Assassin's Charge: An Echoes of Imara Novel

by Claire Frank

  Her heart beat hard and her stomach turned over as she watched the other ship. Rickson’s men fired arrows as Athon’s crew pointed ballista at the Maiden. They fired and the large projectiles slammed into the ship’s hull. Rhis stumbled as the ship lurched. Athon’s men turned large cranks to wind the chains that now spanned the two vessels and the Maiden was dragged through the water. Both ships tilted, spinning as their forward motion continued and the other ship pulled them closer.

  More arrows flew in a last attempt to thin out Athon’s crew, but the two ships closed and men jumped across, landing with weapons drawn. In the space of a heartbeat, the metallic clash of blades began in a fury of chaos. Rhis raised her short bow and took careful aim. She tagged a sailor in the back and his sword dropped to the deck before he could strike his opponent. Rhis drew another arrow and let loose, reloading as quickly as her last was spent, and fired into the crowd.

  One of Athon’s men broke through and made straight for the quarterdeck. Rhis shot him as he climbed the ladder and he fell backward with a gurgling cry of pain. Despite her racing heart, a sense of calmness stole over Rhis. She shot again, hitting her mark too low, but it was enough to make him stumble and half a second later he was cut down. The battle below grew to a frenzy as more of Athon’s crew poured onto the Maiden, but everything seemed to slow to Rhis’s eyes. She sucked in a breath, held it, and shot again, and the arrow found its mark. Rickson fought in the center of the melee, his sword flashing through the air, and she was relieved to see no sign of Asher. Hopefully he’d do the smart thing and stay out of sight.

  As if walking onto a deck full of working men instead of into the midst of a battle, Athon boarded the ship. He carried a wide sword in his right hand, his grip casual. His metal arm glinted in the sun, his vest leaving the entire monstrosity bare. Rhis could see where the metal met flesh at the top of his shoulder, the puckered and scarred skin seeming to grow over the edge of the silver. He paused at the rail, showing no care for the blood being spilled at his feet, and turned his face toward the quarterdeck.

  Rhis met his eyes and shot her next arrow but he batted it away, the point pinging off his arm. Never taking his eyes off of her, Athon strode forward through the fighting. His sword lashed out when one of Rickson’s men tried to attack, knocking him aside with brute force. The battle seemed to open for him, like water flowing around a boulder. Two men locked in combat stumbled backward into his path. His metal arm swung in a heavy backhand, knocking them out of his way.

  Rhis shot again. She’d hoped Rickson’s crew would engage Athon as he passed through the melee; if he was distracted, she might have a chance at hitting him. But he moved through without slowing and made his way quickly up the ladder, batting aside Rhis’s arrows.

  A sailor scurried up the ladder behind him, but Athon kicked him down before he’d even reached the top. Despite his seemingly blank expression, Rhis could see the fire in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  Rhis tossed a throwing knife, but he knocked it away without taking his eyes off her face. She pulled another and threw, but he batted it down and took slow steps toward her.

  “I will give you a final choice,” he said. “Come now and you’ll live to see Altia. Continue to resist, and I’ll take your head to Cormant and drop it on his desk.”

  Rhis drew her staff from her back and pulled the sides apart with a quick swipe. She held the blades in each hand and stood ready, offering nothing but a silent answer to his offer.

  A glimmer of a smile passed across his lips. “I’ll enjoy seeing you die.”

  In a heartbeat, he was on her, the force of his arm smashing into her staff. She bent her knees to absorb the weight of his blow, but it wrenched her shoulder. With her other half-staff, she struck. Athon deflected, the edge of his blade sliding across the handle of her weapon.

  Rhis dodged his next blow, ducking to avoid his metal fist. Her two staffs caught his sword as it came down, and she wrenched his strike to the side. He answered with a swipe of his arm and his punch connected, smashing her across the cheek. Pain exploded across her face and blood filled her mouth. Moving with the force of the impact, she dropped and rolled away before his sword could find her.

  Springing to her feet, she turned and spat blood. Athon charged, his heavy stride booming across the wood. He swung again and her half staff met his blow, but the force wrenched it from her hand. She twisted her wrist, grasping at the handle, but in an instant it was clattering across the deck. With her remaining weapon, she stabbed. Athon beat it aside. He struck with his sword, nearly cutting her, and she spun to avoid his hit.

  The strength behind his blows was staggering and, for all his size, he was faster than he looked. Rhis dodged and spun as he pressed his attack, ranging around the quarterdeck. The sound of fighting below fell away as Rhis struggled against Athon. He pushed her backward, his attacks relentless, and her ribs protested.

  He pushed her into a corner against the rail and she twisted, trying to keep from being pinned down. His sword smashed into her half-staff, a blow from his arm close behind. Rhis avoided the strike, but his ceaseless barrage left her unable to mount an attack of her own. She knew it was only a matter of time before he wore her down, or one of his deadly blows connected. Dropping beneath his cut, she rolled and sprang to her feet, but he was on her in a second.

  His next blow knocked her remaining half-staff from her hand and the blade crashed to the deck. She ducked beneath his punch and her eyes flicked to the ladder. Now would be a good time for Asher to come out of hiding and try to play the hero, but no one was coming to her rescue.

  Rhis’s eyes met Athon’s as he lunged. She sidestepped and grabbed his sword arm, using his momentum to turn his blow. Gripping his wrist, she wrenched his arm around, bending it behind his back. He cried out and dropped his blade, but twisted and jerked himself free. His metal arm swung hard, but Rhis let it come, allowing him to close the distance between them. Her hand darted to the back of her head.

  For the space of a single heartbeat, everything seemed to slow. Athon’s fist raced toward her as she plucked the pin from her hair. He moved in as his blow neared her face and her hand darted out, the small needle pinched between her fingers and thumb. As his fist hit her face, the world burst in a haze of twinkling lights. Everything went numb, and her hand went limp, but she forced her eyes to focus on Athon. A sharp line of red ran across his cheek, a single drop of blood growing at the end.

  Rhis hit the ground, her stomach roiling and her head throbbing. Her mouth was sour, and blood ran down her chin. Pushing herself up with her arms, she blinked hard, willing herself to stay conscious.

  Athon grabbed her shirt at the neck and hauled her to her feet. The scratch stood out against his skin and the drop of blood broke free, trailing down to his chin. He drew his fist back but Rhis smiled, wincing at the pain when she moved her split lip.

  “You’re already dead,” Rhis said. Her voice struggled to make its way out of her throat, but Athon’s eyes narrowed and he hesitated. “There isn’t much poison in my hair pins—it tends to rub off—but it’s enough.”

  Athon unclenched his fist and wiped his cheek. Holding up his metal fingers, he looked at the smear of blood.

  “You can feel it already, can’t you?” Rhis said. His eyes met hers and a thought came to her. “You have five minutes, maybe ten. You won’t bring me, or my head, to Cormant. You can die, or you can kill me first and we both die. But there’s another option.”

  Athon kept hold of her shirt. “What?”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Rhis said.

  “I don’t make deals.”

  “You’re going to die. Soon. But I can stop that from happening, and we can both get what we want.”

  Sweat broke out on Athon’s forehead and the color drained from his face. He ground his teeth together and groaned. “How?”

  “Help me save Asher.”

  Athon narrowed his eyes but di
dn’t speak.

  “Asher is an innocent child, and without me he won’t live out the year. Cormant will find out his last assassin failed and he’ll keep sending more. It won’t matter where Rickson takes him—someone will find him, and if he’s lucky they’ll do it quietly. At this point, they’ll probably haul his body back to Altia in pieces, just to be certain he’s dead. But, with your help, I can save him.”

  “Why should I care?”

  Rhis looked him in the eyes. “You do care. You don’t want to let him die, because it wouldn’t be right. He’s done nothing wrong. He even saved your life. But the men who want him dead won’t stop until they’re certain he’s gone. All men abuse their power, and the more they have, the worse they abuse it. The Emperor is the worst of them all. If he’s a god-king, he shouldn’t fear some farm boy, no matter where he came from. You want to fight for justice? Save Asher.”

  “How?”

  Rhis blinked hard against the blinding pain in her head as she spoke. “All you have to do is your job. Take me in to Cormant—alive, obviously—and ignore the fact that I’m not quite as unarmed as I ought to be.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “Kill Cormant.” Athon opened his mouth but Rhis pressed on before he could protest. “He’s a filthy waste of air who’s as responsible for all the murders he arranges as those of us with the blades in our hands. We both know someone else will rise up to fill his place, and there will always be more killers like me, skulking in the shadows. But the gods know he deserves it.”

  Athon shook his head. “It won’t be enough. That won’t save the boy.”

  “I know it won’t, but with Cormant dead I’ll be able to handle the rest,” Rhis said. “I have a remedy for the poison running through your veins. I give you the remedy now, and you live out the day. I go with you to Altia. Get me in to Cormant, take your money, and walk away. That’s all there is to it. Simple.”

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes, his jaw working.

  “I’ll even retire,” Rhis said and Athon raised an eyebrow. “No more contracts, ever. Cormant is my last kill. You’ll have ensured the world is rid of the man behind the murders, taken one of the best assassins in the Empire off the streets, and saved the life of an innocent child. All for the price of one bounty.”

  Athon’s nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. Rhis was impressed. He maintained a stoic face despite the havoc the poison must be wreaking inside his body.

  “We don’t have much time,” Rhis said.

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “You don’t,” Rhis said. “You have to take the word of a killer, and I don’t suppose that holds much weight with you. But I will tell you this: I will do anything to ensure Asher’s safety. I’d even lay down my own life if I had to.” Rhis’s voice broke as she said the words, realizing how true they were. She paused and took a deep breath. “I swear to you, on his life and mine, I’ll bow out. Once I make sure Asher will be safe, I’ll disappear and you’ll never hear of me again.”

  “How do you know I’ll keep mine?”

  “I don’t. But I know you value justice and you can’t ask for a better chance at justice than this.”

  Athon hesitated, his eyes boring into hers, then gave her a stiff nod and let go of her shirt.

  Rhis sprang to action, drawing a padded pouch from an inside pocket. Athon’s tough mask slipped and a spasm of pain passed over his face, perspiration beading on his forehead. She drew out a vial filled with crystalline powder and pulled the small cork from the top.

  “Do you have a flask, or something to drink?” she asked.

  With a trembling hand, Athon reached into his his vest and pulled out a small metal flask. “It’s water.”

  “I don’t have time to mix this properly, so just wash it down.”

  Athon dropped to his knees and Rhis put the vial to his lips and tipped it, dumping the powder into his mouth. He opened his flask and took a deep drink, swishing the water through his mouth, and swallowed.

  He took a few heaving breaths. “How will I know if it worked?”

  “You’ll live,” Rhis said and reached out a hand to help him stand. “Ready to take me in?”

  She held out her arm and Athon grabbed her by the wrist. His face was drained of color and his lips had a greenish cast, but he pulled her in front of him and wrapped his metal arm around her neck. Rhis grabbed it with her hands and her stomach lurched with fear. She’d given him the antidote. He could easily kill her and haul her body to Altia.

  “Stop!”

  Athon held up his other arm and called out again. The fighting died down as the men looked up and Rickson yelled for his men to stop.

  “We have what we came for,” Athon said, his voice booming over the ship. “I take the woman, and no one else gets hurt.”

  Rickson’s jaw clenched and he stepped forward, but Rhis called out before he could speak.

  “No, Rickson, take Asher,” she said. He watched her with wide eyes. “You have to trust me. Go.”

  “Move out,” Athon said and his crew backed away, their weapons still held ready. Several dragged the bodies of their fallen across to the rail and hoisted them onto Athon’s ship. Rickson’s eyes never left Rhis as Athon led her down to the main deck, his metal grip on her arm like an iron shackle.

  “Don’t do this,” Rickson said as she passed. Asher ran up next to him, a splash of blood across his chest and neck. Rhis hoped it wasn’t his own.

  “No,” Asher said, his face twisted with anguish.

  “Go,” Rhis said. “Get him out of here.” Athon hauled her toward the rail and she craned her neck to look back at Asher and Rickson one last time. I’ll come back. I promise. She mouthed the words so no one else would hear, but Rickson and Asher stared at her, disbelief and pain clouding their faces.

  Athon yanked her forward and his crew pulled her across the gap, onto his ship.

  THIRTY-FOUR: UNFINISHED BUSINESS

  Athon treated Rhis as a prisoner, keeping her locked in the hold. Someone shoved a shallow bowl of broth and a hard biscuit into her cell once a day, and they refilled a waterskin with foul-tasting water, but otherwise she was left alone. Only a shaft of sunlight reached her cell through a small crack and she lost track of the days. Despite his locking her up, her agreement with Athon seemed to have held. She was alive, for one. He could have snapped her neck on the deck of the Maiden. And when he brought her aboard, he had personally searched her, confiscating the few weapons she had left. He took her boot knives, and the daggers at her belt, and found a few more small blades tucked into various hiding places on her person. What he didn’t touch was her hair. Three pins still held her blond locks in place: two smaller pins, tipped with poison, and a larger stick with a razor sharp point.

  The ship rocked as it cut through the water, presumably bound for Altia. The days blended together and Rhis alternated sitting cross-legged on the dirty floor, running through her plan in her mind, and pacing up and down the width of the narrow cell to stretch her legs. Her face was swollen and her lip was split wide enough that it would probably leave a scar. She probed her tender injuries regularly, feeling for signs of rot. It was a relief to pass her tongue across her teeth and feel them all keep their place. Her face must look a sight. It was probably better that she had no way to see it.

  Rhis sat with her legs crossed, her hands resting on her knees, and counted her heartbeats, trying to ignore the pain in her cheek. Her stomach gnawed with hunger, and she had a sour taste in her mouth that wouldn’t go away. With deep breaths, she tried to breathe away her anxiety, using the steady rhythm of her counting to soothe her worried mind. It was maddening not to know for certain how long they’d been traveling or how many days were left until they would reach their destination. It seemed as if they should be there by now.

  The ship’s motion seemed to change and Rhis opened her eyes. She’d grown accustomed to the steady feel of the ship’s hull cutting through the water w
ith only occasional pulls to one side or another. One day they had apparently sailed into a rough patch of weather and the ship rose and fell on the waves, the sound of the crashing water almost deafening. But this was different. It felt as if they were slowing.

  Time seemed to come to a standstill while Rhis waited. The ship slowed and turned, the floor beneath her leaning to the side several times. Faint voices worked their way into her hearing and the muffled sound of boots scurrying across the deck drifted below. Rhis got up and paced, tonguing the tender place where her lip was split, as if it were an itch that she couldn’t resist scratching.

  Footsteps approached and the lock rattled. The door opened, and even the dim light made Rhis squint. She winced as pain shot up her face.

  “Let’s go.”

  Her eyes hadn’t adjusted well enough to see who spoke, but she followed him out of the hold and up onto the main deck. The light blinded her, after so many days in the dark cell, and she held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. Her stomach lurched and her cheek throbbed, but she pulled in a deep breath and swallowed back bile.

  Altia rose from the turquoise water, a shining city of pale limestone. The busy harbor was thick with masts, and smaller vessels darted in and out among the larger ones. Buildings rose from the waterfront, covering the hilly terrain. Coral and red roofs contrasted with the proliferation of cream-colored stone and light gray stucco. Gardens provided bursts of green, and trees broke up the endless mass of limestone. The Emperor’s palace soared above the rest of the city, set on the highest hill, its massive spires casting a wide shadow across the buildings below.

  Rhis gazed at the city that had been her home for the last decade, until the sailor grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the stern.

  He led her into the captain’s cabin. Athon stood near the back, looking out the large rear window, his arms relaxed at his sides. A tub of steaming water stood in the center of the cabin. The sailor left without a word, closing the door behind him.