Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) (18 page)

As the dagger rested at Akias’ side, Arianna saw something from the corner of her eye. The sword Das threatened her with fell to the snow at her feet, dripping with blood. Arianna peered around Akias, confused and panicked.

Das’ mouth went slack as if in shock. His hands hung loose at his side, eyes wide in horror. A different sword protruded from his neck, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. Blood rained to the snow as he dropped to his knees, a whimper escaping his lips.

His blonde head slammed to the mud to join his sword, and Akias jumped up in a vortex of black robes, reaching for his weapon. Arianna clambered backwards, crawling through the snow and away from the scene.

She heard him screech as a leather-gloved hand landed severed at her feet. Fear soared through her body as she scampered backwards, still on the ground. Seconds later, she stared into the deadened eyes of Akias. His impressive cloak drenched in blood, and the golden snake at his chest dripped red.

Arianna’s body shook. Death would meet her soon. Gathering all she could muster, she tore her eyes from the massacre.
Mud, blood, and snow.
These things she knew well, but dead regulators at her feet, this was something quite different. She raised her head to her executioner as he stepped forth from the shadows.

“You…” she whispered in shock. Arianna stood to meet her maker. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

His body loomed over her like a tower swathed in black clothing. Arianna shriveled under his powerful presence. His skin dripped in sweat, and piercing, dark eyes devoured every inch of her as his lips formed a hard line where she had once seen many smiles.

Large, tensed hands gripped a single jeweled sword whose blade curved dangerously inward. It swayed at his side, dripping blood onto the ground, warming the snow. Weak in the knees, Arianna stood, lifting her eyes to meet the slayer.

She saw his muscles tighten and the veins in his hand bulge as he clenched tighter at his weapon. His gaze burned a hole in her heart, and she whimpered. She felt the immense power that radiated from his presence… her master, her maker.

For the first time, she truly feared Solomon Bell. Without another thought, she dropped back to her knees, kneeling before him. “Master Bell, please forgive me,” she said, averting her eyes to the ground.

“Look at me when you speak!” His voice stung like a cold slap to her face. The memory of their first encounter flickered through her mind as she lifted her eyes. She watched, trembling as Solomon bent down to retrieve his white cloak from the ground.

In another beat, he lifted Arianna to her feet by the hook of her elbow. She flinched at his touch, but he only dragged her further away from the scene. She struggled to follow his long strides, jogging to keep up.

As they strode through town, Arianna noticed the new snowfall. She looked up towards the sky, but she only saw gray as the icy flakes melted on her skin. Feeling like a peasant in the presence of a king, she studied the embroidery of the warrior’s crest at Solomon’s back. His robes glittered as they flowed behind him, the red satin lining sliding across his skin as he yanked his hood up to shield his hairless head from the snow.

“Put your hood up!” he snapped at her, not even bothering to look back. He continued to pull her along, never loosening his strong grip. She did as he commanded without question.

They passed the hundreds of identical sleeping quarters that housed all of the slaves. Their rugged appearance gave an eerie look in the shadowed light of the lanterns that lined the street, as if giant wooden cages stapled to the side of the mountain.

The dining hall loomed ahead, and she noticed one of the swinging doors left ajar swung back and forth in the wind. Arianna started to veer left towards the Dueling Arena before Solomon jerked her towards the right.

“This way,” he growled. Arianna changed course. In the dark, she couldn’t decipher the path he led her down.

She gasped as Solomon turned to face her, a fire blazing in his eyes. He slammed her into a stone wall of a building she did not know. Solomon’s strong arm strapped her down like a belt across her chest. She closed her eyes shut, wincing at the sudden contact. As her arms and body glued against the wall, she couldn’t help but think the worst.
Please don’t kill me.

When she opened her eyes, she saw he also pinned himself up against the wall. He lifted a long index finger to his mouth, and his eyes bore into hers, daring her to speak or move. She had never been so unable to do so in her life.

Paralyzed by fear of her master’s wrath at her betrayal, she didn’t even realize the chattering of voices ahead until quite some time had passed. The voices grew louder, and she felt her panic swell. A man running down the path stopped right in front of their hiding place, his companions not far behind.

While the roof of the building sheltered her and Solomon in the shadows, nothing tangible separated them from the man. She prayed the darkness was enough, but she trusted it little. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of the night being her only safety blanket, hoping Solomon couldn’t feel her fear.

“Where have you been?” cried a deep voice as another regulator met the man in the middle. “Where the Hell are Akias and Das? Why aren’t they with you? We need that bloody roster. There’s been a slave out of bed. The general is handling this one!” he said, his face sullen. He ran a hand through his thick hair.

“They… they’re dead,” the other regulator said, trying to catch his breath. Arianna studied his round body and wrinkled skin. The jog had winded the old man, and he hunched over, gasping for air as the other stood wordless.

Solomon and Arianna exchanged only a glance before returning their attention to the two cloaked men.

“Dead?” he mouthed as Arianna deciphered his wordless lips. The other regulator only nodded with the same shocked look spread over his face as he awaited a reply. “What do you mean
dead
?” the man said in a shaky voice. His black hair fell all around his thin face, and he stood much taller than the other.

“I mean dead, Mundar. It was a bloodbath,” he said, trailing off into thought.

The chatter of more voices joined the ranks as a herd of laughing men came to a halt where Mundar and the messenger stood. Arianna smelled the thick scent of whisky lingering in the air about the drunken group. She guessed they came from the tavern nearby the elder’s quarters. Her nose wrinkled at the stench.

“What are you girls moping about?” said a belligerent man. He slapped Mundar on the back. He buckled under the weight but came back with a fierce uppercut to the man’s jaw. The large man fell like an axed tree to the ground. Rubbing his chin, he tried to wobble back to his feet. 

“Hey, calm yourself, Mundar! What’s eating you anyhow?” said another regulator.

Arianna’s heart pained as a man with rubicund hair and freckles stepped into view. He reminded her of Noah.
And Liam… no.
She shook her mind back to the present before it had time to wander off track. This was neither the time nor place. She watched the man chuckle as he lifted the fallen tree to his feet.

Mundar pulled the redhead to his face by the collar of his silky robes. The already pale man blanched as Mundar’s lips moved in an unintelligible whisper near his ears. The man scratched the stubble at his chin, contemplating Mundar’s words for only a moment.

“Alright men, there’s been a… situation. Das Cupper and Akias Gruso have been found dead near the barracks,” he said, his casual character now asserting one of authority.

As Arianna’s eyes adjusted to the night, she saw red satin on his collar and cape. He stood out from the rest, and she recognized him now as the general’s right-hand man, Sir Dean Westing.

She studied him with curiosity.
He looks too young to be a leader.
His locks swooped at his bangs, and he grew the same ginger stubble on his goatee. His olive green eyes burned with authority as he relayed orders.

The men changed like chameleons on the defense, laughter stopping dead as Sir Westing spoke. Even the drunk man who seemed on the brink of losing his stomach lost the wobble in his step. 

“Listen up men! You’re now on duty, so sober up. Chapin brothers, I want you to go with Mundar to check out the bodies. Wait for your next orders there. Snoop around a bit. If you find anything interesting, hold on to it,” said Sir Westing. He paced before the group with his arms behind his back.

Two men stepped out from the crowd, the Chapin brothers. Something about them seemed resourceful. Dark brown hair fell in waves around their faces, and their tan skin matched their eyes. Arianna found it impossible to tell one apart from the other. Moving as one, they gave a slight bow and started into a run behind Mundar, kicking up snow as they went.

“The rest of you, round up the crew and meet back here in ten minutes. R.J, you’ll be coming with me. You’ll need to inform General Ivo of everything you saw. Let’s go!” said Sir Westing.

As soon as the words left his mouth, all of the men scattered in different directions, leaving only Sir Westing and R.J in Solomon’s and Arianna’s view.

Sir Westing looked alert, and for a moment his gaze paused in their direction. Arianna felt her chest contract as she chewed at her lip. If she could see him, could he see her? She prayed for better luck than that. As soon as the fear had built up in her mind, the two men turned and ran down the street, out of sight.

Solomon released his hold on Arianna, and she staggered forward at the sudden freedom. It felt like she’d never once breathed as the air flowed back into her shriveled lungs. She stole a glance at Solomon, but his mood seemed to only worsen. He stood there for a second or two before he regained his hold on Arianna’s elbow. They continued down the same path as before, the same path the two men just ran away down.

Given all her near-death experiences these last two months, Arianna began to ponder the worst.
Is it just in my cards to die young?
Solomon released his grip and slowed, breaking her reverie.

They came across a row of neat looking homes quite large and lavish in comparison to most of the other buildings she had ever seen. She remembered the homes from long ago as the Supremes’ Way of Warrior’s District. She knew Solomon lived somewhere nearby, so she assumed they were headed for his quarters.

He put his hand out behind his back in a gesture to follow as he tiptoed in-between the houses. Dirt roads turned to brick, and the barren grounds turned beautiful in the fallen snow. Arianna gaped at the homes which appeared in the same garish style as the ones in Lessa’s district.

Unlike that of the Healer’s District, square windows, tinted a soft blue with white borders, stuck to the walls. The roofs formed intricate zigzags, and grand stone chimneys jutted out from the tops. A cylinder, wood door bolted at the front, and the stone of the buildings shone silver in the light.

As Arianna tip-toed behind Solomon, they danced around the spots of lantern lights, playing in the shadows. He led her around the back of the long road of houses, producing a silver key from his robes. Wooden steps connected to a small patio on each house. Solomon climbed the nearest set, motioning for her to stay hidden.

Arianna stood near the stairs when she heard some footsteps quicken around the corner, the snow crunching underfoot. She moved to shield herself under the small space between the stairs and the ground.

“Solomon, there you are!” Arianna heard Solomon grumble as a man called his name.

She peeked through the cracks and saw Sir Westing himself at the foot of the stairs. He glanced down, and Arianna froze. Could he see her? He didn’t seem to notice as Solomon vied for his attention.

“Dean, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said with a placating expression.

“We’ve been searching everywhere for you. Where have you been? My men were at your door only minutes ago,” he said, sharply.

“Oh, I do apologize. I’m a heavy sleeper, but I was roused by all of the commotion outside. What’s happened?” he replied in such a casual demeanor that Arianna almost believed his lie.

It seemed to satiate Sir Westing’s suspicions, but the authority still laced thick in his voice when he replied to Solomon.

“I see. Well, you must come with me now. General Ivo requires your assistance. There’s been a murder… Das and Akias.”

“You don’t say?” Solomon straightened his back. “I’d be happy to help. Who could’ve done such a thing?”

“A young slave was caught near the Dining Hall shortly after we found them dead. She’s being interrogated as we speak.” 

Solomon gaped at the news but recovered his nonchalance in record timing.

“You mean to tell me a
slave
murdered Das and Akias? That’s absurd! Das was one of the best regulators in the district.”

“If you have any other culprits,
Solomon
, best tell me now,” said Sir Westing, his voice chilling. Pink lips pressed into a hard line as he waited for a response.