Chapter 1 #2
Luka turned his attention back to the soldier. “What made you come out here, Sergeant Dashiell?” It was at least half a mile from the nearest city buildings, and this path wasn’t on any city watch rounds that Luka was aware of.
Dashiell’s eyes flicked toward the body. “I saw a light and decided to follow it, sir.”
All the way out here? In the bleak, windswept darkness? “What kind of light?”
Dashiell clasped his hands behind his back in formal rest. “Lamplight, I assume, sir. It was hard to tell in the mist.” He answered politely, but there was clearly more he’d held back.
Luka leaned back on his heels and waited, letting the silence drag.
Usually it worked. Usually people filled silence—even sergeants.
But not Dashiell. Perhaps his training was too good.
Perhaps he was a man of few words. Luka knew enough of the city guards that he’d seen the man before, but not enough to know truly who he was.
They watched each other in silence for long moments, until Luka grunted and stood. “Please tell me everything that happened,” he prompted. “Any detail might help.”
Dashiell tilted his head to the side in a tiny movement. Scales the deep purple of Azel gems—or ripe mulberries—flickered at his throat. Luka couldn’t see the man’s wrists, but he would bet scales made a ring of bright armor there too.
“My mother lives in Naos, near the entrance to the path,” Dashiell admitted quietly.
She was very poor then. Naos was a ramshackle warren of tenements and storehouses, filled with sailors, prostitutes, and the desperate of the city.
Close to the docks. Close to the drifting mists and the dark side of the mountain where no one else wanted to live.
And the roads leading to the Nabaspath were the least desirable of all.
Luka’s beast rolled over, unsettled, and he resisted the urge to scribe a quick spiral-ward—a dragon biting its own tail—in the air. He had grown up in Naos. Which, despite the queen’s increasing efforts since she’d taken the throne, remained almost as destitute and hopeless as ever.
He looked more closely at the sergeant, wondering if they might have known each other. He didn’t think so. Dashiell was a few years younger, and Luka had left a long time ago.
“I was worried about my mother,” Dashiell explained, perhaps misreading Luka’s scrutiny. “She survived the red-scale sickness, but it damaged her joints. She had to leave her job as a midwife at the Twins’ Temple, and now she’s alone.” His eyes narrowed. “The city isn’t safe enough.”
Luka nodded slowly. That was undoubtedly true, it wasn’t safe enough, especially on this side. And then there were the deaths….
Firebreather.
Firebreather, yes. And strange disappearances. Although those ended around the time Rayan…. He pushed that thought away. He didn’t have time for old grief.
“I was in a hurry,” Dashiell continued, unaware of Luka’s moment of distraction. “I needed to get back to my rounds. But my mam’s joints were bothering her. The damp is a problem.”
Luka would bet that was a severe understatement; she was probably in constant, debilitating pain. Most people who caught the red-scale sickness didn’t survive.
“There are large clumps of nettles here,” Dashiell said. “I planned to collect a few handfuls to make a poultice. Mam swears by nettles for heat and swelling, and I hoped it might help. I walked along the path, but it was all brambles. I was about to give up, but then I saw the light.”
“And you followed it?” Luka was impressed. It would take bravery to follow this path in the dark, especially if there were strange lights.
“Only criminals would be out here. I couldn’t just leave them, especially not so close to my mam’s house.
” Dashiell shifted slightly onto his heels.
“I guess they saw my light just as I saw theirs. The light disappeared—perhaps shuttered. I jogged closer, looking for any sign of who they were. And then I saw her.”
“Did you see anyone nearby? Or anything else? Maybe a weapon?”
“No, sir. I heard someone running, but I stayed here in case she needed help. As soon as I realized she was dead, I ran down the path toward where I saw the light. But it was empty by then.” Dashiell grimaced.
“I saw you going into the tavern near the docks when I patrolled past earlier. It was unusual enough that I noticed. And… I hoped you would know what we should do.”
Did anyone know what to do in this situation? Luka took a deep breath. He had to figure this out, and fast. He caught Dashiell’s eye. “Look for a weapon now, please, Sergeant.”
Dashiell turned away to search the rough coastal path, carefully lifting the lace bushes to check underneath, stepping around brambles to avoid the sharp thorns, and rifling through the grasses.
It was unlikely he would find anything in the dim pool of lamplight.
Even less likely there was anything to find, but they had to check.
Luka shrugged off his long leather coat—leaving him in his silver embossed castle tunic, breeches and well-worn boots—and used it to cover Narya’s body.
He tucked it close, especially over her face, like macabre swaddling.
He didn’t like leaving her with the mist settling on her skin.
Then he joined the sergeant, lifting his lantern high to check in widening circles, until there was nothing but cliff face dropping away to the crashing sea on one side and rising mountain foothills on the other.
His thoughts churned as he searched. It was unusual for him to come into the city these days.
He worked and he slept, and he did both within the castle walls.
But tonight, the feast was excruciating.
Senior officers of recalled regiments and city dignitaries had thronged the Flame Hall, enjoying a glittering, opulent banquet.
There were hundreds of people, and yet the only one he’d hoped would come had not appeared.
And Shane was flirting loudly enough to wake the gods.
Even the dance troupe with their drums and shakers hadn’t muted the prince’s revelry; he’d simply laughed louder.
Luka had no plans to seduce anyone, and watching it unfold was exhausting. He never drank while he was on duty, and he’d certainly felt like he was working. The revelry left him feeling older than he could remember… and more wounded. He was missing something. Some part of himself that he had lost.
You know exactly what we’re missing, his beast noted acidly. He ignored it, as usual.
As soon as the party wound down and the most important guests were escorted to their rooms, he handed duty over to Captain Ryland of the night guard and escaped.
For the first time in months, he fled the castle.
Moving without really thinking, his feet took him back to the tavern his father drank in, and his grandfather before him.
They were both long gone. His mother gone even earlier.
But the loneliness churning inside him had driven him back to the place of his first memories.
And thank the gods his feet had brought him down this way. That Dashiell saw him and thought to get him. That he had this chance to deal with this nightmare. And it was a nightmare, that was certain.
The scales along his arms settled into gilded vambraces as his beast growled, low and deep in his belly. This could start a war.
The hairs rose on the back of Luka’s neck, despite his scales. He was the knight commander. If it came to it, it was up to him to make sure that didn’t happen.
They searched thoroughly but found nothing.
Whoever had committed this crime was long gone, and they had left nothing except Narya’s body.
There was no benefit to hunting through the dark any further.
It was time to get back to the castle and warn the crown marshal—his commander and friend—Prince Shane.
Luka lifted the dead woman into his arms and nodded for Dashiell to follow him off the mountain.
They had a long night ahead.