Bloodletting Part 1: The Affinities Cycle Book 1

by Mark Ryan

  She worked her tongue, trying to whisper their rough language. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  He studied her, anger easing into inscrutability. With a bump of one shoulder, he released her and pointed to the cell. She’d need to go back out later for more water, but for now she acquiesced.

  The oroc sealed the entry with earthen bars, something they hadn’t done in weeks. To keep her in … or keep other orocs out? As he turned away, Kunat joined him and the two spoke in hushed tones. Gnarrl held the same shamed posture as Kunat, and for the first time she wondered which of them had pushed Surro off of her—and if they now regretted doing so.

  ***

  Chapter 39

  Tetra Bicks

  Tetra shifted his feet and angled his shield to deflect the incoming blow. Bealdred’s Graviton enhanced strike glanced off and the older man stumbled. Taking advantage of the rare vulnerability, Tetra rushed in. His sword smacked into Bealdred’s leather jerkin, but bounced away as if he’d hit a brick wall. The impact jarred his arm and stung his hand, but he kept his grip.

  Bealdred’s gave his usual ornery smile. “Density magic can save your life in a pinch, git. It’s not just for attackin’, y’know.” Holding up a hand to pause the match, he strolled over and plopped into a bench. “There’s somethin’ satisfying about turnin’ a cotton shirt into a breastplate. Doin’ it too much, though, will get yah tired quick.” He eyed Tetra. “Why’d you lighten the blade before you hit me?”

  Tetra frowned. “It makes it faster, and … we’re sparring.” When Bealdred just cocked an eyebrow, he explained further. “Who’ll train me if I hurt you?”

  Bealdred roared laughter, and it took him a minute to regain control. “Well, since you put it that way …”

  Tetra shrugged, taking a seat beside the burly man. Maybe he exaggerated, but he really had no desire to hurt Bealdred, even if he could. No one else could show him the intricacies of Graviton combat.

  “Self-control is a good thing, don’t get me wrong.” Bealdred coughed away another bout of chuckles. “But holdin’ back like that in a real fight is gonna get yah killed. Yer enemy will try to kill yah. Return the courtesy, yeah?”

  A patrol thundered into the courtyard without slowing as they normally did after passing the portcullis. Kafa barked and raced alongside them.

  “That’s enough for today.” Bealdred handed his practice mace to Tetra as the patrol came to a halt. He stood and headed for the patrol, most of the other guardsmen doing the same.

  Tetra returned their equipment to the racks and then ran after, sensing something amiss. He stayed back a little, not wanting to get close enough to be noticed and sent away. Grabbing a shovel from a nearby tool shed, he pretended to work at the piles of icy gravel built up along the nearest walkway. He’d been assigned the chore anyways, a way to keep his strength up even when not training.

  Several of the patrol horses had guardsmen draped and tied in place over their hindquarters. They must’ve taken losses in a skirmish—but with who? Bandits? Orocs? The soldiers dismounted and began laying the slain guardsmen in a line on the ground. Sergeant Reynolds joined the group. After glancing at the situation, he sent a runner for a lieutenant or the nearest officer to be found. Tetra edged closer to eavesdrop.

  “Not any of our men, but they’re wearing our colors.”

  “Yeah, but you call that armor? Looks like a buncha ragtags dressed up to fight and got more than they bargained.”

  Tetra studied the dead. On closer inspection, they did appear to wear shoddier, mismatched armor, with patched leather and cloth forming most of it. Several even lacked mail undershirts. Not that Drayston’s troops were outfitted with anything special, but their green-and-gold uniforms were kept at a respectful orderliness.

  “Could they be Cultrayne’s men, from the western outpost?” one soldier asked.

  Reynolds shook his head. “I’ve met most of Captain Cultrayne’s men, and he hasn’t received any new recruits for months.”

  “They’re not from Mirewatch,” another guardsman said. “Their standard is blue and black.”

  The crowd continued to grow and Tetra worked his way closer, hiding among the numbers.

  “What’s going on?” a woman’s voice called. Wiry and blonde, she marched through gathering, with soldiers going to attention and saluting.

  Reynolds straightened and saluted as well. “Lieutenant Heiml, seems we’ve suffered casualties, but we can’t place them.”

  “You’re kidding me. We have dead that no one knows?” The lieutenant glanced at the bodies. “Where did this happen?”

  The patrol commander pointed north. “We found them just outside the northern edge of the Rocmire, five miles west of Mirewatch, sir.”

  Not too far from Jaegen, Tetra remembered. Near Ulfast, one of the closest villages to his own home.

  “Any sign of their attackers?” Lieutenant Heiml asked.

  “No, sir. They were cold when we found them. No tracks or anything around to even indicate a battle. Like they was killed elsewhere, and then dumped there to be found.”

  Grumbles ran through the crowd. Tetra frowned. No tracks? He knew exactly what that meant.

  “Sergeant,” said the lieutenant. Several voices answered, including Reynolds’. She faced him. “I want the patrols doubled and I want them patrolling yesterday.”

  “Yes sir,” Reynolds said.

  “Concentrate them around the villages in Fallel Hills. We’ve noted an increase in highway banditry there lately.” She scowled at the bodies. “Give orders for all civilians and recruits to be questioned so we can find out where these men came from. And be doubly sure to warn of the consequences for those who masquerade as our own troops.”

  She raised her voice to quell further mutterings. “We’ll bring their killers to justice, sure enough, but right now we have a responsibility to protect the settlements under our banners. Secure the territory, then we’ll investigate.”

  “Right away, sir.” Reynolds barked orders to the men around him, the other sergeants joining in. Soldiers ran off to prep their gear and horses.

  In the bedlam, Tetra abandoned his chore and went to examine the bodies. Whomever they’d run afoul of had been none too kind. Some of the slain had a dozen major wounds, any one of which would’ve been lethal. Gruesome, yes, but Tetra had seen such gore before. And their outfits, while torn and shredded by battle, looked even more slipshod up close. Nothing a real soldier would wear. These couldn’t be guardsmen, and especially not from Drayston.

  He came to the last body in the line and stopped. Mud and blood covering the body made it hard to spot what had killed the man. Tetra bit back a gasp. The corpse had no visible wounds and the clothes, while sloppy, weren’t torn or cut. Locked open, the eyes stared into the sky as if revisiting the last seconds of death, the face rictus of horror. Tetra knew this look, too. He reexamined the other slain to reassure himself he saw true. One crushed skull, many broken limbs, and numerous gut punctures.

  His back tensed as the memory of his father came back to him. The wounds he had sustained.… Your Sister. You must get her back. Save her.

  “Tetra, what are you doing?”

  Tetra jumped and turned to see Corporal Mikkels watching him. The corporal thumbed over at the shovel the boy had dropped. “Shouldn’t you be working? Go on now. We’ll take care of all this.”

  “Corporal, take a look at—”

  “Leave them be. Healer Alma will examine them.”

  “But sir, I know what killed them. At least, I think I do.”

  Mikkels’ expression turned quizzical. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Look, this man has no wounds. Isn’t that … odd?”

  Mikkels seemed ready to wave him off, but stayed his hand. Walking closer, he ignored the others scrambling around the courtyard. He studied the body for a long moment, then the others, then back to the first. His gaze went distant, as if recalling his own memories for comparison.

  T
hen he straightened and shouted, “Sergeant Reynolds!”

  After a few seconds, the sergeant emerged from a cluster of guardsmen, looking for who had called him. Mikkels waved to get his attention.

  “What is it, Corporal?” Reynolds frowned as he noticed Tetra. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I think you should hear this, sir.” Mikkels put a hand on Tetra’s shoulder. Bealdred appeared beside them, beefy arms crossed.

  “Well?” Reynolds said when Tetra didn’t speak up.

  “This one, sir.” Tetra pointed at the particular body.

  “What about him?”

  “No wounds. Nothing more than a scratch.”

  Reynolds exchanged glances with Bealdred and both men knelt to examine the body closer.

  “He’s right,” Bealdred said after a moment.

  “Bandits would’ve had a few swords or daggers, right?” Tetra asked. “A lot of the wounds here are crushing ones, like from clubs. The bigger wounds look more like they were impaled, not just stabbed. Really thick spears maybe, but …” Tetra said. “I … I think I know what did this. It’s just like everything I saw in Jaegen.”

  After inspecting the others, Reynolds and Bealdred rose. The sergeant nodded at him. “I know where you are headed Tetra, but go on. Explain.”

  “All of these wounds are the same as Jaegen. I think this was done by orocs, sir.” Tetra stared at the sergeant, willing him to believe with the conviction he felt.

  “Tetra.” Reynolds drew in a ragged breath, frowning. “You have been hurt by the orocs. But you see them around every corner now. You even named your training dummy after one of them, isn’t that right? I don’t dispute that what you see could be correct, but that doesn’t mean it is. What reason would these men have to get into a fight with orocs?”

  Tetra swallowed to wet his dry throat. He was going out on a limb, with no evidence to back up his idea, but … “I think villagers from Ulfast and maybe some of the other close settlements decided to take revenge for Jaegen. Because Lord Drayston didn’t do anything, they formed their own militia.”

  Reynolds swore. “Wearing our colors. If your theory is right, this is going to end badly.”

  “Yes sir. And they went out to hunt any orocs they could find.”

  “How would they know to do that?”

  Mikkels spoke up. “We haven’t sent out any official word about the attack, sir, seeing as it’s all unconfirmed. But there’s plenty of rumors and whispers. It’d be easy for anyone looking to place the blame to latch onto the orocs as the culprits.”

  Tetra pointed at the slain. “These wounds are just like what you’d get if you fought orocs and lost.” He placed a hand over his stomach, where a faint puckered scar remained from his own impaling. “I’d know.”

  The sergeant looked to Bealdred. “What do you think?”

  “I think …” The blacksmith paused. “I think thirty seasoned guardsmen missed what the git saw right away. Doesn’t mean he’s right. But do we want to take the chance of ignorin’ him if he is?”

  “Killed by orocs,” Mikkels shook his head. “Did they instigate the attack or did these poor fools?”

  A first patrol, twenty-five strong, thundered out of the courtyard gate.

  “If the git is right, I’m bettin’ they killed at least one defendin’ themselves.” Bealdred gnawed a thick lip. “But with the getups, they damned well instigated. They went lookin’ fer trouble and couldn’t handle what they found.”

  Another patrol left the castle.

  “If Tetra is right, we have a problem. I’m inclined to believe him, if only because disregarding him could invite disaster. The lack of tracks away from where the bodies were left points at a Tecton being involved. If it was orocs they will be telling others about being attacked by humans, men wearing Drayston colors.” Reynolds watched a third patrol gallop out of the castle’s southern gate. Sudden understanding flared in his eyes. He sprinted for the castle’s command wing, where the lieutenant had gone.

  “Ah, Voids.” Bealdred shook his head. “If the Rocmire clans decide to retaliate, they’ll hit us here. The Rocmire clans outnumber us by at least five ta one already.”

  “And we’re sending everyone out on patrol,” Mikkels finished.

  Bealdred grabbed Tetra’s shoulder, turning him so they were facing. The blacksmith squinted, worry written across his features. “I hope to the Aspects that yer wrong, git.”

  ***

  Chapter 40

  Halli Bicks

  For a week after the fight between Kunat and Surro, the girls remained contained, either in their cell or in the long cave just beyond. A guard had been re-posted outside the entrance, and once more, Halli wondered if this had been done to keep an eye on the humans, or ensure none of their captors came to strangle them in the middle of the night. She put her hand to her throat, still feeling Surro’s grip.

  She hadn’t realized how much her limited freedom meant until they took it away. Locked away from the forest canopy, days reduced to shades of meaningless and sedentary boredom, stone walls on all sides. It ate at the mind, serving to remind them how little control she held over her own life.

  The other girls felt it as well. During these months, they’d learned how to withstand whole weeks of uncertainty and tribulations, but now their patience frayed at the edges. Squabbles broke out among them, and Halli had to separate several of them before they hurt each other so badly she needed to apply healing. It disturbed her, seeing them fight one another like the orocs did, losing their unity to petty differences.

  Halli kept herself sane by returning her focus to Katerine. She finished her morning meal and then started the ritual of forcing food down her friend’s throat.

  By now, Kat’s body had atrophied to the point where, even if she woke, she wouldn’t likely move for a long while. Even if Halli figured out an escape plan like the boys had managed, and even if Kat regained awareness in time, she’d have to be left behind. Nor did Halli feel any closer to knowing what kept her asleep. Her spirit remained within her body, vibrant and strong, and her natural functions regulated themselves, except for eating and drinking. According to the girls, she took no injury the night of the raid.

  Since the orocs had many powerful Geists, she tried to think through all the techniques she’d been taught and how they could cause this sort of condition. Tearing the spirit from the flesh would’ve caused instant death, not this lingering.

  Just as she administered the last spoonful, a commotion rose off in the distance. It came from outside, in the main camp, and yet she heard it tucked all the way back in this cave. Laney stood and went to their barred entry, where several of the other girls joined her.

  “What’s going on?” Halli asked as she continued with feeding Kat.

  “No idea,” Laney said. “Can’t you make sense of it?”

  Halli listened, but shook her head. Angry shouts, by the sound of it, alongside a rumbling that she thought might be many running feet. The voices she caught overlapped too much for her to understand.

  As she rose, an oroc appeared at the entry, making Laney and the others jump back. Halli recognized Kunat, who dispersed a few bars with a pass of a hand, which he then held out to her.

  “Follow. You. No others.”

  Halli exchanged worried looks with the others, though they didn’t know what he said. She patted the air to indicate they should remain, while she edged out to join the oroc. He headed off towards the cave mouth, and she hastened to match his long strides.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  Kunat looked at her sidelong. “We had balance, but it has been broken. Gnarrl says you should see.” He barred her with an arm before they came too close to the outside. Then he guided her to a hollow in one wall, where shadows hid her from easy observation by anyone out in the open. “Stay. Watch and listen, but be wise. And quiet. Take root, do not act as a sapling.”

  A mob of orocs swarmed past the cave and joined a growing throng befo
re the main cavern entrance. Kunat slipped off with them, but with a more measured pace than the rest. Halli pressed back against the stone wall, not wanting to be found without a protector with everyone so riled. Her heart stuttered in panic as she saw her breath escape her like puffs of cloud into the frigid morning air. Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried to take shallow breaths as she strained to hear and see what went on.

  After another minute, as hush fell over the assembled orocs—though their agitated forms made them look like a forest shifting in a strong wind. Argant’s antlers glided through the silenced crowd and stopped when the shaman reached the center of the disturbance. Orocs pushed out of his way, and a chance gap opened up, letting Halli see what lay before the shaman’s feet. A body. A human body, dressed in bloodstained green-and-gold leathers.

  Argant’s voice boomed. “What is purpose of this, Mossruc?” He addressed an oroc who displayed a distinctly different skin color and pattern than any Halli had seen. Golds and ambers wove through his living clothing, offsetting the mossy greens and yellows of his skin. He looked like fall incarnate.

  Mossruc raised his voice for all to hear. “Harvesters from the Willowhawk clan found a group of human warriors attacking gatherers near one of their southern human dens. They started with ancients, making sure they could not protect saplings. They …” He wavered. “They then … burned the … defenseless saplings, slowly, one at a time.” Shrieks and shouts erupted from the crowd, but Mossruc shouted them down. “Our Willowhawk hunters chased the humans down and killed them for their crime. We bring this one as proof.”

  The racket broke out again. Argant alone remained unswayed. Through the chaos, Halli spotted Kunat and Gnarrl behind him, arguing fiercely with others. The tumult continued until an oroc cried for the rest to listen.

  Mrgle turned as he spoke, meeting the eyes of everyone around him. “Humans do not respect the balance. They took, so we took, and then they take again. So long as we allow them to live, so long as they are among us, we will never have balance.” He pointed at the cave containing the girls. “We should have killed them months ago, but at least now we have a proper message to send. This is an act by the ancient known as Drayston. Let us respond by flaying the human saplings and sending them back in pieces!”