The Agent (12 page)

“Garran’s going to die!”

Albrekt laughed. “Probably!”

Adam clenched his fists and fought down his rising anxiety as the two combatants squared off. Neither of the fighters appeared concerned with the outcome, but for one of them, their confidence was inevitably misplaced.

Dyre struck out first, swinging his massive timber at Garran with enough force that it would likely have proved lethal had it connected. Garran ducked beneath the powerful stroke, charged forward, and landed several swift blows against the Hillman’s right knee, stomach, and lower back. The agent spun around after darting past and paused to inspect the damage he had wrought.

The big man turned without so much as a hitch in his step and grinned. Garran’s face betrayed his flagging confidence as he stepped back and took up a defensive stance. All three had been solid blows, but it felt as if he had struck a mountain of wet sand instead of flesh and bone.

Dyre’s clumsy opening had been a test to gauge Garran’s reaction, and the ruse became apparent as he launched into a skilled fighting routine of slashes and thrusts. The Hillman alternated his attacks between two-hand sword and staff skills. Garran barely managed to dodge the ferocious assault by tumbling and lunging with surprising nimbleness.

Garran desperately tried to find a flaw or weakness in the Hillman’s routine, but he failed to discover anything he could use to his advantage. He had hoped Dyre was nothing more than a brute that relied upon sheer power to overwhelm his foes, but his skill quickly disabused him of the notion. The power with which he put those skills into motion made parrying the attacks impossible. Attempting to do so would only lead to the swift conclusion of their battle.

Dyre was an enormous man and a smart fighter, but he was still a man no matter his size or ferocity. As such, he possessed the one weakness shared by all men, and Garran was going to need to take advantage of it if he had any hopes of gaining an edge.

Garran leapt back out of reach of Dyre’s next swing, lunged forward inside the big man’s swing, and dropped into a slide between his legs. The agent struck with both sticks and launched a kick up between the fleshy pillars for good measure, catching Dyre square in the groin with all three blows.

Garran rolled out from beneath the Hillman’s legs and took up a defensive posture several feet away to observe the result. Dyre dropped his weapon and stood hunched over, taking several deep breaths.

“Oh, he shouldn’t have done that,” Albrekt said in a low rumble. “Now it’s about to get interesting.”

Dyre slowly turned toward Garran, his face going almost purple with rage, and the whites of his eyes literally turning red from the tiny veins engorged with blood. The rager roared like a ferocious beast and charged with his hands outstretched, forgoing the weapon lying beside him.

“Oh shit,” Garran muttered.

Garran tried to lunge aside, but Dyre’s massive hand flashed out with incredible speed and snatched him off the ground. The Hillman swung the tiny flatlander around like a child and flung him through the air. The crowd directly within Garran’s trajectory parted before the human missile, and he struck a large tree several feet up from its base before dropping back to the ground.

Garran groaned and rolled painfully to his feet as he tried to force some air back into his lungs. His head snapped up at another bestial roar and saw Dyre charge toward him, devouring the ten meters of ground separating them in an instant.

“Come on, Garran,” Adam pleaded from the far side of the clearing.

Just as it looked as though he was about to be crushed to a pulp and smeared into the tree bark, time slowed to a crawl to Garran’s senses. Adam and the assembled crowd saw the flatlander flash aside so fast that most did not register the movement until Dyre smashed headlong into the base of the tree and recoil off its trunk.

Garran darted toward the middle of the clearing where he had dropped his weapons, snatched them off the ground, and charged back to launch a flurry of blows while Dyre was still reeling away from his collision with the tree. Strike after strike pummeled the Hillman like a madman playing a deranged tune on a human xylophone.

Dyre swatted at the impossibly fast man, but Garran was too swift and never stopped moving long enough for him to connect. For what seemed like several minutes to Garran’s senses, his unyielding attack barely fazed the rager. He refused to relent and continued his harried assault until the fury in Dyre’s eyes began to cloud over with exhaustion

Garran leapt onto the big man’s back, slipped both of his rods beneath Dyre’s thick jaw, and trapped the weapons against his throat by locking his hands behind his foe’s head. Dyre clawed at Garran for several moments before slumping to the ground and laying still. Dyre released a loud snore, and Garran stood with his arms raised triumphantly.

The Hillmen roared their approval, many bursting into the ring to clap Garran on the back so hard they nearly knocked him to the ground. Ernsta pushed through the crowd and threaded her arm through Garran’s.

“Have you ever transcended during sex?” she asked.

Garran grinned and led her away. “You are a genius. I can’t believe I never thought of that. I’ll meet you back at your lodge. I need to get something for the pain and to replenish my energy, and you’re going to want to hydrate.”

***

Adam woke early in the morning, hours before the sun crested, and stepped out of the lodge to relieve himself. He trekked through several inches of fresh snow that had fallen during the night and made his way to the edge of camp. He would definitely need to get a pot or bucket. He spotted a shape in the snow and almost dismissed it as a log or deeper shadow, but it had a vaguely human form to it, so he stalked over to investigate.

He found Garran lying face down wearing nothing but a shirt and pair of boots amidst a small clearing of snow melted by his own urine. Adam sighed, grabbed Garran under his armpits, and dragged him back to their lodge. He muscled him into his bed and covered him with blankets.

“How can you help me save my sister when I have to fight so hard to keep you from killing yourself?” Adam asked.

The question was rhetorical as Garran was hours from even attempting consciousness. Adam looked back at the door and cursed as his bladder reminded him why he had gone out in the first place.

CHAPTER 14

Evelyn walked sedately down the grand hall toward the palace’s chapel, her yellow saffron gown trailing a silk train that cost as much as a typical merchant earned in a year. Handmaidens surrounded her like a king’s personal guard on a battlefield. Aniston kept in lockstep with her on her left side.

The Queen tilted her head toward Aniston and whispered, “Your first mission was a success.”

Aniston crinkled his brow as it took a moment for him understand her meaning. He fought to control his surprise and was only slightly successful. “Are you sure? It has only been three weeks.”

“I might be a novice at this sort of thing, but I know my body.”

Aniston’s heart pounded in his chest and sweat beaded his forehead. Not only was he going to be a father, his son was now the next in line for succession to the throne, an ascension not long in the making if he and Evelyn got their way. Now more than ever he prayed for Garran’s success.

Evelyn nodded her head toward a soldier standing sentry against the wall and two others opposite him. “That one on the left and the two just ahead on our right. I want you to begin working on your next mission soon. It sickens me to see these men still drawing breath while my family rots in the ground.”

Aniston committed the men’s faces to memory and added them to the growing list of people his queen wanted dead. “I think the people’s perception of you being the sweet princess was a bit misguided.”

“The Guild killed her as well. Now they will suffer the monster that rose and took her place. I hope you can remember them all.”

“I have an excellent memory. Most of the guards will be on duty tonight, what with the royal wedding and all. It provides me an excellent opportunity to carry out your command.”

“Have you found the man named Dragoslav yet?”

Aniston shook his head. “No, he seems to be like a vicious dog that hides under the porch until his master commands him to kill. I have a plan to deal with the officer tonight who led the soldiers and perhaps a few others if the opportunity arises.”

Evelyn inclined her head. “Excellent. This should make good practice for the bigger game I have in mind.”

“I have already begun investigating the most treasonous members of parliament. Garran left me with some notes he made over the last couple of years, and I think I can safely convict a few of directly supporting The Guild’s actions. With Gordon on the throne and The Guild firmly in control, some have begun to feel safe and their security has grown lax.”

“Good. I want them to feel safe right up to the moment you plunge a knife into their hearts.” Evelyn and her entourage stopped before the chapel’s massive doors. “God, how I wish I could put that knife into Gordon before the night ends.”

Aniston saw the revulsion hidden behind her steely resolve as she hesitated before the doors. She was about to be wed to the man who played a part in murdering her family. Worse yet, they would consummate that marriage in just a few hours.

“I wasn’t supposed to share this with you, but I think you should know. I hope you can draw strength from it.” Aniston leaned closer and whispered. “I got a message from Garran today. He and your brother are safe.”

Evelyn stifled a gasp. “Where are they?”

“Somewhere in the Highland Range. They have to hole up there until the end of winter before pressing on. He did not say where they were going or what they were going to do next, only to keep safe and wait for them.”

“Wait for what?”

“I don’t know, but knowing Garran, it won’t be subtle.”

Evelyn smiled and touched Aniston’s arm. “Thank you. Hope shall be my shield.”

Music emanated through the doors, Evelyn’s cue to begin her procession down the aisle. The doors opened, and she and her handmaidens marched toward the altar. Gordon stood before the bishop in front of the altar in a formal military dress uniform replete with decorative sword, yet another symbol he failed to earn.

Gordon missed or ignored the shudder Evelyn failed to suppress when she laid her arm atop his. “You look…I suppose considering what happens tonight, ravishing best fits the description.”

Evelyn plastered a fake smile onto her lips. “You may take my body, but my heart and soul will never be yours.”

“It is a good thing neither of those parts matter to me. As long as you produce my heir, you may keep such inconsequential things for yourself.”

“Do not worry. I am sure I will produce a fine son.”

Gordon grinned. “With such good stock, how could you not?”

Evelyn returned his smile. “How indeed?”

***

Aniston stared at the closed doors of the chapel. He had no desire to attend the wedding. Besides, his shift was long past over, and he was exhausted.

“Don’t worry, lover boy, you’ll have her back as soon as Gordon is done with her.”

Aniston jumped at the unexpected voice and spun to face Martin. “What?” he asked, his heart pounding.

Martin clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “I’m just kidding. Everyone knows you prefer the sword to the scabbard. Still, best go get some sleep. Gregor wants us to keep a close eye on the Princess, I mean Queen. Women can get emotional and do foolish things, and he doesn’t want her to do something that will upset their plans.”

“Right.”

Aniston glanced over his shoulder and saw Martin disappear into the chapel. He stopped in front of a full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Why did people think he was a fancy boy? He picked at a spot on his shirt and frowned then directed his attention to his fingernails. They were becoming worn and dull. He would need to go get that taken care of when he found the time.

“Ah, now I see it,” he told the image in the mirror.

He smiled. Let them think what they want. He cuckoled the King, and now the Queen was carrying his child. Martin was right about one thing. He needed to get some sleep. It was unlikely he was going to have to stand guard tonight, the thought making him frown, but he was going to be far from idle.

***

“Congratulations on your coronation and wedding, Highness,” Joshua Roux said as he tipped his glass of wine at Gordon.

“Thank you, Joshua. I could not have done it without you and The Guild.”

“Indeed. Let us never forget it, not even for a moment. The most audacious part of our plan is nearly complete, but I have far grander achievements in mind, and they all hinge upon your continued success and full cooperation.”

“Absolutely. I will do whatever I can to support The Guild.”

“We expect nothing less. With you now on the throne, we will be able to bring the other kingdoms fully under our control within a few years. It will be a glorious new age.” He directed his attention to Gregor. “I am concerned with your progress in bringing Adam into the fold and dealing with this renegade agent of yours. While I cannot possibly foresee them disrupting our plans, they do represent a variable I would like to see eliminated.”

Gordon scoffed. “Yeah, Gregor, I thought you were supposed to be the best at this sort of stuff. This green recruit of yours is making you look like a fool.”

Gregor’s hand flashed and slapped Gordon’s face with enough force to snap his head to the side.

Gordon pressed his hand to his stinging cheek and glared. “I am your king!”

“Until I get Adam back and ensure he cannot foul the new line of succession so I can properly retire, you are my bitch.”

“Joshua?” Gordon pleaded.

“He’s right. You would not be here without us, and we would not be here without Gregor. You will do as he says. Do we still not know where our wayward prince is?”

“We know he and Garran fled north and are not in Moorwind, so that means they are somewhere in the Highland Range.”

Adam snorted. “That narrows it down to a few thousand square miles of nigh-impenetrable mountains and forest.”

Gregor raised a hand and Gordon flinched away. “The only logical direction for them to go is Arnao. I have several agents scouring their capital and border towns, but none has reported any sighting. I believe they have wintered somewhere in the mountains, and we will have to wait until spring to catch them when they come down.”

“Spring?” Gordon exclaimed. “You expect me to just sit here for months while the one person who can dethrone me and some deranged agent are lurking in the shadows? Why don’t we send parties out into the mountains and flush them out?”

“You truly are an idiot. Not only are there
thousands of square miles of nigh-impenetrable mountains and forest
, as you needlessly pointed out, there are some ten thousand or more Hillman warriors dotting the landscape who do not take well to trespassers. Especially Anatolian trespassers.”

Gordon smiled. “Maybe they have solved our problem for us?”

“Let us hope not,” Joshua said. “Remember, we want Evelyn’s cooperation, and we need Adam in order to ensure it.”

“Besides,” Gregor added, “Garran is surprisingly good at ingratiating himself with certain kinds of people.”

Gordon set his near-finished drink on the table. “Speaking of ingratiating, I have a wedding to consummate, so if you will all excuse me.”

Gregor stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Treat her properly as the Queen and your wife. Mistreat her, and I will have done to you whatever you do to her three times over. And I mean
whatever
you have done.”

Gordon furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head. “Aren’t we going to kill her once my heir reaches his age of confirmation anyway?”

“That is the plan, but until then, act accordingly.”

Gordon shook his head. “I do not understand politics.”

“That is why you need to do exactly what I say.”

***

Aniston listened at the door until the conversations appeared to be coming to a close. He darted into a darkened alcove and waited. Within moments, Gordon, Gregor, and a man he was certain was Joshua Roux, emerged. None of this surprised him. Garran had long suspected that The Guild’s High Councilman was the driving force behind the audacious plot, but directly linking Joshua with any of the covert actions had come to naught. The Guildsman was supremely careful in his dealings, and neither he nor Garran had been able to discover a conspirator closer than three points removed from any of his dealings.

This was the first time Aniston knew of Joshua dealing directly with either Gregor or Gordon, and it was far from implausible that his connection to both men went back much further. Still, it was not evidence of treason or even conspiracy. Even if it were, assassinating a king was child’s play compared to getting at Joshua Roux.

Aniston released the breath he had been holding until the men vanished down the hall. Tonight was not the time to deal with them anyway. One did not take up the bow and begin firing at far-flung targets. You started with the big, easy ones close up and worked your way toward the more challenging ones.

The wedding was long over, and the hours of feasting and celebration was finally winding down. The thought of Gordon and Evelyn consummating their marriage revolted him. Evelyn was an unwilling participant. That made it tantamount to rape in his mind, and there was nothing he could do about it. The fact that she was the mother of his child made him want to plunge a knife into Gordon’s back the moment he entered her bedchamber. Was it more than that? Was he falling in love with her? She was certainly beautiful, and they did share something meaningful, at least to him. Did she feel the same way, or was he just a tool she used to prevent something more awful from happening to her? He shook the thoughts from his head. He had work to do.

He had gotten a few hours of sleep, but the task ahead left him feeling exhausted before he even began. Aniston had been trained in assassination, but play-acting and actually taking a life were two completely different things. Perhaps washing out of school had not been such an injustice after all. If he was having such doubts already, then he likely was not suited to the Diplomatic Corps. Garran possessed very few admirable traits, but Aniston envied his ability to block out all emotion or sense of guilt at times like this.

Aniston traversed the halls and corridors until he reached the outer grounds. It took him only about ten minutes to find the man he was looking for despite the expanses of darkness lingering between the patches of light created by the torches, braziers, and rare oil lantern. He knew Captain Owens was on duty tonight and was familiar with his rounds. Even if he were not about to die, the young officer’s lack of original thinking and lackadaisical attitude ensured that his career had likely reached its peak.

“Captain Owens,” Aniston called out as he approached. “Long night?”

The Captain squinted into the gloom and straightened up when he recognized Aniston. “Indeed, this damn wedding has me pulling a double shift. Aren’t you one of the fellows set to watch the Princess?”

“She’s the Queen now, but yes. The wedding has disrupted my duties just as it has yours. Mind if I walk with you on your rounds?”

“Suit yourself, but I figured you’d be helping the King sheath his sword.”

Aniston chuckled. “I think he can manage that on his own.”

“I’m sure he’s capable of wiping his own ass, but I bet he’s got someone for that too.”