They were good questions and thinking about them kept them all occupied until they crossed the border into Auxland. Albian had yet to enter the country, having continued to travel in an easterly direction when Tor and the others took the road that headed north. The closer Tor got to his brother, the greater the desire to protect him became and nobody objected when he suggested they take the fastest and most direct route to the capital.
The journey was tedious, with nothing of interest happening. The only exception was when they stopped at an inn one morning and requested rooms for the day. The inn-keeper gave Tor an odd look and the Prince was about to explain the reasons for him wanting rooms for the day instead of the night when he realised that he recognised the man.
Patrick, too, thought his face rang a bell, but it was not until his daughter appeared that he realised why. “It is a good job Cirren is not with us,” he whispered to Ellen.
“You look familiar,” the inn-keeper was saying to Tor, who was embarrassed to have to admit the reason why.
“We have stayed here before. My younger brother was with us then and you caught him with your daughter.”
“I remember,” the man said in a menacing tone. “Where is the scoundrel?”
“With his wife, I am happy to say. He got married last year.”
The daughter was listening in and the look of disappointment that crossed her face was soon replaced with one of expectation when she spotted Patrick. Patrick recognised the look and did not hesitate before dashing her hopes.
“I, too, am married,” he lied as he placed his arm around Ellen’s waist and pulled her close to him. Brin and Sam smirked at each other, but did not contradict him. The girl made her excuses and left the room. They did not see her again, much to Patrick’s relief.
When they finally arrived in Tennel, they were shocked by the number of guards stationed on all of the roads into the city. Cirren and Tibia had obviously received Patrick’s warning and were taking it very seriously. They were questioned as to their reasons for visiting the city and the wagon was thoroughly searched. Luckily they had arrived after the sun had set so they were able to open the coffin to show the guards that nothing was hidden inside.
They were searched for a second time when they entered the palace grounds. They were not permitted into the building until Commander Galloway had given permission, by which time Cirren and Tibia had been notified of their arrival and were waiting in one of the reception rooms for them.
Cirren was overjoyed to see his brother and Tibia made everyone welcome. The ladies soon departed in search of the baths, leaving the royal couple alone with the men.
“We saw a friend of yours on our way here,” Seth said casually to Cirren as he sipped a glass of wine.
“Really? Who was that?” the Prince asked, picking up a small cake and taking a bite.
“An inn-keeper’s daughter. Her father remembered you. At least he remembered threatening to kill you when he caught the two of you together.”
Seth burst out laughing as Cirren began to choke. “Do I really want to know what you are talking about?” Tibia asked.
“Probably not,” Seth told her and, much to Cirren’s relief, she asked no more about it.
It was getting late by the time the ladies returned and informed the men that if they did not go and bathe they would be sleeping alone, so the Queen and her husband bid their guests a good night and went to their bed chamber, where Tibia grilled Cirren as to exactly what he had been doing with the inn-keeper’s daughter. Hoping to take her mind off it, he decided to show her instead of explaining. The tactic worked well and the subject was not brought up again, at least not until the next morning when Tibia decided she was in the mood for more fun.
“About that inn-keeper’s daughter,” she said as soon as Cirren woke up and he suddenly found that he was not sure whether he wanted to kill Seth or thank him.
The following afternoon, as everyone was sitting with the royal couple once more, discussing their adventures with the assassin, the conversation was interrupted by the butler.
“There is a man at the door wishing to speak with Prince Cirren,” he informed the Queen. “He says he is an old friend.”
“Did he give a name?” Tibia asked.
“Yes, your Majesty. He said his name is Albian.”
Chapter 27
“What is he playing at?” Nosmas asked. “Why would he announce his arrival? It makes no sense.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know that we know,” Sam suggested. “Once he had assigned the assassin his mission, they may not have kept in contact. He probably doesn’t know he is dead, or that we know who hired him.”
“She has a good point,” Brin agreed. “He may not even be aware that we are here. He is probably hoping to see Cirren alone.”
“What do you want me to do?” Cirren asked.
Tor thought for a moment. “Agree to meet with him,” he finally said. “But make it an official meeting. Make him go to the throne room where it will be evident you are seeing him in your capacity as the Queen’s husband as opposed to a Prince of Remeny. From what I remember, there is a curtained off area behind the thrones, so we can monitor the meeting without being seen.”
“I think I should be there too,” Tibia said, but was overruled. As Queen, she was the highest authority in the land, but when her husband, brother-in-law and everyone else in the room said it was a bad idea, she meekly accepted their assessment.
Nosmas insisted that Quartilla also make herself scarce and was pleasantly surprised when she did not argue. River willingly joined the two ladies when they left the room. Brin glanced towards Sam. “Do not even think about it,” she said before he could open his mouth.
Those who remained made their way to the throne room and positioned themselves out of sight as Cirren seated himself on his throne. It felt strange occupying it while the one next to him remained empty, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He nodded his head to one of his servants, who opened the door to allow Albian to enter.
He strode up to the dais upon which the two thrones sat, getting closer than protocol dictated before bowing low. “Your Highness,” he said in a voice that made Sam shiver. She had heard it so many times in her sleep that she knew she would never forget it. “How nice to see you again.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Cirren replied. “You are taking a big risk, coming here. There is a price on your head in Remeny and I am pretty sure that I can make it apply here as well.”
“That is why I came,” Albian said, pulling back his hood to reveal his bald head. “It was not my fault. I was under the influence of a very powerful dark wizard. I swear I had no choice. You have to believe me.” As soon as he finished he prostrated himself on the floor as though begging for forgiveness.
“Cut the theatrics,” Cirren snapped. “I know you are here to kill me.”
“Kill, your Highness?” Albian said in fake confusion, raising his head. “Why would I want to kill you?”
“Tor caught your assassin,” Cirren continued. “He told us everything before he was allowed to kill himself.”
Self-doubt momentarily flashed across Albian’s face. This conversation was not going the way he had planned. “Who told you that?” he asked as he regained his feet. “Whoever it was must be lying.”
“I told him,” Tor said loudly as he moved out from behind the curtain. Albian took an involuntary step backwards as Nosmas, Patrick and Ria also came into view, closely followed by Seth and Dal. Brin, Sam, Ellen and Grimmel appeared on the other side of the thrones and moved to block the door. Brin had his bow drawn and pointed at Albian, who was shocked to find that he was surrounded.
“How many did he get?” he asked curiously. He was surprised when Patrick actually answered.
“A fair few. Most I do not know. Of those who travelled with us, only Torrick, Liselle and Ban.”
“And Fajfar,” Dal said, unable to keep the glee out of her voice.
“And my mother,�
�� Nosmas said menacingly. “I lost both of my parents thanks to your stupid quest and it is about time you paid.”
Albian laughed. “You cannot do anything to me, you stupid man. All I have to do is snap my fingers and I can disappear.” As a demonstration of his abilities, he whispered the words of the relevant spell and the sound of him clicking his fingers together echoed around the room. It was the same spell he had used to disappear from Dean’s room at the inn when he stole Tor’s father’s chain at the end of the quest, but this time nothing happened.
He tried again, but the result was the same.
“You appear to be having some problems,” Nosmas said, smiling viciously.
Albian was beginning to panic and started shouting the spell in the hope that volume would make a difference. It didn’t. “What have you done to me?” he yelled.
“Us? Nothing,” Tor said casually. “The wizard council, however, have blocked your powers. You no longer have the ability to do any magic.” He could not keep the smile from his face as he spoke.
“You appear to be at a disadvantage,” Patrick observed. “Personally I think surrender might be a good idea, under the circumstances.”
“Never,” Albian spat and drew an object from his tunic. It appeared to be a plain, ordinary, earthenware pot and before anyone could react, he threw it onto the ground just in front of Tor and Nosmas. It shattered and its liquid content spread out across the floor, igniting as soon as it was exposed to the air. Those trapped behind the wall of fire it created took a few steps backwards as the heat hit them.
Albian took advantage of the momentary confusion and grabbed Sam, dragging her in front of him like a shield. He pulled a dagger from his belt and held it close to her throat.
“Sam,” Brin said calmly as Nosmas put out the flames. “You know how to get out of this. Remember what I taught you.”
“I would not advise it,” Albian said as Sam raised her foot, ready to bring it down on Albian’s. “This is no ordinary knife. I had to go all of the way to Kavern to get it. One touch against the skin is all it will take to bring about a slow painful death.”
“Yeah, right,” Ria said disdainfully.
“It is the Annalin Dagger,” Albian continued. He heard Nosmas gasp and he grinned. He knew the wizard would have heard of it.
Tor glanced at Nosmas, silently asking for an explanation. “It was created a few centuries ago by a rogue wizard who wished to take control of Thauma. He knew he would never win if he challenged the Chancellor, Annalin, so he found a more underhanded way of disposing of him. It is the only time in our history that a Chancellor has been murdered.”
“That is all very interesting,” Brin said. “But do you really think now is the time for a history lesson.”
“Relax,” Tor told him. “Sam is in no danger. At least not yet. At the moment, she is the only thing keeping Albian alive, so I do not think he is going to harm her, do you?”
Brin did not look happy, but remained silent.
“So what happened?” Seth asked Nosmas.
“The rogue wizard’s plot was uncovered and he was apprehended, but not before he had done what he set out to do. The knife was stored in a secure location, but one day it just disappeared. Nobody ever managed to figure out how.”
“I can tell you that,” Albian volunteered. His plans had gone completely wrong and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to escape, so he figured that keeping his captors talking would give him enough time to work something out.
Outwardly, he appeared to remain confident that he was still in control of the situation as he continued. “The great grandfather of a friend of mine was a thief by trade, one of the best of his time, and when he heard stories about the knife he saw it as a challenge. He never let on exactly how he managed to get his hands on it, but it became another piece in his collection.”
“Your friend married Lady Tara, I presume,” Patrick said, “and inherited the knife.” Albian nodded. “So that is why you visited her.”
Albian smiled. “She had absolutely no idea what a valuable artefact she had in her possession. She probably has not even noticed that it is gone.”
For some reason, that made Patrick smile. He had been worried that Lady Tara had lied to him about not knowing why Albian was in Kavern and he was pleased to hear that his ability to charm a woman was still as good as it used to be.
“What exactly was your plan?” Tor asked. “Why did you really come here?”
“Tor, please,” Brin said in exasperation. “Can we free Sam before you get side tracked?”
Albian ignored the elf. “To kill Cirren of course. I took a small detour to an alchemist I know who created the pot of fire liquid I threw at you.”
“But you announced your presence,” Dal said. “How did you plan on murdering the Queen’s husband and escaping from the country alive?”
“That is the clever bit,” Albian said, quite happy to brag about how intelligent he was. “The alchemist also made a poison for me. It took longer than I would have liked, but it would have been worth it. This particular poison has some unique properties. It does not kill immediately. Instead it slowly saps the victim’s strength. They become weaker and weaker until they no longer have enough energy to breathe. By the time Cirren even started to notice that anything was wrong, I would be long gone. I am sure I would have been able to convince him to offer me refreshments, then join me. He is, after all, very gullible.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tor saw his brother bristle at the insult, but ignored him. “And then I suppose you would return to Remeny, kill Brodin in the same way, then offer your sympathy to my mother, wheedling your way back into her good books and then her bed.”
“Sympathy?” Albian spat, losing his self-control. “Why would I offer sympathy? I plan on murdering that betraying bitch.” As he spoke, his hand became unsteady and the knife moved dangerously close to Sam’s skin.
“Guys,” she said in a shaky voice. “Please try not to upset the maniac with the magic knife. My life kind of depends on his hand remaining steady right now.”
“Stay calm Sam,” Brin told her. “As Tor said, there is nothing to worry about.” He was lying and they both knew it.
“You might as well put the bow down,” Albian instructed. “We all know that you are good, but there is no way you will be able to kill me before I kill your little girlfriend. You may be fast, but not that fast.” Brin said nothing, but continued to stare at Albian as though he was prey.
Albian looked around him and he noticed that Patrick and Tor were holding their swords. “Drop your weapons,” he shouted at them, “and everyone move away from the door. Sam and I are going to go for a little walk.”
He began to edge them both towards the closed door as Patrick and Tor complied with his instructions. “And if Nosmas or Ellen so much as move their lips, Sam is a dead woman.”
Nosmas mimicked sewing his lips together, an act that, under the circumstances, seemed rather sarcastic. When he felt the door at his back, Albian reached behind him with his free hand and took hold of the handle.
“You are not leaving this room,” Brin called out.
“And exactly how are you planning on stopping me?” Albian replied.
Sam looked at Brin, who was now looking at her instead of Albian. “I trust you,” she told him and before she had finished speaking, Brin released his arrow.
Everyone had been expecting him to aim for Albian’s eye, taking the kill shot as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but instead the arrow imbedded itself in his shoulder. Albian lost all feeling in his arm, making him unable to keep hold of the knife, which dropped to the ground as his hand involuntarily opened.
Sam surprised herself by not panicking. She had the foresight to kick the object across the floor and out of Albian’s reach before pulling away from him and running into Brin’s arms.
Albian clutched at his injured arm and blood poured between the fingers of his hand. Patrick and Tor both retrieve
d their swords from where they had dropped them on the floor, but there was no need. Ria reacted quickly and her knife took the former advisor to the King of Remeny in the throat before either of them could lay their hands on their discarded weapons.
Albian fell backwards and began gurgling as blood started flowing from his mouth. Grimmel picked up the Annalin dagger from where it had skidded under a chair, taking care not to touch its blade, and before anyone could stop him, he stabbed Albian in the chest.
Everyone watched in fascination as Albian convulsed once, then once again, before laying still.
“Is it over?” Dal asked.
“Yes,” Seth replied as he put his arm around his wife and pulled her close to him. “It is finally over.”
“So what are you going to do with that thing?” Grimmel asked once everyone had congregated in one of the reception rooms. Nosmas was playing with the Annalin dagger, making them all nervous.
“Destroy it, I hope,” Sam said.
“Unfortunately not,” Nosmas responded. “My brethren tried to do that a long time ago but the thing seems to be indestructible. I will return it to Thauma where hopefully the council will be able to guard it better this time.”
“Please put it away,” Brin said as Nosmas threw it into the air and caught it by the handle once more.
“Sorry,” he replied and wrapped the blade in cloth before placing it inside his tunic.
“I suggest that some of you bathe,” Tibia said, looking pointedly at Tor and her husband, “and tonight we are going to have a feast to celebrate.”
Everyone obeyed the Queen and a few hours later they were all in the dining room, waiting for the food to arrive. Even Hawk was there, though only for the company. General Lemell and Commander Galloway were also present. Between them they now controlled law and order throughout all of Auxland, under the Queen’s authority, of course, with Commander Galloway being responsible for Tennel and the personal safety of both the Queen and Cirren, while General Lemell took care of the rest of the country.
Neither had changed much since most of those present had last seen them. Lemell’s limp had become more pronounced and Galloway’s moustache was now so bushy that it was impossible for him to eat without getting it covered with food, but they were still very much the same as everyone remembered.
The Assassin Page 29