Imperial Assassin

by Mark Robson

  There was a momentary pause, then the tent flap was thrown open and Lutalo stepped out. He took one look at Reynik and his face broke into a broad smile.

  ‘Reynik! It’s good to see you. Come inside. I very much want to hear your report.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he replied, nodding his thanks to Tam, who saluted Lutalo before turning and setting off back towards the gate. The Commander returned the salute, before ushering Reynik inside his tent. Once inside, Reynik was surprised when Lutalo caught him in a big hug.

  ‘Where have you been, son? I was worried sick about you. Didn’t you stop to think that I might want to know where you’d gone? I didn’t dare tell your mother you’d disappeared off on some secret mission. She would have been frantic. I only found out you’d gone when I took over here after Sateris was murdered, but no one could tell me where you were.’

  ‘It’s a long story, Pa. It’s also very complicated. There are things I must tell you that you won’t want to hear, but I have no choice. The situation is spinning out of control. The Emperor did not fully realise what he was beginning when he declared the Guild of Assassins anaethus drax. We’re both in terrible danger – you especially. Pa, you’re going to have to leave the Legion for a while. If you don’t, you’ll be killed. The Guild have accepted a contact on you.’

  Lutalo looked at his son with a penetrating gaze. He was silent for some seconds before he replied.

  ‘I think you’d better sit down and tell me this story, Reynik. I want to know exactly what you’ve got yourself into. How do you know details about what the Guild of Assassins is planning?’

  Reynik sat in the chair his father indicated, took off his helm, and in a hushed voice he began to speak. He relayed the whole story, complete with a brief account of what had occurred in Thrandor. Lutalo regarded his son intently throughout. When Reynik finished the story, his father sat back in his chair with a curious smile on his face.

  ‘Son, what can I say? I’m incredibly proud of you. You’ll make a fine commander one day. I always knew you had it in you, but now I’m doubly sure. Gen . . . Emperor Surabar has used you, Reynik, but in the long run it will put you in a strong position to advance your own cause.’

  ‘If I survive long enough to use it,’ Reynik commented with a bitter edge to his voice.

  ‘Yes, son, that’s often the big catch. But have faith. You’re here. You’re still alive. You have gained a lot of critical information that you must take to the Emperor. I suspect that with what you already have, you could break the Guild of Assassins if your insights are used to best effect.’

  ‘Femke will have already taken the majority of the information to the Emperor. I managed to pass on the critical stuff earlier today.’

  ‘Good. From what you’ve told me of this spy, I’m sure she’ll give credit where credit is due. You’ve done well. I would not have had the stomach to do some of the tasks the Emperor set you. Killing in battle is something we’re trained to do. There are those amongst the Legions who go out of their way to look for trouble. They itch to try out their skills. I do not believe this to be the case with you. I can see the depth of your distaste for the assassin’s trade, and I can only admire you for having followed through the Emperor’s plan in spite of your feelings. Consider it ended, Reynik. You’ve done enough. You must go to the Emperor now. When the Guild realises that you’ve not carried out your task, they will look to track you down and kill you. Only the Emperor has the resources to protect you properly.’

  ‘But what about you, Pa? They sent me to kill you. They’ll send others. I’ve seen some of these people, Pa; they’re deadly. They move more silently than the mist, and kill without compunction. Commander Sateris died in this very tent. You’re not safe here.’

  Reynik’s father looked him in the eye.

  ‘I know, son. I admit the knowledge has struck fear in my heart, but I cannot give in to fear. If I ran away, what message would that give to the troops? A Commander is a leader, Reynik. I know you understand. I must lead by example. However, I promise you that now I know for certain they’re targeting me, I’ll initiate a whole host of extra security measures around the camp. I will not let them get to me easily.’

  In his heart, Reynik knew that no security measures would stop a top rank assassin. Someone like Shalidar would dance past patrols as if they did not exist. But it was also clear that his father’s mind was made up. Pressing harder would only serve to anger him, and Reynik did not want to part from his father on a sour note. Instead, he got to his feet, caught his father in another hug and stepped back.

  ‘Take care then, Pa. I’d better leave. I’ll go straight to the Palace. Can you give me something with your seal on it to allow me out of the camp? The guards were insistent about no one allowed out on his own tonight.’

  ‘No problem.’ Lutalo went to his small table, took a piece of parchment and carefully inked a short message on it. He lit a candle and melted some wax, dripping a small pool of it onto the bottom of the sheet. Then he pressed his seal firmly into the wax. ‘Good luck, son. No matter what happens, always remember I’m proud of you.’

  Reynik smiled gratefully. The sickness that he still felt from having killed for the Emperor had receded a little. He knew it would never go away, but it felt good to have his father’s blessing. He rolled the parchment, tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his cloak, replaced his helm on his head and saluted. Commander Lutalo saluted back.

  Outside the tent, the temperature had dropped further. The stiff breeze added a chill factor that made the air feel positively icy. Reynik settled his cloak more evenly about his shoulders and did up one further clasp, fastening it together at his upper chest in addition to his throat. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then set out along the main path through the campsite back towards the guard post. Behind him a shadowy figure stepped silently from where he had been eavesdropping in the deep shadow behind Lutalo’s tent.

  Shalidar had not been able to hear everything, but he had heard enough. Wolf Spider was the Commander’s son – an interesting development. On its own, this information might have given the Guildmaster cause to excuse the newest Guild member from completing the kill. The Guildmaster had been known to show compassion in the past. However, Shalidar had heard the Commander exhort his son to go to the Emperor. The circle was complete. The link to the Emperor had been established. Shalidar knew he could act without fear of reprisal from the Guild. As an infiltrator, Wolf Spider had to be eliminated – quickly.

  The assassin trailed his prey for about a minute to be sure his talk of going back past the guard post had not been a ruse, then he doubled back. Shalidar would get a fee for killing an infiltrator, but while he was here, he intended to earn the ten gold sen for the hit on the Commander as well.

  As he re-approached Commander Lutalo’s tent, Shalidar could see the commander’s shadow. He was standing close to the nearest sidewall of the tent and verbally running through potential security measures he could instigate to make life difficult for assassins to penetrate the camp. Shalidar grinned. He did so love irony.

  Since becoming the Dragon, Shalidar had killed many times, using many different weapons. He always preferred to make kills up close, so he could watch as the life left his victims. The sense of power he gained by taking another’s life made him feel god-like. Yet he was not so power-struck as to ignore the opportunity for an easy kill. Silent as the shadow he cast, he drew his sword and stole up to the tent. With a thrill that bordered on ecstasy, he drove the blade through the canvas and through the Commander’s body. Lutalo’s voice stopped mid-word. Shalidar twisted the blade and wrenched it free.

  The body fell with a lifeless thud, but the assassin did not wait to see if it would move again. He was already on the move. The father was dead. It was time to deal with the son.

  Shalidar moved through the camp like a breath of wind – silent and invisible. His form melted into the darkness, submitting to its enveloping embrace and wrap
ping it around him like an extra layer of clothing.

  He had thought he would catch up with Reynik before reaching the guard post, but his prey was moving faster than he had anticipated. As he approached, the young man was already talking to the guards. Shalidar paused for a moment in deep shadow. He knew where Wolf Spider would be heading. The young man would go straight to the Palace. He had promised his father as much.

  The quickest way to the Imperial Palace was along the central street that ran right through this quarter of the city. Shalidar decided the best thing to do would be to intercept him further into the city, where his friends would not hear him if he were to call for help. It would not take much effort to get ahead of him. The only question remaining was how to make the kill. The uniform, with its protective elements, made a killing knife-throw from any distance less easy. No, he thought. It will be far more satisfying to kill him with the same blade that still runs with his father’s blood. No military brat possesses enough skill with a blade to worry me. I’ll run him through, as I did his father. There’s a certain poetic feel to killing both in such a fashion.

  Reynik had a few problems convincing the guards to let him back out of the camp on his own. However, the parchment with the Commander’s written authority was enough to see off the most stubborn objections. With admonitions to be careful ringing in his ears, he strode along the main street towards the city centre and the Imperial Palace.

  He had walked no more than four hundred paces when a shadowy figure stepped out from a side street to his left and angled across the road towards him. Reynik’s hand went instinctively to his sword hilt.

  ‘Stop where you are! Come no closer, or I’ll draw my sword. I have no wish to harm you,’ he warned, his voice ringing out loud and clear.

  ‘Sorry, young master, I didn’t mean any harm. I was only goin’ to ask if you’d a few coppers for an old veteran.’

  The stranger’s voice was querulous and pitched like that of an old man, but Reynik was suspicious. Anyone out on his own after dark in the city at the moment was potentially dangerous. Reynik was too on edge to allow strangers to get close without getting a close look at them first.

  ‘Step into the light of that lamp. Let me see what you look like,’ Reynik ordered, pointing at a lamp a little further down the street.

  The shadowy figure put his hands out in front of him with his palms forward in a sign of peaceful intent. He sidestepped carefully until he was standing in the pool of light under the oil lamp. As far as Reynik could see, the man was an ordinary old man dressed in poor clothing. His cloak appeared torn in several places. From what Reynik could see, his other apparel was in a similar state.

  ‘I’m sorry, friend. I didn’t mean to appear hostile, but despite all the patrols, the streets of Shandrim are not safe these days. I suggest you choose better lit areas to do your begging if you want to avoid getting hurt.’

  ‘Good advice, young sir, but the streets in the richer parts of the city are run by villains who would be quick to kill me. They don’t want people like me walking their areas. They only give one warning. If seen a second time, they dispose of those who trespass on their territory. What choice do I have? I’m too old to be of use to anyone. I was once a soldier like you, but I no longer own a sword. I have nowhere to live. I’m reliant on the charity of strangers. It’s not much of a life.’

  Reynik felt pity for the old beggar, but he was still wary. Keeping his eyes on the old man for any sign of foul play, Reynik fumbled in the dark to find some coins. When he had found some, he laid them down on a paving slab at the edge of the lit area and cautiously moved on, taking a wide line around the man standing under the street lamp.

  ‘Bless you,’ the man said. Then he suddenly yelled, ‘Look out!’

  Reynik had been so intent on the old man, he had not noticed another figure closing in on him from further down the street. The warning was timely. Reynik’s sword cleared his scabbard in a flash and, by instinct, deflected the new stranger’s blade several times. The ring of steel on steel sounded loud in the quiet evening street.

  Forced back by the dark figure, Reynik moved into the dim pool of light given off by the street lamp. The stranger followed him, his sword constantly in motion.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ the old beggar yelled out, grabbing his coins and staggering off down the street in a shuffling run. Over his shoulder he shouted again. ‘He’s doing no harm. Leave him alone.’

  ‘Brother Dragon!’ Reynik grunted, as he realised who he faced.

  ‘Brother Wolf Spider,’ Shalidar acknowledged in a rasping whisper as he whipped his blade around in a slashing stroke. Reynik barely deflected it. He could just see a sneering smile under the shadow of the assassin’s hood.

  ‘What are you doing? What of the bond of the Brotherhood? The creed? Why are you trying to kill me?’

  Shalidar paused in his assault for a moment, his sword held poised. ‘The Guild does not tolerate traitors to live, Reynik. You should have completed your mission this night. The Guild offered you a place in our family. A man cannot give allegiance to two families without creating a conflict of interests. As you’re also working for the Emperor, you’re doubly a traitor. I will enjoy telling the Guildmaster he was wrong about you, but I will gain even greater pleasure from collecting the fee that was to be yours. Now I must send you to join your father. The bounty for a traitor’s head is sure to be substantial.’

  Reynik’s heart was sinking as Shalidar named him a traitor to the Guild. Had the assassin told anyone else? If Reynik could kill him, would he be safe to go back to the Guild headquarters? Then he froze as the import of the last few sentences sunk in. Shalidar had killed his father . . . Shalidar had killed his father! The feeling in his stomach switched from cold, leaden dread to white-hot rage in the blink of an eye.

  In those first few seconds it took a supreme effort of will to hold back from launching into a berserk attack. A combination of his military training and his lessons with Serrius saved him. The gladiator’s words in particular flashed back into his head.

  ‘Never fight angry; I allowed my opponent in the arena to get me angry and look what happened.’ Reynik had seen Serrius’ scars before, but the visual impact of the entry and exit scars where the gladiator had been run through had lost none of their value. ‘Peace and balance must be at the centre of your being, or you will lose awareness and poise. Be at peace. Focus. Control your breathing. Allow your balance and speed to be your strength.’

  Somehow, Reynik clamped down on his anger. He was not in a mental state of peace and balance, but he kept his emotions under control as Shalidar attacked again. The assassin was a master swordsman, but he was expecting an opponent with little more than a basic military training to draw on. It took a moment, but Shalidar soon realised that this was no ordinary young soldier.

  Reynik met Shalidar’s attack with flowing strokes and fine balance. There was no woodenness about the way he handled a sword. The drills that the Legions favoured in developing fighters who could work together in lines without maiming the person next to them were not in evidence. Reynik held his ground, matching the assassin stroke for stroke, and countering with some elegant blade work of his own.

  The ringing tones of the two blades meeting in rapid sequences sang loud, echoing down the street. Sparks flashed from the blades with each impact. Reynik could see that Shalidar was superior in skill and technique, but what he lacked in skill, Reynik made up for with speed and fitness. After an extended exchange of blows with neither protagonist breaking through the other’s defence, Reynik began taunting the assassin in an attempt to provoke him.

  ‘What’s the matter, Shalidar? Lost your touch? You’ve got slack, that’s what it is. You’re so used to stabbing people in the back that you’ve lost your edge.’

  Shalidar ignored him. He knew exactly what Reynik was trying to do. It would not work. He began to circle his opponent, stalking him like a big cat. Reynik, too, began to circle, keeping up a string of taunts.<
br />
  Leaping in close, Reynik suddenly took the fight to Shalidar. There was another clashing exchange, as Reynik drove forward with a vicious sequence of strokes, but Shalidar met every swing with a solid defence. Reynik sprang back, but his assailant followed, catching him momentarily off balance.

  Shalidar’s blade flashed at Reynik’s neck. Somehow, Reynik blocked it, but the follow up stroke was just too fast for him and it impacted his chest plate. He was lucky that the blow was a sweeping one, rather than a lunge, or his light armour would not have saved him. However, as he was already moving backwards, the strike on his chest armour was enough to overbalance him. He fell, deflecting another stroke even whilst in the air. The impact with the cobbled street was painful, and his helmet came loose, spinning off across the stones with a noisy clatter.

  The assassin’s blade speared down towards Reynik in a killer lunge. Somehow, with a twist of his body and an inspired parry, Reynik turned the blade aside and the point struck the cobbles a hair’s breadth from his body. Shalidar had been forced to come in close to make the lunge – too close. With another mighty twist, Reynik kicked Shalidar’s legs out from under his body, dumping him on the cobbles in a fall that was every bit as hard as Reynik’s.

  Both men scrambled to their feet. Another sound intruded: the sound of running feet – booted feet. A formation of Legionnaires was running along the street towards them, swords already drawn.

  Shalidar did not hesitate. He turned and ran. Reynik went after him. The assassin was fast and silent. When he turned off the main road into a side alley, Reynik skidded to a halt. It was one thing to chase Shalidar up a lit road, but quite another to try to follow him into the shadows. He had no choice. He would have to let the assassin go.

  ‘I’ll get you next time, Shalidar!’ he called.

  There was no response. He was gone. The Legionnaires were closing. He could not afford to waste time explaining himself to every File Leader who thought they should know what was going on. He had to get to the Palace quickly. If Femke were to get into the Guild headquarters, it would have to be done quickly, before the Guildmaster thought to set a watch on his room. Reynik turned and ran on up the main road.