Chapter one.
Dereniik found Zegreeb leaning over a cadaver, a gleaming crescent blade in hand.
“Thank you for heading my summons, Deputized Operative Commander Dereniik.” The giant man straightened as he offered a brief wane smile and the customary hand signal, somewhat modified by the weapon he held.
“I live to serve my Lord; how can I be of assistance?” Dereniik intoned the appropriate response keeping his features neutral.
What was Zegreeb doing in the morgue hovering over a body? Where was Senior Commander Gujuus?
“I apologize for the need to summon you, but the corpse is already in the early stages of decomposition and by the time the necessary script work meandered its way through the upper echelons of our relative departments, three or four days could pass. I want a second opinion before putrefaction makes an unpleasant job intolerable.” Zegreeb’s deep voice echoed off the high vaulted ceiling returning as a low mumble.
Dereniik hesitated, he did not know the man well, they had met once, late last month. Zegreeb was the friend of a mutual acquaintance and had been asked to assist as a Healer during the conclusion of an arduous quest. Dereniik glanced around the spacious room.
“Senior Commander Gujuus has retired,” Zegreeb interpreted Dereniik’s seeking glances. “I have replaced him as city coroner.”
Dereniik wasn’t sure if congratulations were in order, the Command structure of Healers not within his field of expertise. Not that it mattered. Missing the greater part of both limbs on the right side of his body offering the hand signal denoting congratulations was beyond his capabilities. If he had been sitting, a single-handed variation was acceptable but remaining upright without a tight grip on his left crutch was speculative.
Attired in a full light green starched apron, heavy duty boots and waxy gloves extending beyond his elbows Zegreeb gestured for Dereniik to approach. The customary cowl emblazoned with epaulets and insignias denoting rank, were absent. Understandable while conducting a postmortem, but leaving Dereniik with no insight on how to address the man. Was he a Sir, Lord, Senior, or Honourable Commander? The dark skin tone and broad facial features identified his ancestry as predominantly from the Wild Waters region, although he displayed none of the culturally significant blue tattoos or embedded gems. A region accent was also absent. Erring on the side of prudence Dereniik opted for a course of humility and respect.
“My Lord Commander Zegreeb, it will be a pleasure to render any assistance that I am able.”
Fatigue momentarily forgotten, curiosity piked, Dereniik shuffled forward. The crutches were new and the leather binding the one to his right arm stump chafed. The wooden ends, ludicrously smooth, were next to useless for maintaining any sort of grip on slick marble floors. Progress was accompanied by clicks. Dereniik found them irritating, he could only hope they didn’t annoy the giant wielding a knife.
It wasn't the first time Dereniik had been summoned to the Morgue. Suspicious deaths making up a decent proportion of the assignments he and his team had once been Commissioned to Investigate. But this was the first time he entered the stark, uncomfortable room without his friends’ support and camaraderie. Memories of better times, the sense of his own impending mortality, and the unnatural chilly atmosphere sent shivers up and down his spine.
Dereniik had seen enough dead bodies not to bulk at the desecrated remains, but not enough to have become callous, indifferent, or unaffected. Approaching the slab, an unmistakable stench of death and decay pervaded the still air. Zegreeb moved aside, a massive gut wound on the corpse was exposed.
Observing with pity the blanched inert figure before him. Dereniik found it difficult to tell what the man would have once looked like. Face bloated and bloodied, the eyes and soft tissue about lips and cheeks recently providing fodder for forest scavengers. Defensive wounds on his hands and arms evidence not all the damage had been inflicted after death. Tan skin under new beard growth indicated it was also a recent addition. The long-tapered fingers and hands, stained by clay pigments, were not calloused or weather worn from extended exposure to extreme environments.
Three ragged parallel gouges stretched from just under the ribs on the right side of the torso diagonally across his abdomen to the opposite hip. Internal organs were exposed in various shades of purple, black and crusted rusty brown. To a casual observer the gashes could have been the claw marks of any number of wild animals. Dereniik took his time, he couldn’t help the dead man, but his family and team would have questions that deserved, if possible, answers.
“My Lord, there appears to be a variation to the depth of each of these primary injuries. Have you taken any measurement?” Dereniik asked.
“Yes, the top and bottom one’s are deeper than the central incision.”
Zegreeb sheathed the knife, although Dereniik could see no indication of where he had been using the implement. Taking a clip board from a side table, parchment pages rustled as they turned. Selecting one, Zegreeb hesitated part way through the action of passing it. Dereniik was mildly impressed. A good half of the people he met treated him as an idiot incapable of rational thoughts or any physical abilities. The other half failed to comprehend or ignored his limitations. Zegreeb took a couple of swift, lengthy strides, grabbed a nearby stool, and with a fluid motion moved it to the side of the slab and gestured for Dereniik to sit. Leaning his crutches against the table freed Dereniik’s remaining hand to take to offered pages.
After examining the precise and detailed information Dereniik returned them to Zegreeb and went back to inspecting the wounds. Coming to a decision he straightened, melancholic with the implication of his deductions.
“My Lord Commander Zegreeb, I am sorry to inform you, but I am unfamiliar with any forest animal capable of producing this series of wounds.” A wave of nausea and the niggles of a panic attack threatened, but were effectively delt with.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Zegreeb contemplated the words. “What about a Welcoloon?”
“The Welcoloon does have three talons on their hind legs. A kick may produce a wound with some of these characteristics, but the middle claw would leave a deeper injury, not a shallower one, and the dew claw would be splayed to the side. Also Welcoloon’s do not leave pray with a single slash. Once bloodied I know of no circumstances that would convince the animal to not finish the attack. They are fiercely protective of the kill until it is all absorbed. Several other alpha predators have ripping or slashing claws, but I know of none that would leave this series of wounds. Did you notice the inconsistency with the small animal infestation?” Dereniik asked.
“I did, what do you make of it?”
Dereniik masked his surprise. Senior Commander Gujuus had never sought opinions. Considered admitting a lack of any knowledge tantamount to personal weakness. Although, Zegreeb was possibly only middle aged, five to ten rotations older than Dereniik, Gujuus had been in his early hundreds.
“My Lord, are you aware of the location where the cadaver was found?” Dereniik asked. He would have liked to examine the body before it had been moved.
“It was not far into the forest on a cleared path forages and gatherers use regularly.”
Okay. Dereniik was grateful he had not been called to examine the body where it had been found. The forest and he were not on amicable terms.
“My Lord, at this time of the rotation, current weather conditions taken into consideration, the slug like animals in the top slash would be three to four days old, having been laid at least the day previous. The ones in the middle slash are a couple of days old, and the bottom slash has eggs and grubs that would have emerged within the last few hand breadths. It is my opinion that is consistent with the different times that each injury would have been inflicted. I don't know any forest animal that would attack with a single non-lethal blow, on non-consecutive days. Although I would say the accumulative effect of the wounds were the cause of death.”
“I concur. A pitiable situation, he would have suffered immensely. I don’t know of any forest animal that would act this way either.” Zegreeb was thoughtful. “Do you have any other observations?”
Dereniik nodded. It wasn't intentional, but his next words came out haltingly. “This species of small animal, eats dead or decaying flesh, useful if you have sustained significant injuries and are forced to live in less than sterile conditions. He, or his captor may have been using them for that purpose, to keep the wounds clean.”
Zegreeb raised an eyebrow. “That's a very astute observation, even many Healers are oblivious to the medical advantages of this creature.”
Dereniik swallowed the lump of rising anxiety. He picked up the information rotations ago and made practical application after having to perform an unprofessional amputation on his own right foot. Reoccurring nightmares of the surrounding events still disturbed his sleep and uncontrolled moments of intense apprehension punctuated his days with unwelcome regularity.
To cover his unease Dereniik quickly continued. “His right ankle and both wrists show the bruising and ligature marks of being restrained. From the slight green coloration and thickness of the welts I would suggest grip-vine was used.”
“Could be natural, he wouldn't have been the first man caught by a grip-vine plant, there are plenty in the area.”
Was he being tested? Interesting. But rising to the challenge took Dereniik’s mind of discussing such an uncomfortable topic.
“I don't know of any variation of that species or any other predatory plant that would snare a victim with only three runners. Once immobilized multiple runners are used to smother prey and draw it into themselves. Are there other contusions like this that I have missed?”
Dereniik shivered again, he should have worn his thicker cowl, but the request to attend the morgue had been formally worded and on official parchment. He only possessed an older, lightweight Nisayaan Skin cowl, with his official epaulets and insignias. The extra bars denoting an elevation of rank after his last Commission had been added crooked. Dereniik suffered the ignominy without complained. No one, least of all himself, expected him to live long enough for it to matter.
One corner of Zegreeb’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “No, no other contusions.”
Dereniik grinned. There was a challenge to the words. ‘No other contusions’, but what had he missed? A scattering of small insect bites crosses the upper right arm and shoulder. An older healed scar decorated both sides of his left calf. The serrated edge indicating it had been acquired by a bivalve snapping animal. An old phase burn scar on his forearm and a jagged smaller scar across his thigh. At some stage in the past the man had led an adventurous life. Scraped knees, and the back of his heels were also bruised and bloodied. He had been roughly dragged. A Glowsting creature had left an infected perforation on his right forearm and a species of barbed, burrowing seeds were in the process of infesting the lower right hip. The swelling indicated they had been there for several days. It was of interest that there was no evidence the victim had done anything to try and remove them.
Nine radiating arms of a magenta fractal decorated his right shoulder. The size of an open palm its growth indicated the wearer to be of middle rotations. The glyph tattoo of man's first-born son’s name had been engulfed and was now impossible to read. The second-son’s moniker was only partially obscured under the delicate radiating arms of a smaller burnt orange fractal on his left shoulder. Geraalt, or perhaps Leraalt, both names were popular, particularly among people from Amaraanth. Although the man’s skin had probably been tan rather than the mid-brown the general population of the region. A deep blue fractal decorated the centre of his chest. The bright gem-like colours contrasted with lack-lustre skin. But bleeding out would do that to a body. His neck was obscured by lank, detritus strewn, red/brown matted hair. Yellow bruising peaked from beneath.
“My Lord, would it be possible for you to pull back some of the hair from around his neck please.” Dereniik asked.
Zegreeb selected tongs and complied, revealing a couple of small, circular puncture marks.
“My Lord, these puncture marks are a few days old but directly over the carotid arteries. Thats a bit specific for your average jungle dweller.”
The other half of Zegreeb’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I thought so as well. He has a couple of similar but newer marks puncturing the main arteries of the legs.”
“The femoral arteries?”
“Yes,” Zegreeb lifted the edge of the small cloth placed for modesty. “You have a knowledge of anatomy?”
Dereniik shrugged, “I read a lot, it’s mostly only theoretical. Puncture wounds of this size to the femoral arteries would result in massive blood loss, how did he survive? Unless: is that residue from the Great Boong tree?”
“I suspect so. A sample is in the capable hands of Honourable Commander Orator; his analysis will be available by this afternoon.”
Dereniik knew it would arrive with a suitably sarcastic comment but any information from the crusty old Healer who ran the apothecary would be accurate.
“What is your conclusion?” Zegreeb asked.
“The obvious conclusion is that he was murdered by persons unknown, and although I have met men sadistic enough to inflict this much suffering, they are an exception. I am hesitant to lay blame, there is a manuscript on Slithers in the library I wish to consult. I heard an unsubstantiated rumour once about a creature that may be responsible but wish to refresh my memory and confirm the facts.”
“Are you referring to Kostermans work?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I guess it's sensible to eliminate all possibilities.” Zegreeb gave his half smile again, but Dereniik thought he was disappointed.
Dereniik focused on the inert individuals’ remaining facial features, fixing them in mind. “My Lord, do you know who he was?”
“Not a clue. He was brought in without any identification. And both his sons’ names are partially obscured. How big is your workload? Would you accept another Commission?”
Dereniik felt his pulse quicken. Was he up to the task? The Directives Committee had not Recommissioned him since the tragedy at the beginning of the rotation. Disappointing, but with his disabilities and tenuous health, understandable. Lately he’d taken up a couple of small cases, assisting individuals with private investigations. It was a far cry from the days when, with his team, he had broken up drug cartels, stopped human trafficking, and political assassinations.
“My Lord, I have washed my hands in justice and live to serve.”
There were formalities of course. Protocols to follow. The response to a case involving the suspicious death of an unknown person would fall under two distinct Coalition Councils. His own Directives Council Committee would handle the ‘Investigation’, and the Indemnity Council would conduct any ‘Consequence Management’ necessary. The self-centred, process-obsessed members of his own department may even want a ‘Threat Assessment’ involving the Construction Committee before assigning personnel.
“Do you have an Honourable Commander you need to report to, or do you wish me to approach someone in my department to grant me the authority?”
Zegreeb gave another one of his half smiles, this one's almost genuine. “That won't be necessary, I'm of the Ninth Maal, free to choose my own Commission and have the authority to Commission you to assist me for this necessary business.”
Dereniik hid his surprise. The man was young to have reached that rank, he would have to have an impressive skill set, but if so, what was he doing working in the morgue? And what had he been going to do with the knife before Dereniik interrupted him?