The Trials (Assassin's Intent Book 1)

by Lanford, K. W.

  Aram suddenly looked around, realizing he was in the town and out of the Order compound. "What if Master Camen catches me here? I should head back to the compound."

  "Master Camen would be furious!" A voice came from the shadows beside the wall. Master Camen stepped out of the shadows and continued. "Victor, however, which is what my friends call me, would be thoroughly impressed with that most unusual landing."

  Aram just looked at him suspiciously. "So, would you be Master Camen or Victor in this particular situation?"

  Master Camen laughed out loud. "Victor, my boy. From hence forth, for you my name is Victor."

  Aram looked confused. "But I haven’t even completed my training. I still have five years of Acrobatics to learn."

  Arlaina laughed. "I just taught you to ride the wind in a few moments. How long do you suppose it will take me to complete your training?"

  The implications of his particular gift suddenly came to light. "I could take the trials tomorrow!"

  Victor waved a hand. "The trials are a formality only. As far as I am concerned, that flight, not to mention the landing, is more than enough to be considered a trial. I for one have had enough of this skulking about in the dark alleyways. Let us retire inside this fine inn, have a few drinks and discuss our futures."

  They walked into the inn and Aram looked around in wonder. He had spent the majority of his life living in the humble surroundings of the Order. The relatively average inn wasn’t the nicest inn in town, but it wasn’t a dive for cutthroats and drunkards either. The tables were nice, deeply polished oak. The floors were wooden, yet clean and polished to a shine. Aram was drawn to the one tapestry hanging on the wall opposite the huge fireplace. It was the depiction of a castle, with the sun shining on one side and the moon on the other. There was a balcony over a huge courtyard full of happy, smiling people. A king and queen stood on the balcony, the happy couple proudly displaying their baby boy. Everyone looked so happy, like the scene from a fairy tale. Victor finished talking to the proprietor and led them all into a private room with a large table and comfortable chairs.

  After they had all taken seats and the bar maid had brought them all large tankards of mead, Victor looked at Dimsey. "Would you mind checking the privacy of this room?" Dimsey made a quick but thorough sweep of the room, returned to his seat and nodded to Victor.

  "I know each of you have many questions, most notably young Aram here. I want to begin with an apology to you, Aram. Due to the danger your true identity would impose upon you, I must keep that a secret for awhile longer. I have carried that burden for fourteen years; a few more months shouldn’t matter that much.

  But look at me getting ahead of myself. Let me try and answer all of your questions, starting with the easiest. First, how did I know you would all be here? Dimsey knows you all too well, Arlaina. We both knew you wouldn’t be able to deceive the boy, so we had a plan in effect. When you came to him tonight, he sent a messenger to me. I rode into town with three extra horses while you were all still sitting in Dimsey’s office. Next, I would like to ask a question of my own to Aram. My boy, have you any idea what you are? Not who, but what, you are, what you have been trained for?"

  Aram thought about it and shook his head. Victor continued. "You, Aram, are most likely the highest skilled, most effectively trained assassin in the realms. Think about all of your training. You have a deep understanding of every weapon we had access to. You are even lethal unarmed; this I can vouch for personally. There isn’t a door, or lock, that could bar your way. The shadows are your personal veil of invisibility. After one more session with Arlaina, to complete your acrobatics training, there will not be a wall you cannot scale without a total disregard for falling. The rooftops will be your personal highway."

  Aram looked sick to his stomach. "I can’t be an assassin. I have no desire to run around killing people for money. Perhaps you should have trained Rix."

  Victor laughed out loud. "That, my boy, is exactly why you were the right choice! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had unleashed an unrestrained killer on the lands. Nobody says you have to use your talents in that way, but that is what you are. Suppose I were to tell you that someone in power had murdered Tollis’ dear uncle and got away with it? Would that be reason enough to use your skills?"

  Aram thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps, given proof of guilt. I wouldn’t, however, go and murder someone based on hearsay. Why me though? Given my particular ability to transfer information, why can’t I just make you an assassin willing to play out your vendettas?"

  Victor looked suddenly crestfallen. "They aren’t my vendettas. I didn’t want to tell you this, but you're forcing my hand!" Aram leaned back in his chair, waiting patiently.

  Chapter Four

  The Secret

  Victor sighed in frustration. "I noticed you looking at that tapestry in the other room there. It is a picture of another time. I see I have made a mistake by sheltering you from the world outside the Order. I will rent you a room here in this inn for a few days. I want you to compare the current mood of the people here to the image of the people in that tapestry. Do you know who the king is today?" Aram shook his head no. "His name is Langstam, Broden Langstam; sound familiar?"

  Aram’s eyes widened. "Stolly’s father?"

  Victor nodded. "Do you know who was king before him?" Again, Aram had no idea. "His name was Blackenwood, Aramis Blackenwood."

  Aram let out a low whistle. "That explains a lot of the tension between Stolly and Tollis. How did Stolly’s dad take the throne from Tollis’ dad?"

  Victor patted his hands in the air. "No no, not Tollis’ dad, his uncle.

  The man in the tapestry, Aramis Blackenwood, was a king of the people. A man of honor and integrity. Under his reign the taxes were less than half what they are today under Langstam."

  Aram nodded. "Okay, so how did he take the throne from Tollis’ uncle?"

  "Broden Langstam was chief advisor to the throne; a position granted to him by King Blackenwood. When the prior king passed away he had no heir. There were two likely candidates to be named. Broden and Aramis were both noblemen with distant relations to the crown. Broden was related to the king's side of the family, while Aramis was related to the queen's side.

  The old king was wise. He told both men to go home to their lands and after next harvest; each was to bring as much proof as he could of how profitable his holdings were. Broden was relentless on his people. Come harvest time, he took from them all they could afford and then some. It was a very hard time for some of his people, with too little food to make it through the next winter.

  Aramis, who had a much smaller holding, didn’t demand a tax from his people. He merely told them what the king had tasked him with and accepted donations, many of which he refused. His people, in their desire to have him as their king, tried to give him more than they themselves could afford, willing to face the harsh winter in return. Aramis wouldn’t have it. He took no more than the normal tax they endured every year. There were exceptions obviously, for many of the people were doing quite well under his leadership. From these fair few he accepted more.

  Come time, Aramis arrived at the castle with two wagons of grain and goods. Broden, however, arrived with six heavily laden wagons. He actually laughed at Aramis in the courtyard before all the common people.

  The king sent them back home without saying anything to either. In the deepest part of winter, there came a knock on the Blackenwood door. When it was opened, there stood the king. He had traveled the lands under the care of Broden and seen poverty and starvation abound. He then came to Aramis’ lands, where the people were fed, the cattle were fat and the children were happy. He'd always had a fondness for children; some say it was because he couldn’t have any himself, try as he may.

  Anyway, back to my story. Right there in the entry hall of Blackenwood manor, Aramis was named future king. He and his young wife were taken to the castle where they would live until the old king’s fina
l day. During this time, the old king had taken Aramis under his wing, sharing his wisdom and knowledge of how to run a kingdom.

  As you can imagine, Broden was livid. He claims his people starved due to the folly of the old king. After the old king had passed away, King Aramis invited Broden to be chief advisor to the throne, some say as consolation, but I know better. King Aramis, his wife Mayla and I were all very close friends. King Aramis saw the importance of having the Order here in the kingdom and even before I was affiliated with it, he was helping fund it with the people’s taxes. Nobody complained because back then, due to the throne, the tuition was affordable for nearly everyone who chose to attend. That said. King Aramis once told me he had given the position to Broden to better keep an eye on him. Sadly, he didn’t keep a close enough eye on the snake.

  Broden had used his time at the castle to do some research. He had found an obscure law pertaining to the rite of succession. It said that should a king have no heir, the throne would pass to the closest living relative to the king not the queen. He used this to start an upheaval in the kingdom. Although he had a few supporters to his claim, the majority of the noblemen in the kingdom were happy with the way things were and saw no reason to dig up ancient history. Then something happened that Broden couldn’t ignore. King Aramis and his wife had a baby boy, an heir. He had to act.

  The scene depicted in the tapestry is of the infant's name day, where his name would be announced to the world. It was rendered for an occasion that never came. The night before the name day, King Aramis was murdered in his sleep. Queen Mayla and the child vanished. Broden Langstam was named king shortly after. Those are the facts I can give to you. Do I know beyond doubt that it was Broden who murdered the king? No. But in my heart I know: if it wasn’t him, it was by his command. Does this still not compel you to stand up for justice?"

  Aram considered it for a moment. "What would it change? Let’s say I find some proof. Would Tollis’ father have a claim on the throne? Would I have to kill Broden, then have to murder Stolly for what his father had either done or ordered done? Wouldn’t that throw the kingdom into chaos? The same chaos the old king wanted to avoid to begin with?"

  Victor sighed. "Why did you have to be so damned smart? What if I told you I knew where the child was and that should he not desire to rule, he could name a steward to rule in his stead until his heir was ready for the throne?"

  Aram had a look in his eye. "What about the child’s mother? What would become of her, the rightful queen? If the child lives still, then so too must she."

  Victor looked up in shock! "I have never even considered that! Although the kingdom has been ruled by kings for the last few hundred years, it hasn’t always been so! You’re a genius! I withdraw my complaint about you being smart. Perhaps you will not have to kill anyone. If you could somehow discover proof of foul play, she could be reinstated, giving the boy time to grow into the king his father was.

  Okay, I have much to consider. Take a few days here at the inn; see the sights, meet the people and most importantly, look into their eyes for something worth fighting for."

  Victor started to stand, but Aram stopped him. "Wait, please Victor, I have one more question." Victor sat back down, worry spreading across his face. "Who is Kandice Browman and what part does she play in all of this?"

  Victor looked stricken. "Where did you hear that name?"

  Aram looked perplexed. "I don’t know exactly, I just know when I asked you about the child’s mother, that name popped into my head."

  Victor sighed. "I will have to be very careful around you, I see. If you must know, she is your mother, but her husband is not your father and he doesn’t even know you exist. She brought you to me when you were only four years old and I promised to keep her secret as long as possible. It is funny indeed that fate has brought you and Apprentice Rix together. He is your half brother. She will be coming to his trials in four days. I ask only that you say nothing of this to her or Rix until I can speak with her myself."

  Aram just sat there in silence. Victor got up to leave, bid everyone good night and left the room. Dimsey too, stood up after a few moments and left. Just as Arlaina was about to stand, Aram came out of his dazed state. "Please, Arlaina, play the part of master one more time before you leave?"

  Arlaina smiled her beautiful smile and winked at him. "How can I resist such a charming young man?" An hour later, as she left the inn, Aram was shown to his room with the knowledge of five years worth of acrobatics.

  Chapter Five

  A shadow in the Night

  In Aram’s estimation, the room he was given was almost unbearably plush. Instead of the thin, rather hard, mattress he had in his dorm, the bed had an incredible six inch thick feather mattress. The furnishings were all polished hardwood instead of the rough naked pine adorning the Order. He was suddenly very tired. Most likely due to using his ability, he supposed. He took off his boots and new favorite cloak and lay on the bed. The soft mattress seemed to surround him in comfort and before he could appreciate it fully, he was asleep.

  Aram awoke with a start. The room was lit by the lamp he hadn’t put out before falling asleep, but it was still pitch dark outside. By the placement of the moon it had to be close to midnight: the time of the assassin, his time. His short rest was wonderful and he felt wide awake. He put on his boots and cloak and then slipped quietly out of his second floor window.

  The inn had five floors. From his perch on his windowsill, Aram easily spotted great hand holds and climbed to the roof of the building with ease. He walked the perimeter of the building inspecting his surroundings. The two buildings to either side of the inn were only two stories tall with about a fifteen foot alley way in between. Aram estimated the jump in his mind and considered it trivial.

  What he was looking for was a true test of his new skills. There were several three story warehouses on the other side of the thirty foot wide road. The nearest one he estimated to be a good fifty feet away, more than likely too far for even his skills. So instead, he locked his boots into his cloak, grabbed the handles and flew. His landing was perfectly smooth and silent. He nodded to himself, then sprinted across the rooftop and leaped to the next building.

  From the rooftop of a warehouse some four blocks away from his inn, he heard a voice in the shadows. "I’ve told you. That is all that I have. Please let me go!"

  Aram looked down into the alley. There on the street were four men; one dressed in semi-nice clothes, the other three in the armor of the royal guard. The leader of the guardsmen poked a finger into the man’s chest. "The king doesn’t like to have to send us out to collect his overdue taxes. If you were to get away with it, then the next guy would try and then the next. Soon it would be nothing but work, work, work for us and how are we to be compensated for doing our civil duty if slackers like you refuse to pay us a pittance?"

  The man in street clothes looked truly frightened. "But, I paid my taxes on time and in full and I have just given you all that I have left!"

  The guardsman sneered at him and slowly drew a dagger. "Then it seems you will have to pay me the rest in blood."

  Aram had heard enough. He leaped from the building, landing a mere ten feet from the closest guardsman and smoothly stood. "I am not entirely sure what is going on here but it looks like robbery to me."

  The three guardsmen all turned as one to face him. Aram looked past them to the terrified man and indicated with a slight shake of his head for the man to flee. The man took the hint and bolted. He ran around the corner of the building, but Aram could just make out the outline of his head peering back around the corner. It seemed he would have an audience.

  The leader of the guardsmen brandished his dagger casually. "Look here boys; we have ourselves a criminal, interfering with the king's good works."

  Aram laughed. "You call harassing a citizen in the middle of the night 'The king's good works'?"

  All three guardsmen sneered at him. "As long as we bring in the taxes, the king lets us
do his work as we see fit. You are obviously not from around here, or you would know better than to interfere with our business. Just out of curiosity, before we make an example out of you, who are you?" Aram laughed and stepped into the shadows. The leader of the three dropped into a crouch, dagger at the ready. The other two both drew swords, then they all three started looking around with surprise on their faces.

  Aram tapped one of the swordsmen on the shoulder. The man turned and blindly swung his sword, neatly taking out the throat of his comrade. As the man gagged, choking on his own blood, Aram thought to himself, one down.

  The two remaining men placed their backs to one another, turning a slow circle and trying to watch in all directions. "Show yourself, coward!" yelled the leader. The second swordsman suddenly reached out to slash at something, but quickly returned to place his back against the leader's. "Did you get him?"

  The swordsman whispered, "No."

  As they continued to circle, the leader came around and noticed the two dead bodies of his comrades lying before him. But his back was still pressed firmly against … who? He quickly spun around, slashing with his dagger. He felt a hard slap against his hand and his dagger went flying into the alley. He reached for his sword, but the scabbard was empty! Then he felt the cold steel point against his throat and slowly backed up against the wall. "Who are you?"

  Aram leaned in closer. "Tell your king, I am the ghost of King Aramis Blackenwood and I have come for his soul!" The sword clattered to the ground as Aram vanished into the night.

  Aram left the alley and found the man he had saved still watching from the corner. He had a look of awe and wonder on his face as he turned, running towards the nearest tavern. Aram followed. He slipped into the tavern behind the man. The lighting was poor and the air full of smoke. Aram felt he could almost walk unseen across the center of the room. He didn’t take that chance. Instead, he followed the man while staying close to the walls, within the deepest shadows.