City of Assassins

by Farah Cook

  My head feels sore and is aching. How did I let this happen to me? All seems lost, even Frederick. The assassins outplayed us; we didn’t have a chance. They must have seen right through our weaknesses. I wonder what they’ve done to Frederick. Is he still alive? My senses are numb, and I feel inept. Without the sword, my powers, and the tree to protect me, and without Frederick, my life is hollow.

  Why do I always have to do things my way? I failed to listen to Frederick most of the time and now because of me, he is in danger or could already be dead.

  The door to my cell creaks open. I see the chestnut brown eyes of a guard looking at me.

  “Oy! Get up!” he says. “It’s time for battle.”

  “You can’t make me,” I say. “I’m not going into anymore battles, so piss off.”

  “Silly slave girl,” he says. “If you don’t, we will kill your companion.”

  13

  FREDERICK

  THE ASSASSINS left me in the gutters. In this black hole of emptiness that stretches endlessly for miles, marked by nothing but shadows of the dead rambling restlessly underneath the city.

  There’s no sunlight, a thick fume coats the air, and I feel forgotten among the dead down here. I have no memory of how I was dragged and dumped. I only recall Harald’s face laughing, his eyes full of hatred and misery.

  The moaning from the countless, soulless wraiths does not scare me. They walk through me like I, too, was a shadow, and it makes me wonder, am I dead or alive? I escape the shadows and pull out a small dagger from the side of my boot.

  I stole it from one of the bazaars the other day. I suspect the assassins don’t care if I live or die. They have no interest in me. But when Harald left, he said I needed to survive for the test ahead of me. But what test is he talking about? What does he want to see?

  The gutter is cool and moist, and the stink in the air tells me I have to head west, where the blend of spices and charcoal soaks the dry air above me. It could take me a day to get out.

  I think back at the disappointment in Nora’s eyes when she thought I was deceiving her. Sooner or later she’ll realize what she is capable of. The ancient runes are powerful forces. Not only will they unlock the door to the Nine Worlds, they also give Nora temporary powers to defeat her enemy. She is unaware of this gift. Does she even care about the mission she’s been given?

  She can’t possibly care about the Goths. I cannot believe she cares for anyone right now except herself.

  The smell is unbearable. I tear a strip of cloth from my shirt and wrap it around my mouth and nose. I have only my heightened senses and the ten-dinar dagger I stole from the market to rely on.

  After walking for what seems like an eternity, I see rays of light and a glimpse of the sun lowering in the clear sky. I feel the warm, dense air haunted by chili and lemon flavors from the endless souks, so sharp and tangy it burns my nostrils. I lick my dry lips. They are parched with thirst, and my legs are in agony. My powers are passive now, like someone flicked off the switch. I am unable to connect to my emotions, my abilities—the things I was relying so heavily on to get me the hell out of here.

  My escape route is nowhere near. As I leave the darkness of the gutters, I come out to an odd part of the desert. Everything is red: the mountains, the wind worn rock formations, and the silky sand. But there’s life in this place. To my left I see acacia trees and tumbleweeds rolling. I shift around when I hear the fluttering of feasting birds and set out at a steady jog.

  My fatigued body blends with the blue hazy atmosphere, and my eyes struggle to stay open. I want to collapse after a mile of running through thorny shrubs, but then I smell something, and it’s not spices or even pickles or apricot jam. I smell smoke and death.

  The day disappears and turns into a velvety night with no stars glinting, just a glowing moon. The smell fades and is replaced with my own scent. I taste the salt from my sweat and collapse suddenly on the dry baked earth. My clothes chafe my skin from the sweat and the gutter dirt still coating me.

  The gritty sand sticks to the corners of my eyes. I do not drag my body across the hot sand; I just lie flat, dizzy, dehydrated, and numb from hours of walking. All I see is her face, and she has the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. It feels so real, and I reach out my hand to touch her.

  “Nora? Nora?” But it’s not her; it’s something else. It’s a large mass of black. I curl my fingers to feel my dagger. My strength fails me, and it slips out of my palm. I pick it up and tuck it into my belt. I turn my face in horror, knowing that this hideous black creature might kill me. But instead it opens its slimy mouth and gulps me in like I was no more than a little crumb. Everything turns dark and my senses go numb.

  14

  NORA

  THE CREATURE’S SAGGY purple face is livid. Through the seeping flesh, the ancient bones protrude, black and gray. Its fingers are long and sharp, its arms and legs, thin sticks, and its body an overwhelming mass of brown flesh. When I move my eyes to see the face it holds, there’s none. Just a skull with carved hollow eyes and a nose.

  The creature touches the ground. Its breath smells like death and rot. My neck cranes anxiously to meet the eyes of my ancestors, who observe me with great pleasure from one of the towers.

  I’ve been placed in the middle of an empty arena, with no weapons. I rely on my inner strength and raise my fists to protect myself against the odd creature ready to lunge at me.

  “Soon, I will eat you, slave girl,” it says in a hoarse voice like scraping sandpaper. “Don’t resist; it’s less painful if you let me swallow you.” I try not to panic and remember battling with bigger and uglier creatures like Noddabah in the Forbidden Areas. But back then, I had Frederick and Mina and my sword.

  I turn my eyes to the assassins with their stern and cold faces. Is this meant to entertain them? Or do they want me dead?

  “Is this some kind of joke?” I shout. “Do you really find this scenario amusing? To watch me battle against this ugly creature.”

  “It’s your test, slave girl,” says Henrik. “No one has defeated the monster, Djangal. He serves us and in return we feed him living things. We haven’t fed Djangal in weeks. He’s starving, I assure you.” Henning and Henrik’s laughter echo in the air.

  “There’s not a lot meat on my body,” I say. “I don’t think Djangal will be happy chewing on a witch’s bones.”

  “You admit your defeat then?” says Henning looking surprised.

  “There’s no way Djangal is having me for dinner tonight.”

  “Prove it,” he says. “Your strength should be more powerful than ever if we are to believe the prophecy. If we are to believe who you say you are.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I’ve traveled five hundred years to lie about who I am.”

  “You’ll face battle or die.” says Henrik. His voice echoes in the arena.

  Why are Vikings so hungry for battle? Hundreds of years, past or future, we still choose to savagely kill one another to prove a point. If that’s what they want, I’ll give them a show to remember.

  “By the gods,” I say, looking at the creature. “I’ve defeated uglier and smellier looking monsters than you.”

  Djangal opens his mouth and hisses at me, his teeth sharper than shards of broken glass. He leaps at me. I sink my fist into Djangal’s abdomen. He howls and strikes me, knocking me to the side like a fly. I roll and get to my feet, but my leg is hurt. I can barely stand straight. Djangal moves fast toward me like he wants to crush me. His empty eyes fixate on my every move.

  The monster strikes with his sharp fang. I stagger back, unharmed. Something comes between me and Djangal—a small, black shadow with gleaming daggers in its hands. Mina. The creature screams, and the blood tainted ground beneath me shakes. Mina’s daggers go through Djangal’s skin. The snarling creature strikes again but misses me.

  But the monster doesn’t miss Mina. A fatal blow and Mina flies against the far wall, her spine crushed with a hard crunch, her body sliding t
o the floor. I scream, my hands reaching for her. The echo of my voice is captured in the empty arena. My tears blend with the sweat dripping from my body. If only I had my sword to give me the strength. I need to finish this monster off. Because of it, Mina is dead.

  I tear my eyes away from Mina’s lifeless body. I pull out the daggers from the monster’s gooey flesh. I roar like a wild beast and leap at the vile creature. I raise the daggers high, and stab the sharp blade into his skin. But something doesn’t feel right. The monster’s shape and size is beginning to change. It takes human form. I fall and stagger back, almost trembling. It’s not a monster; it is a shape-shifting creature transfiguring. The form it has taken turns into Frederick. I rub the itching sand away from my eyes. It can’t be. This must be an illusion or a spell. I’m being tricked.

  “Frederick?”

  “Nora,” he says in his deepest and darkest voice.

  It doesn’t sound like Frederick. It’s an illusion, some kind of Viking spell.

  “How do I know it’s really you?” I hesitate to kill him. What if it is Frederick?

  “It’s me; the creature swallowed me,” he says and leaves the vessel that carried him behind. A slimy dark substance coats his body. The bits of skin that covered him crumble away like paper in flames.

  “I was trying to break free. I tore its flesh with my knife from the inside and pulled myself out. You nearly killed me with those daggers.” The look on his face is relieved. He lives, but he will not be happy when he discovers what the monster did.

  I look to the other side. Frederick’s eyes follow mine. That’s when he notices Mina’s lifeless body crushed against the wall. He stares at the assassins who look down at us. They stand like tall pillars. Evil is smeared across their faces. Holger cackles, his chest bouncing. Henrik clenches his fists into hard balls. Harald’s nose is blazing fire. The anger in his eyes is poisonous. They make no move and watch us like hawks, following our every move, our every fear.

  “What happened?” he says. “Is she alive?”

  “The creature you were possessed by killed her.” I say my voice breaking. I fall to the ground. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach wrenching. Mina is gone. I couldn’t save her. I did nothing.

  “What?” Frederick’s voice echoes in my ears like a thousand screams. I know it is him. He is back to normal. He quivers. There’s a deep hurt in his eyes. “She can’t be dead!” He runs across the ground. He takes Mina’s lifeless head into his lap. I am certain it is the normal Frederick and not some evil monster in disguise. I follow him, my numb legs carrying me to her. I crouch down and see that Mina is still breathing heavily as if counting the last she has left.

  “Promise you stay together,” she says. “Together, you conquer all.” Her eyes are shutting, her lips quivering. The blood drains from her face, tainting her skin in a deep dark red.

  “I swear it, Mina,” Frederick and I say at the same time. He looks at me. The pain in his eyes is grave. Mina smiles one last time before her eyes shut forever. I hear voices echo and the same ugly laughter. Min is gone. The pain I feel inside my heart twists and writhes like a knife. The feeling is unfamiliar, devastating and different to when Robert died.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Stay together,” he says. “Keep our promise to Mina.”

  Anger shoots through my body. I slap Frederick hard. He glares at me, his teeth gritted. He grunts like a wild animal.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  “For betraying me and lying to me,” I say. “And for giving me the wrong answer. Tell me what are we going to do now that all hope is gone? Mina is dead, and it’s all our fault.”

  He cools his red-marked cheek with his hand, and tilts his chin to meet the assassins’ eyes that glare at us in silence, feeding on our misery, taking pleasure in our loss.

  “If only you’d listened to me,” he says. “Stubborn girl.”

  “Is this all my fault now?” I say. “I gave you the choice to stay behind. Now, look what’s happened. We don’t have the weapons. We lost the sword and now face an ugly death. The evil assassins will steal the runes from me and rule Midgard. Hell, they might even join forces with Lord Nourusa. The world will be in eternal darkness because we failed.”

  I open the palm of my hand to show him the runes. “You see that?”

  “What are you trying to show me?” he says, bewildered.

  “You don’t see it?”

  He shakes his head. “See what?”

  I remember the Wizard’s words of wisdom before we left the City of Vikings. I know what we need to do next.

  The assassins come down to the arena with burly looking guards who carry Mina’s body. I watch her head slip away from Frederick’s lap. My hand is a tight fist. I feel tempted to pounce at the assassin lords. Their faces are maps of misery and contempt. Shame washes over me. I am related to these monsters. I carry the same urge they do, to kill.

  “Leave her,” I yell. I control the tears in my eyes. I feel the burning in my eyes as they narrow.

  “Why morn death when it’s just the beginning of your unprecedented journey,” says Henrik and cackles. “More is still to come, delightful slaves.”

  “What was that monster that killed Mina?” Frederick growls. He charges, as if he wants to leap at Henrik, but I hold him back.

  “Djangal is a shape shifting creature that feeds on others fear to gather his strength in battle. You gave in the second it saw you. He took your strength to kill what you care about. But I must admit, I did not expect you to defeat Djangal carving your way out of his skin. Have you passed the test we set before you? I’d like to think you did. But you also failed.”

  “You’re evil to the core!” I say. I may belong to their kind, but I will never be like them. I take no pride in what I might become after this day, but I will take the pleasure in killing the nasty heads that stare me in the face. They can’t change their destiny, and lucky for them they do not know about it. Whatever prophecy they believe in, is false. I see myself in their image. How do I cut loose from the curse? I cannot fight the urge to kill. It runs through my blood like poison.

  “It is not we who seek something. It is you who must give us what belongs to our kind,” says Harald. “Without it, you’re not leaving Arres.”

  “You don’t care about killing your own blood?” I say.

  “There’s no such thing,” says Harald. “In our time, you are not even born yet.” His face hardens.

  “Are you prepared to sacrifice more lives of those you care about?” Henrik says. He places the sharp blade of the sword on Frederick’s throat.

  “No,” I say. “I will not have you kill my brother.” The words leave my mouth so suddenly, like some spontaneous declaration.

  “Brother?” laughs Henning. “Even if I believe that a slave girl is from our bloodline, I can tell you there’s no male bloodline after ours to carry the legacy of the assassins. Women carry the cursed blood, after us. Not men.”

  “Frederick is my brother; his name is William Janus Hunt.” All three lords laugh out loud. “We’re under Justus Markus’ curse. Because of him our line is corrupted to female carriers of our legacy.”

  “We can smell our own blood.” Harald says. “You, William Janus Hunt are not a descendant of the Viking assassins.”

  He digs the sharp blade harder against Frederick’s throat.

  Frederick and I share a moment of hope where all seems possible again. Deep inside myself I didn’t want to believe what Robert told me. Why did he lie to me? He believed in peace among the Viking clans and set the example in his council. What made him spin up a lie that would separate me from Frederick?

  “The witch of a mother who bore you is seeking the fortune of the gods for herself,” Henning says. “She stole it from us, the sword is mighty and powerful. It rules all the other weapons. She also refused to set us free.”

  “What do you mean?” Thoughts flicker rapidly through my mind. Karen has deceived her h
usband, her daughter, and her ancestors. She’s a dangerous woman, but she’s also my mother.

  “Nora! This is your final warning,” says Henrik. “Either you set the curse free—” His sharp blade presses against Frederick’s neck, drawing a line of blood. “—or you watch your friend die.” The sword doesn’t stop; it continues to cut into Frederick’s flesh.

  15

  FREDERICK

  THE BURN OF the steel bites into my throat. I can’t help thinking is this what happens when you’re about to die? Excruciating pain and eternal darkness. I fall to the ground, my vision blurry and my senses dim. Nora’s screams fill my ears. Her despair is uncontrollable. She lunges at the assassins and through the dust and heat, I see her as if in a dream. She’s battling against the three vicious killers; her only weapon is inner strength.

  The old wizard’s words echo in my mind.

  Trust your instincts, follow your heart, and believe in battle and your inner strength when all hope seems lost. Nora is up against her ancestors with nothing except her own unique abilities, fighting against powerful, evil forces. She gets hold of the sword and the other weapons land at her feet. She turns slowly to look at me. The air is dry and breathing feels like swallowing fire. I hold her gaze, but not for long.

  “Frederick!” she cries. “Hold on, you hear me?” But I can’t. My hand travels to my throat and comes away dark with blood. My senses are shutting down. Life is leaving my body. Nora’s green eyes lock onto mine as she roars at the assassins who powerlessly step back. Nora’s abilities have come out. She’s stronger than ever and is crushing the guard’s skulls with bare hands and smashing their weapons into pieces as if they were glass. Her cries are loud, angry. The assassins run away.