The Agent

by Brock E. Deskins

  Edmund watched the blood blossom around the neat hole in the boy’s chest and nodded. “All right, Holt, but you know I can get to you if I have to. Don’t ever come around my territory. If I need you, I will contact you.”

  Edmund motioned to his men. One of them dropped Garran’s weapons on the floor, and they all departed through the secret door, pushing Adam ahead of them.

  ***

  Scores of ships sailed less than a mile from Leva’s coast as the flotilla passed near the capital’s harbor. Colorful flags waved, large kites danced in the sky from atop their masts, and bands all played the same tune in perfect harmony upon the decks. Thousands lined the beach and crowded the docks to watch the annual spectacle unfold.

  Once the maritime procession completed its display, the flotilla tacked away from shore and out into open water beyond sight of any casual observations. Lookouts reported a dozen scouting vessels anchoring a mile off Leva’s coast, taking up their stations the moment the Artemisian ships sailed away.

  There would be no getting close to the capital for the army packed into their holds to disembark, but the amphibious assault did not require the ships to enter the harbor. As dusk fell, two thousand Hillmen, buoyed by slabs of cork sewn into their clothing or crafted into floatation aids, slipped over the decks and into the water to begin the arduous three-mile swim.

  ***

  Chained to a dungeon wall, Adam had little concept of the passing time. His best guess was that he had been taken somewhere between one and three days ago. The lack of light and food was only part of the problem he had marking the time. The other part being that he simply no longer cared.

  The only thing more heartbreaking than Garran’s betrayal was watching him kill Liam. He had thought he could save his young cousin; rescue him from hiding despite Liam’s protests, but he had gotten him killed in the end. He wanted to blame Garran for that too, but he knew in his heart that it was his fault. It was his fault for breaking his cover, and it was his fault for trusting Garran. Garran was right. He was just a naïve fool whose ideas of basic decency and trust had been his downfall.

  Adam looked up at the sound of keys rattling and the lock on his door snapping open. Two guards stepped into the room followed by Gordon.

  “Hello, brother,” Gordon greeted cheerfully. “I apologize for not visiting more often, but being king leaves me so little time to myself.”

  “You are no brother of mine!”

  “I understand your discomfiture, but I am sure your attitude toward me will soften after being reunited with your sister, my wife, after a time.”

  “Evelyn,” Adam breathed. “Where is she?”

  “She is comfortable and perfectly safe, as you shall be once we take care of one last bit of business. Then I shall reunite you two. She is very anxious to see you.”

  “What sort of business?”

  “As we all know, you cannot wear the crown. However, that does not preclude your children from being eligible for succession, so we must take measures to prevent that possibility.”

  “I do not have any children.”

  “But you could father some.”

  “I won’t. I have taken vows.”

  “And I absolutely believe you, but there are those who are less inclined to accept the word of even a holy man such as yourself, so more…irrefutable measures must be taken.”

  “What do you mean? What measures?”

  Gordon ignored Adam’s questions and motioned for the guards to unchain him. The soldiers left on the manacles binding his wrists and marched him down the dank hall behind their monarch. They reached another room that looked like just another prison cell except with a table sporting leather straps to secure people in place.

  The men strapped Adam to the table and stripped off his thin covering of undergarments. A bearded man wearing physic’s garb stood near a smaller table with an assortment of surgical tools laid out on a towel.

  “I would stay, but truth be told, I am a bit squeamish at the sight of blood. I look forward to your speedy recovery so we might all enjoy a nice family dinner together.”

  Adam watched Gordon leave. His eyes flashed from the now empty doorway to the physic as he stepped close to the table, a surgical knife gleaming in his hand. Adam pulled against his restraints but to no avail.

  “Hold him, you dolts!” the physic demanded.

  The two guards stepped up to the table and grasped Adam’s arms and legs. The physic raised his razor-sharp instrument once more. The blade flashed impossibly swift, and in two lightning-fast strokes, both guards lay on the floor trying to stem the blood flowing from their severed throats.

  The physic peeled off the beard covering of his face and removed the tight bonnet on his head. “Hey there, Pickle Tits,” Garran said with a mischievous grin.

  Adam fought off his momentary shock. “Garran? Let me up so I can kill you, you filthy bastard!”

  “Whoa, what is this? That’s hardly any way to greet the man who just saved you from getting your berries harvested.”

  “You murdered Liam!”

  “What? No I didn’t.”

  “Yes you did! I watched you stab him in the heart!”

  “You mean like this?”

  Garran stabbed Adam in the chest with the surgical knife. The Prince gasped at the pain and sight of the blade plunging into his chest. Garran held up the knife, the handle hidden behind his forearm and the last inch of the tip clamped between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Ouch! That damn well hurt!” Adam cried as he looked at the blood seeping from the superficial wound. “So you didn’t kill him?”

  “Of course not. Truth be told, I’ve actually grown rather fond of the little bugger. He reminds me a lot of me at that age.”

  “You’re still an ass for making me think you killed him. What possessed you to risk both our lives on this idiotic scheme?”

  “I had to face reality. I am great at what I do. You suck at what I do. Getting us both into the palace was going to be difficult, and when Edmund and his crew caught me—”

  “In a whorehouse or tavern?” Adam interrupted.

  “That isn’t important!”

  “So…whorehouse.”

  “They caught me, and that’s when I got the idea of how to get you in without trouble as well as pay off a considerable debt to some very unpleasant people. It’s called turning lemons into lemonade.”

  “It’s called a colossal dick move and it only existed because of your continued selfish debauchery.”

  “It’s called shut up and stop criticizing the person who just rescued you—again!”

  “You’re the one—!” Adam bit off his futile protests. “Get me off this damn table.”

  Garran moved the knife toward Adam’s nether region. “Not just yet. Now, how you want it, clean shaven or just a bit off the top and sides?”

  “You better let me up before I take a little off your top and sides!”

  “Okay, just my initials then.”

  “Garran!”

  ***

  “You are unbelievable!” Adam groused as they skulked down the hall. “It itches like crazy!”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t have any shaving soap. It wouldn’t have been so bad if you had just held still.”

  “How am I supposed to hold still when you’re using a knife to…trim my hedge?”

  “All the more reason to hold still. Now the G looks like a Q and just looks stupid.”

  “Now it looks stupid, as if having a letter on my body wasn’t beyond ridiculous.”

  “At least it would be legible.”

  “Ass. Now what?”

  “We wait for the signal.”

  “What signal?”

  Bells rang, horns blew, and people began shouting an alarm. Within seconds, the sound of booted feet and rattling weapons and armor filled the halls as soldiers raced to their posts.

  “That signal. Our Hillman friends should be converging on the palace. With everyone distracted, this will b
e the best time to get to your sister and sneak her out before anyone realizes she’s gone. Once our army seizes the city, you and Evelyn emerge and take control.”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  “It is simple. All we have to do is not die in the process.”

  ***

  “What is happening?” Gordon demanded, his shrill cry cutting through the din of shouting men and clanging bells.

  “A large force, the Hillman raiders from the sound of it, swept through the docks and are approaching the palace,” Gregor explained with measured calm.

  “How? Where did they come from? I thought our soldiers destroyed them!”

  “Apparently, such was not the case.”

  “What do we do?” Gordon asked, his voice rising in panic.

  “We stay calm. We have a sizable standing guard force and strong walls. Along with the constabulary and reserve army, we should be able to hold off a siege long enough for reinforcements to arrive.”

  “That’s right! The mercenaries should be just a few days march from here!”

  “You are assuming they have not betrayed us.”

  Gordon’s face went slack. “Have they?”

  “I do not know, Gordon, but they obviously failed to destroy the Hillmen as their reports suggested. Perhaps the barbarians managed to slip away at the last moment, but that seems unlikely.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We stop standing around simpering and fight. The Guild has a small private army and can raise a larger one on short notice. All we have to do is hold out until they arrive. If Garran thinks to topple us with a quick shove, he is very much mistaken.”

  Gordon bobbed his head. “What should I do?”

  “Take some men and see to your wife. We would not want anything to happen to her in the confusion.”

  Gordon looked to his guards. “You three, follow me.”

  ***

  With nearly the entire palace guard rushing to the walls and outer doors, only the servant staff roamed the halls in search of loved ones or a place to hide. No one paid any heed to the two intruders as they strode confidently down the corridors.

  “Crap!” Garran exclaimed and shoved Adam down a side passage.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just saw Gregor, and I think he spotted us.”

  “What do we do?”

  Garran swallowed and took a quick look around. “Keep going, find your sister, and get out. I’ll try to lead Gregor away.”

  “Garran, if he catches you…”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I lied when I said I didn’t need you anymore. Once you get Evelyn away and our people take the capital, I’m the one who is no longer needed. It’s up to you and Evelyn to gain control and destroy The Guild once and for all. You have to lead the people to rise up against their oppressors. I cannot do that, and that is what this is all about.”

  Adam shook his head. “Even now, through all of this, I still do not get you.”

  “Yeah, ain’t it awesome? Here, take one of my knives. Maybe you can stab someone when they aren’t looking. I’ll make sure Gregor sees me and lead him away.” Garran grabbed Adam by the elbow before he could leave. “By the way, the baby isn’t Gordon’s. I thought you should know just in case you were thinking about pushing her down the stairs.”

  “I wouldn’t…Why would you think I would even consider doing something like that?”

  “It’s all about options. Never mind. Just go.”

  Adam turned down another corridor as Garran ran to the end of the hall and waited for Gregor to appear. He allowed the senior agent to catch sight of him before rounding the next corner.

  Seeing Garran slip away, Gregor lengthened his stride, unsure if he trusted his eyes or if he was chasing a phantom conjured up by his mind. Every time he rounded a corner, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the young man who had managed to turn a simple coup into a colossal pain in the ass. If he truly was chasing Garran through the palace halls, then this was his big gambit. This night would ultimately declare the winner of their months-long game of cat and mouse.

  He turned a corner and found himself alone in an empty hall. The sound of breaking glass issued through the throne room doors. Gregor drew his sword and held it at the ready as he pushed open one of the doors and stepped through. Garran stood next to a liquor cabinet, taking a deep swig from a bottle before casting it away where it shattered near the foot of the dais. A graveyard of broken bottles lay in front of the steps, their contents soaking the thick carpet.

  “Seems like a waste of good booze,” Gregor said as he casually strode into the room.

  Garran took another long pull, read the label, and shrugged before tossing it away. “I’ve pissed in better.”

  Gregor shook his head and chuckled. “You do like to stick it to authority.”

  “Amongst other things. Too bad you never married.”

  “It’s almost a shame I have to kill you.”

  “You don’t. Take your ill-gotten gains and leave. Go retire somewhere quiet and never show your face in Anatolia again. I won’t stop you, and I won’t come looking.”

  “Sorry, but I just can’t do that.”

  “It’s too bad you didn’t show this much dedication to Remiel,” Garran said as he drew his reaping blades and sauntered down the dais steps.

  It was the first thrust of their fight, and it struck home. Gregor shook off the verbal strike and readied his sword. “I think we both know you aren’t ready to face me.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. You are getting pretty long in the tooth these days.”

  “Weapons play is like sex, experience trumps youth every time.”

  “That’s assuming one still has the strength to swing his sword.”

  There was only a moment of positioning before both men transcended. Garran knew he faced a superior foe and immediately took the offensive. His reaping blades nearly hummed with the power and speed of his swings as they cut through the air and rang out when Gregor parried.

  Garran knew his best hope lie in fatiguing Gregor quickly and delivering a telling blow when he faltered, but that event looked unlikely to come, the odds shifting against Garran with every swing that failed to connect.

  Where Victor had fought with furious zeal and overwhelming power, Gregor moved with the practiced, flawless perfection of a true sword master. His swings, thrusts, and parries looked almost lackadaisical, but his sword was always there to block an attack, his body never failing to shift away to give Garran’s blade a hair’s breadth of room to pass harmlessly by.

  Within minutes, Garran felt the toll wrought on his body by his furious assault while Gregor’s breathing was steady and controlled and had barely broken a sweat. Sensing Garran’s flagging strength, Gregor pressed the attack and drove him back across the room.

  Garran bled from half a dozen wounds of varying depths while Gregor displayed only a single cut to his thigh. While none was lethal or even severe, the slow but constant blood loss took its toll. Knowing that he had lost whatever edge he might have possessed, Garran executed a risky gambit, one that had paid off against Victor, and he hoped it would do so with Gregor.

  Garran waited for Gregor’s thrust, parried it, and spun behind him while slashing at his exposed side and back. His left reaping blade scored a solid hit on Gregor’s side. Continuing his pirouette, his right weapon dove for the agent’s back to deliver a mortal blow.

  Gregor did not attempt to mimic or follow Garran’s twirl. He turned his side toward Garran, accepted the deep cut, and thrust out, taking advantage of his sword’s greater reach. Garran’s reaping blade hissed past, snagging a wrinkle in his leather coat. His sword whisked over the top of Garran’s seeking reach and plunged into his chest just to the right of his sternum.

  Garran staggered backward toward the dais, dropped his weapons, and collapsed against the steps. “Bloody hell.”

  Gregor approached, ready to finish the fight, but Garran held up a staying hand. “
Wait!” He coughed out a wad of blood as he fished inside his coat pocket for a tobacco twist. “Allow me a final smoke and a drink before you finish me.” Gregor balked, wondering what sort of trick Garran was playing. “Come on, we both know I’m already dead.”

  Gregor sighed and retrieved one of the few remaining bottles from Gordon’s liquor cabinet. His feet squelched on the alcohol-soaked carpet as he handed his former protégé the whiskey. Garran accepted the bottle with a smile and took a long pull. He clamped the tobacco twist between his blood-flecked lips and lit it with a sulfur stick.

  Garran smiled, sighed, and coughed as he took a long drag from the opium and rapture root-laced twist. He looked at the puff of smoke that swirled out of the hole in his chest and laughed.

  “I really am a goddam mess.”

  “I can’t think of a single person in this world who would argue with that. I don’t suppose you’ll save me some trouble and tell me what you did with Adam?” Garran raised his hand and gave him the finger. “I thought not. Contentious to the end. I really did have high hopes for you, Garran. I hate to have to do this.”

  Garran looked up as Gregor approached, his sword held to deliver a swift, fatal blow. “I’ve been looking forward to doing this for years.”

  Garran lit another sulfur stick, touched it to the wooden box containing a dozen more, and tossed it at Gregor’s feet. The alcohol-soaked carpet burst into flames and engulfed Gregor’s feet. The senior agent barked out a cry of surprise and danced backward to escape the fire. Garran shoved himself off the steps, staggered forward, and spit mouthful after mouthful of potent liquor at Gregor, spreading the flames up his legs until they engulfed his entire body.

  Gregor screamed and flailed about the room until Garran picked up one of his reaping blades from the floor and buried it in his head. Gregor collapsed in a flaming heap, his terrified cries instantly silenced.

  “That’s for Colin, you sonofabitch.”

  Spent, he staggered back to the dais, sank down against the steps, and let the booze and drugs take him away from his mortal pain.

  CHAPTER 39

  Adam stole down the hall, ducking into alcoves and empty rooms to avoid the occasional, terrified servant or palace courtier seeking a place of refuge from the impending siege. It took only a few minutes for him to reach his sister’s rooms, and he prayed she was inside. If Gordon or his soldiers had taken her away to hide her elsewhere in the palace, it could take hours to locate her.