by D. E. Morris
“Since the explosion in the market, I don't think there is such a thing.”
Long before Killian was close enough to the gate to see who stood on the other side of the portcullis, he could hear the wails of a woman loud and clear. One of the guards hurried forward to meet him, falling into stride beside him as they made their way closer to the gridded iron gate. “What have you learned?” asked Killian.
“Little. She won't be calmed. She just keeps crying and begging for help over and over. She's bleeding all over everything.”
“Did you send for a healer?”
The guard, a young man, gave him a look that was regretful. “I'll go find one right now.”
“See that you hurry.” Killian hardly paused as he reached the gatehouse. Another armored man opened the side door for him, letting Killian pass through without compromising castle security. As soon as he stepped out on the other side of the gate, the woman practically launched herself at him, clawing at his fine clothes with her bloody hands.
“Help me!” she sobbed. “Please, you have the high queen's ear! They took my husband. They took my family. Help me.”
“I cannot help you until you calm down,” he told her, his voice even and gentle. With a firm grip on her shoulders, he held her away from him to get a good look at her. Wisps of black hair had escaped from under the tan cloth that covered her head, and her gray linen dress and apron were spotted in blood, likely from her hands. No other injury was apparent, but still he asked, “Where were you wounded?”
“My hands and my leg. Please! My family!”
Killian kept a hold on her and glanced down. Sure enough, there was a thin trail of blood running down the side of her worn shoes. “You must calm down,” he told her again, his voice firmer than before. “Sit here.” Leading her away from the gate, he helped her sit on the half wall that lined the path down to the village. “Tell me your name,” he coaxed.
“Cirilla. My family...”
“Tell me what happened to your family, Cirilla.”
The woman hiccuped on a sob and shook her head. She placed her hands in her lap, palms upward, and looked at the gashes in the tender skin that bled so freely. “I was cooking. My husband was inside trying to resole a pair of boots – that's his trade when we get poor crops – and my children were outside. Suddenly, I heard my daughter scream. Not like a normal scream, mind. She was right terrified. I could hear it in her voice.” She paused as the side door opened again, continuing only when an older man with a worn leather bag crouched before her to address her injuries. “Before I could even look out the door to see what was the matter, men in masks came busting in, each of them with one of my children in their grasp, daggers at their necks.”
“What kind of masks?” Killian asked.
“It was made of bone and feathers...maybe scales. It looked like the skull of a dragon. They kept saying they were there to cleanse the land of Gaelic blood.” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes and her shoulders shook. “Oh, Giver...please don't let them kill my family. Please help me!”
Killian put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to get in the way of the older man as he worked to ease her physical pain. “Cirilla, I will find your family, but I have a few more questions before I can do that. How is it that you got away?”
“I don't know,” she sobbed. “My husband, he's Gaelic, and my children got it from him. I don't have a lick of Gael in me. I tried to fight them and one of them hit me over the head with the hilt of his weapon. When I came to and saw them all gone, I didn't know what else to do but to come here. It's already been too long!”
“All right. Stay here.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“Just stay here and let this man look after you. Can you do that for me?” She nodded meekly, and Killian slipped back in through the door. He told the guards to keep an eye on the woman, but had nothing else to say to them before hurrying back across the castle grounds. If he was surprised to see Ashlynn and Cavalon still outside waiting for him with Gianara hanging back in the doorway behind them, his expression gave nothing away. There was no time for any of them to ask what was happening; Killian gave them the full report without prompting.
“Cleanse the land?” Ashlynn fumed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we need to act fast,” Cavalon rumbled. Of Killian, he asked. “Are you going to go out looking for them?”
“With Her Majesty's permission, yes.”
“You more than have my permission. I want these men found and brought back here.” She glanced at Cavalon. “Alive.”
“They'll be alive. I just can't promise if they'll be able to walk.”
“I would like to go as well,” said Gianara as she came forward. There was a cold fury that radiated off her body. “Two dragons in the air searching will be better than an entire army on horseback.”
Killian looked to Ashlynn, who gave a slight nod of her head.
“I will gather my fastest riders and we will be away at once. My Queen, I must insist that you stay inside with the others until these men are caught. It is my duty to protect you and if I am not here, your safest place would be inside the castle with Cailin and the others.”
Ashlynn nodded again and turned for the open doorway, but paused to give Cavalon one more look of warning. “Alive.”
He cracked his neck and his knuckles in response.
Chapter Ten
The rumble of the horses’ hooves was like thunder across the plains. With wrapped and bandaged hands, the woman held tight to Killian as his horse led the charge far out past Altaine Village, leaving the castle looming behind them. Occasionally she would look up at the two dragons flying overhead, but when Killian spared a glance back at her, she usually had her head down and her arms fastened securely around his waist. They had decided to bring the woman home first, knowing if they found her family that there was a real possibility that they had already been killed. There might be clues left behind as well, something that could lead them in the right direction instead of searching blindly all over Siness. Cirilla directed them where to go, but was mute otherwise.
They had been riding hard for nearly half an hour before they reached a small farm home with three cows grazing lazily behind. Killian dismounted as the two Gaels landed and shifted, gentle as he helped the woman down.
“I want to come with you,” she protested.
“No you don't,” Cavalon assured, stalking into the house without invitation. The others followed soon behind, taking in the simple furniture and the way everything had been turned over in an obvious scuffle. Gianara found something of interest that appeared to have been snagged on a nail sticking out of the doorway and was careful as she pulled it free. “What is it?” Cavalon asked, watching her from across the room.
“A feather.” Her brows lowered. “This is not a bird feather.”
Killian stepped up beside her and looked at the rust colored fluff between her fingers. For the first time since he'd spoken to the woman, he looked truly angry. “Hatchling down.”
Gianara nodded. “If they are wearing dragon skulls on their heads, a hatchling would be the only one small enough to work.”
“I'm going back up,” growled Cavalon, disappearing back outside. Gianara and the rest of the men trickled out after, but Killian stayed where he was, Cirilla watching him.
“What is that sound?” he asked, his head tilting as though it would help him listen better. The woman looked at him in confusion, but Killian was hardly dissuaded. It was muffled, but it sounded like crying. “Is anyone else here?”
“No. They took my entire family!”
He walked slowly though the house, pausing now and then to listen. Eventually, his attention fell on a large chest on the far side of the room. Bits of leather, small nails, and a hammer sat atop it, but Killian swept them away without care and pulled the heavy lid up. A wail greeted him and he gasped, seeing a little girl not yet a year old, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her pudgy littl
e face was red, her lilac eyes bright even beneath matted hair that was so pale blonde it could have passed for silver. He whipped his head around to the woman who stood there in complete shock. In the space of a breath, she ran forward to scoop the wailing child up. “I thought they took her!” she cried. “Oh, my baby. My poor baby. My husband must have hidden her as the men came in. Oh, dear Giver and His mercies.” Despite how upset the child was, Cirilla peppered her face with kisses.
“Stay here,” Killian ordered. “Calm her down and keep her quiet.”
“Do you think they'll be back?” she worried.
“It is not likely, but all the same...we will return with news as quickly as we can.” He ducked out of the house to find Cavalon and Gianara shifted once more and taking to the sky. Looking to the small handful of men he'd brought with him, he nodded to one who had yet to mount his horse again. “Stay here and keep careful watch.” The man nodded with no argument, only observant as Killian climbed up into his saddle and spurred his horse into a gallop.
Once more, they flew across the open plains, slowing when they reached other outlying homesteads to try to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, though Killian knew it was a lost cause. To see Sinessian knights in armor following the Captain of Guard and two large Gaels in the sky was hard to ignore. Now and then one of Killian's men would peel off to search the edge of the woods, but for the most part, they followed Gianara and Cavalon. It felt like a lost cause until Cavalon gave a low, angry trumpet and surged forward. Killian pushed his horse on as fast as it would go, racing to keep up with the dragon that would outfly him if the distance was great enough. He leaned forward in the saddle as they sped up the side of a steep hill, memories of the night he had fled the castle in search of the kidnapped children coming to mind. Something told him that when he reached the crest, whatever he would find would stay in his memory for just as long.
“Oh, dear Giver,” moaned one of his men, trotting up beside him. In the distance, far across the valley below, they could see four tall structures that had been erected. They were too far away to make out anything distinctive, but they could see four bodies, one adult and three children, strung upside down, one on each structure. With a harsh whip of his reins, Killian pushed his horse onward. Cavalon and Gia were already shifted by the time he was close, and working on getting the adult male down from the stripped tree trunk to which he was lashed.
“Their wrists have been cut,” Gianara told him. Blood had formed murky and congealed pools below each structure, but it was paid no mind as everyone worked together to free the family. One of the children, a girl no older than six, was already dead. The soldier who cut her down placed her on the ground with gentility before helping the others. Though they were unconscious, the father and the other two children, an older girl and a younger boy, were all still alive.
“This one has a thready pulse,” Cavalon reported, holding the boy in his arms.
“I will go get help.” Gianara shifted quickly and flew back in the direction of the castle.
“Wrists and necks slashed,” Cavalon muttered sadly.
“But poorly done,” Killian observed. “Whoever did this either did not know exactly where to cut, or was hesitant in their actions. That may be the grace that saves them.”
Cavalon looked at the dead little girl and the boy dying in his arms. “Not all of them.” He brought the child over to where his living sister lay so his lacerations could be bound with the saddle blanket that was being cut into bandages. Taking his tunic off, Cavalon proceeded to rip the thin fabric into long strips that he used to help tie the bandages in place. The men worked in silence, taking turns with cleaning, bandaging and wrapping. Once that was done and there was little more to do than wait, Killian ordered his men to keep watch, then asked for Cavalon's help to knock down the trunks. They were covered in blood themselves by the time it was done, and as Cavalon set fyre to the wood, Killian lifted a sleeve to wipe blood from his own cheek.
“It's spreading,” the Badarian said, looking at the blood on the ground. “Maybe the cuts were intentionally shallow.”
Killian glanced at him. “You think they were trying to bleed them out slowly, hoping the Gaelic part of them would be gone by the time they were surely found?”
“It's possible. If even one person was talking about it at the summit or during the games, it's going to spread like wildfire during a drought. Fear will only fan those flames.”
The younger man shook his head, hands on his hips. “I blame myself. I checked the doors and every window myself the day you all discussed the blood purge. Apparently, I did not do a thorough enough job.”
Cavalon shrugged. “Don't beat yourself up about it too much. Ashlynn and Jaryn trusted each and every guard that surrounded that room, both inside and outside the castle. Clearly one of them wasn't worthy of that trust. All it would take was a slight crack in a door or window. We wouldn't have even noticed, especially if it happened while we were talking.”
“I will find whoever it was,” Killian vowed. “No matter what it takes.”
They watched the fyre in silence for a moment. Before long, Cavalon glanced into the distance in the hope of seeing Gianara returning. When there was nothing but clouds to be found, he fixed a hesitant gaze on Killian. “You're all right, Killian.” The younger man looked at him with a brow raised in question. “I mean, I didn't like you at first. I thought Jaryn was an idiot for trusting his wife to you and I thought you were going to take advantage of that, but you take your job seriously. You protect them and shield them, even if it comes at a personal cost to you. That makes you okay in my book.”
“The boy has passed,” one of the soldiers announced, making the two men return to the dying family. Killian checked for a pulse to be certain, and when he found none, he hung his head. Only minutes later, Gianara's call could be heard before she was seen, giving them hope that at least the father and one of the children might be spared. Seconds ticked by before the dragon came soaring over the treeline that framed half of the valley. Killian rose as she descended and hastened forward to help the old doctor slide to the ground. As they rushed back, he was filled in on what they had found before he got to work.
Gianara joined them in her human form and looked toward the little boy. He had been set by his deceased sister, both of them appearing to be sleeping were it not for the blood on them. “He died just a few minutes ago,” Cavalon told her when he saw where her attention was. She nodded but said nothing.
With little else for the men to do while the healer worked, Killian gathered the soldiers to the side, his mind already three steps ahead of what was going on in the moment. He knew they would be lucky if no one else had seen the bodies before they'd arrived, though some part of him wondered if the remote location hadn't been chosen for a reason. If this was meant to be a sign, a way to frighten people, it would have been done much closer to a village or even another single homestead. Why take the family so far away from other residential areas if they didn't want certain people to find it?
“This will not be spoken of once we leave here,” he told the men with quiet authority. “What we have seen will not be passed to anyone else, neither will it be recounted among the few of you. The safety of our high queen and the prince are at stake, and it is our sworn duty to keep danger from their doorstep. If word of something like this spreads, it will eventually be heard by someone who will be stupid enough to try it with the royal family. This is a secret we must closely guard. Is that understood?” They nodded, looking from one to another in a way that made Killian hesitant in trusting they grasped the importance of the situation. He took the time to make eye contact with each of them individually before leaning in. “If I so much as hear a whisper of this, I will have each and every one of you tried and hanged for treason. Do I make myself clear?”
All of them stood a little straighter in their armor, echoing, “Yes, my lord,” in near unison.
“They are ready for transport,” t
he healer announced, stealing everyone's attention. “Both will survive the trip back to the castle. Much more can be done for them there.”
Cavalon turned in Killian's direction. “Gia and I can take them.”
The younger man glanced at the two dead children. “I would like to give them a burial, first. There is no time to fetch their mother and it would draw too much unwanted attention to bring them back to the castle. We have no choice but to bury them here.”
“That's easy enough to do,” Cavalon assured. He turned to Gianara. “Can you take these three back?”
“Certainly.”
“We'll be right behind you.”
She nodded and backed away to shift yet again. Her transformation was not as quick as it usually was, telling of her body's weariness. Still, once the old healer was seated securely on her back, she flung her leathery wings wide and jumped into the air. It took a few wingbeats to level off, then, with gentility that seemed impossible for a beast so large and menacing, she lowered herself to carefully take the father in one taloned foot and the surviving child in the other. Once she was on her way back to the castle, Cavalon shifted as well to use his own talons to dig deep into the earth and pull a clump of the ground free. He repeated the process once more before Killian raised his hand to stop him from diving down again. With a nod to his men, they separated into two groups, each taking a child to lower down into the make-shift graves. Though he had no words to speak aloud, once his men were clear of the pits, Killian closed his eyes and bowed his head. All was silent and still until he looked up again and backed away. Cavalon took this as a signal and began reversing his work, filling in the holes before draping the top layer of soil back across the disturbed earth. Focused, the men all moved forward once more to stomp the ground back into place in the effort to make it look as natural as possible.