Steel and Sorrow (3 page)

This was my last chance.

And somehow he blew it. He had snuck easily enough into the building, locating the kitchen soon after. The two targets shared a room adjoining the kitchen’s eastern wall. He had been inching toward a door when something struck him in the back of the head. A low cackle had followed as he hit the stone floor.

A hushed murmuring of voices caught his ear. Hinges squeaked and a small patch of light fell into the room.

“I told you its fine. I killed a rat. That’s all,” said a raspy voice.

“Well, then let me help you dispose of it,” said another, more gentle than the first.

“I think after all these years I know what to do with a dead rat. Now go to sleep. You’ll need your rest when I’m done,” said the first voice. Zorik noted the playful tone.

The door shut before the second voice could respond. The light remained in the room, growing stronger with the approach of shuffling footsteps.

A squat figure with long stringy hair appeared by his feet brandishing a cleaver in one hand and a candle in another. The glow of the flame danced across her face. When she smiled, a low cackle pushed itself out from the back of her throat. Zorik’s spine crawled.

She gestured with the cleaver to his crotch. “Scream and I start there.” The ugly grin grew wider. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re wondering how an old woman could possibly take you down, right?”

He nodded, eyes on her weapon.

“All you fools are overconfident. Like someone has to be a member of your guild to understand the nuances of sneaking up on someone and the thousands of ways to kill a person. You see me and think I’m an easy target. But I’ve done more wicked things than you could ever imagine and I take offense when someone tries to harm me or my man.”

“It’s not personal,” he whispered, feeling as helpless as a newborn babe.

The old woman chuckled. “Oh, it’s about to get real personal.”

* * *

Terk gestured at the two men flanking his left and right. Never before had the Assassin’s Guild assigned three men to take down one person, but considering the giant’s size, the master saw it fitting to send three of his best. Terk understood the reasoning once he saw Crusher up close.

Terk had been told the Ghal could sleep through anything, including his own snores, which had pushed the giant to an isolated part of the barracks, away from other soldiers.

He sounds like a wagon barreling down an uneven cobble road.

Overwhelmed by the strong smell of musk, the three men inched toward the bed. One moved to the Ghal’s feet, the other his head, and Terk took the middle. He breathed through his mouth trying to ignore the odor turning his stomach.

The other two cocked their heads confused. He felt it too. Something seemed off. Yet, the giant slept soundly, mouth catching flies while his snores rattled the room.

I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s faking it. And he’s not faking it.

He scanned the giant’s length and noticed how odd he slept, rigid as a board with arms at his sides and covers pulled up to his chin.

You’d think the man was dead if not for the echoing in my ears.

The assassin to Terk’s right waved a hand in a silent question. Terk blinked and then nodded.

We don’t have time to waste.

They raised their knives together, one meant for the throat, the other for the chest, and the last for the lower abdomen. Terk counted off with a slight bob of his head, feeling the watchful eyes of the others.

At the third nod all three blades plunged down. Knives clanked against metal and skidded to the sides, throwing each of the three figures off balance.

What the . . .

The snoring stopped and in a roar covers came off. A massive arm lashed out. The one motion sent the three assassins sprawling. Terk watched the Ghal climb out of bed.

One Above, he’s huge.

The man wore full plate, including a gorget around his neck.

Who sleeps in full armor?

The Ghal reached down and grabbed one of them with his bare hands. Bones popped as the giant closed his grip about the man’s throat.

Crusher threw the body at Terk as he pushed back to his feet. He heard a scream cut short by a sickening crunch and then the heavy plodding of footsteps.

The Ghal stood over him, eyes filled with hate, pronounced brow furrowed. He sneered and raised his boot above Terk’s head.

Three wasn’t enough.

* * *

Leo, the Shadow of Cadonia and Master of the Assassin’s Guild, worked his way down the long corridor with a silent proficiency that none could match. He wore thin black silk, wrapped tight about his body and head, so not even the rustle of fabric would make a sound in the drafty hallway. Stepping lightly on the dark marble floors, he had already slipped by a half dozen royal guards, passing within inches of them while alerting none.

Pathetic.

The palace guards, though well-trained, were below what he considered a worthy challenge. He could have killed them with ease.

Leo had ordered his men to take down the rest of the Hell Patrol, one assassin per target with the exception of the Ghal. He also sent four of his best to kill the queen. Normally, he would have taken the queen himself, but that wasn’t what the job called for.

Their employer had been adamant that only the Shadow of Cadonia could be trusted to take out the Hell Patrol’s leader, Kaz, since none could stand before him on the battlefield. Leo had laughed at his employer’s warning. “I will take him in the shadows. And in the shadows, I have no equal.”

His employer seemed satisfied with his response and smiled, breaking the lid on a large chest of gold. Half the payment for the job. He would receive the rest upon completion, when the troublesome mercenary group and the queen were no more.

And once this is done, I will be set for life. Perhaps I’ll move to Thurum and carve out a small kingdom for myself.

He edged ever closer, ducking in and out of the shadows cast from oil lamps positioned in wall sconces. A half-open door stood at the end of the corridor. Instinct caused him to freeze and he slid twin blades from oiled sheathes. Then he remembered the odd detail about his target. Informants had told him that the foreigner felt more comfortable with the door and windows open.

Something about being less confined. Barbaric is what it is. No matter. I won’t have to double-check the hinges before I enter.

The open window of the room brought cool air into the hallway, reminding Leo that winter still struggled mightily against the inevitable spring weather. He slipped into Kaz’s room, hugging the stone walls to avoid the fractures of light cast about the space. He waited.

He had not become the greatest assassin ever to live, a man whose very name struck fear like an apparition in the stories of old, by being careless. As his eyes continued to adjust he saw the details of the simple room—a desk and chair in one corner, a chest and dresser in the other. A long bed rested in the center and the contours of a great form lay under the covers.

Leo took a deep breath and held it as he made his way to the bed. Kaz slept with the covers tight about him and his back turned to the door.

Leo had never been one to stab a man in the back. He obtained too much enjoyment from the shock in a target’s eyes as he plunged his knife into their chest, that brief moment of clarity when they realized their end had come.

He yanked away the covers, expecting Kaz to turn, but to Leo’s surprise saw only stuffed pillows and balls of clothing.

“Pathetic,” said a deep voice.

Leo’s eyes widened.

He wheeled with his blades, one slashing low, the other high. His target moved in a blur, easily dodging the blows. Leo kicked, but a meaty hand reached out and seized his foot in mid-air, wrenching him from his feet. He lashed out with his knives again, but Kaz’s foot deflected one blow and before he could follow through, he had been tilted upside down.

A fist slammed into Leo’s gut. He fought for air as the room spun. Panicked and trying to right himself, he dropped his knives, knowing he had others. He grabbed at Kaz, but his target’s long arms kept him at bay.

Kaz carried him across the room.

The cool night air cut through his thin clothing. Moonlight shone in his eyes. He looked down and saw the ground below. He started to scream, but another fist slammed into his gut. The vomit had nowhere to go with the black cloth covering his face and the previous contents of his stomach sloshed around his mouth and cheeks.

Kaz held him by one outstretched arm like a toy.

“Am I the only one?”

Leo met the eyes of the dark foreigner. “Tell me how. Who told you I was coming?”

“Answer me first. Am I the only one?"

“No,” he answered honestly, surprising himself.

Because he bested me. What else can I do with the man who brought down the Shadow of Cadonia like he was a common thief?

“Who else?”

“Everyone. All of your crew.”

“And the queen?”

“Yes.”

“Who hired you?”

“Our contract prohibits us from knowing the identity of our employer.”

Kaz grunted.

“Please. Now tell me who warned you.”

Kaz shook his bald head, a scornful look on his face. “No one. I needed no warning for an amateur.”

Leo fell. He thought about screaming or shouting in protest as the ground rose up to meet him. But that word had been too great of an insult. It echoed in his mind, a word he had never remembered being called, even in his early days.

It was the last word he ever heard.

Amateur.

* * *

Kaz spun on his heels, grabbed his sword, and left his room. He raced down the hall half-dressed, cursing at the guards outside to follow him. They obeyed, but the clanging of heavy armor and labored breathing grew fainter with every step.

He refused to slow, knowing that every second counted against Elyse’s life. The assassin had told him that the Hell Patrol had been targeted as well, but Kaz did not fear for their safety as he did the queen’s. The Hell Patrol had lived this sort of life long enough to look after themselves.

The queen maintained half a dozen guards near her chamber door at all times. Yet, Kaz doubted their ability to defend Elyse any more than his had protected him.

A wide mass of stone, the queen’s tower stood adjacent to the great keep. Kaz entered the tower on the third level through an enclosed walkway. Two guards near the entrance lay with blank stares and blue lips, a dart sticking from each of their throats.

Kaz bounded up the stairs, taking them four at a time. He discovered similar scenes on the next two landings. The last pair of guards had managed to eliminate an assassin before meeting their fate.

Blood trailed up the last remaining steps.

A small hallway at the tower’s top led to three separate rooms. The queen resided at the end. A pile of bodies lay before the large, open double doors—five guardsmen and two black-cloaked figures. A scream sounded beyond the doors and Kaz sprinted toward Elyse’s quarters, hurdling corpses and shouldering his way inside. The door slammed against the wall with a thud.

Elyse crouched behind a toppled dresser in her nightgown. Before her, a battered guardsman swung wildly as the last assassin dodged the sloppy blows. The assassin ducked under a tired thrust and plunged his blade into a gaping joint in the guard’s armor. Crimson flowed from the wound as the guard crashed to the floor.

The black-cloaked figure flicked a glance at Kaz, acknowledging his presence for the briefest of moments. Elyse screamed in fear as she began throwing books at the assassin.

Kaz covered the room in a heartbeat. He leaped into the air and a guttural yell came from his throat. The assassin faced Kaz with his long knife raised in defense. Kaz’s strike pushed aside the assassin’s knife. His sword peeled away a layer of cloth and ear before carving its way down into the man’s neck. Kaz wrenched his blade loose, turned it point down and plunged it into the man’s chest.

Elyse wept in the corner. Kaz dropped his sword and bent down on one knee next to her. She looked up and lunged toward him, throwing her arms over his shoulders and squeezing his neck. She sobbed and he put his sweaty arms around her. He felt her limbs tremble.

“It’s over,” he said.

She took a deep breath. Her sobbing stopped. “You think I would be used to this by now. It isn’t as if this is the first time someone’s tried to kill me.” She sighed. “Will it ever end?”

Kaz grunted. “Eventually. Don’t give up.”

“I know.” She started to stand and Kaz helped her to her feet. “No matter how much the night has shaken me, I need to hide it from all prying eyes or others will use it against me.” She smiled. “Or at least that’s what Jonrell would say.”

“He was a wise man.”

“Yes, he was.”

The clanging of armor told Kaz that the rest of the royal guards had finally caught up to him.

Elyse forced back her remaining tears and quickly wiped her face. Kaz admired the speed in which she composed herself.

Two dozen guards entered. The captain spoke. “Your Majesty, are you—”

Elyse cut him off. “I’m fine. Your men fought well and Kaz reached me in time.”

The captain bowed. “We received word that there have been other attacks.”

“My men,” said Kaz.

“Go,” Elyse said. “See to their safety. Come back when you’re done and see me. I won’t be sleeping any more this night.”

He nodded, grabbed his sword, and sped past the guards and out the door.

* * *

Kaz ran through the dark corridor just as he heard a wet hacking sound behind a closed door.

I’m too late.

Rage took him as he shouldered into the room, splintering the door. His eyes darted frantically about.

An old woman appeared from behind a table. “What in the name of the One Above are you doing?” asked Hag.

She walked from behind the table, exposing a bloodied shirt. His stomach tightened and he took a step forward. “Are you alright?”