by Drae Box
Raneth nodded. That’s probably true, he thought, before ploughing down the side of the hospital and the park. A street light flickered on in front of Raneth, revealing the entrance to a small stable.
“Right at the stable. Right next to it.”
The Bayre swept past the stables and slowed between the back of the hospital and a building two or three times larger than the stables beside it, and much taller; its yellow bricks indicated that it was one of the newer buildings too. Raneth prowled to the door and grabbed the handle. He twisted it and pushed it open. He stepped into the dark waiting area and frowned, listening.
Over the beat of his own heart and the soft breaths escaping his lips, Raneth could hear the breathing of someone who wasn’t trained to quieten their breaths. The harsh breathing tickled Raneth’s ears as he slowly strode towards the source of the sound – the reception desk against the wall opposite him.
“Come out,” he warned gently. He rested his sword against the unusually tall desk’s surface, used to protect the royal detective on desk duty from any unexpected close contact with visitors to the building. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a royal official.”
A woman peeked out at him from behind the desk. “Liar,” she snarled. “You’re a Brethren!”
Raneth glanced down at the Brethren jacket he was still wearing over the Guardsman’s jacket. He stepped back from the desk and his sword and pulled both jackets off.
“I borrowed them to blend in,” he explained.
The woman stood up behind the desk. She wasn’t much taller than Aldora, and she had the same dark brown hair swept into a bun at the back of her head. Her brown eyes rested under a wary frown as she watched Raneth.
“Here,” he offered, pulling his royal official identification tags from around his neck and holding them out to her. She snatched them from his hands.
Rider stepped inside and shoved the Rivermud onto the ground, a hand holding onto the man’s long hair. “Don’t move,” he warned. The Rivermud stayed still.
Raneth took back his tags as they were offered to him and returned them to his neck. “I’m–”
“The royal official captain. Your tags said so,” stated the royal detective. “I’m Royal Constable Marcia Voy, Captain.”
Marcia dipped her hand into her royal blue suit jacket and pulled free a black wallet. She held it out to Raneth; he took it and flipped it open. In one half of the wallet was a picture of the woman’s face and her royal detective information, and the other side had a silver badge shaped like the Kingdom’s Shield with Giften’s three rings engraved into it. He nodded and handed it back.
“So,” she asked, “what do you need?”
“We need information out of this man, and not to lose him. Can we do that here and can we trust you to help us?”
The royal detective went onto tiptoe to view the Rivermud by Rider’s feet. “Yes. Take him through that doorway there and I’ll grab a cell key for you.”
Raneth watched as Rider dragged the Rivermud onto his feet and pulled him towards the gaping doorway to the right of the reception room, at the back. He turned to the royal constable and saw her rummaging behind the protective screen of the desk. Raneth picked up his borrowed sword and sheathed it at his side.
“You can call me Raneth,” he said gently. “Have any other royal detectives been in the village since the change in power?”
“No, just me and Liera – another from Green. We came over before it happened. We didn’t have anywhere else to go and we weren’t sure after all those murdered royal officials if royal detectives would be targeted next. Liera’s out looking for food for us. You’re welcome to have some if you need it, Raneth.”
“We’re alright for now, but thank you.”
She nodded. “So what did you need that Brethren for?”
“We need to use him to find the location of the Kingdom’s Shield, and maybe a few other bits and pieces to help us restore King Cray.”
The constable nodded. “Alright. I can help with that, but it’s getting late.” She looked at the darkness beyond the reception windows. “We have an attic here. You and the other royal official can sleep up there – it’s where we have our cots, and not many know that the RD HQs have them. You’ll be safe.”
Raneth smiled as he gave a nod. “Thanks.”
Marcia nodded. “I’ll go and give this to your friend,” she said as she swiped a key from its hiding spot on the other side of the desk. “Head upstairs, Captain. I’ll send your friend up in a moment.” She pointed to a staircase with a sign beside it that read ‘Staff Only’.
The Bayre strode up the wooden stairs, at the top of which was a blue door. He pushed against it, surprised that it had no lock or handle, and stepped inside. A low whistle of wind greeted him as the door swung shut; the breeze came in from a loose tile somewhere overhead in the arched rafters. The room itself was fairly dark, lit only by light from a distant fire and the moon that came through a window facing north beside the door. Raneth prowled inside, stepping past two simple metal-framed beds with the most basic of mattresses; they looked more like hard cardboard than a comfortable spot to sleep. I didn’t know royal detectives were given such rubbish cots when working nights. The last time Raneth had seen a bed less comfortable than the wooden floor he stood on was in the Royal Southern Army’s main base, where every bed folded away into the walls of the dormitories to give the men space to work out and improve their physiques.
The room held eight beds in total, enough for two units of royal detectives, no matter their ranks. Propped up against one wall was a bookshelf, half empty; one of its shelves held nothing but stacks of paper, and the rest of its contents were books. All fiction. Raneth grabbed the back of a dark wooden chair propped up beside the window and turned it to face the window, then dusted the seat with a hand before sitting down. There was another opposite him on the other side of the window, so he hooked his foot around the leg and pulled it to face him. That one also had dust covering it. They must not need this area much, he decided.
The door swung open and Rider stepped inside. He claimed the other seat and smiled at Raneth. “Someone’s got to be having a nice barbecue.”
“I just hope it’s not somebody’s home,” replied Raneth, as he looked towards the fire that was giving them most of the light they were seeing by. He watched the black smoke swirling above it, mottling the night sky, then he looked at Rider.
“How are we going to get Shai Rivermud to talk?” asked Rider.
Oh, so that’s his name. “It’s not our job,” stated Raneth. “Thankfully, it’s Marcia’s. One of us should probably sit in with her when she speaks to him in the interrogation, for her safety.”
“That should probably be you,” said Rider. “You know the Rivermuds better than me.”
Says the man who knew this one’s name, thought Raneth with a small smile playing at his lips.
“And Broken Crown are less likely to look for you here, in a royal detective headquarters. As the better known of the two of us – heck, as basically a Giften celebrity – it’ll do you good to stay here, out of sight, whilst I keep working.”
“You make a good point,” agreed Raneth, inwardly cringing at Rider’s calling him a celebrity. Royal officials weren’t not to supposed to draw that much attention.
“I can check in with the resistance tomorrow, if you want, or run into Broken Crown’s headquarters and take out Denzel. Which would you prefer?” asked Rider.
Raneth frowned at his friend. How long does he think it will take to get Shai to talk?
“Don’t go near Denzel on your own. Enos went back undercover, didn’t he?”
Rider nodded. “Goodness knows how long he can keep that up.”
“He’s a good royal official. Works hard and keeps himself in check,” confessed Raneth, thinking about the first time he had met Enos during a mandatory month at the First Legion’s camp when Enos had graduated. “He got himself turned into an optio pretty fast – in the ye
ar he joined the First Legion, we had a huge scuffle at the east border in the Southern Kingdom where our unit was assigned. Enos nearly sacrificed himself dragging me back from the Eastern Barbarians. I was holding them back at a small break using my gift, giving my unit time to regroup after being attacked by the Barbarian’s trained wolves.”
“I’m sure my dad was happy about that.”
Raneth watched Rider grin proudly. He was the favoured son of his legion’s legate, and Raneth wasn’t always sure what exactly he could get away with talking about with Rider when it came to his experiences with his unit. He opted to give him a noncommittal shrug.
“Have you ever held the Shotput of Power without gloves?” asked Rider after they shared a moment of quiet.
“Yeah, why?”
“Did it do anything when you held it?”
Raneth rubbed at his bandage and nodded. “Yeah, it grew these two wings of fire that curled round my wrist. I let go pretty quick but it didn’t hurt me.”
“It’s chosen you,” explained Rider. “After your girl became the first Weapon of Protection Bearer we’ve had for a century, I looked into that one and the original six villages. I was worried it would give an idiot the idea to commit crime.”
That doesn’t sound like Rider. He doesn’t usually think ahead unless it’s about finding supplies for an assignment or impressing his Dad. “And?”
“The Shotput’s abilities weren’t as heavily documented as some of the others, except for its ability to kill in a large area without discrimination. Something worth noting is that, unlike the others, the Shotput of Power Bearer was usually chosen by the Shotput, rather than its being given to someone. It’s pickier than the others about its users.” Rider lifted a hand and curled his fingers slightly, as if holding the Shotput. “Do this and think of the Shotput being in your hand.”
“Why?”
“One book I read said it could be summoned by those it’s chosen. Getting it out of Broken Crown’s hands seems like something we might be able to do right now. Then we just have to find the Shield and the Dagger.”
Raneth lifted his hand and thought of the smooth silver surface of the Shotput of Power, and the flames it had wrapped around his wrist. He imagined its cool surface pressed against his fingers then looked at Rider. “Nothing’s happening.”
Rider shrugged. “Worth a try. Must have screwed it up somehow. Maybe there was an incantation I skipped over or something.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aldora
Lying on the bed, Aldora held a romance story in her hands. She looked up as the door opened and the Brethren, Dashiell, stepped into the room.
“You could knock first, you know,” she growled. “I could have been naked.” She quickly shut her book and put her forearm over a small pencil she had used to draw some of the layout of Broken Crown’s headquarters on page fifty-five.
“All the more reason to keep entering unannounced,” stated Dashiell.
He smirked and stepped deeper into the room. Aldora observed two others squeeze in and stand beside him, recognising one as Adharma. Neither wore Brethren or Guardsmen’s jackets, but instead they wore suits like her uncle. She also noticed that the one she didn’t know held a package to his chest, wrapped in brown paper and white string.
“This is Adharma and Acharya,” stated Dashiell.
“I’ve met Adhar–”
The wall behind them blew inwards with a loud bang.
Aldora rolled off her bed and tucked herself behind it as plaster smashed to the floor. White dust filled the air and wood splinters fell to the floor. She looked up as something round smashed through the wall beside her, blowing debris from the wall into the street below. She pressed her arm to her mouth and tried not to breathe in the dust, but still found herself coughing. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her out into the corridor. She allowed Dashiell to pull her further down the corridor, away from the dust, as Adharma and Acharya followed.
“What did you do?” he snarled.
“Me? I was reading! You’re the ones who entered my room. Whatever that was, it must have been following you.” Aldora tried hard not to let the corners of her mouth rise in a smile. Hello, Shotput. Nice power you have there. She folded her arms and glared up at Dashiell. “It was probably one of your lot with a fireball or something.” Behind Dashiell, she spotted two Brethren running towards them. “Them two, maybe.”
Dashiell turned around and shook his head. “I doubt it. Wrong direction.”
“Hey, we heard explosions,” stated one of the Brethren as they stopped by the small group.
“Something just smashed through the Dagger Bearer’s room and out of the building,” stated Adharma. “See to it that you secure the room. Cover those holes up so there’s no draft and Aldora can still sleep in there tonight, then get a few of the Guardsmen to clean it up and change the bedding.”
“Yes, sir.”
Aldora watched the two Brethren stroll away and resisted the urge to smile again. The Shotput doing what it did suggests somebody who’s been close to it made it do that, and it wasn’t me. Raneth’s the only other living person who’s had anything to do with it recently.
Adharma turned to Dashiell. “I think you should go and oversee them. Aldora will be safe with me and Acharya.”
Dashiell glanced at Aldora, before giving a huff and a shrug. “Fine, sir.”
“Aldora, let’s go somewhere quiet to talk,” said Acharya, giving her a warm smile. “We wanted to take a little time to introduce ourselves, but after what just happened, I suspect your room is going to be a little busy. How about the library? I’ve heard you grabbed a novel from there earlier.”
Aldora nodded.
Once they were in the library, the two men waited for Aldora to pick a table before sitting down opposite her. Acharya set his wrapped parcel on the table in front of him.
“You’ve met Koyla?” asked Adharma, running a carbantic hand over his body in an attempt to dust some of the white plaster dust from his clothes.
“Yes,” said Aldora. She folded her arms on the table. “Why?”
“Did he explain that he’s one of the founders of Broken Crown? That your uncle came up with the idea and the overall plan, and that he brought his three closest friends in to help him achieve it? We’re the other two friends.”
“No,” confirmed Aldora. What do these two really want with me? Why go to the bother of introducing themselves?
“I’m the one who deals with hostages, negotiations and executions,” explained Adharma. “Which means that, for the most part, any royal officials captured alive, any soldiers and anyone who is found to be working against Broken Crown are brought to me. If they cannot be persuaded to join our cause then they are used as hostages to force others to do what we need–”
“Such as handing over the Kingdom’s Shield?”
“Yes.” Adharma gave a nod. “Or executed so they can’t pose a threat to the new Giften that Denzel is gifting us all with.”
“There wasn’t anything wrong with the old one,” stated Aldora. “The only people who want this are you and my uncle.”
“For the record, I know what your father has been saying, and neither of us are criminals,” stated Acharya. “Or we weren’t until Broken Crown seized the kingdom, anyway. I tend to the logistics – moving things around and making sure we have everything we need. Weapons, uniforms, storage facilities and the like.” He patted the parcel. “Like this.”
Aldora spared the parcel a glance. “Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to threaten me with your hostage talk,” she stated with a gesture at Adharma, “and I don’t understand why you’d think I care about the logistics of Broken Crown–”
“We’re offering to make sure you’re comfortable,” interrupted Acharya. “I can get you anything you ask for, and Adharma will make sure you never have to see Raneth’s death. Isn’t that a good trade?”
“In return for what?” asked Aldora suspiciously. Just because
they’re saying I won’t see Raneth’s death doesn’t mean they won’t kill him if they get their hands on him. She looked at her left arm as she thought of the burned sleeve Raneth had gained in the fight before his supposed escape.
“In return for your unwavering loyalty to your uncle,” stated Adharma.
“This is for you,” added Acharya, pushing the parcel a little closer to Aldora.
The Dagger Bearer inspected the parcel more closely. A bribe? As she rested her hands on the brown wrapping paper, she was reminded of her last birthday, when Raneth had given her a present wrapped in the same paper. It had been a silver knife, and she remembered the soppy inscription on the expensive but useable blade. That knife would be handy right about now. Maybe I can use whatever this is against them.
She untied the string holding the parcel together and unfolded the wrappings. Or not. She stood up as her hands slid over the black material she had revealed. Lifting the Brethren jacket up in front of her and turning to the side of the table so it could extend fully, Aldora frowned. She turned to Adharma and Acharya. “This is what you wanted to give me? A Brethren jacket? Are you two out of your Giften-sodding minds?”
“You get protection and whatever you want, if you wear this and declare your loyalty to Broken Crown in front of a news reporter, and officially give Denzel the Dagger in front of them,” explained Adharma.
Aldora frowned. “Whatever I want?”
“Within reason. We’ll still aim to kill the captain so don’t bother asking about sparing him.”
Is there any way I can trick them to leave Raneth alone?
“Who’s the news reporter?” Maybe the reporter could help her.
“Celia Gwen, if I remember correctly. The Giften Daily reporter,” added Acharya. “It will show everyone you’re with Broken Crown and it’ll make Denzel a proud of you. He desper–”
Adharma nudged Acharya with his elbow. “Maybe don’t tell her that.”
Aldora dumped the jacket on the floor. “I’m not wearing that. I can’t. Just like I’m not going to give him the Dagger in some pomped-up ceremony. It’s not mine to give.”