by Robert Day
Hagar gave a non committal shrug, as if the question had been of no consequence. “I just thought you might have known something, that is all.”
He expected Kandar to stiffly refute any such knowledge, especially with the hint of insinuation Hagar had placed on ‘known’, but the spy merely shook his head.
“Me? I suspect they plan to shift the Princess to some other location.” If anything, Hagar expected Kandar was a Spy for the Duke, and if this were the case, he would surely be concerned for the welfare of the Daughter of the King. He eyed the spy askance as he spoke, but saw no signs of shock or interest on the man’s angular face.
“Why do you say this?”
Hagar shrugged again, but continued quickly. “For the Ashar’an to have need of the Princess, they must have some fear of her father, else why would they kidnap her?”
“Maybe they need her for something else?”
Surprised by Kandar’s offering, Hagar nonetheless gave another shrug, though his mind turned over several possibilities for Kandar’s response. What other need would these Ashar’an have for the Princess? “They could not hope to gain anything by having her killed.”
To this, Kandar shrugged. “Who knows what they think?” Yet for Hagar, responding to this was almost admitting knowledge, unless the spy was craftier than Hagar assumed. Whatever was being planned for the Princess, he knew then that it did not coincide with his own plans, something that he was determined to change. He had all but been assured the Princess was his, and would not let the Ashar’an witch Lotecia spoil his plans.
Not having to feign anger at the wait, Hagar excused himself amid frustrated cursing, returning quickly to his chambers, not even bothering to see how many Ashar’an were assigned to his tail this time. He took from this the hope there must have been some fear from them that he could do something detrimental to their plans. With this hope in mind, he began to formulate a new plan as he moved to the small chest at the foot of his bed.
The chest was locked and trapped with a poisoned needle plus a gas lined seal that would be broken through forced opening. Neither was deadly, rather incapacitating the victim, but for such a time that Hagar would return to find them thus, and therefore easily manipulated as only he could.
Within the chest, beneath clothes and weapon belts, a plain old cloth concealed a cube the size of his fist, secured by a leather cord. Untying the cord and removing the cloth, he let both drop onto the bed as he gaped once again in awe at the gem encrusted box. Grape sized diamonds and rubies mixed with others to form three concentric circles around the largest gem, a flat diamond as large as an eye. It caught the weakest of light from the shuttered windows and shone like the moon among stars.
Without having to open the box, Hagar pictured the ruby pyramid and the Mithril chain within as he lay down on the bed and rested the box atop his chest, watching the interplay of light across the faceted gems as he turned it to catch the faint light. In his mind, however, plans formed as he worked through several scenarios, all of which would see him once again with Kitara as his wife; Ashar’an be damned, plus any other who opposed him.
Four Kiroba waited behind Hagar, shadows in the darkness of the dim corridors of the palace. At a bend in the passage, pale light radiated from around the corner, though whatever reached the Kiroba dissipated against the dark clothing of the Assassins.
‘Two’, indicated Hagar, pulling back from lying prone so he could peer around the corner. Similarly dressed all in black, he was all but invisible. The veil that covered his face left enough room for sight, the skin darkened with black paste to deflect light. He wore thin framed glasses, the lenses also dark, though from where he looked, he could see as clearly as in daylight, even in the pitch of the darkest night. They also let him see what he needed to see where the Ashar’an were involved.
“One is shielded, the other monitors the light. Both appear lackadaisical, but we mustn’t underestimate them. Ardell, do you have the glitter sphere?”
The Kiroba he spoke to held up a gloved hand, in which rested a crystalline sphere the size of a hen’s egg. Within its interior there swirled a mass of sparkling lights, as one might see if staring at the sky at night and spinning on the spot.
“Your man is the far one. I will take the left. You others, be wary for others, and remember our backup plan if things go wrong. Dying here will not help me in the long run, so no bravado. These people can kill you without being near you, and with no weapons. Ready?”
There was a pause as the five positioned themselves. Ardell, the Kiroba with the glitter sphere, positioned himself above Hagar who once again lay so he could peer around the corner near the floor. This time, he produced a dark tube, less than the width of his hand across, but with a twist and pull, it elongated into a blowgun a foot long, the poisoned dart already set. He aimed at the left most figure, the one not magically shielded, and as he drew in breath to fire, Ardell threw.
Unerringly, both dart and globe struck. Not meant to kill but to paralyze, the dart struck the Ashar’an in the neck. A poison of the most powerful kind, a reflexive twitch of the arm and a slight turn of the head was all the Ashar’an could do before the poison took effect, body locked in place so as not to make him slump.
Simultaneously, the glitter globe smashed at the feet of the second Kiroba. Soundless in flight, the tinkling cracking of the fragile shell was barely audible as a blinding coruscation of sparks and light filled the passage. It lasted for only a moment, but it was so fast the optical reflexes of the Ashar’an were not quick enough to blink in defense. As such, pain shot through the man’s nerves, straight to his brain as he reeled in shock. Not even the most trained mind could retain logical thought during such a barrage, so the shield he had to concentrate on shattered as easily as the glitter sphere, allowing a second dart from Hagar to strike home. Shielded from the magical light by the glasses, Hagar watched as the Kiroba collapsed, fortunately with no more than a soft thud, as darkness reclaimed the passage.
A tense moment passed, watching and waiting to see if anybody had been alerted by the sudden light or noise. Being just past midnight, fortunately there was no response, allowing Hagar to sigh with relief as he rose and crept down the corridor.
Kiroba secured both of the Ashar’an as Hagar waited at the doorway between the two, the object of his desire beyond. One of the Ashar’an had a key, which he took and used silently, seeing there was no magical aura from the doorway, indicating it was safe.
The room beyond was like most of the bed chambers, large and sectioned with heavy partitions. Scarcely furnished, the sleeping area was easily spotted. Entering, the Ashar’an were dragged inside and the door closed behind them.
“Get the Princess.” Two Kiroba did this as the other two watched over the Ashar’an. Even bound, gagged and drugged, there was no telling what the two were capable of.
Held by two Kiroba in the pitch darkness was not an ideal method of being wakened, so one of the Kiroba used a cloth soaked in a special potion, which when inhaled, induced sleep almost instantly. It was a common method of kidnapping or slipping past sentries.
By the time the two Kiroba returned with the Princess, carried between them with her bare feet sliding across the cold marble floor, Hagar had the Pyramid Portal held as he waited inside the small circle created by the Mithril chain. To his eyes, augmented by the magical glasses, both devices glowed with a soft dweomer, making them easily visible against the dark floor.
Six standing figures, or five standing with one propped up, seemed too much to fit inside the circle, but by some magic, with all inside, the circle surrounded them all with a hands span to spare. From experience, Hagar knew as many as twenty Kiroba could be transported within the circle.
A moment of flashing darkness turned to a grey screen as Hagar manipulated the tip of the pyramid, the upper piece twisting easily in his strong fingers. There came a moment of coldness, intense but fleeting so it had little effect on the body, other than chilled skin and several m
oments of rasped breathing. Darkness overtook the grayness Hagar had been told was an in between realm, where movement was instantaneous through magic, and with barely three heartbeats passed, vision returned as the group materialized into a lantern lit room.
Kitara woke from the drug assisted sleep, finding herself in the unfamiliar situation of being surrounded by dark clothed men in a strange room. She could sense something of what was going on, being surrounded by Kiroba, and wondered where she was and why she was there.
Hagar smiled as the Kiroba spread out, a tenseness lifting from them at the sight of the familiar room belonging to Hagar. Set deep within the UnderCastle, beneath the city of Sha’kar, here Hagar was as King, deferring to only one figure: Zhak Lomar, Sorcerer and founder of Gladius, the sport of Combat popular among many members of the community, both nefarious and upstanding. So much so that the Lord of Sha’kar turned a blind eye on the barbaric game as long as he kept getting his share of the profits. Quite a lucrative betting syndicate had been erected when it was seen how popular the ‘sport’ was, and Zhak Lomar was reported as being one of the wealthiest men in Dak’mar, if not Kil'Tar.
“Take the Princess to my chambers.” Hagar bent to pick up the Mithril chain, knowing the one at Cartyl would dissipate over time, a marvel of the pyramid. One of the limitations of the pyramid was that it could not be used to go to any place at all, instead used to return to one place from wherever you are. As such, his base location was his private study at Sha’kar.
Kitara recognized the voice of Hagar and grew suddenly afraid, wondering again what was going on, but for some reason, she could not speak and her head was still spinning.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, my friend!” Well perhaps not so private. The room’s only door opened as guards filed in, while off to the side, a figure stepped from what appeared to be a glowing vertical rip in the air.
Dressed in frilled scarlet robes stitched with black and belted with silver, Zhak Lomar looked every bit ready to attend court, though it was before sunrise here in Dak’mar. His beard was trimmed to a fine point, while his raven dark hair ended at his neck, flat and slicked with aromatic oil. One ear was heavily studded with gem encrusted and gold earrings, as were both his hands adorned with rings of varying size and shape. He carried a slender staff of a dark wood, its surface seemingly covered in a silvery web of patterns.
But it was his eyes that made Kitara’s skin crawl. Large and unblinking they were, but a pale grey so as to look almost translucent. There was no emotion or depth to them, and they reminded her of a wolf’s eyes.
The others who filed in by more conventional means were dressed as the Kiroba of Hagar’s, except rather than wear cowls, they wore painted masks covering the top half of their faces. None carried a weapon in their hands, nor were any visible, but more so than other Kiroba, they looked as if they needed none.
“What is this, Lomar?” asked Hagar, his face set in humored surprise. His four Kiroba moved to surround him quickly, facing the circling masked Kiroba, thrusting Kitara behind them. The tension in the room grew quickly, each Kiroba tensed and ready, while Hagar continued to regard the Sorcerer incredulously.
“You surprise me, Hagar.” The Sorcerer shifted with the whisking of fine silk robes to regard the Assassin with a furrowed brow, using a table to lean against. “You knew what our plans involved from the beginning, yet now you rebel. Can it be the Lord of the Underworld, Master of the Kiroba and Prince of Sha’kar, has fallen for his victim?” With a lamentable sigh and shake of the head, the Sorcerer turned his gaze to Kitara, who was feeling more like the pawn in some greater game at the moment, like an insect caught in a breeze and finding it was being swept to places it did not know and could not control. She drew back from the Sorcerer’s mocking stare, but could feel it on her still as she looked away.
“She is mine!” spat Hagar protectively, face dark with rage. “That was the promise, to do with as I wished, remember? Your words, not mine. Then I find she was to be used for other purposes. Why is that, can you tell?”
With a rueful smile, Zhak Lomar lifted from his recline, this time without so much as a whisper of his robes. His eyes were wider, intense and focused, though he appeared as outwardly calm as ever. “Plans change, Prince Hagar. This you should well know, and expect. Did you really think the Princess would be yours to do with as you would? What did you think, that you would marry her?” He gave a laugh then, deep but without humor, knowing full well his assumption was close to the mark, if not exact. “You are no more a puppet than she is.”
With a strangled cry, Hagar sprang at the Sorcerer, but even the battle trained reflexes of the Assassin could not get him to the Sorcerer, who with the slightest of action raised his staff, bringing it up before him in what appeared to be a defensive action, but there was no urgency to his movement. To Kitara and the Kiroba, Hagar appeared merely to freeze in mid step, arms outstretched with a gleaming blade held in both hands, but for Hagar who had the ability to see the magic aura around the Sorcerer with the aid of the glasses, could see the essence of the bonds which held him tighter than the strongest bonds crafted of steel. He might as well have been buried in sand up to the shoulders, for all that was free was his head, allowing him to at least continue a verbal assault.
“This is madness, Lomar. You dare to insinuate the assembly did not make their intentions clear at the outset of the mission? If your motives are ulterior to theirs, all of your power here in Sha’kar will not save you from their wrath. Desist now, and we can forget this idiocy.”
“Oh, poor Hagar. If only you were as intelligent as you thought you were. My dear boy, I am acting on the behest of the assembly, as you may have deduced had you thought about it previously. Things are happening here your barbaric mind cannot even begin to comprehend. You came here hoping to save your Princess from her fate in Cartyl, but rest assured she will be given as sacrifice to the Lord of the Dread still.” Another rueful sigh was mocking in the extreme as he continued. “Perhaps you will use that to motivate you in the Gladius.”
Hagar’s howl was one of pure hatred and rage then, and even Kitara felt a moment of passing pity for the assassin. He had intended to help her, even if it were of his own agenda, but any pity passed with a sudden image of Llewellyn lying dead in Valdieron’s arms. Whatever the words of Zhak Lomar portended for Hagar, she hoped they were twice as bad as the assassin seemed to believe they would be.
“The rest of you can fight or declare you new allegiance to me,” stated the Sorcerer, arrogantly turning from Hagar to the four Kiroba who were nervously trying to watch their screaming master and the masked figures surrounding them. Obviously, whatever sense of pride or allegiance they felt was not great as they threw down their weapons and knelt.
“We live but to serve our new master,” declared one, taking it upon himself to speak for the three others.
The Sorcerer appeared to ponder their change of heart briefly before making a brief nod intended for his masked Kiroba, who stepped forward with what looked to be the intent of taking up the discarded weapons, but as they neared, each snapped forward towards a prone Kiroba. Knives came to hand, like a festival magician using sleight of hand to make coins appear from out of nowhere. The four kneeling Kiroba were both surprised and caught off guard by the attack, and none of the four so much as managed a parry before weapons closed on vitals, howls of pain and outrage turning to death cries. One cry outlasted them all, and Kitara recognized it as Hagar’s as she snapped out of a stunned shock, as the masked Kiroba withdrew. The assassin leader had tears streaking his face and pain obviously etched in his eyes at the sight of his men being slaughtered, but any further outrage he felt was cut off as the Sorcerer magically gagged him.
“Such tenuous allegiances I cannot allow among my ranks, I fear.” Zhak Lomar shrugged, turning from Hagar to Kitara, whose horror filled eyes regarded the Sorcerer like a monstrosity. Witnessing such an act was both stunning and confronting, especially as it gave her an
indication as to what sort of predicament Hagar had led her into.
“Come, Princess. It seems things have not started off well between us. Let us talk and dine together.” When Kitara did not answer or flinch, he gave a mocking bow. “But of course, you would like to clean up first, am I right? My men will escort you to my apartments where you will be staying for but a short period, I fear, so do not get comfortable.” With another bow, this one flourishing, he spun as his Kiroba moved to Kitara. “I am not as bad as you think I am, Princess, as you may find out in time. Until this evening!”
Whatever magic held Hagar remained as the Kiroba escorted Kitara from the room, but the last glimpse Kitara got of the assassin, she recognized the look of a trapped animal, knowing it was only a matter of time before the hunter came to end its existence. Wondering what this ‘Gladius’ was that the Sorcerer mentioned. If somebody like Hagar could expect death there, she imagined whatever macabre images she conjured probably paled in comparison.
Thoughts of death turned her to her own predicament, however, as the Sorcerer words, ‘sacrifice to the Lord of the Dread’, filled her heart with icy terror.
Chapter 23
Andrak found it hard to fight back tears as he stood at the edge of the great Glade of Lloreander. Around him, the Elf city was a hive of activity as everybody carried out his or her orders to prepare for evacuation of the city.
But it was the mass at the center of the glade that brought the tears to Andrak’s eyes. There, seven hundred and fifty Elvin warriors and fifty Sylvan Druids were gathered on the command of Solantholas himself, who stood at the center of the gathering. These would carry out the attack on the Demons, seeking to destroy them and then obliterate the Portal the Demons used to pass from the Voids to Kil’Tar.
