King of Dust

Chapter 24

A pool of blood oozed across the cobblestone, and I had to look away to keep my composure. It was not that I wanted to drink it, you understand, just that the uninhibited butchering of a Human body still made me squeamish. After all that I had seen, after all my brother had done – after all that I had done – brutalized bodies did not sit well with me.

I learned that day that two brothers, the Dalca brothers, ran a trapping company in Nessden. Their store was relatively successful, with wolves being their primary prey. Together, they kept the people of Nessden warm. Now, one of them had been strung up outside his own store, his beard hanging over his face and obscuring his features. Blood dripped down his nose and onto the cobblestone. The burgomaster had sent his son for us in the morning, and the four of us had tromped through fresh mud back into town. Now, we stood before a corpse, and I pulled the cloak over my head to protect myself from the sun. The disguise worked perfectly, and no one had any clue who I was. We were just a group of investigators inspecting a very unusual and very dead corpse.

"The fact that he's still bleeding isn't a good sign," Urien muttered, taking notes as he circled around the body. The poor chap had been hung up by one of his ankles with the other crudely crossed behind his knee. His arms had been bound behind his back and his throat slit. That was clear. "This murder happened recently."

"It's definitely fresh," Yra commented.

I stepped back from the scene, watching passersby gag and gawk at the gruesome nature of the murder, and tilted my head to the side. The position the man was in tickled something in the back of my mind. Something was familiar. As I watched him, I remembered.

"Urien!" I called. "Urien, I've seen this before!"

"Where?" Urien asked, still furiously taking notes.

"That's a Mortrean Oracle card, I'm sure of it. Look at his positioning." I craned my neck around to make sure I was correct. "It must be. The Hanged Man."

"I have no clue what that means, but I trust you on that."

"It's a symbol. My people have read cards for hundreds of years to tell the future and to bring clarity to the present. Whoever did this is trying to send a message."

"Do you know who we could talk to about that?"

"In the camp at the edge of town live some friends of mine. We could go talk to them. If the assassin is Mortrean, they'll know."

Urien put away his notebook and turned to Yra and Astrid. Astrid had not been able to look at the body, she could not bear it, and Yra had decided to keep her company across the square. Urien whistled loudly and waved to get their attention, and soon they rejoined us.

"We're taking a little trip," he said. "We're riding out of town."

* * *

"Oh, look who it is."

A towering Mortrean stood before us, his arms crossed and his face stern. His biceps were probably bigger than my head, and I feared him. I knew him well, and it seemed that he did not miss me.

"Oh ha-a-ai, Lumas!" I cooed, wishing more than anything I could hide under a rock. "How have you been?"

"Starving, since you decided to completely ignore the camp. Did you forget we were here?" Lumas grumbled, barricading our way into camp. The Mortrean camp rested on the edge of town. Always had. After my brother and I took over Starkovia, the original residents did not want to give up their way of life. They clung to their houses and their farms, while my people chose to do what they had always done: remain mobile.