Six demons rose to their feet and stood at attention when Adrian swung the door open. The master assassin looked each of them in the eye and placed his hands on his hips, pushing his jacket open and back. The motion split the scab on his chest and it oozed slightly, eliciting a tiny wince from Adrian. His demons either did not notice, or simply made sure to not let Adrian know they had noticed. They eagerly awaited his orders.
“We have a job,” Adrian stated.
CHAPTER THREE
Adrian walked through the packed streets of New Giza, Egypt, and tried to ignore the constant din of the humans meandering between the bazaar’s shops. He consciously thumped his left hand on his thigh as he walked, trying and failing to recreate the familiar feeling of his beloved sword tapping out its usual cadence. His right hand was clenched into a tight fist, knuckles white under his cloth gloves. Being without his sword so far away from his home, Adrian was uneasy and feeling increasingly agitated. The never-ending crowd of humans blocking a proper view of his surroundings certainly did not help. For all he knew, an assassin could be hiding behind any number of pedestrians. That was how Adrian would have planned it. But his father had expressly forbidden any but the most trusted of Adrian’s followers to go to Earth.
The young demon grimaced and continued his walk, his tan and white clothes helping him blend perfectly with the local populace. New Giza was nowhere near the sprawling metropolis that Manhattan had been rebuilt to be, but there were thousands of humans roaming the small city, leaving Adrian without the use of his limited magical abilities. Once again, as had happened several times in the history of Earth, humans had forgotten about everything that did not fit into their own meager, scientific understanding of their enormous world. In just a little over a century, they had all forgotten the truth of the war that had destroyed their world. They forgot about the existence of demons and angels, of vampires and werewolves, of demigods and monsters. Even the dragons hid themselves away from the world, not wanting to be dissected and experimented on. They disappeared from all but legend, and scant few even believed they existed. All the humans believed in anymore were their false gods and their limited understanding of science. Anyone trying to profess the truth of their world was thought of as a lunatic, or a doomsayer, and were summarily dismissed. Therefore, all demons were ordered that anything magical was to be hidden from the humans, by decree of King Dante, which left Adrian on foot among the simple masses.
The bazaar gave way to a relatively open area of New Giza, allowing the young assassin some much needed breathing room. He kept his crimson eyes shaded as he scanned the area for any possible hiding places for enemies.
“Too open,” he muttered to himself. With a resigned sigh, he kept to the shadows on the outskirts of the central square, acting as if he were a simple human perusing the shop stalls. He slipped into an alleyway, away from the humans, and quickly glanced around. No followers, no casual onlookers, and no obvious hiding places. Satisfied, Adrian slipped a long, thin metal rod from a pocket and dragged it across the outer wall of the building on his right as he walked further into the alley. When he came to the place he was looking for, he placed the tip of the rod against a brick and slowly pushed it into the stone. About halfway in, the rod stuck. Glancing around again, Adrian muttered an incantation and gave the rod a quarter turn to the left, then a half turn to the right. He pulled the rod out of the stone wall and slipped it back into his pocket while the wall slid inward, then lowered, revealing a hidden passage into the building. Nodding, the assassin stepped into the passage and pressed a button, waiting for the stone door to shut. Here, away from the prying eyes of humans, he summoned a glowing ball of light and allowed it to illuminate the hallway. He walked down the passage, following a slight downward slope, for nearly an hour, passing stone depictions of demons and devils along the way. These statues would come to life if any being not born of Hell entered the passage. They would brutally murder any who dared to enter uninvited.
Adrian walked until he spotted a faint glow at the end of the passage and let his light ball fade away into nothingness. Four demonic knights stood guard at a large iron door. They stood to attention when they saw Adrian come into view.
“Prince Adrian,” one knight saluted. Adrian recognized him from the group of knights that had accompanied Vincent during the ambush on the vampires.
“At ease, men,” Adrian smiled. “I am here on business from my father.”
The knights exchanged nervous looks. They were commanded directly by Vincent, not Adrian, but if the king had sent the master assassin, surely something was amiss.
“Routine inspection,” Adrian lied.
“If you’ll pardon my asking, lord,” the guard captain began, “but how is your presence routine?”
Adrian nodded and grinned, indicating the knight was correct in asking the question. “Not routine, then,” he replied. “My father has asked me to personally check on the caches on Earth. I am visiting them one by one, thoroughly inspecting the wards and guard placements.”
The knights visibly calmed and nodded, but the captain still looked confused. “My lord,” he asked, “Your brother was here not three days ago with extra men. If you will pardon my boldness, but why would he not inspect the cache while he was here? Also, what is happening that requires the doubling up on guards?”
Adrian shrugged, responding with, “My brother and I follow orders just like you men. If we were authorized to tell you what was going on, we would. Well, my brother would. He’s in charge of you lot, not me.”
The guard captain quieted, still harboring questions, but content to follow his orders in silence. Adrian was glad for the cease of inquiries. This was the fiftieth cache of old war weapons he had visited while on Earth, and he was beginning to feel like he was close to finding an enemy hiding away someplace unexpected. He thought of summoning his sword from its extradimensional hiding place, but thought better of it. Arming himself on what appeared to be an inspection would only make the guards tense. If their leader seemed to expect something, so would they, and Adrian needed as much calm as possible. His nerves were frayed enough as it was, especially after his close shave with death during the ambush on the invading vampires.
The assassin walked past the guards and opened the iron door. The squealing hinges hurt his ears, but it passed quickly. Inside were racks of swords, axes, bows, arrows, and countless other forms of weaponry. The ones Adrian was most wary of were the firearms. These were made of the simple metal the humans had first crafted them with, but they were specially designed to fire the ammunition made for killing demons. The guns ranged from simple pistols to automatic assault rifles to long range sniper rifles. Calibers ranged from small, imp-killing pellets to massive artillery shells meant for taking out the true behemoths of Hell. These weapons made Adrian shudder involuntarily. All his life, even through the terrible troubles that plagued Hell all those years ago, nothing was able to kill him. He had even taken a sword through the heart and was fine. His hand came unconsciously to his chest, where the wound from the arrow had left a dark scar. It still stung whenever he stretched those muscles. He felt mildly annoyed that it was never disclosed to him what these caches held, but the newfound knowledge only made him feel more ill at ease than before. However, the amount of secrecy behind these hidden weapon caches still impressed him.
Nothing was out of place, not even the heavy layer of dust that had settled over the decades. The only set of footprints leading in were his own, and he could not smell any traces of lingering magic, telling him no one had floated in to steal anything. Nodding his contentment, Adrian turned and shut the heavy iron door, magically locking it. The knights resumed their watch as the assassin casually strolled back through the long passage to the city. As soon as he had slid the brick wall back in place in the alley, Adrian’s electronic communication device chirped, attracting his attention. He placed the speaker bud in his ear and plugged in the small microphone.
“Yes?” he asked, opening
the comm link with one of his lieutenants.
“I’ve found something odd, sir,” the subordinate demon replied.
“Where?” Adrian demanded.
Dante stood hunched over the table in his war room, shaking his head in annoyance.
“You know it to be true, my lord,” a demon advisor stated.
Dante looked up at him, his face holding an annoyed expression. “I know, but it’s just too absurd. Why would they want it all back? Why now? It makes no sense!”
“I know, my lord,” the advisor bowed apologetically. “But the missive was clear on the intent. Lord Amun-Ra has asked for the weapons to be returned. They were gifts made for and given to the humans in dealing with our kind during the war. He says there is no reason Hell should be in possession of the weapons.”
The king clenched his fist in frustration and bounced it on the war table. He knew the wrong answer could potentially lead to war, but he was not willing to relinquish weapons that had the power to kill his people. “Send a reply, Zudas,” he commanded. “I wish to meet with Amun-Ra in person. On Earth. Three weeks from now, in New Manhattan. Neutral ground.”
“Yet, that is also where the war truly began,” the advisor quipped.
Dante shot him a baleful glare and the advisor ran out of the war room to do as his king had commanded. Once the advisor was gone, Dante relaxed. His shoulders slumped and his breath came out in a heavy sigh. His advisors had all been around for at least a couple of centuries, most were far older than the king, and they each felt they would make better leaders than him. None said so out loud, but their occasional patronizing tones spoke volumes. They failed to realize that it took more than experience to rule a kingdom. It took the will to make the hard decisions, and the ability to know when to go to war and when to make peace. He would keep the peace between Heaven and Hell, no matter how much strain that involved.
A knock came at the door, causing Dante to turn to see who it was. The queen stepped into the room, a concerned look on her face.
“Finally, someone I want to see,” Dante smiled.
Staci’s concerned look shifted into a smile, but the worry remained in her eyes. “I only ever find you in here when there is bad news,” she replied.
Dante shrugged. “I suppose that’s why it’s called the war room,” he muttered.
“What is going on, my love?” Staci asked, approaching Dante to place her hand on his cheek. She purposely ignored his sarcasm, knowing he was under more stress lately than usual. Staci knew that his ire was not directed at her.
Dante leaned into the soft touch, glad for the support. “Heaven sent a messenger to me today. Seems Lord Amun-Ra has heard that one of our caches has been plundered. He heard of the attack on our border and the fact that the vampires had demon-killing weapons originally forged in Heaven. He wants all of the weapons that we still have returned to his kingdom to keep them from getting into the wrong hands again.”
“But if Heaven has the weapons, then they’d be armed to kill demons,” Staci replied. “What’s to say they won’t attack as well?”
“The fact that Amun-Ra is technically related to me,” Dante muttered. “The only reason these weapons exist is because there was that war between Heaven and Hell all those years ago. And they were forged specifically for human hands. The angels have always had their own demon-killing weapons, but no human can withstand the power within those weapons. But, since these weapons can be wielded by humans, that means any creature may use them.”
“Isn’t that a bit of an unfair advantage?” Staci asked. “I mean, I know that Heaven stepped in to defend humanity during the war, but surely there is still peace between the kingdoms. Isn’t there?”
Dante shrugged, leaning on the war table again. “There is, for now, but it is a strained peace. Even during my own reign, I’ve been looked at as if I would start a war and continue where my grandfather left off. Few believe that my parents fought against Hell and died defending Earth.”
“I see,” Staci sighed, lifting herself to sit on the table next to Dante. “But even so, why do they get special weapons? And I thought you had good rapport with Amun-Ra and Death.”
“I do, and they’re not the only weapons, love,” Dante smiled. “Each and every soldier of Hell forges his or her own weapon from a drop of blood. That’s how I made mine, and how Adrian made his. They train with their own weapons from the first day, and master the combat style of their own souls. True, it gets a little chaotic during training and then in combat, but we demons and devils are beings of chaos, whereas angels are beings born of order and structure. We as beings complement each other and balance the scales. Sure, their weapons can kill us, but ours can just as easily kill them. The fact that Heaven forged weapons for the humans simply means we were in the wrong, and they wanted to give the humans the opportunity to defend their home world.”
Staci nodded in understanding. “So in reality, we should probably give the humans the weapons,” she surmised.
“That would alert them to our existence, though,” Dante countered. “That never ends well. As weak as the humans are, they are incredibly resourceful. They have secrets locked away that can send demons back to Hell, and I hear it isn’t an entirely healthy experience. Most demons sent back this way end up in the Pits. Plus, the other dwellers of Earth can overpower the humans far too easily. They could steal the weapons and we’d be right back at square one all over again.”
“But we puny little humans have ways of fighting off those other creatures,” Staci purred. “Werewolves get a silver bullet to the heart. Vampires get staked and beheaded. Zombies get… really, really messed up.”
Dante smiled at her, shaking his head. “And Bigfoot?” he teased.
“You know Bigfoot is a myth.”
“Is he?” he smiled. “You know that yetis are real. Sure, they typically stick to the arctic, but Bigfoot is just a yeti that prefers the forests of North America.”
“Oh? Fine,” Staci mocked. “How do you kill one of them, then?”
“I’ve found disemboweling them does the trick.”
Dante’s flippant tone caught Staci off guard. “Huh… what else is out there?”
“Too much. Suffice to say, humans are not as safe and cozy as they like to believe. They may have ways of killing the other creatures, but remember; humans have stopped believing in the supernatural again.”
Staci nodded, and slipped off the table. “Well, my supernatural king,” she said, pulling on his arm to lead him out of the room, “your supernaturally immortal queen requires your attention.”
“Does my eternal work never end?” he grinned.
Vincent walked along the outskirts of the training hall, overseeing his remaining knights’ drills. Their precise movements hid their chaotic natures, and they held their ranks impressively. The angel had done very well in training the demons to hold structure, and he was greatly respected for it. The fact that he had earned the respect of each and every demon and devil in his service certainly helped. He knew the names of every knight and soldier under his command. One demoness always managed to catch his eye, however. Anna kept in line expertly and her movements seemed more controlled than the others. She moved with a grace that should have been impossible under the heavy plate armor every knight wore.
The commander called a halt, and dismissed the knights to rest. They dispersed and the commander approached Vincent.
“You’re doing good work, captain,” Vincent applauded, “as always.”
“Thank you, my lord,” the demon knight bowed. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” Vincent nodded. “I wanted to see how the barracks are holding up after I sent so many of your knights to Earth.”
“We are still fully covered on all points, my lord.”
“Good,” Vincent replied. “I do, however, need more of your men. We are to build an outpost at the border to Hell and Earth, and I need more knights to assume a post there.”
The demon smiled and exten
ded his arm to indicate the resting knights. “Take your pick, my lord. They live to serve you and the king. We shall manage here without the ones you take. With the borders safe, the tower will be that much safer and easier to protect.”
“Thank you, captain,” Vincent said, clapping the demon on the shoulder. “But remember, I still need every knight and soldier alert at all times. We are well protected against full armies, but not quite as well from a single, stealthy intruder.”
“Of course, my lord,” the demon nodded.
Vincent turned toward the knights and cleared his throat. “Knights!” he shouted. Every knight stood to attention without hesitation. “I need volunteers,” Vincent continued. “We have been asked to fill a new outpost at the border to Earth, and I want some of the best knights there. See your captain for the new orders. Dismissed!”
The knights went back to rest, excitedly talking amongst themselves. A new assignment meant the possibility of action, or at the very least, a change of scenery. Vincent smiled and turned back to the captain, handing the demon a scroll of parchment.
“Here are the new orders. Collect enough to fill the garrison and send them out immediately. King Dante commands it. Keep up the good work.”
The captain bowed and began walking among the knights.
“Knight-commander?” came a voice behind the angel.
Vincent turned to see Anna approaching him. “Yes?”
“I wanted to see about getting reassigned, sir,” she replied. Her red eyes pleaded with his own brown orbs, and he felt his heart skip a beat.
“Why is that?” he asked, forcing a calm composure. “You have only just come back from guard duty on Earth. Don’t you want to rest at home a while before heading out of the tower again?”
“I have rested enough,” she shrugged. Her heavy plate armor shifted with the motion, and the sound of metal plates rustling together seemed to accent her words.
The Assassin and the Knight Page 3