The Stiehl Assassin

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The Stiehl Assassin Page 7

by Terry Brooks


  And now, perhaps, if she was right in her reading of the meaning of those airships, win her father over, as well.

  The morning was about two hours advanced when she reached her destination. Ahead, the Mermidon’s surface shimmered bright silver with the emergence of the new day, and streams of sunlight pierced the forest canopy on both sides of the river. But then she glanced farther on and saw that things were not at all what she was expecting. Immediately she slowed her little craft to fully take in what she was seeing.

  The skies on both sides of the Mermidon, for as far as the eye could see, were filled with warships. Their huge dark shapes were clearly outlined against the eastern horizon—shapes that she presumed to be Skaar warships to the north, and what she knew for certain to be Federation warships to the south, facing off against each other with the river between. Most were transports or battleships, huge and dominant, but they were flanked by dozens of smaller vessels, as well.

  Clizia surveyed the massed ships, her mind whirling. To a casual glance, it looked like battle was imminent. But if the Skaar warships were indeed the vessels she had seen flying overhead two nights ago, this standoff had been under way for at least a day. So what were they waiting for? What would be the spark that fired this tinder? She certainly didn’t want to find herself the cause. Frowning, she landed in a patch of open rolling grasslands that formed a part of the foothills fronting the giant Dragon’s Teeth. Entering the Skaar encampment to see the princess and her father might require a bit more subtlety than she had anticipated.

  She powered down her airship and sat back in her pilot box, considering her options. Act now and go in or sit back and wait to see what might happen?

  Act now won out.

  * * *

  —

  On their return, Dar and Brecon built a fire in the clearing where they had left Drisker and Tavo Kaynin. Tarsha stood off to one side, and no one said much of anything until the task was accomplished. Then all of them crowded close to the flames to warm themselves while Drisker explained what he had done to Tavo.

  “We’ll take him with us.” He glanced around, meeting the eyes of each in turn, making a silent assessment. “I know this is cause for some concern, but I think the inhibiting magic of the collar he now wears will serve as a preventive measure against any misbehavior. Tavo understands what will happen if he disobeys me, and he is grateful that we are giving him another chance and letting him remain with his sister.”

  He glanced at the young man, drew his attention, and cocked one eyebrow questioningly. Tavo nodded his agreement slowly. It looked to be a wooden gesture, but then everything about him was stilted and awkward at present. Drisker knew he would need Tarsha’s time and patience to help change that, but for now it was enough.

  “So we are a company for now?” Dar Leah asked him—more a statement of fact than a question. “But where do we go next?”

  Drisker glanced over his shoulder toward the dark bulk of Paranor. “We cannot remain here. Nothing will be settled by hiding behind these walls. The Keep is restored, and I am returned; that is all that matters where Paranor is concerned. But we have to decide which of several more difficult problems we will resolve first. Tarsha is committed to helping her brother, but she will also be accompanying us.” He looked over at her. “And make no mistake, you have a part to play, Tarsha. An important part.”

  Tarsha looked startled. “But I am only a…”

  Drisker held up one hand to cut her off. “Leave it for now. I will speak alone with you later. For now, simply accept that I know whereof I speak.”

  The girl went quiet, her eyes shifting to her brother. Tavo was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and confusion, and she gave him a small smile. His response was a subtle shift of expression that caused her to drop the smile quickly.

  “But we have to do something about Clizia,” Drisker continued. “We have to find her before she can cause any more trouble. We also have to do something about the Skaar. We can’t let them continue to threaten the Four Lands.”

  “Well, I can see us doing something about Clizia,” Brecon Elessedil said. “After all, we should be able to track her anywhere with the Elfstones. She might have evaded their searching capabilities once, but she can’t hide from us forever. And now there are four of us to deal with whatever defenses she might have.”

  “Numbers aren’t the best measure of success where Clizia is concerned,” Drisker said. “In any case, I don’t think going after Clizia is our best choice.”

  The others stared at him. “Well, then, what is?” Dar asked.

  A shrug. “I’m not sure yet. But I think we might need some help finding out.”

  “And where will we find this help, Drisker?” Tarsha spoke for the first time since the fire had been lit. She was rosy-cheeked by now, likely warm clear through. “You have an idea, don’t you?”

  Drisker nodded. “But it will require that we travel. All of us. We cannot risk splitting up our company while Clizia is out there. For now, we will have to stick together. At least until my question about our future is answered.”

  “But who will provide the answer?” Dar persisted.

  Drisker’s smile was dark and full of menace. “The dead will.”

  * * *

  —

  On the north bank of the Mermidon, well above the Skaar defenses and main camp, Clizia Porse decided to take a chance. If she abandoned her two-man where she was, it would take her hours to reach the heart of the encampment and the princess. Hours, as well, to find out what exactly was going on. But if she flew in from the west and north at low altitude, she could conceivably get much closer without anyone spotting her. Or even paying attention to her if they did, since hers was such a small craft and of obviously no threat to anyone by itself.

  She took a final look downriver and confirmed that there was still no movement by the warships massed to either side of the Mermidon.

  Satisfied, she powered up her small airship and flew inland to allow for an approach from behind the Skaar lines. She stayed low against the foothills and in the shadow of the Dragon’s Teeth, just as she had on her earlier approach. If she were judging the situation correctly, the Skaar had formed a defensive line inland from the river, on heights that backed up against the mountains but jutted out enough that the princess could maneuver her soldiers easily from behind their defenses. Clizia could spy out some of those troops and see movement from behind their barriers. But it was the main camp that drew her attention, for it was there the activity was heaviest.

  She changed her approach so that she came down farther back than where she had previously intended, closer to the rear lines of the Skaar and close to where the Skaar warships were moored. The shadows cast by those of the giant vessels that were aloft blackened the earth and draped her in darkness as she passed beneath. She found a clearing within a copse of fir into which her vessel fit perfectly, and the surrounding ring of trees would provide the perfect cover for all but a thorough inspection. She scanned all about as she climbed out, but saw nothing of a Skaar watch.

  Of course, the Skaar could make themselves invisible, so she could be mistaken. But she would find that out soon enough.

  She moved toward the encampment, summoning her magic as she did so in case she needed a defense. But no one approached her as she slipped through the trees, skirting the open summit of the hills to draw ever closer to her destination. Already, she could hear a murmur of voices mixed with a few cheers. Ahead, the trees closed up again, providing her with fresh cover. Good enough.

  She had reached their perimeter when a Skaar soldier stepped into view, materializing right next to her.

  “Stay where you are.”

  She had learned their language while communicating with Kassen, and therefore understood the order. She waited patiently until a second member of the watch appeared to her other side. As they flanked
her, she took on the posture and look of a confused old woman.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she begged.

  “Who are you?” the second one asked. “What are you doing here?”

  She shook her head, looking down at her feet. “I meant no harm. I was just gathering berries for my family. They have so little to eat. We live right over there.”

  She pointed, and when they turned to look she used a confusion spell she had gathered at her fingertips to cause them to doubt what they had seen. When they looked back, she was gone and both were already wondering if she had ever been there. There was no point in taking chances on how they might respond to a simple request to be escorted in. Better to safeguard against the possibility that she might now be viewed as an enemy. Better to remain invisible.

  Then she was into the trees, ducking from sight and dropping to one knee to see what retaliation might be coming. But no one appeared and no attack was launched against her. She waited patiently for a few moments longer, wanting to be sure, then rose and continued on. No one else had seen her. It was a two-man watch, sufficient for a rear guard when the enemy was clearly in front of them. She wondered what had brought the Federation army to confront the Skaar, and quickly decided it must have been because of what had happened at Paranor. If Ketter Vause believed the Skaar enough of a threat, he would want to put an end to them as quickly as he could. He might have decided to do so here. Or he might have learned of the larger force entering the Four Lands and come to stop them before they got any farther.

  Whatever the case, a battle seemed imminent, and she wanted to be well clear before any fighting began.

  She reached a rise and a break in the trees that gave her an overview of the main sections of the encampment, where soldiers were scurrying about and supplies and weapons were being brought up from the transports. She took note of the fact that the numbers of men and women were far superior to what Ajin d’Amphere had brought with her as an advance force. Enough so that there was very little doubt about what had happened.

  Cor d’Amphere, her father, had come early to provide her with a larger force, and would now be in command.

  Which meant that Clizia needed to change her plans.

  SEVEN

  SHEA OHMSFORD HAD BEEN convinced the worst had passed now that he was free from the crushing grip of Assidian Deep with the aged scientist Tindall safely in hand, and back on familiar ground inside the massive warehouse where Rocan had hidden Annabelle, but that was merely wishful thinking. As Zakonis and his Federation soldiers broke through the door and entered the room, it was clear that his future was looking as bleak as ever.

  Shea backed away instinctively, already searching for an exit. But he had given no real thought to escape routes or flight, and he had no idea if there even was a way out other than the way he had come in. There were places to hide—supplies and equipment were piled everywhere—but there was no time to reach them. Already, the Federation soldiers were spreading out around the room, surrounding Shea and Tindall—hemming them in, backing them up, so that they were pressed up against the base of Annabelle with nowhere to run.

  Zakonis seemed pleased. “Got you back again, Tindall,” he said, grinning. Shea grimaced as he noted the deep claw marks on the commander’s face—a painful reminder of his encounter with Seelah. “And a bit of street trash as a bonus. Now all we need is your partner in crime. Where is Rocan anyway?”

  Tindall gave him a scowl but said nothing.

  “He’s gone to Varfleet,” Shea said impulsively.

  “And left you here to fend for yourselves?” Zakonis shook his head. “Not true, boy. We’re going to be quite close over the days ahead, and starting off with a lie is a big mistake. Back to Assidian Deep for the two of you, with special lodgings and tender, loving care. You thought you got away from me, but you overlooked something.”

  He walked over to Tindall, seized him by his ear, and brought him to his knees. Tears of pain ran down the old man’s weathered cheeks as the Federation commander used a knife to carve a shallow X into the back of his neck. Shea watched in horror, wanting to help but knowing he could do nothing.

  “There you are,” Zakonis crowed, rubbing blood around the cut with his thumb. “Know what’s in there, old man?” He bent down close, holding Tindall’s eyes with his own. “You should. You invented it. A tracker. We inserted it when we brought you into Assidian Deep at the beginning of your stay. Did it while you slept. You never knew. Thought maybe, somehow, you might wander off in spite of our hospitality. But this little beauty sends a signal that we can follow right to wherever you might choose to run.”

  He shoved Tindall all the way to the floor and stepped away. “A good idea, as it turns out.”

  He glanced over at Shea. “Seems like you’re more involved in all this than Rocan claimed, boy. Quite a lot more. You’re going to tell me all about it once we get back to the Deep. You and this old fool are going to tell me everything I want to know.”

  Shea shuddered. He knew what would happen to him, especially after what he had done to free Tindall. The old man was safe enough—the Federation needed his expertise and skills to help supply the Federation army. But Shea was just a street boy, of no use to anyone—an irritation that could be discarded with the rest of Assidian Deep’s refuse once he had revealed what he knew.

  He could not pretend he was anything less than terrified. There was no scenario in which he was going to escape a second time. He had to fight down the urge to bolt—even knowing it would be futile—because what was there left for him otherwise? But he held his ground, fought back against the overwhelming urge to give in to his fear, and simply stood there, saying nothing.

  Off to one side, Tindall climbed back to his feet. “I won’t help you,” he announced in a ragged voice.

  Zakonis glanced over. “Won’t you? I wouldn’t bet on that. I think, within a few days, you’ll beg me to let you help. Now sit back down on that bench. You, boy,” he added, gesturing to Shea. “You get over there and sit with him. And no moving around, either of you. We’ll all just wait for your friend to return.”

  He walked over to the open door and carefully closed it once more. “There we are, everything as it was.”

  The boy and the old man sat together in silence, staring off into space. Shea wondered if there was any chance Rocan would realize what had happened before he walked into the trap. He wondered if somehow the Rover would find a way to free them, despite the odds. Rocan was smart and clever, and he seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when things were amiss. But it was asking a lot to expect him to intuit that his safehold for Annabelle had been compromised and his implacable Federation nemesis was awaiting his return.

  He wondered if there was a way he could warn the Rover. The Federation soldiers were scattered about the room, all facing the entry, while Zakonis stood off to one side, studying Annabelle, hands on his hips. The soldiers all carried flash rips, their commander a sidearm. Too many weapons for Rocan to evade them all. Too many enemies for him to overcome. He had to be alerted before he walked through the doorway.

  “What is this thing?” Zakonis asked suddenly, gesturing at Annabelle. “What does it do?”

  Tindall glanced over, then shrugged. “It cools or heats the room as needed, depending on the weather. Just makes it more comfortable in here.”

  Zakonis frowned. “Rather large for something like that, isn’t it?”

  The old man grunted. “It’s a large room.”

  The commander stared at him balefully for a moment, then he looked away and was silent again.

  Shea went back to thinking of ways he might warn Rocan, but nothing reasonable came to mind save leaping up and shouting as the door began to open, and that would be the final nail in his coffin. No, he needed to give a silent warning to the Rover before he entered the room, and Shea had no idea how he could manage that.

 
Beside him, Tindall edged a bit closer. “Sorry about this, boy,” he said softly.

  Shea grimaced. “Will you please stop calling me ‘boy’?”

  “I should have realized they tagged me in the prison,” he continued, as if he had not heard Shea speak. “I never even thought about the possibility. I was too busy being angry.”

  Shea sighed. “I probably wouldn’t have thought about it, either, if it were me.”

  “Hey! Old man! You and the boy quiet down. No talking!” Zakonis was glaring at them. “If you’re thinking about warning your friend, I promise you’ll feel the kiss of a flash rip the moment you try it.”

  Shea and Tindall were quiet for a time, glancing at each other and then at Zakonis. But the Federation commander was paying no attention to them. Instead, he was staring at Annabelle, studying her with a focused intensity as if determination alone could unlock her secrets. Shea, still looking for a way to escape, wondered if he could lure Zakonis close enough that he could jump him and seize his weapon. Sure, he chided himself. That would work. Then you would only have a dozen of his fellows to deal with.

  A few minutes passed, then Tindall made a small movement to catch Shea’s attention. When he glanced over questioningly, the old man cocked his head toward the back of the room.

  Shea looked where he was indicating and saw nothing.

  The old man saw his confusion and mouthed a single word.

  Seelah.

  This time when he looked, Shea caught a flash of movement within the stacks of supplies and materials. He had forgotten all about Seelah. He had assumed she was off with Rocan or just off alone somewhere, the way she so often was. But the movement was unmistakable. She was back there.

 

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