Page 69 of The Wind Dancer
“It’s time for me to introduce myself. My name is Fouche.” It was an extremely fitting name for a man like him. In one of the dialects, it was the name for the deadly horned viper. A highly venomous snake that showed no signs of aggression before it’d suddenly strike. “And now it’s time for us to have a walk...”
He ran his fingers over the wall, and with a soft sound, a panel slid aside, revealing a dark passage. The smell of dust and something acrid hit my nose. Fouche didn’t turn around, he just stepped into the darkness, as if he were its master.
I followed. The tunnel was narrow, the stone walls felt like they were pressing in from all sides, the air was damp, and filled with the smell of decay. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear water drip, like a slow, endless timer.
We exited into a room dimly lit by lanterns. The pungent, sickly-sweet smell immediately let me know where we were. Rows of clay vessels, wooden boxes with sealed bags. This was where they kept the drugs. My conclusion that the warehouse was here was confirmed. Now it was clear why the tunnels were inhabited. They were using them to sneak around the city.
“I didn’t know you were involved in this as well,” I said, looking around.
Fouche glanced at me, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips.
“It’s just money. If an idiot wants to kill himself, why not help?” He shrugged, continuing to walk. “Their cravings are their problem. We just provide them with what they want. Is that wrong?”
I didn’t say anything. As much as I wanted to stab him in the liver, I needed information. I just followed him, trying not to look at the faces of the people working here. But even a cursory glance was enough to see that these people weren’t here of their own free will.
We passed through the warehouse, took another narrow passage, and finally Fouche opened a massive door decorated with ancient symbols.
The walls of the dark room were hidden in shadow; it looked like some kind of altar room from ancient legends. What had I gotten myself into this time?
Several oil lamps flickered with a dim light, casting writhing shadows throughout the room. In the center of the room was an altar made of bones. It was massive, its surface smoothly polished, but I could still make out the twistedvertebrae, locked joints, fangs and claws frozen in a silent agonized scream.
The wind, which I barely felt because of the earth above us, whispered to me that this wasn’t just a place of worship, but a place of power hostile to it. And now this dark, insatiable power was watching me.
Fouche turned to me, his eyes glittering in the semi-darkness.
“You will take an oath here,” his voice was calm, almost gentle. “A blood oath of loyalty.”
He gestured at the altar. I didn’t move. This place seemed alive. I could almost feel it observing me, judging me.
“This place reeks of cultist nonsense. How are you different from them?”
“The cultists only serve, and the demons reward them with crumbs. We make deals and get the power of the lords from the Other side. It’s completely different.”
Seriously? There was practically no difference then. This place unnerved me, and it felt like the place from my dreams.
I looked into his eyes. They no longer had the look of a cunning and dangerous man, they just showed a mad zealot. I had to act.
The light of the lamps trembled like a frightened animal. Fouche stood in front of the altar, caressing the amulet like a lover.
“The oath is simple. Drop blood on the bone, say a name in the dark, in praise of the lord.”
His voice rasped like a blunt knife skipping over a stone. He was mad.
I took a step back.
“You said we were making a deal. This is too much. I’m not ready to sell my soul to demons.”
Fouche smiled a blissful smile.
“Too late. This is the only way to prove your loyalty. Make the oath!” His voice turned high pitched.
My fist shot forward like a snake straight into his solar plexus. Fouche doubled over, gasping hoarsely, and I tore the amulet from his grip. The deal was above all!
And then he laughed. It was so hoarse and brief, it almost sounded like a raven’s caw. A narrow blade slid out of his sleeve.
The metal flashed in the light.
I staggered back as it sliced through my shoulder. The pain spread through my body like fire. Blood splattered onto the altar.
