It was two hours after dusk and with most of its inhabitants gone, the town was pitch dark. The only light came from the homes of those who hadn’t been ordered to leave. The carpenters, the masons, the fletchers, and the blacksmith. Gav looked at Arden’s house from afar. It was just across the street from the workshop and there were no lights in the windows. The old man did prefer to go to bed early. Idly, he wondered what they told the old blacksmith about him, or if they told him at all. They had to have done, or he’d be wandering the streets looking for him.
Reluctantly, Gav tore his gaze from the neat two storey house and winced as he began walking. This whole job had been a disaster. His arms and ribs were bruised, he was known to his target, and it was likely that his target knew when he was coming. Even if he made the kill, it was hard to see this job as anything but an abject failure. He would get an earful from his master and rightly so.
The castle walls loomed in the distance. No fires had been lit, not even covered ones, but Gav was in no doubt that they would be well manned. The lights in the keep behind them blazed brightly. They were on full alert. The arrival of reinforcements had been a lie. Once he’d hid the bodies, Gav had staked the castle’s south gate out. They had remained shut until dusk when he left to retrieve his equipment.
As he approached the castle wall, Gav pulled a small paper envelope from his pocket and hesitated before swallowing its contents. He gagged and his head began to spin as he choked the bitter powder down with a swig of water. He despised the concoction, but it couldn’t be helped. Then, he checked his black tunic and leggings, ensuring that there was no exposed skin. Then came the hood and mask. He hated the latter. It limited his vision and made it difficult to breathe, but he was glad he had brought these precautions along. A final check on his knives and the sword slung across his back, and everything was in order. It was time to begin.
“He’s certainly keeping us waiting, isn’t he?” Randal remarked as he leaned back in an easy chair with his fingers laced behind his head.
He and Vick were in his office on the third floor of the keep like they had been for most nights over the past week. However, this time, instead of planning for the defence of the town, they found themselves trying to occupy their minds to stop themselves from jumping at shadows. The usual four guards were on duty outside the room as usual, but tonight, another four guards were stationed in the office, and another twelve in the bedchambers across the corridor. Every other floor of the keep was also crammed with soldiers who were waiting to spring into action at their lord’s order.
The walls began to creak, causing the pair to jump. They looked at one another and smiled uneasily. “Somehow, it’s worse than waiting for the Balith forces to get here.”
Vick glanced at a report that had just arrived by carrier pigeon. It stated that skirmishers were enjoying great success in harrying Balith scouts and that their army’s advance should be delayed by at least another week. Good news, to be sure, but it was hard for him to take heart from it.
Guilt gnawed at him at him. He knew full well that sending a squad of soldiers to pick the apprentice lad up would have been just as effective. However, if the boy turned out to be innocent and told his master about what happened, it could have irreparably damaged their relationship. So, the Lord of Adlecrest had concocted a scheme where he would be ambushed and interrogated by bandits while the garrison was conveniently absent. That had backfired spectacularly and cost him the lives of five good men, one of whom had been a dear friend, all because of his reverence for Arden Veyer.
He heard the old blacksmith had taken the news stoically when the town guard informed him. Vick regretted that he couldn’t do it in person, but it was too dangerous for him to leave the castle with the boy on the loose.
“What’s so funny?” Randal asked as Vick began to chuckle.
Vick shook his head. “Look at us, paralyzed inside the castle because of one infiltrator. Imagine if all this happened while the Balith were at our gates.”
Randal frowned. “Are you suggesting he won’t come tonight after all?”
“Maybe he’s already gone, leaving us to chase shadows until they get here,” Vick mused.
“So, should we stand down?” Randal ventured. “The men’s nerves are frayed from so many days on alert.”
Vick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see if he comes tonight and make the decision in the morning.”
Randal sighed and rubbed his temples. “This could be a long night.”
“One way or another,” Vick breathed.
Time ticked on, and Vick stifled a yawn. He glanced at the guards in his room and saw that they too were bleary eyed.
“Send a runner to summon four fresh guards from downstairs,” he ordered. “You four are relieved once they arrive.”
As one of them walked towards the door to comply, Randal leapt out of his chair. The guard froze and all eyes went to the younger man.
“Is he here?” Vick asked in a hushed whisper.
Randal held a finger up, indicating for the others to be quiet and closed his eyes as he strained his senses. After a few tense minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at Vick.
“Is he here?” the older man repeated. Sweat poured down from his forehead, and his knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword.
“I can’t be sure,” Randal said. “I felt something faint… Let me get to the corridor. Perhaps I can get a better feel for where he is from there.”
Vick swallowed and nodded. Without having to be told, the four guards in the room closed in around their lord. Their sleepiness had vanished in a flash, and each was looking around the room warily. It was lit with candles that cast long shadows into every corner, and they feared that the assassin could be lurking in any one of them.
Once he saw everyone was in place, Randal stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him out of habit. Once it was shut, Vick felt a sudden chill. Moments later, something roughly the size of a pomegranate came flying in through the window. He hadn’t time to utter a warning when it exploded, filling the room with acrid smoke.
The smoke assaulted the men’s lungs, triggering violent coughing fits. Gav swung in through the window. His mouth and nose were covered by a damp cloth. Despite the protection, and being trained to resist the smoke, his eyes watered and his lungs itched. Through his tears, he saw that his target was well surrounded and clad in thick armour. That was to be expected. With deft flicks of his wrist, he extinguished the candles with precise throws of his knives, plunging the room into darkness.
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He then drew his sword and launched himself at the men who were doubled over as they coughed. Two died quickly, leaving the path open to his target. However, the remainder, noticing the deaths of their fellows, moved quickly to bar the path with their bodies. Vick too had recovered enough to put distance between himself and Gav and drew his sword.
As Gav prepared to cut down the remaining two guards, he felt the sensation of ants crawling against the back of his skull. As it grew stronger, the door to the room swung open. Gav hurled himself to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut. Moments later, a ball of fire came flying through the threshold, briefly turning night into day. It whizzed across the room and out the window, erupting in a great explosion over the courtyard.
Outside, Gav heard soldiers cry in alarm. He could feel the vibration of dozens of armoured boots charging up the stairs. He leapt to his feet and saw stars despite having closed his eyes as he looked for his target.
Vick too had shielded his eyes when the fireball came spinning through the room, but he was having difficulty making out anything more than vague shapes. He saw one lunge towards him and hurled a side table at it.
Gav dodged it easily, but the pause enabled a guard to launch himself at him. The guard swung his sword wildly, and Gav sidestepped the first blow and slashed him across the throat. Mortally wounded, the guard hurled his sword at Gav, who was forced to swat it aside with the flat of his sword. The guard then tackled Gav with both arms and used his bulk to push them both towards the window. Gav desperately pounded on the man’s neck with the hilt of his sword but was unable to prevent him from pushing them both through the window.
Gav reached out desperately and managed to grab onto the window ledge with his fingers. The guard attempted to grab his ankle as he fell, but he had used all the strength he had left, and all he could manage was to tear the hem of Gav’s trousers as he fell. He was dead before his body hit the courtyard.
As he hung from the ledge, Gav could hear soldiers streaming into Vick’s office, and cursed. His master had always warned him that desperate plans were doomed to fail. He gritted his teeth, there would be plenty of time for reflection later. For now, he had to escape. He looked down and took a deep breath before dropping to the ledge on the floor below, landing neatly on his toes. The room that had been crammed with men before was now empty, and he could see them out in the corridor, attempting to get up the jam packed stairs to their lord.
Taking a deep breath, he looked around to assess the situation. The sentries on the wall were looking at the keep but their night vision had been affected by the fireball, and they had difficulty picking him out in his clothes that had been carefully dyed so that they were the same colour as the castle’s stone walls. Making his decision, he dropped down to the first level and then to the courtyard, where he disappeared into the night.
Vick was filled with grief as he stared at the broken corpse lying in the courtyard. His name had been Lest Byran, and he joined Vick’s army five years ago, eager for a life of glory and adventure. Randal was kneeling over him, examining a scrap of fabric they had found in Lest’s hand under the light of a flare.
“It’s soaked in alcite powder,” Randal said, sounding troubled. “He knew about my powers and how to hide himself from me.”
“He did his duty,” Vick said numbly. “Even when mortally wounded, he protected me to the very end.”
Randal turned around and was troubled by the depth of his friend’s despair. “He knew how important you are to our cause and gave his life gladly.”
“There’s no sign of him?” Vick ventured.
Randal turned to the nearby captain of the guard who shook his head. “No, My Lord, it appears that he made a clean getaway.”
“Stand the men down,” Vick said after a moment’s thought. “They have been up all night, and most are dead on their feet.”
“My men can…” the captain began.
“That’s not safe!” Randal blurted, overriding him.
Vick shook his head. “The men are exhausted from days of high alert. We need to get our priorities in order. Besides, I don’t think he will attack again tonight. He will sit back and observe and wait for another opening.”
Randal and the captain exchanged dubious looks while Vick looked at the wall. At length, the Lord General took a deep breath. “That boy, he looked young enough to be my son…”
“Grandson maybe,” Randal scoffed.
Vick broke into a tired smile. “I’m only thirty five, you know.”
“You look at least fifty,” Randal said good-naturedly.
Melancholy gripped Vick again as he stared at the body. “Seeing him in action earlier, even if it was just a glimpse… it’s no surprise that he bested Sir Feryn and his men.”
“He is very capable,” Randal agreed.
“I wonder, just what sort of life does one have to lead to become such a proficient killer at so young an age?” Vick mused out loud.
“Fourteen years of war,” Randal remarked. “At least three generations will be irreparably harmed because of the Great Traitor’s actions.”
Vick grunted noncommittally. His friend was too young to know the truth, but there was no point in telling him now. This wasn’t the time. He sighed again before making his decision. “It’s time we relocated everyone to the castle.”
Randal raised an eyebrow. “This early? The craftsmen will be less productive in our workshops than their own.”
“It can’t be helped,” Vick replied. “We don’t know what mischief he will get to out there.”
“Are you considering setting fire to the town?” Randal asked worriedly.
Vick looked at his friend in surprise and let out a soft chuckle. “No, at least not yet. However, our valuable craftsmen are in harm’s way with him out there. We cannot discount him turning his gaze to them.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t already, to be honest,” Randal remarked. “However, won’t evacuating the town make it easier for him to move around out there?”
“Slightly, perhaps,” Vick remarked. “Most of the town is completely deserted anyway.”
“I suppose,” Randal allowed. “That leaves the question of how to find him.”
Vick sighed. “The men need to turn their minds to the defence of the town. We can’t spare the men to comb through the town building by building.”
“So we let him run amok until the enemy gets here?” Randal asked incredulously.
“And we’re releasing the castle garrison to take their positions on the wall,” Vick added.
“But Lord Vick!” Randal began in protest.
“We will have a lot more than one assassin to worry about if the wall isn’t properly manned,” Vick said sharply. “Look how much havoc one infiltrator is causing. If more slip into our walls, the town will be lost.”
“He’s after your head!” Randal cried.
“Then let him try to take it,” Vick said. “A greater foe is coming. They are the priority.”
“This town is lost without you, and with it, so is the rest of the Finger,” Randal said quietly.
“Adlecrest will not be lost so long as the brave men of Norrow are willing to defend it,” Vick declared loudly. “The mission of these fine men is to protect this town, and their homes, not one man!”
“That is not to say I won’t be taking precautions,” Vick added quickly. “I shall discuss the finer points with you in private, but our nights spent huddling in the keep are over.”
Gav peeped out of the first floor window of an unoccupied castle building. He had managed to sneak in just after the castle guards finished sweeping it during the chaos of his escape and decided it would be his base of operations from here on. Calm had returned to the castle and some of the guards were standing down to rest after their long night.
As the adrenaline wore off, Gav began to take stock of the night’s misadventure. He had no more vildurn root, so he could no longer track the mage once the effects of his last dose wore off, he had used all but three of his throwing knives and had no way to replenish them either, and he had failed to kill his target. He desperately wished he could meet with his master to discuss his next steps but had no way of finding him.
He shook his head in frustration. This was his first big job, and he had encountered so many failures. He had a long way to go as an assassin. Not that it was a calling he enjoyed. He did it because he wanted to bring an end to this awful war and to the suffering of the common folk and these failures did nothing but cause needless deaths.
The main source of his frustration though was that he knew precisely where he had gone wrong. All his problems stemmed from his not having the ruthlessness to kill Lord Vick the first moment he met him. It had been he who had insisted on assassinations in the name of the greater good, and he had lost sight of that in his efforts to protect the feelings of an old man who had helped him out. Now, eight men had needlessly lost their lives.
Gav knew he could no longer afford to hesitate. Lord Vick’s men were standing down because they thought he would not strike twice in the same night. Normally, he’d sit back and watch for an opening, and to ensure that this wasn’t another trap. However, it was high time he threw caution to the wind. If this was another trap, he’d just have to use his strength to break through and complete this job once and for all.