by Hans Bezdek
Calina apparently didn’t like being called that. Pulling her other wand from her waist, she thrusted it point blank at the assassin’s face. Chaos’ eyes widened and his grin slipped away as the tip of the item glowed silver.
Grayson looked up in time to see a thin web-like material shoot out of the stick and immediately wrap itself around Chaos’ face. The assassin let out a muffled cry as he stumbled backward, pulling uselessly at it with his hands.
“Finish him off!” shouted Grayson.
“N-No!” said Calina, turning back to the elf. She looked frightened and angry. “I’m not a killer like you!”
Grayson got to his feet with a grumble and ran at the distracted assassin. He shifted his handle on the dagger and thrusted it out as he reached Chaos, stabbing his blade into the assassin’ shoulder.
The blinded Chaos let out a muffled shout of pain, punching out blindly and catching Grayson clean across the chin. The elf saw stars and felt his legs get wobbly, but managed to keep on his feet and hold onto his dagger. Chaos took the time to cut at the webbing on his face, finally getting free and chucking the excess away.
Calina thrusted the stick forward and again shot a web at the assassin’s face, but Chaos wasn’t having any more of it. In one quick motion, the assassin ducked underneath the string, kicked Grayson’s legs out from under him, then cut up with both of his daggers at the middle of Calina’s wand. Grayson fell onto his back with a grunt as the stick snapped in half.
“Uh oh,” said Calina, raising the useless half-stick up. Chaos backhanded her before she could do anything, sending her a few feet behind Grayson and to the floor.
The elf tried to get up, but the assassin pounced on him. Grayson held his dagger up and blocked the first blade. Chaos made an annoyed sound as he let go of one dagger, using his now free hand to wrestle Grayson’s blade out of his hand. The elf was no match for the assassin’s strength, and Chaos chucked Grayson’s blade away once he got it free.
Chaos raised his remaining dagger high above him, grasped it with both hands, then slammed it down at Grayson’s face. The elf brought his hands up and pushed up at the assassin’s wrists, slowing but not completely stopping the dagger.
“Know that you died for nothing!” hissed Chaos, putting more and more strength behind the dagger.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” grunted Grayson, feeling his energy slip away and the dagger coming closer and closer to his eyes.
The door to the library creaked open. The distinct smell of fried pig quickly filled the room.
Chaos and Grayson snapped their heads in the direction of the door. Before Grayson could see who was there, he noticed the assassin stopped pushing down with his dagger. Using all of his remaining strength, he pushed Chaos up and kick him off. The elf rushed to his feet and backed away from the assassin and toward the shaken Calina, now risking a look to see who had come in.
Sten and Chloe stood in the door frame staring in shocked horror at the three of them.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” gulped Sten, a bacon sandwich in his hand. “Thought we’d be able to use this room for a quick snack break.”
Chapter 17
“I didn’t kill Demarcus,” said Anselm, doing his best to remain perfectly still.
He was in a bad spot. He had seen Olivia make quick work of her targets with her ice magic. Olivia’s free arm was keeping his left arm trapped, meaning if he was going to do anything to get out of this he’d need to use his fake arm. As was usually the case, the thing wasn’t budging.
“That’s not what his men think,” smiled Olivia wickedly.
“Like that matters,” said Anselm. He tried to keep his voice calm, but his heart was racing. “We both know the executors of Demarcus’ accounts will do a thorough inspection of his death to make sure they award the money to the right person. They’ll find out it wasn’t me.”
Olivia’s smile slipped a little but quickly recovered. “You and the loser elf friend of yours were the last ones seen in Demarcus’ office. They found his body, along with the top of a broken dagger. My money’s on it being one of yours.”
“Bad bet. The dagger isn’t mine.”
“Who’s is it, then?”
“Some guy named Chaos,” he shrugged. Olivia didn’t like the motion and held her ice hand a little closer to his neck. “He’s the one that made that hole in Demarcus’ office and accused us.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “I was wondering about that hole. It wasn’t there when I left… How did you make it? Are you toting bombs around, now?”
“No, too messy,” admitted Anselm.
“Then how? And how did you break his dagger?”
Anselm stared hard into Olivia’s eyes while he thought through his options. He could try and call for help. The room full of people would probably be useless, though. Grayson and Calina probably weren’t nearby, and even if Sten and Chloe were, they’d be just as useless as the partygoers. Another option was to try and fight, but given that Olivia had only moved the blade closer to his neck, he didn’t think he’d get the chance.
“I have my ways,” replied Anselm vaguely.
“Not good enough,” said Olivia firmly. “If you want to see tomorrow, you’ve got to answer my questions. If not, I’ll have to take my chances and hope that you’re lying to me about who killed Demarcus. Worst case, I’ve got one less assassin to worry about taking all of the good jobs.”
Anselm couldn’t argue with that logic. His mind raced for a few more seconds but nothing was coming to him. While he was sure there would be some negative outcomes from this, hopefully, they’d come on a different night.
“Another assassin took my arm,” admitted Anselm. “It was replaced with one that occasionally works and is pretty strong. Chaos broke his dagger on it and I punched him through the wall.”
Olivia’s eyes widened and she looked at his two arms, trying to figure out which one he had lost.
“It’s the right one,” sighed Anselm.
She grabbed it with hers and shook it slightly.
“No, my right one,” said Anselm, rolling his eyes.
“Oh,” said Olivia, blushing. Her ice dagger of a hand glowed again and shifted into a normal hand. She grabbed the fake wrist and picked it up. Pulling back the glove, the obsidian-like hand reflected the candlelight back up at her.
“I knew you were acting strange yesterday!” she gasped.
Anselm took the opportunity to take a few steps back and pulled the glove back up. “Believe me now?”
Olivia crossed her arms, careful not to spill her drink, and tilted her head to the side. “Enough to not kill you right this second. I suppose if the time comes it’ll be easy enough, now that you’re missing an arm.”
“You always know just what to say to make someone feel better about themselves.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift,” she grinned.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Looking for new clients,” she sighed, turning around and looking over the room. “You know these political types are occasionally willing to hire someone with our skill set to help them move up the ladder.”
“True, although It’s not as common as it used to be,” said Anselm, watching several men and women fake laugh at someone’s joke. “I don’t know any assassins that get contracts from this kind of clientele anymore.”
“That’s been my experience so far tonight,” she nodded, looking at everyone with disdain. “Anytime I drop hints about taking out someone’s competition, they excuse themselves from the conversation. It’s rude, really.”
“How dare they,” smirked Anselm. He suddenly remembered why he was there and wanted to get back to the Grand Duke. “It’s been interesting as always, but I really have to go.”
“Oh?” she asked. “Got a job?”
“Technically,” he said, too embarrassed to explain he was hired as a guard. That would’ve been even worse than telling her about his arm.
She looked like she want
ed to know, but realized she wouldn’t be getting any more out of him. Anselm was fine with that but realized he could use her help with something.
“How about we make a deal?” offered Anselm.
“With me?” she smirked. “Sure you can trust me?”
“It’s in your best interest, so I suppose I can this time,” reasoned Anselm. “I need someone to talk to Demarcus’ people and let them know I wasn’t the one who killed the ogre. It was an assassin named Chaos.”
“Why don’t you just do it?”
“Because they’ll kill me if they see me.”
“Ah. Right,” she nodded. “What’s in it for me?”
“I’ve got a couple of friends that should be capturing him as we speak. You do this for me, and we’ll give you a quarter of the bounty.”
“Hmm… I’m thinking all.”
“All?!” exclaimed Anselm. “But you aren’t in any danger, and we’re doing all the work!”
“But I have all the leverage,” she grinned. “You need me in order to live. Is your life not worth a hundred thousand gold pieces?”
She had a point. “Fine. You can keep it all.”
“Consider it done,” she smiled, gesturing with her glass.
The assassin walked back into the ballroom. It was at the peak of the party, and the room was packed. He made for the front doors to see if Chloe and Sten had noticed anyone suspicious coming in, and quickly found that they weren’t at their posts.
“Typical,” he muttered to himself.
A strong hand fell on his left shoulder and Anselm spun around, hand going for the dagger in the back of his belt.
Duke Cadmus took a nervous step back and held his hands up innocently. “Didn’t mean to scare you!”
“That’s quite alright,” said Anselm, letting go of his dagger’s hilt and relaxing. “Some of my guards aren’t where I told them to be, so you caught me at a bad time.”
“I can understand how that would be frustrating,” nodded Cadmus. He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “About that individual we were talking about earlier, the one who broke your arm? You mentioned he wore a mask. Was it an iron one? And he had a gauntlet, too?”
“Yes,” nodded Anselm. “Exactly.”
Cadmus’ face turned grave. “I was afraid of that… I believe I spotted him near the kitchen just a moment ago. I tried to warn the Grand Duke, but he refused to stop talking to one of the Barons near the back of the ballroom.”
Anselm felt his adrenaline rush through him again. Phantom was here. The man who took his arm had actually come to the Grand Duke’s party, just as Anselm had predicted!
“I’ve got to move the Grand Duke,” said Anselm, moving past Cadmus. “Thanks for the head’s up!”
“One more thing!” Cadmus said quickly, taking a few steps to follow Anselm. “I noticed his gauntlet was glowing blue. I believe I’ve seen something like that long ago, if I’m not mistaken. If he ends up using magic against you, the source of it might be the glove itself!”
Anselm paused for a brief second to consider it. Phantom had used magic, and it was only from his gauntlet. If they came face to face, maybe he’d be able to defeat the other assassin if he took it off. “You might be onto something. For now, get out of here before this place gets too dangerous!”
Anselm pushed through the crowd, getting several grunts and looks of displeasure. It wasn’t long before he found the Grand Duke talking with an old elf.
“Jaspar!” said Anselm, stepping between them. “We’ve got to go!”
“W-What’s going on?!” asked the elf.
“That’s Grand Duke Jaspar to you,” hissed Jaspar. “And how dare you interrupt my conversation with a Baron!”
“Phantom is in the building,” said Anselm, deciding he wasn’t going to put up with the Grand Duke any longer. “We’re heading to your safe room. Now.”
“No we are not!” said Jaspar, nearly pouting like an impudent child. “I am going to finish talk-”
Anselm grabbed the back of the Grand Duke’s tunic and dragged the man to the wall that led to the safe room. The man tried to put up a fight, but Anselm overpowered him with ease. When they reached the wall, Anselm threw him roughly against it.
“Get your key out and open the door,” ordered Anselm.
“Who do you think you are to order me ar-”
Anselm pulled out his dagger and held it up to the Grand Duke’s neck.
“Get your key out and open the door,” repeated Anselm.
The Grand Duke didn’t argue this time, frantically digging into his pocket and producing a key. He opened the door, and Anselm pushed them inside.
“My table!” cried Jaspar, immediately noticing the moved furniture.
“This is the worse safe room I’ve ever seen,” said Anselm, closing the door behind them and gesturing for the Grand Duke to take a seat by the blocked back door. “You shouldn’t have three separate entry points for someone who wants to kill you to use.”
Jaspar grumbled about the score being scratched and took a chair next to the table. Anselm moved one of the chairs a few feet over from Jaspar and propped it up so he could see both of the other doors plus the Grand Duke in his peripheral.
“I’m never using you as a guard ever again!” insisted Jaspar, crossing his arms. “You’ll be lucky to not end up in jail after this!”
“I’m saving your life,” growled Anselm. “You should be more thankful.”
“You’re not saving anything!” scoffed the Grand Duke. “You couldn’t possibly understand, but my life actually isn’t in any danger!”
“Why’s that?” asked Anselm, tired and at his end from everything that occurred in the last 72 hours. “Surely it has nothing to do with the agreement the Council has with the assassins!”
“It…” Grand Duke Jaspar’s expression faltered. “Uh… How do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Anselm, leaning in toward Jaspar. “Phantom, the assassin hunting you down? He ignores the rules! He has no problem killing women and children, killing unnecessary guards, killing other assassins, or, apparently, killing members of the Council!”
“That… That’s not possible,” said Jaspar, as if he was trying to convince himself. “No one would do such a thing. The Council would hunt them down!”
“That’s what I figured,” nodded Anselm. “But it’s happening.”
“You must be wrong,” said the Grand Duke. “It can’t be true.”
The front door to the safe room slammed loudly.
Anselm and Jaspar whipped their heads around. A man in an iron mask and a glowing blue gauntlet took a few steps toward them.
“You…?” asked Phantom, tilting his head as he looked at Anselm. “What are you doing here?”
Anselm slowly got to his feet, glaring at Phantom the entire time.
“Believe me now?” Anselm asked the Grand Duke.
“H-How did you get in here?!” demanded Jaspar, the man backing up even though there was nowhere else for him to go. “W-Why are you doing this?! I’m a m-member of the Council!”
“I know,” said Phantom, his voice distorted as usual. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve come to kill you, although finishing off the nuisance with you is an added bonus.”
Jaspar whimpered.
“How did you get in here?” asked Anselm, curious about the question Phantom didn’t answer.
“Let’s just say I’ve got connections you wouldn’t believe,” said Phantom.
“That’s helpful.”
“It’s not like it matters,” said Phantom, shaking his head and raising his glowing gauntlet. “You’re already dead.”
Anselm was ready for the burst of lighting as it shot at him. He dove to his left, avoiding the ray by a few feet, then rolled through and ran for the assassin. Phantom didn’t seem impressed and pointed the gauntlet again at him. Anselm dodged the second blast similarly to the first, only diving to the right this time.
“I can do th
is all day!” laughed Anselm.
“Perhaps,” nodded Phantom. “But can he?”
Phantom lifted his gauntlet and pointed at Grand Duke Jaspar. The man stood completely frozen, his face one of pure terror.
“Don’t just stand there!” Anselm shouted back at him. “Run away!”
“I-I c-can’t m-move…” whimpered the Grand Duke.
The gauntlet flashed blue, and a third ray of lightning shot out.
Anselm didn’t know why he did it. Maybe deep down he remembered the Council would probably find evidence he had been there if Jaspar died. Maybe he wanted the Grand Duke to live long enough for Anselm to rub it in his face that Anselm had been right all along. Whatever the reason was, his legs just moved.
Leaping in between Grand Duke Jaspar and Phantom, Anselm closed his eyes and took the hit.
Chapter 18
There was an awkward, tense silence in the library as Grayson, Calina, and Chaos stared at Sten and Chloe.
“W-We can find somewhere else to eat,” mumbled Chloe, holding two bacon sandwiches herself.
Grayson realized the two stupid guards were serious about leaving. “No! Help us!”
He wasn’t the only one not wanting them to leave. Chaos scooped up the dagger he had dropped and ran at the two guards, blades at the ready. Chloe and Sten split up, running to the left and right of the library. Sten was slightly closer to Chaos, so the assassin went for him first. The bodyguard just managed to get his sword out of his scabbard as Chaos thrusted forward with his first dagger.
In what Grayson was sure was luck rather than skill, Chaos’ dagger clashed into Sten’s sword rather than into his chest. Chaos spun with his offhand and went for Sten’s exposed side. The guard let out a whimper and thrusted his hand out.
Bits of bacon and bread exploded into the air as Chaos’ dagger pierced through the sandwich. Miraculously, the dagger continued through and into the space between Sten’s index finger and thumb, leaving the bodyguard unscathed. Sten let out a cry and took a few steps back before he bumped into a bookcase.
“M-My dinner…” he mumbled.
