my duty to take care of all those who-"

She cut him off, her calm, unaffected facade cracking, "You can lie to yourself but not to me," She threw her arms into the air. "When you don't want to face something, you throw yourself into your work. You'll take care of everyone else, put the needs of Nillioth over yourself and your own family. Just like you did when mother died!" She took a deep breath, her face set in a scowl.

For a brief moment, her God-Mark of Nillioth had flared with a deep blue light on her right cheek before disappearing back behind carefully applied makeup.

Long-buried guilt surfaced, and Torzek let out a sigh. "You're right, I shouldn’t stay at the temple."

A thin smile. "Okay. Just knock when you get there. I'll be awake."

"Thank you."

Aira left, making sure to close the temple door behind her gently.

A few seconds later, Shael reappeared, startling Torzek.

"Ruven's awake."

~~

Ruven took a shaky breath. "About 6 months ago, a man approached me asking if I'd do him a favor. He needed some documents burned. I refused at first, but he offered more money than I could refuse. My mother is sick. So, I figured it was just some papers. Slowly he started asking me to burn more things like clothes, books, and jewelry. I slipped it in with the bodies we were cremating so no one would notice. I knew it was wrong, but I thought they'd kill me if I stopped, and my mother’s medicine isn’t getting less expensive." He gave a weak laugh. "I almost died anyway."

Shael had a large frown on her face. "You're lucky Torzek heard that table fall over."

Ruven nodded. "Yeah, I guess me confessing what I told you made him decide to not kill me."

Torzek's head snapped up. "What do you mean? I thought the table tipped in the fight?"

"No. He immobilized me before I even knew he was there and just started hitting me with a big book. He asked me if I knew he was there. I confessed to everything, and he just stopped and tipped over the table really loudly. Then he started hitting me again."

"So he wanted Torzek to find him," Shael said.

"Sounds like it," Torzek agreed.

"I mean," Ruven started, "This guy has killed people stronger and younger than you. I think if he wanted to, both of us would've been killed last night."

"You're probably right."

Ruven was silent. Then, "What happens to me now?"

Torzek sighed. "I can't let you continue to work in the mortuary."

"I understand." Ruven sounded resigned.

"Let me think about it. We'll figure something out."

"Thank you."

~~

Torzek stood in front of his old home, memories racing through his mind. He hadn't been back since his wife, Silavanna, had passed away six years ago.

It looked the same; sandstone bricks painted bright orange that shone in the setting sun. The last time he'd seen the place, the paint had been peeling. Aira must have repainted recently.

He used the metal knocker to rap on the stone door.

The door swung open after a moment, but instead of Aira, a young elven man stood in the entrance.

He smiled and stepped out of the way. "Come on in. Aira just had to run out. She asked me to let you in. You must be her father, Torzek, right?"

Torzek nodded and entered the home, following the slight dip of the floor downwards until they stood in the sitting room. It looked almost exactly the same as he remembered. He was cataloging the differences in his mind when a light cough pulled him from his thoughts.

"Sorry," he muttered to the young man.

The elf smiled, and Torzek caught sight of small, burnt numbers on the side of his neck. "Not a problem. Aira asked me to make sure you were comfortable. The guest room is made up, but your room is also available if you'd prefer." His voice got quieter, "She hasn't touched it."

"That will be fine. Thank you…" Torzek trailed off, realizing he didn't know the young man's name.

"Iolrath," the young man provided.

"Iolrath, thank you." Torzek couldn't help the question that came next. "Are you the one who gave Aira the actarile?"

"I am."

Torzek couldn't figure out what else to say, so he just nodded in response. "I'm going to retire for the night."

The elf smiled at him. "Please. Aira said you've been looking exhausted whenever she sees you lately. A good night's sleep will help."

Torzek smiled back at him before leaving for the bedroom he'd once shared with his wife.

He entered the room, and for a split second, he could see Silavanna lying on the bed, a smile lighting up her face. Her God-Mark connected her to Lisse, Goddess of the Sky. She'd held so much favor with the Goddess that her God-Mark had stretched across her face. It continued down the left side of her neck and finished on top of her shoulder blade. The mark had been a swirling pattern of light, sky-blue feathers that contrasted with the deep brown of her skin. 

His heart wrenched when he blinked and her shimmering black hair and playful, brown eyes were replaced by the blanket his mother had made as a wedding gift so long ago.

He walked further into the room and sank down onto the bed. The place was familiar but yet missing the most crucial element. Tears gathered in his eyes, unbidden, as he felt the loss of Silavanna all over again.

~~

"Torzek!" Iolrath yelled, his voice walking the priest up.

For a moment, Torzek felt disoriented. He'd fallen asleep in his old bed, clothes still on, dried tears on his cheeks.

He leaped up and ran out into the sitting room. Iolrath and Aira were standing there, looking stricken.

He moved straight to Aira. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Lord Vakas' manor is on fire. It's The Illustrator," she said, voice shaking.

"How do you know?"

Iolrath spoke up, "We just got confirmation that the smuggling ring The Illustrator has been targeting had more backing than we could've ever guessed. I'd bet anything Lord Vakas was the one behind it all."

Aira continued, "As well, the Illustrator had left this on the door when I got back." She handed Torzek a note. Dripping ink read:

THE BOOKEND OF DAMNATION

Torzek clutched the note, parchment crumpling, ink staining his hand.

He made his way to the door. "I'll be back."

Aira was silent, and he left, closing the door just in time to hear her voice. "Please be careful."

Outside, the sky was awash in an orange glow. He could see flames licking the sky with a pillar of smoke curling into the air. Torzek took off running toward the burning manor.

By the time he reached it, the flames were even higher and the pillar of smoke had started to blow with the wind, settling over Heartfair.

Torzek stood, transfixed, at the manor. People were scrambling, desperately trying to put out the fire. Torzek caught sight of a few caeles even helping with the effort, most likely from the temples that resided not too far away.

It took him a moment to spot Lord Vakas in all the destruction. The Lord was one of the most prominent nobles in all of Aiova, highly favored by the King. Yet, there he was, tied to the highest tower of his manor as the place burned around him.

Torzek spotted a green soul floating beside the Lord's body. After a moment of staying still, it moved into the dead body.

Lord Vakas started thrashing, clawing at the ropes holding him in place.

A crack split the air, and fire shot up through the tower, engulfing Lord Vakas and making the roof collapse in on itself, taking the man with it.

Torzek watched, unable to turn away, as the green soul floated up and rested on top of the fire.

The rustle of paper and scratching of a quill on parchment had him turning around, looking for the source of the noise. To be able to hear that noise through the cacophony of the manor fire, Torzek knew The Illustrator had to be close by.

He followed the sound away from the fire and into an alley. All the while cursing himself for potentially walking right into some kind of trap.

Suddenly the noise stopped as he reached a dead end. A wooden post was set up beside the stone wall. Nailed to the wood was a piece of parchment.

Torzek pulled it from the nail and examined it. The drawing depicted the manor on fire, complete with Lord Vakas tied to the turret. In the bottom corner was his back, showing him staring up at the building.

Torzek turned over the paper to see the inked words he'd come to expect. Except, this time, it was an address:

HEARTFAIR DOCK, BUILDING #54

~~

Torzek opened the door and it creaked, shattering the eerie silence.

He stepped carefully into an almost empty room, making sure to pull the door shut behind him. While he was almost certain this was a bad idea, he hadn't been able to stop himself from going. If The Illustrator really wanted to kill him, he'd had ample opportunity before now.

A table beside the door had a small candle sitting on it. Torzek picked up the candle, leaving the crumpled parchment note on the table in its place.

An open door at the other end of the room drew his attention and he made his way over. He swept his eyes through the room, waiting for something to happen, his body tense.

He moved further and crossed the threshold into what looked to be a small bedroom. The room was bare, save for an unmade bed pushed against the wall and a small table with one rickety-looking stool.

The table was covered in parchment and pots of ink. He moved closer and reached out a hesitant hand to pick up the drawing on the top of the pile. 

It was a detailed sketch of the cargo ship the smugglers had been using. He lifted it to take a closer look but was distracted by the drawing that had been underneath; An uncannily realistic portrait of Ruven while he was working.

The drawing under that made Torzek's blood run cold. It was of Aira and Iolrath, standing close together, in the middle of a conversation. Aira's actarile glinted in the sunlight just outside her house.

He picked up the last paper that had a picture on it. It was just of him, kneeling in front of the statue of Nillioth, head bent in prayer.

The Illustrator had been watching everything.

He heard the front door creak and a rustle of paper and straightened up, dropping the parchment back to the table.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he went back to the door. It was wide open with a cool breeze from the bay wafting in. There was still a red light in the sky from the fire that seemed to spill into the room.

He looked to the side where the crumpled note had been sitting. It was gone.

The table now had a piece of parchment lying overtop of something large Torzek couldn't make out.

He picked up the parchment to see a drawing, still wet with ink, of him standing in the bedroom holding the other pictures.

He pulled his eyes from the drawing to see what the parchment had been hiding. A large, leather-bound book with metal corners and fastenings. The book was stained with what Torzek could only assume was blood. A few strands of pale blue hair, the same shade Torzek knew Lord Vakas possessed, had been caught underneath one of the metal corners.

The priest swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He hesitantly undid the fastener that held the book open and turned to the first page. Blood stained the parchment inside as well. Strange runes he didn’t recognize stared up at him from where the book rested on the table.

Torzek felt something dripping on his hand and turned the parchment with the drawing on it over:

MY WORK OF DELIVERING THE DAMNED ENDS