Dagger and Scythe

by Emilie Knight

  “I didn’t know where you went! I searched the entire fucking place.” It felt like she was boiling over.

  “I knew you’d find me eventually,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m bloody glorious.” She shrugged it off. “What about you?”

  She took the arm not holding the pouch and unwound the linen on his bicep. The chain there had been thick and left a hole large enough to see clean through. The circle was raw and deep, but the meat inside had stitched together. It must still hurt, but at least he was able to move.

  “How are you standing?” She took a step back for a different look. He wasn’t trembling anymore.

  “I’m sore, but I’ll manage,” he shrugged eating another peanut.

  “There were over a dozen punctures, most through your organs.”

  “They healed first. I can finally breathe without tasting blood.”

  He demonstrated with a grin, which slipped when he took in her expression.

  “Scythe, what’s wrong?” He set the pouch down.

  “I told Axe what we’re doing, and now I can’t find him.”

  Hi jaw worked to speak but nothing escaped until he said, “Why would you tell him?”

  “He came to me behind Maniodes’s back after you were taken.” Scythe described what they had talked about and that Axe didn’t trust Maniodes anymore.

  The shock in Dagger’s eyes changed to concern and disappointment. Scythe’s fist shook at her sides as the frustration boiled over.

  “You were in chains, and Axe was willing to help us. So, I went out on a limb,” she said in defense.

  “That’s a precarious limb, Scythe,” Dagger argued. “You should have told me. It’s not a bad idea, but the risk—”

  “I know the fucking risk.”

  “Then why did you take it? There’s no deadline for us to take over. Taking our time was our advantage. It could have waited three days. It’s a good idea. Axe practically lives in that library.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. We have to find him. He might be at home, but I don’t know where he lives.”

  “Or he’s singing our names to the high heavens,” Dagger sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “Look, I know it was rash—”

  “This could kill us, Scythe. We just avoided that.”

  “Then let’s go find him,” Scythe said, sharper the she intended to.

  “And run into Maniodes while we’re down there? Things are sensitive right now. What do you suggest we tell him?”

  “The sentries could help us avoid him. Do you have any other fucking ideas?”

  Dagger took a breath again but didn’t reply. He didn’t look happy.

  “Will you follow my lead while we’re down there?” he asked.

  “Fine. Just get dressed; I’ll meet you outside.” Scythe hurried off to get her weapon.

  Dagger met her by the dead tree, adjusting his coat over his shoulders. Guilt washed most of the panic away, seeing him flinch then drop his left arm.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “I should have helped with your wounds.”

  “I’m alright. I can dress myself. It felt good to stretch anyway.” He flashed a grin, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

  He took out his main dagger and stabbed it into the roots of the tree. It split open.

  There was already an awful taste in her mouth, and she didn’t need Dagger angry at her too. She didn’t want to antagonize him either. She stayed quiet.

  “Do you have any idea where he might be?” Dagger asked as they began the descent.

  Maybe he wasn’t as angry as she thought. His annoyance was justified, but he was talking to her normally.

  “He lives by the library, but I don’t know where. He visits his daughter in secret; maybe he’s with her?”

  “Maybe, but we don’t know where or who she is. Let’s focus on his home. If he lives in that castle, then Pitch probably knows where. He knows that castle better than Maniodes, I think.”

  The stairs took them to the base of Maniodes’s castle. The sentries nodded to them again as they passed.

  “Do you know where Pitch might be?” Scythe asked as they walked.

  “I know where he sleeps, but it’s close to Maniodes’s main chambers, so we’ll need to be cautious,” he replied. “Maybe a sentry could scout ahead for us.”

  They passed a couple of sentries on patrol, and more on the higher levels. Dagger went straight to what Scythe thought was a random door.

  He tried the door, but it was locked. He cursed and knocked, calling, “Pitch, you there? I need to ask you something.”

  No answer.

  Scythe wrung her hands over her weapon.

  “Shit, kid probably scampered off somewhere. It is Friday,” Dagger said dismissively.

  “Is it?” Scythe didn’t realize the day until now.

  “Yes, it’s his day off,” Dagger shrugged.

  “Maniodes might not be here then. In the castle, I mean. Axe said he never visits the library on Fridays,” Scythe explained.

  “Really? That’s the place he goes to relax when it’s not his own chambers,” Dagger speculated. “What’s so special about Fridays?”

  Scythe shrugged. “Let’s find a sentry.”

  “Right.”

  It didn’t take them long to find a couple patrolling a corridor. There was no indication of name or gender, but they were still eager to help. They each held a boney fist overwhere their heart would have been and bowed when Dagger stopped them in the corridor.

  “Do you two have names?” Dagger asked it.

  The guards nodded.

  “Is there any way you can tell it to me?”

  They both shook their heads and shrugged.

  “I should have brought something to write with.”

  Always the kind man with the formalities. Scythe just wanted to get to the point.

  “Do you know where Pitch might have gone?” Dagger asked. “Or Axe? We were looking for him first.”

  The skeletons tilted their head as if listening or thinking. Scythe started fidgeting with a piece of lace from her dress, but Dagger was as patient as ever.

  The skeletons turned back to them after a moment and beckoned them to follow. One of them led Dagger and Scythe down several dusty corridors. The rattling of the bones was almost infuriating, but Scythe controlled her temper. The damn noise couldn’t stop. Scythe eventually realized they were heading for the library again. The sentry passed the turn, though, and kept going. They were led to a tower with a set of stairs rising along its edge. The sentry stopped partway up on a landing with a door.

  Another skeleton waited for them there. This one was taller than the first. Scythe was about to ask where they were when the second skeleton handed Dagger a message.

  Dagger’s face lit up instantly at reading it.

  “We’re at Axe’s chamber, and Pitch is playing in the garden. He’s fine.”

  Relief flooded through Scythe. “Thank you both.”

  They both bowed as Chip had and left them on the landing.

  Scythe beat Dagger to the door, almost banging on it rather than simply knocking.

  “Axe, are you there? It’s Scythe.”

  A moment of silence stretched. She was about to pound on the door again, but the rattling of a lock distracted her. The door opened, revealing Axe, looking delighted.

  “Evening, Scythe,” he said. “Good to see you, Dagger. How do you feel?”

  “Fine, thank you. I was wondering if we could talk.”

  “Of course, of course, come in. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve found something fascinating.”

  Axe held the door open wider, and Scythe stepped inside with Dagger close behind.

  Axe’s home was almost circular, having to fit inside the tower, but it was spacious. Curtains hung around the bed for more privacy, and books covered nearly every surface. Scythe wondered if they were all Axe’s own collection, since he couldn’t take many from the library. Half-melted c
andles lit the room; several of them sat on the mantel over the fireplace. There was a portrait of a young black-haired girl with dark skin hung above the mantel: Axe’s daughter. There were a couple of high-backed chairs by the fire with more books stacked on the seats.

  “My apologies for the mess,” Axe said, moving the books to the desk. “Please sit.”

  Dagger did. He leaned back with a sigh, looking paler than usual, and he moved gingerly. Scythe was about to ask if he was really alright, but he caught her eye. His jaw was set, but he grinned at her. It was kind but pained. Scythe didn’t bother asking and laid a hand over his shoulder.

  “Did you get my letter?” Scythe asked, turning to Axe.

  “I did,” he said pulling out the chair from the desk and sitting beside them. “I had every intention of replying, but I was so close to finishing a translation I’d put it off.”

  “It’s been a full day since I sent that bloody bat,” Scythe accused, letting her frustration bleed through.

  “Has it?” Axe’s surprise was honest. He stroked a hand over his neck, embarrassed. “I’d lost track of the time. I burned the note, lest Maniodes find it. Not that it was incriminating, but just in case. You must have been worried.”

  “We thought Maniodes had you,” Dagger said, sitting up more.

  “I’m fairly safe here, especially today. Maniodes isn’t in the castle. He isn’t even in Skiachora,” Axe said.

  “Where does he go?” Scythe asked, curious.

  “I don’t know. Probably wandering around Ichorisis, I expect. It does get rather dismal down here. Or he visits Phaos,” Axe speculated.

  “So what did you find?” Scythe asked, taking the last chair.

  Axe lit up with excitement. “You were right to focus on the items of the gods. I started with Maniodes’s shield and expanded from there. I found this.”

  Axe plucked a huge old tome from the desk and opened it to a marked page. As he handed it to Scythe, Dagger leaned closer to see.

  There was a beautifully detailed image of a breastplate drawn on the left-hand section. The right held script in a foreign language. Scythe could hardly recognize most of the runes that made up the words.

  “How does this help?” Dagger asked. “What does it say?”

  “This language is old, ancient even. I think it was one of the first books added to that library by a forgotten bard. It was tucked away in a dusty corner. I know of this language, but I couldn’t read it right away so I brought it here to translate,” Axe explained practically bouncing in his seat.

  “So, what does it say?” Dagger asked more sternly.

  “It’s a dead language that speaks of Lumeon, the third son of Nyx, and brother to Maniodes and Phaos. Also how he was imprisoned.”

  Dagger’s eyes widened. Scythe looked back to the text. She couldn’t understand any of it, but she wanted to drink in the information.

  “Are you sure?” Dagger asked. “How can we trust this source?”

  “Well, the bard has been dead for centuries, maybe a millennia, so we can’t ask him,” Axe replied, joyous about sharing the discovery. “I have been studying this language extensively during my time here in Skiachora. It’s complex, but there’s a trick to the placement of the verb because it’s at the end of the sentence, no matter the context.”

  “Axe, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t care how the sentences are structured,” Dagger admitted.

  “Most aren’t,” Axe shrugged, unfazed, “but learning that trick helped me translate it. Once I learned Lumeon’s name, I was able to find it again and again. He was nearly erased from the histories, but he still exists in the ancient texts.”

  Axe retrieved another book from his desk. This one was smaller but just as old.

  “This one described him standing alongside Phaos and Maniodes as they created the world. Phaos created Ichorisis, and Maniodes created Skiachora, but Lumeon created the sea. Then Lumeon wanted to create his own race of beings like Phaos had. Maniodes was content with managing the dead and Phaos had the living, but Lumeon didn’t have that connection with anything. Nyx wouldn’t let him create anything other than the sea creatures that we know of today. He wasn’t allowed to make anything intelligent. Now, I think it’s because Phaos’s first men were young, she wanted to see how they turned out. Along with how quick the dead would rise for Maniodes. There’s nothing to prove that idea, though.

  “Lumeon obviously didn’t see this as fair and created his own race anyway. It nearly wiped out all of Phaos’s men.”

  “What did he make?” Scythe asked, fascinated.

  “I haven’t found that out yet. I don’t think they even got their own name. The translations only say ‘sea beast.’ Now, the war between the humans and the sea beasts almost killed all of the living.

  “That was when Nyx stepped in and destroyed all of Lumeon’s beasts. Their souls weren’t even allowed access to Skiachora, either. Lumeon was furious and vowed to create another, stronger race that could supposedly counter death and Nyx herself.

  “Nyx did not take any chances with him. She took the armor she originally crafted for him and sealed it inside a driftwood box. His essence and power were trapped inside. Nyx hid this box, ashamed of what her own son would do. Phaos and Maniodes don’t even know where their brother is.”

  Dagger and Scythe sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the tale. Scythe couldn’t look away from the armor drawn in the book. It was simple and old-fashioned, but it looked durable. The metal of the breastplate was hammered out, and thick leather straps with more metal worked into them draped over the shoulders. There were wide strips of metal and leather that hung like a shirt to cover the god’s thighs. It was simple, but given its history, daunting.

  “And no one knows,” Dagger said, stunned. “No one except Nyx, Maniodes, and Phaos.”

  “People knew once perhaps,” Axe said. “They even supposedly knew what Skiachora was and their fates down here, but I think that was stripped away. This bard had to come to know this information of Lumeon somehow. Lumeon has passed beyond legend and even myth. He’s been forgotten from existence.”

  Dagger leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

  “We could seal Maniodes away like Lumeon. We just need his shield and a box,” Scythe speculated.

  “It won’t be that easy,” Axe said. “He guards that shield constantly. It hangs above his bed as he sleeps.”

  “Why a driftwood box?” Dagger asked, distracted. “Seems like an odd detail.”

  “I’d thought that was rather specific too, but I couldn’t find any indication why,” Axe said.

  “Driftwood comes from the ocean,” Scythe said. “It’s basically any type of wood, but it’s created that way by the waves. Lumeon is associated with the ocean; he created it. Maybe that’s why.”

  “That’s likely, but I want to be absolutely sure before we try to steal the essence of Maniodes himself,” Dagger said.

  “I’ll keep researching the topic,” Axe offered. “Even if I find a type of tree or wood connected to Phaos, which would at least confirm the idea.”

  “That’s good but there’s another problem,” Dagger pointed out. “Nyx would prosecute us if we seal away her son.”

  “Maybe not,” Scythe speculated. “What if we get her on our side?”

  “How, for the love of Skiachora, would we get her to help us banish her son?” Dagger asked cynically.

  She wanted to snap right back, but she held her tongue. Based on the way he was holding himself, Dagger was still in pain.

  “Do you think the goddess of death has ever had a friend?” Scythe asked. She was able to contain most of the sarcasm, but some still bled through. “She was willing to seal away one of her own children. If we show her how incompetent Maniodes is, she might be willing to help us. Even seal him away herself.”

  “But Lumeon was violent. He almost killed humanity. Maniodes is practically his opposite,” Dagger said.

  He had a fair point.
Maniodes was incompetent, but he was hardly maniacal. Another idea came to her.

  “What does Maniodes do on Fridays?” Scythe asked.

  Neither of them bothered to answer.

  “It must be something he’s trying to hide. Nobody knows where he goes. Even Pitch, who helps plan out his days and suggests jobs for us. He’s hiding something. Maybe we could find out what that is and use it against him.”

  “While in the meantime befriending Nyx before we blindside Maniodes.” There was no sarcasm in Dagger’s voice. They finally had a direction.

  “Exactly,” Scythe added.

  Chapter 27

  Scythe locked the door to the estate behind them. They had left Axe to his research some time ago. It took them longer to reach home than usual because of the stairs between the dead trees. Dagger had slowed down. When they left the tree, the moonlight showed his leg to be bleeding again. No doubt the other wounds were as well.

  Now Dagger leaned on the wall beside the door with his eyes closed.

  “Let’s get you to the parlor,” Scythe said, taking his arm. He let her lead him. “You can sleep on the couch. I’d rather you not attempt the stairs like this.”

  He grunted as he lowered himself to the couch but didn’t lie down. He gripped the edge of it, leaning forward.

  “An eventful night.” His voice was rough but steady.

  Scythe sat next to him. “You should lie down. I’ll get the bandages to patch you up again.”

  She went to stand, but Dagger caught her arm.

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to hear before I pass out again,” he said.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

  “It’s been waiting since you dug up my death. You promised to tell me yours.”

  “You want to hear that now?” Her heart started to seize at the thought.

  “It’s a night for discoveries.” He didn’t let go of her arm.

  “I will tell you, but not until you’ve healed more. You can barely walk,” Scythe protested.

  “The promise was after I had rested,” he said. “I’ve rested enough.”

  “Clearly, you haven’t.”

  “Regardless, I would hear that story now. It’s not like it can affect my health.”