by Kyle Prue
After hours of waiting, any normal assassin would have drifted off. Not the Marksman. He was always focused and ready for anything. That’s how his kind operated. Not only did they all possess super human senses, but they also had razor-sharp focus. Their brains always functioned on a higher level, and they never turned off.
This was one of the reasons that the Marksman despised being around people. In nature everything smelled, felt, sounded and tasted as it should. People complicated things. They added spices to their foods. They perfumed themselves. They sang songs. They wore makeup. They denied the basic genius and perfection of nature. Even thinking about it made Victor nauseated.
Finally he saw the troops making their way through the streets to Beaton’s home. The Marksman double checked his weapons and stood from his crouching position. He smirked and proceeded down the mountain. It was time to make his living.
Beaton hobbled into his lavish home and threw off his coat. A guard picked it up and tossed it onto a coat hook on the wall. “All right, everyone. I’m going to sleep,” Beaton grumbled as he started towards his staircase. “Keep a perimeter. Those Imperial bastards won’t repel themselves.”
Suddenly the Marksman leapt through a glass window and rolled into Beaton’s atrium. Before any of the guards could react or prepare weapons, he was drawing pistols and firing. He pulled two guns from the two holsters at his hips and fired them into the guards at Beaton’s side. He quickly dropped the guns and pulled out two that had been strapped to his back. He quickly unloaded them into Beaton’s remaining guards and whipped out his prized rifle to execute the final sentry.
Beaton gasped as he realized his entire group had been disposed of in less than ten seconds. “Damn, Victor. I know you’re killing for the Empire, but somehow I thought you’d leave me out of it.”
The Marksman began to relax. “It’s not the Empire who wants you dead. Well, actually it is. But the other arms dealers in the area are paying me. You can’t sell to the rebels and expect the competition not to be savage.”
Beaton glanced around his home with a sentimental look in his eye. “You really have the guts to put a bullet in me?”
The Marksman drew a pistol from a holster on his chest. “Of course not,” he said. His eyes settled on the chandelier above Beaton. “I could never do that to my old friend.”
He fired straight through the chain holding the chandelier. It fell and crushed Beaton as if he were an insect. The Marksman didn’t even blink as it fell. He strutted over to his weapons and began to reclaim them; he stopped once he heard coughing coming from the pile of crystal where Beaton had been. “You’re still alive?” he asked. Beaton replied with a cough. “I’m glad I remembered. We met in Abington about a month ago and you’d stopped in a pub for a beer. Do you remember what the establishment was called?”
Beaton dragged his crushed body out from under the broken chandelier. “The… Golden Mug…?” he asked. He coughed up a good deal of blood.
“That was it,” the Marksman said thoughtfully. “Your breath smelled like rosemary, honey and citrus. I didn’t think much of it at the time.”
“So?”
“Those are some of the secret ingredients used in the Vapros Classic beer. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, but as you know, I have a very refined palate.” An idea struck him and he mused to himself. “The road between Abington and Shipwreck Bay is also near Altryon. It makes sense that they might have hidden there.”
Beaton tried to stand, but flopped back onto the floor. “You’re going after the Vapros?”
“Yes,” he said casually, reloading his favorite rifle, “I’m not the only one hunting, but I’ve got something the other assassins don’t.”
“What’s that?” Beaton coughed.
The Marksman pointed his rifle and fired it into the back of Beaton’s head. “None of the other assassins are Lightborns.”
Chapter Nine
THE GOLDEN MUG
LILLY CELERIUS
Lilly finished her last bit of cleaning and wandered off to the side of the restaurant to watch Rhys and Darius complete the rest of their chores. She curled a lock of her hair and focused her energy. She began to send it out in waves through her feet and soon had a clear look at the Golden Mug and its surroundings. In her mind she could feel Josephine settling upstairs. With further concentration, she deduced that Neil had retreated into the depths of the large attic. She began to feel the earth around the bar and she tensed; it was harder to extend over bare ground. The Golden Mug was almost five miles away from the nearest village, so she couldn’t feel any other buildings. She stopped when she reached one of the large hills that loomed in the distance.
Her powers weren’t of much use right now, but they calmed her. Unlike the others, she found the world outside the walls abrasive. The Lightborns had always been told that people outside the walls were savages, and while that wasn’t exactly accurate, people weren’t civilized in the way that she was used to. They hardly ever ate with silverware, they rarely cleaned their bed sheets, and they didn’t bathe as often as they should have. The boys had taken to it immediately, but she needed more time. It didn’t help that she was naturally restless nowadays. All she could think about in her moments alone was killing Carlin Filus, the murderer of her brothers Anthony and Thomas. Sometimes the only way to feel at peace and in control was to use her powers to survey the surroundings.
“Lilly?” She heard Rhys’s voice and pulled her focus back to the pub.
Rhys and Darius lounged at one of the bar tables, eating a loaf of bread. “Yes?” she asked.
“Everything all right?” Rhys asked. “You looked to be in a trance of some sort.”
“Just observing the area.” She improved her posture and wandered over to the table.
“Well take a night off,” Darius said as he took a massive bite. “Rhys and I are discussing our siblings. We’d like you to weigh in, Miss.”
Her eyes narrowed when she heard her title. Darius had a way of saying it that made it sound pretentious and unneeded. “What about our siblings?”
“Just what they could do and everything,” Darius said. “I heard your brother Thomas could read minds.”
“That’s true,” she said and took a seat next to Rhys. “I do admit it was hard to be around him sometimes. He had a habit of making his findings known.”
Rhys said, “I never fought him, but I was careful to keep my distance. Strategically he was a nightmare.”
Before she could answer, the door to the kitchen opened, and Rebecca entered the room. “Hello,” she said, pulling up a chair.
“Where’s Neil?” Rhys asked as he tried to get a glance into the swinging kitchen door.
Rebecca visibly reddened. “He’s upset.”
Darius chuckled. “Let me guess, you tried to talk to him about his sweetheart?”
Rebecca let out a long breath. “That was not a good idea.”
“No it was not,” Rhys mused. “Maybe he just needs some sleep. I’ll check on him in a bit.”
Rebecca nodded silently. Her eyes slowly settled on Lilly. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Lilly smoothed her military coat. “Pardon?” she asked trying to keep her voice level.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” Lilly said cautiously. “Anyone who has told you otherwise is a liar.” She glanced around the table and realized Darius was a moment away from busting into laughter.
Rebecca’s head turned to Rhys. “Are you a ruthless womanizer?” she asked.
Rhys gave her a startled look and shook his head. “No, Rebecca. That trait never grew on me.”
Lilly cocked her head in confusion at Rebecca’s strange attitude. She wanted to respond to all of it, but Rebecca was ready with more questions. “Can you read?” Rebecca finally asked Darius.
Darius’s smile fell. “Yeah,” he said as he took another huge bite of bread. “Of course I can read.”
The others at the table shared nervous
glances. Rhys looked like he was about to say something, then decided better of it. Lilly opened her mouth to speak, but a loud crack of thunder interrupted her. A smile made its way around the table. The group had learned early on that storms outside the Industrial City were powerful and often lasted for quite a while. A storm in the middle of the night usually meant that the bar would be inaccessible to the nearest village; therefore, closed for business. “Maybe we’ll be able to spend a day downstairs,” Darius said hopefully.
Rebecca leaned on an elbow wistfully. “And then Josephine and I can get some real sleep for a change. It’s getting colder. Maybe we’ll get snow.”
“So Darius,” Lilly cooed with a suppressed smile. “What’s your favorite book?”
He shoved the remaining half of the loaf into his mouth. He made a grumble that sounded sort of like the words, “I don’t know.”
Rebecca gave Lilly a nervous look. Darius scared her. If he even threw a little bit of a temper tantrum she would need to find a new place of employment. Lilly responded with a wink. Nothing scared Lilly. Except for heights apparently. “Well then, what was the last book you read?”
Darius chewed. “You get mad at me when I try to talk with my mouth full.”
“Rhys, hand me your little strategy book,” she demanded.
Rhys sighed and pulled a tiny notebook from his pocket. “I don’t condone this.” Underneath his façade, his eyes alit with curiosity.
He handed the tiny notebook to Darius, who palmed it in his massive hands. It was a wonder if he’d even be able to turn the pages. “You want me to…?”
“Read something.” Lilly said.
“No problem, Miss.”
Suddenly, the door from the kitchen was thrown open and Neil arrived with a skip in his step. He seemed to have recovered quickly. “What’s going on?” he asked and surveyed the table.
Rebecca motioned subtly with her head toward Darius who was desperately looking at Neil for help. “Tell me this is what I think it is,” Neil snickered.
Darius’s needful expression turned to one of exasperation. “You pests want to see me read?” he shouted. “Then you’re gonna see me read.”
He flipped a few pages and found one he liked. “Billy had a little job/ That kept him clothed and fed/ The Emperor had him fired/ So his friend could work, instead. / So Billy got some paper/ And a letter he did write. / And he took it to the Palace - / (Billy’s head is on a spike.)”
The group stared at Darius who looked mighty pleased with himself. “What was that?” Rebecca asked.
“Did you seriously just quote Little Billy?” Neil said on the verge of uproarious laughter.
“What’s Little Billy?” Rebecca asked.
“Little Billy was a propaganda campaign that was launched about thirty years ago. Every new parent in Altryon was given a book called Little Billy’s Nursery Rhymes. It was a cultural phenomenon for a while,” Rhys said. “But it was essentially just a list of precautions. Family members don’t really partake in reading it, as the nursery rhymes are mainly used to disparage the families.”
Darius shrugged. “Well there you have it. I have the ability to read. Let’s move on. Have you heard that the Vapros eat children?”
“Not so fast,” Lilly said. “You expect me to believe that Rhys Vapros, of all people, has written a piece of the Emperor’s propaganda in his precious strategy book?”
Rhys put out his hand and Darius returned his book. “I’m fascinated by the idea of propaganda. Especially Little Billy, because they were making a mental impression on every child to respect the empire or not to trust the families or to fear what was outside the wall.”
“This wasn’t as funny as I’d hoped,” Neil said. “Did we ever find out if Lilly is afraid of heights?”
“No,” said Lilly.
“Yes!” said everyone else.
Within a few hours the storm had become violent enough to warrant a day outside of the attic. Rhys and Neil went to check on the production of the newest batch of ale and Rebecca tagged along to watch them. With Josephine sleeping, Darius and Lilly were left in the atrium with only the entertainment of each other’s company.
“You know,” Lilly said delicately as she approached the bar, “no one learns to read on their own. The Celerius family has always had a tradition of teaching letters and literature well past common proficiency.”
Darius glared at her. He and Lilly got along fine, but this was the kind of stuff he hated. She didn’t even realize she was being condescending. “That’s real fascinating, Miss.” Darius rubbed his temples. “Now if only they could teach you to manage your fear of heights.”
She just about hissed at him. “I was trying to be nice, Darius. Maybe you should just realize that people could actually…” she trailed off.
“Finish their sentences?” Darius offered.
“Someone’s coming up to the door,” she whispered.
“In this storm?” Darius asked.
“Apparently.”
At that exact moment the door was thrown open and what looked to be five Imperial guards entered. They were dripping wet, yet appeared to be in high spirits. “Five ales, girly!” called the one in the front.
There was a palpable second of tension as the guards stopped laughing and examined Lilly’s coat. Then their eyes drifted to her face. She’d been foolish in protesting the haircut. Despite the trim, she still looked like a Celerius. They should have cut it all off. Darius thought. That auburn color was unmistakable.
His hand dropped behind the bar and palmed a metal mug. The guards looked at each other and their hands drifted to the hilts of their swords. The one in the front gulped audibly. “So… five drinks please.” A small drop of sweat slid down his face.
Lilly glanced back at Darius questioningly. “Are you really going to pretend that this isn’t about to become a bloodbath?” Darius asked the trembling guards.
The first guard stepped forward and tried to whisper under his breath, “Briggs, back to the outpost. Go get reinforcements.”
A guard in the back bolted through the door into the rain. The guard in front tried to take a commanding stance. “In the name of the Emperor you two are both--“
Darius heard enough. He sent the metal mug straight into the guard’s face. He fell to the ground, bleeding from his head. “Get the runner!” Darius called. He leapt over the bar and in front of the remaining three men.
Lilly bolted past the men. One tried to stop her, but she expertly ducked under his hands and off into the rain. Darius used the distraction to charge them. By lashing his arms out in a wide arc, as he tackled them, he was able to send the guards flying. He selected a nearby chair from a table and smashed it over the back of one guard who attempted to stand. He peered out into the rainy landscape for a moment. “I’ll just wait here,” he murmured.
Lilly wiped her hand over her eyes to clear them from the pouring rain. She anxiously turned, looking for the missing guard. If he made it back to the outpost, the entire Imperial military would soon be brought down upon them. She let her senses widen and absorbed the landscape. She could feel him riding the convoy less than a mile down the road toward Shipwreck Bay. He was probably trying to throw her off by taking a trail that didn’t go to Abington, where the nearest outpost was located. She let her senses narrow and was bolting after the guard along the trail. It was a common topic of debate in Altryon. What was faster: a Celerius or a racehorse? The debate usually always ended the same way, with a chuckle and the affirmation that it would depend on the horse and the Celerius in question. When it came to Lilly and these horses, there was no question that Lilly was the faster party, mostly because she didn’t have an Imperial convoy to pull.
Within a minute she could see the carriage in the distance. She silently cursed herself for leaving her sword back at the Golden Mug. She would have to fight this one with her bare hands. With her chest heaving and feet bleeding in her boots, she gripped the back end of the convoy. In an attempt to pull
herself into the open back, she stumbled. The convoy dragged her through the mud and tore the skin from her knees. She cried out.
Lilly cursed herself once again as she pulled her bloody body into the open end of the convoy and felt her skin re-stitching together. After a moment of rest, she looked around for a weapon to kill the guard. All she found were two pikes and a broadsword. Neither of them were suitable for her level of strength. Any thinner swords were apparently already in use. After a bit more rummaging, she found a small dagger and set out to finish her mission. She pulled herself up to the roof of the convoy with a grunt. Suddenly, she felt an Imperial boot kick her to the brink of consciousness. Apparently the guard had heard her scream earlier. He swung his sword at her and it nicked the side of her face. She rolled to the edge of the convoy. The guard swung down hard on the place where she had been a moment before. “I served your brother!” he cried over the sound of the pouring rain and hoof beats. “I mourn his death. But I know my duty.”
She recognized the man. Briggs had been one of Anthony’s close friends, long ago, and she remembered that her brother used to speak of his swordsmanship highly. He was quick, sure, but he was no match for her speed. Lilly stabbed the dagger into his foot, effectively pinning him to the roof of the convoy. He howled in pain and thrust his sword at her. She summersaulted out of the way and bolted to the front of the carriage. “Don’t waste your pity on my family. I have none to give in return.”
She jumped down to the platform where the reins dangled unattended. She grabbed them and tried to calm the horses. Suddenly she felt cold steel open her back and dropped to the platform in horrendous pain. The guard stood above her with a bloody sword and a murderous look in his eyes. His next few attempts to stab her were awkward and weak, as she was on the platform below and slightly out of reach. Her back was healing slowly. This was a deep cut.
