Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  On the positive side, he had his repertoire of magic, but after that first blow he was wondering how useful it would be. The magic most Seekers were taught focused on detection, identification, and protection, with a couple of minor offensive spells. Seekers weren’t taught more powerful attack spells, since they generally didn’t need it in their jobs. Ansee had an edge here. As a sorcerer, he wasn’t limited to spells that he’d been taught or forced to memorize, which meant that he could take the offensive if the opportunity presented itself. Ansee didn’t want to kill this elf; he needed the elf to be taken alive so that he could stand trial for two murders. That made Ansee’s task a bit harder, and it was clear that his opponent was at least somewhat skilled with a very powerful enchanted weapon.

  “Burn in the fires of hell, halpbloed lover!” yelled his attacker.

  What?

  The thought was barely formed when the killer struck. He moved with such speed and fury that Ansee suspected that his attacker was magically enhanced to increase his speed. Still on the ground, Ansee managed to roll away but two of the three blows struck home and got through his protection spell, drawing more blood.

  Damn, but he’s fast!

  Ansee needed to take the initiative. He grabbed a handful of dirt and grit and tossed it toward his attacker, calling out “Kir girdap!” The loose grit suddenly changed direction, flying to the attacker’s face and whirling about in a maelstrom of dirt. It didn’t injure him, but it was enough to distract him, allowing Ansee to stand up and draw his dagger. Luckily, his right arm seemed to be working even though the wound still hurt like hell.

  While the flying dirt continued to distract his attacker, Ansee cast a spell to magically enhance his own dagger. After seeing what the blade had done at the two crime scenes, and feeling its effects first hand, he was afraid that, without the enhancement, the attacker’s sword would cut the dagger in two.

  He completed the spell just in time, as the maelstrom about the attacker’s head finally disappeared. He leapt upon Ansee with a fury of blows that Ansee only just barely managed to parry.

  “The purity of the elven race will be preserved,” said the killer. His voice sounded hollow and ringing, coming from behind the mask.

  Ansee wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never been in this situation before. As the latest attack was parried he said, “You’re under arrest for the murders of First Magistrate Avecath and Lady Ochroma! Put down your sword!” Wow, that sounded really stupid.

  The masked attacker responded with an overhand swing that, as Ansee moved to parry the attack, twisted and changed to a thrust. The attacker caught Ansee out of position and the only reason Ansee wasn’t skewered like a roasted quail was his protection spell. The black and red blade was deflected slightly by the barrier and only managed to slice along Ansee’s right side. He still let out a howl of pain, though. It hurt like hell and he wasn’t used to this kind of physical attack.

  He’s too fast and too good with that blade, Ansee thought. He was spending all of his time defending the attacks, so he had no chance to get in an offensive spell. I need to get some help, and fast. He knew that his protection spell and enchantment on the dagger wouldn’t last much longer. Their magic had a limited duration and he’d be in serious danger when they faded.

  Ansee managed to parry the latest strikes and spin away from his attacker to gain some distance. The killer laughed. He didn’t seem to be winded from his furious assault.

  “You are beaten, halpbloed lover! I will continue to purify the elven race!”

  “So who’s your next victim going to be?” Ansee puffed, trying to catch his breath.

  “And spoil the surprise? I don’t think so.” Ansee mentally shrugged, it had been worth a shot.

  As the killer leapt at Ansee, the blade slicing an arc toward his neck, Ansee did something unexpected. He jumped toward his attacker, tucking into a roll as the blade swung over his head. Ansee thought the move was good enough that Senior Constable Juräsee, his fight instructor at the Constabulary, would have approved.

  Ansee and his opponent had exchanged places. Since Ansee had precipitated the move, it left the killer off balance and gave Ansee the initiative. If Ansee had a sword, he might have tried to come up out of the move and land a blow at his opponent. As it was, Ansee came out of the roll and ran about five paces away from his attacker.

  I need help. Ansee could see that the street had cleared of elves. Even the four adventurers had fled the area. Figures. Ansee turned to face the killer, who was recovering from his own swing and turning to face Ansee. My spells will dissipate soon and I won’t stand a chance then.

  With the killer staring at him, Ansee thrust his left fist into the air and shouted, “Parlama!” This was a spell that all Seekers learned or, in Ansee’s case, developed on his own, in able to summon help from other Constables. A brilliant green flare shot up from Ansee’s fist, rising about forty paces into the sky before erupting in a loud BANG! and a shower of green sparks.

  Ansee couldn’t remember the last time that a Seeker had used this spell. Certainly not in my lifetime. Maybe it had been back during the Nights of Fire and Daggers about 150 years ago, when mobs of elves had roamed the streets, attacking humans and burning and looting their shops and homes. The sky had been filled with flares that first night as the mobs had gotten out of hand and had looted other businesses and attacked any Constable who tried to interfere. There followed many days and nights of riots, looting, and fires. The King had ordered the 2nd Hawk Dragoons into the city to contain the riots, and many elves, humans, and other races lost their lives before the King enacted the second Purity Law, which had finally quieted the mobs and ended the rioting. It was not a time that made Ansee especially proud.

  Though it had been well over a century and a half ago, Constables were still taught to come running whenever a flare was seen. It meant another Constable was in danger, and every Constable who saw such a flare would drop what they were doing and come to his aid.

  The killer saw the brilliant flare and must have known the significance. “Your friends will only find your corpse!”

  Eighteen

  Reva walked along Red Leaf Path through Merchant Grove. She had an urge to get some cacao on the way home, so she was taking a shortcut through a small copse of trees in order to get reach the House of Theobroma. After leaving Rhoanlan’s shop, she had gone to Pfeta fey Orung. She felt it was her duty to advise the group’s leader to take extra precautions for their members. Despite FC Aescel’s lack of concern, Reva was sure that the killer was only targeting members of the order, and only select members at that. But she couldn’t tell Pfeta fey Orung that information. If there were a secret group within that organization, she didn’t want to tip their hand that she knew. She also wanted to learn more about the order. She knew only a little about Pfeta fey Orung—more now after her meeting with Rhoanlan—and she wanted to know more about how the order operated. She hoped that by knowing more about the group, she might be able to anticipate the killer’s next move.

  She had intended to meet with the head of Pfeta fey Orung, Olea Aucarii, but never got the chance. She’d been told that he was in a meeting with somebody at the time and she was asked to wait. After over an hour of sitting around and staring at a painting of a waterfall and mountains—someplace in the Smoke Highlands, she thought—she was told that Aucarii wouldn’t be able to meet with her at all. He was busy with another matter and couldn’t get away.

  Reva had become frustrated and angry, giving the poor elf that had delivered the message an earful. She’d stormed out of the building and was several streets away when she remembered that Ansee had probably still been in the archives doing his research. She thought about going back, but decided that, after her outburst, they probably wouldn’t let her back in the door.

  Instead, Reva had gone back to New Port. Aescel was busy with other Constables and Inspectors about other cases.
She didn’t know if she was ready to give him an update on the case anyway. What she’d learned from Rhoanlan was not much, and without some other proof, Aescel would just say it was a wild conspiracy. He’d probably be even less likely to believe her since he was a member of Pfeta fey Orung himself. She would need something solid to give him before he’d see it from her perspective.

  After writing up some notes, she checked on some messages from Alchemist Bromide concerning Lady Ochroma’s death. Thea confirmed that Lady Ochroma had been killed “by a single strike from a bladed weapon that had cut her longitudinally from the crown of the head to a point one-third of a hand past the sternum along the median trace of the body.” The crisp, alchemical language made official what Reva already knew.

  She’d then visited the evidence room to return the two enamel pins to their respective boxes. With that task completed, she decided to finally call it a day. Stifling a yawn, she’d taken another pinch of Wake before heading home.

  Reva passed a trio of young elves playing a game of sticks, one little boy arguing that another player had been cheating, when…BANG! The sound startled her and the children. She looked up and around, noticing the flash of green light.

  Shit! A Seeker, and maybe other Constables, was in danger. She didn’t remember the last time a flare had been used, but it didn’t matter. She took off at a dead run, unstrapping her sword and pulling it out of its scabbard.

  The flare had been close by, and as she came to the end of the path and onto the main road she saw chaos. A few elves were running to her left, away from something farther up the road. A few woven shopping baskets and cloaks were scattered in the street. As Reva turned and looked to her right, she saw two combatants in front of the House of Theobroma. The outdoor seating area was a shambles of overturned tables and chairs and spilled drinks.

  As she looked at the combatants her jaw fell open. One of the combatants was clearly a Constable, but what amazed her was that the Constable was Ansee. He was covered in blood and both his green-brown cloak and the armor beneath were cut and slashed in multiple places. She saw a very nasty wound on his right shoulder that was bleeding profusely.

  Ansee was wielding his dagger to block a furious assault being made by a figure in green-black armor. The attacker was swinging a black-bladed sword that glowed red and he wore a green and black mask—it was the killer that she and Ansee had been looking for!

  What the hell?

  Before Reva could react, the killer managed to slip a blow past Ansee’s defenses. The blade hit Ansee in the head but something caused the blade to deflect upward—Ansee must have a protection spell active, she realized—as the blade hit Ansee with the flat and not the edge, right in his temple. Had he been hit with the edge it might have cut his skull open, but it was still strong enough to cause Ansee to fall to the ground.

  The killer laughed and raised the black blade over his head for a killing blow. “Good-bye, halpbloed lover!”

  Reva yelled “No!” and raced toward the two.

  At that moment, and from the other side of the two combatants, came another cry. “Halt!” Reva saw a patrol Constable, his sword drawn, running in from the end of Stone Carver Road.

  The killer paused, his head swiveling to look at the two oncoming Constables. “Damn you to hells,” he swore. A slender vial appeared in his left hand, which he raised to the slit of a mouth in the mask. Liquid poured out and the killer, his possessions, and the sword began to dissolve into a fine mist.

  “No! You bastard!” Reva screamed, swinging her sword. The weapon passed harmlessly through the mist and she thought she heard laughter fill the air as the cloud drifted away. She stared up at the drifting cloud, trying to see where it went, but a faint voice at her feet called her attention back to the ground.

  “Inspector,” Ansee gasped. “You didn’t have to come…” He coughed and wiped blood from his face. “I had everything under…” Ansee closed his eyes, his body going limp.

  “No! Ansee!” yelled Reva. She tossed aside her sword and bent down over his body. The Constable came running up from her left but she ignored him. She leaned down, placing her right ear to Ansee’s chest. She started to panic, unable to hear anything at first, but then she could make out a slow, but steady, heartbeat. She sighed with relief and looked up. She saw the young Constable nearly doubled over and breathing hard, his hickory-brown hair pasted to his scalp with sweat. It took Reva a moment to recognize him.

  “Constable Gania, isn’t it?”

  “Yes…ma’am,” he said between breaths. “I’m so sorry. I was over along Narris Highway when I saw the flare. I came as fast as I could, but I must have been too slow.” He gestured to Ansee’s unconscious form. There was so much blood and so many wounds it was an easy mistake to make.

  Reva whistled softly to herself. Narris Highway was at least five hundred paces away, or more, depending on where Constable Gania had been when he saw the flare. To run that distance in such a short amount of time was pretty impressive. She pointed to Ansee.

  “He’s still alive, Constable.” Gania looked relieved. “Help me carry him. We need to get him to a healer to keep it that way.”

  Reva picked up her sword and sheathed it, and then she unbuckled the scabbard, bending down to slide it under Ansee’s legs. Gania did the same with his scabbard, except under Ansee’s armpits, and together they lifted the makeshift litter. Reva knew that she shouldn’t move the body, wincing a bit at the realization that Ansee was not a body yet, but she was operating on instinct and not rational thought. She headed toward the river.

  “We aren’t taking him to New Port?” asked Constable Gania.

  “No, it’s too far,” Reva answered. “I used to patrol this grove. There’s a healer not fifty paces from us and a good apothecary near there, too.”

  Gania nodded. More Constables were running to the area, rather anti-climatically, Reva thought. She whistled at the closest Constable, who came trotting over and saluted while sheathing her sword.

  “Secure this area,” Reva nodded at the bloody road. “Then send a runner to New Port to inform them that a Seeker has been attacked. Have New Port send a horse messenger to FC Aescel’s home. He’ll be there by now for dinner. Tell the First Constable that I will be at the Red Willow, a healer here in Merchant Grove.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the Constable as she turned and started barking orders.

  “Come on,” Reva said to Gania. They started walking slowly down the road.

  “Who is he?” asked Gania.

  “Ansee Carya, and he’s my Seeker. He was just attacked by the murderer he and I have been trying to track down.”

  There was a gasp from Gania. Reva couldn’t see his expression as he was behind her, but she felt him get a firmer grip on the scabbard and hurry his pace a bit.

  “Slow down, Constable,” chided Reva. “Let’s not kill my Seeker before we get him to the healer.”

  Nineteen

  Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä stood in the front room of the cobbler’s shop, looking through the front window to the building across the road. It was just after sunset, that time of day when the sky was still somewhat bright and the ground was in shadow.

  “What in the many hells am I doing in West Gate Grove at this time of day?” Ailan hadn’t realized he’d been speaking aloud, and the other Inquisitors in the room didn’t answer him. It has been another lousy day, Ailan thought. He should have been home finishing up dinner with his wife and two daughters, maybe sitting in his favorite chair, reading a book and smoking his pipe.

  And when was the last time you did that? A part of him asked. If I keep missing dinner, Eilanna will start thinking that I have a mistress. Hell, Ailan frowned, if I keep this up, Veronnia will leave me too and I won’t have to worry that Eilanna will suspect that I have a mistress because she’ll be gone.

  He looked at the combination shop and home across the
road. Like most buildings in West Gate it was a simple, boxy building of wood timbers and plaster, two stories tall. It was neat and well built, if a little run down, but it lacked the charm of other buildings in Tenyl. It’s too human looking, Ailan thought. Humans were always concerned with function over aesthetics.

  The shop he was watching was called Qurna’s Curtain and was a magic shop, rather nondescript and like so many other magic shops found throughout the city. The owner and the family were out at the moment, which was why Ailan and the others were in the cobbler’s shop. The other Sucra were four Novices and an Inquisitor. They knew only what Malvaceä had told them about their mission: that the owner of the magic shop was needed for questioning. That was true, but not the whole truth. The nice thing about working in the Sucra was that people followed orders and didn’t ask questions.

  The full reason why Malvaceä was spending his evening stuck in a cobbler’s shop, inhaling the stench of cured leather, and not with his wife or mistress, had started that afternoon. Ailan’s visit to Pfeta fey Orung and with Olea had gone as he’d expected it would—badly. Olea had met Ailan with a smug and condescending attitude, expecting to show Ailan how much in the wrong he was.

  “This is a waste of my time and yours, Inquisitor,” he’d said haughtily, trying to put Ailan in his place. “You are jumping to rash conclusions that will be more damaging for the attention it is drawing to us.”

  “The damage will be worse if I turn out to be correct,” Ailan said. He didn’t like being talked down to by sycophantic idiots like Olea.