Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  “You are out of uniform, Inspector,” Malvaceä said.

  “It’s my day off,” she deadpanned, returning his stare.

  Ansee stepped back from the desk. He half expected them to draw their weapons at any moment.

  “And is this Seeker Rubus’s replacement?” The Inquisitor turned his eyes on Ansee, who flinched a bit at the attention.

  “This is Seeker Carya,” Reva said.

  “Well, Seeker Carya,” Malvaceä gave him a cruel smile. “I hope you can measure up. You have a big spellbook to fill.”

  “What do you want, Senior Inquisitor?” Reva put special emphasis on senior. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are trying to conduct a murder investigation here.”

  “Please, don’t let me stop you. I assure you, the Sucra wants First Magistrate Avecath’s killer found and brought to justice just as much as you do. I am here merely to collect the First Magistrate’s letters, documents, and other writings.”

  “The hells you are,” Reva snapped. “I have the authority to collect all the evidence in this case, and that includes the Magistrate’s papers. They may have information related to his death.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” replied Malvaceä evenly.

  “Maybe not,” Reva admitted. “But they’re evidence and I will collect them as regulations require.” She made a move to pick up some of the papers.

  “Touch those papers, Inspector, and I will arrest you for treason.” Malvaceä’s voice was calm but carried an edge of menace. Everybody in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at the two of them.

  Reva knew Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä well enough to know that it was not an idle threat. He was full of the righteous power that came from being a Green Cloak and would love to exercise that power with Reva. She withdrew her hand and asked, “On whose authority?”

  “Why, King Aeonis’s authority, of course.” Malvaceä gave Reva a sneering smile and held up a rolled document with the King’s seal set in green wax. He didn’t offer the document to Reva to examine, merely taunting her with it before returning the rolled paper to a case at his belt.

  “Now step aside so I can perform the King’s business.”

  “Under protest,” Reva said with gritted teeth. She couldn’t do anything else without risking her assignment to the case. I’m not even supposed to be here today and now I have to deal with the Green Cloak’s “assistance”. She was tempted to grab some of the papers anyway to call Malvaceä’s bluff, but she did want the hassle. I really should be at home right now. It’s my day off after all.

  “Duly noted,” Malvaceä said dryly. He snapped his fingers and two more Green Cloaks stepped into the room, careful to avoid the body. They carried boxes and began filling them with the papers from the Magistrate’s desk. They moved quickly and thoroughly, opening all the drawers and filling the boxes with all the contents of the desk. They even collected quills, inkwells, and paperweights. They were finished in under two minutes.

  They snapped to attention and saluted Malvaceä, saying, “Hail King Aeonis!” before taking the boxes and leaving the room.

  “Thank you, Constable Inspector. I will leave you to your investigation.” Malvaceä gestured to Alchemist Bromide and the quartz crystals. “If you haven’t yet performed the Speaking I would like to witness it. With your approval, of course.” He smiled at Reva.

  Reva thought that if a death viper could smile it would look like that. She wanted to tell him no, and she could have refused, but she knew it was not wise to piss off the Sucra. There was no reason she should refuse, other than the fact that she thought that Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä was an asshole.

  “Of course you can witness the Speaking,” Reva said. She nodded at Thea. “When you are ready.”

  “I don’t know what is going to happen, Inspector,” Thea said with a shrug. “I’ve never attempted the Speaking on a body that is so badly mutilated. His brain, maybe even his soul, was cut in two. We may not get anything.”

  Reva nodded her understanding as Thea set about finishing her preparations. She’d set the large quartz crystals at five points around the body, equidistant from each other. She’d connected the crystals using a mixture of powdered silver, bone, and dried holly leaf spread to form a pentagon around the body. She pulled a clay flask from her belt and unstoppered it, pouring a silvery liquid from the flask into her left hand. As the liquid poured out it became a light grey powder.

  Thea inhaled deeply and then blew the powder over the Magistrate’s body. She then spoke in a high, commanding voice. “First Magistrate Lavalé fey Avecath, son of Lord Awynn fey Avecath, holder of the Order of Arona, bearer of the Onyx Cross, I command you to return and speak true!”

  Ansee watched the Speaking ritual uncomfortably. He personally had reservations about the magic. The spell contained within the crystals called the deceased’s soul from the afterlife back to their body so they could answer questions for the living. Ansee thought that the ritual was a violation of the spirit. He had no practical knowledge of the divination magic that was used to perform the ritual, but he had the feeling that it was a painful and traumatic experience for the spirit, to be pulled against their will from the afterlife back to their material body. Even though the ritual could only be performed for a short time, he had always thought that the entire ritual actually hurt the person’s soul. Ansee felt so strongly about it that he’d had a solicitor draw up a PNS—Perform No Speaking—order to make sure that it was never performed on him.

  As Thea completed the ritual nothing seemed to happen at first. The body lay within the pentagon, no voice calling forth from beyond the grave as usually happened. Then the study was filled with a horrific, keening wail. It started out as a whisper, as if from a long distance, then steadily increased in volume until it was a painful sound that filled the room. The sound pulsed and throbbed and was filled with pain and torment.

  Reva held her hands to her ears. She’d never experienced anything so horrible. She looked around the study and saw that everyone else, including Malvaceä, was doing the same thing.

  The sound seemed to subside and then came a shrill voice filled with terror and pain, “The black blade…the black blade…the black blade….”

  The voice repeated the phrase again and again, a horrific mantra from the afterlife. Thea had performed the Speaking ritual hundreds of times. Occasionally the ritual failed to call the spirit and nothing happened. In most cases the spirit would speak and could respond to questions, although for only a very short time. She’d never experienced what was happening now. After about the twelfth repetition of it she reached out and pulled up one of the crystals, breaking the magic.

  The study fell quiet, everyone looking at each other.

  “Well, that was different,” Reva said. She looked around the study. Ansee and the Alchemists all seemed to be shaken by the experience. She saw Malvaceä chewing on his lower lip, his face a mask. He finally strode out of the room, his footfalls echoing down the hall.

  “That was rude,” said Reva. “Not even a ‘Hail King Aeonis’ in parting.”

  Five

  Ailan strode out of the First Magistrate’s mansion and across to his horse, which was being held by a Sucra Novice. The two Inquisitors who’d carried out the Magistrate’s papers were securing the boxes to a mule.

  “Take those papers back to the Red Keep,” Ailan ordered. “I will join you when I can but I must meet with the Grand Inquisitor first.”

  The three elves saluted as Ailan mounted his horse. He spurred the silver-dapple stallion into a canter and headed down the road. Reaching the Grand March he turned left and headed for the ferry to cross the river.

  He had to wait for the ferry upon reaching the river. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the grisly image of Avecath’s body from his mind. He would never admit it to anybody, but the First Magistrate’s death was disturbing to see, even fo
r Ailan, who’d personally caused many disturbing deaths himself. He’d seen his share of limbs and heads removed from bodies—a battlefield (or even a torture chamber) could be a messy place—but seeing Avecath cut neatly into two halves was a first.

  His initial impression upon seeing the body was that the murderer had been quite strong, and had probably taken several swings in order to be able to split the body. He hadn’t been able to get a closer look at the body with all the damn Constables in the way and Lunaria sticking her nose in places where it didn’t belong, but Ailan could only think of two ways to cut through a body like that: brute strength or powerful magic. The haunting last words that the Magistrate had spoken at the Speaking ritual led Ailan to feel that the latter was the case here. It was that thought that had convinced Ailan he needed to see Grand Inquisitor Agera.

  The ferry docked at the pier and Ailan walked his horse onto the scuffed deck, ignoring the ferry worker and the other passengers. He failed to notice that the other passengers all gave him a wide berth. He was the first one off the ferry on the south bank and spurred his horse again into a canter. Elves and halpbloeden quickly got out of his way as he took Circle Road around Poplar Hill and then headed through South Grove.

  Fifteen minutes later he was riding through the gate of the Grand Inquisitor’s villa. Grand Inquisitor Lahar Agera was the head of the Sucra, though he rarely spent any time in the Red Keep—the Sucra’s offices. Instead he spent his days at his villa, tending to his gardens and overseeing his vineyards, summoning anybody he needed to meet with to come to him.

  Ailan dismounted, tossing the reins to a young human boy who led the horse off to a hitching post. Instead of approaching the front door, Ailan walked around the front of the villa, following a well-tended gravel path around to the left of the home. He entered the garden through an ivy-covered arched gate. The garden was literally a maze of gravel paths, rose bushes, azaleas, and rhododendrons. The paths and plants were laid out to create an intricately confusing maze through the acre-sized garden. Most of the paths led to dead ends which were tastefully provided with wooden benches, statues, or small fountains to occupy the lost person until they were found.

  Ailan knew the path through the maze quite well and quickly worked his way through it, ignoring the fragrant scents and the buzzing of bees dancing around the flowers. He emerged from the maze at a grotto shaded by a wide, moss-covered oak tree. The grotto was an elf-made creation of rocks, ferns, and shrubs that created a small cave sitting in the center of a small pool of water. Stepping stones led from the path to the center of the grotto. The entire grotto and oak tree were ringed by cherry trees and white marble statues of elven gods and heroes from antiquity.

  The Grand Inquisitor stood in the cave-like space of the grotto. He had on tan breeches that came to his knees and dark green leggings. He wore a coat of deep green, studded with brass buttons and gold embroidery along the sleeves. His hair was a light golden-blond with streaks of white running through it, neatly pulled back into a long tail with three silver hair rings. The hair bobbed a bit as he turned his head slightly at the sound of Ailan’s footsteps, but he didn’t turn around.

  He kept Ailan standing at attention for well over two minutes before finally breaking the awkward silence. “You have the letter, Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä?” The Grand Inquisitor remained facing the interior of the grotto, his voice echoing off of the walls.

  Ailan licked his lips. “No, Grand Inquisitor.”

  Agera turned around, fixing Malvaceä with pale green eyes. “Were my instructions not clear?”

  Malvaceä shook his head.

  “Then you had better have a damn good reason for disturbing me at my prayers.”

  “We’ve collected all of the First Magistrate’s papers,” Malvaceä said with confidence. “My elves have taken the documents to the Red Keep. I will find the letter.”

  “If you haven’t found the letter, then why are you here instead of at the Red Keep looking for it?” Agera’s voice was calm but his eyes told Ailan he was treading on a thin branch.

  “First Magistrate Avecath’s death was…most unusual. I knew that you would want to know about it from me, firsthand, as soon as possible.”

  Agera tilted his head, his face revealing nothing. He remained quiet and started walking across the stepping stones. His silence told Malvaceä that he needed to explain further.

  “He was cut in half,” Ailan said.

  This news caused Agera to pause as he stepped onto the gravel. He cocked an eyebrow at Ailan.

  “He was split quite evenly and cleanly from head to groin.” Ailan used his hand to mimic a weapon cutting him in half.

  “Indeed.” Agera walked over to a small table under one of the cherry trees. A clay pitcher of wine and a plate of cheese and sliced apples were laid out. “That is most unusual.”

  Agera poured himself a cup of the wine but didn’t offer any to Malvaceä. “It still doesn’t explain why you are here and not at the Red Keep doing your job.” Agera took a drink of the wine and fixed Ailan with another hard look.

  “The good Constables were kind enough to allow me to witness the Speaking ritual.”

  “That was most generous of them.” Agera sat down and took another sip of the wine. “And what did our friend have to say from the afterlife?”

  “Nothing of use about his killer, unfortunately. It was a very tormented-sounding soul and it only repeated ‘the black blade’ over and over again.”

  Agera gave Ailan a look but didn’t say anything as he grabbed a cube of goat cheese.

  “The First Magistrate’s death suggests that he was killed by a person with great strength,” Ailan paused briefly, “or a person in possession of a very powerfully enchanted weapon.” Ailan looked at his commanding officer’s face for the subtlest of clues—anything to let him know that the Grand Inquisitor agreed with his theory—but Agera just tapped a finger against the side of his pale cheek. After a few moments Ailan said, “There is one weapon—”

  “No.” Agera cut him off. “There are countless magical swords and axes in the world. Even black ones.”

  “But if it is?”

  “It is not. That weapon is secure.”

  “I’m sure of that,” Ailan said, bowing his head to assuage the Grand Inquisitor. “What I mean to say is that the RTC has put Constable Inspector Lunaria in charge of the case. She can be quite…tenacious. She won’t give up until she’s identified the weapon that killed Avecath. Even if it is a different weapon that was involved she may learn information best left hidden. She is more bothersome than a hawk tick and will dig and burrow until she finds her answers.”

  “That may be,” the Grand Inquisitor said. He’d raised his eyebrows slightly at the Inspector’s name. “But it is no concern of ours.”

  “Of course.” Ailan flushed a bit at the rebuff. Bringing the Grand Inquisitor information that he found useful had been a boon to Ailan’s career to this point, but he’d also seen plenty of elves whose careers had abruptly ended by bothering Agera with what he considered to be trivialities. Is this one of those times?

  Agera picked up his wine cup, swirling the sweet yellow liquid in it. “I need the letter that Lavalé was writing for us. It can do more damage to our plans than any mad-elf with a bloody enchanted sword.”

  He pointed a finger at Malvaceä. “Find me the letter. I expect you to bring it to me tonight.”

  Ailan saluted, knowing he’d been dismissed. He turned on his heels and started out of the grotto.

  “And Senior Inquisitor.”

  Ailan stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

  “Keep yourself apprised of the Constabulary’s investigation. If they start prying up bark where they shouldn’t be, we may need to intervene.”

  Six

  Reva and Ansee walked up the steps at New Port and into the Acer Division stable. They headed over to Re
va’s table and she took a seat on her stool with an exhausted sigh. It had been a long morning at the Magistrate’s mansion collecting evidence and conducting interviews. It was well after lunch now, and it seemed to Ansee that everybody at the scene had been on edge after the disconcerting Speaking ritual and their encounter with the Sucra. It appeared to Ansee that Inspector Lunaria had spent half her time scrutinizing every little thing he did, and none of it met her approval.

  He was glad to see that the tea he’d spilled earlier had been cleaned up, although most of the documents on the desk were curled along the edges from their earlier soaking. He set his pack on the floor and stretched his back before casually asking, “What do we do now?”

  The look of irritation and annoyance that filled Reva’s face made him immediately regret the question. Great, another mark against me in whatever ledger the Constable Inspector is keeping that compares me to her previous partner.

  Inspector Lunaria began ticking off instructions on her fingers, unable to hide the exasperation in her voice.

  “First, get down to records. I want you to imprint the auras from the crime scene as soon as possible.”

  Ansee nodded; I knew that. The discovery that magical auras could be stored had only recently been made by a wizard at Auros Academy. It was a long-known fact that all magic creates an aura. To the untrained observer, or even a spellcaster without the proper tools, the auras just looked like colors of the rainbow. The Academy wizard had been experimenting by passing different crystals in front of auras and had discovered that when an aura was viewed through a quartz prism he saw not the expected blur of color but sharp bands of light, lines, and subtle shades of color. Further research showed that each spell had a unique spectrum and that the same spell cast by two different wizards had slight changes in the spectrum that could link the spell back to the wizard who cast it.