Reaper Academy: Book One

Chapter Fifteen: PLEASE REVIEW

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Articus eyed the crowds around him nervously as they wound their way back to the inn. He checked their tail numerous times but there were too many people to keep track of. Seeing a back alley, he took it. Celia walked numbly beside him.

“I need you here with me,” Articus whispered.

The words weren’t reaching her and it worried him. She had always been a strong woman in his mind. Seeing her now struck a nerve.

He worked his way through the twists and turns of the back alleys with only the map he had memorized as a guide. Thrice he wasn’t sure if he was going the right way but, after a turn or two, he got his bearings again. Pausing randomly, he listened for footsteps behind him but no such sound came to his ears. Two thoughts came to his mind as he rounded the last turn to their inn.

They either already know already where our inn is and are planning to ambush us there, or in route to the portal…or they don’t intent to attack us again.

Articus’s mind raced through the possibilities as he looked both ways down the main street that stretched out in front of their inn. He saw hundreds of faces that he swore he’d seen before, a bad sign.

I’m loosing my nerves. I can’t think. I— Clenching his teeth he killed the thought. Shoving the voice into an imaginary box, he nailed it shut and dropped it into a void of thought.

Now’s not the time Articus. Taking three deep breaths, he scanned the crowds once more. No eyes met his or any bodies that seemed out of place. Everyone seemed to have a place to go. Waiting it out a few more minutes, until he was sure everyone he’d first seen had passed and no one was lingering, he led Celia into the front doors of the inn.

Smiling politely to the innkeeper, he went through the common room and up the stairs to their room. Parking Celia by the door, he pulled out his sa’dka and squatted by the door. Using his foot he eased the door open and peered in from knee level. No one.

Pushing the door wide open he pulled back from the doorway, expecting a bolt to fly through at any moment. No bolt.

He spun passed the doorway to the other side, minimizing his attackable surface. Forcing his breathing down to a calm rhythm, he peered into the doorway again, this time with an angle toward their bathroom. All clear.

Articus grabbed Celia’s hand and hauled her in, shutting the door. Mechanically he checked the bathroom and the closet. Still no sign of an ambush.

Propping a chair against the door, he sat Celia down on the bed and knelt down in front of her.

“Celia?”

Her eyes were still unfocused but he thought he saw a faint hint of recognition from her.

“Celia, its Articus. You are just in shock. Can you hear me? Listen to my voice.”

He had seen men in the same state before. While everyone had their own way of copping with what they had experienced, some just shut themselves off from the real world. It happened usually after a nugget goes through their first real battle, after all their adrenaline leaves them and only a shell remained. Almost always they came back out of it and after a few more battles the nugget got the hardness… almost always. It was imperative to Articus to get her out of that state.

“Celia?” She nodded absently. Thank the Gods.

“Are you hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?”

Although she shook her head, he methodically checked her body for any cuts. None. They had lucked out.

Celia blinked and then lowered her head into her hands. “That poor boy… He-“

“Celia, listen to me,” Articus said patiently. “I need you. I want you to think about everything that just happened objectively. We aren’t out of the woods yet. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded absently. “I think I can. But Articus… He… He…”

“I know. Help me here. He said the Fourth Triangle. You showed me the Reaper’s sign, remember? Mind, Body, and Spirit--three triangles. What could the Fourth Triangle be?”

Something registered in her eyes and slowly she shook her head. “That makes no sense. There is no Fourth Triangle. But he did say that, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Articus said in relief. She was coming out of it, at least partially. “He also was about to say Reaper, not Master Reaper. Do you remember that?”

She nodded.

“We have a problem now.”

This time she looked right at him. Shaking her head, as if to clear her thoughts, she frowned, her lips thinning. Celia was back. “Sorry.”

Articus patted her hands and smiled.

Taking a few deep breaths, she forcibly calmed her features. “My mind is jumbled. What problems do we have now?”

He stood up and paced the room, eyeing the door every other step. “They are either going to ambush us when we head to the portal, or they don’t think of us as a threat anymore…or they are planning something farther out ahead of us that we just can’t see yet. That’s the immediate danger.”

“Long term?”

Articus paused and frowned. “Now they know you are involved some how and they know that we know that Reapers are posing as Darklings. We can also assume that they know that we know about the assassination attempt on the Ce’lian’s heir by this Fourth Triangle. Who is involved and how high up is one thing. What do they plan on doing and why attack the Empress’s daughter is the other. If we go back to Tekal then we will be in danger. They will either attack us there, send us on another bogus mission, or wait for some other opportunity.”

Celia chewed on her lip but nodded. “It depends on the immediate danger question then, and what we are going to do.”

He nodded. “Aye. If they don’t think of us as a threat now, or too powerful of a threat to handle right now—who knows what they have on their plate already—then what are we going to do even if we are safe? And if the Empress and Lady Tyrn already know of this game they are playing—who can we trust and who is in the right? Or if we are in danger, should we go back to Tekal?”

Celia gave him her amused smile, making Articus smile as well. It was good to have her back.

“Are those all the options that you can think of?” She said, still smiling. He grunted but, he too, kept smiling. “We have two and a half hours until the portal opens. I think we should decide by then.”

Articus agreed. He leaned his body against the wall, head back and eyes closed. Too many thoughts. Always getting into trouble, aren’t you Articus?



“We go to Tekal,” Celia finally said.

Articus cracked open an eye at her. “Okay--even if we get ambushed along the way to the portal?”

“Even so. If this Fourth Triangle sees us alive and unruffled, it may unnerve them.”

Articus continued on her train of thought, “And if anyone seems out of the ordinary we grab and interrogate them? Sounds like a stretch, even for me.”

Celia shrugged. “I’m not the type of girl to run away. If they see us as someone they can’t kill no matter what they try—who knows what they will do. Nervous people tend to do stupid things.”

“Girl? How old are you anyways? Two hundred?”

If glares could kill… He smiled innocently at her.

Ignoring him, she continued. “We will have to let a few people know. And we will have to watch each other’s backs. The good news is that since you are my Devotee, it won’t look out of place. What of Lady Tyrn?”

Articus held up his hand. “Let a few people know? I don’t think that is wise. If this Fourth Triangle even suspects that others know, they will be in danger. I may be good but not that good.”

“As much as you’d like think you are the Alpha male, you aren’t,” Celia almost sneered. “We can handle ourselves without your protection.” Articus caught the underlying ‘we’ as Reapers. She wanted to tell a few of her friends—Priscilla in particular, he was sure of it.

“And how many of you do you think will freeze?” Articus said softly but the effect was as damaging as if he had yelled it.

Celia averted her eyes and exhaled loudly.

“Cedrick and Waylon I will agree.” Articus held up his hand before she could argue. “They may be green to your Reaper ways but they know how to handle themselves in the field. Believe it or not, spirit isn’t everything. I’d rather have them watching my six than all the Reapers in Tekal.”

She glowered but finally gave in. “What about Nina?”

“No. She isn’t ready.”

Celia sniffed loudly. “It’s because she is a woman, isn’t it? I’ve seen her against Waylon, they are equal in skill.”

Articus blinked at that. He had noticed the woman’s skill increase dramatically since they started sparing together but he hadn’t thought she’d be at par with Waylon yet. Nor had she told him that she had started sparring with Waylon. It surprised him how much that hurt.

“Against Waylon?”

Celia looked at him skeptically before saying slowly, “Every night they’ve sparred since last week. At first Waylon was trying to teach her but I think he quickly learned how much you had taught her. Last night she had almost beaten him. She really is infatuated with him you know. I don’t see why, you Ce’lians are insufferable with your honor.”

Articus ignored the jab at his land but frowned. No excuse now.

His mentor’s eyes narrowed even further--if that were possible. And then she frowned. “You are jealous, aren’t you?”

“Me? Jealous? I don’t know what you are talking about.”

She tapped her mouth absently. “You like her don’t you? Well I don’t see why not, she is pretty for a Ghourdian and she does look up to you—whether you'll see that or not.”

Articus grounded his teeth and then almost yelled, “Like a sister. I don’t want to see her hurt because she is like a sister to me.”

He hadn’t meant to yell that out and he clamped his mouth shut. Something flashed through her eyes and then she smiled. “I see.”

“I swear you are as bad as Mia.”

That made his mentor glower but, before she could say whatever was on her mind, Articus held up his hand. He had heard a faint creak outside there door.

“But at least she bathes and dresses me,” Articus continued, grabbing his sa’dka and directed his gaze to the door. Celia’s eyes widen slightly and then she too went for her weapons.

“Hell, she even strips for me when she knows I’m looking.”

Articus could have gone into a fit of laughter if it had been any other day. Celia had the strangest look on her face, her attention all on Articus.

Moving with practiced fluidness, he reached the door and yanked it open—tossing the chair aside with ease. Grabbing the hooded man, Articus yanked the stranger into the room and slammed him into the wall. Hand to throat, Articus lifted the sa’dka to the man’s face and the steel blade slowly grew closer and closer to the wanna-be-attacker’s face. And then the hood fell away.

“Priscilla? What the hell are you doing here?” Celia demanded.

The red head was wide-eyed and gasping for breath.

“Articus, put her down!” Celia commanded him but he ignored her.

Articus sniffed deeply and smelled Mia’s soap on her. She had spoken with her. He could hear Priscilla’s heart slowing down but still beating rapidly. When Celia demanded him to put her down again, and he didn’t, the Caprian woman’s heart began to beat faster.

“What are you doing here,” Articus asked calmly.

The woman’s eyes went to Celia frantically but Articus shook her violently. “Don’t look at her. She can’t help you. You talk to me. What are you doing here?” His voice was calm and collected. It unnerved the hell out of her.

Priscilla’s heart went into double time. “I--I--I…”

“Articus you are frightening her.” Celia said soothingly. “Let her down and let’s hear what she has to say.”

“I’ll tell you this once and only once,” Articus said dangerously to Celia. “War is my job.”

Celia looked from Articus to Priscilla and then back. “You don’t think she could possibly be involved in—“

“Quite,” he said. Then, turning to Priscilla, he said, “I’m not a very nice person. Talk.”

Priscilla seemed to understand some part of the situation because her heart slowed down a step, as well as her breathing. She nodded and said slowly, “I found Cedrick in your room talking with your slave about Stones. He told me that Celia got a level 2 assignment and what you told him. He was worried. I- I talked George into telling me where you both went and I got him to agree on letting me come here.”

Articus tilted his head and then he leaned closer towards her, his sa’dka growing another inch, a breath away from her eye.

“And how did you find us?”

She swallowed audibly and Articus heard Celia shift uncomfortably. It wasn’t something that Celia hadn’t thought of. They had both been real careful.

“G-George told me where the inn was, that the Darkling was spotted at. I figured you didn’t want to be seen in the merchant square. This was the only place that was near enough without being seen. I-I asked the innkeeper if anyone had come in recently. I-I posed as a Peacekeeper…see?”

She tried to raise her hand but froze when Articus made a warning sound. Celia reached over and pulled out a paper with an official looking seal.

“It’s a Detective class Peacekeeper document. Used sometimes in investigations,” Celia reported.

“I know what it is,” Articus said quietly. Slowly, he lowered the woman down to her feet. Gasping, Priscilla fell to her knees.

“I wasn’t—expecting such a—welcome,” she said miserably.

“Long day,” Articus said in a way of apology.

“What’s going on?” Priscilla looked at Celia.

Celia hesitated and looked at Articus. Priscilla caught the look and her eyebrows shot up, eyeing Articus now as well. “Celia?”

Articus didn’t know if he could trust anyone, let alone another Reaper. He had been a traitor once, on an infiltration mission. Articus had made friends and even met a man he could have called his best friend, if it had been another time. Working in the Vanguard, during times of peace, meant helping the local Peacekeepers occasionally. Articus had helped infiltrate a local gang who had been trying to sell Rush, a dangerous hallucinogen drug, in mass quantities. It was one of the hardest missions he had ever done, using the trust of his friends.

Articus should have said no, but Celia looked too pained. Sighing, Articus nodded. To hell with logic. ‘I’d rather die young and foolish than old and toothless.’ Damn you rand.

They told her everything and the more they talked, the more Priscilla gaped. Articus started with his encounter with the so called Darklings yesterday, and his logic behind his suspicions. Celia took up the story and told what had just happened today, making Articus sound like some demigod of a hero—which he had to correct her more than once.

When they finished, Priscilla exhaled loudly. “I need a drink.”

“You see our predicament?” Celia asked quietly.

“I do, sister.” Priscilla replied tiredly, as if the weight of the situation was all on her shoulders now. “And I’d put my money on the Head Mistress if I was a betting gal.”

They obviously weren’t sisters so Articus figured it was an endearment. The later, however, surprised him. Celia beat him to the question, “Why do you think that?”

Or are you laying out false trails?

Articus hated being paranoid.

“Because she has been acting strangely this year--almost eager. You aren’t on the Board, you haven’t seen how she has changed.”

“The Board?” Articus asked.

Celia glared at him but it didn’t last long.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Priscilla replied. “Besides, he has had more experience with Darklings these past two weeks than most of those lazy bastards had this century. We are growing too soft and fewer Darklings are being found. They are hiding from the Finder’s Stone somehow.”

Articus coughed politely. She reminded him of Guinavev, or maybe it was something all women did that he hadn’t noticed before.

Both women glared at him and almost automatically he had his hands up.

“The Board,” Celia said patiently, “is similar to your High Council and Council of Thirteen rolled up into one. They are the governing body of Tekal and are the entity that negotiates contracts with other lands.”

“I see. And you are on it?”

Priscilla nodded. “Yes, but I’m not a major player on the Board. There are nine of us but the Head Mistress has only a selected few friends who she talks with as her unofficial advisors.”

“Let me guess. Nicolas, Reed, and Fal?”

Priscilla blinked. “Yes, how did you know?”

“I think I just figured out who some of the members are in the Fourth Triangle.”

The two women silently starred at him.

“A play on words,” Priscilla said slowly. “But how did you know it would be them?”

Articus told them what he’d seen in front of the Pier Seven and what Cedrick had told him.

“So you think Wes and Baine are in on this as well?” Celia asked.

“A safe assumption--but, as much as I’d like to believe that as the truth, we can’t see it as fact yet. In fact we don’t have enough proof on any of this, only speculation and coincidence.”

Priscilla nodded her agreement. “You two should head back now, it’s about that time. I’ll catch a later window. Tell George you didn’t see me and I’ll keep my eyes open. You are going to tell Cedrick and Waylon?”

Articus nodded, “And Nina.”

He caught Celia smiling approvingly but he dutifully ignored her.

“What of Lady Tyrn?” Priscilla pressed.

Articus hesitated. He knew she had something to do with all of this. Deep down, he knew. It was a dangerous game that he had jumped into. What Articus wanted to do was sit General Briar down for a nice one-on-one chat but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. General Briar, while a friend, was loyal to the Empress--and by association the Lady Tyrn. His friend would lie to his face if he believed it would be what the Lady wanted.

The dilemma that Articus had learned early on his military career was that the higher you were promoted, the more moral decisions you were faced. Similar to his six-sense, he somehow knew that the Lady Tyrn was a manipulative woman who would use him.

What Articus had come to realize, right then, was that he had changed since leaving Ce’l. He used to think of himself as an Empress’s man, ready to follow any orders. But since living in Tekal, he had come to realize that the Empress, and any other Lord out there for that matter, was no better than he. It was something Celia had taught him.

So why get myself any deeper in this mess? Let the Head Mistress kill Tyrn or the other way around. Survival. Ditch Tekal and head out on the road, the Darkling on his right shoulder said. Then a smaller voice said, Because the Empress gave you a home and that’s the least you could do. And believe it or not, Tekal is your home as well. This game they are playing is going to either destroy one or the other. Prevent it. Screw the other guy.

The last thought made Articus question his sanity. I have two imaginary men in my head, great.

“Articus?” Celia asked, worry creasing her forehead.

“Sorry, just thinking. No, don’t tell her. Not yet. We play it out and see what their next move is.”

Priscilla looked at Celia questioning but his mentor nodded. Shrugging, the Caprian woman tossed her hood up and started for the door.

Celia held up her hand. “Where are you going?”

“To see Clyde. He will be upset if he learned I came to town without stopping by.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she said it.

“You wouldn’t,” Celia gasped.

“What’s this?” Articus asked as fleeting thoughts about cats and curiosity came to his mind. It was a nice change though, from the seriousness of the situation.

“Celia didn’t tell you about the time she got arrested here?” Priscilla asked innocently.

“Out!” Celia almost screamed, pushing her friend out the door as her friend laughed hysterically.

Slamming the door, Celia sighed loudly. “I swear, if she weren’t my best friend I’d strangle her.”

“Thanks for not mentioning the thing,” Articus said between a smile.

She smiled weakly and then shrugged. “She doesn’t need to know all the things about my student.”

“All? What do you two talk about anyways?”

“None of your damn business. Now grab your stuff, we are leaving.”

Grinning, Articus picked up the few things they had and went down to fetch Ronin. All kidding aside, as soon as they were out on the road, they kept their eyes sharp and their hands clear for their weapons.

Cautiously, they walked to the portal room.

Ten pain staking minutes later, they reached the portal without any ambushes. A clock that had been hidden in the corner from Articus’s view before pinged the fifth hour past noon. Raising her hand up, Celia touched five glyphs with her spirit and the portal wavered into a low quality mirror.

Looking back down the hallway, Articus sent a silent prayer to the headless boy before stepping through the portal… into yet another known trap.

My life is like a damn Stones game.