The Regent frowned, concerned, and turned to one of the guards. "You there!"
Pip casually turned around, "Yes, my lord?"
"Fetch Vincentimir for me, will you? I need him to do some things for me."
"Right away!" Pip jogged off.
The Regent nodded approvingly and turned around to leave his Royal Vizier to the servants once more, much to Rodriguez's dismay.
Ladislaus clucked his horse forward through the morning's mist as his eyes darted around what little landscape he could see. It had taken them half of a week's ride to arrive at Bagamér, as it was on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Hungary, but what bothered the young prince was the fact that the village was dead-quiet.
Usually by this late in the morning, though foggy mist blanketed the terrain, farmers would have begun inspecting their crops and tending to them, and smithies would have started to stoke the beginning flames on their fireplace of what would usually be a long and tiring day. Yet there was no life to the village as Ladislaus, Vincent, and the few dozen cavalrymen they could spare, entered the place.
The only thing that approached them was an eerie cold wind. Inhaling a breath, Vincent recognized the smell.
Death.
A door creaked in the wind and startled the men at the sudden loud and screeching noise. Ladislaus heard anxious whispers from his men behind him and turned around.
"Steady, men. Steady," he called and continued forward.
Vincent concentrated on the door when he thought he heard something fall inside the house. Pulling back on the reins, he stopped his horse and dismounted. He tied the two thick ropes of leather around a hitching post and slowly made his way to the creaking door. Soldiers paused their wandering gazes to look at him in weary curiosity, each of their hands on the hilts of their swords; but not for the reason of the 'Ottoman' walking on foot out and about. It was for fear of what was behind the ominous door.
"Vincentimir!" Ladislaus barked, "What are you doing?"
"Shh!" Vincent hushed the prince harshly and continued on his path.
Ladislaus huffed in anger as Vincent challenged his authority, but stayed silent well enough. The prince was curious as well, and let Vincent's disrespectful behavior slide this time.
Vincent was now at the base of the steps, one hand resting on his armed belt. He was about to open the door with his free hand when his eyes focused on the shutters of the windows. They were smashed in, and the door was slightly ajar. The man pushed the door open carefully so as to avoid turning the door completely off of its hinges. It creaked loudly in protest, but allowed his entry.
Vincent's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkened setting. He instantly saw that belongings had been smashed. Plates were shattered, counters were broken into jagged blocks of wood, fabric was ripped to pieces, and feathers from pillows laid strewn about the room looking almost like white ash. There had clearly been destruction here. Vincent stepped lightly into the next room and saw blood sprayed from ceiling to floor in a clean arc. The next room looked similar, as did the next. The man drew his weapon and finally made it to the master bedroom. There, piled in a neat stack, were the bodies of the family. Vincent covered his nose from the stench and grunted, not affected by the blood at all.
Glancing down, he noticed that his boots were now sloshing around in a lake of what was once dried blood. He paid no mind to it, until he realized that the corpses of the bodies were far drained of their blood and had been long since deceased for it to still be wet. That was when he heard the whispers. Whipping his head forward to glance dubiously at the bodies, he saw them neither move nor inhale to speak. Whirling his body around to what was behind him, he saw nothing. Turning to both of his sides, there was no one near his ear either. Perplexed, he decided to relax and focus. Vincent made sure to loosen up his shoulders and breathe calmly. After a few deep inhalations, he heard it. There. The whispers again.
This time, Vincent concentrated from where they were coming. Yet every time he thought he could pinpoint their location, they vanished . The echoes almost sounded ethereal…
Vincentimir…sss…
Power…sss…through the currency of life…
Vincent concentrated harder and felt himself squint his eyes tightly shut.
Vincentimir III…son of Vincentimir II…drink…life eternal…power…strength…sss…
"What?" Vincent heard himself audibly ask, though only a breeze answered him -a breeze in an enclosed room. It rippled the blood underneath him, which made him notice the movement and look down. When his eyes met his dampened and discolored boots, he heard the whispers cease with one word.
Yesss…
Vincent cocked his head to the side and squatted down, his expression slightly disturbed. His eyes widened as he suddenly felt a sensation crawl up his spine that pushed him closer to the liquid. Breaking his fall into the puddle with an outstretched hand, Vincent craned his head behind him to find no one touching his backside. Vincent's heart began to race as he instantly stood up and shook the blood from his gauntlets.
"Begone, spirits," Vincent turned from the room, not truly believing what he was saying. As he shut the door promptly, he thought for a moment that they said he would 'return'.
Swiftly making his way back to the front of the house, he could see through broken windows that the men and Ladislaus were still awaiting his return.
Vincent opened the door hastily, in the process startling some soldiers, and paced himself back to his horse. He quickly mounted Hadúr and grabbed hold of the reins. It was then that he realized Ladislaus was staring at him.
"Do you need something?" Vincent curtly asked, his mind still elsewhere.
Ladislaus shook his head slowly, "No…but you might. Your face is extremely pale…are you ill?"
"No," was Vincent's terse response.
Ladislaus made an incredulous noise, "Hmm, you simply look like you saw a ghost." When Vincent looked at him strangely, the prince continued, "You know -a spirit of the past?"
"Blasphemy," Vincent kicked his horse forward, "All of the inhabitants of the house are dead. This was not a protest or an uprising of the village's people. This was a massacre."
Ladislaus's eyebrows knitted in anger, "The mist cleared while you were inside, so I took a quick look around and saw more bodies at the center of the village. Someone along the chain of command received the wrong information, because I could see your exact point. This was an attack. Bagamér's people were fine."
Vincent nodded his head, "There can be only one explanation for this."
Ladislaus turned to him, "Ottomans." He spat the word out as if it were cursed.
"...Perhaps," Vincent regarded the notion.
Pip nervously fidgeted with his gloves as he approached his ruler. He had NEVER lost anyone under his surveillance before, and the fact that it was secretly a friend made it all the more bitter. How in the world could Vincent have snuck out from his duty not only to the castle in shaping it up for the celebration, but also from his duty to appeal to The Regent. Had he forgotten the fact that he was treading ever so lightly on eggshells with his alliance to Hunyadi?
Sneaking away was a blatant disregard for orders, on top of disrespecting the man, The Regent, who was staying the people that wished to end his life, and who could just as easily step aside to let Vincent get fed to the wolves -the fine line that would define Vincent's survival being if Vincent cooperated with what The Regent wanted. And it was the most generous Pip had ever seen The Regent become.
It was a very charitable exchange, which made it so confusing that Vincent would flee.
Pip's thoughts were interrupted by the fact that he was nearly to his ruler.
"Umm…Milord…" Pip stuttered.
"Yes, my good sir," The Regent smiled and turned around from his desk of maps, "You have my undivided attention." He clasped his hands together.
"Err…" Pip fumbled with his hands and glanced at the ground, "I cannot…I cannot find him, Sir…"
The Regent's face leveled to a blank stare, "What do you mean? He simply…vanished?"
Pip shook his head, "No…he…uh…I found out that he left with Ladislaus to Bagamér …"
"WHAT? "
"Sir-"
"THAT WAS A DIRECT VIOLATION OF ORDERS!" his veins grew to the sizes of asparaguses, cording around his neck's thick muscles and reddening with each second.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think he might have convinced Ladislaus to go with the men…either that or Ladislaus was not aware of your orders that Vincent was not to go with them."
"I did not mention to Ladislaus that Vincentimir was forbidden in going with him. I thought Vincentimir understood me when I said he was to stay here, within the walls of the castle. I thought Vincent would stay where he was commanded to stay. Clearly, he had wax in his ears," The Regent began to breathe heavily, "Upon his return, bring Vincent to me directly."
Pip shuddered at the darkness of his voice and nodded vehemently, "…of course, my lord."
"Here," Ladislaus motioned to give Vincent a piece of cloth, "Do you know what this is? I could make out Arabic scripture, but most of it has been ripped."
Vincent gently took the cloth and examined it. Ladislaus saw his eyes begin to cloud in denial.
"This…this is the lion of Ismail. I recognize it, but only because of what it used to represent in the scriptures I read in Edirne…" Vincent's voice sounded hoarse.
"Well?" the prince pressed.
The Wallachian looked up at the prince, shaking his head, "You have probably heard of them."
"Of whom?"
"The Ḥashshāshīn, or, as they are now called, Assassins. Derived from the hashish herb that was used as part of their initiation into the cult. Or so people thought. There have been other writings that their name derived from the word Asasiyun, meaning people who are faithful to the Asās, "foundation" of the faith. They were supposed to have been wiped out. The point is that I have not caught news of them for years. They lurk in the shadows, and I even heard that they sneak so furtively around that they do not cast their own shadows. Untraceable. They leave behind them next to no evidence, and leave only conclusions that we wish to see. Had I not been given this piece of fabric, we would have seen this as done by Ottoman soldiers. But, I'm afraid we've awoken something much more…indirectly lethal."
Ladislaus growled in frustration, "I found the fabric in the outstretched palm of a dead villager who managed to rip it from one of their cloaks. Why would they attack a bordering village? Was this a message?"
"Indeed," Vincent agreed, "They are contract killers, hired to assassinate their target. We have clearly upset someone, and we cannot attack something that we cannot see."
"Men! Spread out five in a group and search for any survivors!" Ladislaus ordered and swallowed hard. He defiantly shifted his shoulders to Vincent, "If they were any manner of men, they would face us and fight. If they cannot best us honestly and honorably, they should yield!"
"Then you misunderstand their purpose. Their existence is not to be a soldier or to fight honorably. It is to be a rogue -to be hidden where no one can find you, unless they look close enough. And when they feel exposed, they vanish into the shadows from whence they came."
"To be hidden in plain sight…Wait," Ladislaus held up a hand, "You said that this was a message. This was the Assassins boldly marking their territory, that they have arrived on the scene. I think I know why," he paused until he knew he had Vincent's undivided attention, "What is concurrently happening?"
Vincent frowned at him for a moment before something clicking in his mind, "The Regent's celebration. It is a yearly occurrence."
"Precisely," Ladislaus stated, but not with triumph; with dread, "His party is in less than a week, and suddenly we get a message that Bagamér is uprising against Hungary. Now we realize that the village was, instead, attacked by Assassins."
"This does not add up," Vincent turned his horse in a circle to quickly glance at his surroundings, thankful that the mist had dispersed. He could clearly see the streaks of blood across the ground everywhere, and he could even see that some houses were burnt down, "Why would a messenger tell us the wrong information?"
Ladislaus felt his heart stop, "Vincentimir…"
He did not hear.
"Vincentimir," Ladislaus curtly said, "Look at some of these bodies," he motioned to a few lying on the ground, "I am no expert of embalming the dead or determining death, but these bodies look older and more decomposed into the ground than the couple of days it took to arrive here."
Vincent, suddenly realizing his own experience in the small house, skimmed the bodies and tried to avoid looking at the blood as he noticed that most of the wildlife had chewed off the husks and bones began protruding outward. Flies had attacked the sockets of what once were eyes, and their skin had withered away to now what looked like leather stretched over too much canvas.
"Felség!" a rough voice called. One of the cavalrymen trotted up to Ladislaus with a pail of water. He peered inside and saw a dead and rotted animal, once presumably a raccoon, perhaps.
"What am I looking at?" Ladislaus asked, clearly irritated from the way his train of thought was interrupted.
"This was retrieved from the well in the middle of the village, my lord. The water has been poisoned by the dead and infected flesh of the rodent."
Ladislaus's head snapped up to Vincent's. "Then now we know it really was them. Classic way to kill off the people into manageable bites."
"Ladislaus," Vincent pointed to the bodies, "You are correct. This battle happened long before we came here. In fact, I don't believe we would have arrived to save these people in time. They were already dead by the time we received the fallacious message."
The prince's breath caught in his throat, "Vincentimir, the messenger! He was neither from the village nor any neighboring village that might have seen this slaughtering. He was a part of it! I shall bet you anything that the messenger is an assassin himself!"
Vincent paused for a moment, "That would explain the very late message and how it was wrong…and it would explain why we never heard from him again, or housed him for the night. He seemed to tip us off to Bagamér and then…"
"Disappear…" Ladislaus whispered, "That means that my father is in danger of being assassinated, and we are the only ones who are informed of this treachery!"
Vincent's thoughts instantly snapped to Richard like an elastic band, "This was a set up from the very beginning. They were hoping to lure us out and away from the castle. Far away from it so that they could perform their destruction, and possibly overthrow, without us there."
Ladislaus whistled to his men loudly, "Gather up! Form ranks! We leave back to the castle, NOW!" he briefly turned to Vincent, "The assassins wished to spread us thin. If their desire is to assassinate my father, then they aim to kill the lineage, which means I am also a prospective target."
Vincent rode next to his superior and smiled at the man, "I will not allow harm to come to you, my lord."
Ladislaus blinked, "That's…strangely comforting, to hear you say that. Don't do it again," he smiled back.
Vincent chuckled, but the moment was short-lived when he remembered what day it was, "Ladislaus, we will never reach the castle in time. It took us nearly a week to arrive here on horseback with cavalrymen, no less. What possibly makes you think we could return by tomorrow night's feast?"
"Simple," Ladislaus gathered his reins, "We did not know that our fortified castle was going to be under attack from the inside out, until just now. I believe we can make haste and return, but the more we sit here and debate, the less likely it will be."
Vincent grinned and kicked Hadur's side, "Then we ride!"
Ladislaus steered his horse to the front of the line, noticing that there were fewer men in their ranks. He eyed them, confused and walked his horse up to one of them.
"Soldier, where are the rest of the men?"
The man looked around his horse, puzzled, and
scratched his head, "Umm, Chiscop and Stefan's men were right behind me, my lord, not two moments ago…"
Soldiers paused to look around at one another and only counted twenty men.
"The madness," Ladislaus shook his head, "Am I going to have to make a search party for them? This village is small. How could they possibly get lost?" he kicked his horse and passed Vincent.
"Stop," the Wallachian ordered with such weight that the prince halted his mount. Vincent scanned the rolling hills that surrounded Bagamér and caught sight of something flashing in the sunlight. It glinted and sparkled for a moment before being concealed in the shadow of the trees once more. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
Ladislaus, following Vincent's gaze, turning his to the hills as well, and caught a glimpse of another sparkling object that seemed half-way buried into the grass. There was only one thing that would do that. And suddenly the grass that covered the hills began to move in one fluid motion.
"ASSASSINS!" Vincent shouted at the top of his lungs and galloped toward Ladislaus.
The prince suddenly heard the sound of air whipping past his head. He glanced to his side and watched the soldiers around him fall to the ground, pierced easily as the arrows penetrated their armor. Crossbows. Horses ran screaming away in a blind terror at what was happening, causing their riders to fall. Ladislaus hunched his body as much as possible and clung to his horse's neck as he heard the desperate pleas of his men inundate his ears. Not trusting his eyes, he closed them tightly and kicked his mount as hard as he could. Suddenly sensing that Vincent was not at his side, the prince looked wildly around him, shield covering his chest for what little support that would ensure.
There! To the left!
Ladislaus saw the silhouette of Vincent's image. The Wallachian was charging a group of assassins on horseback with naught but his sword. Not believing his eyes, or his actions, Ladislaus found himself riding towards Vincent in a bewildering rage with his own sword tipped at the enemy. A battle cry exited the prince's lips as he cantered up to the assassins and whacked a crossbow out of one of their hands. The assassin next to the prince began to pull out his own weapon when Ladislaus made his mark. His enemy gasped in pain as a sword was impaled into his shoulder and twisted, visibly sawing off his limb.
Trapped with a Way Out Page 18
