Dagger and Scythe

by Emilie Knight

  “Tonight, names do not matter. I know we all have our favorites. The Biter,” he began to list.

  The crowd roared at the name.

  “The burned man: Jasus.”

  They roared again.

  “Alexos the Quick.”

  An even louder roar.

  “But tonight is a nameless local legend. I had heard that he died while floating in his mother’s womb only days before his birth. When he was scraped out of her, he fought Nyx herself and lived. Many would call that a gift from the gods, but we know better, don’t we,” he sneered.

  The crowd laughed along with the roar.

  If that story had a drop of truth, his mother most likely died on the birthing bed. It left a bad taste in Dagger’s mouth. Not that this nameless so-called legend killed his mother, no babe should be accused of that, but that he bragged about it. That mother probably died hoping her son would have a good life, and here he was beating people to death for money.

  “And his opponent,” the show opener raised a hand to the gate he’d come through. “Some fresh meat in our establishment, but he is by no means inexperienced. He grew up in his father’s forge until he grew tired of the monotonous work. So naturally, he stole his father’s finest weapons and left to survive in the wild. And survive he did. This man once throttled a bear in the dead of winter. He then tore open its flesh with his bare hands and slept inside its carcass. Now, I know men grow desperate in a blizzard, but that could not have smelled nice.”

  The crowd laughed. Even Scythe cracked a smile.

  “Now, my friends.” He walked slowly to see all of the faces. “Enough with introductions. Let’s see some blood!”

  The roar this time was the loudest yet, blowing away the fog of anticipation.

  The red-robed show opener darted through the other gate as it opened. A tall man stepped through after him. This local legend had to stand at least seven feet tall. He could easily reach up to the ankle of a spectator and drag him screaming into the ring.

  The dark-green hair and beard was thick and matted, hanging past his shoulders. Personally, Dagger would have preferred shorter hair for a fight like this. Long hair was too easy a target. He stood bare-chested, facing Dagger’s way. His fists were held tightly at his sides.

  The gate beneath Dagger opened again, and the opponent stepped through. The newcomer was shorter by a head but thicker. The forge he supposedly was raised on had toned his arms to almost ridiculous slabs of meat. His black hair curled close to his scalp. A better idea for this fight, but it could still be ripped out by a fistful grabbed properly.

  Dagger saw Scythe react to something that caught her attention. As the two opponents sized each other up, Scythe worked her way around a person to get a better look at the local legend’s side. She looked up to Dagger and noticed he was already watching her. She pointed to the man in the ring excitedly.

  Dagger examined him again, but from this angle he couldn’t see the man’s side. There was a smudge on his left bicep that caught his attention. Dagger couldn’t make out the entire shape but there was definitely a tattoo there.

  Dagger caught Scythe’s eye again. He pointed to the spot on his own arm and mouthed the word wolf to her.

  She nodded.

  The nameless fight made sense, then. Limaros kept his identity a secret so he could participate in the fights. If the opponent knew who he was fighting he might feel too threatened by a powerful man to fight properly. The opponent would just throw the match or be bribed to throw it.

  The two didn’t break into fists immediately. They circled each other, waiting for the other to make an opening.

  As they changed positions, Dagger was able to see the tattoo properly. It was a simple black shape of a wolf in silhouette, howling upward. Dagger rolled his eyes. Of course, the man they needed was in the damn ring itself. He knew now what Nyx meant by this being a more complex job and having to get close to the victim.

  Limaros threw the first punch at the wild man’s jaw. The other man dodged the fist and rerouted his own attack at Limaros’s gut. He blocked the arm and sidestepped away, almost dancing, and kicked at the wild man’s back.

  The wild man stumbled but caught himself. Limaros laughed then, and Dagger could see the fury growing in the opponent’s eyes. Limaros was playing with him.

  The opponent rushed Limaros, who didn’t bother to block the attack. The man’s fist connected with Limaros’s jaw. His head snapped back, and spatters of blood rained onto the sand.

  The crowd cheered with bloodlust.

  Limaros spat blood and phlegm, still chuckling. The opponent threw another punch, but Limaros ducked, then charged and caught his opponent around the middle. He heaved the man up and threw him to the ground. After a hearty kick to the man’s gut, he settled to beating the man’s face inward. Blood painted Limaros’s hands as well as his mouth.

  It would have been over quickly if the man hadn’t kneed Limaros in the groin. He then used the distraction to role Limaros off of him. His nose was broken, his lips were smashed, and his eye was quickly turning black. He’d taken a good beating, and he wasn’t dazed one bit.

  He rushed at Limaros, both on their feet again, and the blows continued. Fists flew, some connected, and Dagger watched as a tooth buried itself in the sand as if cowering from the brawl. He didn’t know whose tooth it was.

  Nyx had said they should get close to Limaros; this was as close as Dagger suspected he would get.

  He picked a perfectly balanced knife from his belt.

  “Nyx,” he called, not bothering to raise his voice over the crowd’s jeers. She would hear him. “I know you’re here.”

  To his shock, she revealed herself. She stood in the pit. A seemingly innocent ten-year-old girl, waiting patiently for the grownups to finish their business.

  He saw Scythe gasp and grip the railing tighter. She wasn’t watching the fight anymore either.

  Nyx watched Dagger in the banisters waiting for him to continue.

  “I offer you this man’s soul. Not for the joy of killing, but for the necessity of it. We would like to thank you for this personal opportunity. I would also like to give my deepest gratitude to you for sparing me when I took Marella’s life. Limaros’s death is now yours, Your Grace.”

  Limaros had his opponent trapped in a headlock. The man’s face was turning from an angry red to a suffocating blue.

  Dagger held his knife between two fingers and flicked his wrist. The knife left his hand and embedded itself in Limaros’s neck.

  Limaros coughed, and shock widened his eyes. He held his opponent for a good time as his own life leaked over his shoulder. The joyous roar turned to confusion and silence as they watched the wrong man’s blood pour. None of them had seen the knife fly. The most anyone could have seen was a glint of silver.

  Limaros’s grip slipped, and the opponent was free. The man gasped for air and regained his feet. He spun to face Limaros but stopped at the sight of the steel in his neck.

  Limaros choked and fell to his knees, clutching at the knife. He pulled it out but that just made the bleeding worse.

  The opponent stood there, stunned, as Limaros died in front of him but not by his hand.

  Nyx knelt beside Limaros in the bloody sand. The local fighting legend scrambled backward as he saw the real legend. She spoke to him gently and presented the bone she carried.

  Limaros’s wide eyes softened with acceptance. He reached out, touched the bone, and then fell limp in the sand. The blood sank into the sand before it could pool around him.

  Nyx stood and looked to Scythe, then Dagger, acknowledging them both. She gave a single nod and vanished.

  Chapter 33

  Scythe managed to sneak to a corner as the confusion escalated. Dagger stayed on the banister above, watching as the crowd was denied a proper kill. Accusations were thrown, more fists flew outside the ring, and Dagger had to laugh at the opponent.

  The man Limaros had been fighting kept looking from his own han
ds to the knife to Limaros, as if trying to convince himself he didn’t do it or figure out how he did. The dumbfounded wide eyes were hilarious.

  The show opener came out again and tried to calm the place, but nothing worked. Eventually, the crowd dispersed, and Dagger climbed back down and met with Scythe.

  The two of them left The Den in its confusion. With Scythe on his arm and a fresh kill under his belt, the night was glorious, but it was best to leave The Den as they had.

  “We have to go back to Skiachora,” Dagger said. “Report to Maniodes.”

  “I know, I just hope Nyx will be there to back us up,” Scythe admitted.

  “I think she will be. She almost looked proud when I thanked her.”

  They snuck through the city walls back to the sally port. The guard on duty wasn’t the young man as before, but a man much less competent at his job. The guard was asleep in a chair and didn’t stir as Scythe wove the keys off his belt. She tossed the keys back at the guard’s feet when she relocked the door behind them.

  Dagger opened the dead tree to Skiachora. He was beginning to feel Scythe’s worry more as his own now. She had told him of her theory that Nyx was setting them up. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was plausible. He had heard Nyx herself say that she wanted them all disbanded, but then she spared him. He couldn’t read Nyx’s motivations, and that frightened him. As they walked closer to Maniodes’s castle, his anticipation rose.

  Scythe’s did as well; he could feel her hand tightening against his.

  Maniodes wasn’t in the throne room, but the sentry directed them to his office. Chip was stationed at his door and bowed to them as they approached.

  “How are things here, Chip?” Scythe asked. “Is he in a good mood?”

  Chip looked to the office door then shrugged, shaking his head a bit.

  “He never is,” she sighed.

  “We’ll be fine.” Dagger squeezed her hand.

  Chip opened the door and let them in. Maniodes sat at his desk scratching out a document, and Pitch was by the fireplace stoking the logs. Pitch paused long enough to wave, and Dagger waved back. He didn’t want to draw attention to the boy in Maniodes’s presence but everyone knew how close they were. A simple wave couldn’t harm anything.

  Maniodes set his quill down in surprise, looking up at them.

  “I wasn’t expecting either of you for a fortnight,” he said.

  The anxiety billowed out of Dagger. “Nyx told you of our job then?”

  “She informed me shortly after talking to Scythe. Why are you here so early?”

  “Limaros has been taken care of. We broke into his fighting ring and saw he was present in the fight itself,” Dagger shrugged. “I took advantage of the situation.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No, my lord. I hung on the banister where no one couldn’t reach me and threw a knife.”

  Maniodes nodded. “And you Scythe?”

  “I scouted out the place and spotted Limaros.”

  “You stayed out of the way in the death then?” The surprise was obvious again.

  “The room was too full from where I was to be subtle.”

  Dagger squeezed her hand. He hoped she took it as a warning. The sarcasm in her voice was far from subtle.

  Maniodes let it pass.

  “Good,” he said. “Well, you might as well go on home. There might not be another job for a while.”

  Dagger and Scythe bowed and took their leave, casting one last wave at Pitch.

  Moments later they were crossing through a courtyard, heading for the main entrance. Dagger was glad to be on his way home. He intended to write to Axe and Pitch, asking if they had found anything of use.

  More than anything he wanted to cut into something. Limaros’s death had been a chore with little pleasure in it.

  Chapter 34

  Seven days later, summer ended, and the leaves had begun their beautiful decay. Scythe had managed to empty out their pitiful library, so rain couldn’t damage what they could salvage.

  The two of them joined Axe in the library in Skiachora when they could spare the time. The research of the types of wood to seal the god away made little progress.

  The frustration at the stalemate irked Scythe. She could only hope Pitch would find something useful soon.

  The rain turned into a storm at the end of the week, putting Dagger’s plans on hold. He had wanted to gather food for the ball, but it would have to wait.

  Scythe strode back to the parlor after checking on their guests. Dagger was working on his dining set to pass the time.

  The woman’s fever had finally broken, and she was able to keep food down. The man, on the other hand, refused to eat until he saw his wife. Scythe left him the soup, knowing he’d eat once his stomach protested enough.

  The sound of the knocker on the main entrance stopped her. She had no idea who could be out in the storm. She approached the door with her weapon shortened but in hand.

  Scythe opened the door an inch. Axe stood on the doorstep with his hood up against the rain.

  “Axe, what are you doing out on a night like this?” she asked, surprised.

  She held the door open wider for him to step through.

  Axe lowered the hood and combed the rain from his hair.

  “There’s news on our project,” he said.

  “Is something wrong?” she gripped her weapon tighter.

  The paranoia that Maniodes would find out always crawled just beneath her skin.

  “I don’t know,” Axe admitted. The worry in his eyes matched her paranoia. “Pitch sent me this message for Dagger.”

  Axe removed a slightly damp parchment from his vest.

  “He’s in the dining room.” Scythe tucked her weapon back into her belt and took the note from Axe. Dagger’s name was scrawled on the front. The parchment was folded over with a spat of red wax holding it closed. “Pitch brought you this himself?”

  The kid hardly had time to escape his chores.

  “A sentry did,” Axe explained.

  Scythe cracked the wax and opened the note.

  “Wait, shouldn’t we find Dagger first?” Axe suggested.

  “If it’s about our project, then I’m involved,” she argued.

  There was nothing incriminating against her as she suspected. She skimmed the note over and beamed. She almost hollered in excitement.

  “What is it?” Axe asked, curious.

  “In a moment, let’s find Dagger.” Scythe hurried off toward another corridor.

  Axe left his rain-soaked coat on a chair by the door and caught up to her. “Well, you read the information first when it was clearly meant for Dagger.”

  “It was meant for all of us,” she argued, surprised by how peeved he sounded.

  “Then what’s in the note?” Axe demanded.

  “I’d rather not repeat myself twice, so you and Dagger can see it at the same time. Relax, he’s in here anyway,” Scythe climbed a few decorative steps and entered the dining room.

  It was a long, narrow room with high, broken windows facing the forest. Rain trickled inside, but the mountainside protected them from most of the downpour. A marble fireplace stood in the center of the back wall, surrounded by the windows. Dagger had managed to light a fire before the storm hit. A pile of wood was kept dry in a different corner.

  The dining table was a new, solid piece of beautiful dark wood. It lay on its side while Dagger worked on it. He had been replacing the legs of the table with human spines. He knelt by one end of it, now securing the last spine into the wood.

  He hadn’t noticed them enter at first. He glanced up as they got closer, grinning and not minding the interruption.

  “Axe.” Dagger stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “How are you? Have you found anything about sealing Maniodes?”

  “I haven’t yet, but I’m not convinced those resources have run dry,” Axe replied. “Pitch had sent me a message and asked me to bring it to you.”

  “Is he
okay?” Concern wiped away the pleasantries from his face.

  “He’s fine, for all I know. Scythe’s read the note already and hasn’t mentioned any harm to the boy.”

  “He is fine,” she said, not appreciating how Axe pointed out that she’d read the note first. Dagger didn’t seem to care anyway. She handed the parchment to Dagger but couldn’t wait for him to finish reading.

  “Maniodes has a lover!” she said excitedly.

  “What?” Axe asked, dumbfounded.

  “It’s true,” Dagger said, not looking away from the note. When he finished reading, he blinked in shock. “Pitch found a letter written by a woman that Maniodes left on his desk by mistake. There was no name for her, and she addresses him as Tyndareus. They’re probably not using real names to keep her safe. This is fantastic!”

  “Pitch also mentioned a thin box he keeps at his bedside,” Scythe continued. “Pitch walked in on him one night looking at it, but he closed and locked it as soon as he noticed Pitch.”

  “What could be inside it?” Axe speculated. “More letters he’s kept?”

  “That, or a portrait maybe,” Dagger offered. “We have to see what’s inside that box.”

  “Could Pitch let us into his room?” Scythe asked.

  “Maybe, there must be a secret entrance that he knows of. Scythe, this is it. We could use her.” Dagger’s excitement mirrored hers.

  “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Axe asked dubiously.

  “It depends on the situation,” Dagger said, his grin turning sly.

  “I’d rather we didn’t yet,” Scythe admitted to Dagger. “She probably doesn’t even know who Tyndareus is. So, I’d rather not terrify her yet.”

  Dagger thought it over and nodded. “We still need to find her.”

  He turned to Axe and clasped his shoulder. “I know you just got here, but we need to go.”

  “Now?” Axe questioned. “It’s a bit rash. We should form some plan of attack first, or at least our next move.”

  “Research has been taking too long. We have a lead, so I’m going to take it. We’ve been sitting on this idea for weeks now, but the moment there’s potential progress, you want to stall?”