The Weaver's Source

Chapter 105

Leaving the inn went smoothly. No one was moving and everything was locked up still. Once the door was unlocked with a swift wave of Grigore's hand, we made for the border of the town, desperate to find Nanny Rutt and warn her of Sorin. I just hoped she could guide us or give us some kind of clue as to where he was hiding. He was nearby, we knew that much, but the land here was void of much life or notable caves and ruins. I hadn't even seen that fort of my dreams across the tundra.

But then we ran into trouble.

"Grigore, where are you going at such an hour?" Emil called to us sharply as we made our way through the town hurriedly, marching through the thick snow and bitter wind.

I jumped lightly and huddled close to Grigore, gripping my hood and pulling it down sharply protectively. When I felt a hum of livid hate and bloody rage tear through Grigore, making my magic wobble in worry, I grasped his hand tightly and pressed myself against his arm, singing soothingly to him and letting my taste fill him. Glancing at Emil, I noticed something off I hadn't realised before. His eyes, they were so alive yet it was as if I was looking at someone underneath Emil's face.

"I could ask you the same thing." Grigore replied guardedly, trying his hardest to hide his hostility.

Emil smile remained in place but it was fixed and sharp, like I wolf was smiling at us. "I often come out for strolls at the moment. Just checking the town is secure."

Grigore grunted. "Well Lyra and I are off to the witch. I need to double check she wasn't lying."

"You need to kill her is what you need to do." Emil said stiffly. "But don't let me keep you. Go on your way."

Grigore said nothng more and hurried me along, wanting to get me as far away from Emil as possible. As we headed towards the end of the road, I looked back at Emil and felt a shiver run down my spine when he was staring at us, lifeless and emotionless. All hostility and life had fled from the man and he was left in the middle of the road, staring gormlessly at us.

I glanced up at Grigore sharply, wanting to tell him, but the scowl on his face told me he already knew. Emil was dead too. Everyone was dead. No one here had ever been alive.

*

"No." Rutt groaned as she pulled at her straw grey hair, her pale eyes red from tears. "All those people. Good people. Walking around. Dead. Rotting. Crawling with maggots."

She wailed again, making my fingers twitch to reach out to her. The moment Grigore had told her that the every townsfolk was a rotting corpse and nothing but an army of puppets, Nanny Rutt had crumpled into a howling mess. Both anger and sorrow filled the old witch and the loss she felt was clear. It made me feel sorrow to have to tell her.

"You're certain there are no survivors?" She asked, clutched at Grigore's chest with gnarled crooked fingers. "There must be someone. A child maybe."

"I didn't destroy anyone else or break anymore wards, Rutt." Grigore said darkly, barely hiding his own rage and disgust. He hated the news as much as she did.

"All the children are dead?"

"Everyone is lifeless in that town."

Grigore only nodded sharply once before he glanced down at the witch who stumbled away from him, shaking, making my frown deepen. Seeing Nanny Rutt so distraught over the town was heart-breaking but neither of us could lie to her.

"I had known. I could feel it. But I hoped. I hoped maybe someone was just smothering it, maybe I was growing too old to feel as I could before." She stammered then fury blanketed her. "Why? Who did this, Weaver?"