Dark Paths

by Markus Heitz

  ‘One day you won’t wake up because he will have killed you,’ whispered Acòrhia, spitting out blood and phlegm. ‘You idiot! You weakling! You deserve death. I hope he spares me.’

  And now the bricks are starting to fall out of their wall of silence. Aïsolon was relieved. He was starting to get information that would bring him closer to the ring leader. She’ll be the only one to hold out, I reckon. The door opened quietly and the other five witnesses were ushered in without Acòrhia or Wènelon noticing. Excellent. ‘So, Wènelon, tell us exactly what happened.’

  ‘We arrived at Sémaina’s and the evening began pleasantly enough. Then Sisaroth turned up and insulted our hostess. She laughed at first and took it as a joke . . .’

  Aïsolon raised his hand. ‘It’s the truth I want. Not the version you trumped up between yourselves.’

  ‘But that is what happened,’ Wènelon insisted. ‘They wrangled. It was harmless, really. Sisaroth was chucked out and his shirt got torn. And he dropped a talisman his sister had once given him. That was used in evidence against them both because you as their father would recognise the objects.’

  Malicious pack of scoundrels. Cleverly done. He picked up the fragment of tooth again. ‘Go on. Go on!’ He was on tenterhooks. It was important, all of this, but he wanted to get to the heart of the matter, and find out who was behind it. Who could have plotted this so thoroughly?

  ‘Everything had settled down but then a masked figure jumped down into the room. He must have been waiting in the shadows all that time. He stabbed Sémaina several times. It all happened so quickly. We were taken by surprise . . . and we had all been drinking. He threw a bag over to Acòrhia – tionium coins, as it turned out. Then he ran out of the room to kill the rest of the family.’ He pointed to the story-teller. ‘She told us we would all get fifty coins if we stuck to her version of events.’

  ‘It was the coins and lifelong silence or death. That was what I said,’ Acòrhia corrected him. ‘You made your choice. Not just for you but for the others involved. We all had to keep quiet or we would all be killed.’ She spat out a ball of bloody saliva.

  Aïsolon watched the horrified faces of the other five captives and knew Wènelon and Acòrhia had been telling the truth. The others will want to pretend they had no choice in the matter. ‘The assassin gave you the money,’ he said to Acòrhia. ‘You already had the story prepared. You must have met with him beforehand. Were you in on the arrangement?’

  ‘He was in disguise,’ stammered Acòrhia. The blows to the face she had received prevented her from speaking clearly. ‘So I can’t describe him. He didn’t tell me his name. And he spoke in a whisper so I wouldn’t be able to recognise his voice.’ She leaned against the chair.

  Aïsolon believed her now. Her eyes had lost the fire of resistance. She had given up on hearing Wènelon’s confession. ‘And then?’

  ‘He told me he had measures in hand in case my version of events was doubted.’

  Aïsolon felt a stab to the heart. ‘What were those measures?’

  ‘He said there was a trained killer in Dsôn who would do his bidding.’

  A cold shiver went down his spine. So it’s not over yet. ‘And who is the hit man? Did he give any clue?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘He didn’t say. What kind of a plot would that have been if he told me the details?’

  ‘And Sémaina’s murder? Did he indicate there was a conspiracy aimed at my children?’

  ‘Only that the murder was to take place and that there was a greater cause behind it. “The killing will provoke great things,” he said. He sounded odd. Confused.’

  ‘Yet you still took him up on it and did what he demanded?’

  Acòrhia stared at Aïsolon in amazement. ‘Of course. He was offering me money or death. What should I have done? Come knocking at your door claiming a masked älf had threatened me? I know exactly what you would have done: you would have laughed me to scorn and told me I was starting to believe my own tall tales.’

  ‘Hardly, in those circumstances.’ What is the way forward here? How do I discover the killer and find out who is really the mastermind of the whole conspiracy? Aïsolon quickly planned a strategy. The First Sytràp would start a search for Virssagòn’s trainees. Those that remained would be thoroughly interrogated. This should lead him to the killer, and the instigators would soon follow.

  In the meantime I will keep an ear to the ground for rumours regarding any enemies Sémaina and her family may have had. I can’t afford to discount other possibilities: potential feuds between other influential families in Dsôn. Aïsolon did not need to carry out investigations to tell him that Sisaroth had not been one of the dead woman’s greatest admirers. Certainly not after her malicious slandering of his mother. Every Dsôn citizen knew about this and it could easily be used to divert attention from the truth. But what was the truth? He raised his head and confronted the seven false witnesses. I fell for it and I brought nothing but suffering to my own family and to my former partner. ‘I take note of Wènelon’s confession and assume that he is telling the truth.’

  They all, with the exception of the story-weaver, nodded. She stared down at the bloodstains on her clothes and the dark drops forming on the floor in front of her.

  ‘But the false evidence you gave and the items you planted at the scene of the crime caused the unjustified banishment of my children Sisaroth and Firûsha to Phondrasôn. You are responsible for this.’ Aïsolon saw flashes of indignation cross several faces but none of them dared contradict or beg for mercy. ‘And because you also closed your eyes to the matter of a murder, your silence allowed other killings to take place, therefore doubling the guilt you bear. Do I hear any suggestions for restitution?’

  Acòrhia gave a weak attempt at laughter. ‘Tell us what you have come up with,’ she said slowly and indistinctly. ‘And then tell us how you are going to present this to the rest of the city. It will attract a certain amount of attention if seven celebrities suddenly disappear, notably following these other deaths.’

  She is cunning. ‘I have come up with a scheme that gives you the opportunity to remain part of society’s elite with your reputations intact,’ he announced generously. ‘I shall give you a potion to drink that will do away with you within a division of unendingness.’

  The accused groaned and whispered amongst themselves. One of them rushed forward in indignation but Gàlaidon stopped him by slamming a fist into his belly so that he doubled up, gasping.

  ‘But . . . Governor!’ stuttered Wènelon. ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘Wait. I’m not done,’ said Aïsolon, fetching seven glass leather-encased phials out of his desk drawer. He held one carefully between his thumb and forefinger. ‘This contains a remedy which will slow down the decay to your vital organs. But it will not overturn the process. The only full and effective antidote is in my possession and I shall take it with me to the top of the defence wall to wait for you.’

  Wènelon looked round at his friends and then back at the governor. ‘I don’t understand. Are we supposed to have a race up the mountainside to see who gets there first?’

  ‘Think about it,’ Acòrhia grunted. ‘He wants to send us to Phondrasôn to fetch his children home.’

  Yes, she is shrewd. She will be the one that succeeds. Aïsolon raised his arm in acknowledgement. ‘She is correct. One of you will be granted life in return for bringing back my children. If you manage to do that, the antidote will be yours and there will be no further word spoken about your misdeeds. You will be free. You will remain one of Dsôn’s respected elite and part of the entourage that proceeds to Tark Draan to greet the Inextinguishables. So do your best.’

  Their horror at the prospect stood engraved on their features for all to see.

  ‘Phondrasôn and a lethal medicine in our bloodstream,’ said Wènelon in chilly tones. ‘What could be worse?’

  ‘It should stop any monsters from wanting to eat you. They’ll pick up the smell of the poison in
your veins,’ replied Aïsolon with a malicious grin. The guards and Gàlaidon laughed. The governor pointed at the door. ‘There you have my decision. You will be sent over the wall tonight. You will be given equipment and,’ he said, tapping the phials, ‘your important medication. Take a thimbleful as soon as your skin starts to crawl and itch. Don’t delay or it will shrivel and fall off and your flesh will decay. The gods of infamy may . . .’

  ‘And my family?’ objected Wènelon. ‘What do I tell them about being sent to Phondrasôn?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’ Aïsolon leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. ‘Before you leave, you will each write a message stating that the governor has asked you to help him formulate a plan for the future of Dsôn Sòmran. You are on a secret mission to find out how to reach the Inextinguishables. It will take as long as it needs to. You will also write additional missives that we will send in the future: I’m fine. We are making progress. I’m looking forward to seeing you all again soon. There will be a new start for Dsôn. Believe me, the city will be at your feet in gratitude.’ His voice became sharp with sarcasm. ‘Now get out, you despicable cowards. Bring back my children. Or die in Phondrasôn.’

  The guards shoved the condemned group out the door. The phials were collected. Acòrhia dragged herself to the entrance, too weak to walk.

  Aïsolon was alone with his first deputy, and despite the pain at his loss and his fury at the conspirators, he felt a certain satisfaction at what he had achieved. He could not think of anything more he could do for his children.

  He had thought carefully whether to broadcast the truth about Sémaina’s death and drum up a volunteer troop to go in search of his children. But there aren’t enough of us. We need every single able-bodied älf for Dsôn’s defence. He was also reluctant to make the seven witnesses’ immediate families suffer. Not to mention the killer would strike again and cause more distress still. ‘If I could go to Phondrasôn myself to bring them back, I would,’ he muttered.

  Gàlaidon jammed the thumb of his right hand into his leather belt. ‘I understand how you feel. But I think the seven have good motivation for their task.’

  ‘They are no warriors.’

  ‘They haven’t even been sent over the wall yet, and already you are doubting your decision?’ The blond älf gave him a questioning look. ‘It was a good idea and it’s the best you could do in the circumstances. We need all our guards and warriors here on the defences. We can’t spare a single one.’

  ‘I know,’ said Aïsolon. Was my decision really right?

  ‘Do you want me to go along with them?’ Gàlaidon offered. ‘I can see you don’t really trust them.’

  ‘Send you to Phondrasôn?’ he took his booted feet off the desk and sat up in his chair. ‘That would be just as much of a waste as sending my children was,’ he muttered. ‘You are needed here. It’s me that should go.’

  ‘But that’s impossible. You are much more important than I am.’ Gàlaidon completed Aïsolon’s thoughts. ‘I am honoured that you think highly of me, but the älfar need their heroes – the ones that founded the city for them and protected them after the destruction of their original homeland. You make the people feel safe. I am nothing but your assistant and I respect you just as they do. Without you, Dsôn Sòmran would be in peril.’ Gàlaidon came around the desk and clapped his superior on the shoulder. ‘Acòrhia has left you her souvenir piece of tooth, I see.’

  ‘What would she do with it? She can’t plant it back in.’

  ‘No, but it would make a nice piece of jewellery set into a ring.’

  Aïsolon was sunk in thought. ‘Have you heard anything at all that would give us a hint about Sémaina’s killing? Heard any rumours? Any long-standing feud with other powerful members of our community?’

  ‘No. Sémaina was a fool, but generally well liked – apart from by Sisaroth, of course. What was the phrase Acòrhia said the ringleader used? The killing will provoke great things.’ Gàlaidon looked lost for an answer. ‘At first I thought it implied a rebellion, but that – excuse the thought – would have meant doing away with you. Why kill some overestimated singer and her family? What was the point? I don’t have any idea what kind of greatness is supposed to arise in Dsôn as a result of this.’

  He’s doing his best to calm me down. Aïsolon laughed out loud. ‘That’s true. We’ll just have to find the killer.’ There was something that he wanted to ask Gàlaidon about, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

  ‘One? I thought there were two?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Whoever it was that paid Acòrhia was leading her down the garden path, trying to confuse her on purpose. Sémaina’s murderer is the same as Ranôria’s, and he also killed the two älfar in the attic and the ones in the lift cabin.’ Eight murders. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘You’re still convinced it’s a trained assassin?’ The First Sytràp rubbed his lower lip. ‘If that’s the case, it’ll be hard to find him. And we’ll have to be careful not to alert him that we’re on his trail. Who knows what he’d get up to if he suspected?’

  He is one of my best guards. So cautious and wise. ‘That’s why I gave you the task, Gàlaidon. I can always rely on you. You have excellent instincts.’ Aïsolon smiled at Gàlaidon in encouragement.

  ‘My instincts tell me I’ll be spending a lot of time in dusty archives, looking at the old registers of citizens.’ Gàlaidon sighed and smiled. ‘I’ll let you know the instant I find anything unusual.’

  ‘Good. Cèlantra will approach the task of finding our hit man from the other direction. From the scientific perspective.’

  ‘Oh?’ Gàlaidon raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I asked her to examine Ranôria’s body and the other corpses for clues. There might be indications of the weapon used left on the bones.’

  Gàlaidon nodded, impressed. ‘We’re sure to find our killer with that.’ He patted Aïsolon on the shoulders one more time. ‘You see? That’s exactly why we need you here in Dsôn. Your mind takes us along paths no one else would think of.’ He passed the governor’s chair. ‘I’ll get to work. Have you got any documents here that might help?’

  ‘No, only my notes about the seven false witnesses.’ Watch out, assassin. You will soon feel my blade. Aïsolon suddenly remembered what he had wanted to ask as he bundled up his notes to hand to his deputy. ‘Tell me, how long have you had that ring? It’s very unusual. A present from a grateful mistress?’

  ‘Oh, did you notice it? I’d call it more of a parting gift.’

  ‘A broken heart leaves you a nice keepsake?’ Aïsolon was about to turn around when he heard Gàlaidon draw his dagger. The blade touched his throat. ‘Gàlaidon, is this some kind of a joke?’

  ‘No. Virssagòn gave me the ring; I wear it on special occasions,’ said the älf at his back in icy tones. ‘You should know I was his best pupil.’

  Chapter X

  People doubted

  that älfar ruled

  in empires in Tark Draan.

  Suns went up and suns went down

  and never a word from the Inextinguishables.

  Hope dwindled.

  Proud civic spirit faltered;

  a grievous rift appeared.

  The binding rings were broken

  and citizens of every band

  thought only of themselves;

  even the border guards on the wall

  began to think like this.

  When need was at its greatest

  all was turmoil in Dsôn Sòmran.

  Who might bring order?

  Who might close the gap

  that opened in their midst?

  Excerpt from the epic poem Young Gods

  composed by Carmondai, master of word and image

  Phondrasôn, some time after the 5427th division of unendingness.

  In the firelight Tirîgon lay stroking the älf-woman’s magnificent back. The fish she had caught had been tossed aside. They had more urgen
t business than eating.

  Touching her naked skin sent shivers down his spine and there was a burning fire in the centre of his being. Black butterflies danced inside him; his head was as light as a feather. He was in such high spirits that for once he spared not a single thought for his missing siblings.

  The female älf turned to face him, her hair brilliant with silver dust. Her chestnut-brown eyes gazed into his and they were without guile. ‘Let us return, Tirîgon,’ she said, laying a hand on his chest. ‘Let us go back to Dsôn together to enjoy life.’

  He kissed her forearm. ‘We shall.’ Everyone will envy me when I bring her home!

  She relished the tenderness of his caress. She combed back her long black hair with her hand. ‘I have been missing people’s company, conversation and sense of community,’ she said sadly. ‘You remind me of what I’ve been deprived of all this time. The way you are and how you make love to me.’ She gave him a long warm kiss on the lips. ‘I never want to give you up, Tirîgon,’ she whispered devotedly. ‘I want to belong to you alone.’

  ‘I feel the same,’ he murmured hoarsely. And I don’t even know her name. He was full of admiration for her naked body in all its perfection. Her mysterious effect on him had not diminished. I would do anything for her.

  Noting his expression, she smiled and covered herself with the wet fabric of her dress. ‘In that case, let us head for the surface and travel with all speed to Dsôn Sòmran.’

  Before answering, he remembered Firûsha and Sisaroth. He was ashamed to admit he had forgotten his mission in the heat of love. Love could make you blind, indeed. A dangerous emotion. I must try to keep a clear head.

  A warning voice inside him counselled extreme caution: perhaps he was being manipulated by this älf-woman. Maybe she had anticipated this strong response in him. There might be a secret agenda she was pursuing; perhaps getting his support to lift her imposed sentence. He knew nothing about her for certain and there was no way of verifying what she had told him.