Chapter 13

A frustrated Cade made his way back toward Rotta’s burning hasma, the full moons providing ample light. Razar followed her scent quite successfully for some distance then suddenly it was gone. Razar rounded the spot not far from the hasma where the scent disappeared.

Cade ran a thick palm through his black hair. It made no sense. Razar never lost a scent once tracking it, even when the hunted tried disguising it.

He arrived as the last of the city folk were retreating back into their homes. The bucket brigade was long gone. The fire still flamed but in such a small measure no one cared to watch anymore.

Razar, nose to the ground, searched for Rotta’s scent. Cade sighed. Too many people trampled the trail for Razar to ever find it again. He noticed Max’s body was gone. A half smile crooked his lips. He thought the man’s so called friends would have left him to rot in the streets once emptying his pockets.

In the dim firelight something caught his eye. He walked toward the pool of blood which marked the place Max was dropped when retrieved from the hasma. He studied the trail of blood leading away from the pool. Something about the tracks gave him pause. He bent low to study the ground.

He shook his head in disbelief then stood and followed the trail a few feet. He kneeled to study the tracks once more.

“Impossible,” he muttered. There was only one set of bloody foot prints leading away from the hasma. From the look of the tracks, the boots were trampling bits and pieces of intestine with every step. The steps were close together and seemed awkward, stiff. Not what one would see if Max were carried out on a stretcher or even between two men. Without a second thought Cade called to Razar and put him on the new scent.

In moments, they were making their way swiftly down dark moon light streaked allies. The night was deepening. Cade could smell the blood and bile in streaks and sometimes pools beneath his feet, though it looked more like black ink than blood in the moonlight. Razar never lifted his nose from the ground.

Both hound and Wardex followed the trail to a row of dilapidated old shacks. The one Razar pointed out was nondescript and quiet. Cade did not hesitate. He kicked the door open splintering it into a thousand tiny pieces, the crashing wood an explosion in the silence of the night.

Razar bounded into the dark room and Cade followed sword drawn. The moonlight coming in the shattered door illuminated the empty room. Cade found a lantern.

He saw the thin streaks of blood and intestine on the dirt floor. Razar was scratching at the only other door in the room on the back wall. Cade opened the door and Razar shot into the darkness.

The sweet sickly smell of death hung in the air. Cade entered cautiously though he knew from Razar’s silence the room was empty, or almost. For there, on an old hay stuffed mattress in the corner lay the very dead Max.

Cade walked over to the body and flinched. Max was lying on his back, eyes wide open and completely naked. What was left of the blood and bile in his body saturated the mattress in a peculiar pattern.

Cade leaned closer to the mattress and lowered the lantern. There was an imprint of another body in the bloody mess. The outline was small with arms above the head and legs spread wide.

Cade backed away from the bed. “Come,” he said to Razar.

Razar gave Max one last sniff and led Cade from the room. Cade looked in the front room for any evidence of Rotta or even the occupant of the shack. He found so little he doubted anyone lived there at all. There was no firewood, no food, no clothing; some old herbs in jars, a chair, and a blanket.

“Seek,” Cade said to Razar holding the blanket down for him to smell. The hound immediately picked up the scent. He shot out of the shack and headed down the moonlit alley. Cade looked back. Something tugged at his memory. He waited but it did not come fully. Shaking off the feeling, he continued his pursuit.

The trail ended at the river. Cade watched as Razar circled round and round on the rough wooden pier. He looked down river and saw nothing but darkness.

Chapter 14

Simon LeRoe was locking up his small place of business when Cade approached. It was late, he was tired, and there was nothing in this night’s work a Wardex need know of. He took a deep breath and quickly considered his options.

“Simon LeRoe,” Cade said to the older man.

Simon turned to face Cade slipping the key to the lock in his pocket. “I heard Rotta’s hasma was burned Wardex. You didn’t waste any time.”

Cade watched the man closely. Simon was nervous. He was hiding something.

“Rotta escaped,” Cade said after a moment.

The shock on Simon’s face was genuine.

“Do you know where she has gone?”

“Me?” Simon’s smile was self deprecating.

“Do not play games with me Simon LeRoe,” Cade said. “Rotta’s business was thievery, though her method more brutal than your own. All thieves in Amstel deal with you at one time or another. You can not deny having dealings with the woman.”

Simon opened his mouth to deny just that.

Cade held up a large palm. “I am not here to accuse and arrest Simon LeRoe. There is no need to defend your good name. I believe Rotta sought help from another.”

Simon’s brow furrowed. Rotta didn’t have any friends. He didn’t deal with her professionally for just the reason the Wardex sited, she was far too brutal. There was no finesse in stealing from a dead man. But they had an understanding of sorts, an understanding of thieves. He started to shake his head when a thought occurred to him.

Cade’s eyebrow rose. “Speak it.”

Simon hesitated.

“Are you so afraid Simon LeRoe? All these years I believed you a man of courage, if not a man of honor. Why do you hesitate?” Cade asked.

Simon took a deep breath and looked down the dark empty street. He sighed. “We can not discuss such things out in the open.”

He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He made an excessive amount of noise getting the wooden door open. “Come in Wardex,” he practically bellowed. After a few minutes of struggling with the lock he slowly opened the door. He lit a lantern and moved to his place behind the crate turned table.

Cade lowered his head and entered the shack.

Simon leaned back against the wall and watched Cade sit on the opposite chair.

“Speak it,” Cade said again.

Simon couldn’t help but smile at Cade’s directness. “You know Wardex, I too would like information.”

Cade’s brows rose. “What information?”

“Just curiosity really,” Simon said. “About your clan and the prophecy.”

Cade’s eyes narrowed. “My clan is none of your affair thief. We have more important matters to discuss. Who did Rotta go to for help this night? Do not pretend ignorance. There is nothing of any import you do not know on the streets of Amstel.”

Simon smiled at the backhanded compliment.

“She went to see a witch,” Simon said.

Cade slapped his palm on the top of the crate. “Do not play with me Simon LeRoe.”

Simon patted the air in front of him. “Whoa. I am telling you the truth. She ran to Amstel’s resident witch. The woman DeTac is the only person in all of Amstel who will stand against a Wardex.”

Cade snorted. “Then she is a fool.”

Simon had the sudden need to take the over confident Wardex down a peg or two. “She is no fool. She is older than any living human. She makes her living selling potions to the sickly and to those who can afford her more, um, elaborate mixes.”

“She is an alchemist then?” Cade interjected.

Simon shook his head. “Can an alchemist mix a potion to regrow a finger? Can an alchemist mix a medicine which kills an infant in the womb while not harming the mother in the least? Does an alchemist live over 200 years?”

Cade leaned forward. “I come here for information not fairy tales.”

“This is no fairy tale!” Simon yelled. “You underestimate the witch.”

“Witches are fairy tales!” Cade yelled.

“Then you are the fool Wardex,” Simon said. “For I have seen these things with my own eyes. DeTac is a witch with magic you can not comprehend. And if Rotta is under her protection you will not find her without employing magic of your own.”

Cade scoffed. “I have no magic.”

Simon shrugged. “Then we are finished.”

Cade didn’t have magic but he was born with a mild sixth sense like all the other Wardex before him. It wasn’t anything spectacular and it developed into a bit more as one aged, but right now it was enough to help him out of more than one sticky situation. It was also a fairly reliable lie detector.

He studied Simon’s face. He wasn’t lying. Of course the man could simply believe his outrageous claims. Cade certainly didn’t.
“Do you know where this witch would go to hide?” Cade asked sarcastically. “Somewhere down river perhaps?”

Simon’s eyes widened. “DeTac has left Amstel?”

Cade shrugged. “Rotta’s trail led from what I assume was the old woman’s shack to the river. I believe she is accompanying Rotta to a hiding place outside Amstel.”

Simon swallowed. “It has been said since I was a boy that when DeTac left Amstel it would be the first sign of things to come.”

“Bah,” Cade said. “Can you think of nothing else?”

Simon shrugged.

Cade sighed. “There is nothing in prophecy about a human witch man. Be still.”

“You speak of the prophecy of light Wardex, but there is also a prophecy of darkness not to mention prophecy of other species. And as the Wardex were given to perpetuate and protect the prophecy of the light, there are others chosen to perpetuate the darkness.”

Cade nodded. Prophecy spoke of war and the creatures it mentioned were much worse than a miserable old human woman pretending to be a witch. “I am aware of my enemies Simon LeRoe. Broken down old women claiming powers they do not have are not among them.”

Simon laughed at the young man’s arrogance. “Tell me Wardex. What happened the night you were poisoned?”

Cade’s eyes narrowed, his voice softened to whispser. “Why don’t you tell me.”

Simon frowned. “I do not know anything but rumor.”

“Speak,” Cade bit out.

“The man Max worked for Rotta. But he also worked occasionally for me. I paid him well for small bits of information. It is wise in a city like Amstel to know who is in power and who is behind that power, if you know what I mean. Rotta was the guiding force in this city’s underworld for over five years.” Simon stopped.

Cade sighed. “Must you be so dramatic? I understand you considered yourself somewhat of a romantic thief in your prime, but dispense with the drama and give me the information I seek lest I grow weary and short tempered.”

Simon tried his best to keep from taking offense at Cade’s tone. “You really don’t know do you?”

Cade raised an eyebrow in warning.

“Max gave your body to DeTac when you lay dying from poison. The old witch paid him two gold coins for your heavy carcuss and that of your hound.”

Simon looked at the hound who even now sat at Cade’s side.

Cade did not want to admit it to Simon, but it did make sense. Finding himself well near three days out of Amstel only a day after being poisoned vexed him. But if the old woman truly were capable of such a feat, Cade shook his head. No human outside the Wardex had any sort of power. But perhaps the old woman was not human. Before he could finish the thought, Magus began to hum sending small vibrations down Cade’s spine. The air beside Simon shimmered.

Cade stood drawing the long sword off his back.

A woman appeared at Simon’s shoulder. Long red hair draped an oval shaped face with blue eyes and pouting pink lips. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Cade ever saw. He really hated to have to kill her.