Chapter 7 Hunting Answers
A branch cracked. Castien unsheathed the sword at his waist and spun around. There was nothing but dried leaves and shadows.
“With how on edge you are, you might consider abandoning this reckless plan,” Finn said.
“I am not on edge,” Castien gritted out before sheathing his sword once more. He turned his gaze back to the dark path ahead. The only light was that of the stars above and the single candle Finn was carrying. They’d slipped through the passageway.
“The leaf you almost shredded begs to differ.”
“It is important to be ready to attack at any moment.” Castien shot him a dark look. “And my plans are never reckless.”
“Right, yes, because being on the other side of the Wall at night is not asking for death at all,” Finn drolled.
Perhaps Castien had put them in a rather precarious situation, but it was with good cause. They needed evidence and they were out of leads. This is all they had left.
“If we die, it will be because you are incapable of being quiet,” Castien hissed.
“I am perfectly capable, dear cousin–”
Another snap cut off Finn’s sentence. Castien pulled his sword and whirled around, swinging it in an arch at the attacker.
The sword sliced through the chest of a tall, lithe man with silvery blond hair.
The man’s mouth opened, rows and rows of pointed teeth glinting in the dim light as he let out an ear-splitting screech and charged toward Castien. A mimicta.
Castien’s Gift illuminated the weaknesses of the creature. He could wound it the way he would any other man, but to kill it, he would have to cut off its head. Castien swiped at the mimicta again, creating a bloody x on its chest. The sound of Finn unsheathing his sword rang in Castien’s ear.
“Come on, let’s play,” Finn said and beckoned the creature with the tip of his blade.
The creature howled and started toward him.
Castien used the distraction to his advantage, flanking it.
Finn and Castien circled the snarling creature while Castien determined the best course of action.
The creature lunged for Finn, who jumped back to avoid the claws protruding from its not-quite-human hands, then sliced at its arm.
The limb fell off, black blood pouring from the wound.
A shriek shot from the creature’s mouth. Before it could jump at Finn again, Castien closed the distance and stabbed through the creature’s back until his blade came out of its chest on the other side. The mimicta thrashed on the sword, clawing at the blade with bloodied hands.
“It’s not dying,” Finn said, his eyes wild in the wavering candlelight.
“We have to cut off its head,” Castien explained. Finn raised his sword. “Wait!” Finn stopped just short of the flailing body. “I want to see if it knows anything.”
“It’s a cryptura,” Finn sounded exasperated. “It’s not going to tell us anything. It probably doesn’t even speak our language.”
The creature snarled as if it were agreeing with Finn.
“Do you see what it looks like?” Castien asked. Finn raised the candle in his opposite hand. His eyes widened in recognition before he lifted his sword to the mimicta’s throat.
“Did you kill a man here recently?” Finn asked in a cold voice.
The creature continued to attempt to free itself from Castien’s blade. He pushed it deeper.
“Speak, demon, or we will kill you,” Castien threatened.
“Not kill! Not kill!” the creature’s voice was warbled and rasping.
“You didn’t kill a man in these woods?” Finn clarified.
The creature’s head whipped back and forth. “Not kill! Just eat.”
Castien’s stomach turned. That explains why Heron’s organs were missing.
“Did you see him die?” Finn asked.
Another head shake. “No. Just eat!”
Finn met Castien’s gaze over the creature’s shoulder.
Castien nodded. Finn’s blade blurred in the moonlight as he sliced clean through the mimicta’s neck.
The head tumbled to the ground. Castien pulled his sword out.
Its body followed the head. Black blood coated his blade and dripped onto the ground.
Castien wiped the metal on his pants before sliding his sword back into its scabbard.
The thick stench of rot clung to the air and now his clothes.
“Still think this wasn’t reckless?” Finn asked as he cleaned his blade.
“We got information. It was worth the risk.”
“Ah, so you admit there was risk involved,” Finn hedged.
Castien shot him an unamused look.
“Now is not the time to argue semantics.” Castien gestured to the creature. “It looks just like Kalyxi. They can only take on the appearances of those whose blood they’ve shed.”
“Maybe Heron was killed without his blood being shed until it came along? Or the creature could have lied. After all, it is a depraved monster.” Finn’s blade clicked into the belt around his waist.
Castien’s Gift drew in the air above. Gold diagrams and words swirled. An idea surfaced amongst them, quickening his heartbeat.
“I don’t think it lied. Hand me the candle,” Castien said, and Finn passed it over. The wax was pooling in the thick brass plate. It wouldn’t be long until the flame burnt out. They needed to get back on the other side of the Wall quickly.
Castien bent down and grabbed the creature’s head by the hair. He flipped it over so it faced up. The monster’s maw was wide open. Castien ignored the chilling number of teeth and looked for bruises or marks.
“He was punched,” Castien said as he hovered the flame over the mimicta’s copy of Heron’s face.
“He? Don’t you mean it?” Finn questioned.
“No, I mean Kalyxi. A mimicta takes on the likeness of its prey. If Heron was dead or injured when it got to him, then it would have taken on the appearance of those injuries.”
“The mimicta could have been hurt before we saw it.”
Castien nodded. “True, but I doubt it.” He studied the body next, noting a large violet bruise on the rib cage.
“Because it suits your theories?”
Castien stood and met his cousin’s gaze. “Because I can’t think of anyone or anything that would punch something with that many teeth in the face.”
Finn tilted his head from one side to the other. “Fair point. So we know he was injured before the mimicta got to him. That doesn’t rule out another cryptura being the killer.”
They started back toward the door they came through.
There was only one official way to get beyond the Wall, and that was by the docks.
But there were several unofficial ways to sneak beyond the borders of the academy.
The secret doors were supposed to be used for emergencies–like the sudden disappearance of a beloved student–but the Order used them for whatever purposes they deemed necessary.
Heron would have known how to use those exits.
Dry leaves crunched beneath their feet, some sticking to their bloodied boots. Castien kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the fog-laden path before them.
“What kind of cryptura would give Heron a few bruises before leaving him behind to be the meal of another?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to get on the other side of the Wall so I don’t find out,” Finn said as he picked up the pace.
“I ought to tell Alessia about how scared you were out here,” Castien teased.
Finn shot him a sharp look. “We were almost killed by a mimicta and we’re not even a foot from the Wall!” he exclaimed. “Another one could come at any minute.”
“That one was likely emboldened by the fact it wore the same uniform as us. Since Heron was an easy target, it was foolish enough to think we would be the same. You know most cryptura don’t leave the woods.”
Every year, the weapons students went to the top of the Wall and shot flaming arrows at the edge of the woods as a continual reminder to stay back.
Thus far, the tradition held. Except for tonight, Castien supposed, but it was a unique circumstance.
Where there were rules, there were always exceptions to said rules.
“The word most is what bothers me,” Finn grumbled.
They came upon the spot where the hidden entryway resided.
With one last cautious look over his shoulder, Castien pressed the three bricks that signaled the door to open, then pushed the heavy rock door inward.
Finn aided him in getting it open and closed again.
It could be opened by one man with great effort, but it was easier with two.
Another piece of evidence pointing to Heron not being alone.
“We lived,” Castien said in a flat tone.
“No thanks to you,” Finn sniffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wash up and see if Alessia is awake.”
His cousin set off toward the academy without a candle to guide him.
As against this reconnaissance as he claimed to be, he was best suited for the job, given his aptitude for navigating the darkness.
It wasn’t Finn’s Gift–which was charisma–but it was something he had been trained in as the son of a war general.
“We aren’t done discussing theories,” Castien called after him.
Finn began to walk backward, wearing his signature dimpled grin.
“I am certain that you and your Gift can determine more without me to pester you. I will come by the study in the morning to see what you’ve come up with.”
“Fine. But be sure that you arrive early. We don’t have time to waste. Eventide is almost up. If there’s a murderer in our midst, we need to know before we’re trapped with them.”
“I will be prompt, Your Highness,” Finn taunted, using Castien’s formal title.
“Go away before I lock you outside the wall,” Castien replied with a laugh.
Finn saluted, then turned and disappeared under the cover of night.
Castien walked slowly across the academy grounds, the candle in his hand flickering.
He passed the library and glanced up at the tall stone building.
During the semester, it was never dark inside.
There was always a student or a professor hovering over a book.
With how competitive the academy was, the students kept odd hours in order to stay ahead.
And the professors constantly studied to ensure no student would best them in a battle of wits.
Eventide was the only time the library went dark.
Many of the non-essential academy staff went to their home islands while the Tides were able to be traversed, and the esteemed librarians were no exception.
Fog swirled around Castien’s legs as he made his way across the grounds to the House of Arythes, where his chambers were.
The building was made out of similar dark stone as the rest of the academy’s facilities.
The house resembled more of a fortress than a home.
It was built by King Arythes of Grimhaven, a graduate of the academy, two hundred years ago.
He’d wanted to create something that represented strength and power.
There had been renovations since then, but it still retained the imposing look the king had intended with two spired turrets shooting out of the top, and a wide entryway that made one feel as though they were walking into the mouth of a great beast. Furthering that feeling was the depiction of a crulkin that was carved into the doorframe.
Tentacles cascaded to the floor, all attached to a massive head with unblinking pearl eyes that watched all from the apex.
Castien passed beneath the creature and headed inside with discretion.
There weren’t many students left on the isle due to the season, but those that were didn’t need to see him covered in cryptura blood.
The grand foyer was dim, only lit by sconces that lined the walls.
But down the hallway, he saw a puddle of warm light, indicating that some of his housemates were still awake and in the lounge. Voices and laughter floated to him.
He was careful not to make any noise as he turned off down the left hallway and made his way to the staircase that would lead him to the top of the turret where he had lived for the past two years.
His candle was nothing more than wax and smoke by the time he reached his chambers.
He pulled a small brass key out of the pocket of his academy jacket and let himself in.
Once inside, he set his scabbard on his desk and the burnt-out candle beside it.
Heathford would clean the blade and Castien’s soiled clothes tomorrow.
The butler always did as he was told and never pried or asked any questions.
He had seen to Castien’s every need since the prince was a child, and next to Finn, was Castien’s most trusted ally.
Though Heathford was meticulous in many ways, the man could never keep Castien’s room in order.
There were books stacked on every available surface, some open, some bookmarked, some simply turned upside down to hold their place.
Loose parchment with various scribbles and seemingly nonsensical notes littered the floor.
There was even a half-full bucket of paint that was used to counteract Castien’s habit of writing his thoughts on the walls.
Castien stripped off his clothes and left them in a pile near the paint.
Then he rinsed his skin in the washroom with a bucket of cool water and a cloth before lying down on his large four-poster bed.
All the while, his Gift tugged at his attention.
It painted the walls of his room and now the ceiling with calculations and theories.
Castien’s eyes darted in the darkness as it explained the ways he could have killed the creature faster or obtained more information.
Then he went through each piece of evidence he had about Kalyxi’s death so far.
There wasn’t enough to gather a lead, but he felt he was on the precipice of uncovering one.
He simply had to keep digging. The lack of time made him want to stay awake until he found it, but exhaustion weighed him down.
His eyes closed, and his Gift followed him into his dreams, so that even while asleep, he never truly rested.
But Castien didn’t mind the sacrifice, so long as he accomplished what he set out to do. It was his duty, after all.