Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane

by Rob May

  Ben was staring at the symbol open-mouthed. ‘Do you recognise this?’ I asked him. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It means,’ he said, ‘that my ancestors weren’t the only ones who knew about this tunnel. That’s the mark of Feron Firehand!’

  At that moment, a strange guttural growl echoed down from somewhere down the passage we had just come down.

  ‘Popular place, this secret tunnel of yours,’ I murmured.

  END OF PART TWO

  PART THREE

  THE TRAP

  III.i

  Triumph

  Kal woke up tangled in red silk sheets. It wasn’t often that she started her day in an unfamiliar room, but even when she did, the first thing she did was roll off the bed, balance face-down on her toes and the palms of her hands, and—keeping her back as straight as a board—slowly lower her nose to the floor.

  After ten repetitions, she heard the door open. Someone padded barefoot across the polished floorboards. Kal tried not to smile as a small cup of coffee was placed on the floor directly under her nose.

  ‘Thanks, Zeb,’ she said.

  ‘Come up to the roof for some lunch when you’re done,’ Zeb Zing said. ‘It’s the best place in the city to watch the procession. We may as well enjoy the view while I still own this house.’

  Zeb left, and Kal managed to squeeze out twenty more push-ups before her arms dissolved beneath her. She picked up the tiny cup and knocked it back in one gulp. Zeb made her coffee thick and strong using some devilishly complicated apparatus that Kal didn’t fully understand. If luxury had a taste, though, then this was it. Everything in Zeb’s smart townhouse was exquisite.

  Kal found a beautiful hand-printed dressing gown hanging on a hook on the back of the door. It fell to mid-thigh, and with a belt it could pass as a summer dress, so she improvised by borrowing a chain that held a velvet curtain in place. Kal had snapped the heels off her party shoes, so now she was more or less in a fit state to make it home across the city. She needed to change into some practical clothes and get her weapons, for today she was hoping to catch a killer.

  But not on an empty stomach.

  Zeb’s roof garden had one of the best views of any building in Amaranthium. Built high up on Arcus Hill, it overlooked the river and the urban sprawl over on the other side. Kal could just about make out the Field of Bones beyond the open East Gate. An army was massing its ranks outside the city. After a decade away at war, General Cassava was returning from the edge of the Wild.

  Zeb was lounging in a deckchair, in the shade of palm trees that sprouted from large terracotta pots. She was riffling through a sheaf of documents while eating fruit from a bowl set beside her. She looked up as Kal approached. ‘Ben Godsword sent me a pile of paperwork to go through before my trial,’ she told Kal. ‘Felix Firehand didn’t waste any time in filing a suit against me on behalf of all my patrons who lost money the other night. He wants to take both the Pit and the house as recompense.’

  Zeb sighed. ‘It’s not that I’m ungrateful that Ben’s taking my case, but Kal—he wants details about all my financial affairs: insurance and taxes, debts and assets. I can’t go into all that; it’s a tangled mess for a start … and not entirely legal. I’ll just get into even more trouble.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Kal said, taking a banana from the bowl. ‘As soon as I catch this killer, then you’re off the hook. Failing that, I’ll go after the King of Thieves himself and bring him to account. He said he had given all our money away, but I’ll make him go and steal it back off someone else if I have to.’

  Zeb smiled at Kal’s confidence. ‘I know you will, Kal. After all, it takes a killer thief to catch both a killer and a thief.’ She looked Kal’s makeshift attire up and down. ‘I can find you some proper clothes, you know.’

  ‘No time,’ Kal said, tossing the banana skin and grabbing a peach. ‘I need to run home and grab some gear, then I’m going to head over to Raelo Redrake’s house and wait for him to return from the ceremony. What with his previous involvement with the Dragonites, that man is prime suspect number one at the moment.’

  ‘What number am I?’ Zeb asked bluntly.

  ‘Forty-two,’ Kal answered with a grin. ‘Don’t worry—I’ll get round to you eventually!’

  She glanced about the nearby houses and mansions. A lot of people were up on the roofs, and more were lining balconies and hanging out of windows. They were mainly household staff and guards; the wealthy senators and merchants would all be gathering outside the Basilica, taking their seats in the podium that would afford them the best view of the climax of Cassava’s triumph.

  ‘Thank you for helping me, Kal,’ Zeb said. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’

  Kal waved the thanks away. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘You’ve helped me more than I can possibly repay you. And I’ve helped Ben a fair bit too over the years, so him helping you out is just karma coming back around.

  ‘Although, to be honest, I’m sure Ben has his reasons, just like I have mine. In my case, those reasons are gold and shiny!’

  Zeb beamed at Kal. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less. Oh, I almost forgot—there was a letter for you in amongst all this stuff.’ She handed Kal an envelope.

  Kal popped the peach into her mouth whole, and tore the letter open. It was from Ben. She read it out loud:

  ‘Kal—before you head out to stir up trouble, go and pay a visit to Doctor Phyn at the university. I’ve arranged for you to test some of the experimental equipment that they’re developing—Ben.’

  She looked down from the roof; the university buildings were right at the bottom of Arcus Hill, on the west bank of the river. ‘It’s on my way,’ she shrugged. ‘I might as well drop in.’

  Kal took a short run up and hurled herself off the edge of Zeb’s roof garden.

  ‘Literally,’ Zeb noted, staring at the lingering dust cloud that Kal had kicked up. Moments later, the still summer air was shattered by the blast of a hundred trumpets: on the opposite side of the city, General Cassava had entered Amaranthium.

  * * *

  Kal swung from the branch of a tall elm and dropped down onto the roof of the house to the rear of Zeb’s, six yards below. A group of people having a midday barbeque on a nearby balcony cheered her on as she negotiated her way down to street level in a series of controlled jumps. Kal darted down a narrow path between two buildings on the opposite side of the street, vaulted a fence and ran through someone’s garden. A man watering flowers looked up as Kal passed, but what was he going to do? Chase her? She scrambled up the university wall and hopped over to the dome of the observatory.

  The large copper dome had a narrow gantry around its circumference. There was a great view over the river and Lover’s Bridge, but Kal didn’t expect that students would be allowed up here to watch the procession. When she was halfway around, though, she saw someone coming the other way: a tall man in knee-length trousers and an open-necked white shirt, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, short brown hair and a wide smile. He greeted her warmly.

  ‘Kal Moonheart! I’ve never seen you out and about in daylight before! I was beginning to think that you might be a vampire.’

  Kal came to a halt in front of him. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him. Dressed down, without his mask, the King of Thieves came across as friendly and unthreatening.

  ‘I came to watch the triumphant general cross the bridge,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think that anyone else would be up here!’

  He laughed when he caught Kal’s disbelieving stare. ‘Actually, I was heading on up the Hill to see what I could steal while everyone who’s anyone is out enjoying the parade.’

  Kal shook her head. The man was nothing if not honest.

  ‘You should come,’ he said seriously. ‘There’s plenty of loot stashed away in those mansions. Too much for just one person to carry; we would make a great team.’

  The worst thing was that Kal was actually tempted. I could go, she told herself, if on
ly just to get in with this guy … before I take him down.

  ‘I’m busy,’ she said. ‘Maybe another time. Now that I know what you look like, I’ll be able to come and find you.’

  ‘There’s rarely any better time than the present,’ he said, but he stepped aside to let her pass. ‘If you ever want to find me, though, just ask around Crab Corner. Everyone knows me; my name’s Will Straightarrow.’

  Kal was suspicious. Why was this man so open? But then who would believe her if she publicly accused him of being behind Amaranthium’s biggest crime spree?

  ‘Off you go then!’ he said. ‘I’ll try to make sure that I’ve finished up at Redrake’s house before you get there.’

  Kal paused as she went by. How did he know so much about her? He was leaning against the rail now, his attention seemingly held by the procession of white-robed figures crossing the bridge. Kal joined him, and for a few slightly awkward moments, they watched the parade below.

  Led by the two outgoing consuls—a brother and sister from the Firehand family, no less—the entire body of the Senate, Ben included, was marching ahead of Cassava’s army. There were a hundred of them … well, ninety-nine now … and Kal could also pick out Felix Firehand, Ganzief Greatbear and Viola Witchwood.

  As if in answer to Kal’s unspoken question, Will Straightarrow began to talk. ‘They haven’t made last night’s murder public yet, but everyone in the city is talking about it. Look at them all, going ahead with their ceremonies and rituals, when behind their gated mansions they are plotting each others’ downfall. It could be Redrake, sure, but people on the street are whispering that Witchwood is the killer. Did you know that three of her lovers—rich and powerful men and women—have died in mysterious circumstances over the years. Some say that poor old Grey was her latest conquest.’

  Kal could play this game too. ‘If you are going to listen to rumours,’ she said, ‘then the killer could be Greatbear. People have always been suspicious of him since he defected from Zorronov. I think everyone has wondered at some point if it’s possible that he’s a double agent. Or what about Felix Firehand; his family have been ruling from behind the scenes for centuries—maybe this is his way of keeping the balance of power tipped in his favour.’

  The senators had now passed, and Cassava’s troops marched into view. They carried the battle flags of their conquered enemies: frightening tribal designs on ragged banners. Shuffling along in chains behind the troops came the prisoners of war: those who had once fought proudly under the captured banners. From a distance they looked like tall bearded men wrapped in unseasonal furs, but Kal knew what monsters Cassava had been fighting in the east …

  Trolls!

  These brutish creatures would be led down to the lowest chambers in the Cut, and at the same moment that General Cassava triumphantly ascended the steps of the Basilica they would be garroted with steel wire. There was no sense in keeping monsters in the city any longer than necessary after showing them off to the crowds.

  From up on the observatory dome, the scene below seemed surreal; there were monsters in the city, but the crowd were cheering and clapping. The King of Thieves was still blathering on about last night’s more real horror. ‘Benedict Godsword,’ he ruminated. ‘Now there’s a man who has potential to be a secret killer. He plays it cool, but the man is descended from ancient kings and gods. Just think how much frustrated entitlement must be simmering under the surface. He’s not put himself up for the consulate, but maybe he has his eye on an even higher position.’ Straightarrow treated Kal to a broad smile. ‘Someone should tell him that there’s only room for one king in this city right now!’

  Kal returned his playful gaze with an accusing one of her own. ‘By the way, what were you doing at Godsword’s party last night?’

  ‘You mean apart from hoping for a chance of a dance with you? I was looking to fill my pockets. You have no idea how profitable a packed party can be: a dance here, a kiss there; a gold bracelet and a silver hairpin …’

  The rumble of drums was getting louder, and Kal could hear shouts, and even some screams, from just out of sight down the Kingsway. A handful of robed priests were running down Arcus Hill and across the bridge, in the opposite direction to the marching troops.

  ‘They don’t look too happy about something,’ Kal said, almost to herself.

  ‘General Cassava always had a knack of winding up the priests,’ Straightarrow said. ‘And there’s your final suspect, right there: I’ve heard rumours that the general killed a dragon out in the Wild. That constitutes an instant knighthood and makes the general a shoo-in for the consulate, despite never having been a senator. It’s no coincidence that after ten years away, there’s murder in the Senate the day before the almighty general returns.’

  Kal’s fingers gripped the iron railing tightly; she had heard a familiar sound over the increasing noise of the crowd—something she had last heard seven years ago and had hoped to forget. No. Not here! Not inside the city! The priests had every reason to be worried: every day in the Basilica they no longer prayed to their own long-dead gods, but instead pleaded to the god of the monsters, the Dragon, to spare the city from its wrath. General Cassava, it seemed, was taking the opposite approach …

  Will Straightarrow whistled when he saw what was coming into view. ‘Well, it seems Cassava didn’t kill a dragon after all!’ he breathed.

  General Cassava rode into view on a white charger. She was wearing silver armour, but her head was bare; Cassava had dark southern skin and hair cut short in a military crop. In one hand she held up a massive lochaber axe; her biceps bulged with the effort of keeping it aloft. In her other hand she gripped a chain, with which she dragged along her sacrifice. It was custom that a general would seal their triumph by executing their greatest enemy in front of the crowds.

  The chains were wrapped around the creature’s muzzle, preventing it from unleashing its cry; but still it whined, making an unmistakable sound that tore at Kal’s eardrums like daggers on glass. The chains criss-crossed down the monster’s neck and then were tangled all over its torso, wings and legs. It managed to half-walk, half-shuffle across the bridge to its doom, prodded from behind by spears. A bloody stump was all that was left of its once mighty tail.

  Crowds were running down Arcus Hill now to get a better view; students were moving in swarms through the university grounds to get to the bridge; and all over the city, shouts, screams, cheers and lamentations mixed in the sultry summer air. The priests were begging Cassava to turn back.

  ‘Oh, this is rare!’ the King of Thieves declared. ‘This is a massive two fingers up to the dragon god. And in all this pandemonium, I could probably walk right into the Basilica and peel the gold off the inside of the dome and nobody would notice! I’ll see you later, Kal!’

  Kal hardly heard him leave. She had closed her eyes as the dragon was dragged across the Forum to the Basilica steps. They must have loosened the chains then, because the dragon’s awful screech split the sky, silencing both the priests’ protests, and the clamour of the crowds. Kal raised her hands to her ears.

  But then, almost as soon as it had begun, the dragon’s cry was cut off with a thud. For the first time since the Midsummer celebrations had started, Amaranthium fell silent.

  The city now had another Dragon Killer.

  ‘I declare a new era!’ Cassava’s clear voice carried across the still air. ‘No longer will we fear monsters outside the city walls, or within our imaginations! For as long as I shall live, I will protect you all from them both!’

  Kal turned away from the spectacle and made her way down from the observatory dome. She was deep in thought as she walked across the now-deserted university quadrangles. Could General Cassava protect the city from what had killed Senator Grey at Ben’s party? Kal shivered despite the heat. Not all monsters had wings and claws.

  III.ii

  Research and Development

  Kal was troubled. Between the priests who begged the Dragon to stay away from t
he city, and the Dragonites who thought that life would be somehow better under the winged god’s rule, General Cassava stood alone, a lightning rod in a storm. Executing a dragon in the city was inviting a repeat of the monster invasion that shook Amaranthium five hundred years ago. Kal could see trouble ahead: there was a groundswell of support for both priests and Dragonites in the city, as well as an arrogant liberal elite who would no doubt approve of Cassava’s troops intervening if citizens came to blows.

  A sweet smell drifted down from the Hill: the priests were burning saffron—an attempt to appease the dragon god by disguising the smell of the blood on the Basilica steps. The last time Kal had smelled that pungent scent was when they had beheaded a Dragonite in Satos Square. The braziers had burned for days, and the smell had hung around Kal’s apartment until she was sick of it. To her, it was the smell of death.

  She shook her head to clear it of morbid thoughts. She had arrived outside the yellow limestone College of Engineering. Ben’s letter hadn’t directed her here specifically, but she was acting on a hunch. Hidden around the back of the college was a modern extension, built in stone to match the older buildings, but still clean and unweathered. There was a shiny plaque on one side of the entrance doors:

  Department of Resistance Analysis

  Sponsored by Senator Benedict Godsword

  1001

  Kal smiled to herself. Resistance Analysis sounded like a euphemism for something. A lot of folk believed that philosophers and alchemists dabbled in magic and arcane rituals behind the ancient walls of the university. When she was new to the city, Kal had once determined to find out for herself what went on here, and had sneaked into a philosophy lecture. Sat among the offspring of wealthy aristocrats (the only citizens who could afford the hefty fees) she had learned two important lessons that day: one, that nobody was checking attendance, so she didn’t need to sneak next time; and two … that there was no discernible difference between a real unicorn and an imaginary unicorn.