Boris released his breath. He had not realized he had quit breathing. He looked to his left at Veronica and, for the first time in the ten years he had known her, saw fear in her eyes. He knew without asking what she would do tonight. She would swear allegiance, as would most of the others. Some would run, others would try to fight and die, but Veronica was a survivor. Having grown up on the streets of Tar Ebon as the daughter of an assassin, she had learned how to stay alive. Boris would swear also, mostly because swearing was the only chance he would get to one day see his family again.
Chapter 2: Screams
Boris woke abruptly, both his naked body and the bed sheets soaked with sweat. His right hand gripped the knife that always resided under his pillow and he held it up in as much of a defensive position as possible while lying in bed as he looked around, heavy breath echoing in the small bedchamber. Seeing nothing, he tucked his knife beneath pillow and lay back down. Beside him, Veronica stirred but did not wake.
The nightmare had begun the same as it always did, with the night six months earlier at the Maiden’s Tongue playing repeatedly in Boris’ head. In his nightmares, the veiled assassin faded into a shadow that began to consume every person in the tavern. People ran in every direction, trying to escape, but it was no use. As the shadow touched each person, they turned to blood and splashed to the floor. The nightmare would end with Boris drowning as the tavern filled with blood. Tonight though, the nightmare was interrupted by a piercing scream from somewhere in the assassin den.
The scream came again – louder this time. When will he finally die, he thought with a sigh. Every other night it seemed the prisoner was tortured, sometimes for hours on end. The racket of the screams, coupled with the nightmares, left Boris sleep-deprived more often than not. On and on the screams went, for several minutes, as Boris lay trying to sleep. At last, he could take it no more. Sitting up, Boris swung his legs over the side of the bed and proceeded to dress himself. His clothing smelled of sweat and dirt, but there was no laundry service associated with their current accommodations in Henry’s Crossing.
Boris and Veronica had been many places since Richard’s death. The night of his murder, those surviving assassins had met Lord Garik for the first time. He had arrived through the back of the tavern, a mysterious blonde-haired woman at his back, and introduced himself. “My name is Garik. You will call me Lord Garik. As you can see, your previous master has met his demise at the hand of my personal assassin.” Lord Garik had gestured to the hooded assassin. “A similar fate will befall anyone who tries to flee or fight. Now kneel before your new master and swear your fealty to my new world order.”
Around the tavern, the assassins had gone to their knees. One of the men, Zachary, had looked around at those kneeling, eyed the exit, and turned to flee. The poor soul had made it less than five steps before he caught fire and was turned to ash before he could even scream. Boris, wide eyed, had looked back toward where Lord Garik and the two women were standing and noticed that the eyes of the woman to his right were glowing white. So one of his servants was a mage; that was a surprise. Though considering the power of the other woman, the hooded assassin, it should not have been. No one else had tried to flee that night.
Over the next several weeks, Lord Garik and his bolstered band of assassins had moved from town to town across the kingdom of Tar Ebon and to the neighboring woodland and desert lands, seeking to bring yet more assassins’ guilds under Lord Garik’s command. As with Richard’s guild, most guild masters refused, and met swift deaths at the hand of the veiled assassin or the mage. It seemed almost a game between the two women, as if they took turns executing the stubborn guild masters. In the case of one guild, the entire guild had been determined to fight to the death and had barricaded their building from the inside. Lord Garik had arrived with the two women and after consulting with the blonde mage had nodded in agreement, to whatever she said. Stepping forward, the mage had begun concentrating. At first, nothing happened, and Boris had begun to wonder what she was doing. But, suddenly, the air began to feel warm despite it being dark and in late fall. Moments later, the entire building was engulfed in flames and in less than a minute nothing but ash and bleached bones remained. The screams from those inside the building had been all too short.
By the end of their journey, word had spread through the underworld of the fate that befell those who resisted Lord Garik, and assassins’ guilds and their masters surrendered at the first contact from Lord Garik or his servants. The last guild on the continent had been assimilated into Lord Garik’s new world order two weeks earlier and Lord Garik and his personal retinue, which now included Boris and Veronica among others, had made their way to an inn named The Grey Mare in the town of Flintville to make plans. Boris and Veronica were not involved in the planning much – they served more as personal guards and Boris knew they were expendable.
As Boris finished lacing his boots, Veronica began to wake. She rolled over and looked toward him in the darkness. The clouds hid the moon so he could not see her eyes or much of her naked body, which was likely a good thing, for he would have been tempted to return to bed. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m going to check on the prisoner. I can’t sleep so I might as well go for a walk,” Boris said.
“You’re such a light sleeper. I did not even notice the screams. It’s the middle of the night, so I’m going back to sleep.” She rolled back over. “Wake me if you want to have some fun later,” she said in a seductive tone.
Boris was not surprised that Veronica could sleep through a man being tortured to within an inch of his life. He, on the other hand, had not grown up in a place where such noises were common. On his parents’ quiet farm in the empire, he had awoken most mornings to the sound of the rooster crowing and was used to the sounds of cows and pigs and chickens during the day. He would fall asleep each night listening to the silence that came when he, his father, and brothers completed their work. He shook his head - if only life could have remained that simple.
Exiting the quarters that he and Veronica shared at the inn named the Gray Mare, Boris made his way down the hallway to the stairs, where he proceeded down to the main floor and on to the cellar. The sound of screaming grew louder as he descended. It assailed his ears like a physical force as he opened the door to the cellar that now served as a torture chamber. Steeling himself, Boris made his way down.
Hanging on the walls of the cellar were several torture implements, such as pincers, pokers, knives, hammers and nails. The sacks of grain and barrels of alcohol along the opposite wall looked out of place, given the circumstances.
In the center of the room, hanging from chains suspended from the ceiling, was the source of all the commotion. The man was gaunt and below average height for a man, with a thinning hairline and fair complexion. By the look of him, he was from the northern farmlands, northeast of Tar Ebon. Now he was stark naked, with his feet hanging an inch or two off the ground. He hung limp from the chains that bound his wrists and blood dripped down his arms where the irons chafed his skin. His body was covered in bruises, while his right eye was closed up due to swelling. He was missing three of the fingers from his right hand and the remaining fingers all looked as though they had been broken, joint by joint.
Standing in front of the man, with his back to Boris, was Bruno, Lord Garik’s master torturer. Bruno turned and broke into a lop-sided grin, which did not reach his cold, dark eyes, as he saw Boris. Just the sight of the man made Boris shudder. Though not tall or large, it was Bruno's skill with his tools that made so many fear him. One did not want to be on the receiving end of torture at this man's hands. Bruno had no friends that Boris knew of, for none wanted to be friends with a man who could, at the word of his master, torture them to death. Better to keep away from such a man than to draw undue attention and give him further information to use against oneself.
“Ah, Boris! Come, come, and see the prisoner.” Bruno gestured at Boris to step forward, closer to th
e prisoner. “The prisoner is close to breaking, aren't you, Victor?” He sounded excited by this fact. The prisoner only moaned in reply.
Boris took a step closer and then a few more as Bruno tugged at him. As he looked closer at the prisoner, he saw that the initial observations he made had only been a small portion of what had been done to this man. To start, his right eye wasn't just swollen with bruising – it had been plucked out. His left ear had been sliced clean off and his nose was so crooked that it almost ran parallel with his face. Boris surmised that the only reason the man still had a tongue was that he hadn't yet told all his secrets. Boris cringed as his eyes looked downward and saw the man's genitalia. He had been made a eunuch, having been castrated. That this man still lived was a testament to the extraordinary skill of Bruno.
“What information are you looking for?” Boris asked.
Bruno picked up a hot poker. “I am looking for information on the king, who sent him here to spy on us. I want to know about the supposed secret passages that lead into the palace. Garik is very interested in seeing the king die as part of his plan and a sneak attack when the king least expects it is what he wants. However,” Bruno poked the man in the stomach, eliciting a grunt beneath clenched teeth, “this spy is being very tight-lipped. At first, he remained silent, then he would only tell us his name and now all he does is scream and remain silent. Nevertheless, rest assured, he will tell Lord Garik what he wants to know, sooner or later. Why did you come down here, Boris?”
“I came because of the noise. I could hear the man screaming all the way upstairs in my chambers. Isn't there a way for you to muffle him?”
Bruno placed his hand on his chin. “I could shove a rag in his mouth to gag him, but I relish the screams too much. His screams are like music to my ears. Better than sex even. No, he will not stop screaming until he talks or I kill him.”
Boris nodded in understanding. It had been worth a try. He might have known the sociopath would get great pleasure in the suffering of others. “So be it. I will leave you to your work then.” With one more baleful look at the prisoner who, out of loyalty for the king, was enduring such great suffering and, in turn, giving Boris sleepless nights, he turned and ascended the stairs. Perhaps the prisoner would pass out from the pain soon so that Boris could get some rest. Then another thought came to him. Perhaps he would take Veronica up on her earlier offer.
Chapter 3: A Task
The next morning, Boris and Veronica descended the stairs of The Gray Mare together, seeking to break their fast. They found that, despite the early hour, the inn was already quite busy. Boris assumed that this was due to the fact that Lord Garik traveled with a large retinue of retainers, the likes of which included assassins, hangers-on such as prostitutes and even some thieves. Until recently, thieves had kept their distance from assassins.
The innkeeper, a scrawny, balding man with gray hair and a bent back, and his wife, a plump, unappealing woman in her middle years, scurried around, eyes lowered and steps quick. Three younger women at varying ages ranging, Boris guessed, from fifteen to early-twenties, also moved quickly through the inn, attempting to avoid the grasping hands of lecherous-eyed men who thought it would be funny to have some fun with the innkeeper’s daughters. One of them, a tall, brown-eyed girl with brown hair pulled back, reminded Boris of his younger sister Alisa.
Located at the center of the inn, surrounded by his highest-ranking cohorts, including the blonde mage and the cloaked woman, was Lord Garik himself. The blonde mage was in her typical blood red, low-cut dress that left nothing to the imagination regarding her bosom. The cloaked assassin was dressed much in the same way she had been that fateful night of Lord Richard's death and every time he had seen her since – dressed all in black, with a cloak draped behind her chair, her hood up and a veil covering all but her green eyes.
Lord Garik, noticing Boris and Veronica, motioned them over. His eyes seemed to linger on Veronica longer than was proper, though “proper” was a term seldom used among assassins.
“Sit, sit,” Lord Garik said, as he gestured toward two open chairs. “My lieutenants and I were just speaking of you both.”
“I hope you were speaking good things about us, My Lord,” Veronica said in her most sultry voice.
“You could say that,” he replied with a grin that reminded Boris of a wolf eying a chicken. “I have a job for the two of you.”
A job? During the past six months, Boris and Veronica had followed Lord Garik and his retinue around in their travels, but they had never been given any specific task other than “Get in there” or “Stay out of her way” as the two mysterious women accompanying Lord Garik, the mage and the veiled assassin, took center stage and did the hard work. Boris thought this was backward - a general typically sent in his expendable infantry first, but thinking back to the incredible displays of power and skill shown by the two women, he had come to realize that there was no risk involved to either woman during any of their previous operations.
“What sort of job, my Lord?” Boris said.
Lord Garik’s eyes turned to Boris. “You are to go to Tar Ebon and retrieve a shipment of very valuable cargo shipping from the north. This cargo comes at great expense, so failure is not an option. Do you understand?”
Boris returned Lord Garik’s gaze without flinching. Showing fear in front of Lord Garik was one of the fastest ways to end up being “retired” from the assassins’ guild, which almost always meant death – if you were lucky. “I understand.”
“Why us, My Lord?” Veronica said.
“Because the two of you are both skilled, have been loyal so far to me. Also, you are expendable if captured or killed in the event you fail in your mission.”
Out of the corner of Boris' eye he could see Veronica nod her head in acceptance. “Very good. We won't let you down.” Her voice was steady, but had lost its seductive undertone.
“Are you scared?” a feminine voice came from Lord Garik's left. It was the veiled assassin.
“Me? Scared?” Veronica scoffed. “I fear nothing and no one.” The glare she gave the veiled woman would have made lesser assassins look away or stammer an apology.
Her gaze did not have that effect on the veiled woman, however. She kept her gaze firm, searching Veronica's eyes and face, then darting to Boris' eyes, before nodding.
“That's settled then,” Lord Garik said with a hearty laugh. “You are to meet up with the ship named The Black Blood in Tar Ebon. She is expected to come into port five days from now. You are to leave immediately on a merchant boat we've hired to take you to Tar Ebon, named Sylvia's Pride so as to be waiting when the ship arrives. Once the ship arrives, you are to collect the cargo, put it on a wagon, and go to Henry's Crossing. You may requisition additional men to protect the cargo from among the crew of the Blood. Once you have returned, take the cargo to the forest east of town, unchain the package, and leave if you want to live.”
“Why not have The Black Blood port here, at Henry's Crossing? It would be simpler,” Veronica said.
“Because, my dear, despite our increasing hold on this city, the king has placed his own personal guards near the docks. Our attempts at bribing them have so far been unsuccessful and killing them would be too obvious. The king will not expect this cargo to come from the north and he will not expect it to arrive in Tar Ebon, the very heart of the kingdom.
“Now go, break your fast and be ready to leave at noon from dock ten. Do try to dress inconspicuous. I wouldn't want to have to find two others to do this job on short notice after the guards at the docks slew you.”
Boris gulped. This was going to be a very interesting journey.
Chapter 4: Waiting
“Lord Garik gave us a mission, Boris. Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now.” Veronica's voice had become like steel.
“No, Veronica, I’m not saying I am. I was commenting on how it would be so easy for us to catch a boat for Valnos and head east over the ocean toward Imperial lands. We could sta
rt over, free from the grasp of Garik and his agents.”
“Listen, Boris,” Veronica whispered in a fierce undertone, “I am not leaving until I get revenge for the death of Richard. If that means that I have to bow and scrape and kiss that fool Garik’s feet then so be it. I will have my revenge on Garik and his little pet bitch.”
“I understand. Forget I said anything. Come on, we have to get to the docks.” Standing up, Boris left a generous tip on the table as compensation for the glares the poor serving woman received from Veronica every time she came around, and headed for the door.
As Boris and Veronica departed from The Gull Tavern, Boris noticed a city watch patrol, consisting of six men, making their way toward the tavern from the north. Grabbing Veronica's arm, he steered her in the opposite direction, not looking back.
“What are you doing,” Veronica said as she looked up at him, though she was going along with him and speaking in a fierce whisper.
“City watch,” Boris replied. That was all that needed to be said. Assassins didn't quite fear the city watch, for they were under-trained and underpaid, but they were a nuisance to be avoided when possible. Although the city watch members lacked skill, they did possess coordination, and, just as a pack of hyenas could take down a lion, so too could a large enough squad of city watchmen take down a pair of highly-skilled assassins.
Boris and Veronica had dressed to blend in on their journey to Tar Ebon. Boris wore a typical pair of workman brown trousers with a faded green tunic, while Veronica had packed up her dark leathers and knee-high boots in favor of similar clothing, for she had refused to wear a dress.
Each wore a tattered brown cloak at their backs, as most people in this region did if they were traveling. A cloak was one of the most valuable tools available to a traveler. It would act as shelter from rain, a cushion from the hard ground when an inn wasn't an option, a margin of warmth during the colder seasons and could serve as camouflage in the dark.
Blood and Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 1) Page 2
