Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘Quite the situation,’ Lillus whispered.

  ‘We’ll have to leave Tryum immediately. I need some messages putting about the city if you could manage that for me?’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  ‘I would like it said that I have been called back to Venyn City on urgent Sun Chamber business, but will return shortly. Meanwhile, I would appreciate it if you contact the priest of Ptrell and let him know that the priestess was found dead some time ago. He needs peace of mind, at least, but please urge him that it’s in his interest not to press the matter further.’

  ‘This is simple enough.’

  ‘I have a member of staff back at home, Bellona, who is a fantastic cook. Should she find herself out of a home, can I send her to you? I’ll see that you’re paid, of course.’

  ‘I was thinking of branching out, as it happens, into the culinary business. That fabric stall is useless. Is she good?’

  ‘Incredible,’ I replied.

  ‘Though my female customers are plentiful, I need more men to come here, and too few appreciate good-quality fabric. Filling their guts on nice food, however, is good for business.’

  ‘Thank you, Lillus. I truly appreciate the favours.’

  He dismissed my thanks casually. ‘The least I can do. Will you return to Tryum soon?’

  ‘I will, but I don’t know how long I’ll be. I need to meet up with the Sun Chamber in the safety of the countryside and wait for their guidance.’

  Lillus gave a gentle grin. ‘To see the boy grow is a marvellous thing.’

  ‘Well, the boy might stop growing if the king’s men get hold of him,’ I replied. ‘Lillus, there’s one final thing, one more message. There was a woman I once knew, who I was lucky enough to meet again.’

  ‘You found love at least!’ Lillus declared, beaming now. ‘Tell me of her name.’

  ‘She’s called Titiana.’

  Lillus frowned. ‘Describe her, if you will.’

  I did, giving details of her physical appearance and of her character.

  Lillus nodded slowly. ‘And how did you meet her?’

  ‘She was dancing at a tavern that Senator Veron took me to.’ I told him of the evening and how I used to know her.

  ‘My guess is,’ Lillus continued, ‘that she told you she was a poor lady?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘And did she dress like a poor lady?’

  ‘Well, not quite . . . I assumed she wore her best clothing when she came see me. Lillus, please, if you know of her, tell me.’

  ‘I don’t know her, but the name is familiar to me – because she, too, works in the information business. She sometimes dances, sometimes is a courtesan. She spent some time in the theatre, learning the dark arts of acting and of disguise. She comes and goes. Information is a dirty business.’

  I placed my head in my hands. ‘Blinded,’ I breathed.

  ‘If Veron was blabbering about where he was going that night, it would have been easy for her to find you and make it look as if you were the one to find her. Who set her on you, is the question.’

  ‘Probably on the king’s orders,’ I sighed. ‘He would have sent someone to get close to me, to observe my movements. To see if I was getting close to solving the matter or still had no clue. It was a good plan, come to think of it. It meant he remained in control of matters.’

  ‘You investigate criminal affairs,’ Lillus said, ‘you’re not a spy. You weren’t to know, my boy. You weren’t the first to be fooled – you won’t be the last.’

  ‘No, but I should have known at least. I just assumed she was interested in me.’

  ‘Again, you are not the first to make such assumptions. I have learned, over the years, that those who show the most interest are often the ones not to trust. What was that message you wanted me to send?’

  ‘Forget about it. There’s one last thing you could help with though.’ Rising, I reached into my pocket and produced the sketch found within the book in Lacanta’s room. ‘What do you make of this?’

  Lillus moved to catch the light of the sun, and scrutinized the document for what seemed a frustratingly long time. ‘Clever,’ he breathed. ‘Forgotten language, these symbols. The old tongue, dead letters. It’s the outline of one corner of our nation – the symbols spell out Detrata. The little triangles, I cannot say what they are for, but I have known them to be used to signify problems, perhaps places to stay away from.’

  ‘I found it in a book in Lacanta’s room.’

  Lillus reconsidered his initial statements on the matter. ‘I think she was too clever and forgot where she had hidden this. She could have others, but remembered to take those.’

  ‘Where do you think she could have gone?’ I asked.

  ‘Where do you think?’ he responded, glancing down at the map once again.

  ‘There were books on Destos. It’s a holiday area for the rich. She might have gone on holiday there as a child, but—’

  ‘She might have fled there,’ he interrupted. ‘This looks like Destos now you have said the name. The coast is shaped just so . . .’ He outlined it with his fingers. ‘But if she has gone there, it is impossible to tell where.’

  We conferred for a moment longer, but this was all I had to go on. A coded draft she’d left behind by accident.

  I stood up, embraced Lillus, and thanked him for his company, his help and the favours. He said his messages would be spread quickly and with discretion, and I had to believe him – there was no one else to trust. He wished me luck and kissed my cheek.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time we made our way back to the house. I seethed with anger and frustration. I had simply let Titiana walk into my life and there she was reporting my affairs to someone else. The irony of me spotting those con men in the tavern during dinner, while I was busy being conned myself, was not lost on me.

  But that was not what bothered me the most.

  I somehow felt that all her gestures and her words of affection had been honest. She had me seduce her all over again before she would forgive my past actions towards her. Surely she would not have bothered to go through all that effort if there was nothing genuine inside her heart?

  Leana stopped me with an outstretched arm, and steered me towards a doorway of a pottery shop. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘On the gate.’

  The entrance to my gardens, some fifty paces away, appeared slightly different, and eventually my eyes settled on what it was.

  On one of the spikes was a human head.

  A small crowd stood before it, pointing up in disgust. With discretion we stepped nearer and I saw, glistening in the late afternoon sun, that it was the severed head of Constable Farrum.

  I immediately thought of his poor family, his now fatherless children. Someone in the gathered crowd vomited against the wall and while everyone was too busy avoiding the mess, we stepped along the pathway to my house. Leana drew her sword, as did I.

  The door was open, the entrance was covered in blood.

  We first stepped past what I assumed was Farrum’s body – he had been not only decapitated, but there were several wounds to his torso. He hadn’t even had time to draw his sword before he was killed.

  I closed my eyes listening for anyone else in the house, but it seemed utterly silent. Under the open-roofed hallway, by the central pool of water, we found another dead man from the Civil Cohorts – his head, too, had been cleaved from his body, which hung half in the water, half out. His uniform was soaked and his severed head floated by his feet. Further into the study, two more men from the Civil Cohorts had been slaughtered, their heads still attached this time, but with several abdominal wounds. Bloody footprints trailed all around my house, slick on the tiles. There was so much of it here, it seemed impossible to gauge a sense of what might have happened.

  Leana dashed from room to room, stealthily checking whether or not there were any more bodies. I stood aghast at the carnage.

  ‘No one else so far,’ she said. ‘Not even Bellona.
Perhaps she has escaped?’

  ‘I hope so,’ I replied.

  Leana moved to the open doors to the garden, while I took a look around: nothing had been disturbed from my study. Books remained on the shelves, papers piled neatly where they had been left. Leana called out my name and I ran outside into the garden.

  She cautioned me before I stepped out into the sunlit space, shading my eyes.

  ‘Oh, Polla . . .’ I breathed, my voice catching in my throat. ‘Oh please, Polla. Please, no . . .’

  I fell to my knees.

  There, hanging by her neck from the edge of the rooftop, was Titiana. She, too, had been cut open and blood had pooled beneath, glistening in the light.

  I am not ashamed to say I wept then – tears of rage and of despair. I heaved myself to my feet, dragged a couch up to her body and climbed up to cut the rope connecting her neck to the masonry.

  Her beautiful face was covered in bruises, her eyes shut to the world.

  Leana helped me lower her body to the ground.

  I collapsed next to Titiana’s lifeless form, cradling her head, smelling her blood-soaked hair. I kissed her forehead, and rocked back and forth without a clue what to do next.

  Leana stood over me, silhouetted in the blinding light.

  Time seemed to lose all consistency, but when my control over myself returned I knew that I could not stay there holding her for all that long.

  I wrapped Titiana’s body up in one of my finest cloaks, cleaned her face of blood, and left her in the garden along with a hastily prepared offering to Polla – hoping that it would be enough to see her through to the next realm. I kissed her lips one final time and forgave her – as she had forgiven me – for any of her actions that may have compromised my investigation. Now was not the time to bear grudges.

  After changing from my blood-soaked clothing, and washing my hands and face, Leana and I quickly packed a few belongings and prepared to leave. I was about to step out of the door when she called me back once again. I dreaded what she might have found.

  However, she had discovered Bellona hiding in a cupboard, huddling in shocked silence. Bellona did not say a word at first, but she had not been harmed and for that I was immensely relieved.

  Eventually, she managed a whisper. ‘The soldiers came. King’s men. They dragged the lady into the house. They said where is he, where is he, and she screamed she didn’t know. I hid here and closed my eyes . . .’

  ‘It is OK.’ Leana held her so she might be soothed, and gave me a look of desperation that I shared with her.

  But we urgently needed to go.

  Leana lifted Bellona up to her feet. I gave her directions to Lillus’ salon, and told her that he would look after her. ‘Be strong. And for your own safety, you must be quick,’ I added. ‘Do you understand?’

  She squirmed a nod, tears still streaming down her face. I wished I could guide her there myself, but I no longer had the time.

  After she gathered her belongings, I guided her to the door and placed a small purse of coins in her pocket. ‘Tell him what happened, but tell him I’m safe.’ We steered her down the path and she wailed when she saw Farrum’s head on the gate.

  Leana grabbed a shoulder bag of her belongings and I picked up mine.

  With our swords visible, we marched down the blood-splattered path, past Farrum’s severed head, and into the streets.

  Finally confident we were not being followed, we proceeded through the backstreets, navigating our way towards the South Gate, through Vellyum and then Plutum, losing ourselves in the intensity of the crowds.

  I felt numb. My mind was a mess and sweat streamed down my face. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Leana. The vision of Titiana’s hanging body could not be released from my mind. Why did she have to die? Was her death a warning to me, a way to make me fall apart?

  I vowed to myself, in the presence of Polla, that her death would not go without justice being served.

  As we saw the limits of the city approach, the high wall that kept separated the urban sprawl from the countryside, Leana took me to one side. ‘If the king looks for us, he will have let these soldiers on the gate know about us.’

  I looked around, trying to read the crowd for any followers. ‘That’s a good point. We should find a cart – a heavily loaded one, or possibly one that stinks.’

  ‘You want us to ride on a cart?’

  ‘No, underneath it. If it’s not worth the hassle, the soldiers won’t bother searching it and will wave us through.’

  We waited for the better part of an hour until a trader came along the road, taking out rotting manure from the city stables to spread on the farmland beyond. I offered him ten pecullas – five now and five on the other side – which wasn’t much as far as bribes went, but he was poor enough for it to make a difference. His wide cart reeked, but we climbed underneath, hanging on to the timber frame as the horse plodded on. The cobbled road tipped us this way and that, violently lurching over any potholes, and soon we found ourselves approaching the city walls.

  The cart rolled to a halt and my arms were already starting to ache. I closed my eyes and prayed to Polla that we would not be found. Voices came, one of them the farmer’s, the other probably that of a soldier. A foul liquid dripped through the cart and onto my sleeve.

  What was taking so long?

  A few pairs of boots shuffled back and forth around the cart.

  Eventually a whip cracked, the horse plodded forwards, the cart rolled on. I breathed out a sigh of relief as we passed the South Gate and continued rocking along the South Road out of Tryum. I held on for what felt like hours, but in reality was far less than that. We tipped up at an angle as the horse took on a hill, and it was only when we crested it and levelled out that I called out to the farmer.

  The cart rolled to a halt. We came out from underneath. I brushed myself down and paid the farmer, who continued on his way. The South Road was busy with trade and travellers, and at the base of the hill stood the contained mass of Tryum. Optryx remained a bright palace on the horizon: if the king was in there, I would find him. But not yet, not now – first I had something else to do.

  A Meeting

  We walked for miles that afternoon, trudging only for a little while along the main road, but then out onto dusty tracks to avoid any incident. Clouds provided enough cover from the sun, making the journey bearable.

  It was early evening by the time we reached the nearest settlement, a small town called Festellum. We found a small tavern with a tiny top-floor room and pretended to be a simple couple on our way to the city. It was a sparse place, with far fewer furnishings than my own home, but at least we could rest in relative peace.

  Accustomed to Bellona’s fine cooking, I was disappointed in the tavern’s offerings, but Leana pointed out that we were lucky to be alive and should be grateful we still had our heads to eat with.

  She had a point.

  That night Leana took to the floor. ‘I am now used to soft furnishings. It is not good for the soul. You have the bed.’

  I lay staring at the ceiling for some time, incredibly exhausted – in body and mind – from the day’s events. I tried to make sense of what happened. It took me a long time to dismiss the image of Titiana hanging there, devoid of life. It seemed wrong that someone so vibrant and energetic could be so . . . still.

  In my mind I turned over what Lillus had said to me, reflecting on my moments with Titiana. It seems my ego had got the better of me. I genuinely believed that her affections for me had been sincere.

  Anyway, the answer would never come, and there was no way to find out. All I had was my investigation, and my determination to find the one thing that could prove my theory about Lacanta still being alive: Lacanta herself.

  A thoroughly deep sleep came laced with melancholic dreams, which seemed to linger on during the first hour of the day. Eventually I couldn’t recall precisely what they were about, only that there was a racing chariot and a falcon circling in th
e sky above it. Perhaps if we came upon a Detratan mage or a priestess on the road it would be worthwhile checking if there was some hint buried within the hazy images.

  The sun had not quite risen and already we were preparing to leave the settlement. After acquiring food from the tavern kitchen, and a crude map from one of the other guests, we managed to buy two mares from a young couple who were heading into Tryum and needed the money.

  As dawn broke, there were already many travellers on the road, mainly traders, though a few priests – and I thought again of the poor priestess who had never made it to her temple.

  So many people go missing each week it is easy to become complacent: but I make sure I never do, conscious there is always a loved one, someone who cares, someone whose life will never be quite the same again.

  We did not arrive at the station post until the middle of the afternoon, exhausted from the heat and dust of the journey. Away from the main road the landscape had been unforgiving, and I was relieved to enter a small copse of trees and see the small, round, crenellated building, in which the Sun Chamber agent would be stationed.

  It was not widely known that these structures existed, let alone were inhabited. It was hidden among old poplar trees on the side of a small valley and we could have had trouble finding the place. There was a small stable behind the building, so any passers-by who strayed this far from the road would probably dismiss it as a farmhouse. Yet that stable was constantly active with the horses of messengers and officials passing back and forth, and a gentle river of information was always flowing.

  With immense relief we dismounted, tied our horses and banged on the door. It opened up, and an elderly man questioned who we were, so I told him.

  ‘Ah, of course, Drakenfeld,’ the man declared, before turning inside. He waved over his shoulder for us to follow. ‘Drakenfeld, the young officer from Tryum. Knew your father well. Sadly I couldn’t make the funeral, but I did visit his body. A letter you sent came through here not long ago. You’re not following it up, are you? We dispatched the messenger on a fresh horse, so he was as quick as any messenger in Vispasia.’