House of Assassins

by Larry Correia

  Angruvadal had conquered death, but did nothing to dull his pain. Such agony was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but he traded pain for a cold fury as he assessed his situation.

  Sikasso had shed his blood-soaked, tattered robes. His left arm was a sleek shadow. Black veins were visible spreading from his armpit and across his chest. The multitude of stab wounds across his body had already sealed. The abomination went to a shelf, dried off some of the blood with a rag, and then pulled on a new shirt to hide his evil arm from his subordinates, who were still pounding on the door and begging for their master’s aid.

  “Stop your infernal knocking. I’m on my way.”

  With quiet determination, Ashok filled his lungs again. Thank you, Angruvadal.

  Sikasso spun the wheel and opened the heavy door. “What?”

  “Master Sikasso, a few demons are crossing the lake, including the biggest one we’ve ever seen. We’ve sent the Dasa to slow them but they’ll be here any—” The wizard stopped when he realized that the vault had been torn apart and covered in blood. He noticed the first wizard Ashok had knocked out, and moved over to help his moaning brother. “What happened to Waman? Are you all right, master?”

  “Ashok Vadal came for me,” Sikasso said with false modesty as he tied his sash. “So I killed him.”

  The younger wizard looked toward where Ashok was hanging. “He doesn’t look very dead to me.”

  Ashok had begun struggling, but his feet couldn’t reach the ground. He needed to get his weight off the hook to free himself. So reaching high, he grabbed hold of the chain, and pulled himself up. Just taking his body weight off the hook was an incredible relief.

  Sikasso’s head snapped around. “Impossible.”

  Once Ashok pulled to where his face was even with his hands, it gave him enough slack to work with. He held onto the chain with one hand, bicep straining, while he reached down with his other hand to pull the hook out of his chest. It was rather slippery, and made a sucking noise as it was drawn free. Once the hook was out, he let go, and dropped, flopping uselessly prone.

  “Why won’t you die?” Sikasso roared.

  “Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind.” Ashok lay on the floor and laughed as Angruvadal welded his heart back together. This time his laughter was real. “But I too, am bound to an oath.”

  A fury rolled over Sikasso. No matter what medicines he’d taken or potions he’d brewed, nothing could hold back a frustrated demon for long. His face contorted with murderous rage as he ran for Ashok.

  Good. Rage makes you foolish.

  Ashok let the abomination take hold of his shirt to yank him from the ground, but before he could be thrown, he grabbed onto Sikasso’s human hand and twisted, grinding the joints. Protector acolytes spent hundreds of hours learning various ways to break limbs, and hundreds more practicing on each other. Ashok used his leverage to snap Sikasso’s wrist. The wizard bellowed in his ear. Then, still locked onto that wounded hand, Ashok turned, throwing his elbow on top of Sikasso’s and shoving down. There was a crack as the wizard’s elbow broke.

  There would be no fleeing through the darkness this time, because Ashok was not going to let go of him until every part of Sikasso was broken.

  The wizard tried to hurl Ashok away, but he’d latched on. They slid through the puddle of blood and crashed against the wall. His burning heart was pounding, but it felt strong, as if Angruvadal had lent him some of its righteous might. Ashok got one hand free, and used that to slam Sikasso’s skull against the stone.

  He kept hitting Sikasso in the head, trying to keep him too rattled to use magic. Even with one arm dangling, the demon blood pumping through his body made Sikasso far stronger, so it took all of Ashok’s skill to grapple him. The wizard’s fine shoes slipped in the blood, and they both went down. Instinct and training enabled Ashok to stay on top. He got one arm beneath Sikasso’s chin, tightened his grip, and twisted. Sikasso thrashed about as they kept rolling across the slick floor.

  The other wizard reacted to seeing his master being thrashed by drawing a throwing knife and hurling it at Ashok.

  Since both of his hands were occupied, all Ashok could do was grimace as the blade stuck him in the side. “Idiot! Can’t you see I’m fighting a demonic hybrid?” But then he thought better of it, risked letting go with one hand long enough to pull the throwing knife out, and then went to carving up Sikasso’s face with it.

  The young wizard lacked either courage or commitment to his master, because he turned and ran, screaming for help. “Ashok’s in the vault murdering Sikasso!”

  Ashok didn’t care if help came, because nothing was going to stop him from slicing this abomination into ribbons. Then the neck he was twisting collapsed into thousands of tiny, scurrying things, and the knife was cutting through beetles. His opponent had dissolved into a man-sized pile of insects.

  It failed to take him by surprise. That trick was how Sikasso had escaped him last time.

  Calm, Ashok got to his feet amid the spreading cloud of biting flies and stinging wasps. The swarm was scattering, but they were near the alchemical desk. The fire had gone out, but Ashok had seen that some of the substances had burst into flame when they’d touched air. There wasn’t time or light enough to read labels, so Ashok upended the entire desk and flipped it atop the squirming pile.

  One of the bottles caught fire. The swarm made a high-pitched screech as some of the fliers flashed into sparks. Insufficient…Unsatisfied with that paltry amount of destruction, Ashok tore the entire alchemical shelf from the wall and hurled the whole thing—containing dozens of bottles—into the swarm.

  Glasses shattered. Some of mixtures burned, orange, red, or even blue, but it turned out that a few of them, when mixed…the result turned out to be rather robust. There was a sizzle of growing sparks and spreading smoke, then a bright flash. The explosion knocked Ashok across the vault.

  Thousands of insects burning made a terrible noise as their fluids boiled into steam and their bodies burst. Ashok picked himself up as a caustic green smoke began to fill the room, burning his eyes and lungs, and forcing him to retreat.

  Ashok stumbled out into the hall, coughing. He’d never cared much for alchemy.

  The short wizard he’d knocked out with a blow to the head had come to at some point, and was dragging himself away. He seemed too dazed to be much of a threat, so Ashok simply kicked him over and took his sword.

  He tried to run for the stairs, but it was more of a lurching walk instead. He was just too badly injured. The sensation of molten black steel and the strength he’d temporarily gained from it was gone. His injuries and fatigue remained. There was a hole in his chest big enough to insert his thumb. So he put the Heart of the Mountain to work sealing his wounds so he could face his next challenge. He didn’t know if that alchemical fire was sufficient to destroy something like Sikasso, but even if it wasn’t, it was certain to take the fight out of the abomination for a while. In the meantime, wizards were coming for him, and demons were coming for the wizards.

  To the oceans with all of them, he had a prophet to protect, and not even death would keep Ashok Vadal from her.

  Chapter 44

  It might have been Thera’s army now, but she wasn’t in any shape to walk, let alone lead. She’d told Jagdish that her wizard rescuer had given her some drug for the pain. At least he hoped that was what was causing the slurred speech and slow wit, and that his men weren’t following the whims of a drunk. So Jagdish just did what came naturally and started giving orders. The smartest thing to do was flee, but Jagdish had come a long way to avenge the Cold Stream garrison.

  “I want a Somsak to climb that tower and watch for demons. As soon as they reach this hill, we have to retreat or we’re good as dead. Murugan, stick with your prophet. You’re her shadow.” He pointed at some workers. “See that barn? You two go find something in there to make a litter so we can carry her. She’s in no shape to walk. The rest of you, let’s go kill some wizards.”

/>   “I volunteer to be in charge of robbing them of valuables,” Gutch insisted.

  “That goes without saying, my friend.”

  “Try not to harm the slaves.” Thera nodded toward the silent man she was leaning against. “They’re unwitting captives, stolen children. Apparently now that I’ve passed the trial they’ll obey my commands.” Jagdish’s expression must have indicated he had no clue what she was talking about. “Never mind. It’s a long story.”

  “Anyone else you don’t wish killed, best say so now.”

  “The only one here I thought might be an ally got his throat cut. Slay them all.”

  The Forgotten must have been one of those wrathful gods he’d heard about! “You heard the lady. Move out.”

  There was no sign of living wizards as they ran toward the house. His scout said that five blue-painted warriors were still down by the lake, waiting to engage the demons. Those men had to be incredibly brave or insane. Either way, Jagdish was glad those warriors were trying to slow the demons instead of him. One demon was enough for him today.

  “Movement above!” Eklavya warned, pointing toward the top floor. Giant birds, gleaming an unnatural black beneath the dim sunlight, began rising into the sky.

  “Take them down!” Jagdish shouted.

  Crossbow bolts and arrows flew. Most of them missed, but at least one struck true, because the last bird’s wings folded, and it spiraled downward to crash onto the roof, out of sight.

  The other shape-shifted wizards continued to climb away. They weren’t coming out to fight. They were running away. Good. Cowards. “Let them go. Take the entrance.”

  They ran up the curving stairs. The doors were a solid affair. They had a few axes and hammers between them, but these looked really sturdy. Jagdish didn’t know if they’d have time to breach—

  But then the doors burst wide as a body was hurled violently through. The man flipped over the railing and onto the grass, where he came to a bloody, eviscerated stop.

  Solves that problem.

  More men appeared in the doorway, desperately fleeing whatever was inside. The first was looking back over his shoulder, so frightened by what was chasing him that he nearly ran right into Jagdish. He was dressed in fine silk robes and had demon bones jangling from his sash, so Jagdish assumed he was a wizard and let him run right into the point of his sword.

  The wizard gasped as steel punched through his belly. He turned to face Jagdish, eyes wide and afraid.

  “Greetings from Cold Stream.” Jagdish twisted his sword hard, and then yanked it out through the man’s guts. His victim dropped to his knees, done for, but knowing better than to take chances with someone who could use magic, Jagdish drew back his arm and smoothly lopped his head clean off. It went bouncing down the stairs and across the neatly trimmed grass, colorful turban unraveling behind.

  There had been two other wizards behind this one, and they didn’t fare much better as the Sons of the Black Sword fell upon them. The first caught a hammer to the shoulder that shattered bones, and then he was impaled on two spears and driven back against the wall.

  The last at least managed to grab hold of some of his magic, making his body incredibly fast for a moment. With a sword in each hand he swatted away the incoming blows, snarling at his unexpected attackers. Even outnumbered, such speed made him a deadly opponent, but then a sword hurtled through the doorway, end over end, to slam into the wizard’s lower back. The blow must have severed his spine, because his legs suddenly went useless and he flopped down, easy prey. Four of the Sons immediately surrounded him, swords rising and falling as they brutally chopped the cripple into pieces.

  That had been lucky. He’d fought wizards before. They were far easier to put down when they were distracted and didn’t see you coming. Jagdish had a sneaking suspicion what they’d been running from, and it was confirmed when the bloodied form of Ashok Vadal appeared in the doorway. The Protector looked like death walking. Jagdish had never seen a man gone so pale, but nevertheless, a smile split Ashok’s face when he saw them.

  “Nice of you to leave us some, Ashok!”

  “Don’t worry, Jagdish. I’m sure there’s more where that came from.” Ashok staggered down the steps, unusually clumsy, almost as if he was drunk from blood loss.

  “Good to see you, brother.” Jagdish put one hand on Ashok’s shoulder to steady him. “You look like you need to sit down.”

  “It’s rare an honorable man would call a criminal ‘brother’.” Ashok cocked his head to the side and squinted at Jagdish. “But thank you…I think I died but Angruvadal brought me back to life.”

  “Now I know you need to sit down.”

  “No. I must go back to the swamp for Thera.”

  “She’s safe.” Jagdish nodded toward the tower. “Over there.”

  Ashok blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Safe?”

  “Temporarily. At least until the demons get us. Whatever this mysterious oath is that binds you, you’ve done your duty. Go to her, Ashok.”

  Their lookout atop the tower began waving his arms and yelling. Murugan was at the base, and he began relaying what the Somsak was saying by shouting loud enough for Jagdish to get the gist of it.

  “The big demon is ashore and killing all the blue warriors.”

  “Time to go then,” Jagdish muttered.

  “More demons have come through the swamp to cut off our escape.”

  They were surrounded.

  Chapter 45

  Inside the House of Assassins, the Sons of the Black Sword prepared their defenses. It appeared all the wizards who could flee had, abandoning their home and their treasure to the demons, but since none of the Sons could turn into birds and fly away, escape was not a possibility. The demons had last been surrounding the base of the hill. Now they were out of sight. Only a fool would believe they’d returned to the sea. The idea of them on dry land, trespassing with impunity, flaunting the Law, left Ashok furious.

  The wizards must not have been a loyal bunch, because they’d left behind a few of their wounded, including the one Ashok had put into a coma by beating his head against a statue, and the short man he’d knocked out downstairs. He’d hoped to find a body, but Sikasso was no longer in the vault. There had been thousands of scattered ashen bits—all that remained of the burned insects—but Ashok didn’t know enough about shape shifting for that to tell him if Sikasso was alive or dead.

  The house slaves had been left behind, but they all seemed to be dumb and mute. They offered no resistance, but also no help. He’d been told that Thera had ordered them not to be harmed, she’d said something about them just being poor victims of the Lost House, so the Sons had honored her command. They’d herded them all into one room, so at least they’d be out of the way when the demons started ripping everyone apart.

  Ashok found Jagdish near the front entrance, trying to figure out how to reinforce the doors. Two of the men were attempting to drag a huge bronze statue in front of it.

  “I figure since everyone who worshiped this fellow is long dead now, he didn’t do them much good, but he might help us now.”

  “That won’t even slow the big one.” A few years ago seeing this many illegal images would have moved him to tear the place down. Now he was ostensibly serving the speaker for an illegal god. It was strange how things worked out. “The regular-sized demons will climb the walls and breach from the upper floors.”

  “I wish this place had better defenses,” Jagdish muttered.

  “For demons? It would make no difference.”

  “Well, barricading the door’s better than nothing.” Jagdish shrugged. “This is my doing. I should’ve retreated as soon as we found the prophet. I didn’t think of demons as being smart enough to circle around in order to cut off our escape.”

  “Take no guilt from your decision. They were there long before your spotter saw them and would have intercepted you on the way out regardless.”

  Jagdish didn’t seem convinced, but
if it made the risaldar feel better to have someone to blame, so be it. “Any idea why they haven’t attacked yet?”

  “In my experience demons prefer to rampage in the dark. They’ll wait until they can see and we cannot. Anyone who gets past them then will be easy pickings in the swamp.”

  The risaldar pulled out his pocket watch and checked the odd little device. “Then we’ve only got a couple hours. That’s not much time.”

  “Time for me to heal enough to fight them.” He needed it. Ashok had never felt so weak and weary in his life. Getting a steel hook through the heart was rather brutal, even by his standards.

  “Even the legendary Black Heart can’t fight five demons.”

  Two had nearly killed him, and that had been with mighty Angruvadal in his hand. “I might not defeat them, but I can draw their attention long enough for the rest of you to run for the barges.”

  Jagdish chuckled. “All those times we sparred together in prison, whenever you talked about how the judges might order you to commit suicide, your voice would get a little wistful. I was hoping you’d find a better purpose and move past all that.”

  Ashok did not fear death. He’d done it once already today, though he doubted very much that Angruvadal would be able to bring him back if he was in pieces being digested in a demon’s stomach. “It is what it is.”

  “There’s got to be another way out.”

  “Then find it. Wishful thinking will not stop that clock from ticking. The Lost House must have planned for various contingencies.” He turned toward the men wrestling futilely against the statue. “Leave that be and bring us the prisoner.”

  While he waited, Ashok leaned against the wall. It wasn’t very dignified, but he was so tired he could barely stand. Getting killed took a lot out of you. A moment later they dragged the short wizard into the room. He’d been stripped of his clothing, searched for magic, and bound by the wrists and ankles. From the bruises, the Sons had been rather rough about it too. The warriors unceremoniously dumped the assassin at Ashok’s feet.