by Pedro Urvi
“Laudable intentions,” replied the Captain, bowing his head, “but I don’t think war can be averted at this point. Once the sons of the snow get going, only death can stop them.”
“I know that, but at least I have to try. My duty and my conscience demand it.”
“Let’s hope your efforts and the lives of these brave soldiers may not be spent in vain,” the officer said, with a touch of reproach in his voice.
“So be it,” Lasgol replied serenely. He was fully aware of the enormous difficulty of the enterprise.
After the sober funeral, the survivors continued advancing through the labyrinth of caves with extreme caution, wary of falling into another trap. Lasgol picked up the fugitives’ trail leading into a narrow tunnel, confirmation that somehow they had evaded the giant crocodiles. The temperature was still low, although not as piercing as before. He crouched to check the trail; there was no room for doubt, it was theirs. How they had managed to pass by those horrible beasts and still be alive was something beyond his understanding, but those tracks clearly indicated that the two fugitives had gone into that narrow passage.
They went along the corridor, fearful of falling into some new trap. The group reached an enormous hall, long and rectangular. Lasgol guessed it was man-made. He signaled to the group to stop. Wide stone steps carved out of the ice led down to a lake of dark water, with a small round island in the center. Four enormous statues of ice rose menacingly from it. They represented giant sea serpents, monsters from the bottom of the deepest seas, the worst nightmare of any sailor. They stood more than twelve feet tall, and their mouths were frozen in an eternally threatening gesture. On the other side of the lake, at the far end of the hall, another group of stairs led up to a portal of ice guarded by two small waterfalls, phosphorescent and greenish. They all reached for their weapons and prepared themselves, expecting some new danger awaiting them ahead.
Suddenly a figure wearing a long white tunic appeared under the ice arch. A snow-white cowl covered its head, so that only its shining golden eyes could be seen. The tunic was decorated with gold thread. In its right hand it held a staff with flashing golden symbols, and in its left a book with covers of the same color.
Lasgol watched it intently. He called upon his Gift to perceive the nature of this being, but without success, as if a magic shield had deflected the attempt. Before he could stop him, Toral gave the order to attack.
“Soldiers! Get rid of this demon with golden eyes!”
His men, without hesitation, charged down the stairs.
Lasgol tried to stop them. “Wait! We don’t know what we’re up against!”
Toral was beside himself. “That demon has to pay for the death of my men!” he raged.
The first two soldiers reached the final step of the ice stairway. As they set foot on it, there came an ominous metallic sound. At once two streams of whitish liquid jetted out from both sides of the stairs at amazing speed. The two men, caught by the liquid, were frozen in the same instant. The icy bodies held the horrified expression of the two soldiers preserved for ever. When their comrades saw what happened they stumbled to a halt.
Lasgol shook his head, saddened by their terrible fate.
The sinister figure in white raised its staff and began to intone a chant, filling the hall with unintelligible words. At the sound, the ice statues of sea snakes began to melt. The ice which covered them fell away, turning into water which fell into the gloomy lake, and the huge sea monsters were revealed.
The horrendous beasts began to come to life!
As the ice which had held them prisoner melted away, they began to move their upper bodies. At the same time they emitted a series of deafening, ear-splitting hisses. The four surviving soldiers retreated immediately towards Lasgol and Toral. The last of the ice fell with a loud crash, freeing the scaly bodies of the four monsters.
“Get ready! Now they’ll come for us!” Lasgol warned, trying to keep his voice from shaking at the sight of those nightmares from the deepest abysses of the ocean.
“Soldiers, for Norghana!” Toral yelled.
They formed a line with shield and sword, ready to fend off the attack. There was no more thought of the freezing cold as adrenalin galloped through their bodies at the sight of the four serpents, which dived into the lake with deadly speed.
The first two beasts lunged ferociously at the soldiers, surging out of the lake with their scales shining like polished armor. Lasgol, using his Gift, prepared poison. He shot four poisoned arrows in a row from behind the defensive line formed by the men on the stairs. He intended to weaken the beasts, aware that the poison probably would not kill the monsters. The first animal reared up on its scaly body, nearly nine feet tall. With its hindquarters it thrashed at one of the soldiers, breaking his shield in two and sending him flying backwards.
The brave veteran fell on to the steps with a dull crack, his neck broken like a twig. His comrades, enraged, thrust their swords right and left at the silvery sea serpent. Lasgol, calling on his Gift for a powerful shot, pierced the skull of the snake so that it fell dead. Two other serpents attacked simultaneously, coiling round the bodies of two soldiers and suffocating them by constriction. The men tried in vain to fight back with fury, as if trying to wake up from this doomed nightmare. The monsters sank their fangs in the heads of the trapped soldiers, ending their lives amid horrendous hissing.
Toral and the last surviving soldier managed to finish off one of the beasts, while Lasgol, with swift movements shot arrow after arrow as he dodged the attacks of the other. The lethal maw, its sharp fangs ready to tear his head off, brushed his face as he leapt to one side. As the monster turned, Lasgol concentrated his power and let fly a shot that caught it in the eye. Enraged, the monstrous serpent attacked with its body rearing high, chasing the Tracker, but with a nimble leap he dodged the thrust at the last moment. The snake recoiled to attack again. Lasgol glanced at his companions, who were fighting the other beast. A whiplash from its tail sent the last soldier flying to the ground with his spine broken in two.
Captain Toral threw himself against the monster and sank his sword frantically into the scaly body, but the snake caught him. Coiling around his body, it began to strangle him. Raging and desperate, Toral yelled:
“Die, you foul beast! Die!”
Lasgol shot at the beast in an attempt to help Toral. With a final hiss the snake dug its fangs into the Captain’s head, piercing the winged helmet and penetrating the brain. Both beast and brave officer fell to the ground, locked in a mortal embrace.
“Toral! Nooooo!” cried Lasgol in despair.
Filled with anger and pain, he focused on the other sea serpent that was heading for him and shot it in the other eye, blinding it for good. The monster snaked down the stairs, disoriented. Lasgol finished it before it could reach the black water of the lake and escape.
He lowered his bow and looked upon the heartbreaking scene. The lifeless bodies of the brave soldiers lay on the stairs among the repulsive creatures from the deep sea.
“Toral…!”
He ran to the fallen officer.
From the ground, with the fangs of the beast still in his head, Toral whispered: “Here… we fall… like brave Norghanians… sword in hand…”
The Captain died like the brave and honorable officer he was. Lasgol, kneeling beside him, could not help his eyes getting moist.
A sudden feeling of danger ran down his spine like a warning.
The Mage!
He turned round and located him. The strange being was standing under the ice arch at the other side of the great hall. He nocked an arrow and aimed. He concentrated and prepared to let fly: an arrow straight to the heart would finish him. A wise warning of his father’s came to his mind from a distant past: Before a Mage, shoot immediately, without hesitation. Don’t use your power, or you’ll give him time to use his and you’ll perish, as his will be far greater. As he recalled these words the sinister Mage intoned and incantation and aimed at
Lasgol with his staff from the far side of the hall.
Hell! Too late!
At his feet he felt dampness and the clear freshness of running water penetrating his boots. He looked down and discovered that a thin stream of water from the lake had reached him without his noticing. A whirlpool began to form around his feet, rising swiftly up his body and ensnaring him like a liquid sea serpent. In a moment his body had become engulfed in a spiral of liquid with a life of its own. He tried to get rid of it, but there was no way of shaking off the spell. He began to drown. He could not breathe, his mouth and nose were covered by this whirlpool of living water that was swallowing him. It was beginning to fill his lungs. He started to cough convulsively. The water invaded his body. He was drowning.
He dropped his bow and arrow and sank to his knees clutching his throat, feeling his end had come, enveloped in the deadly spiral of that magic whirlpool.
I’m drowning! I’m dying!
In his final moment of awareness, an instant before he yielded to eternal night, he saw a shadow passing his side at a lightning pace.
It was his prey. The Dark Assassin.
And night fell over Lasgol.
Infiltrated
The moon’s pale light bathed the red roofs of the grand houses in the upper city. The nobility and wealthy merchants were sleeping peacefully, sheltered by their riches and luxury. The night-guard of the city of Ocorum were patrolling the high district on their midnight round, returning to the center with ceremonious steps, pacing the cobbled streets energetically.
Komir, hiding in the shadows of a doorway, saw the dozen soldiers pass by in their characteristic uniform. The Great Lighthouse of Egia, the emblem of the city, was clearly shown on their shields and blue capes. At his side, Hartz watched in silence. The two Norriel wore dark clothes under black, hooded cloaks which they had bought at the market in order to blend with the shadows of the night. Hooded and wrapped in their cloaks, they were practically invisible in the reigning darkness.
They knew they had to be if they wanted their plan to work out.
Komir looked to his left, half-closing his eyes. He could make out Kayti in the distance, dagger in hand. She was spurring Lotas toward the entrance gate of Guzmik’s elegant palace. At her side was Lindaro, whose face showed serious concern. Once again Kayti had turned out to be a great strategist, thinking up a plan which would let them enter the well-guarded home of the man who had put a price on their heads. Of course, her plan was infinitely better than the one Hartz had suggested. Komir almost laughed out loud at the thought. A very good plan by Hartz consisted in tearing down the gates and taking the property by force, fighting whoever got in their way. Pure Hartz-style. Komir looked at his big friend, who winked back at him. The giant’s eyes shone with excitement. There was nothing he liked more than a bit of action. He could not wait to stir up some trouble and crush some skulls.
That evening he would have his fun… although things might go terribly wrong…
They advanced amid the shadows, crouching so as not to be seen, as far as the eastern wall of the manor. Here they stayed, listening to the conversation which was taking place at the main gate of the small palace.
Waiting for Kayti’s signal to act.
Kayti placed herself two fingers away from Lotas’ back. She pushed her sharp dagger, which looked like pure silver, against him to let her prisoner know what awaited him if he made any suspicious movement or tried any of his lowlife tricks. The mission was very risky, every precaution was necessary and Lotas was a slippery worm.
“Guards! Call your lord, I have grave news!” Lotas ordered the two guards in yellow and black at the gateway. His stern voice was full of authority.
Kayti, close behind Lotas’ back, kept silent, expectant and alert. On her right Lindaro was trying to maintain his composure, but she could feel his nervousness at the danger they were about to face. She could not understand why he had insisted on coming when he knew that bloodshed would be inevitable. The priest’s motives were his own and she could not understand them, nor indeed had she any desire to. Knowing him, the odds were that he would try to stop things reaching that point. Well-intentioned but misguided man of faith…
“These aren’t visiting hours!” the oldest guard barked. “Leave immediately!”
Lotas did not flinch at the refusal. “It’s imperative that I speak to your lord. Tell him at once of my arrival, quick!”
“Who dares to bother my lord’s rest?” the youngest guard said angrily.
“My name is Lotas… I’m sure it’s a name that will ring a bell… Your lord has charged me with a matter of great importance, and I need to see him at once.”
The two guards exchanged looks of surprise as they recognized the name of the lord of rogues.
“You are Lotas… the Ruthless? Lord of the docks and the lower town?” the youngest guard asked dubiously.
“The very same, in the flesh. I see my good name precedes me. That’s how I’m known in the city. And now that this matter is cleared up, announce my arrival!”
The two guards looked at each other again, unsure what to do, doubt in their fearful glances. After a moment, the elder said:
“This had better be urgent. Otherwise, Lotas or not, you’ll have cause to regret it, that much I can guarantee.” Leaving the threat floating in the air, he turned and went into the house.
Kayti relaxed her shoulders. The tension of the situation and of holding her dagger against the despicable Lotas had cramped her. The villain was doing very well, better than she had anticipated. He was a convincing character. The plan was going ahead as scheduled, but she must not relax for a single instant. The man was like a slippery snake and would betray them as soon as he found a chance, there was not the slightest doubt. But he would pay with his life, she would see to that. At her side Lindaro, wrapped in a grey hooded cloak, shifted nervously. The evening’s outcome was still uncertain and their lives in danger, a danger that seemed to follow them with every step they took.
Anxiety rose from the pit of her stomach: not for the risk to her own life or the imminent bloodshed, but for the fear of a lie revealed, of half-truths uncovered. Guzmik, lord of that residence, could reveal the reason why he was after her, and if he did, she would be awkwardly placed with the two Norriel, to whom she had not told the whole truth. In fact she had just told them what was strictly necessary; without lying, but without all the details either.
On the other hand, perhaps Guzmik did not yet know that she was the person they should really have killed when they attacked her group of the Brotherhood. At least, so Kayti hoped. That despicable sorcerer certainly believed that his ambush had been a success. But they had killed the decoy and not her. They had fooled Guzmik. That had been the plan: to dress her as a plain soldier of the Brotherhood so she would not be the target in any ambush or assassination attempt. It had worked, she was alive, but thanks to the intervention of those two Norriel. Alas, all her companions of the Custodial Brotherhood had perished in the attack. But she would avenge them, she would destroy that Dominator and would let him know his failure. But she must use her head, control her temper, or she would not make it.
The guard came back followed by a gaunt old man in a long brown and white tunic of fine linen. Another four guards appeared from the shadows, weapons unsheathed, and stood behind the new arrival.
“This is not at all what we agreed on, Lotas,” the old man chided him harshly. “How dare you come here? Are you out of your mind? Nobody must know of our complicity, there’s a great deal at stake and your presence here puts us all in danger.”
“You’re not the one I’ve come to talk to, serf,” Lotas replied defiantly.
“Have you finalized the contract we agreed on? I hope so, for your own good. What do you want? The rest of the money? There’s no need, your wages will be honored as soon as we have proof that the contract has been fulfilled. Now, away from here! Discretion is what we agreed on, and you’re not keeping your side of the bargain.�
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“What I have to say is of the utmost importance, and it’s not for your ears, serf. Take me to your lord. He’s the only one I’ll deal with,” said Lotas.
“The only person you’ll deal with is me. If what you want is more gold, you won’t see it until you bring proof. And now leave in silence, or I’ll make you regret it.”
“You’re right, gold is exactly what I want. I’ve got something your lord will pay for splendidly. I have the Envoy of the Custodial Brotherhood in my power…”
The eyes of the gaunt old man opened wider at that name, and for an instant he was speechless. Kayti, who had provided Lotas with this bait, watched the servant’s reaction with great interest.
Would he swallow the hook? The bait was juicy…
She was hoping he would.
Komir had been listening closely to the conversation from a distance. At the keyword Custodian he moved. Hartz leaned his back against the wall, and Komir climbed over his friend and reached the top of the stone wall. Once upon it he helped the giant, pulling him up with brute force. On top of the wall, lying on their stomachs, the two Norriel looked warily into the faintly illuminated garden of the great house’s east wing.
Two guards were wearily doing the rounds on the outside, by the wall. Unaware of the fact, they approached the spot where the two warriors were waiting for their heedless prey, like hawks. When they passed under the two friends Komir and Hartz exchanged looks, and at a gesture from Komir they dropped onto the guards. Hartz crushed one of them with the full weight of his huge body, so that the man sank all the way into the grass of the garden. Komir landed on the back of the other guard and hit him repeatedly in the face. The blows were fast and hard, and his prey was soon unconscious.
They looked around, fearful of having drawn the attention of some other guard who could sound the alarm; finesse and stealth were not exactly their forte. They remained still, listening.