Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  “Correct,” said the elf. “And the head of Pfeta fey Orung must be somebody who best exemplifies the honor of elven purity. You have tarnished and soiled everything that this mask and Pfeta fey Orung stand for.” His voice then turned conversational. “Did you know that this,” he pointed to the mask, “is not just any Basvu Mask? This is the Basvu Mask, the first one, said to have been given to the first head of our order by Basvu himself.”

  Olea laughed, the absurdity of the statement cutting through the fear. “That’s a legend, made up by us, so that fools like you believe that we have been blessed by Basvu. And you always buy it, like the mewling children you are.”

  “It’s the truth! And I have the records to prove it!” He pointed to himself. “And I have the only right as a pure elf to wear this mask!”

  “Who are you?” Olea asked. He was suspecting that this person was a member of Pfeta fey Orung. Somebody that he knew.

  “I am the one who is going to reveal your lies for all of Tenyl to see!” He lifted the blade high, ready to swing.

  Olea turned to run, but the masked elf moved with blinding speed, blocking his escape. He held the blade with the tip pointing at Olea’s throat. Olea stopped, holding up his hands. He now realized that he was going to die and the resignation to his fate seemed to give him strength.

  “You think you are a pure elf?” he mocked. “That you, and all the elves, sprung from some mystical woodland realm by Basvu’s hand? That you are separate and pure from any other race? You think this makes you better than all the other races? You are the one living the life of lies.” He pointed a finger at the masked elf. “You and all these other blind sheep,” he waved his arm in a vague gesture to take in the building, “sitting around and tracing your heritages, trying to prove how pure your family trees are. You cannot see the truth.”

  “And what is your version of the truth?”

  “That the pure elven race is as mixed as a mongrel dog in the street. You, me, everybody! We are no better than halpbloeden!”

  “No!” the figure screamed, the sound echoing around the rotunda. He brought the blade down in a fury of blind rage, the blade easily slicing through Olea’s left arm. “I am pure!” he yelled as blood sprayed across the floor.

  Olea staggered under the blow, crying out in pain. He tried to turn, but the killer was too quick. Another wild swing cut off Olea’s right arm at the elbow.

  “My heritage is pure! I am pure! None can match my purity and I will save the elves from your deceit and lies!”

  More swings and blows followed in the fury. There was no order, no symmetry, just crude hacking at flesh that gave away easily under the Fury Blade’s power. After cutting through the right elbow, it swung around, neatly cutting Olea’s head off, which fell and rolled a short distance, coated in blood. The body stayed erect for as long as it took the Fury Blade to cut through the left thigh, then the entire body collapsed, falling to the floor in a heap. The killer’s attacks were fueled by rage and the Fury Blade stoked this fire, causing more and more strokes to slice the body into smaller and smaller pieces. Only when the body was a chopped mess of flesh, blood, and bone did the killer stop.

  He was panting, out of breath, even with the magical enhancements. He felt euphoric, a feeling of pleasure and excitement he’d not felt the other times. His body shook with a need to kill again, and again. It needed to experience that feeling again, the wild excitement…

  No! he said to himself. He clenched his left fist together and closed his eyes tight. He had to fight the feeling, regain his composure. He had lost control and he couldn’t let that happen again. It risked letting the blade take control and that would ruin his plan. He had so much more work to do and if he lost control again and gave in to the blade’s will, its need, then he would never complete his task.

  He calmed his breathing and opened his eyes. I will not let that happen again, he said to himself. He lifted the mask and walked over to Olea’s head. It had rolled to a stop about a pace away from the body and was staring up with glassy eyes. He spat, a last act of rage hitting the head between the eyes, but the fury didn’t come. Satisfied, the killer turned and walked out of the rotunda.

  Twenty-one

  Sunlight fell upon Ansee’s face and he stretched and yawned, welcoming the warmth it brought. He was feeling relaxed, yesterday’s attack feeling like a receding nightmare. Suddenly a man’s voice called out, “Reva is sexy!” Ansee opened his eyes and blinked several times. He didn’t recognize the ceiling above him, and the bed he was lying in had a much softer mattress than his. Definitely not my own bed.

  He heard Reva’s voice say, “Hush, you, or I’ll put you back under the blanket.”

  Ansee bolted upright in bed.

  “About time,” Reva said in greeting. She sat in a chair, a book held in her right hand. With her left hand she was stroking the head of a brightly colored parrot sitting on her left shoulder.

  “Did I die and come back as a pirate?” asked Ansee.

  Reva chuckled and let the parrot nibble on her fingers. “No such luck. This is Gabii.”

  At the mention of the bird’s name, she called, “Reva is sexy!”

  “And she’s about to go back on her perch!”

  Ansee actually blushed a bit, since Gabii wasn’t wrong in the statement. But he knew it wasn’t appropriate to think that about his Inspector, which made it all the harder to not think about it, so he blushed even more.

  “My boyfriend, Aavril, taught Gabii to say that on the trip back from Cantull. I’ve not been able to get her to say anything different.”

  Ansee took a moment to look around the room. Along the wall next to the bed, there was an old wardrobe that was painted green and blue with a white unicorn stenciled on the door. A cloak stand stood by the door, holding several cloaks and shawls. Next to the cloak stand was a table and small chair. A mirror was propped against the wall, and there were several pots that looked like they held makeup. A framed portrait of an elf sat on the table, along with a comb and a hairbrush. Pinned to the wall were a couple of parchments that looked like commendations. He initially thought that he was in a guest room, but now realized that he was in Reva’s bedroom. He started to blush again.

  “Is he awake?” called another voice. Reva’s mother, he realized.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Ask him if he wants any tea.”

  “He just woke up, Mother,” Reva yelled.

  “Then he probably wants some tea,” countered her mother.

  Reva sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Do you want any tea?”

  “Umm…just some water, if that’s no trouble.” Ansee was feeling embarrassed and he didn’t know why.

  “He just wants some water, Mother,” Reva called.

  “I’ll bring it with the tea then,” Reva’s mother called back. Reva shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Why am I at your home?” Ansee asked.

  “You fell unconscious after the fight,” Reva said as she stood up. Gabii flapped her wings to keep her balance on Reva’s shoulder. “Constable Gania and I took you to a healer that was just down the street. He ministered to your wounds, but you had lost a lot of blood during the fight, and remained unconscious. I didn’t want to keep you there, just in case the killer made another attempt. So we brought you here to recover.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ansee.

  “Whatever the hells for?” Reva demanded.

  “For letting the killer get away.”

  “You don’t need to apologize about that. Willem, Aescel, and I all looked at the scene. Willem was very impressed at how well you defended yourself. From what we could gather at the scene, and the witnesses we could round up, you did very well to blunt his attacks and keep him off balance.”

  “It sure didn’t feel that way,” Ansee said, rubbing the spot on his neck where the blade had almost c
ut his head off. The skin itched where the magical healing had repaired it.

  “I still wish I could have caught him,” he said. He thought that Reva was being too generous with her praise and he couldn’t drop the thought that he let the killer get away.

  “Well sure, that would have been the better thing to do,” Reva agreed. “But I guess living through the attack will have to do.”

  “Be nice to our guest,” Reva’s mother chided as she walked in with a glass of water, a pot of tea, and a few slices of berry-nut bread on a tray. Reva tried to take one of the slices but Aeollas slapped her hand away.

  Aeollas set the tray down on a side table. “I’m sure Cas would have caught him.”

  Reva shot a look at her mother while Ansee wilted. Even Reva’s mother thinks I messed up. I was lost in my own world and was surprised by the attack and then couldn’t ever get the initiative.

  “What?” asked Aeollas. “Did she tell you that she sat up with you all night?”

  “Mother, he doesn’t need to know that,” Reva sighed.

  “Pish. Yes he does. Cas would have asked about your welfare first.” Her tone of voice made it clear that she thought Cas was clearly the better elf.

  “You did?” Ansee asked.

  “I had to make sure my partner would live to tell me what the hell happened. It was no big deal.” Reva dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand.

  Ansee got the hint and said, “He attacked me without warning. I think he was on the roof of the cacao house and leapt down on me.”

  Reva nodded. They had several witnesses that said they saw somebody jump from the roof. She leaned against the wall and folded her arms, waiting for Ansee to continue. Aeollas, sensing she wasn’t needed at the moment, left the room.

  “The only reason I’m alive is because I had cast a triggered shield spell in the morning after our interview with Cedres. It’s a habit I picked up while serving in Nul Pfeta, I guess.”

  “That’s a good habit to keep,” Reva commented.

  “Oh, I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon,” Ansee agreed. He proceeded to describe the fight as best as he could remember it. Reva listened, nodding her head from time to time when Ansee described something that matched what the witnesses said.

  Ansee stuck to the details of the fight and was finished in about five minutes. He took a sip of water and grabbed one of the slices of bread while Reva stood and chewed on the end of a lock of her hair, lost in thought. After about a minute, she let her arm drop and said, “Try and keep all that straight; you still need to give a formal report later on.”

  Ansee sighed and nodded, “Parchmentwork.”

  “We couldn’t survive without it,” Reva agreed. “What I don’t get is his motive for attacking you.”

  Ansee had thought the same thing during the fight and again now, while he’d recounted everything to Reva. “It’s like the attack was personal,” Ansee said. “I mean, it was very personal for me, but I think the attack on me was more for personal reasons rather than just because I am a Constable trying to solve a crime.”

  “Halpbloed lover,” Reva said, repeating what the killer had called Ansee during the fight. “Not, ‘you won’t stop me, Constable,’ or some similar rag criminals always say. How would he know that?”

  Ansee shrugged as he took another bite of bread. He didn’t know.

  “Hey, don’t get crumbs on my bed.”

  “Sorry,” Ansee said, causing a few more crumbs to fall. He’d flicked them off of the bed before realizing it and said sorry again after a glare of disapproval from Reva.

  “Where’s my stuff?” Ansee asked, trying to change the subject.

  Reva walked across the room and set Gabii to perch on the back of the chair. “Yeah…so your armor and shirt were pretty much ruined in the attack. And the healer had to cut the rest of it off to get to your wounds.”

  Ansee nodded. He’d figured that had happened.

  “Your trousers and puttee were soaked in blood, as was your cloak. I sent them to be cleaned, but it will take some time. Your bracers, dagger, and other things are in the dining room.”

  “I can’t go out just wearing this, Inspector.” Ansee tugged on the nightshirt he was wearing. He idly wondered who it belonged to. He also blushed again as he realized it was the only thing he was wearing and that Inspector Lunaria had seen him in this state. Maybe she had even dressed him.

  “I sent Willem to your flat to get fresh clothes and things. They’re over there.” She pointed to a clothes tree sitting by the window. “I think you owe Willem a pint of beer or something. Apparently your fire salamander ‘attacked’ him,” she gestured with her fingers, “and ‘he’s lucky to be alive’—his words.”

  “Yeah, Ember can be overly affectionate when she’s been cooped up for a long time. I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm; she just loses control of herself from time to time. Especially with strangers.”

  “Hey. You don’t need to apologize to me about weird pets,” she jerked a thumb at Gabii, who’d been quietly preening herself. Sensing that she was now the topic of discussion, she said, “Reva is sexy! Reva is sexy!”

  “Hush, you.”

  Ansee couldn’t help but laugh and Reva joined in. “Now that you are awake I’ll let you get dressed. We have a lot to do today and Aescel will only let his Constables lie around for so long, even if they just survived an attempt on their life.”

  Reva walked out of her room to let Ansee get dressed, closing the door behind her. She peeked into the dining area to see if her mom was there; she wasn’t. Good.

  Reva pulled the small tin box of Wake out of a pocket, pinching out a large portion of the powder. She inhaled, letting the Wake course through her system and jolt her senses.

  She looked at the tin with a depressed sigh. She’d had to take a couple of hits during the night while watching over Ansee. The tin was almost empty now. I don’t remember going through this stuff this fast before. I must be getting old. If the case dragged on, she’d need to get some more from Yasmin.

  She put the tin back into her pocket and walked into the kitchen to make her own tea. She’d have preferred hot cacao, but she could never make it as good as Iliam did. We’ll just have to stop on the way to New Port. And since Ansee was attacked there it’s not like we won’t be on the job.

  The bell to mother’s shop jingled as Reva was cutting a slice of the berry-nut bread.

  “She’s upstairs, Constable,” Aeollas said.

  A moment later Senior Constable Ghrellstone appeared at the top of the stairs. “Mornin’, Inspector.” His eyes focused on the bread in Reva’s hands. “That looks good.”

  “Here.” She handed Willem the uneaten bread. He took it without question and she turned to cut another slice.

  “How’s the burn?” she asked as Ansee came out of her room.

  Willem turned and glared at the Seeker. “I’ll live…barely.” He pointed a finger at Ansee. “You should put that monster in a box when you’re not home.”

  Ansee saw a bright red blotch of skin on Willem’s neck. Apparently Ember had been waiting in one of her favorite perches above the door. She liked to leap down and surprise Ansee there, especially if he’d been gone for a long time.

  “I’ve tried that,” Ansee replied. “She just got mad and set it on fire, so I let her have the run of the place. Besides, she was just saying hi. She gets lonely when I’m gone.”

  Willem looked like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. He turned back to Reva. “We need to get going, ma’am. I was just informed that there’s been another killin’. This time at Pfeta fey Orung.”

  Reva and Ansee exchanged a look. So much for my cup of cacao, thought Reva.

  Twenty-two

  It took the three of them about twenty minutes to reach the massive trees in Old Grove that was the location of Pfeta
fey Orung. During the walk, Senior Constable Ghrellstone had filled Reva and Ansee in on the few details that he knew. The victim was Olea Aucarii, the head of Pfeta fey Orung. His body had been discovered by Roya Locera, the archivist, who’d come in early to get some work done before Ansee was to arrive.

  This required an explanation by Ansee that he’d only gotten through some of the sword pedigrees yesterday and was supposed to go through more of them today. Ansee should have said more, but the news of this latest murder had hit him hard. The thought that Aucarii’s death could have been prevented if he’d just done more in the fight yesterday kept running through his head. I should have stopped this mad-elf, Ansee silently reproached himself.

  The three Constables turned into the square in front of Pfeta fey Orung. It was filled with people all craning their necks to get a look at the door. Reva noticed that the majority of the bystanders wore one of the three pins representing their rank within Pfeta fey Orung. There were a lot of small conversations going on, and as soon as an elf spotted Reva they began to volley questions at her.

  “Constable!” called a female elf with a long braid of hair hanging over her right shoulder. “What is going on? Why can’t we get into the building?”

  “Inspector!” bellowed an elf wearing magistrate’s robes. “I demand that you let me in! There are important documents inside that I must have!”

  “Inspector!” yelled a willowy elf in a purple vest. “Why haven’t you stopped this maniac? How many more of our members must die before you do something?”

  Reva ignored all the questions and pushed her way through the chaos. The Wake had heightened all of her senses and she could feel a current of anger in the crowd. Other conversations reached her as they made their way toward the entrance.

  “The Constables are fools. The King should put the Sucra in charge; they’ll find this killer and deal with him.”