Invisible Assassin (30 page)

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Authors: T C Southwell

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Epic

BOOK: Invisible Assassin
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The judge nodded. "Alone?"

"No." Armin's expression brightened. "I was speaking to a Jashimari advisor who came to meet me. A man named Mendal."

"Mendal!" Blade gave a bark of laughter. "No greater liar lives! He is a true snake, siding with whoever serves his cause or pays his way. He will testify to anything you wish, naturally. Undoubtedly he knows your plans, and will provide you with an alibi. One look at his shifty eyes will tell the judges that he is not a man to be trusted."

"Is he here?" the judge asked Armin.

"No, he is too old to ride with an army."

The judge sighed. "Have you another witness who is here?"

Armin shook his head.

"Take me to Jadaya," Blade recommended, "and I will call upon my witness."

"And who would that be?" the judge enquired.

"Your king. Kerrion walked up as Armin was leaving the wagon where I was imprisoned, and he stopped to ask what Armin was doing there. I recall the Prince saying that he had come to gloat over me."

"That is a lie!" Armin burst out. "I did not even know that the assassin was Kerrion's prisoner at the time. I only found out later, through letters from friends in Jadaya, that my brothers had been murdered by a Jashimari assassin. It was the Jashimari advisor, Mendal, who told me that it could only be the work of one man, an assassin named Blade, this assassin. And he told me where to find him, here on his estate."

"My, hasn't Mendal been busy?" Blade sneered. "You expect the judges to believe the testimony of a man who betrays his own people?"

The judge shook his head, trying to rid himself of the glazed look that had come over him with so many accusations and counter accusations flying about. He looked at Jayon.

"Who is this man?"

"I am Commander Jayon. I am his -"

"Bodyguard," Blade finished for him.

"And what have you to say on this matter?"

Jayon shrugged. "I witnessed nothing, nor did My Lord Conash tell me anything about his employer. He would not break his code of silence without good reason. All I can say is that he is a man of honour who would not lie."

"Unless he was paid to," the judge drawled, losing interest in the fresh-faced youngster, discounting him as naive. He glanced at the Prince. "We have an impasse, My Prince. Each of you accuses the other of lying, and we have no witnesses to corroborate either of your stories. You came here to arrest this man and make him admit to working for the King. Instead he has accused you of hiring him to kill your brothers and falsely accuse the King, acts of high treason."

"You would believe a Jashimari assassin over your own prince?"

"We must try to be objective, Highness. His story is sound, and he calls upon the King himself as a witness."

"Of course he does, Kerrion is his employer!"

"So you say. I believe that torture is the only way to ascertain the truth. Yet he knows that crying Kerrion's name will end his suffering, so it cannot be trusted. But if he dies with your name upon his lips, Highness, you will be arrested for high treason."

Armin paled, shooting Blade a furious look. "Then let us torture him. I do not believe he can maintain his lie until the end. He is a beardless gelding, a half man who dresses up as a woman to kill his victims. I am not his employer, so who else could it be but Kerrion? He has more reason to want his brothers dead, and laying the blame at my door is probably his idea too. If I am convicted of treason, he removes the last threat to his foul liaison with the Jashimari slut."

The judge shrugged. "True, but if the assassin maintains his accusation under extreme duress, it must be believed, otherwise there is no point in torturing him."

Armin turned to Jayon with a nasty smile. "Perhaps we should torture his bodyguard first. The sight of what awaits him may make him tell the truth."

Jayon drew a shocked breath, glancing at Blade, who gazed at the Prince, his expression deadpan. "Go ahead, it merely delays my suffering. Perhaps until the Jashimari troops that Regent Chiana has dispatched arrive. She is, after all, my wife, and a dutiful one too. I can assure you, however, that the sight of another's suffering has no effect on me. I have seen and done enough of it to know that."

"Even of a man you know, a friend?" Armin asked.

"Assassins have no friends."

The judge frowned. "You say the Regent knows of our presence here?"

"Yes, she has dispatched troops to our aid. We expect them at any time," Blade lied. "And if they find you torturing her husband, I daresay that she will take a dim view of it. Do not forget, I am no longer merely an assassin, a trade from which I have now retired, by the way. I am also the Lord Protector of Jashimari, a sacred Knight of the Veil, and husband of the Regent, the highest office in the land apart from the infant Queen herself. Your king will not thank you for stirring up trouble in his daughter's kingdom."

Armin snorted. "Kerrion himself issued the order for your execution."

"My employer, you would have us believe," Blade scoffed. "Yes, he did, in Cotti. In case it has escaped your notice, we are in Jashimari. Tell me, did he order you to hunt me down?"

"No. Having assured your escape from Jadaya, I am sure he does not wish you caught, lest the truth be wrung from you."

The judge waved his hands. "This argument serves no purpose. My Prince, if you mean to arrest and torture this man, then we should do it before we drive each other insane with this endless haggling."

"You are right." Armin sheathed his sword and walked back to the doorway, the judges and advisors retreating before him. Within the portal, he turned to his soldiers.

"I want the assassin alive. The other one you can kill."

Blade glanced at Jayon, whose colour had drained at these words. The young commander gripped his sword in a white-knuckled hand. "I will see you in the Everlasting, Blade."

"Take as many of the bastards with you as you can."

"I will."

The dozen Cotti soldiers split into two groups as they approached Jayon and Blade. Eight of them moved towards the assassin, empty-handed, the other four closed with Jayon, their swords drawn. As they fanned out around the lone swordsman, Blade jerked two daggers from his belt and flung them at Jayon's attackers, each weapon finding its target with unnerving accuracy. The men fell, each impaled through the throat by a hand-span of cold steel. Jayon glanced at the assassin in surprise, a smile tugging at his lips as he faced the two who remained.

The Cotti hesitated, then another two drew their swords and moved towards Jayon. The commander, seeing his foes about to double in number, growled and charged the nearest, swinging his weapon. Blade, startled by Jayon's foolhardiness, flicked two more daggers at the commander's opponents, reducing the odds by two once more. Jayon engaged the other pair, and the assassin bent to jerk the daggers from his boots as the six unarmed soldiers charged him.

The first to reach him died of a slashed throat, spraying blood over the assassin. The next tried to tackle him around the legs, but Blade leapt aside and lashed out with a blade-tipped boot that opened the man's face from nose to ear. His screams added music to the tapping of Blade's steel-shod feet as he leapt and spun. Two Cotti charged together with shouts of rage. One died as Blade's dagger found his throat, the other fell with a slashed chest.

The last two split up, one circling behind the assassin while the other remained in front. Blade grinned savagely and lunged at the man before him, feinting with a dagger, then impaled him on a bladed boot as he dived aside. He spun to meet the charge of the man behind him, slashed the soldier's throat and leapt aside. The man blundered past and collapsed. The assassin bent to finish off the wounded man, silencing his screams, then entered the fray with Jayon. The commander killed one man, and Blade stabbed the other from behind.

The pair stood panting amid the sprawled forms of twelve dead Cotti, and Blade retrieved his daggers as Armin turned to shout for more men. Jayon picked up a sword and flung it to the assassin, who caught it on reflex, then shook his head and dropped it with a clatter.

"I don't know how to use a sword."

"You should have learnt."

"Too late now." Blade faced the door as soldiers boiled through it.

Armin took no chances now, and a veritable tide of men flooded into the room. Scores headed for Jayon and an equal number attacked Blade. They charged in a mass, yelling a blood-chilling battle cry meant to freeze their foes with fear. Blade retreated as he flung the four daggers from his belt, then drew the two from his boots and flicked them at the advancing Cotti. Six men fell, and he released the last daggers from the wrist sheaths and let them slide into his hands, turning to run. Jayon vanished behind a wall of soldiers, the clash of steel ringing from the melee. The Cotti raced after Blade, spreading out as bolder men outstripped their less courageous comrades.

Blade put some distance between himself and his pursuers before he turned to face them. He lashed out with razor-tipped feet and hands in a desperate bid to cut down as many as he could before they overwhelmed him. Many fell with grunts or recoiled with yells, wounded by his slashing feet and daggers. He spun away once more, cutting the hands that strived to grab him. A soldier caught Blade's arm, and he almost fell when his feet slipped, but kept his balance and stabbed his assailant through the throat.

The Cotti slowed their advance, the room so full of them now that there was nowhere left to run. Blade glanced around, as unwilling to be caught and trussed as a wild wood cat to which he claimed kindred. The soldiers advanced warily, none brave enough to tackle him alone, each waiting for another to take the initiative. Blade raised his head and looked at the smiling Prince who stood by the door.

"You are the one, Armin! I name you as my client! You are a traitor, you Cotti bastard!"

With a powerful overhand throw, he flung a dagger at the Prince. The distance was more than any man could throw a dagger accurately, yet the weapon bounced off Armin's breastplate with a clang, making him curse and recoil.

Blade spun, his heart hammering with desperation and resolve, his metal-shod feet scraping for purchase on the floor, making him almost lose his footing. Regaining his balance, he raced towards the wall at the back of the hall, where several windows let in beams of slanted light. Reaching it at a dead run, he hurled himself through the nearest.

The glass shattered in a spray of glittering shards, slicing his skin in an explosion of pain. Blade cried out as the cold air hit him in a frigid wall, throwing out his arms. He seemed to hang in the sky, then he fell. A glance down assured him that the drop was too far to survive, a full three storeys above the ground. He plummeted through the cold air, his legs instinctively bent to absorb the coming impact.

The ground rose in a blur and hit him like a giant bludgeon. One leg snapped like a rotten twig as it crumpled under him. He hit the earth so hard that he bounced, but by then he was senseless, and knew no pain.

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

Jayon turned at the crash of shattering glass, still on his feet, mostly due to the fact that the Cotti were toying with him, but badly wounded. As good a swordsman as he was, he stood no chance against so many. Blade's cry reached him as he swung around, and he caught a fleeting glimpse of the assassin as he leapt to his death.

"Blade!" Jayon shouted, despair clutching his heart. He gasped as something struck him from behind, and looked down at the length of steel protruding from his chest. His face twisted with sorrow, and he coughed blood as his legs buckled. He fell to his knees, his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled.

 

By the door, Armin looked up from his perusal of the scratch on his armour at the crash of shattering glass. His mouth fell open as he witnessed Blade's leap, stunned by the assassin's suicide. The soldiers froze, and Armin glanced at the second Jashimari man when he shouted. A soldier ran him through, and he collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. The Prince started to turn away, then his eyes widened as a shimmer appeared in the air above the slain bodyguard.

A faint pop heralded a flash of colour and a buzz of wings. A tiny, sparkling creature appeared, hovering above Jayon. The advisors behind Armin drew in harsh breaths as the radiant dragon flew down to land on the bodyguard’s chest. Waves of glorious colour ran over the animal's skin, and its delicate wings became transparent as they ceased to beat. It lowered a narrow head and gazed at its friend with liquid eyes, its tiny white claws gripping the dead man's tunic. Armin stared at the magical beast in stunned horror. Wirryne were legendary, so rarely seen that they were more myth than fact.

The radiant dragon lay down on Jayon's chest and stretched out its head to lick his chin with a blue tongue. It keened in soft, musical notes, its scintillating form luminous. Gold and silver glowed on its muzzle and tail; fiery red edged its delicate wings and legs. Its sorrowful dirge rose and fell in a series of sweet, fluting notes that hung in the air in multiplying echoes, each one sweeter than the last. The song was sadness, and its magic filled the dusty room and its occupants with desolation so intense that battle-hardened warriors blinked tears from their eyes.

Jayon's skin glowed with soft golden light as the radiant's song rose to a melodic climax of intense purity, gilding its former friend with its last, magical gift. Grace. The lament lasted only for the two minutes that it took the tiny dragon to die. Some said that wild wirryne lived for only a few days, others maintained that they were immortal. Judging by how swiftly this one perished, Armin decided that the former was the truth.

The radiant's eyes closed, and its head sagged onto Jayon's chest. It shivered, and its wings spread as it went limp. A stunned silence followed, then the soldiers muttered and moved away from the corpse, shaking their heads. The wirryne's death atop its friend ensured that no one would touch the corpse, for as the radiance of its colours faded to grey, it became lethal to touch. Armin gazed at the beast as the glowing embers of its brilliant hues went out and its skin flaked away. Within a time-glass the creature would be dust.

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