Chapter 5

Lucas stands at the bottom of a pool of confusion and disbelief. He squints at the bodies, unable to process what lies before him. All logic tells him that only one of the bodies can truly be this Dalton fellow. Wren leans back on her heels, also wearing Lucas’s expression of dumbfoundedness.

“Did he have a brother?” The wheels finally begin turning in his head, an attempt to make sense of the situation. He ignores the rarity of this occasion, asking someone else - a dog of the Court no less - for information he doesn’t have.

Wren sighs and rubs her eyes. “No siblings. At least, none on record. And I’ve seen all of our agents. None of them resemble Dalton.” She stands and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Lucas steps forward into the dappled sunlight and crouches towards the two bodies. After a moment of thought, letting the last of his bewilderment subside, he grabs the top body and shifts it off so that it lies flat on its own. Both are now in clear view, as well as two daggers which were previously beneath the top body. Blood stains both blades and they bear the kingdom’s insignia on the bottom of each handle.

“These must have been—” The rest of his thought is overshadowed by the sudden realization borne of his new perspective on the scene. With both bodies lying side by side, a subtle difference in the hue of the skin becomes more noticeable. “This one’s fake.”

There is a moment of silence before Lucas’s words cause Wren to lean over him and see for herself. The body on the left, previously beneath the one on the right, has somewhat normal skin complexion. The body on the right has clearly lost its warmth and its skin has grayed.

“You mean the difference in color?”

“Yes.” His gaze remains fixed on the body to his left. “Without a beating heart pumping blood through the body, the skin loses its normal color and becomes pale. The body on the right has clearly been dead for more than thirty minutes. But the one on the left looks like it could get up and walk out of here.”

“Is his heart still beating?”

Lucas places two fingers beneath the man’s jaw in an attempt to detect a pulse. After a few seconds, he removes them. “Nothing. Which leads me to believe that its heart was never beating to begin with.” He reaches to pick up one of the daggers between the bodies and examines it in the sunlight, running his finger along the blood stained blade. By its look and feel, he is convinced of its authenticity. He does the same with the other dagger and finds its stains lacking thickness. The same observation on the wounds of the left body lead to the same conclusion. “The blood splatters on the body and this dagger are also fake. I can’t say it’s dyed water, but it clearly isn’t blood.”

“But why create a fake body that looks like Dalton? When did he even have the time to do it? It looks too real.” She takes the brass crest from the belt of the left body. “And this certainly isn’t fake. Where did he get this?”

“I have the same questions, but we won’t get answers until we catch up with the guy.” He places the dagger with the fake blood into his pocket, blade down with the handle sticking out. “Let’s get moving.”

Lucas moves to exit the shed as Wren takes the second brass crest. Both find a place in her pocket and she follows Lucas out of the ruins.

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Wren takes her seat on the cycle as Lucas stores the dagger in his satchel. Now that they are farther from the bodies in the ruins, he cannot help but notice the scent of blood coming from the stain on the blade. While his sense of touch is not fooled by the attempt at imitating the real thing, his sense of smell fails to detect this. He knows little about the making of fake blood but finds it hard to believe that its unique scent could be mimicked so accurately.

“Why did you take that dagger?” Wren asks, looking up for a moment from scribbling words on a page of parchment paper with a small quill in her hand and a cup of ink on her knee. The black messenger raven stands expectantly on her shoulder, knowing instinctively that the message being written is meant for some distant recipient.

“It’s the one with the fake blood, presumably made by Homer. To me, it’s also a clue to this mystery. I’m hoping to find someone who can tell us how the substance was made.” Lucas mounts the bicycle and looks back at Wren over his shoulder. “We’re going to Drepano, the nearest inhabited town; not too far. Are you able to write as we go?”

“Not legibly. I’ll wait until we get there.” She waves the parchment to dry the ink and rolls up the sheet for storage. The rest of her supplies are quickly packed.

[Wren should finish writing the letter before they leave for Drepano. The rest of the scene can change so that they don’t start riding until after Lucas suggests writing to Thomas. Use a scene break to skip the travel between Agios and Drepano.]

With a push off of the pavement, Lucas starts down the road with vigor in his pedaling so as to build speed. His eyes are focused ahead, accented with determination. Wren turns to look back at the ruins as they shrink in the distance.

“How do you know Homer stopped at Drepano?” Wren asks once they’re well on their way.

“It’s the only inhabited town for nearly twenty kilometers and riding a horse can be painful with his leg injury. He probably went looking for a medical specialist nearby for treatment. His choices were hoping Drepano had one or turning back in the direction of the capital.” Lucas takes a moment to add more power to his pedaling and increase their speed. After a few breaths, he continues. “I don’t have to tell you why his second choice was probably a no-go.”

“How do you know he didn’t move deeper into the ruins and found some place to hide?”

“I don’t know that. You ask a lot of ‘how-do-you-know’ questions.” He grumbles under his breath and lets out a sigh. “Look, he has to go somewhere. Even if he’s still in Agios, this is the only flat road east. He can’t leave the country without passing us somewhere along the way.”

Wren remains silent for a moment waiting for Lucas to think the situation through to all of its possible conclusions. She respects his experience in this area. After all, the job of a huntsman requires a wit sharpened by experience. But at the same time, she isn’t entirely oblivious to the need to tie up loose ends like these.

Reluctantly, Lucas does think about Wren’s suggestion. Homer might catch a boat that happens to pass by, however unlikely, and start heading west instead of east. He may be waiting for the pain in his leg to dull before he swims across the gulf and escapes into the territory of Agrinio. Lucas’s contemplation stops there. After a sigh, he follows up his last statement.

“If it bothers you that much, write to Walker telling him to search the ruins on horseback.” His voice is lined with annoyance, but Wren picks up a hint of apologetic concession towards the end. “We can talk about the details when we’re finished at Drepano.”

As if on cue, the pair finish rounding the bend of the road and the village of Drepano reveals itself. It sits at the foot of a hill, which looms in the backdrop. In the foreground is a field of olive trees bearing white blossoms. But the inviting setting ends there. The town appears lifeless, with no citizens in sight and baskets of fruit left beside houses. Silence hangs over the area.

“Where’s everyone gone?” Lucas whispers to himself as he sits up and slows the bicycle beneath him. When it comes to a stop, this question is answered. He and Wren look down the main road of the town to see a myriad of people gathered outside one house, all looking into the windows and overflowing out through the door. The people towards the back shuffle about as though trying to get a view. Their body language sets a mood in contrast to the blooming olive trees. With only a view from behind, Lucas can tell that most of the civilians have their hands over their mouths in dire worry.