Savage Fire (Tales from Wildhearth #2)

Chapter 24 - Longer Claws Than You Can Imagine

The encounter with the Senior Pack-Leader Senessara had set Cephia's formidable temper burning like the heart of a forge. In the aftermath her squad had given her a wide berth as she vented her frustration in the training areas. Supposedly durable combat dummies disintegrated into splinters under her fury. Three heavy, security-issue truncheons broke under the strain as she battered her way through a dozen different practice routines, trying to get all the murderous energy out of her system before crossing paths with her superiors again.

In her current state she worried what she might do.

Another dummy vanished in a blizzard of broken wood as she ripped the truncheon through it. Cephia let out a snort of anger, finding herself longing for a weapon with a little more teeth – and for something a bit sturdier to use it on.

Breathing heavily, she stalked back and forth as a pair of Conclave staffers in plain blue robes hurried to clear away the debris and set up new targets for her anger. With the red mist in her mind she didn't even notice the sudden blare of the howlwire set built into the wall. It bleated again and one of the attendants eventually scuttled over to answer it.

Splinters flew as Cephia attacked another dummy, smashing a deep divot out of the shoulder joint with a powerful, double-pawed swing. As the echo of impact receded, the attendant – a reedy-framed quillkin – cleared his throat nervously.

"I... err, ma'am?" he stuttered.

"What?" She rounded on him with an irritated snort.

"Apologies, ma'am, but I have guard Roave on the line. He says it's urgent."

Exhaling a sharp breath of annoyance, Cephia tossed the truncheon aside and stalked across the room, yanking the receiver out of the attendant's paw without a word. The quillkin scurried away out of reach as she raised it to her ear.

"Guard-Leader Cephia," she snapped.

"Roave here, boss."

"Go ahead."

"Tayge and I are on level thirteen, Beech Quarter. We're in the maintenance section below one of the Agri-Tech offices."

Cephia's anger began to fizzle as she listened to Roave's voice. He sounded frustrated, a tightness in his normally cocksure tone. He'd found something he didn't like at all. And what was he doing at the Agri-Tech offices? In her absence she had squad running internal patrols in pairs, and Roave ought to have been in a different part of the tower entirely.

"What is it?"

"One of the designates has been murdered."

She blinked. He said it so simply that she didn't quite gather the words in straight away.

"Murdered?" she managed after a second.

"'fraid so, boss. You'd better get down here. This one's... I think it's one you're gonna want to be in charge of, if you get what I'm sayin, ay?"

"Peace'n'Fire." Cephia's muscles snapped rigid at the implication and she nodded. "Call in the others and lock that maintenance area down. Nobody touches anything, you understand? I'm on my way."

Then she slammed the howl-net receiver back into place and bolted from the room.

*

It took her maybe ten minutes to don her armour and make her way to the Agri-Tech offices of the Conclave. Situated in one of the secondary towers that jutted out from the main complex, they filled half a dozen levels, a small government department devoted to working with Wildhearth's agricultural districts. Focusing on improving irrigation, greenhouse construction and trading produce with other cities, it wasn't exactly the sort of department that a designate would kill for.