Excerpt: Deathward

The two men rode in the cart and didn’t speak. The silence wore on them differently. On the younger it chafed, and he fidgeted, looking first at his companion, and then at their cargo sleeping soundly in the back. The older wore it heavily, but grimly. The weight of it and their duty dragged his shoulders down. He stared straight ahead as he held the reins, leading the horses down the narrow forest road.
The younger man could bear it no longer, “Are you sure?”
“Sure?” The older man did not turn and look at his companion.
“I mean, are you really sure?” The younger man motioned at the sleeping girl in the back of the cart.
“Not for me to decide whether or not I’m sure,” he said. “Council decided. All I did was lose the draw.”
The young man sighed. He tried the silence on for a while longer, then continued, “But do you think we’re doing the right thing?”
“Right or not it needs be done.”
“That’s not what –“
“If she’s what they think she is, it’s the only thing to do.”
“I just don’t see why – “
The old man looked over his shoulder. “You know what happened if we didn’t put her to sleep and drag her out here? You know how else they get rid of them?”
“No,” the young man said, “I’ve never seen one before.”
“They awaken and nothing can hurt them. Happens usually around this age, so we’re lucky there, we’d have never got the drop on her – drugs don’t work on them when they’re active.”
“But how – “
The old man interrupted, “If you got an awake one, there ain’t nothing much to do but wait for them to sleep naturally.”
“Then you take them out to the woods?”
The old man didn’t answer for some time and he turned away. “Then you paint the wards around their house and wait.”
The young man put his arms around himself as if to ward off a chill. “That’s awful.”
The old man made a sound that could be a laugh or a scoff, “They starve to death, eventually, like anyone else. It takes a long time, though, and it’s not pretty. They usually scream, happened in the town once when I was a lad. It’s better to catch them young and do it this way.”
“What if she isn’t?”
“If she isn’t what?” The old man glared.
“What if she isn’t…” The young man looked around furtively and lowered his voice, “what if she isn’t a deathward?”
The old man didn’t answer for some time. “Then, we’ve done a terrible thing.”