The four guards sat around the table playing cards. This was the easiest job any of them had ever had. Lawrence Alexander, the cousin to the mayor and a member of the city council, had asked them to be there. They were sitting in the dining room of the councilman’s home while he and his wife slept upstairs.
The recent rash of violence and the killing of Councilman Strum two nights ago had made several of the other politicians nervous. The guards didn’t mind. Sure, it was extra work, but it was also extra overtime pay, and sitting around a table playing cards and pretending not to drink alcohol was the type of overtime work all city guards dreamed of.
Dan looked at his hand a second time, wondering when his luck would ever change. After looking at their cards, his three friends each threw half a dozen coins into the pot, and Dan was sick of folding. He met the bet.
His mind was not really on the game anyway. He was thinking more about the new men hired into the guard. Some new council member he did not know – Quinton somebody – had rounded up a bunch of mountain men and wilderness trappers, and at least 18 of them had joined the guard within the last 24 hours, almost outnumbering the original guards.
Dan could not put his finger on it, but something strange about the new guards. They did not socialize with the rest of the men as most recruits did, but instead, they kept to themselves. It was odd behavior for city guards to be reclusive. Dan looked around the table at the other three men and could remember several instances in the past few years when he had put his own life in their hands, and they had done likewise. In this job, if you did not know or trust the men you worked with, you endangered your own life.
As Dan emerged from his private thoughts, he noticed that the table's incessant chatter had died down. Looking at the man across from him, he saw that the guard’s eyes were closing. “Hey, Kev,” Dan said to the man. “Is it too late for you?”
Dan started to laugh, but as he slowly looked at the other men at the table, he saw they were unconscious as well. One of them lost his upright position, his head falling hard to the table. Dan figured this should wake him up, but he didn’t move a muscle.
Dan was about to try and wake them when he felt it too. It was an urging like he had never felt before. His mind went almost completely blank as his muscles relaxed and his eyelids fell. Sleep felt like the only thing in the world that mattered. It was as if he had finished running a distance race, and he just needed to relax for a while.
But he didn’t fall asleep. In the back of Dan’s mind, a sixth sense hollered to him that something was dreadfully wrong. With willpower he didn’t know he had, Dan shrugged off the sleep suggestion and tried to focus on his surroundings.
The kitchen door burst open, and Dan turned to meet the intruder. The guard stood slowly, still groggy from fighting off the sleep spell. He started to pull his sword, but a dagger came flying at him, causing him to dodge and forego drawing his weapon to fend off the attack with his arms.
The dagger sliced across his forearm, and the searing pain brought him to full attention. He kicked his chair at the attacker and spun away from the charging man to draw his sword finally. The intruder nimbly avoided the awkward projectile, letting the chair crash into the wall behind him. He pulled out a short sword and charged the guard.
Dan stepped forward to meet the attack, chopping down with his sword, trying to end the fight before it started. The smaller man rolled to the side at the last second, continuing his charge past Dan and scraping his sword across the guard’s side. The fine blade found an opening between the chinks in Dan’s armor, and blood began to flow.
Dan tried to ignore the new wound and turned around to meet his attacker again. Before either man could initiate a new attack, Dan felt a searing arrow slam into his back. He dropped his weapon at the intensity of the pain and reached around to dislodge the offending shaft. As his hands searched out his back, the pain came again, like acid eating away at his body.
There was no arrow, at least not a physical one. Dan never fully understood this, for before he could turn around to identify his new attacker, the magical attack released its third blast of delayed acid damage. This one brought Dan to his knees in pain.
So consumed with this new attack, Dan never saw his original opponent run up to him with his short sword swinging. Though he never saw the killing blow. He felt the stinging cut of the blade across his neck, and his hands felt the warm flow of blood through his fingers as he fell on his face.
His fingers weakly played with the slit in his neck, for it was not something you felt every day, and he barely noticed the fourth blast of acid on his back. His last conscious thought was the realization that Councilman Lawrence Alexander would be dead soon.
Trevor looked down at the city guard as he fumbled with his neck. After a few seconds, confident the man was now dead, he looked up at Reillon. “I thought you said they would all be asleep!”
“He must have had a strong will,” the mage said calmly, not taking offense at the thief’s accusatory words. “The others are unconscious,” he added, waving his arm toward the dining room table.
Trevor looked at the men and nodded. He retrieved his thrown dagger and made short work of the other three guards. Without a word, the two men moved through another room and up a flight of stairs. Like Trevor expected, a light was on. The chair the guard had kicked at him had made a considerable noise when it had crashed into the wall.
The bedroom door was open, and Trevor watched from the shadows as Lawrence poked his head out the door and called downstairs for the guards. After no response, Lawrence went back into the room, and Trevor could hear him telling his wife that he would go downstairs to see if everything was all right.
Trevor and Reillon hurried up the stair before Lawrence reappeared. The two burst into the room, and as the councilman raised the sword he had picked up, a bolt of energy from Reillon held him fast. The two intruders had gone over this plan several times, and Trevor had known about this spell. Still, he asked the question that had been answered several times before. He walked up to the frozen man, bringing his face right up to Lawrence’s. “He can still see, right?” he asked, not looking away.
“Yes,” Reillon answered with only a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “He can hear also. Only his movement is restricted. He is still conscious of everything that is going on.”
“Good,” Trevor said as he moved toward the bed where the councilman’s wife looked on in horror. “I want him to see this.” He brandished his dagger as he eyed up the half-dressed woman in the bed. “All of it.”
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“Remember when you were a kid, and you broke something doing something your father had told you several times not to do?”
It was morning, and John Irenum was standing in Lawrence Alexander’s bedroom. The councilman had been killed with a deep cut across his throat with no other wounds visible and no signs of struggle. His wife on the other hand . . .
“You would think to yourself that your father was going to kill you. I mean, he had told you not to do the exact thing you had done. He had also told you the outcome, but you did it anyway despite the countless times before when he had been right.”
Rebecca Alexander was lying on the floor next to the bed with a sheet over her. John had been told that she was not found this way and that one of his men had added the sheet. Instead of getting mad at him for messing with his crime scene, John was ready to promote the man after one brief look under the sheet.
“You did not want to see him, but you knew you had to. You had one of two choices: try to hide the broken item or deny any involvement. Neither worked well and only increased your punishment when the truth came out.”
In his one brief look under the sheet, John had not seen much, but there was not much of the woman left to see. Even though she was completely naked, it was difficult to determine the gender of the body, or even if it was human at all.
John finally looked away from the scene in front of him to turn to the lieutenant he had been talking to. “So, Allen, ever do something like that when you were a kid?”
“Sir,” the lieutenant replied carefully, knowing what kind of mixed emotions must be going through his head, “the mayor will not hold you responsible for this. No one could have prevented-”
“Sir, Sir, Captain Irenum!”
Speaking more than John had ever heard before, the mayor's page ran up to him. “Sir, the mayor needs to see you right away.”
“Who let this boy up here?!” John barked, quickly ushering the boy out of the room and away from the grizzly scene. “I want you men to clean this place up and take notes of everything you find. I want to know if even one hair is missing from either body. Is that clear!”
The guards scrambled over themselves, verbally responding to the order in turn. John took one last look at the room and humbly followed the page to the mayor’s home.
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“What did I tell you!!!”
John stood tall under the mayor’s rebuke. He knew the man did not really hold him responsible, but his cousin had been killed, and he needed to lash out at something.
“Not only has the street violence not gone down, but they are still killing members of the City Council. And my own cousin! How many men did you have stationed in his home?”
“Four, sir,” John responded.
“Drunks, all of them, I’m sure. I want them all-”
“They’re dead, sir,” John said, knowing the mayor would want their badges and their removal from the guard. “They were killed with such efficiency it scares me. This killer, and I believe that only one blade was used on all six bodies, is of a nature I have never seen. Only one of the guards showed any sign of struggle. It is not possible to sneak up on my men like-”
“Unless they were drinking on the job,” Jerithon bit back, but his insults were slowing down in the presence of John’s calm demeanor. “Do you have any leads at all?”
John looked at the other men in the room. He was standing at the foot of the table, around which the rest of the living councilmen sat. A large group of his own men surrounded this house, and even the oldest council member felt safe now.
Leads? Did he have any? He weighed what Buster and Cal had told him. They both pointed at Entreri, but something about the man did not sit right with him. John had been fortunate to know very few killers in his life. By a killer, he meant that their sole means of income came at the expense of other people’s lives. Each man had been a coward. They all attacked from the shadows and rarely walked out in daylight. John had confronted several one-on-one, and they had all opted to flee than face the sword of the Captain of the City Guards. Only a coward would have mutilated the helpless Rebecca Alexander. Entreri was not a coward.
“What about that man you were investigating?” Quinton said, interrupting the captain’s thoughts. “What did you say his name was? Artemis?”
John’s face twitched at that. How did he remember that?
Jerithon recognized the twitch immediately. “You found something out about him, didn’t you? What did Buster say?”
“Actually,” John started, “Buster wasn’t too fond of him. Artemis is a killer, or at least he was?”
“Was?” Quinton prompted.
John did not want to go into great detail, but he was sure the council had found their scapegoat no matter what he said. Realizing this, he spared little. He told them all about Buster’s evaluation and the report of the killings from up north. John had barely finished before Jerithon exploded.
“What? What are we paying you for? How obvious does something have to be before you accept it? I want this man dead or behind bars waiting to die within the hour, and I won’t take no for an answer!”
“No!”
It did not come from John or anyone else at the table. All heads turned to the side of the room where Ellen came running down the stairs. She had been eavesdropping on the conversation like she always did, but she could no longer stay hidden.
“No. Artemis did not do it, Father. I know it.”
“What are you talking about, girl?” Jerithon’s patience was running thin.
“I know him. He is not a killer, at least not anymore.” The looks she was getting demanded to know more, and she gave it to them. She told them everything from her attack in the alley and how Entreri had saved her to yesterday when she had spoken with the man.
“You did what?!” Jerithon had lost all control by now. “You went to speak with this killer? And here I thought I had raised a smart girl!” He could barely get his thoughts together for a competent sentence, and the next one made little sense. “Out! I want you out of my house! I don’t want to see you again until all this is cleared up! Then we can talk about how you will not see the light of day for the next five years.”
“But, Father-”
“Out!!!” Jerithon rose and slammed his palm down on the table, flipping over half of the coffee mugs.
Ellen did not try and reason with him and was too mad at her father’s stubbornness to try. She nearly sprinted out of the house.
“And you!” Jerithon turned to look at John. “What are you still doing here?! Go get this righteous killer!”
John looked about the room for a brief second, wondering if he would get any help from the other council members. No such luck. None of them wanted to buck the mayor when he was like this. Even if they did, none of them had reason to disbelieve his claim that this Artemis was the killer. John nodded, turned, and left the house.
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The sound of ten guards walking down the street in full armor and weaponry was not something that escaped many people, but still, Entreri thought, they could try to be a bit more discrete.
The news of the most recent murder had not reached Entreri yet, and he could not imagine what could have inspired such a show of force. Unless they were here to kick out his neighbors for selling their produce outside of the market again, Entreri thought. He did recognize John, though.
Entreri put down his hammer and the handful of nails he was holding. “Good morning, Captain,” he said, rising from his half-finished floor. He had never been properly introduced to the man and did not know his name. All he had to work with was the restaurant’s host’s casual reference to his title. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call,” John said, his men fanning out behind him. Three of them detached from the main group and went to investigate the house and the rest of the property. The other six men flanked John and Entreri, three on each side. “By the power granted to me by the city of Garrilport, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Councilman Fredrick Strum, Councilman Lawrence Alexander, both their wives, Councilman Strum’s two children, and four city guards.”
Though none of the men saw it, Entreri changed his entire demeanor. In a split second, he had transformed from Artemis Entreri, a carpenter, to Artemis Entreri, the most dangerous man alive. He felt the weight of his dagger tucked under his shirt, and his mind played out a dozen different ways to draw it with either hand, depending on which direction he would have to attack first. His eyes picked out the nervous hands of the guards in front of him, predicting which ones he would have to worry about and which would fold under pressure. His ears located the three men busy searching his property, and he determined if they were within striking distance. The only visual change that came over him was the intensity of his stare. It was subtle, but it sent chills down the spine of the seven men in front of him.
“I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to talk with the mayor’s daughter, have you?”
Entreri could see at once that the captain had indeed talked to the woman, but John made no verbal confirmation. “Are you going to come willingly?”
“What proof do you have?” Entreri asked. John started a response, but the assassin cut him off. “Besides the blacksmith and any report from the north. Do you have anything that links me to these murders?”
John could not believe what he was hearing. In not so many words, this man had just admitted to the killings from up north. He had also revealed that his heart was just as black as Buster had said. Still, he dared to deny any connection to the murders here in Garrilport. Like there could be two such killers loose!
“Captain,” came a call from behind Entreri. It was one of the men who had left to search the property. John also noticed that it was one of the new men Councilman Quinton Palluge had hired. “We found these in the hay trough for his horse in the back.”
“Of course,” Entreri said, not even bothering to look at the planted evidence. “That way, my horse might accidentally eat them. What kind of fool do you take me for?”
John did not like the implication from Entreri that his men were setting the killer up. He liked even less what the items were. They were the crystal sculptures of ships given to the two dead councilmen. Each sculpture had one of the dead men’s names. “Take him!”
John did not even know what happened. Two of his men approached Entreri with their weapons drawn, and a second later, they were reeling backward, one grabbing onto his broken and bloody nose, the other clutching his now empty sword arm as blood seeped through his fingers. Entreri looked as though he had never even moved, though a dagger had magically appeared in his hand.
“You would attack city guards?!” John cried, pulling his own sword.
“You would arrest an innocent man?!” Entreri fired back. “I have not killed anyone in this town and do not wish to start now. Everything I have ever told has been the absolute truth. I did not kill those men.” John was about to bring up the outlandish stories he had told at their lunch, but Entreri’s gaze cut him off as though the assassin could read his mind. “Everything has been the truth.”
John wanted to kill this man. He could see the evil now that Buster had claimed was so obvious. This man had killed a dozen people up north, and John believed now, as did the mayor, that this man was their killer.
Entreri saw this transformation and smiled at John. “I have not killed anyone yet, but you are welcome to be the first.”
“Captain!”
The call saved John’s life, for he was just about to attack the assassin. John was not crazy enough to turn his back to Entreri. “What is it?” he called over his shoulder.
“The guardhouse is under attack!”
John did relent in his standoff with Entreri this time. He turned to see that one of the guards’ messenger boys brought the news. “Speak up, boy.”
The kid had obviously just run from the city’s center and was out of breath. “It was just after you left, Sir. I don’t know who they are or how many there are, but we are under attack. There is a wizard too. Someone who can shoot fireballs out of his hands and summon all kinds of horrible creatures.”
The kid was talking nonsense now. “Who sent you?”
“Draick sent me,” the kid responded. “He said you need to come back right away. He feared that you might not even be able to make it back in time.”
“But I was just there not fifteen minutes ago,” John said, confused by this turn of events. Draick was not his best man. Heck, half the time, it seemed like he was working for somebody else, but he knew the man did not get things wrong often. For someone to be able to seriously threaten the guardhouse in a matter of fifteen minutes was outlandish.
Entreri interrupted the captain’s thoughts. “There is your killer, Captain. Be glad it’s not me. I’d be able to take down your pathetic guardhouse in five minutes, and I would have never let a child escape to warn you.”
John turned at the insult, wanting to run the man through, but he knew he did not have time to deal with both issues right now. “I want you out of my city within the hour. If you are not gone by the time I get back from handling this other issue, I will burn your shack down around you as you pack.”
With that, the captain turned to leave. Before following their leader, a few men regarded Entreri with threatening glares and motions with their weapons. Entreri returned each look with one of his own, sending the men away faster still. About the only ones that did not give the accused murderer a parting glance were the two men whose blood Entreri had shed. They had fought with the deadly assassin for about half a second each, and both were looking forward to a full-out battle with the mysterious wizard.
Entreri did not need the captain’s ultimatum. Even if he had somehow convinced John of his innocence, he would have left anyway. He had prided himself in staying away from trouble for as long as he did, but true to his nature, trouble had found him. He had not been in Halfway more than one hour before killing five men. Here he had lasted a few weeks. It was something to build on.
Granted, he had not been presented with the same conflicts that Halfway had given him, but he had some. Billy, the young pickpocket, stood out clearly. The old Entreri would have handled that situation much differently. He had not been above killing children when the need had arisen in the past. He had just tried to think of them as halflings. Most of the time, they were anyway.
Curiosity for what was going on back at the guardhouse did not entice him in the slightest. Just like the dead councilmen, it was not his problem. Heck, in half an hour, it would not even be his city anymore. Entreri had not accumulated much for packing, but what he did have would easily fit through his ivory portal and into the dragon cave several hundred miles away. Without much further thought on the matter, Entreri prepared to leave.