Now Cedres lived in a tiny flat above a bakery. He shared the space with other halpbloeden. It was cramped and smelly, and the roof leaked. He hated his home. He hated his job and the pittance of a wage he earned. He hated it all but tolerated everything, did what he needed to do, because he needed to prove to Rhea that he was still the elf she’d married.
Cedres was sure, deep in his heart, that if he could prove he was an elf on the outside and to the world, King Aeonis would take notice and make a special dispensation for him, making him an elf again. And when he was again an elf, then Rhea would take him back and together they could reclaim their children from the orphanage.
The litter was now making its way along the western edge of Nuphar Wood. The sun was getting lower in the sky, though it would not set for another three hours or so. Tenyl’s high latitude meant that during High Summer the sun didn’t set until after the twenty-first hour of the day. There were some elves out for evening walks, though the air was still heavy with the day’s heat.
They maneuvered the litter through Lythra Square with its green marble obelisk and massive statues of elven cavalry riding their war hawks. The monument honored the elves who’d fought and died at the Battle of Lythra nearly 280 years ago. As they made their way past the obelisk at the center of the square, the litter lurched violently and Cedres became aware of many things happening all at once.
There was a dull THUD from the front of the litter, followed by two high-pitched yells of fright, one of which was cut off in mid-scream. The litter pitched forward, no longer supported by the front poles. From within the litter came a startled cry of exclamation from Lady Ochroma.
“Be careful, you damn halpbloed oafs, or I’ll see that—”
She couldn’t complete the sentence because she started to yell with fright as the litter hit the ground. They hadn’t been going much faster than a walking pace, but the litter was unbalanced and toppled over onto its right side.
Kord, the burly human in front of Cedres, was caught by surprise and his yoke twisted and tore across his neck and head, leaving a long scratch and a torn earlobe.
Cedres was quicker and managed to slip from his yoke as he fell to the left onto the hard cobblestones. He looked up and saw that the area surrounding the fallen litter was filled with a thick smoke or fog. He couldn’t see past the dense cloud and he realized that if he couldn’t see out nobody could see in. His first thought was that somebody was finally trying to kidnap Lady Ochroma—her fears suddenly and violently coming true.
He looked to the front of the litter. His friend Aanonpfera lay in a pool of blood. It took Cedres a moment to realize that Aanonpfera’s legs had been cut off at the knees. Hanello, the second porter, had tripped over Aanonpfera’s body and fallen. He lay unmoving.
At the rear of the litter, Kord knelt, his left hand pressed against his ear, blood seeping between his fingers. He was staring up, mouth open in shock and fright at a figure standing atop the left side of the fallen litter.
It was an elf, maybe seventeen or eighteen hands tall. He wore dark-colored breeches, dark boots, and some kind of patterned leather armor. His hair was a light brown, or maybe a gold color, and it flowed loosely about his shoulders. In his right hand was a long, black blade that glowed with a soft, red light, like embers from a dying forge. The pommel was shiny, with a red and black flash of color, as the elf swung the blade, cutting off pieces of the litter.
A high-pitched cry of “No! No! Stay back! I have nothing to hide!” came from Lady Ochroma.
Cedres saw the sword rise above the attacker’s head. Without thought he leapt up and ran at the litter, hitting it hard with his left shoulder where the carrying poles were braced under the seat. There was a loud CRACK! and pain shot through his left side as his collarbone broke from the impact, but the move had the desired effect. The litter was pushed forward several hands and caught the attacker off balance. He fell backwards, landing with a clatter on the cobblestones.
Cedres turned around, his left arm hanging limp and useless. The attacker seemed to undulate and writhe, kicking out with legs and arms before jumping to stand up.
“You should know your place, halpbloed,” the attacker said. His voice was coated with anger and irritation.
Cedres saw that the attacker wore a mask, which covered his whole face. It was black with green around the eyes, had a green stripe painted down the chin and around the mouth, and two red painted fangs.
“I am an elf!” Cedres yelled, though he didn’t know why. By law he was halpbloed, no matter his personal thoughts and desires. But something deep inside him told him that this was his moment. Protecting his passenger, a defenseless elf and part of the Royal circle, would be what he needed to be recognized by King Aeonis. Such a selfless and courageous act reflected the honor of the elven warrior, like those who were honored by the obelisk rising behind Cedres. Surely the King would grant him his wish after he learned of Cedres’s honor and bravery, and then Cedres would have Rhea and his children back.
“I will defend my passenger from brigands like you! You will not harm her!” Cedres grabbed at part of the carrying pole he’d damaged when he hit the litter, pulling a stout length away from it. He held the pole in his good hand like a sword and stood facing the attacker.
Cedres jumped forward, hoping to catch the masked attacker flat-footed, fainting with the club toward the left, then bringing it around with a powerful swing of his strong right arm. The attacker’s blade almost casually flipped up to parry the swing. As the stout oak pole met the sword, the blade cut through it as if it was made from soft cheese. The wood clattered to the stones as the blade continued in an arc and was thrust forward violently into Cedres.
Cedres almost didn’t feel the blade as it pierced his stomach. He looked down with surprise to see the blade sticking in him almost to the hilt, the attacker gripping it with one hand.
“You waste your pitiful life by foolishly protecting these liars,” the attacker said, his voice hissing from behind the mask. With a casual flick of the wrist, the blade twisted and cut through the right side of Cedres’s body. He collapsed to the ground, landing on his right side, his left arm hanging limp. He thought of Rhea and his children, wishing that he could see them one last time before the blackness enveloped him.
The attacker stepped over the fallen halpbloed and moved around the back of the litter. He almost casually stuck the tip of the blade into the face of Kord, who’d been cowering by the fallen litter. The blade neatly split Kord’s face and he moved no more.
Lady Ochroma was struggling to free herself from the curtains and broken panels of the litter, when she saw the masked attacker reappear from around the litter. Panic gripped her chest and she tried to run, but her feet were still tangled in the gaudy yellow curtains and she tripped, her knees falling hard onto the cobblestones.
She rolled over to face him. He wore a Basvu mask, the mask of the Knehtlaar Quercus, the Oak Knights, that was worn during initiation of new members into Pfeta fey Orung—the Elves of Purity. But the mask was old, a design she’d never seen before. That frightened her. But he also carried the Black Blade, the one that was supposed to be hidden away and was only to be carried by those who were worthy, and he was certainly not one of them. That made her angry, and her anger won out over her fear.
“You have no right to hold that weapon,” she said, though her voice trembled some.
“I have every right,” he replied, voice muffled behind the mask. “What better tool than your own blade to reveal your horrible truth for the world to see?” He pointed the tip of the weapon at a small circular enamel pin of a green oak tree on a field of blue, with fifteen stars encircling the tree. “You’ve lived a life of lies and brought death to countless pure elves.” He raised the blade and Tala knew there was nothing she could do.
“Your lies, and your life, end now.”
With a swing the blade fell, cleavi
ng into her skull. It split her head in two and traveled down, cutting through flesh, bone, and stone before stopping partway through her chest, unable to cut any further through the cobblestones beneath the body.
The killer pulled the blade free and quickly wiped it on the torn curtains from the litter. He took a small ceramic vial from a pouch on his belt, lifted the mask and drank the magical potion. His body, clothes, and possessions quickly dissolved into a fine mist that floated off from the scene, indistinguishable from the fading fog that had surrounded the litter.
As the fog lifted, other people in the square could now clearly see the scene of carnage beneath the war memorial. The first scream quickly followed.
Eight
Reva walked across King’s Bridge and into River Grove. She’d spent over two hours at New Port getting things for the case together and writing up her interview notes. She’d then left the stable after having worked most of a day that was supposed to be her day off. How typical.
She’d managed to post the letter to her brother, Gale. His name was actually Ghallen but growing up he’d always been such a whirlwind of energy and destruction that Reva had started using the nickname, especially when he’d messed up her toys or clothes. Gale was a Baccata, a Yew Sergeant, or more simply called a Yew, serving in one of the elite Ranger Corps of the Royal Army. He was based in Tolan, near the border with the dwarves and other races, but his troop ranged far and wide over the Smoke Highlands and the Gap of Tolan. Reva and Gale were close and she made it a point of writing to him every week, even though his return letters were always a bit more sporadic.
In addition to sending the letter she’d managed to pick up two pots of glaze for Mother, arranged for a delivery of charcoal for Mother’s kiln, bought some soap, and picked up some more writing supplies. In addition, she’d also stopped at her favorite bakery and green grocer to pick up some items for dinner.
Dinner was important. Her father had always insisted on eating the evening meal together as a family. It was important to maintain a sense of normalcy in their lives, he said, especially since his job as a Constable often took him away at odd hours. The family meal let them discuss the day’s events and stay abreast of what was going on in each other’s lives. The meals helped to ground the family and keep them together, not always something that happened with other Constables’ families.
Even though her father had died just over two years ago—killed on duty while responding to a robbery—Reva and her mother kept up the tradition. Gale did too, when he was in town, but otherwise it was just the two of them. Tonight, though, Reva had picked up some extra food since she’d invited Seeker Carya over for dinner.
Reva turned left off the bridge and headed up Embankment Road. The road ran along the river bank, the placid waters of the River Tenz flowing gently on Reva’s left. On the right side of the road were all manner of shops and homes. She passed plenty of people she knew, friends and neighbors she’d grown up with, nodding and greeting them. She passed Lewellan’s bookstore and the Ballwhythe’s fish market. Master Southii was sweeping the front of his tailor shop and the Nueance brothers were outside their haberdashery, bringing in their wares for the evening. She greeted each of them with a wave and a “Reis inellen”, wishing them a good evening.
The home Reva and her mother shared was similar to most on the street. The homes and shops had been built when River Grove was a new district and neoclassical buildings were in style. Six to eight trees were planted in a rectangular pattern, their growth enhanced and accelerated through magic to create the basic framework of the buildings. The trees grew tall and straight before branches grew to form crossbeams and rafters. Cut wood and plaster was inserted between the trees and limbs to create the walls, floors, and roof. The result was vaguely similar but entirely different looking homes with lots of shade and greenery. The trees had continued to grow, so over the years changes and repairs had to be made to keep the buildings from being damaged.
Reva loved the Grove and wouldn’t live anywhere else in the city. Her mother’s house was about halfway down the road and had a fine view of the river. The exterior had been painted a brilliant yellow with red trim. A painted sign showing several clay pots and “Lunaria Ceramics” in flowing script hung over the door.
Reva entered, savoring the familiar earthy aroma of clay that always filled the shop. Mother was at the counter, tidying up her displays. Aeollas Lunaria was a few hands shorter than Reva and her light brown hair—beginning to grey in places—was pulled up in a loose pile and held in place with a wooden pottery knife. Walking over, Reva placed the two pots of glaze down on the counter. Aeollas set down a teapot and looked at the pots. Each had a handwritten label and a spot of color dabbed on the lid to identify it. One was a brilliant emerald green, the other a vibrant saffron yellow.
“Oh, honey,” Aeollas beamed a smile at Reva. “These are perfect. Thank you for getting them.”
“My pleasure, Mother.”
As soon as Reva spoke, a loud squawk emanated from the upstairs balcony, followed by a call of “Reva is sexy!” as Gabii realized that Reva was home. Reva winced at the reminder that she hadn’t thought of anything new to teach Gabii to say instead.
“How was she today?” Reva asked.
Aeollas laughed. “Oh, she was good today. She only called out to about half of my customers.”
Reva placed a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Don’t be,” she patted Reva on the arm. “Gabii called out when Mister Peulldove came in and he said he totally agrees with Gabii about you.”
“Mom!” Reva exclaimed. “Mister Peulldove is like 230 years old! I could be his grandchild.”
Aeollas waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t get your branches in a twist. He’s a nice person and obviously has a great sense of taste.”
Reva shook her head and shuddered a bit. She picked up her other bag and headed for the stairs. “I got a new partner today. I’ve invited him over for dinner.”
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother said as she picked up the glaze. “Though I will dearly miss Cas. She said she would write when she got settled in and let me know how her mother is doing. Make sure you tidy up, Reva, if we’re going to have company.”
“I know, Mother. I’m not a child anymore.” Reva started up the stairs.
“Don’t sass me, dear. I’m still your mother, so that makes you a child to me.”
Luckily Reva was already halfway up the stairs, so her mother didn’t see Reva flapping her hand open and closed and saying “wa, wa, wa…”
“What did you say, Reva?” Aeollas called up to her.
“I said ‘yes, Mother.’”
Upstairs Reva walked over and said hello to Gabii, who was pacing back and forth on her perch. “Reva is sexy!” she squawked in Aavril’s voice. “Reva is sexy!”
“I know I am,” Reva sighed, carrying the cloth bag with the groceries into the kitchen. “But do you have to tell the whole world?”
“Reva is sexy!”
Reva shook her head and tried to ignore Gabii. Pulling a bag from the cabinet she walked back to the perch, thrusting a handful of shelled nuts into a bowl. “Here,” she said. “This should keep you quiet for a while.”
Gabii gave a loud whistle and picked up a curved nut, working it open in her beak.
Reva went back to the kitchen and put away the food. She then spent the next hour cleaning the place and getting the meal prepared. Reva wasn’t the best cook in Tenyl, and she and Mother usually ate simple fare. Gale was the cook in the family but Reva liked to think that some of his skill had rubbed off on her.
She didn’t know Seeker Carya well enough to know what kind of food he liked. Better to stay away from some of the spicier foods that she and mother ate. Aavril had collected a lot of exotic spices on his travels and Reva was sure that she had the best stocked spice cabinet in
the Grove, if not the entire city. But some of the exotic curries, peppers, and other spices were not to everybody’s taste.
She had decided on something traditional and so was baking three large portabella mushrooms stuffed with goat cheese, spinach, and garlic. She also made a salad of walnuts and cherries mixed with a few mustard and dandelion greens. After making the salad, Reva sliced a loaf of brown bread and mixed olive oil, pepper, basil, and oregano to dip the bread in. Satisfied that dinner was ready, she looked up and saw that the sun was a couple of hours from setting. She hoped that Seeker Carya would be on time.
Mother came upstairs a few minutes later and looked around approvingly. “Dinner smells good.” She walked to the water basin and washed her hands. “I didn’t ask earlier, but how did you know you had a new partner? I thought you had the day off.”
“Aescel called me in to investigate a murder. I met Seeker Carya this morning at New Port.”
“So they called you on your day off?” Aeollas said while drying her hands. “Doesn’t your First Constable have any other inspectors? You should have just refused to go in.”
“Mother, I couldn’t do that. Besides, when did Dad ever refuse to go into work when he was called?”
“Never,” Aeollas agreed, a bit angrily. “And it was that blind dedication that got him killed.”
Reva heard the bitter accusation in her voice. It was a touchy subject between them and she didn’t want to get into an argument about duty to the force versus duty to family right before company was to arrive.
“Seeker Carya seems good,” Reva said, trying to steer the conversation. She also didn’t want to voice her own concerns as she knew that would get her mother started comparing him to Cas. She knew that it was going to happen anyway, but she didn’t want to instigate it.
“I’m sure he is,” Aeollas said condescendingly, “but nobody was as good as Cas.”
Wrath of the Fury Blade Page 6