The noise had woken Doc Sage’s children. They were standing speechless in the hallway, soaking in the mayhem. Thaena bent down to them and gave them a reassuring smile. She then shooed them back upstairs and told them to wait for their mommy.
“And what about you?” Kyra asked Dryston.
“We brought a murderer into the house of this family,” he said. “I hope they can be at peace soon after we leave.”
Kyra’s look was still concerned. Her thoughts raced about hiding the traces or how to help them to not get drawn into it too much. She didn’t want to be a bad person. But there were times when she thought she was becoming one. Look around you, she thought, at the children, the man in the kitchen. The dead body in the burnt building.
“There is something else troubling you,” Dryston said.
Kyra looked up at him. “Yes. Why did you come after me?”
Dryston smirked and took her hands, not answering.
FAINT FOOTSTEPS at the door made them both look up. Dryston frowned, but it was of short life.
Jade Cyrus came in. It was the first time Kyra had seen her since the crypt.
There were girls like Kyra who were concerned about what they were becoming, and there was Jade. She wasn’t sure if that woman possessed any conscience at all. That was what made her dangerous – also to Dryston, in Kyra’s opinion.
As much of a relief as it was for the others to see her healthy, it was a troubling prospect that she was able to find them. Well versed as she was in path finding, if she could do so, then others could, too.
“Jade! How did you find us?” Dryston asked after beckoning her inside.
Jade looked at the fugitive bound on the kitchen floor. “There are blood stains on the street leading here,” she explained.
Doc Sage hadn’t been made aware of the circumstances that led them to his house. It was best they kept it that way, if they were to maintain the illusion of safety for him and his family.
“SOMEONE NEEDS to keep an eye outside on that road,” Dryston said.
Cormack manned the door spy, hefting his war-scythe in case he had to use it.
Doc Sage returned with a small bag of scalpels and a rongeur. Jade took it and unwrapped the fabric, revealing tiny but deadly sharp, glinting blades. It didn’t take long for her to understand that the man in the kitchen wasn’t one of the missing deserters, but the reason why they wouldn’t be able to return to Jarnsaxa Ornsdottir with the two men alive. The reason that their payment was uncertain and they had taken the risks in vain. It was now their job to find out why.
THE FUGITIVE HAD REMAINED SILENT for most of the time. He was bound to his kitchen chair, a circle of interrogators around him. He knew what would come, and that it wouldn’t be pleasant.
They wanted to sit Skadi opposite him during the interrogation. It was an immense pressure to look her pursuer into the eye. But she didn’t know this man.
JADE WAS BRINGING INSTRUMENTS AND KNIVES.
They wanted to know his name. Who was he working for. He kept silent, till Jade put out her scalpel, sat on his lap face to face and set the blade on his face, her other hand holding his head in place.
“I guess you’ve never met a woman like me before,” she began. “So let me introduce myself to you. I was raised in a culture that performed human sacrifices on their newborn to please our gods, sacrifices of virgins to let the elders bathe in their blood, sacrifices of men to let other men who thought they were stronger drink their blood and sacrifices of elder because they were to meet the gods. You see, even if you grow up in a certain society for your childhood and most of your youth before running away, you are prone to get the knack of the things they are good at. In my case, this is sacrificing. See, we give a higher, spiritual meaning to it. We have special ritual blades for it, crafted of precious materials like volcanic glass. Perfect blades. We have studied the art of anatomy like no other and know where to cut to yield the most beautiful results that please the gods. Cutting is an art. Did you know you can cut a human being like a sculptor can cut a piece of wood? There are special artists for that, where I come from. You would be surprised at the figures that emerge out of a cut-open human body. Nearly every shape is possible; the only bounds are the imagination of the cutter and his skill not to damage sinews and bone structures. I am not a perfect sculptor; I never learned it. And we don’t have the perfect blade here today, only a rusty scalpel. But I will try my best, and you will soon see that it’s in my blood. My grandfather was considered talented. I will skin your face, beginning with your eyelids.”
“You won’t do this,” the fugitive said.
“Are you sure?” Jade taunted. “Look at me! Is there one reason why I wouldn’t do this?”
She stared with those dark eyes into his.
Her hand wandered from the back of his head to cover his mouth, so as not to disturb the children with his screams. His eyes flashed under the scalpel as it began to carve a thin red line through his eyelid. He broke.
“Enough, Jade,” Dryston said.
“I’ll talk,” the fugitive gasped. “Please, I’ll talk. We don’t have to do this. You are crazy!”
“Who are you?” Dryston asked, his patience fading. “And who are you working for?”
“My name is Calder,” the man said. His breathing was coming down. “I work for a man called Argis Cairn-breaker.”
Dryston locked eyes with Kyra.
“HE’S LYING,” Thaena Ashcroft said.
She earned questioning looks from the others.
“I can feel it,” she explained, staring into the unaltered face of the fugitive. “He wants to buy himself time. They are coming for him.”
Dryston knew the bitter truth as soon as he heard it.
He shifted the fugitive’s chair so that he was facing him, leaning in close.
“You mean nothing to them!” Dryston said.
A slim grin crossed the fugitive’s face as he inclined his head to Skadi. There was still a glimmer of malice in his eyes.
“She does,” he whispered.
“CAN YOU EXPLAIN?” Kyra asked the girl.
“I don’t know, for sure, but I can guess,” Skadi began. “I was one of the few survivors of Fellthorpe. Just a young girl, the remaining members of my tribe saw me as a token. They left the site and vanished into hiding, fearing that the fate of their slain families would haunt them one day. They kept to themselves and plotted vengeance in secret. Before they set out and dispersed, there was a ritual that I, as their token, was granted the honor to be part of. For hours, they tattooed my back till my skin was bleeding, chanting out names that I never heard of, a tattoo for each name. They called me Valkyrie afterwards: chooser of the slain. Whoever wanted to avenge the injustice that was done in Fellthorpe, or to other families, would consult my tattoos. I’m carrying a list of all who need to die in the eyes of the Fellthorpe tribe. That makes me a target for everyone on this list, who by some chance learned of its existence. And that makes every surviving member of the tribe a target as someone who wants revenge. You don’t leave survivors. You don’t leave unfinished business, or it comes back and kills you for what you have done. The two men you were looking for that were with me that night were consulting this…”
She turned away from them and lifted her clothes to reveal the tattoos on her slender back. There were too many depictions for Kyra to make anything out at first. But knowing what it was, names stuck out in tribal runes.
“WHO OF THESE PEOPLE gave you the contract?” Kyra asked the beaten man bound to the kitchen chair. She had leaned in close, so that she could already feel his breath and hatred radiating against her face. She saw every detail on the man’s skin, every feature of his face and memorized it involuntarily. It would take her a long time to forget it. Sometimes, those faces returned to her in her dreams, when she already thought she had forgotten them.
The fugitive didn’t talk. He claimed he’d already told them, that he got the contract from a man in the middle, Argi
s Cairn-breaker. Whether this man existed or not, no one knew. Only his boss, Haddock knew the details. There was also the question of how they found out that Skadi carried the list and that the meeting between the northmen and her took place. Either there was an espionage network in place to intercept the ones following the list, or there was a mole inside the tribe circle providing the information.
“Either way, we don’t need the fugitive to find out who issued the order to kill me,” Skadi said. “Argis Cairn-breaker is one man of many who is on my list. We have the list and the place where the contractee most likely is. It is in this very city. We don’t need anything else.”
“Wait. We won’t go further,” Kyra said. “Your death-list has nothing to do with us. We were on a mission from Jarnsaxa Ornsdottir to find two deserters, who now sadly aren’t alive anymore. What they were going to do doesn’t affect us any longer. Our endeavor is over.”
“There was an attempt on Skadi’s life,” Thaena said. “It would have succeeded, if we hadn’t intervened. She is in danger as long as she stays here and the people on the list know that it exists.”
“I know this,” Kyra anwered. “Skadi can come with us. We can take her to Jarnsaxa’s camp. But we will not investigate further, as long as Ornsdottir doesn’t pay us to do so.”
“That is like bringing her into the lion’s den,” Cormack said. “Who knows how Jarnsaxa’s warband is connected with the names on Skadi’s list? Sure, they are mostly barbarians from the north who would sympathize with a fellow maid from their land, but what about the others. There could be gangsters and murderers among their ranks who would sell her out or do what those three tonight attempted to do. Hell, it could even drive Jarnsaxa mad if Skadi attracts too many supporters to her cause that would drive warriors away from the warband’s duties. We don’t know enough about the list and whose name is on it to make a sound judgment.”
“We still have to decide now,” Thaena said.
Skadi let her shoulders sink. “I understand your worries. In fact, I’ve had to deal with the same problems since I got the tattoos. And it gets more dangerous every day. When no one knew about me, I was free to go wherever I wanted. But soon the rumor spread and people found me. At first, the supporters, then the criminals. You can’t hide forever, and you can’t run. You just have to choose your friends wisely. Once I realized this wouldn’t end as long as there is one name on the list still alive, I turned and faced my fate. There is really nothing else left to do. But I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with it. It is something for a rare breed that is bound to me with blood. Most not born in the north wouldn’t understand it. And many born in the north don’t have the courage it takes. It is an honor, a path of glory and pride. The two men today weren’t the only ones consulting my tattoos. Some days ago, a lone berserker came to follow the same path. I haven’t heard of his demise, or much about the bloody path he left behind. But I guess he is still out there, roaming the streets of Skybridge.”
“One more reason to leave this place,” Kyra said. “This has nothing to do with righteousness or law. It is merely self-justice. We don’t want to get caught up in a vendetta. Enough blood has been spilt tonight.”
“What of the fugitive?” Cormack said. “What do we intend to do with him?”
The room was quiet for a while, except for the heavy breathing of the bound man. Blood was dripping from his scalpel wounds onto the floor.
Kyra considered the options. She had seen both ways, to leave captives alive or bury them with what they knew. It had worked in the past without killing, mostly. But there had also been occasions when they had paid dearly for it and ended up trading one life for another. When mercy had make them lose friends, ripped their relationships apart, broken their own psyches.
“The city guard is not to be involved,” Kyra said. “Nor do I want his blood on our hands. I say we release him.”
“And risk that he comes back for Skadi?” Thaena said.
“He is just a pawn, and she is in danger, no matter what,” Jade said.
“Then that sounds like the best move,” Dryston said.
The fugitive sniggered. “You think you can get away with this?” he said to Kyra. “You have killed a man tonight. His friends and family will hunt you down till they get their revenge. And you have prevented a very elusive man from a calm sleep at night. It’s not only the girl that will be chased now. Things have got personal now. They will be after you, too. All of you.”
“I say we let luck decide the fate of this one here, too,” Thaena said. “Because I have a familiar bad feeling about him.”
THERE WAS NO OBJECTION this time, not even from Kyra. When Thaena had a premonition, they had learned to take heed. About half of the times it would prove to be a false alarm. But it had saved Dryston’s skin before at the crypt, when her prediction had been accurate.
Thaena got down on her knees and laid out her tarot cards in front of her. Kyra had seen similar things practiced during her time at the academy at Falkensvard. Each card depicted creatures and saints from the furthest and most sunken places in the world. Each depiction awoke an emotion inside her that she had not been aware of before.
Calder was sitting alone in front of her, his head and shoulders slack. His beaten and slit-open face gleamed from dripping blood in the candlelight. The animal skin that was strained over the window behind him fluttered with every breath the wind took outside in the cold night.
Thaena had an odd expression on her face.
“What do you see, Thaena?” Kyra asked.
Thaena shook her head. “I fear we have lingered here too long,” she said, looking at the fluttering animal skin. “The light makes it easy to find us in a sleeping city. The signs say that we don’t have much power over him anymore. He might be slipping from our grasp soon.”
She could hear weapons being drawn around her, all her friends getting ready and forming a circle.
Then the screaming began, a piercing high-pitched voice far too close, only muffled by the layer of wood that separated them from the floor above.
Kyra knew that kind of scream: it was a deep-rooted sound that sent a chill down her spine.
The children were screaming and didn’t stop. Calder was laughing for the first time. Dryston and Cormack turned to run up the stairs. They were halted by a tumbling body and clawing fingernails that clasped together with the power of a parent in fear. Miesha Sage shoved herself through them and climbed up the steps, kicking them back as they tried to halt her. They warned her not to go first, but she didn’t listen to their pleading.
CHAPTER SIX
BLEED
PLEASE LET THEM BE SAFE! The mental image of what could be behind that door manifested in Dryston’s thoughts.
They found the room in turmoil, the children’s blankets scattered on the floor. Miesha closed her children in her arms as soon as she saw them. They seemed unharmed, but something had frightened them.
Dryston felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He knew that the danger was not over yet. He and Cormack checked the cabinets and doors. The animal skin over the window was hanging loose.
“What have you seen, dears?” Miesha asked her children.
“There was something by the window, Mommy!”
Cormack hefted his scythe and walked over to the window. He pulled away the animal skin and looked out into the night.
DRYSTON KNEW he felt out for the hunt like him. Past experiences brought back the familiar feeling of being close on someone’s trail. He tried to project his thoughts into this someone.
Cormack’s nostrils expanded and lifted as he sniffed the smoky night air.
“I’ll be back soon,” he grunted and heaved himself over the window ledge.
The hunting instinct took over.
The stars shone under a blanket of flimsy clouds. The coldness gave the night a sharpness and made visibility clear. Cormack found himself on the thatched roof, grappling onto the straw. He checked the chimn
ey and the dark corners of the roof. No one else seemed to be here. That was good. If the intruder had fled or returned to the ground, Cormack might be able to surprise him from that vantage point.
JADE HEARD A VOICE she remembered. The panicked nuances in the cry for help made her wince. Now she remembered who it belonged to. She got up to look through the door spy. The merchant she had met earlier was standing outside, sweating, his face contorted. His knocking got more frenzied the nearer dull, heavy steps came from the roof.
“Holy Mother of… Let me inside, please,” he whispered. “There is something on the roof! Oh my God, what is this?” His eyes, wide with fear, met Jade’s through the door spy. He clawed desperately on the handle.
“It’s coming closer. Please!” he cried out.
A shadow passed over the man’s face and he let go of the handle. Something he had spotted just now left the edge of the roof and leapt. It landed heavily behind the merchant, ready to tear him to pieces. Jade exhaled swiftly and ripped open the door, closing it behind the man once he was inside.
THE MAN TUMBLED FORWARD. He had taken his time when he was in the open. The devious merchant had examined the surgeon’s house from every angle, studied the composition of walls and rooms from the outside and listened to the inhabitants for long enough to determine their vague positions. He knew they held their captive in the kitchen.
He rolled with an axe in one hand and a long knife in the other. Before they even realized it, he was amongst them, locked inside the surgeon’s house.
“Haddock! Not a second too late,” Calder exclaimed.
Haddock swung his axe.
Calder cried out in shock as the smile of Haddock’s axe smashed through his handcuffs and part of his skin near the arteries. There was simply no time for cutting him loose.
CALDER DASHED FORWARD to the kitchen table, crashing into Jade and knocking it over in the action. She found herself immediately in competition with the assailant to get the scalpels.
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