The woman they dug up had only been dead a couple of days, but the meat was too far gone for Dagger’s tastes. He preferred it fresher, but Scythe convinced him she could turn it into a good stew. He was willing to try it.
Once the bone was clear, Scythe would set it aside with the others. Later, they would take turns cleaning and reinforcing the bones for the furniture.
“You going to come in or keep staring?” Scythe asked, looking up from the leg.
Dagger tore his eyes away from her own legs. The dress she wore ended just below her knees.
“A message just came,” he said holding the note up.
“Is it an assignment?” she asked, eagerly taking off the gore-covered gloves.
“It is.” He handed over the note. As Scythe read it, Dagger stole a glance at her ankle again.
“By the gods, it’s about time.” She untied the apron and laid it aside. “I’ve never been to an actual wedding before—too crowded.”
“What about our own?” Dagger asked. He wasn’t offended; theirs hadn’t exactly been an enjoyable ceremony. Weddings had been a regular part of his life, though.
“You know what I mean. This is going to be fun.”
“No doubt. We should start packing now. It takes a full day to walk there,” he said.
“Let’s leave early and scout the place out, come up with something grand. People wouldn’t expect anything less at a wedding.” Fire lit in her eyes.
Dagger helped her put the extra meat in the cold box under the kitchen. He had been looking forward to her stew, but it would have to wait.
“Probably nothing too grand, since we are on probation,” he cautioned.
“You’re right. A small fire could get out of hand.”
He hadn’t mentioned a fire at all. She was probably following her own train of thought.
Dagger held the door open from the kitchen cellar for Scythe. She smiled in thanks as she passed by.
“Do you have something formal for the event?” Scythe asked as they walked upstairs.
“I must have something nice stashed away,” he replied. At the moment he was wearing a simple brown workman’s tunic and trousers with a rip in one knee.
“If not, we could get something in the city,” Scythe thought out loud.
“We don’t have any money. Maniodes doesn’t exactly pay us for this work.”
“Coin is just a formality. You think I bought this dress?”
“Actually, I thought you made it,” he admitted.
“Really?” she asked, glancing down at it.
“Dresses usually go to the ankle. They do not come that short.”
“Well, I did alter that bit.” It must have been easy, too. She hadn’t removed much, just a few inches at her ankle. A normal dress always ran the length of her entire body, but Scythe seemed to like the freedom of a slightly shorter hem. Having the ankle exposed gained looks, like she was being inappropriate, but she didn’t have to worry about stepping on the dress.
When they reached the corridor with their chambers, Scythe veered off into her room.
Dagger continued to his own, closer to the bat rookeries, and began packing for the trip. He hung his belt of tools on a sturdy coat rack next to his knives and cloak. The rack was the newest addition to the room, being his own creation of bleached wood. When he’d found the small castle, he’d picked the master bedroom. It was dusty, but he didn’t mind—the room was dry, and no mold had set in. There was a wardrobe to one side of a cold fireplace. A couple of chairs, once tall and majestic pieces, had been draped in red cloth but now were a faded pink, with several rips in the fabric. He intended to replace the fabric with finely stitched human leather, but he hadn’t had the time.
The trip couldn’t be more than two or three days, so he packed an extra tunic and trousers. Then he turned to the formal clothes. There was only one pair of clean trousers, and mostly plain tunics, even less than he’d expected. He tossed the trousers on the bed and rolled the grey tunic into his pack.
“Ready?” Scythe’s voice surprised him. She waited in the doorway by the coat rack.
“Almost,” he said, grabbing the trousers again.
“What are you wearing to the wedding?” She had changed into riding trousers for the trip. No doubt she had packed away something special for the ceremony.
“Just these and a tunic,” he held up the trousers and shrugged. “Keeping it simple.”
“Can I see?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Why?” he asked. He knew how to dress himself for an occasion.
“Partly curiosity, partly to see if we match. We’re going as a couple, so we need to look the part.”
She actually was taking their marriage somewhat seriously even if she was joking. She usually kept her distance, but she was standing inside his chambers for the first time. Dagger took out the tunic and handed it to her. Scythe held it out at arm’s length toward him, probably visualizing him in it.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Good, but boring.”
“Well, it’s the fanciest one I have, so—” he cut himself off, his annoyance rising.
“It’s nice, but do you have a vest?”
“Um, I think so.” Dagger turned back to his wardrobe, which was missing part of its left legs, making it tilt so the clothing fit awkwardly.
Scythe was suddenly by his side, examining the clothing. He stepped aside, letting her pick through his options. His annoyance died. She was trying to help, and she knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.
“This one,” she pulled out a black vest that had been tucked away, forgotten.
Scythe lay the grey tunic on the bed with the vest on top. It was a simple paring but could easily be used for formal occasions. The vest was stitched down the middle to hold it closed, and the silver embroidery was accented by the grey.
“Not boring anymore?” he asked jokingly.
“No, it suits you.” She gave a half-smile. “Keeping it simple.”
That smile made her look devious, but the kindness in her eyes was genuine. He liked that smile on her.
“Alright then.” He gathered the outfit and packed it away. “Are you ready?”
“I am, but I was going to stop at the kitchen for some food.”
“Good idea. I could take your pack to the main gate and meet you there.” He hoisted his own pack onto his shoulder.
“Sure, it’s by my door,” she said. “I’ll meet you outside.”
“Great.” He picked up his belt of daggers and his cloak, following her out of the room.
The wind still tore at his hair as he leaned against the stone column holding up the rusted gate. He had checked for the bat before leaving, but it had gone. Only then did he realize he should have sent a note back to Maniodes. A short one would have been fine, just something to let him know they received the orders. The god might not like being overlooked, but it was too late now.
Dagger didn’t have to wait long for Scythe. It only took her a few moments to gather food. Being dead, they didn’t have to eat, but snacks were always welcome. It was probably more of a habit from their mortal lives. He wondered how long Scythe had been an Incruentus Ferrum. He had never asked.
Watching her stride across the courtyard as she left the estate made him wonder about other things. Her red hair was tied back against the wind, and her red eyes shone in the moonlight, even from this distance. Her riding trousers hid her skin from him, but her black blouse did wonders for her figure.
Her weapon of choice was equally impressive. The long black staff was a foot taller than she was. Dagger had seen the staff up close and knew it wasn’t smooth. A single line spiraled down the length of it for grip as well as decoration. The silver blade at its top curved behind her like a sigil for a queen.
He wanted her. He pushed away from the column, but kept his hands in his pockets, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Luckily, he’d strapped on his own belt of daggers. There were more than enough k
nives to cover his waist.
“Good to go?” he asked as she reached him.
“Aye.” She set the scythe against the stone and picked up her own pack.
He was about to offer to carry it, but she’d already slipped it on. He studied the weapon as she adjusted the pack, focusing on the curve of the blade. The silver was freshly polished.
“You like her?” she asked, half-smiling again, playing with the point of the blade.
“Indeed, I do.” He kept his voice smooth. “Shall I open the tree paths?”
He turned to the dead tree, flipping his choice dagger into his hand. He was about to drive the blade into the tree to open the path until Scythe’s voice stopped him.
“I actually feel like walking,” she said. “I know the trees are faster, but Kaliasma isn’t that far away.”
Dagger straightened, momentarily surprised. The paths the Incruentus Ferrum were able to open were mostly used to move between jobs quickly. Dagger had always seen them as the best perk of being dead. Scythe was right, though; Kaliasma wasn’t too far, and a walk would be nice.
“Good idea,” he said, then added a little sarcasm into his next thought. “It could help us bond as husband and wife.”
Scythe rolled her eyes, but the grin stayed. She started walking down the road away from their new estate, calling, “Well, come on then, dear husband.”
Chapter 6
They had several hours before the sun rose and many more to the city. Dagger and Scythe traveled the well-worn paths through the pine trees alone, chatting about general nonsense. No one alive bothered to travel at this time of night. While they talked, Scythe noticed in midsentence she’d called the estate “home” without noticing it. She hadn’t intended to, but that made the slip more powerful for her. Her own childhood had never been safe, and the cave in Skiachora was comfortable, but it was a cave. Dagger provided walls to call home and never asked pressing questions. She appreciated him for that.
After a couple of hours, the sky in the east changed from deep indigo to several shades of red. They still had a long walk ahead of them.
“We should stop for the day,” Dagger suggested.
“I know of a place not far from here we can go,” Scythe offered.
“Really? Where?”
“If we keep to this road there will be a fork. We take the left instead of the right and keep going for about ten minutes.”
“Alright then,” he said, trusting her.
It felt good to have a man trust her word.
The sky continued to stain red as they took the left fork. The trees eventually dispersed, revealing a rocky graveyard spread over the next two hills. The tombs were old and cracked in the center; some were so worn Scythe couldn’t make out the words. The farther the headstones spread, the newer they looked. There were several mausoleums throughout the area. The small homes for the dead provided the perfect shelter for sleep.
“How did you know this was here?” Dagger asked, walking among the graves.
“I found it by accident.” It had been decades ago. Fifty, maybe sixty years, she wasn’t entirely sure. There were fewer graves then, by the hundreds.
“Scythe?”
“Hm?” She turned to Dagger, avoiding a headstone.
“How long have you been dead?” He watched her carefully, as if the question might offend her.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s been about one hundred years,” she replied, shrugging. “Eight or nine decades at least.”
“Really?! Ichorisis must have been a lot different back then. It would be fascinating to watch things change over time,” Dagger said.
“Not much has changed, actually,” Scythe countered, “but a century might not be long enough to notice. I do remember Chalcis was a fair-sized town. It wasn’t a full-fledged city yet.”
“Do you remember Kaliasma, by chance?” Dagger asked.
“It hasn’t changed much, Pretty boring except for that fire seventy years ago.”
“King Tholus’s Blaze! You were there during that?” he asked excitedly.
“I just watched from the cliffs nearby. I didn’t know that fire had its own name,” Scythe said.
“King Tholus nearly burnt all of the Low End, basically half of the city, thinking it would purify it,” Dagger explained. “He wasn’t exactly sane to start with. So, how old were you when you died?”
“Nineteen, I think. I could have been twenty.”
His questions were getting more personal. Based on his line of thought, he was probably going to ask how she died. That one, she was not going to answer.
To her surprise, Dagger didn’t ask.
“We could camp inside here,” he said, approaching one of the mausoleums.
The stone was crafted well, with hardly any cracks. Plenty of moss covered it, though. In a few more years, the moss would consume the entire structure.
Dagger climbed the single step onto its platform and took out one of his knives. The lock on the door didn’t last long with his knife hilt bashing against it.
He tossed the lock aside and opened the door inward. There wasn’t much space inside, maybe four or five feet between the coffins sitting on thick shelves.
“Cozy,” Dagger commented, dropping his pack in the left corner.
Scythe couldn’t make her feet move. She’d stayed in mausoleums before but never with someone. They had never slept close at all. She liked Dagger, even trusted him to an extent, but her past life had tainted certain things. She always felt him looking, but he gave her space. Would he do the same in this tiny room? She could go to another mausoleum, but she wanted to see what he would do this close. She could always leave if he tried anything. She wasn’t as defenseless as before.
“You alright?” Dagger asked, spreading out his bedroll.
She must have paused longer than she intended. “Fine,” she replied.
Setting her pack in the corner across from Dagger’s, she set up her own bedding. The only light pouring into the small space came from the tiny window in the door.
Dagger noticed as well and covered it by hanging his cloak on a nail stuck in the door. It became pleasantly dark inside. Color drained from Scythe’s vision, replaced by shades of grey and black.
“It’s only a few hours to the city from here, but we shouldn’t sleep too long. Parties usually get going at night, and we should scout the place out first,” Dagger said casually as he stretched out on his bedroll. He tucked his hands under his head and examined the ceiling.
“Mm.” Scythe lay down with her back to a coffin, facing Dagger. She left as much space as she could between them. She didn’t want her back to him. Tonight wouldn’t be very comfortable.
Dagger glanced toward her; confusion shifted in his gaze.
“You alright?” he asked, looking more concerned.
“I’m fine.” She couldn’t close her eyes while he was looking at her. If he was focused on her, she wanted to see what he was doing. She couldn’t look him in the eye, either. Which was new to her. She hated feeling this bloody awkward. She had to remind herself that Dagger hadn’t done anything, that helped a bit, but her past kept interfering and confusing her.
Dagger turned onto his side, facing her. There was still a foot of space between them, but it was too close for her liking. She cursed herself for being foolish. They had been close before but Maniodes had fucked it up.
“Do I intimidate you?” His voice was soft with concern.
Scythe didn’t know how to reply. She wanted to lie, to herself as much as Dagger, but they had promised each other honesty and respect. He promised he wouldn’t touch her, and he hadn’t.
“Not exactly,” she finally gave.
“How so, then? You’ve seen what I can do to people, but you’ve never shied from that. You and I have danced around the edges of flirtation before.”
“It’s not personal.”
“Is it because I’m a man in general, then? Or because there’s an actual marriage now?”
It seemed vague, but it struck home.
“Scythe, were you attacked by a man when you were alive?”
“No, I wasn’t, thankfully. Well, attacked, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. A woman living in the poor end of the city was an easy target, but I was never raped. This…mistrust still led to my death, though.” The words wanted to stick in her throat, but she forced them out.
“Ah.” He stayed quiet, then said, “You can trust me in that regard. I won’t touch you. We can even lay your weapon between us like a barrier.”
“It’s alright. You just stay on your blanket, and I’ll stay on mine.” She was grateful he was willing to keep a distance. He hadn’t changed in that regard. The relief surprised her, but she was able to relax. “You’re actually gentlemanly about the whole thing, thank you. Very few men can lie next to a woman and leave her be.”
“My little sister was attacked in a similar way,” he admitted. “I saw how it changed her.”
“I’m sorry that happened to her. Is she still alive?” Scythe asked.
“Yes, thankfully,” he said.
“How long have you been a Ferrum?” she asked, changing the subject onto him.
“Only about ten years.”
“Aw, you’re just a little baby, then.” Scythe laughed, lightening the mood.
Dagger cracked a grin too. “I’m far from having a baby’s innocence. I’ll admit I’m impressed you’ve been a Ferrum for a century. Most usually choose to become grey again.”
“I think you and I have a certain thirst for this life. That’s why we’re so good at it.”
“Other than getting caught,” he countered.
“Maniodes can’t force us to marry twice.” She joined his laughter.
After the good humor faded, Dagger said, “Sleep well, Scythe. We should be up again just before the moon appears.”
“Yes, sleep well, Dagger.” Scythe was able to close her eyes and relax into sleep fairly quickly.
Dagger and Scythe Page 3
