by D N Meinster
Ale didn't reply. His eyes moved from the box to Neanthal, who was dressed in black leather but wore a silver heart in the center of his chest. This was not the scene he had expected. Did Neanthal want him to kill the child? That was a step too far. Ale wouldn't have killed anyone that lived in this home. He had vowed to never take the life of an Outerling.
"Don't concern yourself with the boy," Neanthal said, flicking his hand toward the crate. "He is why I am here."
"Then what purpose have I being here?" The words jettisoned from Ale's mouth with a dose of disrespect.
"I needed to meet you somewhere," Neanthal replied, undisturbed by his tone. "And here, I can do two things at once."
Ale was skeptical that that was the entire truth. Why not summon him to Castle Tornis?
"Because I can't be seen meeting with assassins that don't exist," Neanthal answered the question as if he could read Ale's mind.
Could he? He'd heard rumors that Neanthal was more than a man. He was a beast. He was a god.
"There'd have been a downside for both of us," Neanthal said, creeping closer to the crate. "Here in the Outer, we have the privacy we need."
"Because you've done nothing for it," Ale snarled. He didn't know what Neanthal was planning on doing with the baby, but he wasn't about to let it come to harm. He had the skills to prevent even this man from doing the unspeakable to such an innocent being.
"Relax," Neanthal replied, holding a hand up to Ale. He reached into the box and pulled the child up into his arms. He coddled the baby, though his face could not hide the obvious antipathy he had for it. "This is not an ordinary child. This is a mage." He flipped its head around so Ale could make out the pale green where the whites of its eyes should have been.
"So?" Ale responded while his fingers slyly grasped one of his daggers.
"Do you actually care about the life within this?" Neanthal asked, his face breaking out into a wide grin. "And I thought an assassin would have no regard for anyone's life."
"It's a kid," Ale retorted. How heartless was this new king?
"But if you feel something for a newborn mage, how can I expect you to kill an adult mage?"
"Is that why you've brought me here? So you can hire me?"
"Naturally," Neanthal answered. He cradled the child in his arms and began to rock it when it let out a whine.
"You command forces that defeated Kytheras' army," Ale spoke. "What need do you have of me?"
"The Ifta don't like water," Neanthal sighed. "And the rest of my Massku are too wild to handle delicate operations."
Ale was slightly amused by this unexpected request. Here was the most powerful man in all of Ghumai, and he was trying to hire a lowly Outerling to do his bidding. He let the silence between them drag on until he broke it with a self-gratifying, "No."
Neanthal was undeterred by the response. "Gaining the loyalty of children is so simple. They want to be held, and they want to be fed. Give them that and they grow dependent on you. So when you need to ask them for a favor, they are ready to comply." He raised the baby so that he was looking at it face-to-face. "Do you hear me, Magenine? I am about to take another mage away from you. I know you will not come and save him. You won't break the rules. So you can watch as I take all of Ghumai from you. And then you will watch as I take the Bastion from you as well." A shallow whisper escaped Neanthal's lips, and with it came tufts of black smoke that maneuvered through the air until they landed on the child's chest. Within seconds, the child's green eyes were covered by a dense black.
Ale was horrified. "What did you do to it?"
"I freed this mage from Magenine's clutches," he replied. "It will know no boundaries to its magic as it grows. And it didn't even have to ask."
Ale whipped out his dagger, but it became dust before he could even take aim with it.
Neanthal looked warmly at his newly corrupted mage before he gently returned it to the crate. "You are not here so we can fight. Believe me, you don't want that."
Ale wiped the dust off his hand and stared astoundingly at it. "With such power, why do you need an assassin?"
Neanthal closed in on him. "You do not need an answer to that. I only need an answer to this: what do you want?"
Ale usually accepted jobs for gems, but he was still disinclined to work for Neanthal. Nevertheless, he would test how far this king was willing and able to go. "I want my wife and child back."
Neanthal's fiery eyes locked onto Ale's. "How long have they been gone?"
Ale squinted at him. "Two years."
Neanthal backed away, the floorboards creaking as he stepped near the fireplace. "I can bring them back. It will cost two lives, separate from my own request. But it can be done."
Ale's derisive laugh reverberated through the empty house. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Yes," Neanthal answered, rotating back toward him. "I don't follow Magenine's rules. The Goddess took your family from you and required they remain in Her spiritual prison. She has been directing Ghumaic affairs since the formation of this world. I can feel the hatred you have for me and Aergo. Aergo, I can understand. He was only Magenine's puppet. But me? I can break Her rules. I can fulfill your deepest desires. Any of them. Those that were impossible before my arrival are now within reach. And that includes bringing the dead back to life."
For the first time, Ale felt the need to sit down. He tread to the stool in the corner and took a seat. He didn't want to believe Neanthal's words, but the King was utterly convincing. Could he truly bring his wife back? Yet even if he could, what about the Outer? "You destroyed the Outer and left it to rot, just as your predecessor allowed."
"I have priorities," Neanthal replied. "But if a restored Outer is what you want, I can give that to you instead."
Ale clenched his teeth as he debated what he truly wanted and whether he believed Neanthal could actually give it to him. It was an easy choice. He wanted his family back more than anything else. But what if the King was lying to him? Neanthal had not earned his trust nor his fealty. However, he was too intrigued to reject him now. If there was even a sliver of hope that he could have his wife back, he would take it. But he needed more than words. "Can you prove that you can bring the dead back?"
Neanthal's lips spread out in a horrifying smile. "You asked for this."
A black blade appeared in Neanthal's hand, and before Ale could react, it was impaled in his chest.
He pictured his wife in the last few seconds of his life. But as the world faded, the last thing he remembered seeing was Neanthal's eyes.
Ale gasped for breath. He toppled off the stool and kneeled on the ground while his lungs desperately inhaled air.
When he felt content enough to slow his breaths, he looked up at the King. A dead dog was hanging from Neanthal's clutches.
"Life for life," he said before tossing the dog's carcass into the fire.
Ale ran his hands along his chest, amazed that the injury he had sustained was gone. He tried standing back up, but even pushing himself up with the stool, he only had enough strength to situate himself back on top of it. "Where did I go?" he asked.
"The Bastion," Neanthal answered. "You were dead."
"No," Ale said, wiping at the drying blood on his chin. "There was someplace else."
If Neanthal knew more, he did not reveal it. "Magenine has all of you serving Her without offering anything in return. I am not so conceited. Whatever you want, I can provide. You see that now, don't you?"
Ale nodded. This man before him could do the impossible. He could bring back his wife and child. "You bring them back to life and I will do whatever you ask of me."
As the wave rolled into the Island of Set, it brought with it a wooden canoe that crashed into the sand and stuck onto the beach as the waters receded.
Ale stepped out, his toes sinking into the wet sand as he made to desert his vehicle. There were no moons or stars visible this night; the clouds hid them all. The only glimmers of light emanated from a village
tucked in among the palm trees. He had expected it to be darker, as Twileans were known to settle in when the sun set. Perhaps it was their Kytheran guests that were staying up late into the night. That could make his task rather tricky.
Three mages. That was the cost to get his family back. Neanthal did not demand proof once they were dead. He said he would know, and Ale believed him.
Neanthal was a god. There was no other word for such a being that could return him to life. That was more than this goddess, this Magenine, had ever done for him. Magenine ignored his pleas as his wife lay dying, just as Aergo had ignored him. Neither would save her, and neither could bring her back. Only Neanthal would. When it came to decide where Ale's loyalties would lie, it was an easy decision.
Ale's entire body was coated in black felt, from hood to toe. Should any villager look out upon the beach, they would not see him as he snuck away from his boat. His footprints would not be discovered until morning, unless the seas had washed them away by then. He expected his canoe would be gone by that time as well. He'd have to find another way off.
The Island of Set was the smallest of the three main islands that composed the Twilight Isles. Shine and his band of Aergo's peons had taken up residence on the central Island of Noon. It would be most difficult sneaking around there, where many of the remaining guardians protected their would-be king. Most of the mages had gone there as well, but not all. Some had stayed with the soldiers and their families as they were dispersed to the other islands. They must have thought their magic could protect them all should Neanthal seek to finish them off. They were about to discover how wrong they were.
Ale slid up against one of the plentiful trees and spied the wooden homes that comprised the Twilean village. Candles sat lit in many of the windows, and there were even a few soldiers patrolling the empty spaces between the houses. These Kytherans were still on edge. It was a wise plan, but it would not save them.
There was no way to tell which home a mage may be resting inside of, and checking them all would be an easy way to get caught. Normally, he would hide for a day and observe the goings-on of the village. But this island did not provide much in hiding space. There was no cover amongst the trees in daylight, and the layout of the village provided no nooks and crannies of which he could take advantage of.
No, he would need to take out one mage tonight and then return to Kytheras. He would wait for them to finish their searches and then he would come back and assassinate another. But first, he had to find one.
Killing these soldiers as they strut along the sands might force a mage from their home. But he was unsure if he could take a mage head-on. There was no weapon that could contend with their staffs, and he had nothing to blunt their magic. With merely a wave, they could send him back to that place, where he felt the darkness tugging him away from the Bastion and away from his family.
Ale shuddered. No, he would have to find a mage's house to kill one while they slept. It was the only way. But he had no sense of how to do so. He had no way to trace their magic. Maybe he could slip in and out of the homes undetected, but there was no way to get to them all before daybreak.
This was going to take longer than he imagined. If he did not find a mage tonight, he would have to leave and come back. And that meant waiting for another cloudy night on the banks of the Unending Seas in Kytheras. It could be seasons until he was able to accomplish this task for Neanthal; seasons until he saw his family again. He did not want to wait. He'd waited so long already.
Ale raced to another tree closer to the village. He hid behind the trunk until the pair of soldiers passed by again.
Silently, he made his way to the nearest cabin. Sidling up against the wood, he looked back to ensure he had not made footprints that would give him away. When he confirmed that, he slid closer to the window and peeked inside. The flame of the candle lit his eyes as they searched the interior of this home. But he saw no one. They were either in another room or not inside.
Was it worth going in?
Ale decided to move on after the soldiers passed by again, completely oblivious to his presence.
He slid around the back of the cabin and crept over to the adjacent home. There was no candle in this window.
As he peered inside, he saw the glint of a crystal in the corner of the room. It had to be a channeling crystal. A mage lived here.
Ale slid his fingernails into the crevasse at the bottom of the window and gradually lifted the glass up. When it was wide enough to climb into, he stuck a dagger in the corner to hold it open and made his way through.
One foot landed upon the wooden floor. Then the other. When he had maneuvered his way in, he held a hand to the bottom of the window and retrieved his dagger. He had more with him, but he wasn't about to risk losing one. He allowed the window to fall slowly back into place, and then he tiptoed over to the crystal he had seen.
It was as he suspected. The crystal was set into the bulbous apex of a violet staff. There was a mage here.
His eyes targeted the nearby bed, where he saw the sheets rise and fall as the occupant slept.
Ale retrieved another dagger and lurked toward the bed. His fingers were tense on the handles of his blades. The mage needed to die immediately. There could not be a fight.
As he stood at the side of the mattress, he raised both daggers so they hung over the resting mage. He could not see his victim beneath the sheets, but that would only make this easier.
Both daggers plunged at the mage, and their silvery points pierced what Ale assumed was the mage's torso.
"Yahhhh!" the mage bellowed before he flung himself off the bed. He was bald and bleeding from two stab wounds near his stomach. But he was not dead, and he crawled over to the staff resting in the corner.
Ale hurried to get in his way and made to stab him again.
But the staff flew into Ale's back and knocked him to the ground.
Before he knew it, the mage was on his feet with his staff in hand.
"Who are you?" he demanded to know as blood continued to seep from the wounds and soak the bottom of his white nightshirt.
His enemy was wounded. Ale got back on his feet, convinced that there wouldn't be a clash. "I am..." He didn't finish the sentence before he tossed a dagger straight at the mage.
The dagger lost its momentum in midair. As it hung there, the mage eyed him with fury. "Fine." Ale's weapon fell until it clunked against the floor. With a wave of his staff, the mage sent Ale flying into the window he had snuck in from. The glass cracked but did not break.
The mage tried to get nearer, but his leg gave out after only one step. Even if he hadn't clung to his staff, he would've keeled over.
As the mage tried to concentrate and get back up, Ale bounced a dagger into the floor and sent it rebounding toward the mage’s head. It struck him above the eye, and the man fell back. The staff rolled out of his hand, and Ale drew near to make sure it was over.
The mage was dead.
Ale picked up his daggers and wiped the blood on the mages attire. Before he could put them away, he heard the door being ripped open. And then there were footsteps. Many footsteps.
Three men entered the room before Ale had even attempted an escape. Two wore armor of dark green embedded with the symbol of the Five Kingdoms. One wore plain silver armor. None of them had on helmets.
"Quentin!" the man in silver armor cried. He glared at Ale, who had already sent two daggers flying at his comrades. Both men in green armor dropped where they stood as the blades were successfully embedded in their foreheads. He did not let the shock of losing them interfere with his next move. He withdrew a slender blade from his waist and knocked an incoming dagger from its path.
Ale only had two daggers left, and neither were a match for a sword in close combat.
"Why?" the armored man asked as he encroached. The jagged scars on his face were fresh, like he had seen combat recently.
Ale took hold of both daggers, but decided to speak to try and keep this
warrior distracted. "I'm an assassin. Does that answer it for you?" He backed up into the wall.
"Who paid you?" the man demanded.
"No one paid me to kill you," Ale replied. "You can leave with your life." He stepped sideways, making his way to the cracked window.
"So they can call me a coward? No. Yuurei is no coward." He made to strike, but Ale rolled along the wall until the window was directly behind him.
With the handle of his dagger, Ale shattered the glass and dove backwards, landing headfirst into the sand. He swept the grains off and stood up, only to see Yuurei climbing out of the broken window.
Ale tossed a dagger at him, but Yuurei deflected with a deft swipe of his blade.
There was no point engaging him. Ale had already achieved what he needed to. He rotated away and hustled toward the beach, never looking back to see if he was followed.
Ale made it through the trees and back to his canoe. With a hasty push, he freed it from the sands and allowed a receding wave to carry it back to the sea while he hung onto its side. When he was far enough from the shore, he clambered inside.
The puddles within the boat rose as the waters dripped off of him. He knelt in the slightly flooded compartment, relieved to have escaped Yuurei's wrath. He would be mindful of this warrior should he return.
When he returned.
Ale had to. He still had two mages left to kill.
Chapter Sixteen
Storm Clouds
A spiral-shaped formation of black clouds developed over central Cortex. With each rotation, the clouds grew wider and enveloped more of the sky. A low rumble of thunder precipitated the disappearance of the sun, which was lost behind the unforeseen storm. As darkness overtook the city, it seemed to all that night had come early. But with their electricity, the city seemed to come alive at this dark hour. Whole buildings became towers of light. Every window appeared to glow. The Bellish would not allow a blotted sky to impede their progress.
Rikki held her staff high, egging on the storm as her friends stood nearby on the outdoor platform.