House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  It was hard for her to understand what was going on, but Thera realized that the evil wanted to seize the Voice from her, and consume its power to grow strong again. Tendrils had reached into her mind to rip it out. The Voice had reacted, throwing up walls of fire to repel the invasion. If it couldn’t kill her mind, then it would rip apart her body instead. The darkness had no body of its own, so it called for its children to destroy her. The Voice threw up another wall, this time in the real world, to keep out the demons.

  This duel would remain between gods. The darkness was satisfied by that. Its hate alone was sufficient to kill another god.

  The darkness cut the Voice. It bled stars.

  * * *

  The Lost House appeared through the rain.

  It was on a patch of high ground, overlooking the flooded forest. Ashok had sprinted past many ruined buildings half submerged and rotting along the way, but the great house was a thing of restored beauty. Though much smaller, it was styled like the one in Vadal, the place where his fraud had begun, but unlike it, this one had no exterior fortifications. The high walls around it had collapsed during whatever catastrophe had swallowed this city. Good. That was one less thing for him to climb.

  There was no time for subtlety. He ran as fast as the Heart could drive him, climbing the old trade road, heading straight for the front doors of the House of Assassins.

  The foot path had led to a once respectable road, now cracked and overgrown with weeds. There were fields, orchards, and pens of livestock where great government buildings had once stood. Humble homes had been built along the way, and these were obviously lived in, but they were of no interest to Ashok. The man who could free Thera would be inside the big one, along with an unknown number of powerful wizards, who would not look kindly upon his trespass.

  He did not know what fate awaited Thera should the demonic thing defeat her, but he would not—could not—allow that to happen.

  There were more Dasa guarding the house.

  The doors behind them were closed, sure to be locked, and they were solid enough to hold off a battering ram for a time. And a ram would be difficult to use, since the only way to reach those doors was up curving stairs. There were no windows along the first floor. The mansion houses built for the tribal rulers back before the Age of Kings had been designed to be beautiful and defensible.

  Like the great house of Vadal, it would have been constructed with other entrances for house slaves and those not important enough to warrant entering through the main hall. Only Thera did not have time for him to search for one of those.

  The Dasa started toward him.

  Ashok shouted the old command for them to stop.

  They kept coming.

  There were five of the ancient constructs. Functioning at their highest level, without Angruvadal to help him, Ashok did not know if he would be able to defeat that many at all, and even if he could, surely by then Thera would be dead.

  So instead of slowing to fight them, Ashok ran right through them.

  He ducked beneath a sword, and rammed his shoulder into a Dasa, driving it back into one of its companions. The three of them fell onto the road, but Ashok used his momentum to roll off them, and sprang back to his feet. He narrowly dodged a hurled spear. Another Dasa got ahold of his long coat as he passed, but Ashok shrugged out of it and kept running.

  The Dasa chased after him.

  They ran through the rain likes wolves on his heels. He’d fought these things before, but he didn’t know if he could outrun them for long.

  The house loomed ahead of him. Rather than aim for the solid doors, he’d go for the stained-glass windows far above it. Even a Protector could not leap that high, but the stone work was rough enough to climb. He just needed to get close.

  The Heart made his legs strong, and he launched himself at the wall. Ashok then concentrated its magic into his hands and arms before impact. He slammed into the stones, but with fingers that could bend nails, latched on, and immediately began to climb. With the fresh rain and slick moss, it took everything he had not to slip.

  The Dasa skidded to a halt beneath him, and looked up with their blank blue heads. It took them a moment to process this development, but then they latched onto the wall and began climbing after him. They were fierce, but they weren’t nearly as agile as he was. He had a lead.

  Ashok pulled himself up next to the window. It was made of thousands of colorful bits of leaded glass, held in an intricately twisted iron frame, forming a beautiful picture of some ancient Thakoor, now forgotten by the world. He smashed a hole with his fist, grabbed hold of the central iron bar, and pulled with all his unnatural might. With a roar he wrenched it from its mortar.

  The window exploded. Colorful glass rained down on the pursuing Dasa. Rather than just toss down the bar, Ashok hurled it like a spear, knocking the closest servant from the wall. Then he stepped inside the House of Assassins.

  Below him was the great hall, and there were wizards there.

  Surprise, lawbreakers.

  Ashok jumped down from the window ledge. His boots hit the stone with an impact that would’ve broken a normal man’s legs, and he immediately started toward the nearest wizard.

  “Where is Sikasso?”

  “Intruder!” That shocked wizard grabbed hold of a piece of magic hanging from a sash around his chest, but Ashok was already on him. He grabbed a handful of hair, and smashed the wizard’s face into a nearby statue. Blood from his shattered nose sprayed everywhere.

  There were two more on the other side of the hall. He’d obviously interrupted their conversation. “Where is Sikasso?” Ashok was still holding up the dazed wizard by the hair, so he brained him again, this time hard enough to leave a chunk of blood and hair on one marble corner. “Where?”

  It was said that there was nothing more terrifying than a Protector when he was angry, and Ashok had been the most frightening of them all. They were momentarily taken off balance by his sudden appearance and violence of action, but these were not normal lawbreakers. They were professional killers. They reacted. Hands flashed. Knives flew.

  Ashok swung the unconscious wizard around, and his human shield caught the blades instead. Dropping the body, Ashok drew his sword and lunged toward the wizards. They’d only been twenty feet away. He covered that in two steps.

  These wizards fought like Chattarak had, using magic to make themselves incredibly fast. Only they were not as experienced as the barge master had been, and he only needed one to question. Ashok had nothing left to live for except his final vow. No office, no ancestor blade, he had lost every purpose except protect the prophet, and he had just seen her in mortal danger. It was hard to keep a man of such dedication from his goal. It would take a legion of wizards to stop his rampage.

  The first wizard had drawn a short sword as he backpedaled. Ashok caught it with his longer blade and steered it aside, then he kicked that wizard’s legs out from beneath him. The other lunged at him with a pair of daggers, but Ashok rolled around them, and then turned and slashed into the wizard’s body as he passed by. Steel bit deep into muscle.

  The first hit the ground. The second’s out-of-control momentum carried him into another statue. The impact toppled the ancient artwork from its perch, and it cracked in two when it hit the floor. That wizard tried to push himself off the wall, but Ashok slashed again, this time aiming for the back of his legs. He screamed and went down.

  Ashok stepped on the first one’s sword, and then he stabbed him in the shoulder as he tried to rise. “Where is Sikasso?” He looked back to see that the door was shaking, but it had been barred from the inside. Except that locked door wouldn’t matter for long, because a blue head appeared in the broken window. The Dasa were excellent climbers.

  Turning back to his interrogation, the wizard had reached for some demon bit on his belt, but Ashok twisted his sword, widening the puncture, and the wizard’s face contorted in agony. “I will not ask again.”

  “The vault! Sikasso’s
in the vault. Back over there. Down the hall, down the stairs.”

  Ashok pulled his sword from the wizard’s shoulder. A gout of blood spurted from the hole and the wizard cried out. He would have finished them on principle but he lacked the time, and besides, they were out of the fight. The Dasa however, would never quit. He saw one of them climbing through the broken window, and it was trying to figure out how to climb down. So Ashok picked up the broken chunk of statue, cocked back his arm, and threw. The stone hit that Dasa in the side of its head, and since it was already precariously balanced, it slipped from its perch, and fell outside.

  As he ran down the hall he could hear more wizards shouting. They knew they’d been invaded. The rest of them would have their magic ready and would be hunting him in number.

  He found the curling stairs, and he heard a few sets of footsteps rushing up. His first instinct was to hurl himself down into them, and stab as many times as possible as they tumbled to the bottom, but these men were not his target. Only Sikasso was. So Ashok stepped behind a hanging tapestry and waited. If Sikasso was among them, he’d strike, if not, he’d let them pass.

  He heard a panicked voice. “It’s got to be Ashok!”

  “It can’t be yet. He can’t fly and no one is that fast. There’s got to be a demon in the house!”

  Same result for your kind either way, Ashok thought idly as he waited for the wizards to rush past. Once they were gone he moved silently down the stairs, bloody sword in hand.

  The basement was cool. There were decorative lanterns hanging from the walls, but there was enough distance between them that it was a gloomy, shadowed place. The vault was obvious, because the metal door was like something from the Capitol Bank. Unfortunately, it was closed. He’d run all the way here because he couldn’t break through a magical barrier, only to find another made of iron.

  Ashok snarled at the sight. He hadn’t thought to torture the location of a key from the wizards above. If the gods wanted him to protect Thera so badly, they were certainly making it difficult. Those ungrateful bastards.

  The brass wheel on the vault door turned, as someone opened it from the other side.

  Maybe there was something to this prayer nonsense after all?

  The heavy door swung open. There was a diminutive wizard standing there, obviously in a hurry, arms wrapped around a heavy sack bulging with demon parts. His eyes widened when he saw Ashok standing before him. Before he could react, Ashok slammed his fist into the side of the wizard’s head hard enough to stun a horse. The little man hit the ground, spilling the sack. Bits of demon wrapped in cloth rolled across the floor.

  Ashok stepped into the vault.

  It was cold inside. The room was so large that the dim light cast by the few burning candles was insufficient to reveal most of it. Chains dangled from the ceiling, and each of those ended with a big metal meat hook. Many of the hooks were filled. He’d gone inside a worker’s slaughterhouse once, and its storeroom had felt similar to this, only it wasn’t goats and sides of beef hanging from these hooks, but partial demons. White flesh and black hide dangled.

  Along the walls were shelves, filled with books, scrolls, glass beakers, and wooden boxes. There were dried plants, both whole and ground into powder. At the back of the room was an alchemist’s work station, where bottles of mysterious liquids boiled atop torches.

  And there was the wizard Sikasso.

  They’d never really been introduced before he’d turned into a bird and Ashok had removed his wing with an axe, but he recognized his target. Sikasso was a plain-looking, unremarkable man, of average size and build, who’d have no problem disappearing into any crowd. But here, in his home, he wore fine robes and carried himself like a proud Thakoor.

  “Ashok Vadal,” the wizard said as he took up a sheathed sword that had been leaning against the desk. Sikasso drew the blade and tossed the scabbard aside. “I knew you would come. I have been eagerly awaiting the day I could repay you for taking my arm.”

  He seemed to have both arms now, but Ashok did not pretend to understand the strange ways of wizards. He stepped over the unconscious man and started toward Sikasso. “I’ve come for Thera. Remove your magical barrier or else.”

  Sikasso might have been dreaming about his revenge since their last meeting, but of the many things he might have expected Ashok to say, apparently that had not been among them. “What barrier?”

  “The dome of hardened air you have placed around Thera and the demon thing. Remove it!”

  “I’ve done no such thing. I don’t even know a pattern like that.”

  “The wizard Kabir said it was your creation.”

  “You believed deceitful Kabir?” Sikasso laughed, genuinely amused. “He sent you to kill me? Oh, that’s good. A bold play from the lad, I can respect that. No, foolish Protector, such a potent shield pattern would have to come from the idol inside of it…or perhaps, the power within Thera is defending itself. If that’s the case, then maybe I can salvage something of use from her after all. Either way, you’re wasting your time with me.”

  Ashok hated many things, but liars especially galled him. The wizard’s surprise seemed real, and he still needed to free Thera somehow, but Sikasso might just be trying to save his miserable life.

  “I’m already here. I will kill you just in case.”

  “A logical choice, except you will not find victory so easy this time, Black Heart. I’ve made a few changes since last we met.”

  Every candle in the vault was snuffed out, plunging them into darkness.

  Chapter 40

  The gods were trying to tear each other apart. They attacked and countered each other a million times between each of Thera’s pounding heartbeats. She was helpless to stop them.

  No. She was a daughter of Vane. She was never helpless.

  There was nothing she could do in a battle between gods that was moving too fast for her to comprehend. But there was still the real world. Maybe she could do something there?

  Her muscles seemed frozen. She didn’t think that was the evil’s doing. It was more likely the Voice trying to immobilize her so she didn’t injure herself, like sometimes happened during the damnable seizures it had inflicted upon her.

  Let me go, she pleaded.

  Her god wasn’t merciful. It had used her cruelly and given her nothing but misery. But they were in this together. If she died, it would die.

  Let me help, she commanded.

  Suddenly, her joints unlocked and her limbs responded. But with that freedom came unbelievable pain.

  Thera fell in the mud. It was as if her body was on fire, and a giant metal screw was being turned through the bone of her forehead. She’d been wrong. The Voice closing most of her senses off had been an act of mercy.

  She could barely see. Light scalded her eyes. There was cold mud beneath her and everything else was made of pain. Trying to look away from the light, she could make out black shapes hurling themselves toward her. Demons! Except they were being turned aside, again and again, their bodies squishing like watching a thumb press against the side of a bottle. Only no glass in the world could withstand a demon. For a moment she thought that maybe the pain had driven her mad, because a black shape appeared that was gigantic, the size of a house, and it was coming for her.

  The great demon crashed against the Voice’s wall. It was larger than an elephant, big as the legends had said whales were supposed to have been. When it hit the blackness seemed to flatten against an invisible wall, from ground level to over twenty feet in the air. It didn’t break through, but the impact shook the whole world. The massive thing slowly picked itself up, and began plodding away. It was going to make another run.

  Something cold struck her burning skin. It was rain water falling through from above. That impact had put cracks in the magic. Nothing could hold for long against a demon so vast.

  Thera turned back toward blindness. The idol was just ahead of her, its hate the only thing burning hotter than her pain. She knew thi
s thing was just a container for a splinter of the real evil, a receptacle, like when Omkar had tried to show her how to send visions from one piece of bone to another. She needed to break the container. Her hand fell on a thick leg bone, heavy as a club. It would do.

  Forcing herself to her feet, Thera stumbled toward the idol. She crashed against it, cold and waxy to the touch. She drew back and began striking it with the bone. She didn’t know what she expected it to do. Her muscles were racked with so much pain she could barely move. This thing had fallen from the sky in a fireball and hit the ground so hard they’d eventually turned the hole into a reservoir. Her feeble efforts wouldn’t even scratch it.

  Thera kept on hitting it anyway.

  The wizards had tried to teach her about the patterns that made up magic, but none of it had made sense to her. They’d gone into that dark area just outside of the real world, where the patterns were made plain, but she’d still been nearly blind. Only the most powerful magical creations had registered to her at all.

  The pattern that suddenly appeared before her eyes was nothing like what she’d seen before. This wasn’t some hastily drawn afterimage a wizard had scribbled into a book. The Voice was showing her exactly what to do and how to do it, down to the smallest particle. She could see the elements moving into place. The purpose was clear. The gods were showing her how to make a real weapon.

  Thera concentrated on that pattern, just as Omkar had shown her, and then she applied it to the raw material in her hands. All of the latent demon magic that still resided in that piece of bone awoke at once. It turned from a lifeless club into a molten spear.

  She’d never felt so powerful.

  The ground rumbled as the massive demon began a new charge. It was going to blast right through the Voice’s wall this time and flatten her into a red mess beneath its giant webbed feet.

  Thera lifted the spear high and shouted a war cry she’d not used since she was a little girl playing at Dirt War. “Vane is here!” Then she drove the concentrated point of magic down into the idol. It struck in a shower of sparks and burned a hole right through it.