Assassin of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 7)

by Lucas Thorn

  “Sure, feller. I see where you’re going.”

  “Think you’re ready to pick a side now, sister?”

  The elf eyed the Red Claws. Then the massed Shivs.

  Rubbed the scar on her cheek and sighed. “I figure I ain’t got much of a choice?”

  “Always got a choice, sister. You don’t want to be one of us, you can leave. But it wouldn’t be a wise choice. Not on your part.”

  “You bastards,” Sera spat. “You won’t protect her from me.”

  Then, before Spear could stop her, she leapt at the elf.

  One hand a claw. The other glinting steel.

  It should’ve been A Flaw in the Glass which took the rabid woman down. The elf had already moved to bury the knife in Sera’s guts. Knew she’d do it.

  But it wasn’t the elf who got the kill.

  Klista moved with incredible speed, flying onto the woman’s back. Clamped knees around her ribs. And, in the same movement, spun the cane sword in her hand and plunged it clean through Sera’s torso. Sharp tip bathed in blood.

  Rode the corpse all the way to the ground, face grinning to the sky as she took the woman’s life.

  Rising from the body, the young Shiv ripped the slender sword free and dealt three brutal cuts across the woman’s back.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Spear growled. Turned on Filth. “You didn’t have to!”

  Klista watched blood drool off her sword’s slender tip. Still breathing hard, pointed at Nysta.

  “That’s how we deal with you Red Claws, Spear. She messed with our sister.” Then, to the elf. Formal. A statement of fact. “We’re family.”

  “Just like that?” Spear gawped at the elf. “Just like that, you’re a Shiv?”

  “Weren’t that easy, feller.” Nudged Sera’s unmoving arm. “First, I had to learn a few lessons from her kin.”

  “Baldr?”

  “Yeah. Had to rise from the ashes.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The elf called Nysta sat on a small crate.

  Sat and stared across steepled fingers. Blood, still wet, trickled down her hands. Soaked into the blue sleeves of her new coat.

  Beside her hip, a fat leather pouch. Beside that, a small disc of iron with a nine-pointed star engraved on one side. The other side was smooth and blank. A coin she couldn’t spend.

  One day, he said, it would be hers and she could engrave her name on it.

  For now, she could touch it.

  Be seduced by the promise of belonging to the Order of the Iron Day.

  He seemed to think it important, so she dutifully brushed it with her fingers before ignoring it.

  Stayed where she was.

  Breathing deep.

  Waiting for him to speak again.

  “I’m the youngest of five, Nysta.” Hideg was half-drunk, sprawled on his back across the table. Face aimed to the ceiling. Goblet of wine in right hand. Left lay like a dead fish across his belly. “I have three brothers and one sister. We are kin in that we share the same father. Only, where their mother dressed in silks and satins and sat proud on a seat of gold, mine cleaned his shirts and emptied his pots. I’m told she was a quiet woman. Beautiful, but reserved. I wouldn’t know. I never met her. He took me from her when I was born. By rights, he could have drowned me in the river, I suppose. Instead, he dumped me on the palace guards. I think he felt my loyalty would be guaranteed simply by the fact I was his son. Maybe he thought I would yearn to protect him. But he never looked at me. Never spoke to me until I was eleven. I was a confused child. I didn’t know who I was. Where I belonged. Few even knew I was his son. And those who did would spit on me for it. Can you imagine what it felt like to see him every day in his riches and finery? To see my own kin raised on pedestals while I was treated like shit? While I was beaten into compliance like a common servant? I can still remember seeing Vor in a hall, once. He knew who I was. And he hated me for it. Hated me. They had everything, and I had nothing. Every opportunity. I should’ve been one of them! I should’ve had what they had. Instead, I bled for everything I’ve earned, Nysta. Bled for it. Killed for it, too! You can’t rise as high as I have in the Order if you don’t get your hands wet. And mine are as red as yours. Redder.”

  A flashing image of her father.

  Tall. Arrogant. Robed in black. Huge rings smothered in diamonds and rubies.

  Cold features with pitiless eyes and gleaming white teeth.

  She’d yearned to kill him.

  Tear his throat open and drink his blood.

  After she’d been given the uniform of the Jukkala’Jadean, she’d found herself in the royal palace often. More than once she’d seen him.

  More than once he’d seen her.

  But his eyes never showed the slightest flicker of recognition.

  Then her half-brother, Raste,

  When she’d sawed his head from his shoulders, she could taste the glory of vengeance. Bitter in her mouth.

  The elf sighed. Said softly; “Reckon I know more than you think, feller.”

  “You killed four of my men getting in here. Four. Kind of funny when, after that, you then demand to know if I’m one of them.” His laughter burst free, then cut off as quick as it had started. “Me. One of the Four. Fuck, Nysta. To them, I’m nobody. Of them all, only Tara speaks to me without looking like she wants to piss in my drink. And sometimes I wonder if she tolerates me because she genuinely cares. Or because it irritates him.”

  “You used me,” the elf said. “Used me to get revenge?”

  “Revenge?” He rolled on his side, eyes wide. “Is that what you think this is about? Oh, Nysta. This isn’t about something as petty as revenge. Revenge? No. This is about something else. Something more important. Tell me. How many temples are there in Dragonclaw?”

  “I ain’t religious, feller.”

  “Of course not.” Seemed to sober a little. Nodded. “Veil died a long time ago. She had other names. The Queen of the Dark. Lightspurn. Daughter of Shadows. You know, Grim seemed to truly respect her. I’ve read one of his journals. I think he even loved her. When the Dark Lord fell, this nation was gutted in an instant. Many of us still find it difficult to know which way to turn. I believe, at heart, we’re looking for something to believe in. Something which can sustain us when we’re low. It’s a question the Fnordic Lands has been struggling to put into words since Grim fell, but it’s one which will be asked. Who will we worship now? Can we really follow the Deathpriests now? Can their way keep us safe from the Lord of Light? Or, should we accept His blessings? Should we join him in his fight against your people? Many of my kind will turn to Rule, Nysta. You’ll see. They will. As time passes, they’ll resent elfs and orks more and more. See you as the cause of their suffering. See him as a savior rather than our destroyer. It’s natural, you see. To admire and respect the strong.”

  She pulled her fingers apart and turned hands to fists.

  Squeezed the few last drops of blood loose and watched them drip to the ground.

  “Feller I know says the Fnordic Lands will fight Rule. Reckons people up here are stronger than you think.”

  “This friend of yours is a fool.”

  “Didn’t say he was a friend.”

  “The Wall can’t stand forever. Word has already spread that Rule tried to breach it. That he came close. That one of our own tried to open it for him.” Hideg rolled onto his back and tossed the goblet away. It bounced with a metallic clatter, spilling wine in its wake. “We’re fucked! If we deny him, we’ll die to his sword. If we accept him, we’ll be his sword. No matter what, we lose. To answer my earlier question, there are nine, Nysta. Nine temples.”

  “Sounds like a lot,” she said. Wondering if he was wasting her time.

  Maybe waiting for more of his men to come scurrying in.

  Were they massing out front of the warehouse?

  Was his ork already on the way?

  How much time did she have?

  “We had one god. The Dark Lord. Wi
th Rule, he warred against the Younger Gods. The Younger Gods ruled the world since rising at the end of the Night Age. He destroyed them all, except for Veil who betrayed her own kind. Earned Grim’s trust. Then, when the Vampire Lords returned, he vanquished them too. Killed their last King in his own home, it’s said. Then Rule killed Veil. You know that. Then felled the Dark Lord. So, now we have one. One last god on this world. It sounds like there’ve been plenty of gods fighting over this world for all eternity. Over this land. But, the Younger Gods lived to the south, and to the east. They never came this far north. This was an empty land before the Dark Lord led us to it.” He pressed both hands to his head, blocking light from his eyes. “It’s a puzzle which has consumed my life. If the Younger Gods never came this far north, then why has Dragonclaw got nine temples?”

  “Maybe Grim liked them.”

  He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, jerking up onto his knees and nodding. Enthusiasm making his eyes wide. “That! That’s what I thought, too! But then, I went inside. Do you know, you can’t go inside? Try it. They’re guarded by men loyal to the Deathpriests. Men whose enchantments will stop even you. Even my father won’t go near them. But I did. And you’ve no idea what it took just to enter one of the temples. And, inside? I’ll tell you something. There’s nothing of Grim. Nothing of the Dark Lord. What I’ve seen would drive most people insane. You see, the temples have always been here. They’re older than the city. Older than the Fnordic Lands. Older than anything else. Proving there were others, Nysta. Other gods. From before Grim and Rule. Before the Younger Gods. Before the Vampire Lords. Before the Night Age. Others were here. And their fingerprints are still on this world.” He licked his lips. Looked around. Like he expected one to crawl from behind the crates. Whispered; “In the shadows. In the dark.”

  “It’s been a long day,” the elf said. Felt a headache forming between her eyes. “I’m still waiting to hear why you sent me to die.”

  “You’re not interested in what’s going on in this city?”

  “You found more gods, feller. So what? I’ve been to the Crossbones. You know how many gods they worship there? They’ve got one for every island, so it’s a lot. And I’ve had to talk to goblins. Believe me, that ain’t something I enjoy. And they’ve got a god, too.” She rubbed at her forehead. Felt beads of sweat smear under her fingers. “Figure they’d say he’s the best god ever. Could be it’s like you say it is. Could be the world is feeling low right now. And some people are desperate to believe in any old shit. Ain’t nothing interests me in that. You want to chase after old legends? You go right ahead. But all I want to know right now is why you tried to get me dead. If I don’t get an answer I like, I’ll kill you. Which god you go to after that, I don’t really give a shit about.”

  “I didn’t want you dead,” he said. Frowned. “Why would you think that?”

  “I was told it’s a game your family plays.”

  “And I just told you. I’m not really part of the family.”

  “So, why’d you send me?”

  “To kill Damis.” He grinned wide. Drooped shoulders as he reached for more wine. Drank straight from the jug before raising it in salute. “And you did that beautifully. Spectacularly. You even killed Noster and his entire gang. I’ve never seen anything like it. So much more than I expected or could have believed you’d be capable of. Why else do you think I was celebrating?”

  She stared into him.

  Tried to read truth or lie in his words.

  But saw only the joy of a man whose mind was half-cut by drink.

  “You promised gold, feller. More gold than I could carry. Remember?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. And you’ll earn it.” He crashed back down onto the table, holding the jug merrily above his head. “I’ve got names for you, Nysta. Plenty of names. You’ll kill them. Kill them all. And, while you don’t know it, you’ll be making the world a better place. You’ll be ensuring Rule never steps foot on the Fnordic Lands. You’ll see. You really will. We’re going to change this city. Change the world. Everything will be as it should’ve been.”

  Her shoulders ached.

  Darkness squeezed beneath skin, worms nudging with sluggish exhaustion.

  Standing made her hips and knees feel like dry hinges. But she did it anyway. Stared at the drunk young man for a moment. Let her eyes slide across the four dead bodies between them.

  They’d fought hard. Died harder. Men who’d given their lives to stop her killing him.

  In the end, he’d only needed to open his mouth and she’d stayed her hand.

  Sign of a dangerous man.

  The elf stepped back, wiping eyes with the back of her blood-wet fist. Was it exhaustion, or something else which made wobble slightly on her feet?

  She couldn’t tell.

  But when she opened her eyes again, he was sitting with knees pressed to the underside of his chin. Arms wrapped around shins.

  Watching her.

  Studying.

  Analysing.

  Then judgement.

  “Rest,” he said. “You need rest. Come back in a few days. I’ll have those names for you. And coin. Plenty of coin.”

  “You’d better,” she growled.

  “Next time, Nysta, try not to kill my guards. There’s no need.”

  “Tell them not to get in my way.”

  “I’ll do that.” He tossed her a cheerful wave. Then shook his head as something else occurred to him. “One moment. I heard their lair was destroyed by fire. Do you know if everything was destroyed? His workshop? Was that entirely destroyed?”

  “I torched it, feller. Ain’t anything left.”

  “And what about his potions? His ingredients? All of it? Gone?”

  “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

  “Of course it was.”

  “Then don’t sweat it.” Her lip curled slightly. “It all went up in smoke.”

  “Good. I just needed to be sure. You’ve no idea what that shit would’ve done to the city. No idea. You’ve done a good thing. A great thing.”

  He crossed his legs. Lifted the wine jug and took a long hard suck before letting out another chuckle.

  The elf hefted the heavy leather pouch. Stuffed it into her coat.

  Glanced at the small iron coin.

  It glinted. Promise of a bright future lit by an iron sun.

  “I just joined one gang tonight,” she said. “Guess I ain’t ready for a second so soon.”

  “It’ll be yours. After you’ve done your next job. Then you’ll be one of us completely. Totally.” Held his arms out wide. “So? Are you killing me now? Or have I satisfied your need to know?”

  She looked away from the coin. Forgot it almost immediately.

  Cocked her head at him.

  Rubbed the scar on her cheek.

  Eyes narrowed to bright slits.

  “With all that bullshit about saving the world? You’re hiding something from me, feller. Maybe something important. But I guess it ain’t the same as lying.” She frowned as she thought of her father again. Memory of him watching her being thrown into the street. Him disgusted by her cries. She wondered how many memories she shared with the young man in front of her. “Truth is, I don’t give a shit about your plans. Don’t care if you want everyone dead. Just want you to be straight with me. You do that, and maybe you’ll get from the low place you’re at to the high place you’re trying to get.”

  Hideg smiled.

  Could’ve been a genuine smile.

  “So, you’ll come back?” He leaned across one knee. “You’re not upset about the alchemist and his potions? Everything’s good now, right? It wasn’t too bad, after all. You got out. You’re safe. Right?”

  “Sure, feller.” Then, as she limped away; “Figure it’s been dope.”

  EPILOGUE

  Sometimes, she could almost remember her name.

  It was like the taste of something sweet on the tip of her tongue. A sore in the back of her gum.

  She tu
rned it over and over, pushing at the place where it should be. Finding nothing. But almost feeling it out.

  Sometimes.

  We hunger…

  She heard them all the time now. Even when she couldn’t see them, their voices shivered in her mind. Brooding with ancient lust recently wakened. For too long, they told her, they’d been quiet.

  They told her other things, too.

  Things she didn’t want to know.

  Things which haunted her dreams.

  Foul and horrifying things.

  She crept through the alley, ignoring the mounds of trash which seemed to be alive.

  Passed a small boy with strange blue eyes. A part of her wanted to stop. To talk to him. Find out if he was okay. Maybe help him with food.

  Coin.

  They brought her food. Brought her more coin than she needed.

  She could share some with the boy. He looked underfed and sickly.

  But if she stopped, they might see him. Might want to talk to him. And it was getting harder to stop them. Harder to keep them from rising.

  We hunger…

  Their voices hurt her mind. The back of her neck ached and she placed both hands across the bones beneath her skull. Could feel something moving there. Something hot. It was always there. Always pushing.

  Nervous, she skipped quickly down the alley, ignoring the hesitant wave from the boy. A wave cut short as his father grabbed him and pulled him out of sight.

  She drifted out of the alley and followed a lane. Above, caged balconies shimmered in magelights. Water dripped from their ledges. Into the gutters.

  Someone opened a window and sent the contents of a chamberpot splashing to the ground behind her. She didn’t notice.

  Kept walking.

  Found herself at the end of the lane facing a huge open courtyard of pale stone. In the centre, a massive ziggurat crouched with regal splendor. Its wide stairs rising into the sky. Heavy braziers lit the way to the mysterious summit.