Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

K ormac's second kept chopping at the door until he'd made an opening large enough he could reach in and shove at the bar that pinned the door shut. Despite the unsavory air that wafted, Kormac entered. Right away he saw bodies. Two men collapsed over a table, the cards they'd been playing smeared with dried blood. The slashes that killed them striped across their backs, exposing their spines. Their weapons still leaned against their chairs. They'd never even grabbed them, just died where they sat. Troubling, as it confirmed some of what Ioan claimed: that they never saw the threat coming.

"Why didn't they fight?" Lomar waved his hand between the pair of bodies.

"Probably asleep on watch."

"While playing cards? And then didn't wake when their partner got murdered?" Lomar didn't sound convinced.

"Possible if there weren't any screams or noise." Kormac sought to find reason but even he had a hard time believing what he stated.

With Lomar and his axe taking the lead, they headed up the stairs, a winding circle with landings wide enough to lay out some bedrolls. Many held bodies slashed to pieces.

Kormac crouched to eye the savage cuts. He glanced at Lomar. "No bite marks and the slices are clean."

"Yeah, it's not looking like claws ripped them," Lomar agreed. "I'd say a sword, but why so many cuts? An invader wouldn't waste time dicing. They'd kill and move on to the next target."

Kormac's mouth pinched. "This feels angry. Retaliatory."

"Someone pissed at the garrison?" Lomar asked in surprise. "For what? They haven't seen a skirmish in our lifetime." The lack of action was the main reason why they sent the worst of the worst to serve there.

"We don't know how they behaved so far from the citadel. Could be someone in the nearby villages had a bone to pick. Theft or property damage. A daughter besmirched. A family member killed or maimed by a drunken soldier." It happened, and when it did those who acted with dishonor met the ultimate punishment. Kormac didn't brook abuse of his people.

"One thing that makes no sense is how did someone get in, kill them, and get out? The door was barred from inside."

"You're assuming there isn't a hidden entrance." Kormac had a ready reply even as he wondered the same. He'd never heard any mention of a secret doorway and the place had been built of stone atop more stone. "Let's see what's on the top level." The wide window at the very top most likely held a rope that would explain how the perpetrator escaped.

They continued up the winding stairs, finding more bodies on the next landing—none of them speaking, to Kormac's relief. He'd almost convinced himself he'd imagined Ioan's corpse giving him that odd message.

The final floor showed the most carnage. The remaining troops, nine by his count, also dead, killed with the same kind of savagery with one exception. Two of the bodies held weapons. One, whom he didn't recognize, gripped a bloodied sword, showing he'd fought until the cut across his throat that almost took off his head. The second armed combatant…

"Is that Khaal?" Lomar murmured.

"Yes." Kormac recognized the man.

The Lieutenant sat, leaning against the wall, showing a few cuts to his arms and a slash across his halberd. Nothing deadly, most likely defensive in nature. He'd died from the gash across his neck caused by the dagger he still held.

"This makes it seem like he killed himself," Lomar remarked, his forehead creased.

"He did, but only after he murdered his men." Kormac indicated the sword by Khaal's corpse, the blade covered in gore.

"The lieutenant was behind their murders?" Lomar didn't hide his disbelief.

"So it appears. It would explain why no one fought. They wouldn't have expected their commander to attack."

"But why?"

"Probably taken by some kind of madness." It happened. Swamp sickness, even age, could addle a man's wits and morals.

"That one fought." Lomar pointed to the only one who appeared to have tried to save himself. "Why him and no one else?"

A good question. Kormac returned to that corpse and crouched by it. He noticed the man's weapon-free hand clutched a chain. It took a bit to pry the rigid fingers open to pull it free. He dangled the medallion, carved with some of the same symbols on his bracers. Interesting. He'd never seen it replicated before and he did wonder how a common solider came to possess one. He tucked it in his pocket before rising.

"Have the bodies cleared. I want them burned before nightfall," Kormac ordered.

He left Lomar to organize while he hunted out Khaal's private quarters. He entered, expecting to see signs of the lieutenant's madness only to find everything in its place. A bed tidily made. Clothing hung on hooks. The surfaces of furniture covered with only a light layer of dust. He rummaged around but found nothing. No manifesto or reason for Khaal's actions. The inkwell sat beside a clean sheet of paper.

As darkness fell, Kormac headed outside the garrison and joined Lomar, who was directing the stacking of the bodies for the bonfire. So many bodies and one man to blame.

Given the massacre indoors, they'd chosen to camp outside the garrison, far from the stench of death left behind. It would take a deep cleaning before anyone could inhabit the barracks, but no amount of scrubbing would remove the stigma of what happened.

He retired to his tent—which was larger than the others—to eat his evening meal. Lomar joined him. As they chewed on the hardtack and dried meat they'd brought, his second and closest friend talked about what they'd discovered.

"I can't believe Khaal went mad and killed his men. I didn't know him well, but he always seemed like the dependable sort." Lomar shook his head.

"He was," Kormac agreed. "I know he struggled after he lost his wife and child to the fever a few years ago. He was the one to request the garrison posting when the old commander retired."

"It doesn't make sense," Lomar murmured. "The way no one fought."

"One solider did."

"One out of a hundred. Some of the men are muttering about magic being at play."

"Magic?" Kormac scoffed. "Magic isn't real."

"There was a time when people believed it existed. Think of Acca, the land of supposed witches," Lomar reminded.

Kormac sneered. "Charlatans."

"Don't be so sure of that," Lomar insisted.

"Surely you don't believe." Kormac's brow arched.

"Yesterday I wouldn't have, but I don't see how one man could have killed so many with barely a mark."

"He murdered most in their sleep."

"Yes, but a good number appeared to have been awake. A room full of soldiers would have reacted when Khaal began swinging his blade, but they didn't."

An inconvenient fact that Kormac also didn't understand. "Could have been a drug. Or perhaps they were all stricken by an illness."

Lomar recoiled. "Better hope not since we took no precaution."

"Since we can't be sure of the cause, no supplies from the garrison should be consumed Also, keep an eye on the men. Any signs of erratic behavior are to be reported immediately."

With that command, they went to bed, with the men rotating the watch.

The night passed without incident.

Despite having cleared the garrison, they didn't leave the next day. Kormac and Lomar spent the morning scouring through the fort, looking for clues. They found nothing.

After the midday meal, Kormac stood outside, eyeing the Pass.

"What are you looking for?" Lomar asked, joining him.

"A clue." Kormac pointed to the fresh fallen powder. "No recent tracks but…" He crouched and swept the snow to show the icier patch underneath. He pointed. "Footprints." The size and shape were consistent with the boots his soldiers wore.

"Not surprising. Khaal probably had someone checking for activity in the pass. After all, the garrison is here to ensure nothing comes through."

"I'm going to look."

"Not alone you aren't," Lomar stated before putting his fingers to his mouth for a strident whistle.

"I don't need a sitter," Kormac grumbled.

"Too bad," Lomar replied.

The whistle brought three soldiers at a jog. "You're coming with us," Lomar stated.

Two of them immediately went ahead to scout while the third dropped behind to watch their backs.

Their boots crunched the ice under the snow as they headed into the pass. The cold deepened as they entered the slit in the mountain. The sun still shone, but the high walls on either side caused deep shadows. They saw no signs of life. Odd, really. Even in the coldest of winter at the citadel there would be tracks of animals scavenging.

"This place doesn't feel right," Lomar murmured low enough only Kormac could hear.

He understood but would never admit it. "Don't tell me you're going to start believing the old wives' tales about monsters," he teased.

"There've been rumors in the marketplace by the Ulkruuba border that dragons have returned."

"Dragons." Kormac snorted.

Lomar shrugged. "I know, it sounds implausible but at least two traders I talked to claimed they're everywhere. One said it's all they're talking about in the ports. Apparently, ships have been lost due to dragon attacks."

"Superstitious sailors," Kormac scoffed. "It's more likely a storm took those vessels."

"Maybe." Lomar didn't sound convinced as they continued crunching their way up the path. "What are we looking for anyhow?"

"Anything out of the ordinary."

They found it in the middle of the pass.

The two scouting soldiers located it first and shouted, "Warlord, you'll want to see this."

They broke into a jog that took them around a slight bend and then slowed their steps. Some of the snow and ice caking the mountain had sheared off, tumbling with it massive hunks of rock, enough to block the passage. So much for enemies invading from the land of mist. The snow layered upon the rubble indicated it had been here for a while.

"Guess it's a dead end," Lomar announced.

An agreeing Kormac was about to turn around and head back when he spotted it. He pointed. "There's a rope." The braided length hung down on the far left of the pile and appeared to be tethered at the peak of the mound.

"Guess Khaal wasn't letting an avalanche prevent him from doing his duty."

Kormac glanced at Lomar. "Shall we take a look?"

"You're going to peek whether I agree or not," Lomar concluded.

He was.

Kormac eschewed the rope and chose to climb, using his hands and feet to find purchase. The soldiers used the dangling length, but Lomar followed and passed him, nimble as a goat. They ascended to the top of the heap and glanced past it to see…

Kormac blinked but the beast resting on the ground remained. A large creature with wings tucked at its back.

Lomar nudged him and whispered, "Still think dragons aren't real?"