Necrophobia by Mark Devaney

going to investigate some more of the journals. Maybe find some local information.” She shrugged and avoided eye-contact. “It’s a long-shot but I think it’s worth a try.”
    Sevaur leaned back and thought for a few moments.
    “You could come with me. If you wanted, that is. I’m going either way mind.” She flashed a half-hearted smile. “But it’d be nice to have back-up.”
    “Well to be honest Claire,” He said leaning forward again, keeping his face as deadpan as he could manage. Her smile flickered but she remained determined. “You had me at ‘I’ve found something interesting’.”
    She rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Good man.”
    “But we don’t know anything about the mainland.” He protested, trying to find holes in the plan. Always one for preparation.
    “Did you forget? We have a friend in Kriegsfeld. I’ve already told him.”
    “Adrian?” He shook his head. “It’s been three years. What about—”
    “I’ve already booked transportation. You can pay me back later.”
    He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Fine. You got me. Least it’ll get me out of the house and off the island for a bit. Reiner was pretty disappointed I turned down Amelia’s offer.”
    Her smile faltered.
    “Ah.”
    “What? What is it?”
    “I meant to say, I’ve heard Reiner’s travelling to Kriegsfeld as well. To speak with the High-Priestess and the Inquisition. Commander’s orders apparently.” She hesitated and looked away from his protesting face. “On the same ship.”
    Seeing his dejected face, she laughed. “Your brother casts a long shadow doesn’t he.”
    “More than you know.” He stood up and sighed. “I’d better pack my things then. Don’t suppose you did that for me too?”
    What do I get myself into? he thought as he stepped out into the fresh sea-air.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     

     
    The docks of Kriegsfeld teemed with life and bustling commerce, trade ships unloaded their cargo and despite the heavy downpour merchants continued to peddle their wares under drab canopies and rooftop overhangs. The darkening clouds soaking the market in thick sheets of rain, drains overflowed and gutters spilled into the streets. Even over the salt-drenched air the unmistakable smell of ash and burning filtered down throughout the port from the nearby factory districts. Smokestacks billowed black smog into the evening sky as metalworking factories drove forward industry and technology. The printing press, iron mines, thriving Spellstone-fuelled machines and textile industry propelling Kriegsfeld to be one of the Imperial leaders of commerce and innovation. Despite recent developments the city-port still bore signs of its ancient, paranoid ways, a constant vanguard against the threat of vampiric invasion from the northern cursed lands. Watchtowers loomed over all those entering the city, heavily reinforced stone walls stood guard.
    “Don’t like the look of the Night Guard to be honest.” Sevaur said shielding his face from the rain.
    Sorting through the incoming passengers and cargo the hooded and silver-masked forms of the Night Guard officers combed through the crowd. Their long black leather coats shielding them from the worst of the rain with a silver breastplate fastened underneath. Their leather gloves and boots lined with silver spikes. Claire noticed their weapons were always drawn, as they combed through the crowd, some wielding crossbows pointed towards the floor, others favoured longswords. The Night Guard seemed to favour ruthless pragmatism over the ornate and runic iconography of the Caelite armours.
    “You’re not a fan of the masks?” She asked as a sudden gust of wind soaked nearby passengers in rain-water from a flat rooftop. “They’re not the friendliest of faces I’ll give you that.”
    “It’d be a shame to hide a face like this.” He joked back half-heartedly, she could see he was too distracted watching the imposing masked