The Assassin and the Knight

by Rick Bonogofsky

  “That’s the one we’ve been getting odd electrical readings from, right?” Jake guessed.

  “Exactly. We sent in some of our human scientists to get more information for us. They found a literal hole in the air. More than dead magic, it was a pocket of nothing at all. It was as if there was a hole in reality.”

  Jake’s wide eyes said more than his words could ever convey, and his mouth hung open in shock. “A hole in reality?”

  Montgomery nodded. “To be honest, even I am having a problem wrapping my head around it. The scientists’ instruments picked up absolutely nothing. It’s completely mind boggling! The emptiness of outer space, I can understand. I can even understand the emptiness of a void created by magic, or even dead magic itself. But I simply cannot fathom complete and utter nothingness. But, that’s not even the strangest part. The weird part was that the scientists could hear faint sounds in the area.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Adrian sat in a meeting with what was left of the council. Six council members were all that remained after the incident in the throne room, and Zhun had taken care of the others who were leaders in the rebellion. Only three remained who were loyal to Adrian. Zudas, Kizrack, and Drascus sat around the large table, discussing the events of the past few weeks. It was not looking good. Rebels were attacking every farm and homestead outside the city of Laarsa, and refugees were flooding in by the hundreds. It seemed the attacks were coming from every angle and with a ferocity Adrian had not anticipated. While his soldiers did all they could to hold back the tide of enemies, they were simply outmatched. They followed their orders to accompany the refugees back to Laarsa, but there were still losses. The only positive note Adrian could see was that the city was better defended now that the bulk of the army was back within its gates. He was forced to admit he was not entirely prepared for the sheer number of victims, and was quickly realizing that once the siege of Laarsa began, he was going to have to come up with a way to get food and supplies to his people. There were still some locations outside the city that were loyal to him, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before they were taken as well. He had set up a plan with the magicians in Laarsa to teleport away and find safe places to gather the needed supplies to last through the coming siege. Very few of the magicians came back, and those who did brought news of destruction and despair.

  “Let’s send them to Earth,” Drascus had suggested. “Surely there are ample food stores there.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Adrian said. “We’ll have to be sure to hide our presence while we’re there, but it should prove to be a viable resource. Our people will have to adapt to the different diet, but they’ll survive.”

  “What about authorizing the use of more deadly means to defend ourselves?” Zudas asked pointedly.

  That was a point the councilman had brought up on several other occasions, but it was also one that Adrian felt uneasy to agree to. While the angel weapons would typically guarantee a kill if a demon was mortally wounded, demonic steel was also effective in killing Hell’s people. Most demons could heal from a wound inflicted by a demonic weapon, but all would succumb to being decapitated or disemboweled. “I am not going to arm our men with the angel weapons,” Adrian muttered. “If they get into the wrong hands, our own men will be slaughtered, and I will not tolerate that.”

  “Our men are being slaughtered anyway!” Zudas countered. “We might as well outfit them with a means to win this war! Give them an advantage over the enemy.”

  “As tempting as that may be,” Adrian growled, growing less patient with each attempt at changing his mind, “I still do not think it is worth the risk. I’ve already sent more soldiers than I’m comfortable with to guard the caches on Earth.” He nearly mentioned the weapons stored in the vault under the tower’s bottom floor, but thought better of it. The fewer people who knew about it, the better. Only Vincent, Staci, and Adrian knew about the vault, as it was a closely guarded secret of Dante’s. Staci felt it was important to tell her sons about it once the war began to gain momentum. She said it was the biggest secret Dante had and entrusted her with it shortly after she became queen. Adrian was still trying to decide whether he would tell anyone else about it.

  “Then summon them back with the weapons in hand,” Zudas continued. “That way we have them back here to defend our home, and we will have the advantage we need. Think about it; that would be an extra thousand soldiers defending Laarsa and its citizens.”

  Adrian stood from his seat and opened his mouth to forcibly decline, but he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door to the war room. A messenger imp hobbled in, holding its tail nervously. He sensed the hostility in the room and was hesitant to offer his news.

  “What is it?” Adrian asked sharply.

  “More refugees spotted from the gate, milord,” the imp stammered. “There’s a large force coming after them as well.”

  “Send out some men to help them get through the gate,” Adrian ordered. “I’ll be down there shortly to lend what aid I can.” With an angry glare at Zudas, the king followed the imp out the door.

  At the gate, Adrian stood at the head of a small contingent of soldiers with his sword drawn. Vincent stood at his side as they waited for the gates to open. The stone slabs slid over the smooth entryway into the city and the assembled force made their way out, filing out single file, then in larger groups as the gates opened wider. The refugees were only a few hundred yards out by now, and the enemy was not far behind them. The forces of Laarsa split into two columns on either side of the gates to offer the refugees a corridor of relative safety as they marched toward the enemy. Adrian, at the head of the group on the right, looked to his left at Vincent. The angel looked back at his brother and nodded. This was nothing new for them, but they also knew the risks of failure. All of Adrian’s bravado was gone, replaced by a burning anger deep in the pit of his stomach. It was obvious to Vincent, who was feeling more grimly determined than angry. While Adrian was locked away in meeting after meeting, Vincent was on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers, defending their home. He understood that Adrian wanted nothing more than to be out in the bloodshed with him, but his kingly duties kept him away. The burning light in Adrian’s eyes was only a small indication of his anger at being unable to take real action in his people’s defense.

  “Woe to his enemies,” Vincent whispered to himself, “and woe to any who stand in his way this day.” It was something he had said on numerous occasions when he had seen that particular light in his brother’s eyes. This time, however, the anger within Adrian was beginning to scare Vincent. With that anger usually came some sort of bravado to cover it up. Adrian used to mask his murderous energy with laughter and humor. Now it was plain for all to see. Being king was already wearing on him, and his patience was fraying.

  But the men did not see it that way. They simply saw that their king was joining them on the battlefield, and they were emboldened by it. They shouted and banged their swords and spears on their shields, causing a steady clamor. In the distance, the enemy forces seemed to slow their march, and the refugees gained ground. Just as the first of the fleeing demons and devils passed the first ranks of Laarsa’s army, the steady march became a trot, then an all-out run. The defenders ran past the refugees and closed ranks when the last one past. Now the enemy was faced with a rushing wave of soldiers, all slamming their shields and shouting. By the time the two armies met, the enemy forces were completely demoralized and had started to turn and run. Adrian’s forces crashed into them like a tidal wave and the first ranks were decimated within that instant. Swords sliced through armor and spears impaled bodies, and the rushing tide of soldiers moved over the corpses. Adrian cut a swathe of carnage in his path, venting the anger that had been building over the course of the war. His wrath caused him to wade through the enemy soldiers like a farmer cutting through wheat. He ducked a sword coming in from his left and stabbed his sword into that demon. Another demon came in from the oppos
ite side and Adrian had to lean backward to avoid being run through with a spear. With a quick jab, Adrian perforated the demon’s windpipe, sending the enemy soldier to the ground with a wheezing gurgle. Adrian continued his momentum and faced off against another soldier. This devil stepped forward with his axe leading, swinging wildly. While the haphazard swings missed the agile assassin, the backswing took out a couple of other soldiers in the fray. Adrian sidestepped and ducked under the swings and struck when he saw an opening. His sword sliced through the devil’s armor and severed the muscle underneath. The devil’s guts fell through the new opening, but the king was already moving past his victim before the organs ever reached the blood soaked dirt. After killing through the enemy’s ranks, Adrian finally made his way to the commanding officer.

  “Hello, traitor,” Adrian muttered. His blood spattered face was a mask of barely contained rage. His eyes burned with a hateful light as he glared at the former councilor, who stood in a defensive stance. He was clearly unnerved by Adrian’s arrival, but remained outwardly calm.

  “Adrian,” the demon greeted.

  The rustling of metal armor caused Adrian to look over his shoulder. Vincent had just finished off an enemy soldier and was joining his brother while the battle raged on.

  “I suppose you want to fight this out?” Adrian asked. “It’s your call, traitor. Die here on the battlefield at the end of my sword, or die on the executioner’s block. Either way, your soul is damned to the Pits.”

  The enemy demon squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest and drew his huge sword.

  “Here on the battlefield it is, then,” Adrian breathed. He slid his feet shoulder width apart and raised his own sword. His weight shifted to the balls of his feet on instinct. As he locked eyes with the demon commander, he felt as if time had slowed. His opponent was all that existed in his eyes, and nothing else could distract him. What seemed like an eternity later, the enemy commander shot forward, swinging his immense sword with all of his considerable might. Adrian easily stepped to one side of the overhead attack and brought his sword around to cut at the commander’s forearm. The demon was faster than Adrian gave him credit for, and jerked his arm away, leaving his other hand to keep his grip on his sword. He ripped the blade out of the ground and slashed at Adrian. Again, Adrian stepped out of the way and countered with another attack. This time, he did not take the big demon’s speed for granted and sliced his bicep with a quick cut. Another instant later, Adrian stepped around the commander and slashed his back, cutting deep into his spine. The demon howled in pain and fell to his knees as Adrian calmly walked back around to face him.

  “What I do now,” the king said quietly to his helpless foe, “I do for my kingdom.” With those words, he raised his sword and brought it down on the enemy commander’s head, splitting it in half. He wrenched the blade free and made another slash horizontally, effectively severing the top half of the demon’s head from the rest of the body. As the commander died, Adrian pulled a black crystal from his pocket and held it out. The stone glowed with a crimson inner light and pulled the commander’s soul into its depths. It was a simple holding cell, meant to be used until the soul could be transferred to the Pits. With the soul imprisoned, Adrian placed the crystal back into his pocket. Wiping the blood from his sword, he turned to face his brother. The whole fight lasted no more than a few seconds.

  Within a few minutes, only Laarsa’s defenders were left standing. They stood among the corpses of other demons and devils, a sight that left Adrian feeling more unsettled than satisfied. He held onto the positive thought that he and his army had helped the innocent refugees into Laarsa. Vincent approached Adrian and placed a comforting hand in his shoulder. “I know this is not ideal, brother,” the angel said, “but we did well today. My men and I will mop up here. Go and take care of the refugees.”

  Adrian nodded silently, still angry, but with a new purpose. With him at the helm directing relief efforts, he knew that he could help sway the hearts and minds of his people, creating a stronger support for his reign. His hope was to show the rebels, who were undoubtedly watching, that he was worthy of their respect.

  After the chaos of battle and dealing with the new refugees, Adrian took a moment to sit back and let his mind rest. The day was drawing itself out, and he was beginning to feel drained of energy. He knew it was all in his mind, but the feeling was there nonetheless. He waved a greeting to some soldiers as they passed, and he offered them a congratulatory smile for their fine work on the battlefield. They graciously nodded their thanks and continued on their path.

  “That was an easier battle than almost any we’ve fought,” Adrian heard one of them say to the others. “It was over faster than I thought it would be.”

  Adrian smiled as he heard the words. It told him that the soldiers were enjoying high morale, and they were confident in what they were doing.

  Vincent sat down next to him, pulling him away from his thoughts. “That was well fought, brother,” the angel said, clapping Adrian on the shoulder.

  “Thanks,” the king replied. “I’m not as angry now as I was earlier. I think killing some traitors helped.”

  “It helps the soldiers, too,” Vincent stated. “They seemed particularly happy to be out on the battlefield rather than behind the city walls.”

  “As much as I would like to have them march upon the enemy,” Adrian said, “We don’t actually have a specific location to march to. From what the scouts could gather, the enemy seems to be popping up out of the ground. Hell’s riddled with tunnels that honeycomb the entire area. We don’t know where they’re coming from.”

  “True,” Vincent nodded. “Plus, we’re getting fewer scouts returning every day. We don’t know if they’re being killed or if they’re switching sides.”

  “And that is exactly why I won’t give out the angel weapons. Too many traitors in Hell…”

  “No need to hand over weapons than could kill all of your people.”

  “Our people,” Adrian reminded. “You may not be a demon, but you’re one of us, no matter what. In fact, I feel like you’re the bravest one on the field whenever you and the soldiers do go out to fight. Any one of these demons could strike you down, and you wouldn’t be able to shake it off like the rest of us. That’s why the soldiers respect you. You have more to lose than they do.”

  “They have just as much to lose as I do,” Vincent corrected. “I’m no better than any of them.”

  “Neither of us are,” Adrian agreed. “I suppose that’s what makes all of this that much harder. If we lose, these people lose their homes to the rebels. A hostile takeover will cause a lot of damage to their way of life. The survivors will probably be slaughtered for siding with us.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Vincent sighed. “We’d best not lose, then,”

  Just then, a cry rang out from deeper within the city, and was joined by several others. The sounds of battle rose into the darkening sky.

  “Now what?” Adrian spat as he rose to his feet and began running toward the sounds. Sword drawn, he ran through the streets, followed closely by Vincent. By the time they reached the source of the commotion, hundreds of enemy soldiers were engaged with the Laarsa’s army. Many of the city’s guards lay on the ground, killed by the enemy. The rebels were dressed as the refugees that were just allowed into the city.

  “No,” Vincent gasped, coming to the same conclusion as Adrian. “We let them in!” He drew his sword and rushed into the fray.

  Adrian was dumbfounded. How could he have let this happen? This would have been too easy to spot, had he just been paying attention. The battle outside the gates was far too easy to have not been anything but a distraction. He cursed himself for a fool and joined the melee. He swung a wide arc, taking out three demons at a time. Their numbers were great, but he cut through them with every swing. He blocked an incoming attack and countered with an upward slash that opened the enemy from his stomach to his throat. The demon died in a bloody heap. Another dem
on who was advancing on Adrian from behind the now dead rebel slipped in the gore and was impaled by the king’s sword before he could regain his footing. A cry from his right caught his attention, and he saw Vincent take a sword to his ribs. Blood poured from the wound and the angel fell to one knee. Adrian rushed to his side and blocked the follow up attack. He slashed at the oncoming demons and kept them at bay while he pulled his brother to his feet.

  “Come on, little brother,” Adrian said through his gritted teeth. “Let’s get you out of here. Soldiers! To me! Your general is wounded!”

  A group of Laarsa’s soldiers broke off from the fray to cover Adrian and Vincent’s escape as they made for safety.

  “It’s not mortal,” Vincent hissed between pained gasps. “I’ll survive.” He coughed up a gout of blood.

  “You’re lying to keep me calm, brother,” Adrian replied. “It isn’t working so well.” They slowly made their way into one of the nearby buildings, where a family of devils were hiding. They screamed in fear as the door was kicked open, but quieted once they saw the king and his brother. Acting quickly, the mother ushered the children into another room while the father cleared the table. Adrian nodded his thanks and heaved Vincent onto the table. The armored knight grunted from the jolt, but otherwise took it in stride. Adrian inspected the wound and swore. He could hear a faint wheezing sound.

  “Your lung’s been cut,” he stated grimly.

  “Explains my inability to breathe,” Vincent muttered with a wince.

  “I’m rubbing off on you…” Adrian sighed. He looked closer at the wound and shook his head. “This is beyond my ability to heal. We need to get you to the tower.”

  “I might not make it that far, to be honest,” Vincent wheezed. He tried sitting up, but lost the strength for it partway through. “Leave me here. Get to the tower and raise the defenses.”