Scythe stepped inside and left the door open. The woman didn’t stir. Her back was to the door, so Scythe creeped around the bed to see the woman’s face.
It was her. Her eyes were closed, and a peaceful smile stayed on her lips as she slept. The same pale hair mixed with a darker shade of lavender spread on the pillow around her.
Scythe felt like a vulture waiting for its moment, and loved it.
Chapter 40
Scythe returned back to the rocky hill where Chip waited. The Night Mares dug their hooves into the earth, not tethered to anything. She wondered briefly if that was part of their training or nature.
Chip stood from a rock and approached eagerly as she crested the hill.
“It’s her house, all right,” she told him.
Chip punched the air.
“Has Dagger come back yet?” she asked.
Chip’s arm fell to his side as he shook his head.
Scythe looked out over the hills. The small grove of trees was visible from here. Dagger had followed Maniodes in that direction, but there was no way of knowing if their path had changed.
Chip came to her side and tilted his head at her in a questioning manner.
“We saw Maniodes. Dagger followed him,” she explained.
Chip looked over the hills with her.
The moon moved the length of half an hour.
The cold bite of steel touched her throat. Scythe instantly went for her weapon on her back, but a hand stopped her. She counted her breath beneath the blade. Rage filled her veins.
“I found him.” The voice in her ear was husky.
“What are you doing, Dagger?” she demanded.
“Just a bit of fun.” He slid the knife back into his belt as she turned to glare at him. “I came up the side, and you were focused on the valley.”
“I should skin you alive. You’d probably survive that.”
“Probably would.” His eyebrows shot up. “That wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“It would be for me. Did you really think that little blade would go over well on an espionage run when we’re stalking a fucking god?”
He grew more serious, seeing her anger.
“I was trying to lighten the mood,” he explained. “Especially after our talk by the well.”
That blew the wind out of her sails. “Just read the mood next time. I was worried you wouldn’t come back. Anyway, you said it was him?”
“Aye,” he said, relaxing again. “There’s a dead maple tree in that grove. He went back to Skiachora. It was strange seeing him so short.”
“Part of his disguise as Tyndareus, I bet. Walking around at eight feet would draw attention, even at night,” Scythe said.
Dagger nodded. “And the woman?”
“It was her,” she confirmed.
“Wonderful. You know, we could kidnap her now.”
“I thought the same, but I think we should leave her be for now. We can use the tree to get back quickly enough, but let’s use the Mares again,” Scythe said.
“Right. I’d feel better with a proper plan of attack before we take her. We should talk to Axe too; he might have an idea,” Dagger stated.
Dagger and Scythe mounted the Night Mares and rode back home with Chip beside them.
A chasm was waiting for them back at the estate. The path just under the main entrance had cracked open, revealing downward stairs just like back in Chalcis. The foreboding dread poured from it like a thick fog waiting for them. The air was squeezed from Dagger’s lungs when he saw it.
Gravel crunched under his boots as he dismounted the Night Mare. Some stones were kicked down the chasm as he approached it with Scythe.
“Dagger, he knows.” It sounded like she couldn’t breathe properly either.
“We don’t know that for sure,” he said, not quite believing his own words.
“He didn’t know you were following him, right?” Scythe pleaded.
“No, he didn’t. At least he didn’t react. I even did what you would do and took my boots off. I didn’t make a sound.”
Dagger scrubbed his hair, trying to remember every detail of Maniodes in the grove. He had walked headlong for the rough center of the grove without pausing or even turning his head. There had been no indication that Maniodes felt anything was amiss. Dagger had even left an extra knife buried into a tree trunk, so they would recognize the place later.
Maybe that had been the indication. What if he let Dagger follow him?
“Dagger?” Scythe’s near-panicked voice broke him out of the memory.
“I don’t know now,” he shrugged. “There was no hint of him knowing I was there.”
“Okay.” Scythe took a breath. “Chip, can you take the Mares back through the tree?”
Chip nodded, already holding their reins.
“Good.” She turned back to Dagger. “We say nothing until he talks first. Just play dumb.”
Dagger forced a breath too, hoping he looked calm enough.
“Okay, pinch my hand if I start acting nervous,” he said.
“You do the same for me,” Scythe agreed.
Dagger held his hand out, and Scythe took it. They descended into Skiachora together as the ground closed above them.
The throne room was full of Incruentus Ferrum and sentries. There were only about thirty in their order, and they were the last to arrive. Everyone had their weapons on hand except for Axe and Maime.
Cross stood among the crowd, looking worried and confused. She twirled a bolt nervously while the crossbow hung on her back. Pitch was there, with his pitchfork, but not in his usual place on the dais. He clutched his weapon like a staff, on the main floor with everyone else.
Maniodes sat on his throne, at his regular eight-foot height. He leaned forward, elbow to knee, not happy about something. His shield leaned against the throne next to him.
Everyone watched Dagger and Scythe enter and stand by Pitch.
“Where have you been?” Maniodes demanded.
“Riding horses in the forest, my lord,” Scythe replied.
“I’m sorry to disturb your fun then,” Maniodes said sarcastically. “Pitch!”
The boy jumped. He looked terrified.
Dagger squeezed his shoulder, hoping it was reassuring.
Pitch stepped in front of the throne and faced the god.
“What is the one thing in my chamber I ordered you not to disturb?” he asked Pitch.
“The thin box on your nightstand, my lord.” His little hands clutched the pitchfork, but his voice was steady. He was probably used to seeing Maniodes in these moods.
“Do you know why?”
Pitch stammered a reply. “I t-thought there were important documents inside.”
Dagger’s hand gripped tighter in Scythe’s.
Maniodes nodded, but it didn’t erase the fury. “A good assumption. Did you see any documents inside?”
Pitch blanched. “No, Sire. It’s always locked.”
“There were scratches on the lock, Pitch. Why?”
Dagger heard Scythe’s quick inhale. He squeezed her hand tighter, trying to calm them both.
“It fell over,” Pitch said without missing a beat. “I was putting the plate of cheeses you like on the nightstand there and knocked it off by accident.”
Maniodes examined his hands, looking morose.
“I just found this in my bootstrap.” He held up Chip’s finger bone. “Which sentry does it belong to?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” Pitch claimed. For a child, he was a good liar.
“You are the only one who goes near my boots.” Maniodes’s voice was murderous. “Why was it there?”
“I don’t know,” Pitch insisted. “I didn’t put it there.”
Maniodes sighed, twirling the tiny bone.
“I can’t take chances with that box. I’m sorry, Pitch.” Maniodes raised a hand without looking at him.
The boy was only able to let out one frightened plea before the color drained from his body.
His grey form stood there, frozen, as a green glow sprouted from his chest. He was still solid for a moment but once the green light appeared, he became a transparent husk like the normal dead. The pitchfork clattered to the floor through him.
“No!” Dagger screamed.
Scythe’s hand covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
The green light of Pitch’s soul floated up to Maniodes’s hand. The god held it for a moment, watching it pulse as it hovered over his palm. He closed his hand around it, and Pitch winked out of existence. Maniodes picked up his shield then. He slipped his arm through the straps, securing it in place.
Dagger wanted to scream again, but it stuck in his throat.
Maniodes left the dais and approached Pitch’s small grey husk. With his shield, Maniodes waved it through the boy like a farmer cutting wheat. The grey image of Pitch dispersed from the impact and dissolved away.
Chapter 41
“You fucking bastard!”
Maniodes rounded on Dagger. He had been dejected carrying out the sentence before, but now he looked furious.
Dagger stepped forward. Scythe tried to hold him back, but he shook her off.
“He made a mistake, and you kill him for it? You didn’t even let him defend himself!”
Maniodes was about to reply but couldn’t.
“He was just a boy,” Cross cried.
“Your own steward,” Axe added. “He admired you!”
“That was rather extreme,” Maime put in.
Most of the other Incruentus Ferrum spoke up, all in favor of Pitch. Maniodes watched them all, taken aback by their fury.
“You force Dagger and me to marry for burning a village, but you murder Pitch for dropping a fucking box?” Scythe shouted.
Maniodes’s eyes darted over all of the Ferrum, settling on Dagger and Scythe again.
“It does not do to question your betters,” he seethed trying to contain himself.
“You are no better,” Dagger replied.
“He was a child,” Cross said again.
Others began to protest.
“Enough!” Maniodes demanded. “The next one of you to speak ends the same as Pitch.”
Everyone stayed quiet then. Dagger’s fists shook at his sides. His weapon was in hand now.
Cross stifled a sob.
Silence hung over them all like a patient noose.
“Out, all of you,” Maniodes demanded.
Dagger heard the others’ footsteps receding, but he couldn’t move. Pitch had trusted him. He hadn’t heard her approach, but Scythe appeared by his side, weapon at full length. Her frame shook with anger that paralleled his. Pitch had trusted them and ended up dead. The other Incruentus Ferrum stopped to watch.
“Problem, Dagger?” Maniodes challenged. “Scythe?”
The god towered over them, shield still strapped to his arm.
“You murdered him,” Scythe said. Her voice was soulless.
“I have that right,” Maniodes said. “It was to set an example.”
“Of what?” Dagger barked.
“Of those who cross me in my personal life,” he growled back. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I am your god.”
“You are not my god.” The words poured from him like pus from an infected wound. “You are not my master, because we are not dogs you can beat!”
He savored his dagger’s weight. Scythe held her weapon at the ready.
“You dare—” Maniodes growled.
“We dare,” Scythe interrupted. “I was tired of your dictations a century ago.”
“I’ll relieve you of them then. I was tired of you undermining me anyway.”
Maniodes raised his hand toward Scythe. The scarlet started to drain from her hair, and her skin dulled. The fury in her eyes deepened as she resisted.
Dagger’s control broke then. He threw his first knife. The blade stuck in Maniodes’s palm, forcing him to lose concentration. Scythe gasped as life returned to her.
Thick, red blood welled past the blade in Maniodes’s hand. Dagger was stunned it was a normal color.
Maniodes gripped his wrist and roared at them with a mix of pain and rage.
Scythe struck then, screaming in her crimson fury. She swung perfectly, avoiding the shield, and sliced through Maniodes’s tunic and stomach.
Maniodes yelled again, but there were words this time.
“Dogs would have been easier to control!”
He raised his other hand, intending to kill them again. Dagger picked another knife, but his hand went numb. The blade clattered to the floor through grey dead fingers. It had gotten hard to breathe. He heard screams around him, but they were distant, like he was drowning, as the borrowed life drained out of him
Dagger forced his gaze from his graying hand back to Maniodes. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t fight, but he wanted the god to see his fury.
A bolt sprouted from Maniodes’s chest. It was enough to distract him, though he didn’t even stagger.
Glorious air rushed back into Dagger’s lungs and feeling returned to his hands. He picked up his choice dagger from where it fell, intending to charge rather then throw.
Scythe stood beside him with a maniacal grin.
Before Maniodes could pull the bolt from his chest, a skeleton bounded in front of him. Dagger noticed the chip in its jaw as it raised a spear to ward off Maniodes.
“Chip, No!” Dagger called.
Other skeletons joined Chip. Maniodes was too stunned at the mutiny to retaliate yet.
Chip chanced a look back and waved for them to run.
“No!” Dagger screamed again.
Maniodes reacted then. He didn’t give warning as he knocked half of the sentries aside with his shield regardless of their weapons. Chip was among those scattered.
Chip’s ribcage broke apart and the spear flew with the dislocated arm. Before his skull could hit the ground, Maniodes snatched it and crushed it into a powder.
Another bolt was shot and struck him. A throwing star imbedded into his shoulder shortly after.
“Traitors!” he screamed.
Cross ran to Dagger’s other side, readying another bolt. The grief in her eyes was powerful. He wondered if she had known Pitch well, or if she associated him with her own son.
Scythe charged, weaving through the remaining skeletons. Dagger followed close behind.
With her weapon at full glory, Scythe swung as Maniodes shoved aside another skeleton. She aimed for his arm, probably intending to sheer it off, but Maniodes saw her. He moved in time to catch the blade of her scythe with his shield. The clang of metal pounded in his ears, raising his blood for war. More bolts, arrows, and throwing stars flew to the god. Most of them connected.
Dagger was useless in controlling his rage. He knew he should stay back and attack with a throwing knife. He didn’t care. Using the distraction Scythe provided by attacking head-on, Dagger struck from the side.
Aiming low and precise, Dagger cut through Maniodes’s boot and the soft tendon of his heel. Before Maniodes could do more than scream, Dagger buried the blade into the knee of the other leg.
The god fell to the side but blocked another blow from Scythe.
Axe ran into view with his weapon. Hammer was beside him, brandishing his hulking war hammer. Now that the god was down, they charged.
Scythe’s cackle filled the air. Dagger couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up from his throat either. They wouldn’t have to seal Maniodes away or threaten his woman. He could bleed.
Dagger shifted the grip on his weapon while Hammer pinned Maniodes’s shield. Axe stood close by, though he looked very uncomfortable.
Scythe swung her weapon around and brought the blade to rest at Maniodes’s throat.
He bled from several wounds, but his eyes didn’t hold any defeat.
Dagger hoped he could pluck them out.
“Enough!” Maniodes cried.
Dagger was about to scoff. As if they would just stop at his command now. A power
ful blast wrenched the air from his lungs. His feet left the floor as he flew back when the force of heat and strength crashed into him.
Ceiling became floor, then wall, then back again. The floor rushed up and didn’t catch him gently. When he finally regained his senses, he was on the ground halfway to the main doors.
Maniodes knelt in the center of the carnage. Broken bones and white powder lay closest to the blast while other sentries were scattered in several limbs across the throne room. Most of the Incruentus Ferrum were scattered through the hall too. Axe must have hit the far wall because he lay unconscious.
Maniodes held Hammer by the throat. The knife Dagger had thrown into it was gone.
Dagger watched as Hammer’s life and color drained away. It was a much faster process, apparently, if Maniodes held the victim. Once Hammer was completely transparent, Maniodes closed his fist through the Ferrum’s neck. He faded from existence as Pitch had. The green soul didn’t even have time to leave his body.
Lace sprinted past Dagger towards the door. Others followed her. Maniodes regained his feet despite the wounds and raised a hand in summoning. Cross skidded to a halt as if caught by a rope and was wrenched backward into his hand. He repeated the process.
“Scythe!” Dagger called, heart pounding, waiting to feel the same pull that got Cross.
“Here.”
Following her voice, he spotted her several yards away. She regained her feet quickly. Her weapon was still extended; she had been lucky not to skewer herself on it. Only then did he notice his own hand was empty. Looking around frantically he spotted his dagger stuck in the abandoned ribcage of a sentry. He snatched it up and regained his feet too.
Another Ferrum flew past into Maniodes’s hand. A thin man with bronze skin and a large nose. Dagger wondered what his weapon of choice and name had been as he died.
“We have to go,” Scythe ran closer to Dagger as he watched in horror while the god picked them off, one by one. She gripped his arm when he didn’t reply. “Dagger!”
“But Pitch,” he protested, shaking her off. “Chip and Axe.”
“We can avenge them later. We have to get out now,” Scythe shouted. “Come on, follow me.”
Dagger and Scythe Page 27