Chương 50: Chapter 49: The Khelganor Warrior

Selena ran through the markets, clutching only her purse against her chest as if it held her very life instead of a few measly coins. The crushing guilt she had felt when saying goodbye to Kaela was utterly replaced by an imperious need for answers, a hunger so voracious it devoured every other thought. It drove her to hurry, to press her pace through the stalls and bystanders, dodging carts and pack animals with an agility she didn't know she possessed.

But as she drew closer to the white house of the Black Lock, something strange caught her eye. People seemed to be huddling together in the alleyway leading toward it, forming a shapeless mass of bodies and morbid curiosity. It was a macabre spectacle, a forbidden attraction that nevertheless drew crowds like honey draws flies. She avoided them by taking a detour, a side passage that also held people, but not as many.

She finally managed to push through the sea of bodies, feeling elbows and shoulders shoving her, the murmur of hundreds of voices swirling around her like the hum of an enraged beehive. Something in her chest felt displaced, out of whack, like a clock whose ticking had fallen out of sync. This is clearly abnormal, she thought as she forced her way through. No one would approach the guild unless summoned or on business. This is something else.

Regardless, driven by the kind of determination only obsession can provide, she reached the spot where she had first observed the house with Kaela—the hiding place behind the woodpile where they had watched the men playing odds and evens. And then she saw it. Guards in steel armor stood before the house. They weren't the same as before, those in tanned leather with daggers at their belts.

These wore the same emblem on their pauldrons —the tower and the sword— but their armor was full plate, burnished steel that reflected the sunlight with blinding flashes. Closed helms obscured their faces, turning them into anonymous figures, faceless soldiers. In one hand, a longsword; in the other, a shield bearing the same crest. —These aren't guards— Selena muttered under her breath, barely whispering to herself. But it was a woman who replied in the same low tone, appearing at her side like a shadow.

—They say they are soldiers under the Baron's command. Selena turned her head. The woman was looking for her in the face, her small, sharp eyes scrutinizing the scene with the same morbid fascination as everyone else. —There are three more inside the house— the woman continued, her voice a thread. —See the emblem on their shoulders? They aren't guards. A guard could never afford steel armor. Selena didn't respond. She couldn't. Something had happened.

Just as she expected, just as she had sensed since seeing the crowd gather. Something terrible had occurred in the white house, and her mind was already weaving connections, sketching scenarios, fearing the worst. She moved a little closer, passing through the crowd with the caution of one who doesn't want to draw attention but needs to see. Bit by bit, she gained ground until she was almost in the front row. There, the scene revealed itself with a clarity that turned her blood to ice.

The hallway leading to the entrance was bathed in dried blood. It wasn't drops or splatters; it was an extensive, dark pool that had spread and then dried, forming a maroon crust over the earth. The smell of rust rose from it with an intensity that hit her nostrils and climbed up her throat, that metallic taste she already knew, which she had tasted in her own mouth that first morning in this body. Beside one of the low walls, a man had a small axe buried in his chest.

The weapon had penetrated deeply, splitting the sternum, and around the handle, blood had surged and then clotted, forming a dark circle on his clothes. His eyes were open, glassy, fixed on the sky he would never see again. Another man, near the door, lay in an impossible position. He was missing an entire hand —the stump was a mess of torn flesh and splintered bone— and his belly was ripped open; his viscera spilled onto the ground like a macabre cluster of pale and red grapes.

An uncontrollable tremor ran through her from head to toe. Nausea rose up her esophagus with an urgency she couldn't control, and the bitter taste of vomit filled her mouth. With superhuman effort, she swallowed, contained it, and resisted. She began to retreat into the sea of people, pushing bodies aside, making her way back toward the safety of distance. But it was then, just as she was about to escape, when she was almost breathing the less polluted air of the side streets, that she heard the sound of a whistle.

Sharp, piercing, cutting through the murmur of the crowd like a knife. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. A man shouted loudly, his voice amplified by the need to be heard by hundreds: —Anyone who remains here will be brought to trial for obstruction in the search for the murderer! The whistle blew again, a demand, a warning. —Rejoice! The Baron told us to give you up to three warnings! This is the second!

Selena walked faster, moving away, feeling panic begin to spread through the crowd like a trail of gunpowder. It was then she heard the man speak again, but she couldn't understand what he said; the words were lost in the rising clamor. What was immediately heard by the human mass were screams. Screams of pain, of surprise, of fear. And the dull thud of something hitting someone, a wet, terrible noise that needed no translation. Then she felt a hand grab her arm.

It was the same woman from before, the one with the small, sharp eyes. Her face was pale, but her gaze maintained an impressive coldness. She whispered in a low voice, barely a breath: —Run, little one. She shook her head quickly and added: —It isn't good to stay and watch. Selena broke into a run. But her mind, that tireless machine, remembered why she had come. Curiosity —an engine as powerful as fear— triumphed over terror for an instant.

She stopped among those fleeing, and of those running back, she asked what had happened with the urgency of someone who needed to know before it's too late. No one knew, or no one wanted to say. Until a young man stopped in front of her. He was panting, catching his breath after the sprint, but in his eyes, there was something more than fear: there was knowledge. —You want answers? — he said between gasps. —I'll give them to you. But this is worth at least two bronze crowns.

From how you're dressed, maybe you don't have them. He took a deep breath, searching for air. —I won't risk myself for less. Selena didn't hesitate. Her hand was already inside her purse, her fingers finding the cold coins. —Follow me— she said in a hurried, low voice, and she ducked into a side alley, away from the crowd, the danger, and the steel soldiers. A few minutes later, they were near the central market street of the West District.

The usual bustle of buyers and sellers enveloped them, a bubble of normalcy amidst the madness. Selena reached into her bag and handed him the two copper crowns. The young man looked at them for a moment, his eyes evaluating the metal, perhaps weighing if the risk was worth it. Then he tucked them into a pouch hanging from his chest like a necklace, a treasure protected close to the heart. —Speak— Selena told him bluntly, without pleasantries, with nothing but urgency, burning her lips.

The boy's expression didn't change. His eyes kept moving, scanning both sides of the street, looking for threats, ensuring no one was watching them. Only once he felt safe, only when he confirmed the crowd was anonymous and distracted, did he begin to speak. —I saw it all— he said, his voice a fast, pressing whisper. —I went to find my father. He plays odds and evens every morning in front of that house. He paused, as if reliving the scene required physical effort. —But when I got there, there was a man.

He was tall. Very tall. With blonde hair and a poorly kept beard. I can swear he was the tallest man I've ever seen. Selena felt her heart skip a beat. She knew. She had known since she saw the blood. —He came with a boy from the guild in one hand— the youth continued, his voice trembling now. —He was dragging him by the hair. The boy's face was deformed from the blows, but he was still speaking, still pleading. And on his back... a massive great sword. He reached for air, as if the words were choking him.

—When he reached the entrance, the two guards drew their knives. But the man... the man smiled. He trembled visibly, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe it. —The evilest smile I've ever seen in my life. He dropped the boy on the ground and unsheathed the great sword. Then... then he did it. With a single stroke, he slashed that guard. The man lost his hand and his intestines in the same movement. Selena felt the air freeze in her lungs.

—The other tried to surprise him from behind— the boy continued, —but he pulled a small axe he wore at his belt and threw it. Straight into the chest. Another pause. Another gasp. —Then he went into the house. I don't know what happened inside. But the screams... the screams of women and men, things breaking... until I noticed someone's head coming out the window. His eyes widened drastically at the memory. —The same window the leader of the Black Lock had run through in his blue robe.

He tried to flee, but the giant cornered him against a wall and kicked him in the head. Over and over. Until he fell to the ground. Selena listened without blinking, almost without breathing. —Once there, while the leader was crawling, the giant yelled something at him. In Norrun. It was with a strength and a rage I've never seen. And the leader didn't stop, he couldn't. The giant just moved his great sword again; he cut a tendon in his leg. The boy swallowed hard. —And then he left.

He left him there, crying and terrified, while he tried to get up, limping. He took another deep breath and then looked Selena in the eyes. Hers were wide open, so wide they hurt. —He was surely a Khelganor warrior; Papa says they are the deadliest. I'm going— the boy said. —Mama will ask why I'm late. Without another word, he took off running, losing himself in the market crowd with the speed of someone who has learned to disappear when necessary. But Selena no longer saw him.

Her mind was elsewhere; in the scene the boy had painted with words. The massive giant Bjorn, the mercenary with the scar, the man who had guarded her door for two silver crowns, killing an entire guild with staggering ease. Mangling bodies, ripping open bellies, throwing axes, kicking heads until the bones gave way. A bodyguard for two silver crowns. That's what the original Selena had paid for his services. Two silver crowns for a man capable of this.

And only one thought could come clearly to her mind, sharp like the edge of a great sword: He is a monster.