The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) (29 page)

*****

Lepkin sat in his room for days. Mercer would personally deliver meals, so as to keep up the ruse that Lepkin was not to be disturbed, and to give him updates personally. The dragon slayers were having little luck finding any persons of interest. The rumors had spread beyond the officers to the general soldiers, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Mercer kept assuring Lepkin that something would come to fruition soon, but Lepkin wasn’t sure that Mercer even believed his own words.

Each day spent in the room alone was another he could not see Dimwater. That was the worst of it. In order to keep up the charade, not even Mercer went to where Marlin and Dimwater had been hidden. There was no news about her condition. So Lepkin alternated between praying and throwing furniture around out of frustration. Part of him knew that losing control would do nothing to help the situation, but he justified it to himself thinking that it would at least lend credibility to his act as a man torn by grief.

To add to that, Mercer made a point of collecting wine bottles and leaving them in and around Lepkin’s room. Even when he brought Lepkin’s water, he would half fill a wine bottle to give the appearance to any onlooker that Lepkin had entirely succumbed to his grief.

Still nothing happened.

A week passed, and then two. No progress from the dragon slayers. Even Lady Arkyn had ventured out on occasion to help but with no luck. It was as if the traitor knew he was being set up.

On the last day of the month, Lepkin paced around the room. He drank from the bottle in his hand and wished he had wine instead of the flat, bitter water. His temper got the better of him and he threw the bottle into the wall. The glass shattered and the liquid spread out over the stone. Lepkin then grabbed the chair nearest him and slammed it into the top of the table. The chair shattered, spewing wood chips every direction. Lepkin dropped the pieces he held and then came down in a raging hammer-fist that broke the table in two equal halves. Then he flung one of the halves toward the window. The piece was too wide to go through the window, so it shattered the glass on impact, but then immediately fell to the floor.

Lepkin let out a feral yell, allowing all of his frustration out in a single burst of energy.

He only barely noticed the door opening.

Lepkin looked up to see a soldier dressed in his leather hauberk and carrying a sword in his left hand. Lepkin cocked his eyebrow and saw that his own sword was near the door, propped against an armoire.

“I am Rangkor. Mercer sent me to look after you,” Rangkor said.

“With your sword drawn?” Lepkin asked.

“You sounded as though you may be hurt, I thought perhaps you were under attack,” Rangkor said.

Lepkin was about to say something, but as he watched Rangkor, he noticed that Rangkor’s eyes moved. It was almost an imperceptible movement, but Lepkin noticed it. The orbs flickered to the right, just over Lepkin’s shoulder and to the window. Lepkin acted on instinct, he quickly jumped to the side, grabbed the remaining half of the table and held it up in front of him as he turned to face the window.

In swung two men, barely concealed by leather loin cloths, and covered in black tattoos. The first had already drawn a bow back and let the arrow fly. Lepkin caught the shaft with the table, and the second Blacktongue moved in, wielding a pair of hatchets.

“Fools,” Lepkin growled. He rushed forward and using the table half to shield himself, bowled the Blacktongue over. The two fell to the ground and Lepkin scored a left hook to the assassin’s right temple. Then he somersaulted forward, ripping a table leg from the top and coming up with a savage swing. The makeshift club snapped the second Blacktongue’s bow in the middle. The string had been drawn again, so the upper limb sprang back and blasted the Blacktongue in the face. A moment later Lepkin followed through with his swing and knocked the Blacktongue out through the window. The man screamed all the way down until a sudden
thump
created silence.

Rangkor was already mid-charge, half way across the room. Lepkin flipped the table leg to his right hand and swung into a heavy throw. Rangkor somersaulted under the throw and came up in a direct lunge, driving with his feet into the ground as he aimed the tip of his sword for Lepkin’s chest. Lepkin spun to the right, his left hand catching Rangkor’s wrist and his right hand seizing the man by the back of the neck. He used his opponent’s momentum to spin him around and slam his head into the stone wall. At the last moment he angled Rangkor’s face up to concentrate the blow onto the man’s nose.
Schnap!
Blood splatted out across the wall in much the same way the wine bottle had smeared water over it only a few moments before. Rangkor went limp. Lepkin wrested the sword from his hand and slammed him onto his back on the stone floor.

The first Blacktongue had pushed out from under the table half and regained his footing. Lepkin smiled at him.

“You didn’t really think it would be this easy did you?” Lepkin asked.

The Blacktongue growled and looked to Rangkor on the floor.

Lepkin never took his eyes off the would-be assassin. “Did he give you bad information?” he asked. “Did he tell you I was wallowing in despair and drunken?”

The Blacktongue didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The way he narrowed his eyes on Lepkin and glanced nervously to Rangkor was all the confirmation Lepkin needed. Lepkin raised his sword and moved in.

The Blacktongue parried with his left hatchet and then took a swing with his right hatchet. Lepkin kicked the man in the groin, and then came up again with a kick to his stomach. He leapt back and forced the Blacktongue to pursue him, then he whirled in low and stabbed his sword through the Blacktongue’s right forearm. He then moved up and swept the Blacktongue’s feet out from under him with a left kick. The assassin wailed in pain and let go of both hatchets.

Lepkin bent down, placing one hand on the Blacktongue’s neck and squeezing firmly. “You go back and tell them that we are ready for you. We are always one step ahead of you.”

The Blacktongue sneered. “The dwarves are dead,” he said.

Lepkin smiled back wryly. He pressed on his sword and made the Blacktongue squirm in pain. “You tell them that I am coming for them,” Lepkin said. “You run to your commander, and you tell him that Lepkin will fly as a dragon. When the orcs are dealt with, then I am coming for you.” Lepkin yanked the man up and pushed his back against the wall next to the shattered window. “Your only chance is to run.”

Lepkin released him then and wrenched his sword free.

The Blacktongue looked at him curiously for a moment, but when Lepkin brought the sword up to the man’s neck, the assassin turned and leapt out the window, catching the rope he had climbed down on.”

“You’re a fool,” sputtered Rangkor. “Why would you let him go?”

Lepkin reached down and grabbed Rangkor. “I have some questions for you, rat.” Rangkor’s eyes widened. Lepkin bound the traitor’s arms and then dragged him out into the hall, headed for Mercer.

*****

A loud crash sounded as something slammed into the window of Lepkin’s room from the inside. Glass flew out from the room, twinkling in the moonlight as it rained down toward the courtyard below. A moment later other movement caught the she-elf’s attention. A pair of figures slipped over the top of the roof. Lady Arkyn watched from her hiding spot as the Blacktongues slowly descended toward Lepkin’s window. She readied her bow, a fine piece of weaponry taken as a prize from the battlefield, and aimed up. Still, she knew that Lepkin was not one to let his guard down. She trusted that he would be ready for them.

Not long after the two assassins swung in through the open window, one of them was sent flying out to the courtyard. Lady Arkyn followed the Blacktongue’s descent, averting her eyes only momentarily during impact. She didn’t need to, but in the interest of being thorough she looked back and studied the body. If somehow the Blacktongue had survived, she could have easily put an arrow or two into his chest, but it was more than obvious that he had not survived.

Less than a minute later, the second Blacktongue was out and scaling up the rope. For half an instant she worried that Lepkin had been slain, but standing from her perch she saw in through the window to discover that he was alive and well. She nodded, as if he could see her too, though she knew he couldn’t. She understood what she was to do. She set the arrow back into her quiver and slung the bow over her shoulder before turning to climb and follow the surviving Blacktongue.

The man was fast, but she was able to keep pace with him. Having had almost a month to recuperate from her previous injuries, and with a bit of Marlin’s help, she had made a full recovery. She ran silently, her feet gracefully touching the ground and propelling her forward without so much as disturbing the dust upon the stone or making any sound whatsoever.

When the Blacktongue dropped over the wall, she followed suit, though it surprised her that the assassin had gone to the north side, and not to the south where the orcs were camped. She followed him up into the forest for several miles, never slower than a sprinting pace. They crossed over a brook, then around a set of small hills and into a clearing before turning toward the west. Arkyn made sure to mirror the assassin’s movements and directions, but she kept to the forest so as not to allow herself to be discovered. She had no way of knowing whether there would be more Blacktongues in the area, and she was not about to blindly walk into a trap.

They ran for another hour before the Blacktongue finally slowed his pace and turned into a thicket of elm trees. Lady Arkyn crept in slowly, pulling her bow free in case she would need it. She could see that the assassin was sitting near another pair of Blacktongues, and a third was standing watch over the area. She thought to climb a nearby oak tree, but was afraid that she might be seen as she was now within forty yards of the group, so she kept behind a thick blackberry bush instead, hunkering low to the ground and pressing into the back of the bush so as to be covered from the sides if there were any other Blacktongues along the perimeter of the camp.

“Well?” asked a large man sitting upon a mossy log.

“Our information was incorrect,” said the Blacktongue that Lady Arkyn had followed. “Lepkin was ready for us.”

“What of Rangkor?”

“Lepkin caught him.”

“Then it is time we cut our losses and move on,” said the first. He stood and gestured to the others. “Gather your things. Let’s go after the boy.”

None of the others said anything. They all moved about quickly gathering a couple of small bags and shoving things into them.

“I have a contract with Gilifan to slay Erik. Now that we are certain Lepkin is not hiding the boy, we need to find his trail.”

“Where will we start?” asked one of the others. “Rangkor was never able to find out where he went.”

The first shook his head. “We will have to trace the trail farther back than that. We will go up to the next city. If he is not in Ten Forts, then perhaps someone saw him traveling through.”

“That isn’t much to go on,” complained the Blacktongue that Arkyn had followed.

“We have done with less,” the first said. “Besides, if you had succeeded in taking Lepkin, perhaps we would have better knowledge.”

“Let’s go back to Ten Forts, surely they wouldn’t expect a second attack tonight,” suggested another Blacktongue.

The first shook his head. “No,” he said definitively. “Our assignment is Erik. Ten Forts is alerted now, and they will root out the others working with Rangkor. Soon they will know where we are as well. It is time for us to leave.”

Lady Arkyn heard all she needed to. She set an arrow to the string and pulled back. She loosed it and without watching where the missile went she continued to set another arrow and fire again and again, launching four arrows in less than two seconds.

The leader of the group took an arrow directly in the center of the chest, flying back to slam into a tree and then fall to the ground. Each of the other Blacktongues fell a moment later. Lady Arkyn leapt up to her feet and fired arrows as she ran in closer. She knew that Blacktongues were treacherous, and any left alive, with any capacity whatsoever, would try to strike back at all costs. Before she reached the camp, three of the Blacktongues had five arrows through each of them. Their bodies lay still and cold in the dirt.

“I have heard of you,” the first Blacktongue wheezed. He looked up, revealing blue eyes behind a painted mask of black. “You are Lady Arkyn,” he said.

Lady Arkyn stood five yards away from the man, carefully watching his empty hands as he straightened himself up against the tree to look at her. “Name the others working with you,” she demanded.

The Blacktongue smiled. “I will give you one name,” he said through labored breaths. “Nerekar.”

“There is no Nerekar in Ten Forts,” Arkyn said.

The dying assassin sniggered and winced in pain as his chest heaved against the strong shaft protruding from next to his sternum. “
I
am Nerekar,” he said. “I give you my name as a badge of honor. I have taken more lives with my blade than any other Blacktongue in the Middle Kingdom.”

“I am not interested in your name,” Arkyn said. “Give me the name of the other traitors.”