Penitent-Chapter 26: Murder

Michael’s recovery ability was working overtime as he made his way toward the camp, and by the time he’d reached it, everything seemed to be resolved. He saw a number of men in red still groaning on the ground, with far fewer in black scattered among them. Lance was barking orders to people that could be heard from a ways off and Davi and Pyotr were standing with Marcus, who had a rough looking bruise over his eye, and chatting.

Lance saw him before the others did, and his eyes widened as he saw the red bundle in his hands.

“How many is that?” he asked, the attention of a few others moving to Michael.

“Seven,” he said, reaching the interior and sitting on a fallen log to catch his breath. “Not bad for an old man, eh?”

“Not bad for a young man either,” said Lance, nodding before he barked out a few more orders to the others.

Michael couldn’t help, but notice that Lance was holding an even bigger bundle than Michael’s own under his arm. Clearly his Titles and Deeds had granted him serious benefits, or it was valor he’d stolen from his men, though so far he didn’t seem to be the type.

Davi, Pyotr, and Marcus approached him.

“Wow,” said Pyotr pointing at the bundle. “You know, it’s not like we would’ve actually died if you’d let them pass you.”

“Obviously not, in that case I would just kept running and used Ollie as a human shield.”

They shared a laugh.

“Where is Ollie, by the way?”

“He took a rough blow to the leg from a staff, something shattered. He was carried off by a moderator,” said Pyotr.

“Damn,” said Michael before looking up at Marcus. He looked dirty, and had his own bundle of multicolored rags tucked into his belt.“You okay?”

He nodded. “I’ve been back since this morning, must’ve just missed ya.”

“Want to tell us what you were doing?” asked Davi, his cop voice bleeding out. "We've been covering for you with Lance."

“No.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. The fight had exhausted him, but in some ways he found Marcus’s answer more tiring. On top of that, it was obvious what he was doing, would it be so hard for him to just talk to them?

“Man, fuck you,” he said shaking his head.

“What?” asked Marcus.

“I said, fuck you,” said Michael calmly. He considered Marcus a friend, but Michael was too tired to keep his thoughts to himself at that moment. “I’m going to my tent. If you need me I’ll be there, not off fucking around somewhere. Doing some shit that could get everyone else in trouble or hurt.” He didn’t wait for an answer and instead just crawled into his tent and laid out on his bedroll. It hadn’t taken any damage, though a few other tents in a section with a broken fence had. He climbed inside and pulled a ration from his pack. He dipped a few pieces of hard tack and forced it down. It was early, and for a moment he thought he’d just lay there in silence to think and recuperate, but like any old man planning to just rest his eyes, he was soon snoring and dead to the world.

…

Michael was startled awake in the middle of the night. He could hear yelling and commotion just outside of his tent. He sat up slowly and grabbed his sword, peeking slowly out of the tent flap in case they were being attacked. He quickly realized that wasn’t the case.

He saw a number of white clad soldiers, Kline, Meera, Crim, and a few other officers he didn’t recognize. They were all talking to Marcus who was standing in the midst of them, unarmed and holding his neck as if his brand had been activated. Pyotr and Davi were standing near him.

Michael pushed the rest of the way out of the tent, leaving his sword behind as he approached the commotion.

“-found dead in the northwestern part of the forest. He’d been dead for nearly a day, with the murder suspected to have taken place last night,” said one of the officers he didn’t recognize. “The last person to see him was another moderator that evening,” he pointed at Marcus. “You, lifetaker, were seen in an altercation with him recently. On top of that there have been stories all over the forest of a black soldier bringing down others alone all across the woods.”

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Marcus, who was flanked by two guards who had him by either arm, stayed silent.

“Do you have anything to say?” asked the man.

“I didn’t do it,” said Marcus.

The man sighed. “We already spoke with Lance who confirmed you and the other Penitents only recently returned to camp recently. Would you care to elaborate on where you’ve been?”

“Taking flags.”

He shook his head and looked at Meera. “Do it.”

She nodded, she was wearing a much sterner expression than usual as she stepped toward Marcus. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them they were shining silver. She stared at him, and through him, the focus of her gaze seeming almost like a tangible force cutting through the air between herself and him.

Marcus’s steady expression wavered for the first time, but he stayed still.

Meera closed her eyes again and opened them. Wavering a bit on her feet. Kline came very close to reaching out to steady her, but restrained himself.

She took a deep breath. “He didn’t do it. There are…deaths and other crimes embedded in his soul, but the only recent death written on his soul is the obvious one.”

“There are ways around such detection,” said the officer looking at Marcus with contempt.

“How would he know them, Locke? He likely didn’t even know a diviner with Meera’s skill could read the marks of death on his soul to begin with,” said Kline. “It’s a waste of time to focus on him when there are other potential suspects.”

“Makes more sense to execute him and be done with it. He's the obvious culprit.”

“He’s a dragoon. A good one. He has real value.”

Locke scowled, and shook his head. “None of you are to mention this death to anyone. General Kreg doesn’t want the exercise interrupted for anything.”

“And what does General Achen, the actual administrator of the Academy, think of it?” asked Kline.

The officer stared at him. “You’re all dismissed.”

Slowly, the white clothed moderators and soldiers all dispersed. Michael moved over to Meera who seemed to be struggling to walk.

“Are you alright?” he asked, helping to steady her.

She shook her head. “Not particularly.”

“What was that you did?”

“I told you I had abilities other than healing?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I can see what evils are carved onto a person’s soul, or what kindnesses are, though in my line of work the latter doesn’t come up very often.”

Michael focused and brought a healing hand to hers.

She took a breath. “Thank you. That helped a bit, but more with my stiff back from how I slept rather than what I just did.”

“Is that a common ability?”

She shook her head. “It’s about as rare as healing, perhaps a bit rarer. In peacetime it would be very valued, but given we’re at war it’s hard not to find people with death on their souls among us. I’d hoped not to have to use it here.”

She frowned. “You should be wary of your friend. I don’t believe he murdered anyone here, but his soul is marred and marked.”

“I’ll…keep that in mind.”

She nodded. “Get some rest yourself, I’ll see you for lessons once the exercise is over, and I know Dugan will need your help accounting for everything used in the exercise.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Michael walked back over to where Davi, Pyotr, and Marcus were standing and talking.

“What were you doing out there?” he asked, interrupting their conversation.

Marcus looked at him, narrowing his eyes. “I didn't kill him.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked what you were doing?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

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“It does. We all took a risk covering for you, and focusing on the game. You may not have killed him, but I believe you would have if you'd had the chance. Now you won't even tell us what you were doing? I didn't think you were the kind of guy to let a woman like Crim turn you into more of a dickhead.”

“Fuck you,” said Marcus stepping toward him.

“Hey now. Let’s calm down a bit,” said Pyotr standing and moving toward them.

“You don’t trust us, that’s clear, but I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. We all have. Maybe that was dumb, but not nearly as dumb as thinking a woman who considers you a murderer is going to sleep with an older man in the body of a teenager who she saw in the body of a toddler only a few months ago.”

Marcus’s fist flew toward Michael, but hit Pyotr instead who was moving to get between them.

Everything went red, and as Pyotr fell Michael tackled Marcus to the ground. He slammed his fist into his face full force. Before he could throw a second punch, Marcus moved up his hips, caught his hand, and rolled him to put himself on top. Michael knew that he’d been holding back in hand to hand, so that didn’t surprise him. He let his arm pop out of its socket to swivel and punch Marcus in the face. He healed the arm as he turned around, and kneed Marcus in the ribs. After that it was a blur, even more of one then his fight on the bridge. Just them both rolling around, beating the hell out of each other. It was stupid, Michael knew it was stupid, but he couldn't stop swinging.

Davi and Pyotr tried to pull them apart, but couldn’t. Soon there were dozens of recruits coming to see what was going on. After that, a moderator showed up, and between him and a half dozen others they were pulled apart.

“Alright. Stop!” yelled the moderator as they continued to try and tear toward one another. “That’s it, you’re both out of the games. I’m sending you each to a tomb. Two weeks. Let's see if that cools you off.”

Soon more moderators appeared, and they were dragged toward the edge of the woods back to the academy. He found himself unable to calm down and continued to struggle even as they got into the academy gates and back toward the gallows. Michael’s clothes were stripped and he was thrown nearly naked into one of the buried stone structures, his back slamming against the cold hard floor.