Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  Ansee shrugged, walking into the kitchen. He checked the cabinets and shelves. He found nothing except what one would expect to find. He glanced at the wine bottles—all were moderately expensive, judging by the labels. Certainly more than he could afford on a Seeker’s pay.

  “Where do you think he gets his money?” he asked, looking in more cabinets. “Even simple potions can cost ten or more Crowns, and the replica of the Fury Blade had to be expensive.”

  Reva was pulling books off of the shelves quickly, scanning the titles, and then replacing them. “Maybe Pfeta fey Orung pays really well,” she offered. “It’s more likely that wealthy elves commission him for family histories.” Most of the books were poetry, with some on family lore and Tenyl history. She saw some authors who she associated with a more vehemently anti-halpbloeden view of history.

  Finishing his search of the kitchen, Ansee opened the small door. It opened on an indoor water closet with a stool, wash basin, and chamber pot. It took less than a minute to search. He closed the door and opened the door at the end of the hall. This appeared to be the master bedroom. It was furnished with a four-poster bed with thick curtains pulled back and tied up for the summer. A wardrobe stood against the right wall and a nightstand stood to the left of the bed, a tallow candle in a pewter candlestick and a book of poetry sitting on top.

  The bed was hurriedly made, the covers simply pulled up, with large wrinkles and folds. Roya was apparently not a stickler for neatness with the bedding.

  Ansee knelt to look under the bed. Dust coated the floor but there was also a wide chest. Pulling it out, Ansee opened the lid before he realized his mistake. If Roya were this killer, and this was where he hid his stuff, then it might have been set with a trap. Luckily, there was no puff of poison gas and no dart shot out. The chest only held a few blankets and quilts folded haphazardly and stuffed into the chest. Sliding it back under the bed, he then lifted the mattress as high as he could. The ropes stretching between the bedframe sagged a bit, but there was nothing hidden there.

  Ansee replaced the mattress and opened the wardrobe. Clothes, boots, belts, and hats, some simple jewelry, boot polish, and clothing brushes. Nothing incriminating. With a sigh, he put everything back and then left the bedroom.

  “This is starting to feel like a wild hare chase,” he commented, returning to the front room. Reva had moved on and was over by the other door. She was walking into the room, then stepping out, then back in, looking at the wall.

  “Got something?” asked Ansee.

  Instead of answering, she gestured for Ansee to come over. Ansee did so, seeing that this room was decorated as a second bedroom, but with a decidedly feminine feel to it. The bed was smaller and neatly made, the sheet had a lace fringe, and the bed curtains were a light blue color. A white painted wardrobe with a trim of vines and berries sat against the left wall. Against the back wall sat a table beneath a small window. Walking over, Ansee saw a hairbrush and pots labeled for makeup. Everything had a thin coating of dust.

  “Roya isn’t married,” Ansee said. “That I know of.”

  There was a scraping sound, and he turned to see Reva pulling a chest out from under the bed. It was larger than the blanket chest, rougher in appearance.

  “I think this room belonged to his sister,” she said.

  “Past tense?”

  In reply, Reva blew away the dust from the top of the chest. It was painted a light green, the edges chipped and worn. There appeared to be a name painted on the lid in gold letters.

  “Aeronna Locera,” Reva read. “It’s locked.”

  She stood up to give Ansee room, returning to look at the left wall and the wardrobe. She stuck a strand of hair between her lips, sucking on it gently.

  Ansee knelt by the chest, holding his left hand toward the lock, palm out. “Bu kilidi açmak,” he incanted. Greenish smoke drifted from his hand and floated into the lock. There was an audible click and the smoke faded. Ansee opened the chest and let out a soft whistle.

  Reva turned around and looked over Ansee’s shoulder, her eyes widening a bit at the contents. On top was a sheathed dagger, the scabbard polished bronze and red leather with three large opal gemstones. The hilt was brass with a red and black cord grip and a warhawk head on the pommel. Reva picked up the weapon, noticing the fine crafts-elfship. She slid the blade out of its scabbard by half a hand and saw that it was sharp, well-polished, and double-edged.

  Under the dagger was a traveling cloak—brown wool with green trim. Runes were embroidered on the trim in a silver-white thread. “It’s a cloak of protection,” Ansee said. “From the runes, I’d say it would be as good as our leather armor, maybe even ring mail.” He lifted it out, a dark brown stain coating the left front of the cloak. Reva fingered a hole in the cloak.

  “Apparently, it wasn’t protection enough.”

  Ansee laid the cloak on the end of the bed. Underneath were a couple of books, a large book a hand thick and about two hands wide by three tall. A large iron clasp held the book closed. Undoing the clasp, Ansee confirmed his guess. “Spellbook,” he said.

  The other book was smaller, something that might easily fit into a large pocket or a pack. It was a second spellbook—travel size. Ansee thumbed through it. He read the magical script and recognized many common spells that were useful for people heading into dangerous places.

  Reva shifted aside some scroll cases and a couple of wands. She opened up a smaller chest at the bottom to find a couple of copperish-colored coins. They weren’t Acorns and looked to have dwarvish markings. “I think Aeronna was an adventurer,” she said.

  Ansee nodded. “Based on the room and this chest, I’d say she was killed while adventuring.”

  “Depending on how skilled she was, and the group she traveled with, she might have done fairly well for herself. That could explain where Roya got his money.”

  “She was skilled,” Ansee said, thumbing through the smaller spellbook. “She knew a lot of complex magic. But it doesn’t prove that Roya’s our killer. Many elves have relatives that decided to become adventurers. The lure of easy gold and fame is too strong for many.”

  Reva stood up and faced the left wall. “How wide would you say this room is?”

  Ansee set the spellbooks back into the chest and looked at the room. “I don’t know. Maybe four and a half paces.”

  Reva walked up to the wardrobe. “And what about Roya’s room?”

  Ansee thought for a moment. “About the same I guess. It could be a bit wider.” He started to catch on as Reva grabbed the wardrobe on the left side and pulled. Instead of dragging on the floorboards, it slid open on hidden hinges.

  Shelves had been attached to the back of the wardrobe. They held a variety of vials, with several empty slots, but there were still over two dozen ceramic vials in the slots. Each was neatly labeled—gaseous form, healing, cloudwall, and others. They all bore the same maker’s mark in the wax seal covering the cork stopper.

  Within the small alcove created by the false wall were tacked dozens of scraps of parchment, all with names or other details written on them. Twine wound around the tacks from one to the next, all centered on a parchment that read “Pfeta fey Orung.” There were scraps with the names of Lavalé fey Avecath, Tala Ochroma, and Olea Aucarii—these three names had all been crossed off. She saw a scrap labeled with the name of Nyssa Betulla, and at least a dozen other names she didn’t recognize. There was one scrap marked with question marks and the word head. It had several lengths of twine leading from it to others. At the top of this web of parchment and twine a letter was tacked, the ink fading, the edges torn and ragged. The ink had been smeared in placed by drops of something. Rain? Reva thought. Or tears?

  She read the letter aloud:

  “Roya. It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I must write to you of your sister’s death. She, and several members of our party, were led into a
n ambush by one of our own: Alceeda Avecath—the very elf who’d befriended us all at Pfeta fey Orung and begged us to join him on this venture! Please know that Aeronna fought bravely and did your family honor, managing to save both myself and Torthwynn, but she fell from the traitor’s arrow and died in my arms. We could not bring her body back but gave it a proper burial. I am returning her possessions to you. We are in haste now to catch the traitor and I will tell you all when I return. Signed, Lathshii.”

  “Lathshii never did return to tell me what happened.” The voice was calm, sad. It startled both Ansee and Reva. They whirled around to see Roya Locera standing in the doorway.

  “But that didn’t stop me from learning the truth.”

  Thirty-six

  Reva quickly drew her sword. “You’re under arrest, Locera.” She took a step toward the door, while Ansee drew one of his throwing daggers.

  Roya wore dark green trousers and a white shirt. He still had sleeve protectors on, suggesting that he’d rushed home from work. He didn’t appear threatening, or even concerned. Ignoring Reva, he walked into the front room. Reva followed him. He walked into the kitchen, picking out a walnut from the bowl. He casually proceeded to crack open the shell.

  “Our parents never approved of what Aeronna did,” he commented, putting the nut in his mouth. “They thought that she should stay home and practice magic here—open a nice little shop - but she loved the thrill of adventuring.” He looked up, eyes focused behind Reva, looking into the past.

  “We were all saddened when she died. Mom was so devastated that she withdrew into herself, so overcome with grief and anguish that she died a month later of a broken heart. Father went to confront Alceeda’s father—he wasn’t First Magistrate then—threatening to expose his son’s treachery in the deaths, but he fell to his death from the top of Pfeta fey Orung, under rather mysterious circumstances, some believed.” Roya picked up another walnut.

  “So you took it upon yourself to get revenge for your sister’s death?” Reva asked. Ansee stood in the doorway to Aeronna’s room.

  “Not at first. I was devastated, too, but triply so now, with the deaths of my parents as well. I also had no proof. Sure, I had the letter, and it provided me with my suspicions, but without a witness I knew that I would need more. As luck would have it, Inspector,” Roya focused his attention on Reva, “your father gave me what I needed.”

  “My father?” Reva’s sword tip lowered.

  “Around that time your father came to me for assistance. It seemed that LCI Gania had heard rumors that there was a secret order within Pfeta fey Orung, an order of dark elf sympathizers. Elves who claimed dark elf ancestry and were proud of it.” Roya sneered at the word, incredulous that any elf could ever be proud of such a thing.

  “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but your father and the LCI managed to convince me. Gania had ordered your father to infiltrate this secret group and they needed my help to create a convincing family tree, showing that your father had the right credentials—the right blood.”

  “So you forged the family tree for him?” Reva asked. She tried sounding calm, not letting the relief she felt show in her voice. It’s a fake. And Locera can prove it. Prove that I don’t have any dark elf ancestry.

  Ansee now moved around toward the door to the flat. He looked at Reva. Was that relief he detected in her voice? How did she know about the family tree? Had she seen it in Pfeta fey Orung? He didn’t like where this was going. Roya was stalling for something. “So you helped the Constabulary in the past,” he said. “You’re still a murderer. You’ve killed six people and assaulted a Constable.”

  Roya smiled, tossing the walnut shell onto the counter. “You are wrong, halpbloed lover. I’ve not killed anyone. I’ve exterminated vermin infesting our city. Like the rat catcher, I am doing this city a service.” He glared at Ansee, reaching for another walnut, then paused, resting his hand on the bowl.

  “After your father’s death, I knew I had to move slowly. I was the only one alive who was able to stop them. I took my time to learn what I could about the group and prepare. I dug through the archives and did my own research. I eventually confirmed that Avecath, Aucarii, and all the others were halpbloeden—dark elves. I hatched my plan and struck at Lavalé first, finally getting my revenge for his son’s foul deeds.”

  “How did my father die?” The question slipped out, she couldn’t help it. There was so much she didn’t know about her father’s death. He’d died on duty—trying to stop a robbery at a pub that had turned into a brawl and general melee—but who’d killed him had never been found out, his killer never caught. Reva had investigated the case herself—against orders—and it was too neat, too professional. She had her suspicions, but no proof, nothing that Aescel or a Magistrate would ever accept, and she’d been forced to shelve the case and move on. But if he’d been spying on this cabal of elves, could that be the reason for his murder?

  Roya had said that Reva’s father had been working with LCI Gania. On something this important it meant that probably only the two of them knew of the mission. And Roya. With the LCI dead, Roya was now the only link to her father’s killer.

  Roya turned to Reva, saying, “I don’t know. They bought our ruse, I know that. They believed that he was one of them for years.”

  Years? Reva thought. How much about her father did she not know? Roya’s now the key to learning everything.

  “Knowing dark elves, they must have learned that he was spying on them and had him killed. They kept up his family tree in their secret room, so maybe they thought that he was one of them, but just a traitor to their cause. Who knows?” He pulled another walnut out, but didn’t open it.

  “Inspector,” Ansee prompted, “let’s finish this at New Port.” He didn’t like how long this was taking, or that it appeared that Locera was playing with Reva’s feelings for her father. How do we know that any of what he’s saying is the truth?

  Roya laughed. “I’m not going with you, halpbloed lover. My task is far from finished.”

  This appeared to jolt Reva from her own thoughts. She pointed her sword at Roya. “You’re under arrest. Put your hands up.”

  Roya complied, lifting his hands, but he flashed a condescending smile at Reva. “The head must be cut from the body. It’s the only way to end this.” He then flung the walnut he’d been holding to the floor.

  Too late, Reva realized that it wasn’t a walnut.

  The Bang Stone struck the floor, brilliant white light filling the room, along with a deafening explosion. Both Reva and Ansee were blinded by the light and stunned by the noise. Roya moved quickly, running back into Aeronna’s bedroom.

  Reva blinked several times, trying to recover her vision. She saw small patches of black wherever she looked and her ears were still ringing. She caught sight of Locera as he ran to the bedroom and staggered after him.

  Roya pulled a vial from the back of the wardrobe, flinging it toward Reva. It hit the floor and shattered. Thick fog billowed out, rapidly filling the room.

  Reva staggered and rushed blindly toward the alcove, hoping to catch Roya there. She hit the wall hard, but didn’t find Roya. As quickly as it had come, the fog dissolved away into thin air. Ansee stood in the doorway, having just finished casting his spell.

  “Did he get past you?” Reva asked, her voice sounding distant as the ringing in her ears faded.

  “He didn’t come this way.”

  “Damn,” she swore. Looking at the rack of potions, she saw that more vials were missing, including at least a couple of the gaseous forms.

  She sheathed her sword with a violent thrust. Damn you, Reva. You let him get in your head. You fucked this up, royally.

  Walking to the bed, she grabbed one of the pillows. Pulling out her dagger, she sliced through the stitching on one end and pulled out the stuffing. Tossing the empty pillowcase to Ansee, she said, “Let’s col
lect all that evidence.” She pointed to the wardrobe. “We’ll need it to figure out Locera’s next move.”

  “Shouldn’t we call in Alchemist Bromide or tell FC Aescel?”

  “We’re off the case, remember? If LCI Betulla learns what we’re doing she’ll come down on us like a ton of rocks, along with anybody helping us. No, if we’re going to catch Locera we need to do it ourselves. Then, when we’ve caught him and have all the evidence, including the sword and mask, Aescel will back us up.”

  Ansee nodded, pulling potions off the rack and filling the pillowcase. Reva pulled out her notebook and began sketching the diagram and twine on the wall. She needed to get everything down before they pulled it off the wall.

  † † †

  From his hiding place across from the flat, Malvaceä waited a few moments before deciding on his next move. Just a few minutes ago, he’d seen Roya Locera return home. Olsteinan had wanted to grab him then so that they could complete their mission, but Malvaceä had ordered him to stop. He was curious as to how this would play out.

  When he heard the Bang Stone go off, he figured that Lunaria had screwed things up for him. She had, in a way; Malvaceä had caught sight of a thin mist, almost indistinguishable from a cloud but drifting against the breeze, leave the flat. She’d let Roya get away, which was good for him, but it would be harder to track him down now.

  He turned to Aaron. “When they come out, follow them. Let me know where they go and who they meet with.”

  “And you, sir?” Aaron asked, nodding his understanding.

  “I’m heading back to the Red Keep. We’re going to have to play this one on the run and I need to make preparations. Olsteinan,” he turned to face the other elf, “learn everything you can about Locera. We need to know more about what is driving this elf.”

  Olsteinan nodded and walked across the street. He’d start with the landlord and go from there.