by Sam Ferguson
“Tell Bracken that fifty gold is too cheap, but I would consider skipping breakfast for one hundred.”
The first senator laughed. “Come, let’s go back inside. Lord Robair is waiting for us.”
Lady Arkyn leaned over the edge, watching them leave. Unfortunately they never turned back so she could only see their backs. At least she had some evidence that Bracken was dealing dirty with Lokton. She looked through the night air toward Bracken’s house, glancing between it and the tavern where the two senators joined up with the old man who had been sitting on the steps. The three of them walked inside, laughing boisterously and entering into a raucous cheer from inside.
She weighed her options. Following them inside could give her more direct information, but she would surely be seen. On the other hand, going to Bracken’s house might yield as little as visiting the senator’s office in the senate hall, but she would remain a shadow. Arkyn rolled to her right and quickly picked her way down the right side of the building before dashing across the street while it was still empty.
A dog barked as she ran by the back of a large manor. The barking grew louder and closer, becoming angrier with each moment. She turned and saw a medium-sized black dog squeeze under a hole in the bottom of its fence and head straight for her.
Lady Arkyn turned and knelt down as the dog charged. She waved a hand in front of her face and whispered to the dog. “Be quiet, my friend.”
The dog stopped instantly, panting heavily but no longer angry. It cocked its head to the side and studied her carefully.
“Go home,” she whispered, pointing to the hole under the fence. The dog turned around and obeyed. Lady Arkyn sighed and brushed the dirt from the front of her pants as she stood back up. Not wanting to waste any more time she turned and quickly made her way to the back of Senator Bracken’s manor.
Crouched at the edge of the back yard her heart slowed along with her breath. She scanned the area. A hand went to her bow and she almost smiled as she spied a globe willow tree growing near a second floor window on the south side. Her hands gripped the iron rod and steadied her ascent while her feet propelled her up and over the barrier in a single leap. She tucked her head and rolled into a flip over the fence, landing silently on the balls of her feet inside the yard.
A nearby hedge would provide perfect cover for her bow. She slid the weapon in at the base of the hedge, careful not to scratch herself on the plant’s thorns. Then, she was up and off to the willow tree. Running forward, she leapt up and planted her right foot halfway up the trunk and then pushed off forcefully to launch herself up and backward to a thick branch. Her arms caught the limb and easily swung her around to perch atop the branch, hidden from view by the drooping smaller branches farther out with their veil of leaves.
She jumped straight up and caught onto another branch, this one much smaller than the first. It bent under her weight, but did not crack. She quickly ran to the middle of the branch and leapt out to her left, swinging from another branch and then executing a reverse flip to land on the wall next to the window. Where a thief may have been clumsy and loud, she was effortlessly silent. Her body made no sound against the wall as her knees bent to absorb the force of her body just as soon as her toes touched the wall and her fingers worked like spider’s legs gripping the grooves in between the brick and stone.
Arkyn slowly arched her back and leaned to her right, allowing her to see into the room through the window. No lamps burned, but a quick glance with her half-elf eyes allowed her to see the chest of drawers against the north wall, a door in the western wall, and a bed against the southern wall. The bed was empty. She pulled a pin from her braided hair and tapped on one of the four inch square panes of glass in the window, searching for signs of magical enchantments or barriers.
Satisfied that there were none, she used the same pin to dig the wood away from the four inch pane. It took her several minutes, but she preferred silence to speed. Once the pane was loose she slid it out with her left hand and tucked the glass under her belt for safekeeping. She snaked her right arm through the hole until her elbow passed through, then she bent her arm up so she could disengage the lock. Silently her thumb and forefinger gripped the flat lever and pulled it open. She retracted her arm and then slid the whole window up enough to allow her to slip in. Once inside she closed the window and replaced the pane of glass she had removed.
Keeping to the balls of her feet she stalked across the room and put her ear to the door. She didn’t hear anything. She then went flat on the floor, peering under the door with her left eye. There was a hallway beyond the door, as she had expected. It was lit and a red runner covered the middle of the hall, leaving only a few inches on either side exposed so that the wood was visible.
She slowly opened the door and leaned to the side to afford herself a better view. The hallway was clear. She stepped out, looking to her right. As was typical of the few senate houses she had been inside before, she saw several white marble busts of previous family patriarchs. Between these busts were various portraits and tapestries, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The hallway ended in grand double doors of mahogany with two brass rings under lion heads.
“That’s the bedchamber,” she whispered to herself. Footsteps echoed from the stairway to her left. She glanced over and the light from below increased. Someone was coming, probably carrying a candlestick or a lamp.
“Gildrin,” a voice called out. The footsteps stopped and the growing light shifted.
“Yes, master,” another man, presumably Gildrin, replied from farther away.
“I am going into the library for the night. I do not wish to be disturbed, do you understand?”
“Yes, master,” Gildrin said. “I will ensure you are left in peace.”
The light shifted back and the footsteps resumed ascending the stairs. Lady Arkyn shrank back into the room and gently closed the door most of the way. She left only a sliver of a crack so she could watch which way Senator Bracken would go.
As Bracken came up to the top, she saw him holding a small box in one hand. He wore long, black velvet robes and by the stern look on his face there must have been a lot on his mind. She watched him turn the opposite way and pause before a door. He said a few things to the door that she could not quite make out, but it was obvious he was unlocking magical barriers. Then he disappeared through the doorway and the door clicked shut behind him.
Lady Arkyn wasted no time slipping out toward the bedchamber. She stuck to the wall, just in case she needed to crouch behind one of the many pasty busts. She stopped in front of the double doors and waved her hand in front of her. A pale green shimmer appeared on the doors. They were sealed by magic as well. She inched closer, inspecting the vague pattern of green lines and circles on the doors. She tapped a fingernail to her teeth a few times as she traced the design with her eyes. She shook her head and sighed. There was no way for her to defeat the barrier. She didn’t recognize the pattern, or even the style of magic it might have come from.
She looked over her shoulder at the other end of the hallway. The corner of her mouth turned up into a sly smile. In a moment she was up and darting down the hallway on her soft, silent feet. She slowed and crouched in front of the door she had seen him go in and pressed her ear to it.
At first all she could make out was a muffled voice. It sounded like chanting of some sort, but she couldn’t be sure. Under the door she could see a shifting shadow, then a flash of purple light and the chanting stopped. She backed away from the door momentarily as a bit of thin, gray smoke slid under the door.
A low, throaty voice ripped through the air. “Gondok’hr, what news do you have for me?”
Fear gripped Lady Arkyn’s spine. It was as if the voice itself had coursed through her body and uncovered her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the voice did not come from any human. She pressed farther away from the door.
“Master,” another voice said from within. “There have been some very exciting developments.�
�� This voice was human, and sounded a lot like Senator Bracken, but something was amiss. Lady Arkyn knit her brow and pressed her ear back to the door.
“Then tell me, Gondok’hr, how does Lord Lokton fare? Will he join with us?”
Clanking metal down the hall made Lady Arkyn jump back. She caught sight of a silver tray holding a tea pot emerging from the stairs. Her heart raced and her adrenaline spiked. A man stepped up to the landing, holding the tray. A flanged mace hung from the man’s belt, pulling the leather down a bit under his waist. How had she not heard him coming up the stairs? She held her breath. If the man looked down her way, she would be discovered.
*****
Al and Erik entered Buktah from the southern gate and directed their horses through the streets. People looked up from the street and parted when they saw the two on horseback.
“Seems different,” Erik commented quietly.
Al nodded. “Things are always different in Buktah, that’s one of the reasons I set up shop here. If you are gone for a week you can miss the whole transformation.”
“Still smells like spices and sweat though,” Erik said dryly.
Al smirked. “Yeah, that doesn’t really change, until winter time,” he said. “Even then the spices just increase with the mulled wines they sell along the streets and the cinnamon cakes. The sweat is still there though.” Al pulled his horse in close to Erik. “I forgot to mention, but Master Lepkin’s sword only bursts into flame for him, so let’s try to keep things quiet while we are here.”
Erik glanced down to the cold, black telarian steel. “No, I have used it before without problems,” Erik corrected.
Al raised his bushy eyebrow and tugged gently at his beard. “When?” he asked.
“When the wizard attacked Valtuu Temple. I used the flaming sword to slay him.”
“Marlin failed to mention that,” Al noted with a wide eyed nod and a frown. “Anything else you want to tell me before we get to the senate’s tribunal?”
Erik shrugged. “Not really,” he replied.
“Well, just don’t try to turn into a dragon.”
“Why would I do that?” Erik asked.
“Just saying in case you get any crazy ideas since you can apparently use his sword just fine, and you are in Lepkin’s body after all.” Al shot him a playful wink and then held a finger to his lips as if they were hiding a big secret.
Erik laughed it off and kept his eyes on the road.
They passed by the Rosewood, the Midnight Traveler, and the Spotted Owl Inn. Erik smiled when he saw the old, plain sign with the word “Inn” etched into its side. “This is it,” Erik said.
“I know the way to my own shop,” Al quipped.
“I…” Erik started to apologize, but something in Al’s demeanor stopped him. “What is it?”
Al did a double take over his shoulder before jumping down from his horse. He looked up to Erik and held a finger to his mouth, signaling the boy to remain silent. This time Al was not playing. Erik nodded his understanding and dismounted. He followed Al through the narrow alleyway, turning his body sideways to fit between the buildings. Al slowed his pace as he neared the opening. He held his left hand out, motioning for Erik to halt. All at once there was a heavy scent of burnt wood and something almost metallic in the air.
Al’s head dropped down and he let out a long sigh. “Oh laddie, what have you done?”
Erik turned his head to look at the street they had just left. Something gray flashed across his field of vision. He reached out with his right hand to tap Al on the shoulder, but his hand found nothing. He turned back to see that Al was gone. A knot formed in his stomach. A bottle skittered into the alleyway from behind. He turned back, pulling Lepkin’s sword from its sheath, but no one was there.
Erik decided if there was danger, he would be better served in a larger area. The alley was too tight for him to maneuver, and Al was no longer near. He bolted out from the alley to see a smoldering heap of charred lumber around a large stone kiln. Some of the embers still burned.
Someone had burned Al’s shop to the ground.
“Al?!” Erik yelled.
“Keep yer voice down, beanpole!” Al growled. Erik wheeled around to see Al kneeling over his old apprentice.
Erik rushed to Al’s side. “Is he?”
Al nodded. “He is alive, but not faring well,” the dwarf said soberly.
“We should get him out of here,” Erik said in a whisper.
Al shook his head. “It’s too late for that.”
Erik looked at Al curiously and only upon closer inspection did he notice Al’s hammer nestled neatly in his lap with his left hand near for quick access. The apprentice moaned, drawing Erik’s attention and showing him that he held one of Al’s daggers. Erik realized that something was about to crash down around them.
He slowly rose to his feet, adjusted his grip on Lepkin’s sword, and let his anger flow into the weapon. “Well then,” Erik said with a nod. “What shall I do?”
“Two on the roof, one behind the burnt shop,” Al said softly.
“There were four,” the apprentice said.
“I saw him at the other side of the alley,” Erik said.
“The Blacktongues will come at us in a matter of moments,” Al said. He looked down to his apprentice. “You need to keep yourself out of the way, boy.”
“I’m no boy,” the apprentice said with a forced grin. He struggled to sit up and locked eyes with Al for a moment. “Give ‘em hell,” he said.
Erik heard a creak behind him. Instinctively he somersaulted to the left while Al grabbed his apprentice and dashed for an outhouse just a couple yards away. A pair of throwing knives whistled as they flew harmlessly by. Al’s apprentice screamed in agony as his twisted, broken leg dragged raggedly through the dirt and grass until Al plopped him behind the outhouse. The dwarf took only enough time to prop his apprentice’s back against the wooden structure before looking back to Erik. He pointed to Erik and signaled that he would go for the roof and Erik should head for the assassin behind the burnt shop.
Erik nodded and jumped to his feet. His eyes scanned the smoldering heap for any sign of movement. A man emerged from behind the kiln. He was already in a dead sprint, coming at Erik hard. Erik saw Al bounding for the alleyway as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. Erik would have to deal with this Blacktongue alone.
Erik raised Lepkin’s sword into a high guard. The Blacktongue readied a war axe in his left hand and continued his charge. Erik’s heart pounded in his chest. He tried to count how many steps the Blacktongue would need, but the man moved too quickly. Erik was forced to parry and dive to the side as the Blacktongue slashed at his side with the axe. Luck, more than skill, gave Erik just enough clearance to dodge the strike. As good as his training had been with Master Lepkin, Erik was unaccustomed to fighting in an adult body.
He was about to experience the steepest learning curve of his life.
Before he could turn around he heard the apprentice shout a warning. Erik instinctively thrust his sword backward, over his left shoulder. The sword shook violently as the blade scraped against something hard. Erik spun under his thrust, maintaining contact with his foe and stepping out far enough to avoid the dagger strike that followed the Blacktongue’s axe.
The Blacktongue struck out with a savage kick to Erik’s ribs, knocking him a few inches to the side. Erik was surprised by the small man’s strength, but he recovered quickly. He lunged forward with an offensive of his own. He slashed his sword down in a quick chop to drive the Blacktongue back. Then he double-stepped forward for momentum before launching a forward snap kick to the Blacktongue’s chest. He connected solidly, sending the wiry man back a couple of feet, but the assassin retained his footing.
When Erik’s foot came back to the ground he felt a burning sting in his leg a few inches below his knee. He looked down quickly to see a small rip in his pants over the side of his calf. He looked up and saw a tint of red lining the Blacktongue’s d
agger.
The Blacktongue drew his thin lips into a crooked, toothy smile and whirled his axe around his left hand. “The legend of Lepkin ends today,” he promised. “Tomorrow we will put down his rabid orphan dog too.”
Erik felt rage boil up within him. A flash of Timon’s purple, broken hand came to his mind, warning him to control his anger. He shook his head. This was not the time to bridle his emotions. The Blacktongue embodied evil and was bent on destroying everything Erik held dear. While he knew he would have to control his anger just enough to maintain control over his thoughts, he welcomed the rage. Anything to give him an edge over this foe.
The Blacktongue charged forward again. Erik resumed his high guard, allowing his anger to flow and course into Lepkin’s blade. Flames leapt out from the hilt and ignited the black Telarian steel. Erik let out a yell, summoning his wrath to the surface.
The two clashed as Erik deftly parried the first strike of the axe with Lepkin’s flaming sword and kicked away a low stab attempt with a dagger. Erik held the sword in his left hand and caught the Blacktongue in the jaw with a savage right hook. Erik heard something pop and snap. The Blacktongue’s chin seemed to dislodge and come forward under the skin while the back of the jaw drooped down.
The assassin reeled back, but he was undaunted. He threw the dagger, but his aim was wild and it only glanced off of Erik’s shoulder with the side of the handle. The move might have made Erik stumble back, but in his enraged state it seemed to him barely more than a fly buzzing onto his skin. He pressed forward, not giving the assassin a chance to regroup.
Down came the flaming sword. The assassin blocked it with his axe and the two found themselves struggling against each other. The Blacktongue reached up with his free hand to keep Erik from bringing the flaming sword down upon him. Erik lashed out with a pair of quick kicks at the assassin’s shins. The Blacktongue grimaced and grunted, but he did not stumble.
“Behind you!” the apprentice shouted out.
Erik disentangled himself from his foe and spun out to the right. The fourth Blacktongue had come out of the alley and his sword missed Erik by a hair’s breadth as he thrust the blade into the now empty air that Erik had just occupied.
