Every time he awoke, he felt something new growing inside of him. A stone that sat in his stomach and grew with every waking.
Rage.
At himself, for surviving.
And at the bandit, for taking away those he loved.
Rage bred purpose.
He began stretching, running through what exercises he could. His wounds closed up on his chest, thanks in no small part to the constant ministrations of the healers.
After eight days, he stood up, put on his bloody wolfblade uniform, and walked out of the hall of healing, ignoring the protests behind him. He could clean and dress his own wounds, and they had done little else for him the past day. Rest could come later.
Brandt ignored the stares as he walked down the street toward the center of Landow. When people saw his uniform, they moved out of his way. A few brave souls offered to help, but were silenced when they glanced into his eyes.
The city guard was headquartered in a small fortified building near the center of town. Watchmen came and went regularly, but Brandt felt a sense of unease over the place, a grief that hadn’t yet found a home.
When Brandt passed through the open gate, activity in the courtyard came to a stop. Several of the watch turned and bowed to him. Brandt returned the bow, unsure of where to proceed.
A young officer saved him from embarrassment. He approached, gave a quick bow, and asked, “How can I help you, sir?”
“Is your commander here?”
The officer nodded. “He hasn’t left much since the incident. I’ll take you to him.”
The young man led Brandt through the narrow halls of the building, escorting him to a room nestled deep within. “This is Commander Scot.”
Brandt and Scot exchanged introductions and the commander motioned Brandt to a seat.
Brandt respected the commander after only a glance. He sat tall, and his head was shaved. Everything in his command post was clean and orderly. He looked the part of a warrior, and from the way he moved, Brandt imagined it wasn’t a false pretense.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Scot began.
“Thank you.” Brandt noticed the bags under the commander’s eyes and the disheveled uniform. Scot had lost warriors, too. “And I’m sorry for yours.”
The commander nodded. “It would have been much worse if you and the other wolfblades hadn’t shown up. There’s not a man or woman in the watch that isn’t thanking you in their heart right now.”
The words lifted Brandt’s spirits. His friends deserved the recognition, little as it would mean to them now. But hearing accolades wasn’t why he had come. “What can you tell me about that night?”
Scot looked down at his desk in disgust. “Not enough. We haven’t been able to track down the bandit or the missing wolfblade.”
Brandt’s eyes shot up. “What did you say?”
“We haven’t been able to find—”
Brandt cut him off with a snap of his hand. “There’s a missing wolfblade?”
“Yes. A woman, of average height, with long dark hair. She might have a water affinity.”
“Ana.”
Scot made a note on a sheet of paper. “You didn’t know?”
“The healers told me I was the only one found alive.” Brandt raged at the healer until he realized his mistake. She hadn’t lied. It had only been the day after the battle. They probably hadn’t realized a body was missing yet.
Ana was alive.
She had to be. Brandt hadn’t seen her near the end of the fight. But what happened? Where had she gone?
Brandt shook his head to clear it. Ana lived. He would find her, but that still wasn’t why he had sought the commander. “Have you come any closer to learning the criminal’s identity?”
“No.” Scot’s anger reflected Brandt’s own. “With the strength of the man’s martial arts and the power of his affinity, it makes sense to assume a man of at least some wealth or power. That level of skill takes years of dedicated training. We’ve been interviewing possible leads, but nothing has come of it, yet.”
“Can you give me writ to investigate on my own?”
Scot frowned. “Do you need it?”
“Probably not, but if someone challenges my authority, it’ll be much faster to turn to you than my own commander.”
Scot considered. Brandt could decipher his uncertainty easily enough. Wolfblades were military. On paper, their authority exceeded that of the city guard, but the reality was often far more tangled. Local officials could tie up Brandt’s investigation for weeks if they challenged him and required letters from his commander, stationed hundreds of leagues away.
Scot looked up, studying him. “Very well.” He took out a sheet of paper, wrote his orders on it with a neat hand, then pressed his seal near the bottom. He held out the paper. “If you find anything, let me know. We’ll offer whatever help we can. The watch is always at your call.”
Brandt nodded and took the paper.
It was time for him to find the man who had killed his friends.
14
Alena woke to the sound of Jace pounding on her door, yelling at her to wake up. She blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to stitch together two very different realities.
She was a student at Landow Academy. And she was a thief who had watched brave warriors die the night before.
The worlds collided, making her head spin. Jace’s pounding on the door didn’t help.
“I’m up.” When the banging didn’t stop, she yelled, “I’m up!”
The cacophony ceased and she heard Jace’s quick footsteps down the stairs. Alena rubbed at her eyes. She’d feared she wouldn’t sleep well, but as soon as her head had hit the pillow she had fallen into a deep slumber. Exhaustion overtook fear.
The morning had come far too soon. She closed her eyes, the world spinning around her. She was Alena, an overtired and ambitious student. A glint of morning sunlight caught the blade of the knife her father had given her. She reached over and grabbed it, taking strength in the solidity of the weapon.
She would bring it to academy
