by Cait Ashwood
Hound caught a servant’s eye as they stormed into the Institute. “Get a bath to Ace’s quarters immediately, and get the community baths nice and hot. They’re going to need it.”
“Sir.” The servant gave a quick bow and dashed off.
The entire exchange lasted a few seconds, but Ace and the boy were already far ahead of him. He had to jog to catch up. I hope I don’t have to keep him from killing the kid. Whatever had convinced him to take Lily, Hound hoped to hell it had been worth it.
The bath was miraculously ready when they reached the room. Servants here are on the ball. Must have had the coals going for hours under this thing. Ace dumped the kid in, clothes and all.
Enough is enough. This was a childish prank, not a malicious act. “Ace.” Hound never really lost his commander’s voice, even though it had been years since he’d used it.
Ace turned, his face a mask of anger and betrayal.
“Why don’t you let me take it from here?”
Ace glared at the teen, looked back at Hound, and repeated the gesture a few more times. “I need to get out of these wet clothes, anyway.”
He didn’t go far and was still within earshot, but the kid’s shoulders were no longer clenched up to his ears. Hound stood next to the bath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t think this makes things any easier, kid. Just slightly more rational.”
To his credit, the kid nodded. “I was supposed to pick her back up the next morning, but when I went to get her, she was gone. I checked at the farm house I’d dropped her off at. They don’t even have a son.” His voice was high and panicked, and while he wasn’t making a ton of sense, Hound memorized the words.
“Start at the beginning, son.”
He took a deep breath, shivering despite the heat of the bath. “Right.”
The whole story came out and Hound stood there, staring at the kid. Dylan was his name, apparently. “So, Lily goes missing right under your nose, and you didn’t think to report it?” He wasn’t going to yell at the kid for being blackmailed; he’d leave that for Ace. What mattered right now was finding Lily.
“There was no trail. She’d made the whole thing up. It was raining hard, and I couldn’t find her tracks. They were already washed away. Please, sir, there was nothing else I could do.”
Except tell the people in charge. Hound sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The kid had done everything he would have in the situation, so at least some of his training had taken root. “Something like this ever happens again, you tell your chain of command the moment you’re aware something’s wrong. Got it?”
Dylan nodded, then attempted to salute, slinging water all over Hound. The boy blanched and Hound looked down at his chest. “Go back to your bunk. Ace will deal with you tomorrow.”
He’d never seen a boy move so quickly. He’d long since shed his clothes in the bath, so the kid grabbed a towel and literally streaked from the room. Ace came out from behind the changing screen, arms crossed over his chest.
“He investigated the same way we would have, Ace. Two days of this rain? There’s not going to be a sign left of her.”
Ace snorted. “There might have been, yesterday.”
“Not even the dogs would have been able to pick up a trail yesterday. It’s too wet, Ace.”
The First Seeker sighed, hanging his head. “I know.”
The silence stretched between them.
Ace finally spoke again, seeming hesitant. “Audrey isn’t going to like this but... we need the Ravens.”
Hound didn’t miss a beat. “Agreed. Short of stationing men in every town and city, and sending out patrols--”
“Which we don’t have the manpower to do--”
“They’re our best option.”
Ace sighed heavily again. “I should be the one to tell her, I guess.”
Hound shook his head, placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Leave that to me.”
It came as no surprise to Hound, a few hours later, that Audrey had penned the letters to the Ravens, and to Zeche, personally. He accompanied her to the rookery and watched as the black birds took off into an even darker sky. He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and held her until the birds were out of sight.
Chapter Six
Sabre mimicked Vex’s furious onslaught as he advanced on Stryker.
I’ve never seen anyone faster than Vex. His sister might be short, but that didn’t mean she was harmless. The training room was well-lit with a smooth stone floor and no obstacles, quite unlike the environment he’d fought her in. There would be no convenient puddles of water to use as a distraction, here. All Stryker could fall back on was his skill at reading people.
The training room was close enough to the surface that they could phase at will. Where Zad found more Seekers like Sabre to join his ranks, Stryker didn’t know. He thought they all resided at the Institute. For all that Zad debased and mocked them, he was still willing to take the men into his ranks.
Blades skittered off his own, but he didn’t have to expend as much energy blocking them, instead redirecting their energy and making his attacker wear himself out. Though I suppose he isn’t technically a Seeker. Sabre hadn’t trained with the surface Seekers. His mother had hidden him from their searches when he was young, so he’d avoided recruitment.
Sabre vanished and Stryker threw himself to the ground in a sideways roll, his blades on either side of his head and safely away from his body as he hit the ground. He sprung back to his feet to find Sabre exactly where he’d expected him to be.
“How is it you always know where I’m going to go?” The canny weapons master stalked back in.
Stryker didn’t give him a chance to go on the offensive, launching an attack of his own. “It’s a gift,” he replied, voice straining on the last word as their blades clashed together.
Stryker searched for holes in the trainer’s defenses and found that Sabre was much more competent than Vex. The girl was so accustomed to slicing her opponents to bits that she never really had to work on defense. The exercise was as much a mental one as it was physical, and Sabre had his full attention. He was aware of the door to the training room opening and closing, and he saw Sabre’s eyes dart to identify the newcomer. The instructor gave no cue that they should cease their training, so Stryker took advantage of the momentary distraction.
The attack almost worked, except Sabre phased out of danger at the last second. Acting on instinct, Stryker didn’t move to evade at all, sending one of his blades slicing through empty air--right where Sabre reappeared. The instructor threw himself on the floor, flinging his blades up in a desperate defense. Stryker’s blade was deflected to the side and he allowed the redirection. With Vex, he’d have used his momentum to go into a spin and attack with both blades. Sabre had proved to be too dangerous while prone, however. Stryker instead stepped back, allowing the man to return to his feet and face him on even footing again. Stryker didn’t know enough about prone fighting to find out the hard way exactly how Sabre was going to embarrass him, especially not knowing who their spectator was.
“That’s enough.”
Annoyance flickered across Sabre’s features, quickly dismissed. He returned his blades to their sheaths and bowed to Zaddicus, dismissing himself immediately after.
Reluctance slowed Stryker’s hands and he put the weapons away, stalling. Zad was breathing down his and Vex’s necks right now, and he was getting tired of it. He needed some fresh air and was seriously considering a trip to the surface to get it.
“Sometime when I wasn’t looking, you went soft on me.” Zad spoke quietly, but it was when the man was calm that he was the most dangerous.
Stryker bristled at the accusation. His mind trapped him in endless circles of questions, and those questions had only grown with Sabre’s teachings. The man had a moral code Stryker hadn’t previously been exposed to, but found it resonated with him. However, none of this would be good news in his father’s eyes, and Stryker kept it hidden
from him.
“What do you mean?” It was always easier to make Zaddicus spell things out than to guess; he’d learned that lesson early.
Zad said nothing, instead wrapping him in a hold with the taint.
Stryker fought against it instinctively, feeling out where the cage was weak and exploiting it. He wasn’t quite able to break free, but Zad was having to fight him like the devil to keep the hold in place.
“What use is strength, my son, if you refuse to use it?”
The words whispered against his ear, Zad’s breath souring the air he breathed. This time when he launched his willpower against the hold, it shattered. He gasped for air, glaring at his father.
“You want me to use it on my sister? No trouble there.” He spat the words out, but inwardly winced. Zad wanted them to hate each other, and also work together. Stryker couldn’t figure out how he thought it was a sustainable system. Fine, old man. Have it your way. I’ll cow her if that’s what you really want.
Zad tisked, but backed away a few steps. “You lack the initiative required in a commander.” Zad stared down his nose at his son, wrinkling it slightly as if Stryker disgusted him.
It occurred to Stryker to search him for weapons. Zad didn’t tolerate weakness and wasn’t above killing his own offspring if they displeased him. Zad tucked his arms up his voluminous sleeves, not giving Stryker any reassurances that he wasn’t about to bite the dust.
“Is this about my training?” It was the only thing that had changed recently, and if he’d done this horrible a job of concealing Sabre’s effect on him, then he was in bigger trouble than he thought.
Zad scowled, his face growing red. “This is about how you’ve been letting that little whelp of a girl beat you all these years when you had it in you to stop her!”
Stryker narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. “You know I’m not actually the problem, right?”
Absolute silence filled the training room.
“The problem is you, expecting us to work as a team, to co-command, to lead your vision into the future, but you keep pitting us against each other. Why would I want to irreparably hurt the person I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life working with? Either I dominate her and she loses efficacy in her position, or I let her think we’re equals and she keeps striving to her full perfection. Why the hell do you think I’m training so hard with Sabre? She bests me with the blades, I best her with the taint. If I’m going to have any chance of keeping us on the right path later on, I need a few tricks up my sleeve. And you keep coming in and interrupting me.” His chest heaved. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper like that and his heart hammered, fearful of the repercussions.
Zaddicus’ slightly widened eyes and slowly curving mouth indicated that maybe he’d actually done the right thing. “You think further ahead than I give you credit for.”
Stryker wasn’t sure how to take that. But that’s how he likes things; make you fear for your life one minute, and praise you the next. It annoyed him that this game still affected him.
Zad clasped his hands behind his back. “And while your reasoning makes sense in that situation, it does not where your treatment of Sabre is concerned. You spared him when you had the perfect opportunity to strike.”
Stryker pulled his head back, stunned. “You want me to kill my instructor?”
Zaddicus didn’t answer.
Stryker shook his head, blowing out his breath. “Last time I thought he was prone, I nearly lost my hand. It was caution, not mercy. I haven’t seen everything he’s capable of yet, but I know I don’t have much of a ground game.” As someone who could phase, needing a ground game wasn’t something Stryker had considered before. With his uncanny ability to know where his opponent was going to phase to next, he’d rarely needed it.
“Mercy. See, that’s a word I’ve never taught you.” Zaddicus paced slowly, finger tapping against his lips.
Shit. It’s not like he didn’t know what it meant. Most of their men were from the surface and had been raised differently than he and Vex were. Surely Zad didn’t think he could keep everything about the surface world a secret from them?
Zad frowned. “You fight Vex tomorrow. If you value your hide, I suggest you fight her to the fullest extent of your abilities.”
Stryker swallowed. Once he was in her head, he could make her slit her own throat. She’d have no defense against it. “I’m not killing my own sister.”
There was nothing to be gained by killing Vex, and a great deal to be lost. They were the strongest in the taint, after Zaddicus himself, but that didn’t mean a few underlings couldn’t gather together to take one of them out. Together, they appeared unified, harder to topple. There was no dissension in the ranks currently, but cut their leader down to just Stryker? It wouldn’t end well.
Zad’s eyes narrowed nearly to slits. “You will if I tell you to.” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the training center, the door slamming so hard behind him it rebounded off the wall.
Stryker swallowed hard, staring at his blade in the weapon stand. Shit.
Chapter Seven
If someone told me assassins snored, I’d have called them a liar. True, Zeche didn’t saw logs like some of the drunkards in taverns did, but the noise was there all the same, a faint rumbling with each breath. Rowan’s eyes drifted over their camp. The pair was largely nomadic by nature, but Rowan had noticed a subtle pattern to their roaming. Zeche never spent the night in a single place more than once in his life, if he could help it. The paranoia seemed excessive to Rowan, but the assassin was still alive, so there might be something to it.
They always found their way just outside of one of the twelve cities every nine days. Rowan guessed the order of the appearances was something coordinated with Nikita, the oft-cursed but rarely seen leader of the Ravens. Zeche had co-led with her for years, but eventually delegated the post to her in its entirety. After retiring, he devoted his time to raising and training the boy so heartlessly cast aside by his own family.
Rowan turned over the rock in his hands. The urge to throw it was strong, but his training was stronger. A Watcher never left evidence of his passing behind if he could help it. Throwing the rock would leave a skid mark and divot in the earth, and anyone looking could trace the path back to the point of origin. Their campsite would be obvious at that point; no one could unbend stalks of grass.
So many of Zeche’s tactics were adopted because he lost the ability to phase. These were things that wouldn’t necessarily occur to someone who wasn’t analyzing their chances for survival after the loss of an ability that rendered such fears mute.
Rowan squinted at the sky in the east, relieved to see it was slowly lightening. Dawn would be upon them soon, and then they’d move on to whatever plans Zeche had for them today. Rowan turned his head, scanning the horizon habitually. He did a double take, scarcely seeing the bird flying toward them. If it had been coming from the west, he’d have missed it entirely. He loosened his sword in its scabbard, prepared to cut the bird down if necessary. If it wasn’t a messenge intended for them, the animal could not return to its master.
The raven reached them, circling overhead twice. It did a peculiar flap mid-lap each time and Rowan extended his arm toward it. Raven-trained birds always had some trick or another to help operatives identify them. Zeche hadn’t told him all the tells, but he recognized this one. The bird circled once more before coming in for a landing, clipping its wings briskly against its back to settle the feathers. Rowan held the tip of his glove between his teeth, freeing his right hand. The bird extended its leg only slightly, staring at his hand as he approached as if it intended to bite him.
Rowan flicked the bird’s beak with his forefinger and the intruding head withdrew, the beast cawing softly. Rowan glanced over at Zeche, but the snoring remained undisturbed. He freed the message from the bird’s wing, then stared at the intelligent creature. “Are you waiting for a reply?”
The bird stared at him a moment, th
en extended its wings. The claws dug into his arm as the bird pushed off, taking flight to the north. Guess not. Rowan glanced at Zeche again, wondering if he should wait for his master to wake before reading the message.
I’m a Watcher now, officially. I suppose it can’t hurt to look. The piece of paper was small by necessity, crowded by an unfamiliar script on one side.
Z:
L on the loose, potentially mounted. In danger. Last seen outside Calanon. Tracks wiped by rain. Send word if seen.
One is enough.
- A
Knowing what he did now about his heritage, it wasn’t hard for him to decode the message. His sister was missing, and Audrey wanted them to find her. The only part of the message he didn’t get was the last sentence. One is enough. One what? Bird? Message? It wasn’t clear.
He carefully re-rolled the parchment and secured it with the tie. Anger coursed through him like a howling storm. It sounded to him like Lily had found a way to run away from their mother. If Audrey treated Lily with even a bit of the disregard that she had for her firstborn son, it was no wonder his twin wasn’t happy.
Good riddance, I say. Glad she got away.
The women of the Order were little more than baby machines at this point. True, they kept food in the world, and everyone admired their sacrifice, and blah blah blah. That was only a small part of their job. Most of it lay in spreading their legs and birthing babies to ensure the continuation of the bloodline. After it was so nearly wiped out, making sure a repeat could never happen was priority number one on everyone’s mind. Lily shouldn’t have to be a part of that if she doesn’t want to. He hadn’t ever paid attention to the girls at the Tower, no more than any other teenage boy would, but he knew the number of girls who were exuberant about their duties was slim.