Valverna

by A Clarkson

  Ira gaped at him. That seemed impossible.

  "Succeeded in," she paused, searching for the words, "sending someone somewhere without their body?”

  Magnus' eyes were lit with excitement as he continued.

  "Yes! Though, it looks like they travel with a body of some sort, as they are somewhat corporeal.” He thought for a moment, “But not only that, also sending someone many thousands of kilometres away!"

  Her shock was beginning to dim as skepticism crawled back in. No, it was impossible. Advances in technology ground to a halt after the Drought. Even moving backwards as the world struggled to remember how it lived prior to the years of fossil fuels. Astral projection was beyond anything that had been possible then, let alone now. No, Magnus may believe it, but Ira couldn't. It simply wasn't possible.

  Magnus grinned at her, as if sensing her growing doubt, and knowing he could stamp it out.

  "And what if I was to tell you that I know this because that boy - who is eleven by the way, not ten - who you just gave a lesson to on earning the trust and respect of his subjects,” he said through a huffed laugh, causing Ira to roll her eyes at him in irritation, “was the Crown Prince to the Sarcosian Empire, Adrian Sarcosa."

  The Sarcosian Empire was Valverna's main rival in terms of wealth and power. Made up of a network of islands, the country made its wealth by dominating the waters and effectively controlling trade. They were not only the leaders in ship building in the world, but also controlled large stretches of waterways, demanding steep tariffs for their role in policing the waters from the threat of pirates.

  Ira wasn't sure what to say. She realised now that Magnus' look of surprise when entering her home hadn't been due to the young boy sitting on the couch. But rather, due to who exactly that young boy was.

  "Ok," she conceded, "so even if that was really Adrian Sarcosa, a fact I'm still not entirely convinced of mind you. That doesn't mean he was teleporting."

  “True,” he nodded in agreement, however the sly smile on his face told her he wasn’t finished with his explanations.

  She pursued her lips in irritation. “Come on, out with it.”

  His smile was utterly dazzling. Ira realized she hadn’t seen him truly smile before now, and the pure joy on his face in this moment was so breathtaking Ira almost missed what he said next.

  “The reason we now know that the Sarcosain Empire has mastered some form of teleportation is because I was with the Sarcosian royal family not four weeks ago. During my time with them I was provided with a tour of their newest research facilities and shown some of the earlier research in their quest for astral projection and teleportation.”

  He spoke quickly and gestured with his hands when he was excited, Ira noted. It was a very human trait. She found she liked him when he was a bit more human.

  “I see now that they must have been more successful than they let on, because Adrian Sarcosa could not possibly have travelled here on his own two legs, and then proceeded to walk about the rybrum fields with you. Because while I was with them, he fell from a horse and snapped his right femur. He will be bed bound for a minimum of six more weeks, and even then, he will be severely hampered for many months to come. That boy you just saw, who simply walked straight through your locked front door, is in a bed three thousand miles from here.”

  Chapter 8

  The Ointment

  They returned to the barge in silence. Magnus seemed to be reeling in the revelation that the Sarcosian Empire successfully mastered something so groundbreaking.

  Ira knew the ramifications were huge. With something even remotely akin to astral projection people across the world would be able to easily and instantly communicate. Something she heard existed in the pre-Drought era. The history books stated that people were able to continue using the technology for a few decades following The Drought, but as the technology aged and broke over time, no one was able to replace or repair it, and eventually the world lost contact all together. It was why she was employed as a message runner.

  Once again researchers across the globe could share information in real time. Trade deals could be forged in minutes rather than months, the parties no longer needing to wait for ships to deliver their correspondence.

  She knew all of this, and perhaps would have been more excited about the possibilities and the changes it would mean for the world, if it was any other day. But today Magnus’ revelation was the straw that broke the camel’s back of her overloaded mind.

  Too many things happened today, and she no longer had the mental capacity to process them all.

  Seeming to realise this, Magnus helped her finish packing, snagging her duffel bag over his shoulder - a move she quickly argued against until he pointedly looked at her leg, and reminded her that she wasn’t even meant to be walking around.

  Ira begrudgingly conceded and insisted they grab a rickshaw back to the barge, a fact that confirmed just how sore her knee had become in the last few hours. She never took a rickshaw if she could avoid it. All of the drivers were on Pete’s payroll, and Ira didn’t feel the need to have him filled in on any more details of her daily life than he already was.

  Magnus set her up in the same room she awoke in earlier that day. So much had happened since then, she could hardly believe she was gratefully returning to the very bed she was handcuffed to only hours earlier.

  As exhausted as she was, she felt so sure that she would pass out the minute her head hit the pillow. Unfortunately her body had other plans, and the seconds turned to minutes as she lay there with her eyes open. The moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was the look on Bill’s face. The anguish and anger that were frozen in eternity.

  Ira suddenly realised she would need to deal with their bodies. Did Magnus called the City Guard? Had Bill and Clarisse been moved? Where were they now? Were they in some dark and cold basement?

  They had been paralyzed by that drug, what if they hadn’t been dead? Had she missed her last chance to say goodbye because she was too caught up in her own anger to check for the vestiges of a last pulse?

  A corner of her mind tried to remind her that the blood around their bodies had coagulated, and cooled. Ira didn’t need to touch them to know that death had taken them. She recognised the signs.

  But as she lay there in the dark, all she could only see was Bill’s outstretched hand as he desperately reached for his beloved Clarisse.

  She rose and dressed.

  She hadn’t slept, but she needed to move. There was so much to do. She couldn’t waste time. Every moment they waited was a step the murderer got further away. Ira could feel it tearing her up inside.

  Strapping her weapons to her body she opened the door and made her way down the dark corridor. She was so focused on her task, so desperate to escape this suffocating boat, that she barely noticed the light streaming from the open door.

  ***

  Magnus barely heard Ira move as she padded down the hall on quiet feet. She moved with an ease that spoke of many years spent hunting in the forest, even with her injury. Her soft steps now second nature.

  He was sitting at his desk reading his team’s reports on the day’s activities. They had eyes on half a dozen of the city’s merchants, and he had the unenviable task of reviewing his spies’ accounts on the tedious daily lives of these wealthy men. So far the most interesting moment was when someone’s wife found him in a compromising position with another woman, and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Magnus laughed out loud when he read the transcript. He’d never heard such colourful insults.

  If it hadn't been for the soft click of her cabin door closing, Ira may have passed right by unnoticed.

  He moved to greet her at the door, and saw that she was dressed for war. Eyes barely seeing, so devoted to her course of action, he knew Ira didn’t even see him standing there.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She jumped, hands moving to the knives at her waist.

  “I need to do something.” She bounced
on her feet, the picture of restless agitation. “I need to go back to the cottage and move their bodies. They can’t stay like that. I need to contact the Citadel. Maybe they will take them to the morgue.”

  “They’re not there anymore Ira,” He said, trying to calm her down. “My team contacted the necessary departments earlier today. It’s all been handled.”

  “Maybe I can go back to the cottage, see it again with fresh eyes. I probably missed something the first time.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He paused to watch the anxiety drain from her face before continuing. “Tomorrow we will go with a team.”

  Ira’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “I’m not one of your foot soldiers that you can order around Magnus. I’m going to the cottage now. It can't wait until tomorrow.”

  “It can, and it will. You promised not to force my team to split up, and if we leave now, no matter what I tell them, I can guarantee at least two of my men will follow us, leaving the remaining four more vulnerable.”

  “So don’t come with me. You stay, and so will your men. Problem solved.”

  “Ah but if you go without me, I’ll just follow. And then not only will we all be out traipsing around Valverna on the path of a crazy murderer who, should I remind you, has already killed twenty-two people, but we will be doing so alone, with you ahead on your bung up knee, and our only back-up sneaking a few blocks behind us trying to lay low in the shadows.”

  He arched a brow at her in a way he knew would drive her mad. “Solid plan Ira. How else would you like to get us all killed today?”

  She fisted her hands, eyes spitting with fury, and growled through clenched teeth, “I am not staying here. So do me and your men a favour and stay safely tucked in your bed where no harm can come to you, but I’m not staying here.”

  “Fine.” He smiled mischievously at her. “But only if you tuck me in first.”

  That comment caught her off guard, and he chuckled at the surprised and slightly embarrassed look that swept across her face.

  “Come on Ira, join me for a drink first. If you are still desperate to run out into the night afterwards we can argue about it again.” When she remained reluctant he opened the door wider and gestured for her to precede him. “I’ll even answer some of the questions I know you are burning to ask.” He smirked at her. “After all it may be your only chance, as you will most likely be dead in the morning.”

  That earned him a glower, and he chuckled again.

  Clearly deciding to take advantage of his offer, but not wishing to concede defeat in this battle of the wills, she swaggered through the door and flopped casually into one of his chairs as though she was right at home. Magnus found that he quite liked it. He wanted her comfortable in his space.

  "What's your poison?" Magnus stood before his liquor cabinet, a selection of foreign beer and wines, as well as a few spirits, laid out before him.

  He wasn't much of a drinker himself, but he knew the social and business value of having drinks on hand, and had been taught to showcase good breeding and education, not to mention wealth, through his drink selection.

  He thought that lesson had been more for his tutor's enjoyment than his own, sipping various drinks to learn the different talking points of each. But it stayed with him, and here he was now, in a barge of all things, on the banks of Valverna, carrying a selection of alcohol so valuable that it could feed a whole village for a month.

  Her silence caused him to look back only to see that her face had turned ashen. Confused at what had caused the change he realised what he had just said and cursed his word choice. “Wine? Beer?” he asked, hoping to draw her attention back to him.

  "I'll take rye if you have it,” she said with a slight shake of her head as though clearing her mind.

  He noticed that she was fiddling distractedly with a chain around her neck. It was something she had done throughout the day. He wondered who had given her that necklace that she cherished so closely.

  “Who were the others?” Ira demanded suddenly.

  Magnus understood Ira’s burning desire to take action, having experienced it many times himself. The confusing combination of urgency and helplessness that overcame you in the throes of grief. She needed to know who else had been killed to try to make sense of why her guardians were targeted.

  Conceding to her request, Magnus pulled two photographs and a sheet of paper from his desk. The first image was of a petite blond with horn rimmed spectacles and wearing a lab coat, while the second was of a large man with finely cropped hair in a dark suit. Both photos were retrieved from the victims employers, rather than being personal images.

  Handing Ira the images Magnus read aloud, “Maureen Pierce. Found murdered three weeks ago in a park by the City Guard at dawn. Death was poison, like the others, and she suffered major trauma prior to her death. ”

  He looked up to see surprise written on Ira’s face as he continued, she clearly hadn’t expected him to submit to her request so easily, even though he promised her answers.

  “We know Maureen was a microbiologist who made good money, since her apartment and lab were in the penthouse of one of Valverna’s newer high rises. We spoke briefly with one of her colleagues, but nobody really could tell us much about her, or had any idea why she would be targeted. Sounds like the woman was a bit of a hermit, kept to herself mostly.”

  Flipping the page he continued. “Second is David Francis. Found a few days before Maureen in an alley around midnight. David was a contract merc who mostly did bodyguard detail these days. His landlord said David had no family or friends. Apparently he worked a lot and paid his bills on time. Landlord couldn’t really tell us much else.”

  “That’s all we’ve got? Two loners found dead around the city and no leads?” The defeat in Ira’s voice pulled at Magnus’ heart in an unexpected way.

  “We may be able to learn more if we can speak to someone who knew them. So far the only people we have spoken to have been either tight lipped, or just plain unhelpful.”

  Ira thought for a moment then ventured softly, “I may be able to help you there.”

  Magnus turned to her with a question in his eyes. Whatever she was suggesting made her uncomfortable. Very subtly, she moved to shield herself, her body curving protectively around her core. If Magnus hadn’t been watching so closely he would have missed it.

  This idea picked at an old hurt, and Magnus desperately wanted to know who was responsible, but he waited her out. He didn’t want to accidentally push her into changing her mind.

  “I know someone who knows absolutely everything that goes on in this city,” she finally offered. “But his info won’t come free.”

  “Do you trust him?” Magnus didn’t care if she trusted him. Part of him wanted to know the person just so he could beat them for putting that bruised look in her eyes.

  Ira thought for a moment as she bobbed her head from side to side, “Yes and no. I don’t think he’d stick his neck on the line for me, but I trust his intel. He knows his stuff.”

  “Well then, let’s bring him in.” Magnus was looking forward to the chat he would have with this friend of Ira’s.

  ***

  Ira wasn’t sure why she felt as though she had just served Pete up for dinner. She didn’t know what had put the feral gleam in Magnus’ eye, but it promised a less than warm reception for the snoop, and Ira wasn’t sure what she could say to smooth things over.

  Deciding to take the conversation in a different direction and get those answers Magnus promised, Ira asked, "You're a General?"

  "I am." His responding smile was all masculine smugness as he dipped his head in ascent.

  Ira thought that response was a bit unnecessary, and decided she wanted to take him down a peg or two. "Is the title earned or given?"

  She wasn't sure if she was trying to insult him or not, but his booming laugh in response to her snide question made her laugh in return.

  "Can it not be both?"

  She cocked a brow at him, "I
'm not sure, can it?"

  "Well, I'd like to think that my men would say I have earned the title I was given. But I suppose you would have to ask them."

  "And what is it exactly that you and your men do? There do seem to be an awful lot of men around you. Don't like to work with women?"

  He smiled a cat’s smile, "Not at all, I work with many women. You just haven’t met them yet."

  Ira wasn't sure what that meant and was irritated to find her stomach twist in a pinch of jealousy. How ridiculous.

  “So are you traders or mercenaries?” she asked, trying to take her mind off the image of Magnus with other women.

  He cocked a brow and gave a small shrug. “I like to think that we are procurers of unique goods.”

  “For hire?” She clarified.

  “Isn’t everyone?” He asked condescendingly.

  She moved to switch over her crossed legs, distracted by her embarrassment at her reaction to him, forgetting that her knee was freshly dislocated. She hissed through her teeth when pain laced through her leg, quickly readjusting.

  Magnus frowned at her in concern. "You need more of the ointment."

  Ira huffed a laugh. "It's a dislocated knee, not a burn. Ointment won't be able to help me much. The only thing for this is time."

  He looked at her curiously, “Have you not noticed the oitnment’s effect on your knee?"

  Ira looked at her leg, thinking back to the warming sensation she felt when Lee applied the cream. It eased the pain instantly, but more than that, she had been able to use the leg almost normally ever since. As though her injury was weeks rather than days old.

  “Is it a pain killer?” she asked, suddenly curious. She would certainly take more of that.

  “Not exactly,” he said mysteriously.

  When he didn’t immediately continue, Ira grimaced at him and he smirked in return before responding, “There are people who believe that there is a certain power in the Earth. Something that is new, or returning.”

  Now Ira was truly confused. “What are you talking about?”