Zane Halloway: Omnibus Edition

by P. T. Hylton

  Xavier Kipling stood over the body of Charles Danum, blood dripping from his sword. Zane looked down and saw his old friend lying on the ground, a bloody hole in the center of his stomach.

  Kipling smiled thinly at the sight of Zane. “Well, this certainly saves me some time.”

  Zane glanced back at the open window behind Kipling. The man must have gone out Sara’s window and come in this one. There was no way Danum would have let him through the door. Zane couldn’t help but be impressed at the speed at which Kipling worked. Danum and Sara had only left the table five minutes ago.

  Zane gripped his sword with a trembling hand. “Ferox!” he called, hoping Gladys and Randell heard him. Hoping they were not lying in pools of blood.

  Kipling and Zane stood looking at each other, two of the four assassins of the Opel Ferox Society, knowing one of them would very shortly be dead.

  “You hid in her room,” Zane said. “You caught her unawares and you killed her.”

  “I’d hoped to wait in your room,” Kipling said. “But time was of the essence and her window was easier to access. Shall we proceed?” There was something in the old ferox’s eyes, something like glee.

  Zane grimaced. Kipling and the other two assassins were close. They worked together often and met regularly. They shared a common purpose and a common dislike of Zane, the youngest of them by ten years. They didn’t approve of how he’d come into his position, killing the pirate Longstrain at the very time there happened to be an opening. They believed his appointment had been made for purely political reasons rather than because he was truly the best man for the job. And Zane couldn’t argue with that. But, however he’d come to the job, he did his best to be worthy of it.

  Zane was about to face the greatest swordsman in Opel. He needed every edge he could get. He took a deep breath and raised his sword in his right hand. He lowered his left hand and let the object in his sleeve drop into it.

  Kipling flicked his wrist. Drops of blood fell away from his blade and hit the ground in a neat arch.

  Zane nodded that he was ready. Then, instead of moving forward to engage, he stepped back, brought up his left hand, and threw the knife in it at his opponent.

  This, he knew, was his one chance at an advantage. The elderly man had said Kipling had been limping, favoring his right leg. It was possible the limp was an act, part of his character he’d sold to the patrons at the tavern in order to gain trust, but it seemed more likely the assassin had actually injured his left leg since the last time Zane had seen him five years earlier. Which gave Zane a slight advantage. Still, he’d much rather fight someone with two bad legs than one.

  The knife hit home and sank into the flesh of Kipling’s right thigh. Zane followed quickly after the blade, lunging with his sword. To Kipling’s credit, he responded about as well as was possible. He cried out in surprise and pain, but he didn’t put his hand on the knife in his leg, thus lowering his defenses, as Zane had hoped. He didn’t even glance down at the spot. He brought his sword up in a clean, sharp line, deflecting Zane’s thrust.

  Zane pressed the attack, but not too hard. Kipling was injured, and Zane was counting on the fact that the assassin would want this fight to be over quickly. The longer it went on, the more desperate Kipling would get. Desperate people could be dangerous, but they could also be sloppy. So Zane fought deliberately, methodically, not taking any risks. Every attack was standard, by the book, but he executed his moves sharply. The goal was for the older assassin to wear down even as he bled on the floor.

  Zane heard voices behind him; Gladys and Randell responding to his call. His body was blocking the door, but he wasn’t about to take an ounce of concentration off Kipling to find a way to let them in, not when he had Kipling at a disadvantage.

  Then it happened. Kipling attacked, lunging a bit off balance. Zane deflected the blow, barely, but then he had his opponent where he wanted him. He attacked Kipling’s left side, forcing the man to put his weight on the injured right leg. Kipling parried, and Zane attacked from the left again. And again. And again. Until finally a hole opened in Kipling’s defenses, and Zane drove his blade through it and into the man’s stomach.

  Kipling fell to his knees and coughed, sending a mist of blood spraying into the air.

  Zane rested his blade on the back of Kipling’s neck. “Tell me.”

  Kipling chuckled weakly. “You think to threaten me? I’m already dead.”

  Zane ignored that statement. “The king hired you to kill me. Why take a man like you away from the front? Is he that vengeful?”

  “Like it matters. The war’s not going well, and now they say the Craggish Army is coming to fight on the side of Tavel. You might be doing me a favor. Opel won’t exist in six months. And I doubt Tavel will have a warm welcome for its enemy’s assassins.” He looked up at Zane. “I wish it hadn’t been you, though.” He coughed violently, and more blood sprayed onto the floor. “There’s something for you in my pocket. Read it after you’re done.”

  Zane nodded. He paused, wondering if he should speak some final word of peace before finishing the job, but he decided against it. Assassins didn’t deserve comfort in their final moments. He brought down his sword and ended Kipling’s life.

  Zane felt Randell and Gladys behind him, but neither of them spoke. He reached into the dead man’s pocket and found a sealed envelope containing a single sheet of paper.

  Zane,

  Come to Harken or Lily dies. History repeats itself.

  Caleb Longstrain

  ***

  Zane stood over Charles Danum, looking down at his old friend’s ashen face. It had been twelve hours since the attack. The local physician had tended to Danum, and the appropriate balms had been applied. He would live, the physician assured them, but he would need to spend the next few weeks in bed.

  The doctor had arrived too late for Sara and, thanks to Zane, too late for Kipling.

  It would have been nice to take time to grief for their fallen friend, but they didn’t have that luxury. There were two more assassins out there, and Zane was convinced they were coming for him.

  “The Pruits won’t follow us out of Opel,” Zane said. “We could run.”

  “So,” Randell said, “we can either flee Opel or go to Harken to save Lily and risk facing the Pruits?”

  “How do we know they can take us out?” Gladys asked. “There are three of us and two of them, right?”

  “I’m not dead yet,” Danum said weakly.

  Gladys frowned. “No. You’re alive and you’ll stay that way as long as I can help it. But you won’t be fighting, either. So we have three fighters. It should be enough. Zane already took care of one of the assassins on his own.”

  “They’ll beat us,” Zane said, his voice grim. “Kipling liked killing. He lived for it. His passion blinded him at times. The Pruits are different. They are professionals who take no emotion, joy nor sorrow, in what they do. They are cold, efficient killers, plain and simple.”

  “Like you,” Danum said, a thin smile on his face.

  Zane looked down at Danum, suddenly troubled. Was that how people saw him? This was a man who’d led the Ferox Society for years and sent dozens of jobs Zane’s way. If even Danum looked at him that way, what must everyone else think of him?

  “Perhaps,” Zane said. “They are better than me, though.” Danum started to speak, but Zane held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not being modest. It’s the truth. I have a tendency to get caught up in my own theatrics. I’m often impressed by my cleverness. Grim as it may sound, I like seeing the looks on my targets’ faces when they know I’ve out-maneuvered them and their lives are forfeit.”

  He glanced at the younger ferox and saw their eyes were wide. He suddenly realized he was doing this partly because time was of the essence and partly as an object lesson. A ferox must always know himself, even the ugly parts. He had always loved teaching. If circumstances had been different, perhaps he could have been a schoolmaster. If he somehow survived
this madness, perhaps he could teach at the Ferox Academy. The thought gave him a sudden feeling of hope, but he quickly suppressed it. The odds of him surviving this week, let alone this war, were very slim indeed.

  “The Pruits share none of my vices in regards to killing,” he continued. “They love the coin and the lifestyle the job brings, but not the job itself. And in that, they have me at a disadvantage. So I want you to think very hard about your decision. I’m going to Harken. I don’t expect any of you to go with me. It’s me the Pruits are after. If I leave, they’ll follow. You can stay here and recover. When Charles is well enough to travel, you can start another life in the Crags or Tavel or even the wetlands if that’s what you want. Perhaps you wish to travel even farther, to find out what lies beyond the edges of our maps. You can go somewhere you can have peace. You’ll go with my blessing. The decision is yours.”

  There was a long moment of silence and a somber air of heaviness fell over the room.

  Finally, Gladys said in a shaky voice, “Zane, there is no choice to be had. We won’t allow you to travel to Harken alone. Consequences and Pruits be damned.”

  Randell gave a sharp nod. “We spent over a year in that hellish prison in Tavel and another year in the Crags dreaming of the day we could come home. Now that we’re here, we’re not about to turn tail just because some assassins are after us. We’re better than all that.”

  Gladys put a hand on Zane’s shoulder and smiled. “My thoughts exactly. Let’s cut down these overrated assassins and do Charles proud.”

  Zane drew in a breath. He was deeply touched. These were fellow ferox, yes, but they had no real reason to be loyal to him. They’d only spent a brief time together. Yet they’d stood by his side.

  “Thank you,” he said. The words weren’t enough, but he didn’t know what else to say. “Then I suggest we spend the evening preparing for travel. We leave at dawn.”

  A few hours before sunrise, Zane went to Danum’s room. “You’ll make sure Gladys and Randall don’t follow me?”

  Danum nodded. “They are brave, and they are dumb, much like we used to be. But I’ll talk some sense into them.”

  “Good.” Zane touched his old friend’s hand. “Be well, Charles.”

  By the time the younger ferox awoke, Zane was gone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lily sat across the large oak table from Ewrkind, staring at his forehead, careful not to meet his eyes. It wasn’t healthy to look an elf in the eye. Their legendary powers of persuasion were too strong.

  She’d finished her proposal almost a minute ago, and the elf had yet to respond. His face betrayed nothing. She was tempted to speak, to press her case, but she knew that would be a misstep. This was a game, and the first one to speak would lose.

  Due to her prior relationship with Ewrkind, Prince Christopher had allowed her to take the lead in the conversation, which had surprised her. She suspected he was making sure none of the blame could fall on him if this went wrong. She didn’t mind. This had been her idea, after all, and she’d rather it succeed or fail based on her own performance rather than that of the prince.

  Finally, Ewrkind spoke. “You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical.”

  Now that she’d scored the first point, she found herself enjoying the feeling. Rather than replying or restating her case, she let her silence show her confidence.

  Ewrkind leaned forward and said, “Just to be clear, you will let us live outside the Blue Wall?”

  She nodded.

  “On land in the northern forests where we’d be free to govern ourselves?”

  She nodded again. “As long as you don’t bother any Opeleans, we won’t bother you.”

  Ewrkind smiled grimly. “Well now, there’s the problem.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I’ve read the histories. Your people’s definition of bothering Opeleans is rather broad. Does it count as bothering if we happen to wander into someone’s line of sight? If a child from a nearby village goes missing, will my people be blamed? When the young men have their first night of alcoholic indulgence and seek out an elf to throw rocks at, is that elf allowed to defend himself?”

  Now Lily leaned forward. “I just spent three weeks negotiating in the Crags, and I don’t intend to relive the experience here with you. I’m sorry, but we don't have time to work through every possible scenario. I can’t instantly solve the issue of the suspicion you will undoubtedly receive from some Opeleans. What I can do is remove you from behind the Blue Wall. It’s really quite simple. Do you want to be free or don’t you?”

  Ewrkind glanced at the elves sitting next to him. Gabel was on his right; Lily had thought the elf was Ewrkind’s servant, but it appeared she’d misjudged their relationship. He seemed to be a close advisor. Maybe even Ewrkind’s second in command. A shorter elf sat to his left. A few sheets of blank paper and an inkwell sat untouched in front of him. His presence made Lily hopeful that Ewrkind was ready to make an agreement and put it in writing today.

  Ewrkind asked, “How many can I bring with me?”

  “As many as are willing to fight,” Lily said. “After the war, they will be relocated to an area in the northern forest, along with their immediate families.”

  “The ones who survive, anyway,” Ewrkind said.

  Lily didn’t take the bait. He had the information. He could make his decision. And a moment later, he did just that.

  “No,” he said.

  Lily raised an eyebrow. She was almost certain this was an opening gambit, a way to gain leverage, but she hadn’t expected a flat-out refusal and couldn’t help but be a little surprised. “No? Isn’t this the very thing you have been fighting for? You sat at this table with Zane and I and told us you wanted freedom for your people. That you were willing to do what the older elves were not in order to get it. I’m giving you that chance.”

  Ewrkind smiled. “Here’s what I think. I think you’re losing the war. I think your negotiations in the Crags fell apart, and now the Craggish are joining forces with your enemy. I think you are desperate for any ally you can get, and Tavel doesn’t have any elves within their borders, other than the few dozen who fled while your king was rounding us up and putting us in city-shaped cages.”

  Lily took a drink from the wine glass in front of her, buying herself a moment to think. She was in over her head, but she had gotten herself into this situation. The king had been on a tirade about her role in the negotiations failure with the Craggish. He’d been furious at her. And at Zane. Poor Zane, with three ferox assassins after him. She swore she’d find a way to help him when she was done here.

  But now she needed to focus on Ewrkind. The fate of a nation might hang in the balance, and that was more important than one man’s life, even if that man was Zane.

  She’d told the king she could get him an elvish army as if it was a guaranteed arrangement. There was no way she could return to him empty-handed, not so soon after failing in the Crags. If she couldn’t come to terms with Ewrkind, she’d have to slip her royal escorts and go into hiding unless she wanted to face the king’s wrath and almost certain execution.

  Lily had also misrepresented herself to Ewrkind. She’d presented herself as the king’s representative, which was true, but she’d also strongly implied that she had the power to negotiate. In truth, the king had been reluctant to agree to her proposal to release any elf who agreed to fight for Opel. It was a big decision, a major shift in policy, and a change that would not be popular with whatever people these elves ended up settling near. But this was war and the king was desperate. At least he’d had the good sense to send Prince Christopher along with her to help with the negotiations. The prince was none too happy about it, either. His dream of leading troops on the battlefield had been deferred once again. Not only that, but he was sitting in the elvish ghetto, a truly humbling experience for a member of the royal family. Lily noticed he kept rubbing his hands together as if miming the motion of washing them to remove the
filth of this place.

  Now that Lily thought about it, this was a very Zane-like situation she’d gotten herself into.

  She softly cleared her throat and spoke in a calm, confident voice. “What you say is true. We are losing the war.” The prince shot her a glare. The royals never wanted to admit to any weakness, not even when it was in their best interest. She ignored his stare and continued. “If we weren’t losing the war, you wouldn’t have this opportunity. A good leader knows how to take advantage of these types of situations, does he not?”

  Ewrkind chuckled, giving Lily a broad smile. “Ah, I’ve forgotten your wit, Miss Rhodes. Though, I liked you better when you were a ferox, before you began meddling with magics and kings.”

  Or before they began meddling with me, Lily wanted to retort, but she held her tongue. She hadn’t chosen this life. It had been forced upon her by circumstance. No, that wasn’t right. It was her mentors, Zane and Jacob, and their strange, strained relationship that had brought her to this place. But Ewrkind didn’t need to know all that.

  Prince Christopher said, “Do you agree to our terms?”

  Lily bit her tongue. She was not pleased that the prince had chosen this moment to intervene. It made her appear weak.

  Ewrkind gave his head a quick shake. “No. I do not. As I already told you.”

  A darkness fell across Prince Christopher’s face. “Then let me clarify our message. Your king, my brother, has conscripted you and all able-bodied elves behind the Blue Wall into His Royal Majesty’s service in the war against his enemies. You will have one day to prepare your people.”

  Lily felt a chill as the mood in the room changed.

  Ewrkind shifted in his seat, subtly adjusting his posture and leaning forward. The effect was dramatic. He now appeared to be looming over them. His features were hard when he spoke. “There is a difference between me and the other elves you may have encountered, Prince Christopher. I will not be intimidated. I think you’ll find conscripting me into your war will not go well for you.”