The Captain's Assassin

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CHAPTER ONE

He jolted up as if a thousand volts of electricity tore through his body. His head spun and his vision blurred whenever he moved his eyes. The room was bright, cold, and sterile. A hospital?

The last thing Captain Julius Garrick remembered was the fiery destruction of an aeroship exploding over his head. Flaming debris raining down from a perpetual blue sky; a searing pain knifing the back of his head and then…nothing.

Everything went black.

Julius was sure he was dead. Only here he was, alive and sprawled out on a cot, wearing a flimsy smock in some arbitrary infirmary.

“What—” he tried to say, only to break into a hoarse coughing fit.

He felt at his chin and cheeks, craggy stubble clung there, infesting his face in an untamed jumble. The dusky hue of his skin looked sickly pallid, and his mouth was dry and rough as chalk.

A distant explosion shook the room, raining dust from the ceiling and startling Julius. Muted popping sounds were cracking off one after another. Fireworks? No. Alarms were blaring, and an inaudible voice boomed out of a PA, repeating the same autonomous phrase on a continuous loop. The popping sounds wouldn’t stop, and another thudding explosion jolted the room.

This one much closer.

Something raw and bitter squeezed Julius’ gut. Instincts told him whatever was happening wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Grimacing, he dragged his legs out of bed. The naked soles of his feet smacked the cold tile. With as much strength he could muster, he limped toward the windowless door and tried the handle.

Locked.

“He—Hello!” He called out, tugging on the doorknob. “Can an—anyone hear me?”

He rapped on the door. No one was there. Nothing but the blare of alarms, the droning over the PA, and muffled gun blasts—yes, those popping sounds were gunshots. Lots of them.

Julius’ heart ached with anxiety. It was all making sense to him now.

The hospital’s under attack.

He needed to get out of here. Fast.

The door wasn’t an option. Julius needed to try another way.

Slowing the thrash of his heart, Julius looked back into the room. He spotted curtains concealing a window on the opposite side. He hobbled over and threw the curtains aside and froze, mouth agape. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Spirits…

Fires burned through the night. Ash churned in the air and debris and fallen bodies strewed the enclosed courtyard directly below Julius’ window. A downed transport ship lay smoldering on its side, the belly of the craft split open, pouring fire and smoke.

Julius didn’t see any movement down there. Everything was hauntingly still. Whatever carnage that took place here looked recent and judging by the sounds of gunfire peppering the corridors beyond the room, the carnage was yet to end.

But Julius saw a way out. Through the window, he spotted the narrow roofing of a cloister that wasn’t too high to jump down from. He could cushion his fall by landing in the decorative hedgerows lining the perimeter of the courtyard.

It was a gamble, one that outweighed the alternative of being holed up in this room and waiting for the enemy to arrive.

Nearby, Julius grabbed a roller chair and rammed the thing into the glass. The windowpane wobbled, holding firm. Julius rebounded into the room, grimacing at the aches that ripped through his bones.

Julius was a large and stocky man, or at least he used to be. Right now, he was emaciated and possessed the strength of a malnourished child. Regardless, he was going to smash through this window, one way or another.

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Backpedaling, Julius tightened his grip on the chair and ran at the window again. He roared, driving the metal legs of the chair into the pane. Spider web cracks sliced jagged lines into the glass.

Julius smashed through the weakened window with a few strikes from the chair until the space was clear enough to fit through. Stale winds reeking of ash and smoke poured through the opening. Julius bent an arm over his nose and mouth, coughing as the smoke bit the back of his throat. He powered through the bitter cloud of smolder and clambered out onto the narrow ledge that ran along the exterior of the building.

A cold spell of wind ran up his backside. He slowly shuffled his way along toward the cloister rooftop. Sounds of battle echoed around him, rendering it impossible to judge their point of origin. Julius tried not to think of any of that. Escaping this war zone was his only priority.

He reached the cloister and then eased himself down along the edge of the gable, allowing his legs to dangle over. Pushing off, Julius plunged into the bushes. Thorny barbs nipped his skin, but he was okay.

Rolling onto the courtyard stone, Julius paused and looked around before standing up. When he did, a dull ache cried out from his shoulder. It wasn’t there a moment ago, maybe he hit it against something when he landed in the bushes.

Ignoring it for now, Julius staggered into the courtyard. Several dead bodies lay there. Men and women in uniforms. Familiar uniforms.

It was too dark to make out and he was weary of stepping out into the open of the square.

He approached the nearest corpse—a young woman wearing a beige and crimson uniform. On the ground beside her, Julius’ eyes landed on a long spear-pointed blade that looked more like a shard of glass than an actual weapon.

But Julius knew what this weapon was. Yes... a hykir—the distinguished weapon of an Aerokin warrior. The Guild. The Kyten Guild.

Movement, out in the corner of Julius’ eye drew his attention away from the blade. Running into the courtyard from one of the cloisters was a terrified woman and a small child.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks with a gasp, eyes wide on Julius. She was barefoot and wore a dark business suit rifled with stains and dust. Her hair stuck messily to a sweating forehead and a pistol was clutched in her hand.

Julius’ heart spiked at the sight of the gun. He made to move for the hykir.

“Don’t!” The woman warned.

She raised the end of the gun and pointed it at him. The heated gleam in her eye told Julius she wasn’t shy about pulling the trigger.

“Okay,” Julius croaked out, raising his hands.

The woman kept the gun on him, beckoning the little girl cowering behind her to go.

“Wh-What is happening?” Julius asked, struggling to project his voice beyond a hoarse whisper. “Why is this happening?”

A bewildered look crossed the woman’s features. “What does it look like? The city’s being attacked by the Heretics.”

Julius wasn’t sure he heard her clearly. “The what?”

Before she could reply, a deafening roar tore through the courtyard. The little girl shrieked and clutched onto the woman’s waist.

The ground vibrated beneath Julius’ feet.

“What… what is that?” Julius asked.

The woman and the girl didn’t hear him. terrified expressions filled their faces.

“Hurry!” The woman urged. “Go—run!”

Without waiting on Julius, the pair took off down one of the cloisters. Julius was about to go after them but paused and looked back at the hykir lying beside the dead uniformed woman. The ground jolted another shock, sending the long knife rattling against the stone.

Julius grabbed the blade by the hilt and to his amazement, the weapon alit with a hot cyan glow. It hummed in his grasp and a whirling column of grey winds encircled the glassy blade.

Julius was awestruck by this amazing power, but he was shaken out of his senses when the roars came again. This time much closer. He looked in the direction of where the inhumane snarls came from and saw shadows shift against the ground.

Time to go.

Taking off in a limping jog, Julius ran after the woman and girl. He saw them at the end of the cloister, struggling to get past an access door.

“Something's blocking it!” The woman shouted, ramming her shoulder into the door.

“Step aside,” Julius said. He gave the door a shove. It hardly budged an inch. “We have to double back. Find another way…”

The girl screamed.

Roars lashed Julius’ ears.

“No...” The woman whimpered.

Julius turned and looked down the hall. What he saw was unexplainable… something of nightmares.

Multiple figures scuttled towards them. A grotesque forest of twisted limbs and gnashing teeth.

“Get behind me,” Julius instructed. He raised his hykir and aimed it at the approaching monstrosities.

“Y-You’re a Guildsman?” The woman uttered, incredulously.

Guildsman. Yes. Yes, he was.

“I am Captain Julius Garrick, and we will survive this.”

The beasts continued toward them, snarling.

Julius gritted his teeth and prepared for the fight of his life.