House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  The battle in her head abruptly ceased. The light vanished.

  There was nothing left to block the rain, and it all came crashing down.

  The supernatural agony of the gods’ war was gone, but it was suddenly replaced with torn muscles and burned hands. The molten magic had burned right through her leather gloves. Thera looked down at her palms, scorched, as red blood spilled between blackened skin, and screamed.

  The idol was dead, truly dead this time, with a glowing, molten hole burned clear through it. Something like the white demon blood poured out, and where it hit the glowing metal, it hissed into steam.

  The rumble was growing stronger. Thera looked up from her ruined hands to see the great demon barreling her way. There was no longer a wall to stop it. She’d never get out of the way in time.

  Another pattern appeared before her eyes. This one was familiar, because Omkar had tried to teach it to her. She’d failed then, because she’d lacked focus and the wizard’s version was childish garbage in comparison to this. She concentrated, ripped the magic from the bones scattered around her feet, and imagined the world around her changing to fit the Voice’s pattern.

  Everything went black as Thera went to the space between.

  The great demon’s pattern was gigantic as it bore down on her. She flinched and covered her head as she was surrounded by a storm of glowing sparks. The mundane elements that made up her body passed cleanly through the magical elements which made up the demon.

  Then she fell back into the real world.

  The giant had crashed past. Bones had been pulverized into splinters or driven into the dirt in its wake. It had even knocked over its idol, but that didn’t matter, since it was just a broken, empty vessel now.

  The shaking of the ground was too much, and Thera lost her footing. What little strength she had left was rapidly leaving her. The pain in her hands was too much to bear. The clear connection to the Voice was gone. Magic did not come easily to her, so using it left her weak and sick. She went to her knees beneath the rain.

  More demons were approaching, sleek and deadly, and probably angry that she’d just speared their tiny god.

  No more patterns appeared before her eyes. Her god had gone quiet, worn out from its battle. She was on her own again. She stuck her burning hands into a puddle, quenching the flames that still danced on her gloves.

  A black shape loomed over her. She couldn’t even curl her burned fingers around one of her knives to fight back. Thera had fully accepted death when she realized that demons couldn’t fly, and the black thing streaking toward her was in the shape of a giant hawk.

  Talons latched onto her shoulders an instant before a demon reached her. Everything lurched violently as Thera was yanked from the ground. The demon was right behind them as they streaked along, her feet dangling in the reeds, but with a few mighty beats they climbed higher, leaving the vengeful demons behind.

  The ground flashed by below as she faded in and out of consciousness. The talons were locked tightly upon her so she wouldn’t fall, hard enough to bruise her but Kabir was being careful not to pierce her skin. The experience should have been frightening or exhilarating, but compared to being a gods’ battleground, she was too wrung out to notice. She closed her eyes. The wind froze the swamp water on her face and made the pain in her hands even worse.

  Thera awoke when she hit solid ground.

  There was a blur as the hawk disappeared and Kabir stepped from the darkness. Eyes still glowing, he shouted, “I need help! Bring water and bandages.” Then he knelt next to her. “Can you hear me, Thera?”

  Flat on her back, weak as a babe, she managed a feeble nod. She didn’t know where they’d landed exactly, but the floor and walls were rough stone, overgrown with vines and moss. She realized they were high up, atop a ruined tower. Then she turned her head and saw the tall roof of the House of Assassins not too far away.

  “Drink this. It’s extremely potent and will numb the pain,” Kabir said as he put a vial to her lips. The liquid was incredibly bitter. “Rest now. We will care for your wounds. You survived the trial, and it was like none that has ever happened before.” Kabir actually sounded excited as he whispered to her. “If anything, Sikasso underestimated what you can do. You’re more valuable than he ever imagined. With you among us, we’ll finally be able to crush the Capitol!”

  A female wizard had come running up the stairs, followed by a muscular slave. “Kabir! You must hurry! Ashok was seen inside our house.”

  “I’m aware,” he stated. “I told Ashok that killing Sikasso was the only way to save his beloved prophet.”

  “What? Why would you do that?”

  “Because Sikasso’s time is done, sister. He’s gone mad. This is our time to seize control. Now help me with her. There are more than enough bones in her satchel to satisfy the trial, so she’s one of us now. Even if she wasn’t, we must keep her alive. She’s far more valuable than you can imagine.”

  “I defer to your wisdom, Kabir,” the woman said, as she went to retrieve a pack that had been stashed in the corner.

  “Don’t worry, Thera. This is one of my fellow conspirators. I’m sorry to use your devoted follower like that, but Ashok is the only one who has a chance to defeat Sikasso, or at least weaken him enough that I can finish him off. Before, I thought I could do it myself, but I just learned how he managed to get his arm back.”

  The slave began using a wet cloth to clean her hands. She realized it was the one-eyed slave who was really Kabir’s blood brother…Dattu was his name. She screamed when the fabric touched her burned palms. Dattu flinched at the sound, because somewhere in his magically addled brain, kindness remained.

  Kabir leaned in close to whisper in Thera’s ear. “There was a demon arm in the vault, I knew it because I was the one who retrieved it. Perfect condition, almost exactly man sized. The left…Same as Sikasso’s lost. The arm was there before Sikasso’s revelation, but when I went to speak with him in the vault earlier, the hook which had held it hung empty. A melding of man and demon! Such wild magic is forbidden, even to us. When the others learn of this, they’ll be enraged. Sikasso was so desperate to maintain control that he’s done the unthinkable.”

  Even in her dazed state, Thera realized what that meant. It was widely said there was nothing in the world more dangerous than a demonic hybrid. One had nearly killed Ashok in Jharlang, and that was when he’d still had his magic sword. Kabir had just sent Ashok to his doom.

  “No.” She tried to sit up. “You can’t.”

  “It’s all right. It’s for the best.” Kabir gently pushed her back down. He looked at her burned palms. “Don’t worry. If you lose your hands, the wizards of the Lost House can serve as your new hands.”

  “Evil hands,” Thera mumbled as the female wizard returned with the supplies. She stopped just behind Kabir and pulled something from the pack.

  “Your magic is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, Thera! With such power combined with our knowledge, not even the Capitol could stop us! We could rule the world!”

  Kabir’s triumph was premature, because just then the other wizard reached around, long knife in her hand, and she slashed his throat.

  “I’m sorry, Kabir. Sikasso found us out. I had no choice.”

  Kabir never knew what hit him. She’d opened him from ear to ear, and deep. The arteries had been severed. He grabbed for his neck, but his hands were instantly drenched in blood. It rolled down the front of his coat in great rivulets.

  The look on his handsome face was one of denial, then terror, and then nothing.

  The woman stepped away from Kabir as he gradually slumped over.

  “He said you passed the trial. Then welcome, sister.” She looked down at Thera, almost apologetically, as she wiped her bloody knife on a rag. “It is unfortunate about your guide, but Sikasso made me a far better offer. Kabir would’ve done the same to me.”

  There was no honor within a House of Assassins.

  Trembling, Da
ttu looked toward Kabir, lying there dead. The wizards may have called each other brother and sister, but those were just words. Only Thera could see that in that broken, cursed man, the realization that his real brother, his little brother, had just been murdered. Kabir had betrayed him and destroyed his mind, but the slave still remembered family. He knelt there, stunned.

  “Now let’s get you back to the master so he can decide what to do with you. Hurry up, slave.”

  Poor shaking Dattu obediently went back to wrapping Thera’s hands, until he bumped the piece of metal she’d hidden in her sleeve. As Dattu realized what it was, Thera could see the wizard’s construction crumbling. Kabir had said his brother didn’t have the heart of a killer, but he was wrong. Anyone could kill. They only needed a good enough reason. She looked the poor broken slave in the eye and nodded.

  A single tear rolled down Dattu’s face as he pulled the shiv from her sleeve.

  Chapter 41

  Ashok’s eyes adjusted quickly. Sikasso had seemingly vanished. The vault was dark, but it wasn’t absolute. The odd torches beneath the alchemical ingredients were casting some light, and the big metal door leading to the hall was still open.

  Expecting a wizard’s trick, Ashok shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, raised his sword to a defensive position, and waited.

  The shadows were deep. Sikasso had to be hiding somewhere within them. The wizard had changed their environment for a reason. Then Ashok would adjust for that change in a way the wizard wouldn’t expect. He used the Heart to sharpen his hearing. A stream of artificially cool air caused a vibration of chains and the creak of meat hanging from hooks. He listened for breathing or the movement of living flesh, but there was only the hanging dead.

  Had Sikasso fled? No. He is here. Sikasso seemed more pragmatist than coward, but this had become personal. The wizard was playing a game. Time was on his side. The longer he forced Ashok to wait, the more likely Thera was to die.

  “Come out, Sikasso, so I can remove the rest of your limbs.” He moved forward, slowly, still listening.

  The vault door slammed shut. He turned to look and saw the brass wheel was still spinning, but there was no one there. Ashok cursed himself. Had he just been locked in? Was the wizard out in the hall, calling for reinforcements, and having a laugh?

  There was a small movement behind him, the sole of a shoe rubbing on stone, and the whisper of silks. Ashok turned just in time to dodge the sword point that had been aimed for his spine. The attack had come out of nowhere. Sikasso followed with a flicking jab for his eyes, but Ashok parried. The wizard darted back into the shadows…and was gone.

  How had he done that?

  There was another noise, this time from the opposite side. Sikasso came out from behind a hanging demon, swinging for Ashok’s lower leg. He lifted it in time, but it had been so close that steel touched the leather of his boot. He countered, swinging for Sikasso’s ribs, but his sword passed through nothing.

  Sikasso had vanished again.

  “Impressive. A normal man wouldn’t have been able to react in time.” Sikasso’s voice seemed to come from all around him. “My old master once told me, make a Protector blind and he’ll still fight with his other senses.” One of the hanging demons was pushed. It collided with another, causing a chain reaction. The rattle of chains was deafening to Ashok’s augmented hearing. Then Sikasso used his wizard’s trick to cross the room, and he set the dangling limbs over there moving as well. “Overwhelm those senses, then strike.”

  Unfortunately, Sikasso’s old master had been a clever one. There was too much movement and noise for Ashok to pick out the subtle shift of air as Sikasso came out of the shadows behind him. Steel zipped through the muscles of his back. Ashok reacted, dropping onto his shoulder, and rolling forward. He came right back up facing his foe, who was already gone.

  Ashok winced. He’d been cut. Not deep, but the sting reminded him he was mortal.

  So this was the wizard’s game…If he’d still had Angruvadal he would’ve been warned of the attacks sooner and cut Sikasso down. Without it, and deprived of his superior senses, Ashok would become a creature of pure reaction. The power of the Heart flooded through his limbs.

  The sword pierced his shirt, only Ashok moved away from it near instantly, fast enough to avoid spilling blood. Sikasso followed with a kick, that barely caught Ashok’s side. He crashed against a hanging demon. Ashok guessed what was coming next, pushed off, and was out of the way before Sikasso’s sword raised green sparks off the demon hide.

  Sikasso kept coming at him. It was as if he could enter any shadow, and come out another at will. It took all of Ashok’s knowledge and all the speed the Heart could muster to keep him ahead of the attacks.

  The voice came from all around again. “Oh, you’re fast. I’ve killed a few of your kind over the years, but you make them look like sloths.”

  So far Sikasso had been fighting like a man, coming at Ashok from angles he could predict and defend. He should’ve known such a powerful wizard wouldn’t limit himself to the predictable. This time the sword came from above, slicing deep into Ashok’s shoulder as Sikasso fell from the rafters. Ashok had jumped ten feet to the side by the time the wizard disappeared through the floor. Solid things were mere distractions for him.

  He had to be using an incredible amount of magic to do so many tricks so quickly, but Ashok had not seen the wizard holding onto any vessel. With most wizards, all you had to do was stay ahead of them until they exhausted their bodies or the supply of magic they had stored in demon parts. Was Sikasso drawing magic from the stores around him?

  Sikasso came up out of the floor behind him. Ashok felt the blade bite his calf, but he moved with blinding speed, turning down into the attack. His knee slammed into solid muscle and Sikasso let out an audible gasp before he dropped back into the shadows.

  That hit bought him a second to think. There were too many angles. Half blind, Ashok ran to the side, until he crashed against a shelf. Bottles clattered and fell, shattering on the ground, spilling pungent fumes. But at least he had his back against something solid.

  An arm came out of the wall, encircled his neck, and dragged him into the dark.

  Ashok had never gone in between worlds before. It was too still, too quiet. His senses were dulled. Everything seemed slower. It reminded him a bit of being underwater, and that thought made him extremely angry.

  Then he was flung out the other side, where he smashed into the desk. Beakers shattered. Alchemical ingredients spilled. Some of them burst into flames. At least that would provide more light.

  Sikasso stepped out of the darkness. “I can move between with impunity now, easy as breathing. If I’d realized the potential, I would’ve made this improvement a long time ago.”

  Ashok sprang to his feet and attacked. Surprisingly, this time Sikasso did not flee. Their blades crossed. In the fire light, the wizard’s eyes were wide, fevered. Ashok tried to hurl him down, but Sikasso didn’t budge. He shoved back, and Ashok was thrown violently against the wall.

  “Oh yes. Such power. All magic is addictive, but this…” Sikasso made a fist with his gloved hand. “This is godlike.”

  Ashok winced as he got up. Something had popped in his spine. Every second he listened to this criminal blather was a second that Thera was closer to death. Ashok struck. Sikasso was incredibly fast. Protector fast. And far more skilled than any wizard Ashok had faced before. Their blades moved back and forth in a razor-sharp blur.

  But Sikasso overextended, Ashok got past his guard, and slammed the hilt of his sword into the wizard’s mouth with a blow sufficient to tear a regular man’s jaw off. The wizard dropped his blade.

  Sikasso stumbled back, spitting blood. Ashok went after him, raising his sword high, and cleaving downward at Sikasso’s head. The wizard reacted instinctively, raising his arm to block. Which Ashok was fine with, since he had already declared his intent to remove them.

  The edge hit true. Ashok had delivered such
a blow many times. Skin and muscle should have parted with ease, the twin bones of the forearm should have exploded. And the blade should have continued on, barely slowed, to be planted deep into Sikasso’s skull.

  The sword bounced off his arm.

  Ashok stared at his weapon, incredulous. The fine Vadal steel had curled on impact. He’d hit so hard it had stung his hands. That hadn’t been like hitting armor. That was like hitting demon.

  Sikasso slowly lowered his left arm, the sleeve cut and hanging. The fire reflected off the obsidian black below.

  “Hybrid abomination!” Ashok shouted.

  “That’s a secret you’ll take to your grave, Protector.” Sikasso launched himself forward.

  Twisting, Ashok drew his sword back, aiming for the heart. Sikasso slammed right into the point, his momentum shoving the steel clean through his ribs. But that didn’t even slow the wizard down. He drove Ashok back into the wall. They hit so hard that a century of collected dust was knocked from the ceiling.

  Sikasso slammed his fist into Ashok’s face, hard enough to put a thin crack in his skull, from his teeth, through his nose, and into his eye socket. The back of his head slammed into the wall. The next shot, Ashok ducked, and demonic knuckles pulverized that bloody stone into powder. Ashok twisted his sword, trying to widen the hole, grinding steel against ribs. Red and white fluids poured from the wound, but with a roar, Sikasso lifted him into the air, turned, and hurled him across the vault.

  He crashed through the chains, before he hit the floor hard, skidding across it.

  Sikasso pulled the Vadal sword out of his chest, dropped it, and started after him, pushing through the swinging demons. “I did what I had to do. I was born to rule this house. No one can take that from me. I made an oath. I will do whatever I must to see it done.”

  “By becoming a monster?” Ashok struggled to get up. He was seeing double. There were two Sikassos coming to kill him. That blow to the head was making his brain swell.