by J. C. Owens
So many reasons his life was worth less than nothing right now.
But just as quickly, he dismissed all of those thoughts and fears. Clearly this assassin’s target was a man or several men in this room. But why would the masters have sent an assassin here? Was it by Taldan’s orders? No, judging by Taldan’s reaction to learning what Hredeen truly was, the new emperor would not turn to the War Guild any time soon. So what did they hope to gain?
It was a question for another time, though, because right now he was fully committed to his dark task. Having another assassin in the same room was an incomprehensible complication, so he had no idea what to expect. None of the guild assassins ever worked together. It was always a solitary task. A single man was far more able to disguise himself, infiltrate, and to slip away in the resulting confusion after a strike.
This was not the first such surprise either. It had been a shock to realize that Sarnwa was one of Hredeen’s kind as well. Now here was another one.
He didn’t like surprises. His plan, always fluid, now was further complicated. Whatever the second assassin had planned could counter his own actions and potentially reveal one or both of them.
Just a moment ago, he had been mourning lost challenges. The gods had a sense of humor it seemed.
“What is it? Who are you?” Laith’s growl held the malice that the family was noted for.
Hredeen straightened from his bow, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered.
“I bring an urgent message from Lord Parsul, my lord.” He looked up expectantly, clearly ready to impart the missive.
Mansin shot a look at the large man beside them. “Another one? What could possibly be so important right after he had sent another messenger?” He narrowed his eyes…
Hredeen needed to change direction quickly to set Mansin’s growing suspicions to rest.
“I had to sneak out, it was awful,” Hredeen said quickly, letting his voice rise in youthful panic and clenching his hands in distress. “I don’t know what is going to happen. All is lost!”
Mansin’s suspicion turned to impatience and contempt. “Spit it out, boy. What in the hells are you talking about? Parsul returned with a small empire contingent, but he is keeping them busy at home. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Lord Parsul has been arrested!” Hredeen wrapped his arms around himself in a search for comfort.
The men stared, then cursed almost in unison. But the most savage curse came from Mansin’s lips.
“My brother’s been arrested?” Mansin snarled. “Who would dare…?”
Laine pinched the bridge of his nose. “The empire. By the gods, only the emperor could order such a thing.” The growing fear in his tone was echoed in the horrified expressions of the others.
Mansin turned to glare at the tall, dark-eyed man—the other “messenger” who was really an assassin. “You just arrived here an hour ago. Now this spineless boy comes to tell us my brother has been arrested? What is the meaning of this?”
The dark-eyed man stepped forward, inclining his head respectfully. “It took more time than I had hoped to get here, my lord. My horse came up lame—” He shook his head as though casting aside excuses. “I had to walk, and it put me far behind the speed that I needed to give you Lord Parsul’s instructions in a timely fashion. I left over nine days ago.” He shot a sharp look at Hredeen. “When did this happen, boy?”
Hredeen shrank back under the steely glare, playing his role and feeding off the other assassin’s cues. Until he knew why the other man was here, he needed to take care that neither of them were revealed for who they truly were. “Five days ago, my lord. It took time to sneak out, and there were empire soldiers everywhere.” The terror in his voice made the men flinch back.
Laine swore virulently. “Parsul was sure that the small group of imperial lackeys he came with was merely posturing, that once they understood we could offer them Bhantan on a platter along with an illenium mine the empire would let things slide. What could have gone wrong so quickly?” He plunged the fingers of one hand into his hair, pulling at the strands, a snarl contorting his mouth.
One of the generals watched the scene with a grim expression and turned to Mansin. “What are your orders, my lord? If they have arrested Lord Parsul, I would expect that means that a large force has arrived from Anrodnes to enforce the empire’s will.”
Hredeen nodded frantically, hoping to increase their fear and confusion. “They were everywhere! They just took everything over!” He shuddered. “They were terrifying, merciless—unstoppable. They just killed without thought.” A single tear ran down his cheek as his voice choked off. Being able to cry at will was a skill the guild had drilled into him at six years old.
Laine grunted unsympathetically. “Grow a spine, boy.” He looked to the others. “If this is true, we can’t go home.”
Mansin whirled to face him, expression cold. “You would leave Parsul in their hands?”
Laine snorted, folding his arms over his chest. “Do you think he would go back for us? He’s been arrested by the empire, brother. His little ruse with our youngest brother becoming the Chosen has failed. He’s as good as dead. Now they’ve got him, and who do you think will be next on their list?”
Mansin blinked, then paled alarmingly. “By the gods.”
“Yes. Now you understand. They’ll be after us. We’re going to have to hunker down here for the moment, gather supplies and pray they will take political channels and not cross Bhantan’s border until they speak to the old geezer of a king. By all reports, the fool can barely manage to find his own feet. We get ready, go on the march, and head for the northern border.”
Mansin stared at him incredulously. “The border with Tarnwas? They’re almost as bad as the empire. What makes you think they would let us in?”
Laine grinned, eyes cold and hard. “They will if they want illenium. We load up wagons, we take as much as we can to the border, and it will buy our freedom.”
One of the generals spoke up. “What if we stay here? If we possess the mine itself, then anyone will have to negotiate with us to get it, even Bhantan.”
Laine glared at him, lip curling. “You stupid bastard, have you read about the empire at all? They are swift, efficient, and above all, persistent as the hells. With their wealth, they won’t give a damn about the illenium until they have wiped us out. Go. Start gathering as many supplies as we can from the town.” He leaned forward menacingly. “I gave orders that any food stores and anything of value not be destroyed.”
The general leaned back, swallowing heavily. “Your will was done, my lord. There is much that we can use.”
“Good. Now get out, the both of you.”
The two generals bowed hastily and left, the expression on their faces leading Hredeen to believe that the two of them would be far away by daybreak. Loyalty was not a part of Odenar society it seemed.
Laine’s attention turned upon Hredeen. He walked up and put a hand beneath his chin, tilting it up and looking at his eyes, something dark in his expression, a small smile rising to curl thin lips. “Well aren’t you a pretty little thing. You’ve got nowhere to go now, child. How grateful would you be if I took you into my bed and looked after you for a while?”
Hredeen looked up through his lashes and smiled softly, shyly.
Laine leaned closer, his eyes flashing with lust. His smile was cruel and greedy.
Hredeen’s thin knife slid cleanly into the man’s chin, up into his brain.
Hredeen held the body close in a parody of lovers. “Oh, I’d be soooo grateful, my lord. Really,” he whispered huskily.
Behind him, there was a faint sound, a last, soft gasp struggling for life. He turned toward the sound in time to see Mansin as he slid to the ground, disbelieving eyes wide and fixed. Behind him, the dark-eyed assassin jerked his blade free of the second brother. A frown wrinkled his brow as he wiped his blade clean. “That was clumsy. I’m losing my edge.”
The other assassin eyed Hred
een warily. Yet there was something in his stare—a razor-sharp intensity. Almost as if he knew more of Hredeen than Hredeen might wish. He didn’t say a word, merely watched and waited.
Dangerous. The dark-eyed man was as dangerous as Hredeen himself.
Hredeen leaned down to lay Laine softly upon the ground. There was little blood from the wound, but he carefully cleaned the blade upon the man’s garments, but he did not put it away.
He waited for the other man to speak. Since two assassins were never sent together, the dark-eyed man must know that Hredeen had gone rogue, that he was here of his own will and volition. So the question remained: what would the man do? The man’s eyes narrowed, a cold hardness in their depths that had Hredeen readying himself, balanced on the balls of his feet.
They faced each other with the wary respect of predators, neither wishing to test an equal.
The man held out a hand, palm upward, in a sign of truce. “After we get out, we will speak. But with fresh blood in the air, now is not the time for the questions I can see in your eyes.”
Hredeen watched him in silence, but the stranger was correct, now was not the time. He finally put his knife blade away again.
They slipped out past the nominal guards at the entrance, and the two barely glanced at them, arguing among themselves about the value of the Bhantan horses they had stolen.
At the exit of the inner circle, the burly man saw Hredeen coming and gave a gap-toothed leer. “Little pigeon, I give you points for obedience.”
Hredeen held the man’s gaze, sauntering up to him and laying his hands upon the powerful chest, looking up at him admiringly.
“You really are strong.” He stroked light fingers over the bulging muscles before he sent a coy look over his shoulder at his brother assassin. “I’ll have to pass up your offer though. My lover is so very jealous, aren’t you, my love?”
The tall assassin stepped forward, pulling Hredeen away from the guard and back against his own body. He towered over the burly man and used that height to his advantage as he leaned close, his glare hot enough to singe wood.
“Yes. I am. Touch him again, speak to him again, and you will find your balls floating down the river. Understand?”
Whatever threat lay within those dark eyes made the guard’s grin die away. He took a cautious step back, face paling at such a bold, deadly threat from a man dressed as a messenger.
“No harm done. Just a bit of byplay, you know?”
Hredeen’s “lover” held the stare, making several of the other men retreat a step or two as well.
Hredeen took his arm, reaching up and patting a scarred cheek. “He’s really a lamb, deep inside.”
The men looked equally disbelieving.
Hredeen took the dark-eyed man’s large hand in his, tugging him forward. “Have to go now. Wild sex ensuing. So lovely to meet you though.”
He babbled nonsense at his companion as they passed through the silent, frozen men and out into the encampment, Hredeen’s smaller form bouncing in excitement while his companion ambled easily in his wake.
The moment they were out of sight, they slid down a row of tents toward the trees. It was midday, and many men had left for the midday meal, leaving the outer edges abandoned and silent.
It was no trouble at all to gain the sanctuary of the trees. Once there, Hredeen eyed the other man questioningly.
The other man stared back with dark, guarded eyes. “My horse is a mile away, secreted in a cave.” He indicated a southern route.
Hredeen nodded cautiously. “My horse also lies in that direction.”
“Good. Shall we travel together?” There was nothing threatening in that direct gaze, though Hredeen let down no part of his caution. He nodded in silence.
It was odd to run with another who had the same stamina, the same training. Hredeen was lighter on his feet, more agile perhaps, although it was difficult to tell if the other man was merely reluctant to display his abilities.
Brethren they might be, but no assassin was ever encouraged to form a relationship with another. It was one of the reasons that they were sent in alone, lived alone, died alone.
It was odd to watch the other man, as though he were viewing a distorted mirror image of himself. The man was older, perhaps by as much as five years or so, and that in itself was unusual, at least to Hredeen’s knowledge.
There was no such thing as an old assassin. There was no escape from the masters. You either died on one of their missions, or you made a misstep, offending one of them and paying the ultimate price.
There were even assassins trained to track down and kill other assassins. Hredeen had always been thankful that he had not been chosen for such a thankless task. That elite group especially had an extremely limited lifespan. But then the masters looked upon them as trained dogs, valuable for the fight, but as the animal aged and became less useful, the other dogs were set upon it.
He forced his thoughts from the past eight years and how he had discovered something so different, so wonderful at Taldan’s side.
That was not to be. He needed to get his mind back in the game, back into the ways of the War Guild and its training. Sooner or later, he would have to return to them, and they would test him. If he showed the least reduction in his skills, he would be retrained, a painful and sometimes fatal occurrence. It had been horrific enough the first time, when he had been too young and too unworldly to realize that what he was enduring was even abuse.
When he had come to Persis, he had not questioned his orders. He had simply offered himself to the Imperial Heir as directed. His only thought at the time was that, for once, his task would not be distasteful, that the heir was attractive in a way that he had never before encountered. Most targets were leaders or thugs. Many were the filthy and cruel men who had taken Hredeen, used him, even tortured him before Hredeen achieved what he was sent for.
Taldan had been—
He wrenched his mind away once more, returning his complete attention to the feeling of his muscles, the sweet air of the mountains fresh in his lungs. For so long he had been kept within the palace, not imprisoned, but unable to leave for the simple reason that there could be watchers, those sent to spy upon assassins to ensure they were devoting themselves to the task at hand.
It had been difficult to keep his body fit enough, though he played it off as being for Taldan, to keep his form trim and attractive. Even then, it had been hard not to display his training, which would have been immediately noted as different, more than even military training could explain.
Now…now he was free of all constraint, and although it made him feel alive, it also made him feel hollow within. His duty to protect Taldan was over now that Taldan had ascended the throne and sent Hredeen into exile. He would be recalled to Iskama Rael, where his fate would be uncertain.
But first, he would travel back to Zaran to honor his promise. One last promise to an old friend who he prayed to the gods would remember him more kindly than Taldan did. Who wouldn’t see him as nothing but a cold-eyed assassin.
Either way, his time of human contact, friendship and emotion was over.
CHAPTER SIX
Isnay
The day was fair, the sky blue with a smattering of small, fluffy clouds that presented a beautiful, almost unreal picture.
Isnay drew deeply of the fresh air, still containing the tang of the sea even three day’s ride from the capital. They were a modest group. Perhaps fifty or so men who seemed devoted to their king, and with more martial experience than Isnay would have expected. They were all around the same age as Dransin himself, so perhaps they were companions and had taken some sort of training despite their former king’s distaste for anything martial. Heavily armed, they acted as guards for the winding caravan that stretched behind them.
He glanced at King Dransin who rode beside him, his expression grim and tight. He was a confident rider, no surprise within Bhantan, and the mount he rode, a silver-gray stallion, had the movement and grace of
a creature of fantasy. Light on his hooves, with a smooth, flowing stride, he epitomized the majesty of the Asdrata, the almost mythical breed that originated within Bhantan. Isnay could well understand why the Odenar noble had traveled here to purchase a stallion. Now, the thought of these fine animals in the hands of the brutal invading force made Isnay feel ill.
The Bhantan riders used no bits, yet the stallions moved easily under their gentle guidance, and not one animal displayed the urge to quarrel with another stallion.
Naral would be in ecstasy, for his cousin had had a love of horses from his childhood. He owned several that had been rumored to have Asdrata blood. But after Isnay had seen these pure bloods, it showed that Naral’s horses were nowhere near the perfection of these creatures.
Isnay couldn’t help admiring the way Dransin rode. He was a handsome man, when his expression was not fixed into a scowl. Unlike most royal or noble-born men, he seemed to hold no sense of entitlement, no posturing or maneuvering to prove his place.
It was strange to Isnay, yet so wonderful. It seemed that what you saw in the new king was exactly what he was, something that Isnay had never before encountered. Having lived so many years within the court of the emperor, he had developed a sense of people’s intent, of their truth or lack thereof.
This young king possessed a remarkable energy that rang with truth. How he had managed to grow up royal and yet have so little scarring was a wonder.
Dransin sat upon the stallion with such ease, his body moving in perfect synchronicity with the horse, as though they were one. It was beautiful and inspirational to watch. Isnay eyed the fluid movements and could not help wondering what kind of a lover Dransin would be. His fierce intensity pointed to force and power, yet his hands were gentle upon the reins, guiding rather than commanding.
