Ascendant

by Florian Armas

  With a push of his shoulder, Codrin sent the soldier’s body against the wall, and hung him by his belt on the hook. The back of the dead man was leaning on the wall. Blindly, his fingers found the right place on the nape, and he slid the captured sword between the thick shirt and the man’s skin until a third of it passed down under the belt. He shook the body, but it seemed rigid enough, and he sheathed his sword. The point of his boot pressed hard against the buckle, and he sprang up, then climbed on the man’s shoulders, jumping as high as he could. At the last moment, his fingers grabbed the edge of the wall. Codrin sighed, and his second hand went up, and clutched the stone with a strong grip. Slowly, he went up, inch by inch, until his elbow passed over the wall. From that moment it was easy and, with two swift thrusts, he was now lying on the embrasure, between the merlons, ready to roll down onto the rampart. The moment his body moved, an arrow pierced his thigh. Pain came to him, shooting up and down on his spine, banging in his head. He moaned, and finally rolled down on the ashlars of the rampart. The arrow hit the bone. Codrin recognized the unusual pain. His hand blindly fumbled over the arrow. A bolt... The wound may heal faster. The shaft of the bolt was thicker than an arrow, but its point was thinner. It was made to pierce armor. At least the point went out of my leg. His fingers moved around the place where the iron went out of his flesh. They will not try to climb. His eyes swept the garden over the embrasure and saw six men running through the garden with torches, and some more coming out from the palace. I need to take out the shaft and stop the blood. With one of his remaining knives, he cut a long piece from his pelerine, then another one, and laid them in front of him. Breathing deeply, he squeezed the point between his thumb and forefinger and snapped it. The shaft broke with a crack and he moaned like a dying animal. He breathed more, in and out, in bursts, until the blinding pain calmed. Below him, the first man arrived at the foot of the wall. Codrin chose to ignore him, and sucked in as much air as he could. Holding his breath, he pulled the shaft from his leg. He saw black in front of his eyes, and his mind started to sink. Don’t! he growled to himself. Stay awake. The blackness started to vanish, and, unsteadily, he tied the first piece of cloth around his wound, then the second one. I hope it’s enough to stop the blood.

  He breathed deeply again, then threw the remainder of his pelerine over the wall, on the side opposite to the garden, and started to move on his hands and the healthy knee, trailing his wounded leg. At the corner of the wall, he turned to the right and arrived at the merlon where his rope was tied. Absorbed by his moves and pain, Codrin did not see that the first soldier had climbed the wall on a real ladder, at the same point he went up on the corpse ladder.

  A second soldier climbed, and his torch sent light over the rampart. “Blood,” he said, his fingers touching the red spots on the stones. “He was wounded,” the soldier shouted, and then he saw the remains of the bolt. “He took the bolt out.”

  “I think he went over the wall,” another soldier said, advancing slowly, trying to find more spots of blood on the stones.

  “Look there!” another one shouted, pointing down the wall, on the other side. “There is a pelerine on the ground.”

  After a brief argument, the ladder which helped them to climb the wall was brought up, and they split in two groups. One walked along the wall, the second one went down, on the other side.

  Codrin grabbed the rope, and let his body slip over the embrasure. Hand over hand, he slid down until his feet touched the ground.

  “What happened?” Vlad asked.

  “Something went wrong. We have to leave. See if you can take down the ropes.”

  Vlad climbed up, and untied the rope which had helped Codrin climb down into the garden. They were not really tied, only turned twice around the merlon. He threw the rope down on the side where Codrin was waiting, then untied the second rope, and placed its middle over the merlon. He slid down, keeping both parts of the rope in his hands, then pulled the rope down. “Let’s go,” he said after collecting the ropes. Codrin was already a few paces away, walking slowly, limping. “You are wounded.”

  “I will survive, but I may need help at some point. We need to reach the fountain.”

  “They are coming,” Vlad said, seeing the light of the torches approaching them, and gripped Codrin by the elbow. They lay down behind the fountain, hoping that it was not too late.

  Chapter 16 – Codrin

  Close to midnight, the streets were empty, the sound of running soldiers following them, closer and closer, the light from their torches growing. At least the torches allowed them to know how far behind them the soldiers were. Limping badly, Codrin tried to walk faster, his arm around Vlad’s neck. He could hardly stand on his wounded leg. They turned to the right, and for a few moments, the sound of the walking boots behind them faded.

  “One hundred paces left.” Codrin gritted his teeth, and forced himself to lean a little more on his wounded leg. He moaned, but they advanced a bit faster. Behind them, the sound of the walking boots grew again. They are at the corner, he thought without turning, but we are close.

  The darkness was almost complete, but he knew all the stones on that street. For more than five years, Panait’s house was his second home. The horologe of the city beat for midnight, covering the boot marching on the stones; the soldiers were careless. Followed by Vlad, Codrin entered the house half a minute later. Both Delia and Panait were waiting for them, and for Vio. It took Delia just a glance to understand that something had happened, and she closed the door fast behind them while Panait put out the candle. The scent of burnt wick lingered for a while. One minute later, the marching soldiers passed by the house, and then the noise of their footsteps grew fainter and fainter. The long road from Orban’s castle had taken its toll, and Codrin was breathing heavily, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Panait came with another lighted candle, and Codrin made an effort to hide his suffering and stand without leaning against the wall.

  “I just need to take my stuff and we will leave,” he said.

  “You are wounded,” Delia gasped.

  “It’s not a big deal. I just need some light to tie a better bandage and I will be gone.”

  “Where is Vio?”

  “We were betrayed.”

  “Come with me.” She took Codrin by the arm, and discreetly nodded at Panait, who nodded back and left the hall. “I will send one of my men to bring a healer.”

  Biting his lip, Codrin forced himself to walk without leaning on Vlad or Delia. He was at least lucky that the first door was only three paces in front of him. They entered the room and he seated himself on the first chair in his path, a moan escaping his mouth.

  “I don’t need a healer,” he breathed, “Vlad is well trained to mend a wound. I don’t even need stitches.”

  Delia went out to bring more candles, and then helped Vlad to find Codrin’s Assassin healing kit. Back in the room, Vlad untied the bandage Codrin has made while he was on the wall and examined the wound. It was soaked in blood. The edges looked fine, but the arrow had passed through the middle of the muscle, doing a lot of damage, and the flow of blood, while slower, had not stopped yet. At least in this, Codrin was right, there was no need for stitches. Vlad disinfected the wound with alcohol and made a new, tighter bandage.

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Vlad said, when Delia went out of the room for a few moments. Codrin’s trousers were soaked in blood.

  “I will be fine.” Codrin unclenched his mouth to answer. “Orban will hunt us, and I don’t want to endanger Delia and Panait. Give me a few minutes, and I will be ready to go.” He closed his eyes, and his breath started to follow the ‘pain killer’ pattern of the Assassin Dance.

  Vlad looked at him and began to doubt that Codrin would be able to walk his way out of the city in less than a week. Their reserve plan was that they would hide in a small room Codrin had bought two years ago. It had the disadvantage of being far from Panait’s house.

  “Tell me when Delia or Panait
are back,” Codrin said, his eyes still closed. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know. Do you fear...?”

  “No,” Codrin said firmly. “I trust them. When I walk out, don’t try to help me. I will manage it ... for a while.” He said nothing more until Delia finally returned, and Vlad shook his arm. “We have to leave, Delia.”

  “That wound will not let you walk much. You will stay here. Our house is your house.”

  “I can’t.” Biting his lip, Codrin stood up, went out of the room and started to walk toward the main door.

  “Tudor,” she said gently, “please don’t be stubborn; stay here.”

  “It’s too dangerous. We were betrayed, and Orban’s men are searching for me. I even don’t know what happened to Vio and Cantemir.”

  “We will hide you.”

  “No, think of your children. I don’t want to put you in danger. I killed three guards, and Orban may be more than a little mad right now.” Codrin was in front of the main door and, trying to open it, found that it was locked. “Delia,” he turned toward her.

  “I would not have had children without you saving us in the Cursed Forest.”

  Just then, Panait came back into the small hall.

  “Panait,” Codrin said, fighting hard to keep his voice even. “Please open the door. I don’t want to endanger you. We need to leave; Orban is hunting us.”

  “It’s better if you leave through the back door,” Panait said. “Follow me.”

  Codrin nodded, and started to walk again, ignoring the fierce pain that burned through his wounded bone into his spine. He could do nothing to ignore his weakness. With each step, his breathing became shallower. They arrived at some stairs and he bit his lip.

  “Vlad, I need your help to climb down,” he whispered. “Be discreet.”

  Delia saw Vlad’s hand gripping Codrin’s arm, but said nothing. Finally, they arrived at what looked like a secret door. When it was not needed, the door was hidden by an armoire which had been moved away.

  “Here,” Panait said, opening the door, and all four entered the secret room.

  “Where is the next door?” Codrin asked.

  “There is no next door,” Panait said. “Sorry for this ... but you will not leave my house with such a wound. You are safe here.”

  Codrin opened his mouth to protest, but weakness bit him, and he went pale beneath the coppery stubble of his beard. He stumbled, and whatever he wanted to say remained between his tight lips. Vlad and Panait took him by the arms and made him lie in bed.

  Delia sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hair. “I hope that you will not be wounded again, but if there is a next time, don’t try to deceive me. I treated many wounds when we were traveling with the caravans. Did the arrow touch the bone of your leg?”

  Yes, Codrin nodded, remembering the sharp pain going up his leg and spine, into his head. Her brows rose slightly, and a grimaced twisted the fine-cut lips on one side.

  ***

  Considering that Cantemir had felt so weak the evening before, he looked well in the morning when everybody who counted met in his room. Considering that he had faked his weakness, he felt no better than the day before.

  “We have a little charade to solve,” Orban said, before everybody could be seated.

  “Did you catch the assailant or assailants?” Cantemir asked.

  “Why are you thinking in plurals?”

  “I had a flashback. There was a second man down the stairs. He seemed to be keeping an eye on the door going into the garden.”

  “There was a man there,” Orban agreed.

  “You caught him.” I hope not. I think not. I would have known already. Thoughts swirled in Cantemir’s mind, and he closed his eyes. His reaction did not pass unobserved, but everybody put it down to his weakness. Except Jara and Panait.

  “No,” Orban said, fighting to keep his irritation in check. “He killed three soldiers, but he escaped. Not unharmed. He took a bolt. We don’t know how bad his wound is. My men are combing the city after him. After them; there was a second man waiting for him outside the garden.”

  “And the third one?” Cantemir asked, trying not to think about Codrin’s wound.

  “The third one vanished without a trace.”

  “Did you ask your...?”

  “My son hired one of them, but as usual he doesn’t know much.”

  “It may be that the unknown man hired him,” Cantemir suggested, “and I think that the second one was there in reserve.”

  “The second one was there to help Vio escape,” Drusila said.

  “What do you mean?” Cantemir asked.

  “Drusila told us a nice story about you helping Codrin to sneak Vio away,” Jara said, her voice cold and calculated.

  “That young guy who gives Maud the headaches?” This time, Cantemir was genuinely surprised, and Orban slightly amused, thinking of Maud’s headache, even though he had one of his own, but Codrin seemed to provoke a greater one. “How would he enter Arad?” Cantemir shook his head.

  “Drusila thinks that the man who attacked you is unrelated to the other one,” Orban said.

  “Drusila would say whatever she wants to prove her failed vision right. If it was a vision. Isn’t this strange?” Cantemir mused. “I was attacked, exactly when she bypassed the protocol and entered the palace without the right permission.”

  “Are you accusing me?” Drusila asked coldly.

  “I only want to underline that we had a strange chain of events. You claim to have had a vision about me helping Vio to run away, and I was attacked after you entered the palace with your guards.”

  “And?”

  “If Cantemir had been dead, Drusila would have claimed that her vision was right, and only that ‘accident’ stopped Vio from escaping,” Jara interjected. “Of course, Vio sleeping in her bed was just another accident.”

  “Suppositions,” Drusila shrugged.

  “My wound is not a supposition,” Cantemir snapped. His hand moved to enhance his words, and he bent in pain. “Verenius, Panait,” he said when the pain subsided, “I want to file a complaint that Drusila and Maud planned to kill me.”

  “Let’s not go so far,” Verenius said, trying to gather his thoughts. “There is nothing to prove that they were involved, and Sages don’t kill Sages. You know that.”

  “Oh, I know it very well. Panait, please give me that casket,” Cantemir pointed to the one sitting on his desk. “Open it,” he said when Panait came with it, “I am too weak.” When the box was open, Cantemir took out the paper sitting on the top, which Codrin had brought him two days ago. “Read it,” he gave the paper to Verenius. “Read it aloud.”

  Verenius complied and read quickly until he arrived at the last sentence. He finished the letter in his head, and remained silent, trying to buy some time.

  “Did you lose your voice, Verenius?”

  “Aron offered two hundred galbeni to kill you,” Verenius said quietly.

  “He could not do that without Maud’s permission.”

  “You have no proof of that.”

  “At least you have a proof that some Sages try to kill Sages, even a Master Sage as I was then. This was the third attempt on my life. The assassins hired in that letter failed, and yesterday we had another attempt, just when our dear Drusila stormed our palace during the night. Both people who attacked me were competent, and they were able to vanish without a trace.”

  “You are wounded and in pain,” Drusila said. “You try to find guilt where there is none. Let’s wait until your head is clear.”

  “Oh, but my head is clear, Drusila. I wonder, though, how clear your head was when you told us that story about me and Codrin sending Vio away. Me and Codrin. How could I perform such a delicate task with a man I’ve never met? A man who had never been to Arad. What was in your mind, Drusila?”

  “He was in my vision,” Drusila said.

  “He was in your invented story, nothing else. You tried to weaken Arad by kill
ing its Secretary. Verenius, please register my complaint,” Cantemir said, glaring at the Primus Itinerant.

  “We are going nowhere,” Drusila said, her voice flat, her knuckles white from the strength of her grip against the hard wood of her chair. Luckily for her, her hand was hidden by the folds of her dress.

  “We did not go far, but...” Orban shrugged. “Drusila, you have an hour to leave Arad. Don’t try to return without my permission. Even though I will give it, next time you should come during the day. Let Cantemir rest. Jara, please come with me.”

  They walked in silence for a while until Orban asked, “Would you enter into a plot to make Vio run away?”