Path of Bones (21 page)

Argus had little experience traveling the wastes between the cities, which was why for years he’d devoted himself to researching the Bonelands and gathering all of the information he could on the dangers of the fallen Empire of Gallador.  A week ago, when Gess had lost his hand, Argus realized that information was going to be put to practical use whether he wanted it to or not. 

There are stories about fools like me
, he mused. 
Tales of young men gone to chase dragons, thinking they were the heroes when in fact they were the half-wits who wound up skewered and roasted and eaten by the natives. 

He was no longer afraid, not truly, and Argus could only surmise he’d either failed to take in the reality of the situation or else had completely lost his mind.

Argus went through the contents of his pack – a bedroll, two full canteens, a compass, flint and steel, a coil of rope, parchments and coal pencils for map-making and notes, extra clothes and a small knife – and thought of what lie ahead.  In a way he
did
feel like those young heroes from the stories, because despite the fact that his stomach was tied in knots he was elated by the notion of getting away from Ral Tanneth.  He’d spent most of his life there, and though he was considered one of the most gifted Veilwardens of the past decade he had little experience on the battlefield.  His parents were dead, he had no siblings, and aside from a couple of brief romantic relationships he was basically an introvert, with his only social interactions being those he maintained in his duties as the head of House Blue.

I’m four and twenty
, he thought. 
I’m well overdue to get out of here.

In a way his own abilities had kept him from having the experiences he should have had.  Normally a Veilwarden was required to serve the Crown faithfully for a period of seven years before they could even be considered for position in any of the colored Houses, and that service generally entailed a very real element of danger, as combat experience was a vital part of a Veilwarden’s training.  Argus had been the exception to the rule: his ability to Touch the Veil was remarkable, and at a very young age he’d mastered conjurations and Veilcraft that others with many more years of experience than he still struggled with.  Using magic had come naturally to him from the start.  He was a true prodigy, and as such he’d been sheltered.  The fact that Empress Azaean – who’d hand-selected him to serve as the head of House Blue when Joranna Coldclaw abruptly retired, thereby thrusting him into the fold when he was still a novice – was allowing him to lead the mission spoke to how vital it was.  He’d been her pet project, the most unique and vital Veilwarden, she’d said, in the history of the Empire.

Sacrifices must be made.

Argus set his pack on the bureau.  He dressed in a plain black shirt and trousers, the simplest and most comfortable clothes he could find for the journey ahead.  His thick cloak hung on a peg.

A knock came on the door to his chambers. 

“
Yes?” he called out.

He had two visitors: Dorvan Karn, a grey-haired Veilwarden with countless years of service, and Lestarra Ravane, an attractive red-haired women with pale skin and a voluptuous frame, who up until a few days ago Argus had been romantically involved with.  Both dressed in loose-fitting cloaks – Karn’s was grey, Lestarra’s sky blue – and wore the cobalt badge of House Blue, a clenched fist holding a lightning bolt.

“You wanted to see us, Lord Saam’siir?” Karn asked. 

“
Yes, Karn.  I’ll be leaving for a few days, and I’ve informed Her Imperial Majesty that you’ll be the acting head of House Blue while I’m away.  Goddess knows you’ll be much better at it than I am.”

They both looked at him in surprise.  He couldn’t help but notice the iciness behind Lestarra’s expression. 

“This is unexpected, Argus,” Karn said.  “Is everything well?  How long will you be away?”

Argus watched Lestarra, hoping for some sign that she was worried about him, but there was none. 

That’s probably too much to ask, considering what I’ve put you through.

“
No,” he answered.  “Everything is
not
well.  There’s a chance I won’t be coming back.”  The weight of those words hit him like a splash of cold water.  “Lucky for me, there’s also a chance that I
will
,” he added with a nervous laugh, “but in my absence I’m sure you’ll take care of things.  I’ve spent the past few days putting everything in order.”

“
I’m sure we’ll get by,” Karn smiled.  He’d helped manage House Blue’s administrative side for the better part of a decade – there was little doubt he knew more about how to deal with the House’s day-to-day affairs than Argus himself.  “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“
No,” Argus said.  “I’m already prepared to leave.”

“
What…tonight?” Lestarra asked.  Argus nodded.

“
How’s
that
for short notice?” Karn said with a wry grin.

“
I’m sorry,” Argus said.  “You know the Empress likes to keep her information tightly bottled.”

“
I’ll leave you to it, then,” Karn said. 

“
Thank you, Dorvan.  I’m having Rasteen assemble the charters and the ledger, and he’ll deliver them to you in the morning.”

Dorvan nodded to each of them in turn and took his leave, leaving Argus and Lestarra alone.  Silence fell over the room like a shroud.  It had been a few days since they’d spoken, and none of their last words had been pleasant.  Lestarra held him in her steely gaze.  For woman so short she possessed great presence and authority, which was part of what had attracted Argus to her in the first place.

The tension in the air was palatable.  Argus set his cloak and boots on the floor next to the bureau while Lestarra watched him.

“
We never had a chance to finish our conversation,” he said at last, no longer able to bear the silence.

“
There didn’t seem to be much left to say,” she said.  “I can’t trust you.  I
want
to.  I thought I could.  But I know that you still think about her.”

He wasn’t sure what to say.  He didn’t want to lie to her – not again – but sometimes the truth was more painful.

“I’m sorry.”

“
That’s it?” she asked with an edge to her voice.  Her eyes were radiant, beautiful.  Eyes he’d gotten lost in.

“
What do you want me to say?” he asked.  “That I
don’t
think about her?  That the time Razel and I spent together didn’t mean anything to me?  That I didn’t want it to end?  Because if I said that I’d be lying to you again.”

Lestarra’s eyes burned through him.  She remained calm – Veilwardens were
always
calm, for that was as much a part of their training as learning to Touch the Veil – but the way she clenched her jaw told him she was fighting the urge to incinerate his skull.  He could feel the Veil shift around her, practically tasted the glacial fumes.

“
Well, now you’ll get what you want, won’t you?” she said coldly.  “Too bad it was Gess who let slip that she was part of this secret business, and not you.”  Lestarra shook her head and wrapped her arms around her body as if fighting off a chill.  She smiled viciously.  “And now you get to go off on a secret mission together…how exciting!”

“
One thing has nothing to do with the other,” he said angrily.  “She was involved in this long before anyone knew
I
needed to go.  I selected her because she’s the best person for the job.”

“
And yet you never told me,” Lestarra said.  “Remember that first night we spent together?” she asked quietly.  Her hair was tussled, as ever, beautiful in how she never styled or even seemed to care about it, just a wild and fiery mess of explosive red.  “I asked you to tell me a story.  A story about love…”

“
I do,” he said sadly.  “And I told you about
her
.”  He took a deep breath.  “I don’t want to go,” he said.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Razel was involved, but I...didn’t want to hurt you.”  She looked away angrily.  “You have to know I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said again.  “You know me well enough to believe that, don’t you?”

“
I don’t think I know you at all,” she said. 

She left without another word.  Argus stood in silence, feeling like he’d been punched in the chest. 

Damn it.

After a short time he picked up his pack, donned his cloak and headed for the north tower, where Veilcrafted steel and runic stones would help him prepare a
cutgate.

It was time to gather the hunters.

Twenty-One

“
I like you,” Kel muttered as he ran his lips up Fon’s leg.  “I like the way you smell…”

Fon laid her head back and sighed.  It was cold in the streets of Irontear, but there in Kel’s grimy little house the air was thick with body heat.  His room was a shambles, a sweaty box filled with years of accumulated bric-a-brac taken from the women he’d tortured and killed: wedding rings in cloth bags, charm bracelets still crusted with old blood, gold teeth dug from broken jaws, tufts of hair he’d wadded up and used to stuff his pillows.  He wasn’t a subtle killer, but he’d somehow managed to stay out of plain sight.  The Ripper, they called him, for he always removed the hearts of his victims and stuck them in the corpse’s mouth after he’d fucked them.  Usually they were alive for that part, but not always.

He was going to do the same to Fon, which was exactly why she was there.  She’d gone with him willingly, just like his victims always did.  Why wouldn’t they?  He was a charming man, not too young or too old, with chiseled muscles and a lean face, sparkling eyes and a pleasant voice.  He always knew what to say to make a girl blush, and then what to say to make her do more than just blush, but all the while he watched them with poison in his soul, a sick fire that raged day and night, never calming even when he thrust his soiled member inside them, even               when they screamed and writhed and called for help as he spilled his seed and plunged his knife in their chests. 

She wanted him to feel the thrill of his horribly deranged act, to allow his senses to reel in that moment before the kill. 

Fon smiled.  His tongue worked its way up the smooth stomach of her assumed form.  It was a body she usually adopted when she needed to be human, a lithe and athletic female without an ounce of fat and perfectly smooth skin.  She was tall, with long legs and short brown hair…just like many of Kel’s other victims.  She knew she was his dream come true. 

She felt a moment of pain as he penetrated her – he was quite endowed for a human – but it was soon replaced by waves of pleasure which rippled through her unstable skin.  Her species reproduced via much more methodical and infinitely less pleasurable means than humans, and Fon had to remind herself not to enjoy the intimate contact too much.

Their sweat and breath cast steam over the windows, and soon all she heard were grunts and moans and the creaking bed, flesh slapping on flesh.  He held a hand clamped tight around her throat and seemed surprised at her docility, but of course he had no way of knowing she didn’t need her mouth to draw breath, or that the pain he caused was in its own way pleasurable to her, just as all human contact was pleasurable, fascinating in its complex array of sensations and contradictions.  She kept her eyes closed, but she saw him perfectly.  He watched her hungrily as he thrust his cock in and out, and by the almost pained expression on his face she could tell he was nearly finished – already he reached for his blade at the edge of the bed.  It was keen and sharp and his only friend, and he’d use it to finish her the moment he erupted.

Fon struck first.  She felt his blood spray against her inner thighs, watched his eyes bulge in shock and his mouth twist in pain.  He tried to pull away, but that only made it worse – tiny spines ripped into his genitals, puncturing the skin like meat hooks.  His weapon clattered to the ground and his arms flailed.  Red gushed everywhere as his high-pitched screams echoed through the small house.

The creature called Fon smiled.  Her skin flushed grey-green, not truly skin at all but scales.  Fon’s eyes went yellow and her hair turned black, and the perfect human teeth stretched into yellow fangs a tiger would envy.  Ebon claws as keen as razors pushed from the tips of her fingers. 

She took the Ripper by the throat.  He whimpered like a beaten dog.

“It’s taken me a long time to find you,” Fon said through clenched teeth.  Her voice was inhuman, a sound more like breaking glass and stone.  “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Kel.  They say you’ve killed twenty-three women, and that’s just the ones they found.”  She pulled his face close to hers, tightening her grip.  His face turned blue.  Her immense strength held him suspended off the ground, and with her free hand she reached up and grabbed the ruin of skin and blood that used to be his cock.  He cried out in pain, and tears of agony ran from his eyes.  “You made a mistake, Kel.  Got sloppy.  The last one you brought home was the servant of a rich man’s wife.  They were both fond of her, and they’re paying me a great deal of money to bring back proof of your death.  They were very specific how they wanted it done.”  She bore her fangs and pulled his face to within inches of hers.  “I warn you: it’s going to hurt.”