by D. H. Aire
Assasin’s Blade
3
Abernathy paled as the Empress stiffened, “Worse actually, Lord Je’orj was able to purchase this one through an unstated third party,” she mentioned with a dark glance
at George, “and it is not that of the passage, but one of the other two. It’s a plan for entering the palace itself.”
“What?!” Grendel cried as Sianhiel and Abernathy gaped, speechless. Such plans were the perfect assassin’s tool— and they could be purchased?
“You see my dilemma, gentlemen,” the Empress said. “Here before me is a mere copy. I sent the Guard to quietly investigate whether the entrances shown here still exist.”
George watched Grendel for any reaction, noticed nothing untoward as the Empress continued. “My only reassuring thought is in the fact my ancestors never scribed any of the traps set along the most critical ‘ways’ of which the ballroom one is not. The secrets of passing such are tests each heir is trained in since childhood, though I never realized that is what my mother had done to me until much later in life.” The silence that descended was thick. “Senason’s murderer either purchased the missing plan or had access to the archives and removed it.”
Abernathy frowned, “But the archives are restricted to a chosen few.”
“Yes,” the Empress replied, “thus, a trusted member of Court would have to have committed treason.”
The mages exited after assuring Lucian the room was safe. “Father, I really don’t know what else I could possibly tell them.”
Smiling as comfortingly as he could as they entered, Lucian assured his son, “No need to worry. Your master seems to have matters well in hand. We just have to trust in him.”
Two Imperial Guards stationed themselves outside as Aaprin and Gallen stared about them. The room was not like anything they might have imagined. A wide bed dwarfed half the chamber. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A great gold bedecked fireplace graced the room. There were plush divans, couches, chairs. An oaken table held a buffet with refreshments on their left. Aaprin glanced down at the carpets and wondered how he could walk across the beautiful gilt pattern of the Imperial symbol.
Raven walked across the chamber, thinking nothing of the opulence. Sensing something, she glanced to the doorway. The guard unconsciously paused a moment before swinging it securely shut.
Concentrating on one particular sense, she faintly discerned a familiar reassuring scent. She nodded to Gallen and said, “Aaprin.”
His eyes widened as she reached out a reassuring hand. Gallen sat down in one of the plush chairs and concentrated hard. Moments later Lucian settled Aaprin to bed, “Rest now. You can eat later on.”
Raven shook her head and sat down on the couch; soon joined by Lucian.
Aaprin glanced briefing at the changeling girl, who gave him a firm nod. Sighing, he laid back and closed his eyes. He was so thoroughly exhausted, so safe, that welcome sleep took him into oblivion in but a moment.
Lucian swallowed, his crooked hand spasming, praying what he had told his son was true.
“Terus, where are you? Wait for me!” Revit called, facing another branching of the passageways. He raised his glowing hand higher, hoping to drive back the darkness still further. The soft blue light kept him from taking a serious falls, but so far had done little more than light his way. He felt like he had been searching for Terus endlessly, yet was strangely certain he was closer. The pair of them had always had an odd affinity for each other, could always sense where the other was no matter the distance. Revit let that sense guide him through the maze of passages, trusting it as he could nothing else.
Revit came up to a branch and subconsciously chose the left, knowing Terus had gone that way, then paused.
He sensed Terus was suddenly moving in another direction entirely. Revit returned hurriedly to the branch. Swallowing uneasily, he just knew that if he didn’t take it but merely followed Terus’s trail it would be too late.
He only hoped it was not a blind alley. “I’m coming, Ter,” he promised, fervently. “But if I never find my way out of here, I’ll never forgive you.”
Snick. A small panel opened into the guest room. The elfblooded apprentice lay asleep on the bed. His elvin father, Lucian, was curled up in the chair next to him. The girl who accompanied them was outside his vantage, likely resting upon the divan to his left.
From his right pocket, a gold linked chain came to hand. Raising it to the opening, he twisted the links just so. The gold formed into a hilt. The emptiness within the top most link became a lens. There was a crackle as the too the thin blade coalesced.
With the faintest blue shimmer the blade stretched, reaching out to the slumbering boy and pierced his chest in an instant.
The body jerked ever so slightly, then went still. Ever so silently, the thin blade vanished and the gold links merely links again. The assassin began to slide the panel closed. His objective accomplished.
As if in a dream Terus hurried through the dark maze. He never tripped or stumbled, following what might best be described as a scent. It was a “wrongness” that must be purged from this place… and he was a hound upon its track.
THERE, he instantly knew. UP AHEAD. A tiny patch of unobscured light flowed through a shoulder height panel in the wall. There stood a shadowy figure before it, quietly withdrawing, closing off the panel aperture.
Terus’s mental barriers were wide open to the feelings that welled from the person before him. Thus, he unintentionally caught the wisp of conscious thought. Aaprin Summerfelt had been silenced. There would be no chance of damning testimony.
Sudden tears blinding him, Terus screamed, “NO!”
The cowled figure turned, startled and shocked at seeing a suddenly incandescent form confronting him in the narrow confines.
Indescribable power generated by sheer fury coursed through Terus. The image of Aaprin murdered in his bed blazed in the other’s mind. The power that lashed outward for Terus was both savage and primal. It burst the wall against the guest chamber. Dust and stone rained.
Terus’s last conscious thought before the backlash brought unconsciousness was the fact that the assassin’s wards had been strong enough to save his life.
It had become a vigil. Balfour sat at the bedside of the Highmage of Aqwaine Empire. The cocoon of midnight and stars was no longer lavender hues of the coming dawn. The cocoon pulsed as time fought to reassert itself over the aged elf, who had strained with all his arts to stretch his last moment of life into months.
The Highmage’s daughter, Carwina, did not even glance up at the arrival of the elvin archmage, Regis, Master Stenh, or Balfour’s uncle Ofran who stood quietly by the window.
“How long has he been like this?” Regis asked in a respectful whisper.
Balfour answered, forlorn “This may be my fault. I attempted a healing. He rejected my efforts. A little while later this began.”
Ofran shook his head gravely, “This is not your fault. I’ve noticed such changes several times, but not for more than a month now.”
The elf nodded and knelt beside his lifelong friend. “Alrex, we need you… now more than ever.”
At that Carwina turned and stared at him. “How dare you? Don’t you even understand what’s happening to him? He’s doing everything he can— he’s pouring the remainder of his life force into a major working.”
Regis gaped as Ofran muttered, “Of course! That explains it.”
“The stubborn fool won’t stop it til he’s dead,” she shrilled, “all for his pet human!” She quickly returned to facing the cocoon, which was now flaring violet in splotches.
Balfour glanced behind him at Cle’or standing in the doorway, looking worried.
“NO!” the Highmage screamed as the cocoon of energy flared out into an incandescent ball, which sent everything and everyone in the room reeling.
The Empress abruptly leapt to her feet and screamed. The staff flared in George’s hands as he nearly collapsed; his face
gone pasty white.
Se’and hurriedly grabbed Je’orj to prevent him from falling as the Empress ran to the chamber door. With a hastily uttered elvin word, the doors burst open, toppling the guards stationed behind them. Once in the antechamber the Empress shouted for her guards to follow her and raced toward the guest quarters.
Grendel cried, “The wards have been breached!”
The elves immediately clasped hands over their ears, vainly fighting the etheric shrill, as the floor faintly reverberated from what felt like an explosion.
Desperately, Sianhiel and Grendel rushed after the Empress, while behind them George doggedly pursued. Se’and put her arm around him, helping him keep on his feet, while the dazed Abernathy propped George’s other side. Together they struggled to catch up.
Lucian coughed, struggling to rise from the overturned chair, dust, plaster, bits of wood everywhere. The door was thrust open by the Imperial guards. As they took in the scene a very faint crackling sound filled the air, followed by the guards’ screams as a thin stream of blue light stabbed outward and cut the pair down.
They fell with a cry just as Lucian saw their dust covered attacker rising to his feet. Behind him a great hole gaped where the wall stood moments before.
Raven crouched in her hiding place behind the bed, which was marked across its length, speared where the illusion of a sleeping Aaprin had lain. The moment the guards fell, Raven let out a roar that startled the assassin, who gaped as she shimmered and changed into a tawny furred beast with a black mane, and leapt upon him.
He struggled to pull his weapon into line as its jaws clamped his arm and knocked him backward. There was a crackling sound as a near invisible undirected stream of “something” cut through the air clove the toppled chair in half. The sliced end slid thudding to the floor as the assassin screamed, Raven clawing his back and thighs.
The wildly sweeping line of light swept toward Lucian, who struggled to get out of its path as it cut through everything it touched.
Trying to fling the beast aside, the assassin struggled to control his weapon, fighting to bring it about to touch the beast. Raven bucked and kicked as her attacker brought the weapon ever closer.
Lucian blanched as the weapon swung once more in his direction giving him no time to dodge the sweep.
“GET DOWN!” a voice out of nowhere cried.
A ball of energy shot from across the room, briefly silhouetting two people, then the bolt struck the wielder’s hand. The thin light blade was deflected just as it cut a swath out of Lucian’s tunic. The assassin screamed louder and he dropped the golden hilt of links from his shattered hand. The blade tumbled for a moment before it vanished, leaving the links to clink as they fell on the floor.
“Beast! Back away!” the Empress commanded from the doorway. Raven warily backed away from the man now nursing his injured arm and hand.
From the gaping wall, Revit appeared, shouldering a crying and exhausted Terus, who muttered between tears, “He killed Aaprin!”
Lucian gasped in horror, having thought Aaprin must have been safely hidden behind the overturned bed. Fearing what he might see, he turned.
“Don’t be silly,” coughed Aaprin, rising into view. “How could I be in danger with Raven around?”
“But? He…” Terus gaped as Lucian rushed to his son and hugged him in sheer relief.
The Empress kicked aside the gold link chain which lay mere inches from the assassin, who never tried to reach it with either his shattered hand or broken arm.
He looked up at her with an agonized stare as she rasped, “You betrayed me.”
“Never, Your Majesty. I had to stop you from betraying yourself.”
Sianhiel pushed past the human mage as he half stumbled down the corridor with his Cathartan bodyguard’s aid, the faeryn archmage a step behind them. Imperial Guards with Bane Swords drawn sought to block the door. Sianhiel gaped at the sight of the Imperial Herald. Lowell shook his head in anguish, cradling his broken and bleeding arm.
“Why, Lowell?”
The old man replied, “Senason would have brought the Empire to ruin… as much as that… that professed human mage! You stood blind to his ambition. He loved you not at all… only sought to become Highmage through you. Naught else.”
“Liar!” she screamed, her hands gesturing as black rage overwhelmed her. “You have broken your Oath to me!” she cried, knowing those words held a magic all their own.
The aged herald eyes widened, then he gagged and twisted. He fought to catch a breath. Strangling on the words of the Oath he had given to follow his Empress until death, he toppled to the floor.
Lucian paled and thrust Aaprin’s face to his chest even as George reached the doorway and shouted to the boys to turn away. Revit swiftly averted his face, but Terus stared as if transfixed.
George moved forward to intervene, when Se’and held him back, shaking her head, gainsaying him. With a sigh, his body aching as if something had tried to tear him in half, he desisted. He knew it was late as the Empress straightened in righteous indignation.
Raven trembled, her hackles literally raised at the sight of the Empress’s former herald growing too still and lifeless.
The Empress, her face pale, saw the elfblooded boy, Terus, staring at her. She instantly stood straighter, seeing other eyes looking through the lad’s gaze. Then that other sight faded as parting thoughts filled with love and understanding brushed her, and were gone.
Tears filling her eyes, the Empress marched up to George, “Here lies the murder weapon.” It appeared to be only a chain of linked gold, but it was much more deadly. “It must be ancient, made by a master of the arts. Archmage Abernathy you will examine it carefully, keep it well warded and later see to its destruction… I will not abide such a thing’s existence.” The archmage nodded as the young Empress turned and said, “Lord Je’orj, I shall see that suitable rooms for all of you are arranged and to new guest accommodations for the Summerfelts, who have been sorely put upon this day. I thank you all for your service to the Crown.”
Lord Sianhiel bowed as the Empress marched out, expressionless but for the moisture glistening her cheeks. She strode down the hallway, her guards rushing to keep up. Grendel, and dozens of others knelt as one as she walked past them back toward her apartments.
Her Imperial Guards at her back, she muttered, brushing back tears, “Alrex, how could you…”
Cle’or rushed into the room and helped Balfour to his feet.
Carwina and Regis were on their knees coughing as Ofran reached Alrex’s side. He stared down and gently touched the shriveled elf’s cold hand. “I’m so sorry, child.”
Raising her head, Carwina stared. The cocoon of darkness was gone; he was free at long last. “Oh, Father,” she whimpered, taking the hand she had, for so long, been unable to touch and bringing it to her cheek.
Balfour watched her, took a half step forward, then thought better of it. He nodded to his uncle and left the room with Cle’or.
Regis and Stenh soon followed. Downstairs the elvin archmage said, “I will see that both the Guild and the Empress are notified.”
Balfour glanced upstairs. “I’ve a suspicion that they already know in the palace.”
Master Stenh glanced at Regis, who slowly nodded. Balfour was much less sanguine. Perhaps he was one of the few who realized that the only hope for the Empire lay in the next Highmage being a man who only wanted one thing… for a way to return to the world he called home.
It was not easy, but Gallen finally managed to get past the sentries. There was a flapping of wings. In startlement, the urchin saw a large pale winged falc with a black crest. The bird shimmered and Raven dropped naked, before him. “You saved Aaprin life.”
Gallen coughed, shrugged, “It was a simple enough illusion. Don’t tell anyone… The last thing I need is to get any more involved with mages or politics.”
Raven canted her head and smiled.
With a rueful sigh, remembering the way the sha
pechanger had torn into the murderer, Gallen did not find that smile very reassuring.
Terus shook his head. “Master, I just don’t understand what happened to me.”
“It wasn’t your choice, lad,” George tried to explain as Se’and closed the door to the suite to which they had been led. He quickly sat on the divan, holding his computer staff tight.
Se’and shook her head, considering both boys’ filthy dust covered clothing. She went through one of the dressers and found some towels, which would have to do until an Imperial servant could launder them.
Revit said not a word, stripping off his jerkin. He was still worried about Terus, but was glad enough that they had not been lectured for their escapade. Se’and had not even been upset by the state their clothes were in after traversing the tunnels, to say nothing of the broken wall, which coated them.
“Terus, Highmage Alrex summoned you to accomplish something he desperately needed to do,” George explained, “but couldn’t physically accomplish himself. That’s how you were able to track and discover Lowell’s treachery.”
Terus frowned, knowing that something had possessed him, drew him through the tunnels, but the experience still held him in a bit of a daze. “I thought… I thought I felt Highmage Alrex die.”
Swallowing hard, George nodded wordlessly, knowing the Summoning which had been spurring him to action at times was gone. Being stripped of it completely, when he had thought it long faded had been a psychic shock that even affected staff’s ability to adjust to. He leaned over and grasped Terus’s right hand as Revit stared wide-eyed, incredulous and horrified at what his friend had gone through.
:Uh, George…: Staff said enrapport, :one thing I do not understand was why the Summoning did not use you as it did Terus.:
“Something to discuss later,” George muttered under his breath.
Terus did not know why, but his master’s touch helped dispel the sense of dread that remained after Alrex’s almost bittersweet parting.