“Torture, Yohan?” Theron’s whisper trembles with discomfort. “While I abhor their actions, I am not… accustod to such thods. And what truth could they offer beyond their greed? They stumbled upon Reynard’s grave, perhaps drawn by rumors. Simple grave robbers, not orchestrators of this blight.”
“We could take them to Oakhaven or Three Pines and seek a magistrate,” you reply, weighing the delay against the pressing blight. “Or leave them bound here, take their weapons, and let them find their way when they wake. Our primary mission, or justice for Reynard’s disturbed remains?”
Kneeling beside the closest robber, you pry the tarnished silver locket from his slack fingers. The carvings are familiar—the very locket you gave Master Elara. You hold it up; the realization cools the blood in your veins.
“This is the locket I gave to Master Elara,” you say, grim. “She would not have parted with it willingly. If this is the one, how did these scavengers co by it? Soone within Oakhaven, or with access to the Hall, has been compromised.”
Theron snatches the locket, eyes wide. “By the Ancestors… you are right, Yohan! I saw Elara place it in her secure vault after your eting. This is impossible—unless soone in the Hall has been working against us. A leak, or worse, a traitor. They are no longer re grave robbers. They are a lead.”
You ask about magical ans to communicate at distance—a paired book, a glass, a spell. You ntion the paired edge-slate in your cabin, used by your kin to coordinate hunters, but four days’ travel stand between you and it. Theron shakes his head. Direct magical communication is rare and beyond the Hall’s imdiate ans; Master Elara’s few artifacts are reserved for dire state need. The slate is intriguing but out of reach.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on .
Threaten them and return them to the magistrate in Three Pines,” Theron concludes. “It delays our journey, but this treachery in Oakhaven must be reported. The magistrate can question them and send word to the Hall.”
You rouse Thug 1 roughly. He blinks up at you, terror in his eyes as you thunder, “Where did you get this, and how did you find this grave? Tell , or I leave you trussed for the beasts to pick clean.” He shakes his head, lips sealed.
You gag him, then hoist him by his bound feet, securing the hammock rope over a stout branch. He hangs inverted, slowly spinning, face going purple against the night sky. You drag Thug 2 awake. Seeing his friend suspended, he breaks.
“Please, no—I'll talk!” he stamrs. “The locket… we got it from a stablehand in Oakhaven! Na's Joric. He said he found it near the Hall, like it was dropped. Said he'd pay good coin for anyone who could find who it belonged to, to return it—said it looked valuable. Then he offered more coin to check out a fresh grave in the woods, where a scholar had gone missing. Drew us a crude map!” He babbles, pointing toward Oakhaven. “Told us to be careful—said the scholar’s companion was a big, quiet brute.”
Theron steps forward, stunned. “Joric, you say? A new hire? Unbelievable.”
You cut the suspended man down. He collapses gasping. With your axe you fashion a crude travois, the sa sort used to haul large ga, and strap both robbers to it. Their forms ride awkwardly as you begin the trek back toward Three Pines.
Theron walks beside you, voice tight with anger and thought. “He's a new hire at the Hall—a month or so. Quiet, eager to please. For him to be involved… selling information to scavengers… it speaks of a deeper rot. Soone must have put him up to it, or given him the locket. This is deliberate, Yohan, and a blow against the Hall.”
The travois scrapes through the gloom. Dawn tints the eastern sky pale gray as you press on to rouse the magistrate and bring this new, troubling lead into the light
Reviews
All reviews (0)