Blood Eagle - 46. The Spellbreaker
The Spellbreaker
In the early hours of the morning, chaos had taken over the estate of House Salvius. Learning the news, guests practically fled out the doors. Most of the household guards were gone, combing the streets in vain for a murderer who had vanished. With all of the traffic going out the gates, a lone wanderer went the other way, unopposed.
He looked a curious sight amidst the patricians and their retinues, all hurrying away. At length, an elderly servant approached him. “What is this? On this day of tragedy, a vagabond struts in here, with all the guards absent? Haven’t we suffered enough?”
Atreus glanced at him briefly. “I am a spellbreaker of Archen. Under the treaty between your realm and mine, I have full authority to investigate matters of maleficus, including murders committed through magic. The city guard alerted us that such might have taken place here tonight. Do you deny this?”
The servant paled. “Forgive me, good master, I had no idea. I know nothing of magic.”
“But there was a murder here tonight? The lord of the house, a mageknight?”
“Yes, my dominus, whom I have served faithfully for decades.” Tears filled the old man’s eyes. “I saw it myself, a dreadful sight!”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Of course, good master. I woke in the night – I’m old and a light sleeper. I went to the kitchens to get something to settle my stomach. I saw light down the stairs that lead to the dominus’s gymnasium, so I brought a cup of wine on my way back. I thought he might be thirsty,” the servant explained with a lump in his throat. “He was always exercising and training. Such a great man, and they butchered him!”
“Any idea who ‘they’ might be?”
“Ah, well, it was just the one.”
Atreus stared at him with a piercing look. “You saw the murderer?”
The old man swallowed. “Not quite, good master. I went down the stairs. First, I saw the dominus’s body – horribly mutilated, it was. Made me drop the cup out of pure fright. Then, as if spat out by the shadows, this man appeared. Ran right past me, shoving me aside!”
“You saw his face?”
“Forgive me, good master, I didn’t.” The servant wrung his hands. “He’ll be far gone, the wretch. No justice for my poor, slain dominus.”
“Where’s the body now?”
“Still in the gymnasium, good master. We didn’t dare touch it. We sent for the Black Brothers to fetch it, but they haven’t come yet.”
“Good,” Atreus declared. “Show me.”
“I’ll take you to the stairs,” the servant mumbled, and he turned around. “But I’m never setting foot down there while I live.”
Descending the staircase into darkness, Atreus summoned a small flame to illuminate his path. As he reached the circular chamber, a gruesome sight met him. A beheaded corpse, kneeling, with the head lying in front. Worse than that, the muscles on the back had been cut open, and the shoulder blades pulled up and raised into the air like a mockery of wings.
Despite the terrible vision, Atreus did not recoil or hesitate. He approached and knelt down, examining the body and the wooden floorboards. The bloodstains had darkened, making them hard to distinguish, and he increased his floating flame to provide more light.
From his belt, Atreus took out his small wax tablet containing his notes and began to write. Stabbed in chest first, ankles cut second, blade used. Decapitating strike final blow. Magical strength required. Carvings on back done after death. Victim made to resemble a bird – mockery of Aquilan symbol?
Rising to his feet, Atreus beheld the scene one last time, scrutinising the posture of the body. When satisfied, he turned and left with swift steps.
At the top of the stairs, a woman waited; by her clothing, she was the domina of the house. “You are the Archean mage?”
“I am, milady. A spellbreaker, Atreus. If it makes a difference, your husband did not suffer.”
She sniffed. “How can you tell?”
“Barely any blood on his back means it happened after he had died. Lord Salvius was wounded in his chest, which brought him low, but even that wound did not bleed long, suggesting he was decapitated immediately after.”
“I suppose that is some comfort.” Despite the grisly end her husband had met, the woman seemed either composed or simply still in shock.
“It was good you did not move his body, despite how tempting it must have been,” Atreus commended her. “I have written down my observations, so once the Black Brothers arrive, there’s no need to delay them from giving your husband the final rites.”
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“Well, I knew some manner of heathen ritual had taken place. Same reason I had the city guard alert you lot,” she explained. “I cannot say whether that Tyrian bastard simply enjoyed desecrating my husband’s corpse or whether it was meant to be a message to the rest of us, but either way, I wanted you Archeans to see.”
Atreus frowned. “You know the culprit?”
“Stars, not by name or face. But the blood eagle – my husband told his guests of it many times, witnessing it in Tyria.”
“You’re certain this was done by a Tyrian?”
“Nether’s name, yes! It is one of their savage methods for torturing a man, which is why I am surprised this particular cutthroat only did it after Lord Salvius was dead.” She gave him a sharp look. “Did you not know this? Must I explain your own craft to you?”
“Forgive me, milady. I must be on the hunt.” Without further explanation, Atreus hurried away.
*
Reaching the docks one bell before noon, Atreus hammered on the door to Helgi’s hut. As he looked ready to kick the door in, the children playing on the street yelled out to him. “He’s not there!”
The spellbreaker turned and approached them. “You know where he is?”
One of the kids nodded. “Our neighbour’s giving birth. He’s been there since yesterday.” She eyed Atreus up and down. “I can take you.”
“Wait! I saw something last night. You said you’d pay if we told you something useful,” a boy interjected.
“What did you see?”
“Someone rummaged around old Helgi’s hut in the middle of the night. When he saw me watching, he jumped like a cat and ran off,” he laughed.
“Did you notice his face? Did it have a scar?”
The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes, it did!”
Atreus knelt down and looked him in the eyes. “Are you lying? You should tell me the truth,” he suggested, reinforced by magic.
“No,” the boy admitted. “Too dark. I couldn’t see him.”
“Wait, I saw something too!” the girl now chimed in. “The other fiveday. Helgi left in the middle of the night, and I followed him to The Broken Mast.”
Atreus scratched his chin. “What’s that, a tavern?”
“Hah, worse than that,” the boy grinned. “The meanest people in the harbour. They’ll cut you just for looking at them! My da always tells me to stay far away from there.”
The spellbreaker rose to his full height, looking up and down the street. Finally, he took out a silver piece. “Show me where it is.”
*
After the tumultuous night that saw The Broken Mast change owners abruptly, Aja had moved in, taking over Magnus’s quarters and study. In the following fivedays, the neighbourhood had been more or less quiet, other than the occasional brawl in the streets or the tavern, usually fuelled by drink or men competing for the same woman’s affection.
Aja had worked the building and district into her existing criminal ring; the city guard was bribed, both to overlook the events of that night as well as other affairs, contacts had been established or remade after Magnus’s death, smuggling routes arranged, and coin flowed like never before. All in all, as the Sindhian woman looked over her ledgers, she did so with a satisfied smile.
“Sorry, mistress, but…” One of her henchmen stood at the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Spit it out.”
“Down in the common room. Says he’s a wizard.” He cleared his throat. “Not just that, but Archean. He’s asking questions about Tyrians.”
Immediately, Aja pulled out a drawer and opened a small box within, containing golden jewellery. “Anyone say anything?” she asked as she put on a necklace and placed rings in her ears and more on her fingers.
“Not yet, but who knows what he’s after.”
Slamming the drawer shut, Aja got on her feet, and she hurried out the door.
*
Nobody spoke in the common room of The Broken Mast. Everyone wore different expressions, though most of them fearful, looking at the travelworn man in their midst. He stood silent as well, but he seemed comfortable, almost casual, as if unaware of the effect his presence had – or just indifferent.
As Aja came down the stairs, he turned to her. “You must be the proprietress. I’ve searched quite a few taverns in this district, but strangely, I never had cause to come here before. Almost as if someone took pains to point me in the wrong direction.”
“I don’t know what that means,” the Sindhian replied, her mouth a thin line. “We serve ale and spirits. Company if that’s your thirst. Nothing more.”
Atreus let his eyes slowly wander across the room before resting on Aja again. “Golden earrings. Clever. But if I must, good mistress, I will rip every piece of jewellery away and make you tell me the truth. I seek a Tyrian, a scar across his eye. He’s murdered several commoners but also a mageknight. He is a maleficar, and I have the full authority of your Empire to bring him to justice.”
Despite her tan skin, the Sindhian woman seemed to pale. “We know nothing of that! We’re simple folk! We’ve never dealt with magic or evil mages of any kind.”
Atreus raised a hand, silencing her. “That’s strange. Because I sense magic in this very moment. Not from you, dressed in gold like a walking headache – just looking at you irritates my mind. It’s coming… from there.” He turned and strode away, crossing the room to enter the wing where the staff of the tavern had their quarters, including the harlots. He pushed a door open, revealing a man in half-dressed state, and a woman standing behind him.
“Look, mate, I already paid!” the man complained; one look from Atreus silenced him.
The spellbreaker grabbed the bed with one hand and lifted it aside as if it weighed nothing. Bending down, he picked up a sheathed sword along with a feather and let the bed drop. He turned to Iris. “I dare say these belong to a Tyrian with a scar on his face. Where can I find him?”
She returned his stare with crossed arms. “No idea.”
Atreus took a deep breath. “You should tell me the truth,” he suggested.
Licking her lips, Iris seemed to waver before she blinked and once more looked defiant. “As I said. No idea.”
The spellbreaker barked with laughter briefly. “To think, of all places, it’s here I’d find such loyalty as to resist my suggestion.” He took another deep breath. “But I will break you if I must.”
“He’s a gladiator!” someone shouted from the doorway.
“You bitch,” Iris spat, looking at the girl who had spoken.
Atreus turned around, ignoring Iris in favour of the other girl. “You should tell me what you know of him,” he suggested.
“He’s with House Ignius. I’ve seen him there on Soldays. A Tyrian with a scar on his face.” Despite being the same height as Atreus, the spellbreaker seemed to tower over her, and she trembled as she spoke.
As for him, he slowly exhaled in relief. “At last. Thank you.” He pushed through the crowd that had gathered, and they tripped over themselves to get out of his way.
