Tower Of The Forgotten

by Mitchell Hogan

  Matriarch Yolandi’s jaw worked, as if she was grinding her teeth. She stood there for a few moments glaring at him, but then her expression softened. “Maybe you’re right. I haven’t met her Chosen Sword before. One of my predecessors did. She wrote of it in her journal. A man whose description is remarkably similar to yours.”

  “I have some questions I’d like answers to,” Niklaus said.

  “Don’t we all? I’ll do my best. Is this all you’re here for? There’s something I’d like you to take care of. A merchant has—”

  “In due time. I have a more pressing matter. She has spoken to me. She has marked a man.”

  A hiss came from Yolandi, a rush of indrawn breath between her teeth. “Who?”

  “A sorcerer. A man named Rakine Johannis.”

  The matriarch’s face fell. Her fingers sought the hem of a sleeve and she worried at it. Niklaus saw her hands were covered with scars, as if someone regularly cut lines into her skin with a sharp blade. “Then you have a problem. He’s Tainted Cabal, and has dealings with the Twisted Rune.”

  “Blood and damnation,” Niklaus swore under his breath. Tainted Cabal . . . that made his task much more complicated. But the goddess wouldn’t ask this of him unless she knew he’d succeed. Would she? “I’ll put him down like anyone else. I’ve gone up against sorcerers before.”

  “Not like this one you haven’t. He’s no low-level follower. Rakine is one of their leaders. And the rumors are their top men and women are part demon.”

  “Are the whispers of his dealings with the Twisted Rune true?”

  “We hear things . . . maybe.” Yolandi turned her back to him, as if the conversation were distasteful to her. She made a show of watching the novices go about their duties.

  “Are they true?” pressed Niklaus. Sorcerers were hard to kill, and he couldn’t afford to be blindsided by a lack of information. The Twisted Rune sorcerers were bad enough—powerful men and women who prolonged their lives through arcane practices—but the Tainted Cabal were another level of malevolence, fanatics who knew no rules, brooked no dissent.

  Yolandi sighed. “Yes. Though they steer clear of each other for the most part. In our histories, we have had a few encounters with the leaders of the Tainted Cabal. And some of them definitely had powers different to sorcery. It has been surmised that the descendants of demons often have talents that normal humans do not.”

  “Such as?” He recalled a few passages in his journals that covered the talents of the Tainted Cabal sorcerers. Glamours and preternatural senses, the skill to reflect sorcery back onto its creator, the ability to remain unnoticed, even in a crowd.

  “One priestess tells of how a Tainted Cabal sorcerer could sense when danger was close by. Another of enigmatic sorcery a woman could use to enchant others.”

  “I’ll just have to be extra careful, then.”

  Yolandi shook her head and brought a finger to her cheek. “We have some sorcerous devices we’ll give you. They should help in getting past sorcerous wards; we have one that will conceal you from detection. I’ll authorize their release to you.”

  “Good.”

  The matriarch turned and met Niklaus’s gaze. “And I’ll assign a high priestess to assist you. The goddess gives us great power to use as we see fit.”

  Niklaus stood slowly then rubbed the back of his neck. “I work alone. I find others only hinder my progress.”

  Yolandi glared at him, and Niklaus realized she’d probably not been denied in quite a few years. The other priestesses would adhere to her every word. After all, the goddess spoke directly to her.

  A pang of jealousy surged through Niklaus at the thought. He quashed it ruthlessly, as he always did. Why the goddess spoke to her priestesses and hardly ever to him was a sore point. She had chosen him above all others. There were many matriarchs but only one Chosen Sword.

  “Are you well?” Yolandi asked.

  Niklaus realized his hands were clenched into fists and he was breathing hard. With a conscious effort, he spread his fingers and slowed his breaths. “Do not concern yourself with me.”

  “We are all of the one faith,” Yolandi said, concern on her face. “If there’s anything I can do to—”

  “There’s nothing!” Niklaus snarled. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll kill Rakine tonight, then leave this city immediately.”

  A gasp escaped Yolandi’s lips. “No! You must stay. We—I—have so many questions. Any knowledge of—”

  “If Rakine is Tainted Cabal, my returning here will endanger you. Leave a message for me at the Gray Shield Inn, with the name of the favor you require. If I survive and if I’m able, I’ll complete it on my way out.” Niklaus rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sword belt. “I also need some coin.”

  “I’ll see to it. And we have a master alchemist in our employ. He might be able to furnish you with a trick or two, in case something goes wrong.”

  Niklaus gave Yolandi a respectful nod and made his way across the church to the exit.

  He could feel the woman’s eyes on his back as he left, an itch between his shoulder blades, and the feeling followed him for a good few city blocks.

  ~ ~ ~

  Niklaus made his way to the roof of a building across the street from Rakine Johannis’s mansion. It was an old town hall topped with a bell tower, which had been abandoned. The bell was missing, and the access hole had been boarded up long ago. Now, the timber boards were covered with a mess of birds’ nests and droppings. Sleeping pigeons didn’t stir as Niklaus crept past them and nestled in close to the edge of the roof, with his back resting on the bell tower.

  Already the two moons, white Chandra and red Jagonath, were high in the darkening sky, although the edge of the sun had only just touched the horizon. Ideally when hunting sorcerers, you wanted to strike just before sunup or sundown, before they’d been able to replenish their arcane reserves from either the dawn-tide or dusk-tide—the two forces sorcerers used to power their cants. Even more ideally, you imprisoned them underground where the tides couldn’t reach them, until their hoarded power leaked away to nothing. Then you slit their throat.

  Three stories below him, Niklaus could see a tall, lean man clad in supple leathers and carrying a longer than usual sword across his back, muttering to himself and scanning the street. He’d followed Niklaus for a few blocks, until Niklaus had ducked into a narrow alley and swiftly clambered up a rickety staircase behind the building and then onto the roof. Smoke poured from two terracotta caps on a nearby chimney, though luckily there was hardly any breeze and it drifted almost straight up.

  Another glance toward the street below confirmed the man had given up his chase and was hurrying back the way he’d come. There was a slight chance he’d been sent by Matriarch Yolandi, but it was far more likely he was either a swordsman hired to avenge Draglor, or someone who’d decided to pit his skills against Niklaus’s. Word would have spread of Draglor’s defeat, and the city’s finest warriors would be curious. Some would desire only to meet Niklaus and take his measure, but others wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d crossed swords.

  Hard leather scuffed against tile, and Niklaus turned his head. A small dark form scampered lightly across the roof, heading toward him. A thief, probably.

  The interloper stopped, sensing something was amiss. A thin hood sewn onto a dark gray shirt concealed the thief’s features. Niklaus shifted his weight and cleared his throat, making his presence known.

  The thief stood still for a few moments before continuing. He perched on the roof’s ridge.

  “I don’t know you,” the man said. His voice was high-pitched, as if his balls hadn’t yet dropped. He was short and skinny. A youth, then.

  “Keep moving,” Niklaus said, “or you’ll regret getting to know me better.”

  “That’s my spot.”

  “Not tonight it isn’t.” If this was the thief’s spot, then he’d been casing Rakine Johannis’s mansion . . . Was this good fortune or the goddess’s ha
nd? “Wait. I have a few questions.”

  “Move somewhere else and I’ll answer.”

  “How about a gold talent instead?”

  A few moments’ hesitation, but when the thief settled into a more comfortable position, Niklaus knew he’d made up his mind.

  “Gold first.”

  Yolandi had been good to her word, and Niklaus had picked up a full purse from her earlier. He fished out a coin and tossed it in the thief’s direction, where it was snatched out of the air and then disappeared.

  “How long have you been casing the mansion across the street?”

  “A few weeks.”

  Interesting. That was a fair amount of time. Either this young thief had a good deal of patience, or he was part of a team. “Are you going to do the job, or is there a group of you?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Fair enough. Does the good Rakine Johannis have any set appointments? A set time and day he’s always out, or in?”

  “What are you planning on doing? I’ve spent a lot of time on this job, and I don’t want it screwed up.”

  “You do know Rakine is a sorcerer, don’t you? Also, he’s Tainted Cabal.”

  The youth gave an amused chuckle. “You’re kidding me. Tainted Cabal are a myth.”

  “If Rakine is robbed, he’ll be able to track down who did it. And that situation won’t have a happy ending. You’ll be feeding the fish in the ocean or worms in someone’s garden. Or maybe you’ll just be used for sorcerous experiments. I hear the Tainted Cabal are always looking for warm bodies to violate.”

  “I . . . no. I didn’t know. Maybe you’re lying so you can steal his valuables yourself.” The young man cursed fervently under his breath. Niklaus could almost feel his frustration. He’d lost weeks of time in an instant, and he was obviously working alone.

  “Cut your losses and find another target,” Niklaus warned. “This one will get you killed.”

  “Then why are you here, watching? You’re going to kill him, aren’t you? You’re an assassin.”

  Niklaus shook his head. “I’m not a simple assassin. And my business is none of yours. I’ve a few more questions, and then you can go home and hug your mother, or your lover if you have one. And you can thank whatever god or goddess you pray to that you met me tonight. If you hadn’t, you’d have met an untimely end.”

  “I know more about the mansion and Rakine’s movements than you do,” the thief said. “I could save you a great deal of time if you’ve the coin.”

  A smart move. He knew when to quit and worked the angles. “All right. I have another three gold talents with your name on them. But first, do you have any contacts down at the harbor? I’m leaving soon and I need to book passage.”

  The thief nodded. “Where to?”

  Niklaus thought for a moment. “Anywhere will do. Surprise me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  In an alley, narrower, darker, and more silent than many others, Niklaus worked his way toward the end, where he could see the wall surrounding the estate of Rakine Johannis. Storied tenements so old they leaned out of true over the alley blocked most of the moonlight, and a thick mist hung upon the city. There was barely a whiff of breeze, ensuring the chilly blanket would remain until morning. At least it would keep most people inside.

  He didn’t particularly like dark and dank alleys, but the thief he’d encountered insisted on meeting him here. Niklaus’s boot skidded on something squishy and slick. No, he really didn’t like alleys.

  “Psst,” came a whisper.

  Niklaus could see the boy clearly, though he was in the deep shadow of a doorway’s recess. In addition to his hood, he now had a cloth covering his face, only leaving his eyes exposed. A sensible precaution.

  All this skullduggery didn’t sit well with Niklaus. He preferred direct action, but you always had to be careful when dealing with sorcerers, and especially the Tainted Cabal. Some, the most powerful, were able to breach the veil to the abyss and bring forth demonic minions to serve them. The only drawback was that demons were sadistic creatures who delighted in inflicting pain and misery upon people in order to sate their inhuman lusts. Only the higher order demons exhibited more complex thought processes, with the demon lords perhaps surpassing even the brightest of scholars.

  “All right,” Niklaus said. “Unlock this gate for me, then you can go.”

  “I’m coming inside with you,” the thief said.

  Niklaus still didn’t know the boy’s name, wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was probably a made-up street moniker anyway. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am. I’ve spent far too long on this job to come up empty-handed. I have expenses, you know.”

  “Three children and a wife who has a fondness for silks and gaudy jewelry?”

  “Something like that.”

  The youth was barely old enough to shave, but what did Niklaus care what he spent his coin on? He was stealthy enough and looked to have a decent head on his shoulders. Time wasted arguing was time Rakine had to replenish his powers, or grow suspicious of strange whisperings outside. Eliminating a member of the Tainted Cabal was surely a feat worthy of a visit from his Lady.

  “You stay behind me,” Niklaus said. “Remain hidden until I’m done. Then you can take whatever you like, but not before. Got it?”

  The thief nodded eagerly. He held out a hand for Niklaus to shake. “We have a deal. I’m Sly Diamond.”

  Niklaus couldn’t help himself; he laughed as he shook the boy’s hand. “Did you make that up yourself?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. If you enjoy being laughed at.”

  “I like it.”

  “It certainly stands out. Well, let’s go.”

  Sly stared daggers at Niklaus for a moment then pursed his lips. “There are men looking for you,” he said cautiously. “A green-eyed man with black hair and dusky skin. Wearing two swords, who maimed Draglor in a fight. They say you’re a great swordsman, and many want to test their blades against yours.”

  “Fools,” Niklaus said. “Most of them haven’t drawn their swords outside of a training yard. And you can only fight the way you practice.”

  “Will you teach me? The streets in Riem are tough to grow up in, and—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “I said no.”

  Sly glared at him for a few heartbeats, then with exaggerated care slipped from the doorway. “I’ll persuade you,” he said firmly. “I know a place where you can give me lessons. It’s a room off the main sewer, close to the harbor.” He slunk along the wall of the alley.

  Niklaus suppressed a sigh but followed. They stopped at the main street and waited until it was clear. Across the cobbles, Niklaus could see a gate set into an opening in the wall, half covered with ivy. It looked like no one used it anymore.

  Sly darted across the street with Niklaus hot on his heels. Both of them were able to fit into the door’s recess. Sly took a large bottle out of a pocket and poured oil on the hinges and into a padlock.

  “Are you sure you have enough?” Niklaus asked dryly.

  Sly gave him a blank look. “It’s useful for many things.”

  The gate was secured with a heavy chain. From the stains already on the ground and the gate’s iron, he’d obviously done this a few times before in preparation. He then took out a set of lock picks and set to work.

  In the street, a cart rumbled past, and from somewhere close by came the sound of a woman’s laugh. With the fog, it was difficult to determine the direction of the noise.

  “There,” Sly said. He jerked the padlock and it clicked open. Both hands on the gate, he moved it slowly back and forth so the oil worked into the hinges. The gate’s squeaks quickly diminished.

  The boy’s thorough and well prepared. I’ll give him that. “Tell me, Sly, why are you a thief? A man needs a greater goal than just coin.”

  “I can tell you didn’t grow up poor,” the thief said. “There’s nothing greater than foo
d when you’re starving. What’s your purpose, then? Since you obviously don’t have to worry about coin.”

  “I . . . follow my goddess, the Lady Sylva Kalisia.”

  “She looks after you?”

  “In a fashion. At least I don’t want for food or a place to sleep.”

  “Maybe you can tell me more about her.”

  “Maybe.” Her church didn’t often take in boys, or men, but Sly’s skills were useful. “Let’s go,” Niklaus said. He patted his shirt and pockets, checking over his inventory: the amulet and pouch of dust Yolandi had given him, along with two vials of a volatile alchemical mixture.

  They entered the estate, and Sly looped the chain through the gate and hooked the padlock through two links. To anyone who happened to examine the gate from outside, it looked locked and secure.

  They brushed through leafy plants and raced across a manicured lawn. A peacock cawed, followed by another. The birds were rare in these parts, imported from the jungles in the south at great expense.

  “I’m going to own a few of them one day,” whispered Sly. “I heard they taste better than chicken.”

  “A noble goal. Now, show me where the basement entrance is, and then make yourself scarce.”

  Sly approached the mansion and slunk along the side of the building. He reached a short stone stairway leading down to a green-painted door, and quickly picked the sizable lock. Inside, the basement was empty of servants. A mouse scurried across the floor before disappearing under a table. Ropes of sausages and legs of ham dangled from hooks set into the ceiling. Crates of foodstuffs and barrels of wine lay stacked in orderly piles. Rakine must host a fine party, if the labels on the wine were anything to go by. Along one wall stood a bottle-filled rack, and Niklaus brushed dust off one. Alchemical spirits. Expensive and usually hard to procure.

  “They’ll fetch a good price,” said Sly. He took out a sash of bottle sleeves, which he slung around his chest and began filling with a precise selection of small bottles of high-quality and expensive alchemical spirits.

  “You’re well prepared. Don’t sell them all. Keep one for yourself. You should partake of the finer things in life when you can.”