The Queen's Blade IV - Sacred Knight of the Veil

by T C Southwell

  Since they were not waiting for reinforcements, he deduced that this was the last of them. It became difficult to keep them both in sight. He had to turn his head from side to side, and he knew that one would attack in the moment when his head was turned. The dogs crouched in front of him, ready to spring, but he concentrated on the greater threat of the men. One of the dogs charged, and he whipped around to slash the beast across the chest. It recoiled, yelping, as the soldiers attacked, and the remaining dog rushed at him.

  Blade dropped into a crouch to avoid the sword that should have taken off his head. The weapon chopped into the ironwood tree behind him, and its owner tugged at it in vain. He lunged for the man's gut, but the dog crashed into him, its jaws closing on his throat. His dagger slashed the soldier's leg as he was thrust aside, then the other man's sword descended in a flashing arc. Blade stabbed the dog in the chest and rolled over to try to use it as a shield. Its weight hampered him, and the sword bounced off his chain mail, making him grunt.

  The wounded man gave up trying to tug his weapon free and picked up a fallen sword, returning to the fray as Blade struggled to dislodge the dog that worried at his throat. The animal's teeth could not penetrate the reinforced leather of his high collar, but the strength of its jaws crushed his windpipe. He stabbed it repeatedly with both daggers, and its bondsman grunted each time his blades struck home. The other man raised his sword for a killing stroke, and Blade prepared to drag the dog into the path of the descending blade with the last of his waning strength.

  A length of steel emerged from the soldier's belly, and he coughed and fell to his knees, his sword dropping from lax fingers. The dog released Blade's throat and collapsed. Gasping and shaking his head to clear the spots from his eyes, the assassin rolled away. Rising to his knees, he turned to face the last Cotti. The man fought a Knight of the Veil who staggered with exhaustion, and Blade stared at him in surprise. The Knight retreated from the Cotti's stronger strokes, barely holding his own against the younger, fresher man.

  Blade cocked his arm, waited for an opportune moment, and flung the dagger. The soldier staggered sideways as the blade impaled him through the throat, dropping his sword to clutch his neck. The Knight stepped forward and ran him through, although he was already dead, but for a little coughing and gurgling. The soldier's wounded dog whimpered and thrashed in the leaves as it died. The others continued to whine and paw at their dead companions, save for one, which lay with its muzzle resting on its friend's chest, watching him die.

  Blade sat back on his haunches and clasped his bruised ribs, where the Cotti's sword had glanced off his chain mail. The Knight sank to his knees, using his sword as a prop, then sat down and eased his legs out beside him. For a minute, they gasped clouds of steam into the bitter air. Blade raised his head to study his rescuer, whose white tabard was soaked with blood. Sir Raylin met the assassin's gaze, and his mouth twisted in a wry smile.

  "You fight well, for an assassin."

  Blade grimaced and coughed, rubbing his throat. "How many did you kill?"

  "Four. Five, including that one."

  "Where is Sir Favan?"

  Raylin shook his head. "He did not survive. We injured two of their dogs, so eight of them came after us, and we killed them all. Then I came after you."

  Blade noted Raylin's hunched posture and the rasp of pain in his voice. Rising to his feet, the assassin winced and rubbed his ribs. The dying Cotti's dog whimpered beside its friend, the man he had impaled in the belly. Wiping his dagger on a Cotti's tabard, he retrieved the others and cleaned them before putting them back in their sheaths. He stopped beside the dying soldier, who would live for some time yet, and saw no reason to let the dog suffer more than necessary.

  Picking up a fallen sword, he stood over the Cotti, and the dog lifted its muzzle to gaze up at him with soft, imploring brown eyes. Blade thrust the sword through the man's heart, turning away as the dog yelped and whimpered pitifully, licking the dead soldier's face. At least the pain it shared with its dying friend had ended, and only its grief remained.

  Blade walked over to Sir Raylin and called out to Kerra, who emerged from the darkness, averting her gaze from the bodies. Sir Raylin looked up at her with adoring eyes.

  "My Queen. Forgive me, I am unable to bow to you."

  "No need," Blade said. "Kerra, find some wood for a fire."

  She turned away, and he knelt beside the Knight.

  Sir Raylin gazed after her. "If I had known..."

  "You would have given her identity away."

  "Perhaps." Raylin sighed.

  Blade eyed the Knight's bloody tabard. "Is that your blood?"

  Sir Raylin glanced down. "It is. I am dying, Sir Conash. A sword through the belly."

  "Ah."

  Sir Raylin eased himself onto his side and relaxed with a sigh. "I gave Favan his last rites. I hope you will do the same for me."

  "Your ascension into the Everlasting is assured."

  "Even so."

  Blade inclined his head. "Of course. But you will require a mercy stroke as well, or you will suffer for many days."

  "I am certain you will administer it expertly, Sir Conash."

  A faint smile curled the assassin's lips. "I shall endeavour to."

  "I have always wondered what you were like, but never thought to meet you. It was indeed a privilege, and you have honoured our order with your deeds and lofty status."

  "I am a killer, nothing more. There is little to admire in that."

  "No, you are more than that. Even now, you protect the Queen from her enemies."

  Blade tilted his head, studying the dying Knight. "I am not doing it for her sake, but so the Regent will order the deaths of several Cotti princes. Why do people always credit me with a semblance of nobility when there is none? I care nothing for the girl. I protect her because if I do not, those princes will not die."

  "That is what you tell yourself, and all who ask, but I know the truth."

  "Indeed?"

  Raylin nodded. "Once you have lost everything that is precious to you, all that matters is helping those who need you. Even as an assassin, you helped others, and now you have found a far greater calling. When I lost everything, I wanted to die, but then I thought; why not make my death mean something, and use it to help others?"

  "You are mistaken. I have no such lofty ideals."

  "I will not argue with you, brother. I know what it is to lose a familiar."

  Blade glanced around at a rustle of footsteps, and found Kerra dragging a branch towards them. "I did not only lose my familiar, and unlike you, my neutering was not my choice."

  "I know. You have suffered far more, but still, I know some of your pain."

  "I think I preferred your silence to your insights."

  "I understand."

  Blade glared at the man, annoyed by his insistence, then rose and took the branch from the struggling queen. He broke it into pieces and built a warm blaze, since there were no more Cotti hunting them. Kerra squatted close to it and held out her hands to the warmth, while Sir Raylin lay back and closed his eyes with a sigh. Blade took out a dagger and sharpened it, longing to leave the scene of the carnage. Although the darkness hid the blood, the distinctive smell of death hung over the area, souring his stomach.

  The dogs lay quietly beside their dead friends now, where they would remain until long after the bodies had become cold and stiff. Eventually they would accept the death of their bondsmen and move on, most to become strays in a city, where they could scavenge a living in the garbage. A few might find homes and become pets, since familiars that had lost their friends retained their uncanny intelligence and made good companions. Wild familiars returned to their former lives in the wilderness, but domesticated ones faced a more uncertain fate. Only if an animal had already outlived its natural life span would it die when its friend did, and the soldiers were young, so their canine friends still had a few years left to live alone.

  Sir Raylin no longer had the str
ength to walk. His brief sword fight with the last of Blade's opponents had made his wound worse. That he had ridden after them when he was so badly injured amazed Blade. The loyalty and bravery of the Knights of the Veil was legendary, and Sir Raylin had proven the tales of their courage to be true. The Knight asked for water in a croaking voice, and Blade helped him to sit up and drink from a water skin. When he had slaked his thirst, which the assassin knew would continue to rage because he was bleeding inside, he gazed up at Blade, his ashen skin beaded with sweat.

  "It is almost time, brother. The pain grows worse, and dawn is near. You must take the Queen to safety."

  Blade nodded, glancing at the girl's hunched form. She stared into the fire with an anguished expression, chewing her lip. Sir Raylin plucked at his sleeve.

  "Do you know the rites of death?"

  "I have been given them many times, but unfortunately I was always unconscious at the time. I am sure I can think of something suitable."

  "Just ask for his blessing. I do not need to be absolved of earthly sins, that was done when I was ordained."

  Blade nodded, and Sir Raylin grimaced, his hands gripping his bloody tabard in a futile attempt to stop the pain. Dawn's faint glow brightened the sky above the trees, and Blade gave Kerra a push. She caught herself as she toppled over, and turned to glare at him.

  "It is getting light," Blade said, "go and see if you can find the Cotti's horses, and bring them here."

  Her scowl deepened. "Blade, I have vowed to obey you, but I draw the line at being your servant."

  He shrugged. "Fine, stay here and watch then. Perhaps you should get used to seeing men die."

  Kerra glanced around with a shudder. "I have seen plenty already."

  Blade had to agree, and admired the girl's strong stomach. "Those were enemies."

  She looked at Sir Raylin. "Is he going to die?"

  "Yes. He has asked me to end his suffering."

  She paled. "You are going to kill him?"

  "It is his wish, and a wise decision."

  "But -"

  "If you do not want to watch, then go for a walk. It will only take a moment."

  Kerra cast the Knight a pitying look before she jumped up and walked away, vanishing amongst the trees. Sir Raylin watched her leave, forcing a brittle smile that turned into a grimace.

  "She is brave. Take good care of her, brother."

  "I will."

  Sir Raylin closed his eyes. "I am ready."

  Blade cleared his throat and hunted for the right words, wishing he could remember those that the High Priestess had spoken over him on the day when he should have died.

  Deciding to keep it short and simple, he said, "At this, the time of your death, let Tinsharon look down upon you and bless you. May he welcome you into the Everlasting, where you will dwell for all eternity. Go in peace, Sir Raylin."

  Sir Raylin smiled, his expression becoming serene, as if the words that were so meaningless to the assassin had lifted a great load from the Knight's shoulders. Blade wondered what it was like to have such faith in a god whose existence was unproven. Perhaps the only good he did was to comfort the dying with the promise of everlasting life instead of oblivion, for few would accept death so easily if there was no such hope. He placed his hands around the Knight's neck, his fingers finding the correct positions with well-practised ease.

  Sir Raylin went limp, and Blade lifted the Knight's bloody tabard to clear the way for his mercy stroke. The great gash in the Knight's belly oozed dark blood, and the stench left no doubt as to its severity. Several mighty blows had severed the chain mail that should have saved him from the sword thrust, leaving a gaping rent.

  Blade pushed aside the tattered mail to expose the Knight's chest, placing his fingers on the correct spot above Raylin's heart. He did not pause to consider what he did, but kept his mind cold and clear as he pushed the dagger into the dying man's chest. Sir Raylin gasped when his heart burst, then his head lolled to the side and the air left his lungs in a sigh. Blade pulled the dagger out and wiped it on the Knight's tabard, rose and strode into the forest.

  After a few minutes of searching, he found the Cotti's horses and Sir Raylin's charger tethered not far away. He stripped them of their harness before releasing them, and returned to the campsite. Kerra huddled beside the fire again, her eyes averted from Sir Raylin's body, nibbling a crust of journey bread. Blade stamped out the fire and went over to the horses, waiting for her to join him so he could help her to mount. She seemed as eager to leave as he was, and he set off through the forest at a brisk trot.

  The day passed in silence, and he was glad that the Queen did not wish to talk, for he had no wish to himself. It had been fifteen years since he had ended a man's life in that manner. Although it did not disturb him any more now than it had then, it brought back many unwelcome memories. Since his retirement, he had been forced to kill a couple of would-be robbers who had accosted him in dark alleys, but now his tally of kills was once more accruing at an amazing rate. It seemed that being in a queen's employ led to a lot of killing. At least Kerra had a strong stomach, and had behaved well so far, but he had a feeling that it was not going to last. When the novelty of the adventure wore off, and it became simply uncomfortable and arduous, he was certain she would complain.

  Late in the afternoon, they reached the end of the forest, and Blade stopped his horse to gaze at the vista before them, well pleased. Beyond a goodly spread of fields and pastures lay the most hated and reviled city in all of Jashimari, just the sort of place he needed. Kerra glanced at him.

  "What city is that?"

  "The perfect one for us. It is Dramali, also known as Thieves’ Haven or the Crooked City. Its citizens are all crooks. Well, most of them are crooks, or the families of crooks. We are further south than I thought."

  "It sounds dangerous."

  "It is, especially for any representatives of government, such as soldiers, and in particular, Cotti."

  Kerra frowned at the town. "If it is full of crooks, there must be informers amongst them, and spies."

  "Certainly, which is why it is time you became my apprentice."

  "What do you mean?"

  Blade turned his horse and rode back into the forest a short way, then stopped and dismounted. Kerra joined him, and he took a small black bottle from his saddlebag, shaking it.

  She scowled at him. "You are going to dye my hair."

  "Yes. And you will have to lose that highborn manner of speech, too. From now on, you will be Kess, my apprentice, and the observer will determine your sex. If they think you are a boy, all the better."

  "But I do not look like a boy."

  "Not yet." He gestured for her to sit before him, and used his fingers to comb the last of the ringlets from her hair. It hung in a rippling veil to her hips, and she bit her lip while he used his sharpest dagger to hack it off. She gathered the fallen tresses and stroked them, blinking away tears. When her hair was shoulder length, he poured the black dye over it and rubbed it in.

  "Chiana said you disguised my mother once."

  "Yes. So you could be conceived."

  Kerra blushed, reminding him of her youth. He plaited her hair, then washed his hands with the contents of a water skin. The riding habit bothered him, being too feminine and expensive, even though now well worn. He used two spare thongs from his saddlebag to bind the split skirt into trousers while she stood rigid with embarrassment. Hiding a smile, he picked up a handful of soil and rubbed it into the fabric, then smeared a little on her cheeks. She glared at him.

  "You are far too clean for an assassin's apprentice," he explained.

  "Must they all be filthy urchins?"

  "To be believable, yes. Since you know nothing of my trade, you will have to be a new apprentice, and they are fresh out of the gutter."

  The Queen frowned. "I trust this will change shortly."

  "Only if you learn to act and fight like an assassin."

  "That would be preferable."


  "But not really feasible."

  "Why not? If I am to pretend to be your apprentice, you should train me, or people will wonder why you do not."

  Blade nodded. "True." He took her hands and rubbed dirt on them, pushing it under her fingernails. "Try to use shorter words, or better still, be silent. Your highborn accent is a dead give-away. When we are in the city, listen to the way the common people talk, and then if you must speak, imitate them."

  "Chiana has spent years reprimanding me for talking like the servants, and now I must."

  "Even worse." He stepped back to study her. "Not bad. I will improve it once we are in the city. Now listen carefully. That is a rough place, so stay close to me always. If someone picks on you, or grabs you, call me. Do not get into any arguments, and do not wander off. If anything happens to me, go to the temple and ask for sanctuary. There is one even in that city. Understand?"

  She lifted her chin. "I am not a fool, Blade."

  "Ah, yes, my name is not Blade from now on, it is Claw, but you must call me 'master'. And I may have to be rough with you, it is expected."

  "Rough?"

  He smiled. "I will try not to break any bones."

  "How comforting."

  "Do not use that tone with me, or anyone else. Let's go."

  Blade mounted his horse and headed for the city, leaving Kerra to catch up. She eyed his back with deep misgivings, wondering at the wisdom of Chiana's choice of caretaker. His only redeeming feature seemed to be his ability to kill with such consummate ease. Perhaps that was all the qualification he required, in the Regent's eyes, but then, Chiana adored him. Kerra had known the reason for Chiana's infatuation from the moment she had clapped eyes on him. Part of it was his handsomeness, but also the air of subdued menace he exuded, which she found exciting and strangely alluring.

  A high, weathered grey stone wall surrounded the city, and Blade headed for the rutted road that led to the tall, scarred gates. They rode through the unguarded portal without attracting many curious glances from the sly looking miscreants who loitered there, their eyes darting. Assassins were not considered criminals, but their profession was scorned in law abiding towns. She wondered if there was much work for hired killers in Dramali. White-washed buildings lined the road, run down and crumbling from lack of repair, many with sagging, patched roofs. Potholes pocked the dung-splattered streets, and aged harridans watched them pass from doorways, sucked pipes and swapped gossip. Dramali lacked the bustle of Jondar, owning a more subdued and less populated air.