Imperial Assassin (6 page)

‘Your turn will come, Femke,’ he whispered softly. ‘Your turn will come.’

‘All done,’ Reynik said wearily.

‘Show me,’ the File Second ordered.

It was over. The last trench was dug. Tomorrow he would return to the relative normality of a training routine without all the extra evening duties. The relief at that thought brought a warming
feeling to his stomach. Reynik jumped down into the trench, his knees threatening to buckle at the shock of the impact. A moment later and he had demonstrated the dimensions of his hole to the
satisfaction of the supervising File Second.

‘Very well. Stack your shovel with the rest, then go and get cleaned up. I don’t want to see you in the restrictions party again, Legionnaire.’

‘Thank you, File Second. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.’

Reynik climbed out of the freshly dug toilet trench and walked over to the pile of tools by the equipment tent. He placed his long-handled shovel with the rest and sighed with relief as he
gently rubbed his blistered hands together. ‘If I never dig a hole again, it will be too soon,’ he decided.

It was as he turned to leave that he spotted the lone figure walking between the tents not far away. Despite an overwhelming wave of tiredness, something about the silhouette instantly
registered in his mind as being wrong. A shiver shot down his spine and he knew he could not ignore his premonition that whoever the figure was, he was up to no good.

‘Walk away. Don’t get involved. It’s nothing to do with you.’ The thoughts tumbled through his mind. ‘If you’re wrong, there could be consequences. You might
end up back on restrictions again.’

But it was not that easy. The feeling would not go away and Reynik found his eyes returning to the figure now rapidly fading into the shadows of the dusky camp. The man was dressed in uniform,
but Reynik could not see his Legion insignia at this distance. It would have been hard in full daylight at this range, but in the poor light of dusk it was impossible to make out. That walk; the
way the man stepped. It was familiar.

‘That’s it!’ Reynik breathed. ‘He’s not marching like a Legionnaire. No one from the General’s Legion marches like that. He’s making an effort, but it
doesn’t look natural. He’s no Legionnaire. He walks more like . . . Shalidar! No! It couldn’t be!’

The shocking thought that he might be looking at his sworn enemy galvanised Reynik into action. Any concerns about potential repercussions were cast aside. If that was Shalidar walking bold as
brass through the camp, then Reynik wanted to ensure the assassin did not escape. His hand went automatically to his hip, seeking the comfort of his sword hilt. He cursed softly. His sword was in
his tent, which was in the opposite direction from where the figure was disappearing. There was no time to go and fetch it. He didn’t even have his knife with him, as it kept getting in the
way when he was digging. Should he follow without a weapon? Should he follow at all?

His curiosity said yes. Also, his instinct told him he might not get another chance. It was now or never. With a quick glance back at the File Second to see if he was watching, Reynik picked up
his long-handled shovel again and set out after the retreating shadowy figure. The shovel was unwieldy, but it could be used as a weapon at a push. Adrenalin began to flow as he dashed silently
between the nearest rows of tents in an effort to close down his distance from the figure.

‘Be careful,’ Reynik told himself silently. ‘Shalidar is bound to be on his guard for signs of pursuit.’

The dim, dusky light made it easy for him to flit from shadow to shadow as he raced to catch up, but Reynik knew that if Shalidar detected him, he could easily find he had switched from hunter
to hunted without warning. Darkness would fall quickly now. This would make tracking the killer both more difficult and more treacherous. In order to keep the assassin in sight, Reynik would be
forced to follow him more closely, thereby increasing the danger of discovery. There was no wisdom in this, he concluded, but his resolve to follow did not waver.

‘What brought you back to Shandrim, Shalidar?’ he wondered. ‘With half the bounty hunters in Shandar salivating over the reward the Emperor has placed on your head, why would
you choose to return? It’s got to be something important.’ Even more intriguing was the question of what he was doing in the heart of the campsite of the Emperor’s own elite
Legion. Did Shalidar have a friend within the Legion? It would not surprise Reynik if this were the case. Assassins and spies all seemed to have friends in unlikely places.

He was catching up fast. The killer was apparently in no hurry to go anywhere, but he was moving steadily between the tents towards the edge of the city. If Shalidar had a friend in the Legion,
then he had already paid him a visit.

It was an abrupt rumpus erupting behind Reynik that fitted the main piece into the jigsaw. The assassin wasn’t here on a social visit. He was here on business. By the sound of the confused
shouting behind them, Reynik guessed Shalidar had already concluded that business and was now coolly walking away, as if nothing had happened. Who had been the victim? It was impossible to tell
from the noise.

‘Well, it isn’t over until you disappear, Shalidar,’ Reynik said under his breath. ‘And you’re not going to disappear so easily today.’

The assassin accelerated his pace slightly. He was still showing no signs of undue haste, and certainly not enough to draw attention to his movements. Reynik felt that his stealthy movements
were more likely to draw attention than the bold, striding pace of the assassin. It was annoying, but necessary. He could not afford for the assassin to notice that he was being followed. If he was
spotted, Reynik was as good as dead. It would not take much for the assassin to drop out of sight around a corner and set an ambush for his pursuer. With the element of surprise, even a half
competent assassin could kill anyone he chose with ease. For an expert assassin like Shalidar, it would be as simple as drawing breath.

‘Looks like you’re heading for the guard post on the main South West Avenue. Now why would you want to be seen there, Shalidar? Do you think you’re going to stroll out of the
camp with no one the wiser?’ Reynik was amazed at the man’s audacity. Surely one of the guards would notice he was not a Legionnaire.

Having worked out where the assassin was going, Reynik turned and ran silently between the lines of tents at ninety degrees from the direction of his destination. Once he was far enough offset
from Shalidar’s route to avoid detection, he turned and paralleled the assassin’s track. It didn’t take long to overtake him. By the time Shalidar reached the guard post at the
edge of tent city, Reynik was in position, concealed nearby to watch what happened.

The assassin stopped and began talking in a low, urgent voice to the guards. His body language conveyed his message beautifully. Reynik was not close enough to hear what he was saying, but he
did not need to be. He got the message loud and clear. Something bad had happened in the centre of the camp and the guards were to increase their alertness.

‘Very clever,’ Reynik conceded silently. ‘As the bearer of the news, you put yourself above suspicion. Decision time. If I let him go into the city I will most likely lose him,
or be discovered. If I call out, others might die.’

It was a difficult choice, but Reynik could not in conscience let the assassin go. He drew a deep breath and then launched into a sprint from his hiding place.

‘Stop that man!’ he yelled. ‘He’s an assassin. Stop him!’

The guards looked around in surprise, but if the assassin was surprised, he showed none of it. The momentary confusion of the guards was enough to give him the advantage he needed. Before Reynik
had covered half the distance to the guard post, two guards were down and the other two had backed away in shock, giving the assassin the space to make his break.

He ran. Reynik ran after him, yelling for the remaining guards to follow as he went past. They didn’t move. Seconds later a glance over his shoulder revealed them to be dithering;
paralysed with indecision. He would receive no help from them, he realised. It was one on one. In his dreams, Reynik had imagined this meeting, though this was not quite as he had envisioned it. In
his mind, he had thought to meet Shalidar face to face with a sword in his hand to duel with him to the death. Not surprisingly, he had never pictured himself dog-tired, chasing the assassin with a
shovel as his only weapon!

Shalidar was fleet of foot, and it was taking every ounce of Reynik’s flagging strength for him to keep his quarry in sight. The shovel was hardly an easy implement to run with. Its length
alone made it awkward to carry, but the imbalance of weight due to the metal head made it worse. Reynik tried swapping positions as he ran, but he could not find a way of holding it that allowed
him to run freely. Within a couple of minutes, he realised that the assassin was getting away from him.

The streets were largely empty. The road they were running along was one of the major routes into the heart of the city, but it was late and the merchants had stopped trading more than an hour
before. Most people were at home preparing their evening meal. There were a few folk abroad, mainly men in small groups on their way to the local taverns for a drink. Those that were abroad
observed the chase with interest, some pointing and laughing at the sight of a filthy soldier carrying a spade chasing another who sported a sword and dagger at his side. Not one of them moved to
interfere in any way. If he could, Reynik would have solicited help from them, but he did not have the breath left to shout. It was all he could do to keep running.

The aroma in the streets was pungent. An evil brew of rotting waste in the gutters mixed with the open sewerage channels. It was little wonder that the peasants in the poor quarters had a short
life expectancy, Reynik thought as he pounded through the filth. Even panting hard as he was through his mouth, it was impossible to ignore the stench totally. It clung to the back of his throat
like treacle. However, despite the choking odour he retained his focus, never allowing his attention to shift from the chase.

Shalidar turned left off the main avenue into a side street. He had a good sixty pace lead now. Blundering forward, Reynik ran straight at the corner. It was only in the last few paces that he
realised his mistake and swung wide to avoid being too close to the blind spot as he rounded the building. It was well that he did, for his quarry was waiting for him.

Instinct and a slice of good fortune saved Reynik from being butchered in the opening exchange. The assassin leaped, swinging his sword down at him in a deadly overhead stroke. Even as the blade
whistled at him, the young Legionnaire twisted and raised the shovel to block it. The blade bit deep into the handle of the shovel about an inch below the metal head and jammed in the wood. The
shock of the impact drove the handle down and in towards Reynik’s body, but the resistance that he offered, together with the pivoting effect of the blade sticking in the wood some distance
from his hands, carried the tip of the sword clear of his body.

Reynik was quick to respond to the situation. Even as the shovel tip touched the ground he shifted his weight and reversed the pivotal movement of the handle, wrenching the assassin’s
sword arm back up and over in an arc. The handle of the sword was twisted from his fingers, but Reynik did not stop the momentum of the shovel and he smashed it down onto the cobblestone street.
The deep cut in the handle had weakened it such that the handle splintered on impact, sending the sword and the head of the shovel spinning across the road.

For a moment, Reynik and his assailant faced one another. As he looked into the assassin’s eyes, Reynik realised to his astonishment that it was not Shalidar staring back at him, but a
complete stranger. For a split second the two paused, each as surprised as the other. How circumstances had changed in those few action-packed heartbeats! Reynik’s attacker had gone from
having the advantages of both surprise and superior weapons to being unarmed and facing a soldier armed with what now looked like something between a staff and a spear.

Shalidar he was not, but if Reynik had been a gambler, he would have put money on the man being a paid killer.

‘You . . . are . . . under . . . arrest . . .’ Reynik started, panting out the words and lifting the lethal-looking wooden handle threateningly.

The man growled. There was no other description that adequately conveyed the sound that issued from his mouth. It was a low-pitched rumble of anger and frustration that erupted from the
man’s throat like the ominous grumble of a big cat. Then he took advantage of Reynik’s surprise and fatigue by spinning and running away in one swift movement.

Reynik hesitated to follow. He was tired. The fire of vengeance that had burned in his belly had been doused by the discovery that he was not chasing his sworn enemy. He was in no fit state to
follow further. The man still had a soldier’s knife, which if wielded competently could be every bit as deadly as a sword. All Reynik was left with was the remains of the shovel – now
more of a pole.