“Circumstances you caused by seizing Arcas Island. That was not what we discussed. That act alone probably pushed Duke Jeldor to side with Elyse. If not for that alliance, her army would be a fraction of what it is now.” Conroy watched Bronn’s arrogant face twist with anger.
“How was I to know she’d be able to convince Jeldor to come to her cause? She had never shown the ability for such things before.”
“It was all tied to Jonrell arriving. Gone for twelve years and then he shows up when she needs him most.”
Bronn laughed. “I almost cried in joy when I learned he was shot by a boy with a crossbow. Just imagine, you fight the battle of your life only to have some foolish child put a quarrel through your heart.”
“He deserved better,” said Conroy.
“Hmm?”
“I never liked Jonrell, but what he pulled off at Cathyrium with the resources and time he had was impressive. And to retake Namaris at the same time? Incredible!”
Bronn grunted. “Pure luck.”
“Luck comes from wise decisions.”
“Is that how you explain Elyse’s decision to make that animal her commander after her brother’s death? Wise?”
“It depends. The reports say most of Kaz’s men would follow him to hell and back. Others, especially the nobles, are eager for the foreigner to meet his demise.”
Bronn’s eyes widened. “You admire him, don’t you?”
“You would have to be close-minded not to. Despite so many things working against him, he’s still managed relative success.”
“Listen to you. It’s almost as if you plan to bow before him rather than the other way around.”
Conroy’s eyes narrowed. “He and everyone else he commands will pay homage to me when I take the crown.”
“You say that, but then you refuse to attack. I could understand your hesitancy if Elyse still had the scepter. That would certainly change things. But Amcaro must have destroyed it before he died. Otherwise, she would have found a mage to use it against us by now.”
Conroy shook his head. “True, but I won’t leave the High Pass undermanned prematurely. Aurnon the Second bestowed its defense to my family centuries ago. I won’t throw my duty away to seek personal glory.”
“Why not at least remove Olasi from the field then? His lands are close enough. We wouldn’t have to travel so far from the High Pass to reach them.”
Conroy smiled. “I already have plans for Olasi.” He refused to elaborate further. “I’ll continue to let Elyse wear down her resources against Tomalt for now. When they are at their weakest, then I’ll crush them. Not a moment sooner.”
Chapter 1
Raker lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He downed the last of the whiskey bottle’s contents in one large gulp. Despite his position, he didn’t spill a drop. Years of practice made him an expert in drunkenness and he had become nearly perfect in the craft since Jonrell’s death. So caught up in war, few had noticed his recent mastering of the art.
Speaking of the art. Raker pressed the glass to his lips. He guzzled air and cursed.
Where’s that kid when you need him? Oh yeah, off with Kroke and Krytien on some assignment for Kaz.
“Hey!” he called out. “You wanna throw me a bottle?” His voice echoed in the stone room. He and Drake, like most of the other officers, stayed in rooms away from the main barracks. Since returning to Lyrosene for the winter, an old place in the back of the armory had become their home.
“I know you’re there. You gonna answer me or just skulk in the shadows?”
A lithe figure emerged from the far corner of the room, stepping into the pale moonlight from a high window. He drew back the black cloak concealing his face and figure. He looked young, barely a man.
I hate kids.
In his right hand, the kid held a knife. “How long have you known I was here?”
“I heard you come through the window.” Raker allowed himself a grin as he watched the young man’s eyes betray his surprise.
“I expected you to be asleep at this hour.”
Raker spat and a glob of tobacco landed between the young man’s feet. “I don’t sleep much these days. I just drink.”
The kid looked at the mess near his feet then up again, disgusted. “So, I noticed.”
“You gonna hand me that bottle I asked for?”
After a moment the kid grinned. “Why not?” He walked over to a nearby table, picked up a full bottle, and threw it across the room.
Raker fumbled the toss, but the bottle thankfully landed in his lap. He popped the cork and took a drink. “Much obliged.” He took another swallow and put the cork back in. “I gotta say I’m flattered that I’m the one to get taken out. I thought you’d have gone after someone else. Kaz perhaps?”
The kid grinned wider. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Our entire guild was hired to take out everyone in the Hell Patrol. A few others as well.”
Raker whistled. “That’s gotta be a pretty big payday. I’m guessing the queen too?”
The kid nodded.
Raker heaved a sigh and turned his eyes toward his mace a few paces away. “Well I hate to tell you, but that knife ain’t gonna do much for you.”
The assassin widened his stance. “You really think I’m gonna let you get that thing? Not that it matters. You’re probably too drunk to wield it.”
Raker smiled a mouth full of stained teeth. “Aye, you’re right. I’ve never been quick on my feet. But that’s the problem with you kids. You get distracted and focus on the wrong things.”
Raker raised the arm he had moved beneath his sheets. It came up holding a rope that he yanked across his body. A missile sailed across the space and impaled the kid through the chest. The impact threw the assassin across the room, pinning his body against a wooden post.
Raker took another drink as he watched the light go out of the kid’s eyes. Then he cursed, realizing the thing worked. He kept telling Drake that firing a ballista with a rope wasn’t important, but the boy had pushed the issue.
Good thing he ain’t here. I’m in no mood to hear him gloat. He cursed again. I’ll have to get someone to clean this mess up tomorrow though. He sighed. I probably should get up and tell someone what’s going on.
He looked down at his bottle. Gotta finish paying my respects first. He eyed the kid whose blood dripped all over his floor. Besides, if all the guild’s assassins are this sorry, there ain’t much to worry about. Good thing Kroke ain’t here. He’d be floored at what they’re passing for a killer these days.
He raised his bottle to the ceiling.
We miss you, Jonrell.
* * *
Zorik opened his eyes, but saw nothing in the pitch-black. He tried to move his hand to his head, hoping the simple touch would lessen the incessant pounding that echoed in his skull. But his arm wouldn’t move and neither would his other. He looked down and saw they had been tied to his sides. Thick rope also bound his legs. He panicked.
What happened? How did I get here?
He struggled, but to no avail.
Though the giant hearth had burned down long ago, the stone near him still emanated heat. Coupled with the stacks of pots and pans off in one corner and several sacks and crates of foodstuffs in another, Zorik remembered he was in the kitchen.
The rest of his memories came flooding back.
The guild had received a big contract, employing all its members to eliminate the Hell Patrol. He wanted a crack at one of the main officers, but since he had botched the last two assignments, they gave him the task of taking out some old woman and her lover.
This was my last chance.
And somehow he blew it. He had snuck easily enough into the building, locating the kitchen soon after. The two targets shared a room adjoining the kitchen’s eastern wall. He had been inching toward a door when something struck him in the back of the head. A low cackle had followed as he hit the stone floor.
A hushed murmuring of voices caught his e
ar. Hinges squeaked and a small patch of light fell into the room.
“I told you its fine. I killed a rat. That’s all,” said a raspy voice.
“Well, then let me help you dispose of it,” said another, more gentle than the first.
“I think after all these years I know what to do with a dead rat. Now go to sleep. You’ll need your rest when I’m done,” said the first voice. Zorik noted the playful tone.
The door shut before the second voice could respond. The light remained in the room, growing stronger with the approach of shuffling footsteps.
A squat figure with long stringy hair appeared by his feet brandishing a cleaver in one hand and a candle in another. The glow of the flame danced across her face. When she smiled, a low cackle pushed itself out from the back of her throat. Zorik’s spine crawled.
She gestured with the cleaver to his crotch. “Scream and I start there.” The ugly grin grew wider. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re wondering how an old woman could possibly take you down, right?”
He nodded, eyes on her weapon.
“All you fools are overconfident. Like someone has to be a member of your guild to understand the nuances of sneaking up on someone and the thousands of ways to kill a person. You see me and think I’m an easy target. But I’ve done more wicked things than you could ever imagine and I take offense when someone tries to harm me or my man.”
“It’s not personal,” he whispered, feeling as helpless as a newborn babe.
The old woman chuckled. “Oh, it’s about to get real personal.”
* * *
Terk gestured at the two men flanking his left and right. Never before had the Assassin’s Guild assigned three men to take down one person, but considering the giant’s size, the master saw it fitting to send three of his best. Terk understood the reasoning once he saw Crusher up close.
Terk had been told the Ghal could sleep through anything, including his own snores, which had pushed the giant to an isolated part of the barracks, away from other soldiers.
He sounds like a wagon barreling down an uneven cobble road.
Overwhelmed by the strong smell of musk, the three men inched toward the bed. One moved to the Ghal’s feet, the other his head, and Terk took the middle. He breathed through his mouth trying to ignore the odor turning his stomach.
The other two cocked their heads confused. He felt it too. Something seemed off. Yet, the giant slept soundly, mouth catching flies while his snores rattled the room.
I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s faking it. And he’s not faking it.
He scanned the giant’s length and noticed how odd he slept, rigid as a board with arms at his sides and covers pulled up to his chin.
You’d think the man was dead if not for the echoing in my ears.
The assassin to Terk’s right waved a hand in a silent question. Terk blinked and then nodded.
We don’t have time to waste.
They raised their knives together, one meant for the throat, the other for the chest, and the last for the lower abdomen. Terk counted off with a slight bob of his head, feeling the watchful eyes of the others.
At the third nod all three blades plunged down. Knives clanked against metal and skidded to the sides, throwing each of the three figures off balance.
What the . . .
The snoring stopped and in a roar covers came off. A massive arm lashed out. The one motion sent the three assassins sprawling. Terk watched the Ghal climb out of bed.
One Above, he’s huge.
The man wore full plate, including a gorget around his neck.
Who sleeps in full armor?
The Ghal reached down and grabbed one of them with his bare hands. Bones popped as the giant closed his grip about the man’s throat.
Crusher threw the body at Terk as he pushed back to his feet. He heard a scream cut short by a sickening crunch and then the heavy plodding of footsteps.
The Ghal stood over him, eyes filled with hate, pronounced brow furrowed. He sneered and raised his boot above Terk’s head.
Three wasn’t enough.
* * *
Leo, the Shadow of Cadonia and Master of the Assassin’s Guild, worked his way down the long corridor with a silent proficiency that none could match. He wore thin black silk, wrapped tight about his body and head, so not even the rustle of fabric would make a sound in the drafty hallway. Stepping lightly on the dark marble floors, he had already slipped by a half dozen royal guards, passing within inches of them while alerting none.
Pathetic.
The palace guards, though well-trained, were below what he considered a worthy challenge. He could have killed them with ease.
Leo had ordered his men to take down the rest of the Hell Patrol, one assassin per target with the exception of the Ghal. He also sent four of his best to kill the queen. Normally, he would have taken the queen himself, but that wasn’t what the job called for.
Their employer had been adamant that only the Shadow of Cadonia could be trusted to take out the Hell Patrol’s leader, Kaz, since none could stand before him on the battlefield. Leo had laughed at his employer’s warning. “I will take him in the shadows. And in the shadows, I have no equal.”
His employer seemed satisfied with his response and smiled, breaking the lid on a large chest of gold. Half the payment for the job. He would receive the rest upon completion, when the troublesome mercenary group and the queen were no more.
And once this is done, I will be set for life. Perhaps I’ll move to Thurum and carve out a small kingdom for myself.
He edged ever closer, ducking in and out of the shadows cast from oil lamps positioned in wall sconces. A half-open door stood at the end of the corridor. Instinct caused him to freeze and he slid twin blades from oiled sheathes. Then he remembered the odd detail about his target. Informants had told him that the foreigner felt more comfortable with the door and windows open.
Something about being less confined. Barbaric is what it is. No matter. I won’t have to double-check the hinges before I enter.
The open window of the room brought cool air into the hallway, reminding Leo that winter still struggled mightily against the inevitable spring weather. He slipped into Kaz’s room, hugging the stone walls to avoid the fractures of light cast about the space. He waited.
He had not become the greatest assassin ever to live, a man whose very name struck fear like an apparition in the stories of old, by being careless. As his eyes continued to adjust he saw the details of the simple room—a desk and chair in one corner, a chest and dresser in the other. A long bed rested in the center and the contours of a great form lay under the covers.
Leo took a deep breath and held it as he made his way to the bed. Kaz slept with the covers tight about him and his back turned to the door.
Leo had never been one to stab a man in the back. He obtained too much enjoyment from the shock in a target’s eyes as he plunged his knife into their chest, that brief moment of clarity when they realized their end had come.
He yanked away the covers, expecting Kaz to turn, but to Leo’s surprise saw only stuffed pillows and balls of clothing.
“Pathetic,” said a deep voice.
Leo’s eyes widened.
He wheeled with his blades, one slashing low, the other high. His target moved in a blur, easily dodging the blows. Leo kicked, but a meaty hand reached out and seized his foot in mid-air, wrenching him from his feet. He lashed out with his knives again, but Kaz’s foot deflected one blow and before he could follow through, he had been tilted upside down.
A fist slammed into Leo’s gut. He fought for air as the room spun. Panicked and trying to right himself, he dropped his knives, knowing he had others. He grabbed at Kaz, but his target’s long arms kept him at bay.
Kaz carried him across the room.
The cool night air cut through his thin clothing. Moonlight shone in his eyes. He looked down and saw the ground below. He started to scream, b
ut another fist slammed into his gut. The vomit had nowhere to go with the black cloth covering his face and the previous contents of his stomach sloshed around his mouth and cheeks.
Kaz held him by one outstretched arm like a toy.
“Am I the only one?”
Leo met the eyes of the dark foreigner. “Tell me how. Who told you I was coming?”
“Answer me first. Am I the only one?"
“No,” he answered honestly, surprising himself.
Because he bested me. What else can I do with the man who brought down the Shadow of Cadonia like he was a common thief?
“Who else?”
“Everyone. All of your crew.”
“And the queen?”
“Yes.”
“Who hired you?”
“Our contract prohibits us from knowing the identity of our employer.”
Kaz grunted.
“Please. Now tell me who warned you.”
Kaz shook his bald head, a scornful look on his face. “No one. I needed no warning for an amateur.”
Leo fell. He thought about screaming or shouting in protest as the ground rose up to meet him. But that word had been too great of an insult. It echoed in his mind, a word he had never remembered being called, even in his early days.
It was the last word he ever heard.
Amateur.
* * *
Kaz spun on his heels, grabbed his sword, and left his room. He raced down the hall half-dressed, cursing at the guards outside to follow him. They obeyed, but the clanging of heavy armor and labored breathing grew fainter with every step.
He refused to slow, knowing that every second counted against Elyse’s life. The assassin had told him that the Hell Patrol had been targeted as well, but Kaz did not fear for their safety as he did the queen’s. The Hell Patrol had lived this sort of life long enough to look after themselves.
The queen maintained half a dozen guards near her chamber door at all times. Yet, Kaz doubted their ability to defend Elyse any more than his had protected him.
A wide mass of stone, the queen’s tower stood adjacent to the great keep. Kaz entered the tower on the third level through an enclosed walkway. Two guards near the entrance lay with blank stares and blue lips, a dart sticking from each of their throats.
Steel And Sorrow (Book 2) Page 2