Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (17 page)

She shifted so her knees were touching Crash, then asked quietly, "What's the signal?"

"I doubt you'll need one," he said. His eyes didn't leave the scene before them. "When everyone leaves the cage, then go to her. You might have to take out a few guards, but I don't think that'll be a problem.”

He cast her a glance and Sora felt strangely happy. Perhaps he recognized her skill after all. "Remember," he continued, "in and out. Nothing fancy, and don't stick around waiting for us. As soon as you get her, take the horses and leave. You remember our rendezvous point?"

"Yeah...." she gripped her staff in sweaty hands. They had decided on a copse of trees several miles away, in the opposite direction that the bandits would expect them to travel. "You'll be okay?"

Amusement flashed across his eyes and he arched an elegant black brow. The rest of his face was hidden behind a black veil, the mark of his trade. She hadn't seen him wear it since he had kidnapped her from her manor, almost a year ago. "You have to ask?"

Now it was her turn to snort. "Of course, I forgot. You're invincible. And immortal, I might add. Did I mention infallible?" She grinned in turn. "It's not like I've ever saved you from drowning...."

"Did you?" he said dryly. "I seem to remember that. You should get going. Burn will be in position by now."

Sora looked around and saw that, indeed, Burn had disappeared.
Darn, I forgot to wish him luck.
She stood, still hunched below the rim of grass, and turned to go. "Watch out for that guy with the scar,” she said over her shoulder, a last-minute thought. “He knows what he's doing.”

“Hmm,” Crash murmured.

Sora started along the top of the ridge.
Blend!
she thought to herself, trying to stay low and inconspicuous. If she stood up too straight, her presence would be as obvious as a lighthouse.

"Be careful," the assassin's voice trailed after her.

She turned back, unsure if she had heard correctly—
am I imagining things?
It seemed almost sentimental coming from someone like him.

But he was gone, nothing but weeds and rocks in his place.

"I will," she muttered, if only to the wind. Then she scuttled on her way, crawling around the outskirts of the large encampment, making sure to avoid the firelight. The sun was setting; it was perhaps a half-hour before full darkness. Shadows were everywhere, the landscape smeared with gray, so she blended in perfectly. She reached the side of the camp closest to Laina's cage and hunched low in the bushes, only a few dozen yards away. At this distance, she could clearly see her friend's tiny form, the men who paced around her prison, old knives shoved into belts, and the firelight that glinted off the eyes of the crowd.

It seemed like no more than a minute later, there was a shout from across the camp. Heads turned. Murmurs of confusion. She squinted, trying to see what was happening on the opposite end of the river basin.

Then a shuddering, echoing roar split the air; it could have been a bear or a lion, though Sora knew it was Burn's battle cry. There was a chorus of terrified whinnies followed by more and more shouts, the thunder of horses' hooves and a cloud of thick dust. She grinned, licking her lips in anticipation. The horses had broken loose from the corral—or had been set loose by her companions—and were stampeding through the camp, panicked eyes rolling, smashing into boxes and tearing through tents.

Chaos exploded. Screams shattered the lazy twilight. She could already see fires spreading, taking easily to the dry grass and wood, trailed by the maddened horses. The Ravens scattered, screeching to one another, leaving Laina's cage and running to put out the fires. There were perhaps fifty horses in all and the mess was catastrophic.

Only one guard remained at the cage. He fidgeted uncertainly, watching the camp disintegrate into panic, turning a blade nervously in his hands. Sora waited impatiently, hoping he would leave, but she couldn't waste too much time. She had to move while the chaos was at its peak. Finally, she decided it was time to act. Lifting her staff in one hand, she slunk down the hill, dashing swiftly from bush to scrubby bush.

She snuck up behind the man, quiet as a ghost, and delivered a firm
whack!
to the back of his head. He dropped like a stone.

She paused, braced for a fight, then stared at the body in disgust.
Pitiful!
she thought. Hadn't they expected some sort of attack? One would think so, but perhaps they weren't that organized.

She turned to look at Laina and found the girl sitting up, staring at the stampeding horses and spreading fires. Her eyes were wide. "You guys don't mess around,” she said, amazed. Then she blinked. “For a while I thought you weren't coming.”

"We had to convince Crash that you were worth saving," Sora said, intending it to sound lighthearted, but the girl went pale. She regretted the comment, but there was no way to take it back. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

"You can open it, right?" she asked, indicating the door of the cage. Sora leaned down to inspect it. The bars had been tied shut with metal wire. It didn't look very strong. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she grunted, and took out her knife. With a firm, hard shove, she pushed the blade under the wiring and heaved upwards, slicing through it with minimal difficulty. Within seconds, the wire was cleaved in half and she yanked the door open. It shrieked on its hinges, a horrible scraping noise.

Laina sprang to her feet and out the opening, quick as a rabbit. Sora followed suit.
They'll notice what's going on any minute now.
“We need to go!” She took the lead, charging up the hill, throwing caution to the wind and making a mad dash to their tethered horses.

Abruptly a shout reached her ears. "Look!” she heard from somewhere behind her. “Lookie there! She's gettin' away!"

Uh-oh, not good!
Sora grabbed the girl by her skinny arm and hauled her up the hill faster.

Surprisingly, Laina pulled back.

"Are you stupid?" Sora snapped. “Go!”

"But Burn!" she exclaimed. "We can't leave him behind!"

Sora was momentarily shocked, but continued to drag the girl along. “He's fighting for you. Don't let his efforts go to waste!” she said. She didn't know if the girl would understand... but she was suddenly reminded of her younger self, as though from another life, saying much the same thing.

They reached the top of the hill and plunged into the tall grass. In this area, the fields were wild and golden, the grass arching almost above her head, a thick mass up to her shoulders. Some of the weeds had broad tufts on the ends, like fluffy white cattails, taller than a man. Spider webs glistened in the near-darkness.

The horses were tethered only a few dozen yards away, but it was slow going through the shadows. The light was merely a gray afterglow in the sky. Sora had to trust her instincts and sense of direction. She listened for the vague shifting and shuffling of the beasts, which were still out of sight.

Laina was even slower, the tangle of plants far above her head. There was no other option but for Sora to drop back next to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Did they hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine..." Laina panted. “Just... so tired....”

"The horses should be close," Sora said, hoping to encourage her. But when she looked back up, she realized that she had no idea which direction they were heading. The thick shrubbery offered no help. She kept listening for sounds from the beasts, but the clashes of battle were getting louder and the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. There was no time. She picked a route at random and took the lead again.

Behind them, the crash of bodies could be heard.

* * *

Crash fought through the disorganized crowd of bandits, looking for one in particular.

They swarmed in every which direction, chasing fires and dashing after horses. A few leapt in front of him, brandishing swords, but he slipped through them like a wraith, cutting down those who got too close. He was silent, fluid, as calm as a winter lake... except for one thought, which kept circling in his mind like a lone hawk.
Where is he?

Burn fought next to him, cleaving left and right, taking down several bandits with each swipe. Eventually they stopped rushing in and kept their distance, watching warily, uncertain.

“We have to get out of here before we get too deep into the camp,” Burn called to him. “Do you see Sora's bag anywhere?”

“No, but I know where it is,” Crash replied confidently.

Suddenly the assassin spotted him. His prey had harnessed one of the horses and was struggling toward the opposite side of the encampment, two other riders with him. It looked like he was trying to escape.

A rare grin passed over Crash's veiled face. Too easy. He could have thrown a knife to end the ordeal; his aim was perfect at this distance, and his hand itched to do it. He had already picked out the man's exposed neck, or perhaps his chest, unprotected by a thin linen shirt. But no, not this time. Crash wanted more than that. He needed to see those sickly green eyes; needed to know for sure....

“Go,” he called to Burn, and waved his hand, motioning to the edge of the camp. “Get out of here. Go meet Sora.”

“You sure?” Burn yelled. Then a bandit jumped at him from behind a pile of wood, thinking to take the Wolfy off-guard. He caught the man in mid-air and tossed him to the side.

“I'm sure,” Crash said, a glint in his eye. “See you in an hour.”

“Right.” Burn turned and started back toward the open plains. There was a horse milling around next to a spilled basket of hay. Crash saw him reach for the reins of the large beast.

Then the assassin went after a horse of his own and managed to grab one within a minute, unharnessed and wild from the fire. He caught the beast as it passed, jumping onto it bareback, firmly gripping the mane. After a short struggle of wills, he won control, then charged effortlessly through the masses. He was faster now that he had a target, directing the beast with his legs. It was the way he had originally learned to ride, back in his youth, when he had spent hours and hours on the beach, dashing through sand, rushing the surf and practicing with his bow.

He galloped to the other side of the camp, following his prey's trail. No one tried to stop him. On horseback, the Ravens barely glanced at him, too busy putting out fires.

His prey's trail led up the opposite riverbank and into the fields. Crash thundered after him, up the rocky ridge, into the wilderness, pushing the beast as fast as it could go. They danced over rocks and plunged through the tall grass. The light was dead in the sky, full nightfall upon them, the stars gleaming up above. If anything, Crash could see just as well in the darkness, his eyes bright and his senses attuned.

Within minutes, he caught up with them. Three figures struggled ahead of him, caught in a thick patch of bramble, the grass so high that the horses were practically drowning.

He drew his dagger and, with skilled aim, sent it flying through the neck of the nearest rider.

The first bandit fell from his horse, crumpling silently, so sudden that the beast didn't even respond. The other rider noticed and turned, eyes searching the darkness warily, but Crash leapt from his steed and entered the tall grass, becoming invisible. He drew another knife from his cloak, this one smaller, thinner, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the blade spinning into the second man's throat. The second rider fell just as silently as the first, almost gracefully, like a swan into black water.

The last one was their leader. Crash could sense his presence in the darkness; it was firm, confident.

The man leapt from his horse, landing smoothly on the ground. He peered into the shadows. Though Crash hadn't moved, the man's eyes went directly to him, staring at the thick patch of brush where he crouched. He knew this was the same one who had attacked Sora, and who doubtlessly had her bag.... They faced each other, a mere yard apart, and Crash stared at that scarred face.

He could remember the scar... recognized it. He could even remember the knife that had dealt it—a fine blade that his teacher had given him, so many years ago, long since lost in a river. They had been boys then, fighting for a title, a Name, too young to know anything else. Now they were older... but he doubted the man had forgotten.

His opponent stooped to the ground briefly, tugging the blade from the throat of the first rider. In that moment, the clouds shifted overhead and a full moon appeared, silver light cascading down upon them. The blade gleamed. The Raven's eyes flickered over it. Then he grinned.

“I remember this dagger,” the man murmured. “Viper.” His voice slid through the air like thick oil. “Fate is strange, indeed.”

“As I recall, they exiled you,” Crash replied, summoning the memories as though from a dream. How long had it been? Ten years, at least.

“I wanted that Name: the Viper,” the man laughed softly. “Wanted it badly. But you earned it....” He tossed the blade back to him. It landed at Crash's feet. “Yes, they exiled me after I lost that match.”

Crash picked up the dagger, gazing at it, lingering. They had grown up in the Hive, a nest of assassins trained in the killing arts. It was their heritage, their tradition. Born nameless, they had to earn their titles through combat. And if one competed for a Name and lost, he was exiled.