When the man spoke, Kyrianna thought it might have been her imagination. How could a shadow speak?
“Well met princess of Vorea. I must say, I have not been struck for as long as I can remember. You accomplished a great feat today.” Valgannon gave a slight bow, his dark eyes never leaving her.
“Forgive me if I do not applaud myself. I only wish that the blow would have killed you.” She clung to the wall as she planned out her moves, even though a fight against this shadow seemed hopeless.
Suddenly a thought cut through her mind. Her parents had been murdered by an assassin such as this. The fear washed away and she stepped toward the assassin, letting the flames of rage envelop her. “So are you the man that murdered my family, come to finish the job?”
Valgannon chuckled. “No, that man is dead. I killed him with my own hands.”
Kyrianna didn’t know what to think of his answer. “I suppose you believe I should thank you for this?”
“Don’t thank me Princess. I ended his life because of his failure, one that I do not intend to duplicate. I must also inform you that your plans of seeking help from your neighbors are hopeless.”
Kyrianna hid her shock. How could he know? "What are you talking about?"
"That guard you sent to deliver a message to Sanjeera? He won't be making it there. It seems he died in his home last night…murdered they say, so sorry."
Just then Kyrianna watched as Valgannon whipped his head toward the sound of a blade, slowly being pulled from a scabbard in the corridor. He spun on his heels and raced out the cell, barely making a sound. As he sprang into the corridor, the guard that was pulling out his sword was obviously startled to see the assassin suddenly appear before him. He let out a scream that quickly turned into a gurgling groan as the assassin slammed his blade into the guard’s throat, then caught the body as it slumped, slowly lowering him to the ground so that his armor wouldn't make any noise.
Kyrianna charged toward the door and the assassin spun, launching his knife as she slammed the door closed on her cell. The black blade sliced through the air only a hair's width from her face. She stumbled back as the he ran to the door and gripped the barred window.
Kyrianna was thankful that the portal was made to lock automatically when closed. The assassin would have to pick it again or get a guard’s keys to open it.
The shuffling of feet and the clatter of armor slapping together told Valgannon that the guards had heard the door slam and were on their way to investigate. “Very clever, Princess.”
Kyrianna stared at him from the back of her cell with a defiant smile.
"You have bought yourself some precious time Princess. I would hold onto it, because that is all you have. You are already dead."
Kyrianna held her insolent pose as the assassin seemed to vanish in midair.
The guards started yelling out orders when they saw their fallen comrade. One peered into her cell but quickly dismissed any suspicion that she might have had something to do with it. After all, she was locked in.
When more guards came and started buzzing around like angry bees looking for the long gone assassin, Kyrianna slumped back against the wall. Now that it was over, the shock of the experience came on. She started to shake uncontrollably. How close had she come to being murdered just like her parents? If not for the guard showing up so late in the night, most likely to try and rape her, she would probably be dead now. She almost laughed at the thought of the irony, but the vision of the shadow man haunted her thoughts. Why would he be trying to kill her? She was in a prison, and will most likely be hung within a month. None of it made sense. Who was the assassin and who sent him? Her thoughts brought only dread. Just a month ago she had been enjoying the flowers in the market. Now her life was in shambles. Her homeland was doomed. To' Shinbo was the last chance of hope she had, and now he was dead. The assassin couldn't have been lying about that. How else could he have known about Sanjeera? He must have tortured the information out of To' Shinbo before killing him.
She trembled and pulled her thin blankets around her. The nights were growing ever colder as winter moved in. The light of the two moons coming through her cell door window glimmered off something on the floor. When she looked to see what it was, a small spark of hope found its way into her mind. There, in the dirt, lay the assassin's blade, the one that had nearly found its mark and ended her life. As the guards searched for the assassin in the corridors, she snatched the knife up and hid it in a fold of her blanket. She wondered when the assassin would come back to finish the job as she shivered in the corner of her cell and held the blade close to her chest.
†††
Valgannon finished checking the perimeter of the old house until he was sure no one had been around and then slipped inside. The bodies of the previous owners were beginning to smell. He hated the smell of rotting flesh. Normally he would have never stayed at one place for so long. He rubbed at the soreness around his neck where the princess had struck him. She had caught him off guard. He would have to punish himself for such a mistake.
He pulled his clothes off and knelt inside a circle of candles in the middle of the main room. He had used curtains and quilts to cover the windows so that no one on the outside could see the light from within the house. The candles were set up to form a symbol that he had been instructed to make by the voice that spoke to him. It told him that the symbol would allow Valgannon to be blessed with insight and power, the likes of which he had never felt before. The first time Valgannon had sat inside the runic pattern, he had gasped at the feeling that came over him. It felt like he had only been kneeling for minutes, but when he came out of his meditation it was late afternoon on the next day. He had felt such power surging through him then and immediately went out to find a victim. His bloodlust was raging and he had to satiate it. The poor soul that he chose never knew what killed him. Valgannon had bathed in his blood that night.
He now sat inside of the ring of candles again, naked. Despite the cool night air, he was sweating.
The voice spoke to him, instructing him on what to do.
Valgannon picked up his blackened knife and held it with both hands, the tip pointing toward his stomach. Slowly he began to run the edge across his abdomen. Blood trickled out of the wound as he finished cutting the glyph into his stomach. These strange symbols now covered his abdomen and chest. He would soon have to move on to his arms and legs. He didn’t know what they meant.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice spoke. “They are prayers of power in an ancient tongue, meant to cleanse you and help keep you from making mistakes. But they will empower you as well.”
The cuts were deep, but through his meditation, Valgannon was able to slow the bleeding. He only allowed enough of his blood to flow out so that his mistake would be cleansed. The gash would add to the rest of the horizontal scars that ran from his lower abdomen all the way up to his neck. He rubbed his fingers over the raised skin of the others, remembering his every mistake. He never made the same error twice, always learning from them.
He dropped the knife and wiped his hands through the blood that ran down his stomach then rubbed it on his face and trembled in anger as he thought of his failure in killing the Princess. Now the prison guards would be on alert and he would have to wait for a spell, until they grew comfortable again and fell back into their slothful old rhythm. It wouldn't take long, and he was a patient and cautious man when he needed to be. He decided he would try again in three days.
The voice spoke to him again, pulling him from his thoughts. A surge of warm, intoxicating feelings surged through him. He moaned as the presence of something filled his body, his soul. The pleasure rippled through him in currents. His wound closed.
A moment later his eyes snapped open as every one of his scars suddenly started to burn. He screamed in agony as the pain coursed through him. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. A small remnant of pain tingled through his flesh. He fell on his face, panting, soaked in sweat an
d blood Each of the scarred symbols he had cut into his body were an angry red, as if they were fresh wounds again. The pain had been worse this time than ever before. After he regained his breath, he winced as he got back up on his knees.
"The next time you fail, your pain will last much longer. You will wish for death but we can make you suffer without death for eternity if we choose."
Valgannon knew the threat was no boast. Each time he made a mistake the pain lasted longer and was more intense. Each time he thought that he could not bear another second of it and hoped he might die. But each time he lived.
"I will not fail again. The Princess will soon be dead."
"The Princess is of little consequence. It is the boy you must find and destroy. Soon he will come, these lessons we give you are to help you for when he arrives. He will not be so easily killed as this Princess and yet you failed even that."
"She will die soon. Have faith in that,” responded Valgannon, as if he had not heard anything at all. Just as he said it, searing pain ripped through him again.
The voice was a terrible hiss that echoed in his head. "Faith is for the weak! Your misery has been a mere pittance compared to what we can cause you. Kill the Princess, and then the boy, or you will watch, screaming, as we rip the flesh from your body and devour your soul."
A gust of wind blew out all the candles and Valgannon fell on his back gasping for air. The presence was gone. He lay on the cold floor, trembling and alone. When he was finally able to pull himself up, he realized that it was mid-day. He quickly donned his black leather armor and left the house, heading into town. He had scheduled a time for his spies to report to him. He had to make it to the location ahead of them.
When Valgannon reached the tavern called the Muddy Boot, he found a dark corner that would afford him a view of the entire main room. He had two spies reporting to him this night. They were both instructed to arrive separate from each other, one just before dawn and the other shortly after. Neither of them knew who the other was. It was Valgannon's way of keeping control of the situation, and the information he received.
He sat and watched patiently, studying each patron in the large room. This tavern was filled with a rough bunch, mostly hard laborers that wanted nothing more than a cold drink and a good fight after a long hard day of work. Kaheendran officials tried to keep the riff raff somewhat subdued, but one can only control so much. As long as these men beat the blood and sweat out of each other and didn't turn on the helpless citizens, the city guard left them alone.
Valgannon watched as a trio of burly men argued about who would ask the wench that served them for a dance. They were drunk and didn't care if she said no. They would get their dance either way. The argument soon got out of hand and the men started exchanging blows. The tavern owner, a great beefy man himself, split one of their heads open with a short club and promised the same for the other two if they didn't carry their friend out and get lost. As they were leaving the owner yelled out, "Come back when yer sober!" Many of the patrons got a good laugh out of that.
A slim man wearing a ragged dark brown cloak walked in and went right to the bar and ordered a drink. He was the first spy. Valgannon didn't even need to see the man's face to be sure. His posture, and the way he carried himself made it obvious.
Valgannon moved up to the bar, next to the man in the brown cloak, and ordered a common drink. When the owner set it down in front of him, he spun it once and then carried it back to his table in the corner. A few minutes later, the man in the brown cloak walked over and joined him. It was his spy from Vorea.
"Report," was all Valgannon said.
"The Imperial Guard Commander has sent out many scouts in search of the princess, yet they still have no idea that she is being held here. The entire tribe is in a panic over her disappearance. Her absence has caused more ruin then if she had died I think. Were you able to kill her yet?"
"She will die soon enough,” responded Valgannon nonchalantly.
The spy made no attempt to question Valgannon about why the Princess still lived. He knew that would be the death of him. "Vorea has heard rumors of the threat from the north, they have sent out messengers and spies to try and confirm them, yet even now they have started calling in their army from the surrounding villages. Right now there is no urgency to their movements, but if their fears are confirmed, they will hasten the call to arms."
"Even if they call in every single man and woman to defend their great city, it will still fall under Thaluzont's horde. Nevertheless, call for men to watch the roads leading into Vorea from the north, wait for these messengers and spies to return and eliminate them. The less Vorea knows and the less they are prepared, the more thorough their defeat will be."
The spy gave a short bow and was off, disappearing into the night. Valgannon pushed back into the shadow and waited for the next man. He poured the drink on the floor when he was sure no one was looking.
The second moon was just following its sister into the sky when then second spy arrived. Dressed similar to the first, he wore a dark grey cloak that covered the black leather armor. When he stood at the bar and ordered a drink, Valgannon moved up next to him and did the same. After spinning the drink once, he went back to his table. The spy joined him moments later.
"Report," said Valgannon for a second time.
The man's eyes seemed anxious. His body was rigid with urgency. It was his spy from Sanjeera. "I have found the boy!"
Valgannon squinted at the voice that hissed loudly in his head. "He is in Sanjeera?"
"No, he was in Sanjeera," the spy leaned forward grinning. "He left yesterday, traveling north to Kaheendra. He will be here mid-day tomorrow."
Valgannon almost fell from his chair. This was almost too perfect. He would be able to kill the boy and the Princess himself. Thaluzont would be ingratiated. The leverage he finally needed had come. After killing these two prime targets, he would return to the Guild, and he would kill Suntari.
The spy lifted a finger. "There is one more thing. He does not travel alone. The King of Ortsk is with him."
Valgannon thought that maybe he was asleep and dreaming, this news was too good to be true. Three of Thaluzont's most wanted targets, all within his grasp. This was beginning to seem too easy. "How many travel with them? Does the King of Ortsk have many men?"
"No, he travels with only two guards."
Valgannon's heart was pounding in his ears. "That is all?"
"That is all for his men. Four Culdoran warriors, a Sanjeeran messenger, and another man that seems a friend to the boy travel with him as well."
Valgannon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why would Culdorans and the King of Ortsk be traveling with the boy, and why would he be leaving Sanjeera, heading for Kaheendra?" He wasn't asking a question but merely thinking out loud. After considering this new information, he finally looked up to the spy. "Go and gather more men, at least fifteen. If you can't get that many from our Guild, go out and pay some roughnecks to help, they will happily kill for a gold coin. Our force must be ready to strike by tomorrow night."
"It will be done. We have a cell that operates from a small village, not ten miles from here. Nearly ten of our men are there. I will go to the darker parts of the city and find some brutes to fill in. You will have your men by tomorrow night."
"Very good," said Valgannon and gave the spy a dismissive gesture.
The man hurried off to complete his assignment.
After pouring out the second mug of ale he had ordered, Valgannon stood and walked out of the tavern, instantly melding into the darkness of night. He moved off to the side to watch the door of the tavern and soon his suspicions were confirmed. A man that had been watching him stepped out, looked around for a moment, and then moved into the shadows.
Valgannon recognized the assassin and followed him as he headed deeper into the city. Valgannon could tell the man was searching for him. He timed his movements so that he would pass behind the stalker as he crossed in front of an all
ey. With a quick glance, he checked to see if anyone was watching as he stepped into the street, and then he burst into motion, snatching the assassin’s collar as he crossed behind him. With a quick and powerful jerk, he threw the assassin into the alley and moved in swiftly, knowing that this one would not be stunned for long. He was right.
The assassin sprung off the wall just as he hit it, thrusting out toward Valgannon with a knife that suddenly appeared in his hand. Valgannon twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the thrust and placing himself in close to the foe. He slammed his elbow into the man's ribs while grabbing his outstretched arm. With a violent jerk he pulled the arm down over his shoulder, the snap echoed off the alley walls. He was impressed that the man didn't scream.
Valgannon pivoted and threw the assassin toward the wall. With a twitch of his wrist, a blade dropped from his sleeve and into his waiting hand. He thrust his arm forward, hurling the knife through the air. The blade sliced into the assassin's shoulder just as he hit the wall. This time he did scream but it was cut short as Valgannon snatched his throat.
"Why are you here? Did Suntari send you to kill me?" He loosened his grip slightly, allowing the man to breathe enough so he could speak.
"No, I was sent to deliver you a message of importance."
Valgannon tightened his grip again, nearly crushing the assassin's windpipe. "It isn't normal for Suntari to do such a thing. Your life will cease if you don't speak quickly and truthfully." He let loose his grip again.
The assassin gasped but quickly recovered when he saw Valgannon produce another knife. His voice box was damaged and he could hardly speak in more than a low rasp. "Suntari said not to kill the Princess. Kaheendra will use her to spur its people into a rage against Vorea."
Revelations of Doom Page 24
