“We were wondering why Maniodes was still preventing him from going on missions,” Scythe added quickly. “He’s seemed stressed lately. We were hoping you could keep an eye on him, if you get the chance.”
Dagger wanted to kiss Scythe for rescuing him out of the awkwardness.
“I know we have no right to ask anything of you,” he added, “but I’m worried about the kid. I’m wondering if he’s being punished for something.”
“No, not at all,” Nyx said, her voice rising in earnest. “Maniodes isn’t harassing the boy. He must be nervous because I asked something of him. I asked him to monitor your bloodlust.”
Dagger only blinked in response; he hadn’t expected her to outright say her goals. Scythe squeezed his hand and played along with his confusion, saying, “What do you mean?”
“When an Incruentus Ferrum is created,” Nyx explained, “Maniodes gives you a sort of lust for violence. He believes it makes controlling you a bit easier because you were already willing to kill innocent people. He didn’t want his creations to worry about damaged morals or have a personal crisis. It was a good idea at first, but then a pattern started. The bloodlust grew, and the recipient became harder to control. Particularly you, Scythe.”
Scythe squeezed Dagger’s hand again. He grasped back, giving what silent reassurance he could.
“It’s been growing in you for a hundred years, and you became more rebellious and violent. Going so far as burning an entire village.”
“That was Dagger’s idea,” Scythe accused.
“You still jumped on the plan instantly,” Dagger defended.
Nyx chuckled. “It’s alright. Dagger, I think yours was increasing rapidly because of your closeness to Scythe. As for Pitch, he didn’t have much to begin with, and it didn’t grow.”
“But Pitch has been dead longer then I have,” Dagger said. “Shouldn’t his be stronger than mine? Why is he different?”
“It’s because of his age. He’s basically stuck at being a twelve-year-old. He had some curiosity about violence but he’s never acted on it strongly. That’s also why he’s been the best steward to Maniodes.”
“So why have him monitor our bloodlust?” Scythe asked. “Why not Maniodes?”
“Maniodes is prideful in his work. I don’t fault him on that; he’s proud of what he’s created: you. Yet, because of that, he fails to see the down-sides, other than your rebellious nature against him. Working through Pitch was subtler. He trusted Pitch’s word, and the kid had good ideas for assignments. I asked Pitch to feed Maniodes certain jobs so they would go to you two.
“There was another reason, though,” she continued. “As your bloodlust grew stronger and you started slaughtering the living, it reminded me of something one of my sons did.”
Dagger exchanged a glance with Scythe. Nyx was talking about Lumeon.
“I won’t say who, but I was not going to let that slaughter happen again,” Nyx finished. “I thought it would be a stronger lesson if you came across it yourselves. But, considering you basically asked about it because of your worry for Pitch, I thought I might as well tell you. It seemed to have worked either way. You two are following the ground rules again, though this décor is rather questionable.”
“We didn’t kill anyone to set this up,” Dagger quickly said. “We dug up fresh graves.”
“It’s still odd, but beautiful in its own way. You are leaving the living alone anyway.”
“I hope we live up to your true expectations,” Scythe added, “to rectify that assumption.”
“I’m sure you will,” Nyx said. “I wish you both the best happiness. If you need any personal help, write a note addressed to me and burn it. The letter will appear to me almost instantly.”
Nyx curtsied to them. They quickly replied in kind. Nyx left them then to join Maniodes by the sentries again. Scythe took Dagger’s arm and guided him to watch the fire. He watched her curiously as she leaned toward him and whispered sadly, “We’re going to ruin this night for her when the time comes.”
After a couple of hours the estate was mostly empty again. The Incruentus Ferrum started to trickle away, in groups of two or three, and the sentries followed suit. Nyx had even given Scythe a hug before she decided to vanish. Now all that was left was to clean the used plates and reorganize everything. Scythe was tempted to leave the mess for the next night, but she hated seeing her home in the aftermath of the celebrations. Dagger hadn’t given much complaint at helping clean either. She was glad about that.
They decided to leave the decorations for the next night, so they focused on the cutlery, goblets, and plates. They chatted about nothing in particular, but it was nice. Scythe couldn’t stop thinking about their dance. Every time there was a lull in the conversation Dagger would just smile at her, and their eyes would linger a second too long.
While she gathered used plates from the parlor, Dagger came up behind her. She was leaning over the table and felt his hand stroke her lower back, then stay there. Straightening she took in his scent of blood and musk, and his black eyes filled her vision.
“May I admit something?” his voice was deeper than normal.
“Of course, dear husband,” she said leaning into him.
“Ever since our waltz,” his hand moved lower, “I’ve been wanting to rip this dress off of you.”
“How dare you,” she said kissing his cheek. “I worked hard on this dress.”
At one point later, as she walked past him to take a handful of goblets to the kitchen, he pinched her ass. She just laughed and swatted his hand away playfully. Before, she would have shied away, she knew, but things were better now.
Coming up from the kitchens to gather more plates, Dagger stopped her in the corridor.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said pulling her toward him and planting his lips on hers.
Scythe kissed him in reply. She didn’t know how to put what she felt into words as their embrace deepened.
She broke off the second kiss to breathe, but he clearly wanted more. She slipped from his grasp but kept hold of his hands.
The rest of the mess could be dealt with later. For now, the fire inside her was burning away all reason. Dagger had lit that fire. She wanted to thank him for it.
In the main entrance, Dagger untied the red ribbon around her waist and let it fall to the dusty floor. While climbing the cracked stairs Scythe took off his belt of knives and his doublet. By the time they reached Dagger’s bedchambers, Scythe was down to a short, black undergarment, and Dagger only had his trousers left. Scythe was already undoing them as Dagger closed the door, not looking away from her eyes.
Chapter 39
Several quiet nights passed after Nukternios, with Dagger and Scythe mostly enjoying the pleasures of a proper honeymoon. Scythe couldn’t deny to herself: she was loving it. Dagger was everything she needed, and she hadn’t known that before. As a new night thickened, Chip had come up through the dead tree leading two creatures. Dagger and Scythe hurried down to meet him.
Two glorious animals now stood before of them, their ivory bones gleaming in the moon’s light. They stood like skeletal horses, similar to the way Chip resembled a human, but with a prominent difference. Where Chip was hollow, these creatures had thick black smoke curling into itself in their ribcages and skulls. The two largest clouds were connected around the spine of its neck by thin tendrils of the same smoke. More tendrils sprouted from the ribcage and spread along the back and down their legs. The tendrils faded away as they reached the hooves and tail of the beasts.
“What are they?” Dagger asked in awe.
“Night Mares,” Scythe explained. “Maniodes created them during his war with Phaos thousands of years ago.”
“How come I’ve never seen them before?” Dagger asked, touching one of the horses’ skulls.
“He keeps them in the stables, but rarely uses them anymore,” Scythe said.
Chip pointed to Dagger, then Scythe, and then the two mares.
“Y
ou know where Maniodes is?” Scythe asked excitedly. “The bone in his shoe actually worked?”
Chip nodded and walked a few paces down the road. He stopped and gestured for them to follow.
Scythe took the reins of one of the mares and swung into the saddle of well stitched black leather. It sat on the back of the mare as if she were a regular horse. Scythe had expected to feel the ridge of the spine unbalance the saddle, but it didn’t.
Dagger hollered as he climbed onto the other mare. He looked like a knight gone rogue with his black coat atop the Night Mare. The sight of him galloping alone would cause any mortal to perish in terror.
“Let’s find that woman,” he said, grinning wickedly.
Chip took off down the road at full tilt.
“Ha!” Scythe snapped the reins and the mare took off behind Chip.
Dagger’s mare matched hers, and they raced over Ichorisis together. No army could withstand them.
The Night Mares didn’t tire or even slow down for a long time. Scythe had peeked behind them and watched the smoke from the beasts’ ribcages disappear in wisps. They ran through the forest hills. Bounding over fallen logs with ease.
When the trees thinned out, Scythe unhooked her weapon from her back. She flicked it to the side, elongating it to full size. The rush of battle flooded through her veins. She raised her scythe, blade behind them like a banner, and screamed into the night.
Dagger tied his reins off and pulled out his choice weapons. Raising them in the cold air, he joined her cry.
They rode for hours. They stuck to a generally eastward direction, veering north a bit. They didn’t pass many travelers on the road, but there was one walking alone. He couldn’t see Chip as he bounded past but the man did stop. Dagger took one side while Scythe took the other, and they raced past, heedless of possibly breaking the shadow trick.
Looking back Scythe saw the cold horror on the man’s face as he hugged himself. He looked like he was going to be sick. The tendrils of smoke swirled around him. They hadn’t broken the spell, but he felt them.
The trees became sparse, and plains stretched out around them. They passed several villages and a lone cottage. The plains turned to rolling hills, with the road weaving through the valleys and cresting several of the largest ones.
They passed Stymphalia, its gleaming walls bleached a dull white in the night air. Eventually, the ground became jagged. Rocks grew where the trees should have, and the sharp tips of the mountains could be seen cutting off the stars.
Chip reached the crest of a rocky hill and finally stopped. Dagger and Scythe pulled the reins, stopping the mares behind him. The thrill of the ride left Scythe breathless.
Scythe dismounted the Mare. Approaching Chip’s side, she saw what had stopped him. A small village lay nestled among the rocky landscape. It was nearly blackened out in the small hours of the night, but Scythe could still see it. There were only about two-dozen houses, smaller than the village she and Dagger had burned together.
She imagined the thatched roofing of the houses ablaze. She could practically see the people scattering in panic in the glorious view of the mountains.
“Maniodes is here?” she asked Chip.
He pointed to a cottage slightly apart from the others on the northern side. It had a large barn that probably required the entire village to put together. A tall fence ringed a large section of empty field beside the barn.
“Do you know this place?” Dagger asked Scythe.
“I don’t know every village that crops up,” Scythe replied. “Even if I’m one hundred years old.”
“We’ll have to get its name elsewhere, then. Chip, do you mind waiting here with the horses? I’d rather not risk you being seen by Maniodes.”
Chip nodded.
“Dagger, you sneak around front. I’ll go around the back, and we’ll meet by the barn,” Scythe suggested.
“Be careful.” Dagger met her eye in earnest. “This isn’t a human we’re stalking.”
“I will be, and you too.” Scythe pecked his cheek. “See you by the barn.”
Keeping to the shadows of the larger boulders, Scythe crept closer to the house. Glancing over, she saw Dagger’s shadow veer right and disappear around the corner.
Scythe found a door and a couple of windows, but they were locked and dark. The second-floor windows were the same. It seemed like a perfectly normal night as whoever lived here slept.
The house was uneventful, but rounding on the barn, staying low behind some bushes, Scythe caught a tiny light coming from a high window. It was little more than a pinprick of yellow flickering light, possibly the flame of a candle. It winked out for a moment then came back.
Movement caught her eye on the ground. A figure melted into the shadow of the house on her side. She’d only seen it for a moment, but she knew the man’s form.
“Dagger,” she whispered creeping closer to the house.
He broke away from the shadow and joined her by the foliage.
“Did you find anything? There was nothing on the front, just locked doors,” he said.
“The back was the same, but come here.” Scythe took his hand and led him to where she’d seen the candle.
“Look.”
He followed her pointing finger and spotted the flickering light.
“There are two entrances to the barn on the other side. Luckily, they’re close together. This way.”
They darted to the shadow of the barn and made their way along its side. This close, Scythe heard a horse whinny inside. The smell of them was pungent. A narrow door stood on the east side. The north wall had taller double doors that could open into the fenced area.
They darted to a nearby well and crouched behind the stone. The moon shone in their favor, lighting up both sides of the barn.
“All we do is wait,” Scythe said.
“For Chip’s sake, I hope it’s not too long,” Dagger added.
They sat in silence for some time. Scythe was glad she’d chosen to ride in trousers so she didn’t have to dirty one of her dresses. Although Dagger scolded her for not wearing shoes again. Over the next hour they watched the barn, but she noted how Dagger’s concentration melted into boredom.
“Dagger?” Scythe said quietly, not wanting to risk being caught. “How are you doing about your mother? The festival was so soon after it, you probably haven’t had time to mourn.”
His boredom sharpened to curiosity, then changed to sadness.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I knew Mother would go eventually. I didn’t know I’d get to be there, but I’m glad I was.”
He met her eyes then. “I saw how uncomfortable you were then, actually. Are you alright?”
Her hands balled into fists, but she forced herself to talk. “I may not have felt a mother’s love right, but I know what it is supposed to be like.”
She realized then that most of her unease stemmed from jealousy. Dagger had a loving mother when her own had loved a plant. She examined her clenched hands, wondering if she was actually mourning Dagger’s mother even though they’d never met.
“I wish you could have met her,” Dagger said. “In her lucid moments, she was a riot to talk to. She loved riddles.”
Scythe stayed quiet, unsure how to unravel her own emotions.
Dagger’s hand cupped her cheek, drawing her eye up again. His black eyes in the cold air reminded her of warm coals in a fire.
“Do you miss your own mother?” he asked softly.
Scythe nodded into his hand.
“Have you ever found them in Skiachora?”
“No. I don’t think I want to,” she admitted.
“That’s fine,” he said. “We could find my mother. Pay her a visit?”
Dagger was consoling her. Scythe kicked herself for being so selfish.
“If you want,” she said.
“I do. I wonder if she’s near father.”
Dagger let his hand drop, and she uncurled her fists
. He glanced over the well. The boredom and sadness vanished as something caught his eye. Scythe followed his gaze.
The narrow door of the barn opened sometime after their talk and two figures came outside. Neither of them held a light source, so Scythe couldn’t make out any details, but it was definitely a man and woman. They stayed close to each other in the crisp air. They were certainly two bodies that were accustomed to being close.
The man bent down and kissed the woman. There was no doubt in who the figure was, but he was so short. Maniodes was still taller than the woman, but he only stood about six feet. His hair was the same dark-blue shade in the moonlight. The woman threw her arms around him, holding him close for several moments. The secret lovers parted slowly, still talking about something. The woman stole a final peck before hurrying back into the house. The man kept to the shadows and strode off toward a grove of trees.
“I’ll follow him,” Dagger whispered. “You follow her.”
“Be careful.” She gripped his arm.
“I’ll be fine.” He covered her hand. “I’ll meet you by Chip on the hill.”
They parted ways, and Dagger followed Maniodes.
The woman had already closed the door of the house. Scythe followed and tried it, but it was locked. Luckily, the lock itself was cheap. Scythe picked the lock easily and closed the door behind her. She headed for the stairs, glad she’d come barefoot. People were still cautions at night. Even in the comfort of their own home, the darkness and the monsters within always crept past their sense of safety. They would investigate strange noises. Scythe left no sounds as she climbed the steps.
Two doors in a hallway waited on the second floor. Scythe opened the left door and peered inside. A wide bed held two sleeping figures. She decided to leave them be for now. The second door creaked slightly, causing Scythe to freeze. There was no movement on the other side, but that didn’t mean much. Keeping the door steady, Scythe leaned in and looked inside. This room held a single bed with a feminine figure under the blankets.
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