Threat Page 11
The hostile started to turn so Raneth flung the throwing dagger and watched as it hit the hostile in the neck. The man jerked to a confused stop and Raneth charged forwards. He slapped a hand over his mouth and grabbed the blade, twisting. The hostile reached up as Raneth tugged the dagger free, but the hands were disorganised, letting the royal official know his blade had caught what it needed to. He rolled the dying man under the carriage, his mind turned away from the death of his opponent. He held the throwing dagger ready as he eased forwards, but froze as a second hostile stepped into view. He wasn’t skinny but he wasn’t what Raneth would call muscular. Somewhere between athletic and wiry, he decided. He flung himself to the floor as the man turned, looking his way, and Raneth froze. Don’t see me. Don’t see me. The man hummed at himself before drawing a tin from his back pocket and Raneth watched as the man set about rolling a stick of tobacco. Turn away. I don’t want your buddies hearing me kill you. He resisted the urge to toy with the bloodied throwing dagger in his left hand, barely breathing as he watched the man closely. Come on. Turn.
The man didn’t. He stayed where he was, smoking in Raneth’s direction. I swear if you don’t move… The royal official in him knew patience was better, but the Bayre part of him and the whole of him that saw Cray as a friend just wanted to charge in. He didn’t want to wait. I could do it with my gift. He slowly slid his throwing dagger back into place at his side and quelled his urge to rush. Cray hadn’t made any noise. He had sat up straight, and hadn’t been favouring anything obvious. The king could wait a little longer. Even if Raneth didn’t want him to. He watched his target smoking, staring over his head without seeing him. Those tunnels suggested they had experienced something like the Nebar War or an everyday skirmish at the borders of the Barbaric East, Raneth thought. The hostile rose his chin as he blew a stream of smoke into the chilly air. But the fact this guy hasn’t seen me, even though he’s smoking in my direction suggests otherwise. Someone with army experience would know to check the ground for any unusual or human-like shapes.
“Jaxson, are you smoking my tobacco again?” Raneth hunkered lower against the ground until his chin touched dirt whilst another of Reinette’s men stepped into view, his focus on the one smoking.
“Nah. I wouldn’t smoke yours. I’ve got Kajo’s.”
The newcomer slipped his thumbs into his belt beside two short swords. “And where is Kajo?” He gestured around the carriage. “Isn’t he supposed to be on lookout with you?”
“He was here before I grabbed his stash.”
“Give me that.” Raneth watched as the new hostile slapped Jaxson’s tobacco roll from his hand before stamping on it. “Now pick that up and shove it in the carriage. We have to take all our rubbish with us.”
“There’s no way a royal official survived that. We left them dead.”
“Yeah, and we left their bodies, Jaxson. Near the palace. Word would have reached Prince Pedibastet and Lady Lemuela by now and they could have put the royal official captain on our tails. You want to deal with that nasty piece of—”
“Not really,” admitted Jaxson. He picked up his destroyed tobacco roll but as he lifted his gaze and straightened, he frowned at Raneth.
Giften’s sodding soil. Raneth flung his hands forwards and white mist sped through the grass, striking both men in their faces, spreading across their mouths and noses before solidifying. Pouncing to his feet, Raneth sprinted to them and knocked them both down. All three grunted as they hit the ground and the beefy hand of the man that hadn’t been smoking grabbed Raneth’s short hair and pulled. Raneth smashed a fist into his throat and the man let go, gasping. The sheet of ice around his mouth and nose cracked, the pieces falling into his mouth and Raneth jabbed a finger into Jaxson’s eye, keeping him at bay. Yanking free his throwing dagger, he sliced their necks before standing.
“You.” A fourth man had stepped around the carriage, two mugs steaming in a hand as he glared at Raneth. “Birdie-boy’s here!” he yelled, flinging the hot mugs at Raneth. Raneth threw himself to the side, barely missing being struck by the mugs and their spewing hot liquid before the hostile slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground by the carriage wheels. His throwing dagger lost, Raneth slipped a trapped arm free from under his attacker as he took a punch to the face. His head spun for a second before he lifted both arms to shield his face, the heavy beat of his attacker crashing against his arms again and again.
Gotta get out from under him. Raneth shifted a knee under the man, but his legs weren’t in the right place to roll his attacker under him. Gift. Raneth splayed his arms wide before slapping his hands against the man’s ears. White mist spun into the man’s ears, crackling as tiny icicles sliced into the man’s ear canal, aiming for the brain. The hostile grunted something unintelligible before backing off from Raneth, his hands reaching for his ears. Raneth flung another icicle at the man, aiming for his neck but missed, striking the collarbone. His icicle shattered at the contact, so Raneth threw another. It hit its target and the man fell back, choking. He heard a breath behind him and Raneth looked over his shoulder. It was one of the other men. That one wasn’t running at him, or approaching, just watching. Raneth slowly climbed to his feet, warily watching the man back. Where’s the other guy? There was five men, the driver, Cray and Reinette. Hands grabbed his ankles and tugged.
Raneth fell to his front and sucked in a breath as he was dragged towards the underside of the carriage, where he had stashed his first kill. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted his kill’s head still visible, but another man was under the carriage, pulling him under. Not good. Deciding against kicking at the man, knowing it could just result in him hurting his feet on the carriage or the hostile’s teeth, Raneth flung more of his Common Gift of Ice’s white mist, this time shoving it down the man’s throat and nose before letting it solidify. The hostile let go and Raneth crawled away from the carriage’s underside, but couldn’t dodge as the other man kicked his cheekbone. Raneth slumped to the ground and clenched his eyes tight. Get up. Get up. He grabbed the throwing dagger on the ground and stabbed it into the underside of the man’s foot as he kicked at Raneth a second time. The blade slid through the rubber sole with ease — the hostile screamed and hopped backwards from Raneth. The royal official pulled the blade free, stood and kicked the man’s gut. The hostile fell to his backside and Raneth sliced an icicle into the man’s throat.
He glanced back towards the underside of the carriage. The sixth man wasn’t there anymore. I probably didn’t suffocate him, just made him panic before the ice melted from his warmth. He frowned, listening intently for Cray or Reinette to say anything on the other side as he carefully inspected the grass and carriage around him. The rump of one of the horses was visible beyond the carriage, and Raneth watched as it patted its back feet anxiously against the ground. Maybe he’s over there by the horses. Raneth circled towards the front of the carriage, slipping his throwing dagger back into his belt before drawing his sword. Get Cray now. Arrest or kill Reinette. Try for an arrest so Cray can get to the bottom of this and the attack on Aldora’s village. As Cray and Reinette came into view, Raneth hesitated. The sixth man was laying between the fire and the carriage. Did he choke?I never heard him. He watched the man’s chest carefully, trying to determine if he was unconscious or faking being dead, but it was too dark to be sure if he was seeing the chest move or just imagining it.
“Raneth.”
The royal official spun his attention to Cray. “Your Majesty.” He swept his gaze to Reinette. She was standing beside Cray, but Cray was calm. Too calm. Raneth’s stomach started to knot. He couldn’t see Cray’s eyes clearly in the dark to determine if something was wrong. “What’s—”
Reinette grinned as she clapped her hands together before she drew them apart.
Common Gift of Fire? He tensed, waiting for the spark of a fresh fireball between her hands but took a wary step back as a blue light erupted there instead, speeding into the sky above them and smothering the
three in its blue glow. Raneth’s stomach clenched tighter, and Raneth pressed a fisted hand to his mouth. At least now I can see their faces better. Cray looked worried. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Something wasn’t sitting right with the Bayre’s stomach, and it wasn’t the royal official rations he’d eaten on his way to Keepaldell. His head started to throb, distracting his attention away from Cray, and how his tongue was starting to feel like a dry sponge in his mouth. Magic! She’s a sorceress.
He wasn’t sure if he thought it or if Cray had warned him, but it was too late. His stomach somersaulted and the spiky taste of bile filled his mouth before his gut twitched. The royal official coughed as he threw up, the muscles down his back twitching so violently that the Bayre fell to his knees and steadied himself with his hands. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t defend himself. He could only vomit. When the chunks lessened, water spewed from his lips as his body shook. Please no. The last thing he needed was a full-blown MIR attack. He couldn’t taste metal in his mouth but then he’d just vomited. He dry-retched as he ran out of water to lose, his stomach twitching and twisting. He heard the woman hum and Raneth looked up, ignoring the vomit in front of him as he spotted she was holding onto Cray’s arm. Cray looked concerned but quiet, frowning at him worriedly. Reinette looked amused, a smirk running rampant across her lips. Raneth threw a shard of ice at her. She blew towards the ice and a wave of orange butterflies left her lips, melting the ice and rushing at Raneth. He rolled to the side, and the fiery bugs crashed into the grass where he had lain but didn’t ignite the grass beside him.
The taste of metal started to hint its way through the vomit taste in his mouth. No, no, no, no, no. The metal taste had always warned him of his worst allergic reactions to non-gift magic. His stomach twisted and knotted, this time from fear as his muscles started to twitch along his body, stiffening and relaxing, stiffening and relaxing, building to a dangerous MIR attack. Please stop. Please stop. Without thinking of the danger it posed, Raneth clenched his eyes shut as the muscle above his left eyebrow began to join in the tremors running along his body. No. No. No. His heart raced out of his control, and his breath was jagged and unkept. The last bad attack had been when he was five. All he remembered of it was his parents’ panicked voices.
“Raneth, calm down. Try to relax. Ignore her. Go and get Aldora.” Cray was trying to help but it was no good. The magic had already been cast and there was no way this woman — this sorceress — was over two hundred years old. Not from the way his body was reacting. He inhaled, hearing the rasp in his breath. I’m gonna suffocate to death.
“I should kill you quickly.” Reinette’s breath heated Raneth’s cheek. He forced himself to open his eyes and look at her — she was squatting near his side, just shy of his stomach’s ex-contents. “But I want your precious king to watch you suffer.”
“Reinette, please.” Cray took a step forward but then he hesitated. His hands were still bound in the silver orb shackles.
Raneth couldn’t breath. He tried to suck in a mouthful of air, a gasp, anything but it felt like whatever he was inhaling wasn’t reaching his chest. Wasn’t letting him breathe. I’m gonna die. A lingering cold rushed down his spine and stayed there, making the Bayre’s body shake more violently. He just caught sight of Cray glancing at his trapped hands, then Reinette before looking at Raneth. The king set his lips in a grim line before he clenched his jaw and jerked forwards. “Leave him alone!”
Raneth shied away from Cray and the sorceress as the king smashed into her, with Cray attempting to capture the woman’s head between his arms to suffocate her. Raneth wheezed in the tiniest of breaths, but still felt like he was choking. He eased back, using a wheel of the carriage to try and climb to his feet but only got as far as his knees. His hands felt numb and weak, and his legs didn’t want to push him into a stand. The royal official was trapped in his allergy. He watched as the sorceress spun around and shoved Cray away from her. The king landed on his butt, and the sorceress launched herself at Raneth. He tried to recoil but he didn’t have the energy. The tremors were becoming stronger. It wouldn’t be long now until his muscles completely seized up and the attack began in full-force. Reinette plucked a throwing dagger from Raneth’s belt before launching herself at Cray. She grabbed his arm and sliced into it. Cray yelped, trying to jerk away from her as she grabbed hold of the wound and squeezed. She stepped away from Cray, turning back towards Raneth before she grabbed the back of his head with her bloodied hand. “Raneth Griffin Bayre, I now bloodhex you from your king.”
He screamed as a searing pain erupted under her hand, jabbing into the back of his head and spreading along his body. It was worse than a burn. It felt as if he were both freezing and boiling alive all at once, cooking and freezing from the inside out. He could feel his head jerking side to side, hurting his neck as his head repeated the motion again and again and again. His fingers dug into the wheel and the earth at his knees, his right hand clenching and unclenching the dirt, his left hand barely able to let go of the wheel as it rhythmically squeezed over and over again. It was happening. Raneth clenched his eyes shut and wished the earth would swallow him.
Chapter Ten
Aldora
The slap of the paste brush against the mugshot poster had become an almost recognisable noise to Aldora. Most of the previous day had been spent putting posters around the village, in places where there was a lot of foot traffic. Jenny and Richard had done the same thing, and now she and her friends were continuing the work, with a plan of getting it finished in time for breakfast at Buzzard Cafe. Aldora looked towards the village gates. I should put one on the gates too, she decided, before plunging her paste brush into a bucket by her feet. She grabbed its handle and the stack of posters tucked under it and headed towards the village’s main gates. As she strode closer, she smiled at her and Jenny’s handiwork from the previous day, line upon line of Rivermud’s face snarling back at her on the walls of some of the homes along High Street, including her own. I wonder if Richard’s back from the palace yet. The sooner Cray sends us an assigned royal official to work with me on this, the better. Although she knew Raneth’s rank — the royal officials assigned murderers, rapists, pedophiles and terrorists — were low in number, any help, even just a royal official that patrolled at night, was welcome, and her note to Cray said as such. I can’t let the village start living in fear. Especially now I know they don’t trust me to actually be a successful Dagger Bearer. She gripped the bucket’s handle tighter. Even though I hadn’t failed before Haethowine. She exhaled a harsh breath before she stopped at the gates and secured her bucket and spare posters. She splattered the gate with a slap of paste before pressing the poster into it and holding it, counting to five in her head. She then grabbed a second poster, this time from the bottom of her pile, and did the same, pasting it beside the first. The second poster let viewers know that there were informational drop-off points and where to find them or to come and tell her in person with a date, time and more details.
The Dagger Bearer turned her attention away from the gates, looking towards Little Wood and the palace’s direction. Not Richard, but who are they? Five men strolled towards the village gates from a slight angle to Little Wood, as if they had been heading towards the trees but decided at the last minute to walk alongside it and head to where Aldora was standing instead. She gave them a small smile before she turned and inspected her posters. They weren’t exactly perfectly aligned, nor a hundred percent straight, but it would do. She glanced over her shoulder at the men. They’re definitely coming this way. One lifted a hand and smiled at her. Guess I’d better wait and see what they want. At the very least if they’re going to pass through the village, I can make sure they know about Jules Rivermud and that I’d rather they didn’t walk through the streets when it gets dark. She raised a hand in reply and returned the smile with one of her own.
“What’s that you’re doing there?” asked the man that had waved once he and his companions were close eno
ugh, gesturing at Aldora’s posters.
“There’s a criminal in the area,” explained Aldora. “He’s suspected of killing in Aleesa and he’s been seen here. Attacked our village leader too. Are you passing through?”
“Possibly.” The other four men didn’t say anything but as Aldora waited for a more detailed answer, she noticed that one of the men was clenching his teeth, and another of the men had grabbed that man’s arm, ignoring his friend’s reddening face. “It depends on some business we have here first.” The talkative male frowned. “Criminals almost always run though, don’t they? Is there really any need for this? Surely, if the guy attacked a village leader, he’d run?”
“This guy seems to be sticking around,” said Aldora. She looked at her handiwork. “If you do stay, please make sure you’re not walking around at night. I’d rather everyone was safely tucked away indoors.” Realising that she looked too young to be giving suggestions, especially as the talkative male looked older than her, Aldora added, “I’m the Dagger Bearer. I’m filling in for our village leader until he’s back on his feet.”
The man smiled. “We’ll be careful. It was interesting to meet you, Dagger Bearer. Good luck with the criminal.”
“Thanks.” Aldora watched the five men enter the village before she glanced at her work again. A bit more paste won’t hurt. She slathered the two posters in the somewhat waterproof paste to help protect them from any rain. She then headed back into the village and back the way she’d come, paying no mind to the five men several houses ahead of her already. She paused as she reached her own home and dumped her supplies by the front door. Plucking one of the information drop-off point posters from the bottom of the pile, she entered her home and slipped it into the front window, before returning to the street. A few more posters along here and maybe by the hospital and I should be done.