The Assassin's Mark (Skeleton Key) (13 page)

The bartender hesitated in the alley, which was my cue.

I whirled around, pressing a dagger to his soft stomach before the man had time to figure out what happened. Three shadows in the alley hardened before they walked closer to the mouth to the alley.

“Listen here, friend. There are more of us than you.” A voice came from the figures in the darkness, carrying no annoyance, merely a cold statement of facts and a promise of what would unfold if I pushed harder.

I simply sent the bartender away and sheathed my knife beneath my cloak. “Good. I thought you might be amateurs. Do you want to see a queen on the throne or are we going to argue about business proposals until the guards hear us?” My voice carried enough force to make the nearest merchants skitter away.

Quick footsteps sounded a moment before I was dragged into the shadows.

For the next hour, I talked with those in charge of Darkview’s anarchic side. The thieves and beggars were well aware of what would happen if Doyle permanently established his rule. Peasants, merchants, nobles, and thieves would all suffer equally.

In a tyrannical state, thieves would be rounded up for “public safety,” and after them, the dissidents would follow their friends into the dungeons. It wasn’t hard to convince them that there needed to be change.

What many kept bringing up was the castles fortifications. The beggars knew that everyone and everything going through the gates was inspected thoroughly. The thieves had noticed the castle’s escape tunnels were being guarded heavily, and the sewers beneath the citadel was carefully watched.

I was dragged from meeting to meeting as the spark of a rebellion was ignited. Spent and finally out of breath, I ducked into a small alleyway to catch a wink of shut-eye while the criminal minds of the city deliberated on what to do. Barely fifteen minutes passed before I was nudged awake by a curious man in chainmail wearing Doyle’s regalia as well as his own. Groggily, I rose to my feet and waited for him to speak. He hadn’t stabbed me yet, so he obviously had something to say.

“Edward, I believe. Don’t move too much. Sir Alan said you could get quite jumpy. There are those in the castle who don’t care much for Doyle. I wouldn’t mind gaining an upper hand in certain arrangements after he is dealt with. But we can talk about that later. Let’s say you’ll owe me. Give me your word to honor a reasonable request later.” I nodded, not about to say that my decisions didn’t matter Brigit’s did. “Now then, I might have a way of getting you inside the castle. If what I’ve heard from Sir Alan is true, you’ll do fine.” The man kept talking and talking...and talking. After a while I lifted a hand to make him stop his long winded monologue.

“First of all, I want to know your name. Secondly, what is this way in?” I asked, keeping myself as calm as I could.

“My apologies. I’m Daniel Lemore. I forget you haven’t been in Freehaven long. My way to get you inside is simple. You’ll prove yourself combat worthy. There’s a small tournament this evening to hire even more disgruntled people to Doyle’s growing army using the kingdom’s money,” Daniel said with a smile in his voice.

Oh great, this man absolutely loves this idea. But there’s a chance it might work
.

Hashing out the plan with Daniel took an hour during which he dragged me to a tavern to feed me while a bath was drawn for me. He insisted I thoroughly groom myself. Apparently a band of mercenaries were acting as officers, and he wanted me to take one of their positions.

As our plan came together, time began to run out. We made our way by carriage to the castle where fighting cages had been set up to test new contestants. Daniel whispered to me the entire time. He was quite the nervous talker.

The cages saw brutal matches, and eventually, the masters of the small games selected a handful of the winners.

My turn came next, and I was led to a small wooden cage with sand spread out on the floor. My opponent stepped in soon after. He was a thick butcher with arms as big around as my head. Thankfully, there wasn’t much intelligence in his eyes. As soon as our weapons were handed to us, he lunged at me as if hoping for a quick kill. The swords we were given were a dull bronze, and I sneered at their condition. Perhaps the game masters wanted a combat of skills instead of having the losers outright killed.

Biding my time, I danced out of the butcher’s way a few times, slicing into his arms and legs. The hefty man pushed on, unwilling to admit defeat. Time was running short, and the other cages had already been changed. “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath.

He roared like a beast and lunged forward.

I clenched the sword in both hands, knowing what I needed to do. I rested hilt against the heavy wooden support and crouched at the last moment. Air exploded from my lungs as he smacked into me, but then he fell to the ground with the sword still in his chest. Blood trickled from the wound, and I pushed to my feet. Among the cheers around me, I heard the words I’d hoped for. “This one.” One of the game master above pointed to the cage I was in.

Relief lifted a weight off my shoulders, and it took restraint not to smile.

The rest of the evening was dedicated to festivities for the winners. I waited until they started to quiet down before I relieved myself in the latrines. On the way back, I spied a tunnel that seemed to extend into the castle. Sticking to the shadows, I made my way into the tunnels. It intersected with many others, and it took me a moment to find the section Daniel had told me about. The one pointed toward the kitchen.

The castle was like a multi-layered cake with the dungeons and darker aspects hidden in the floors below, then the servants, the usual kitchen, and supply rooms. The guards and nobility stayed on the floors above. The more important prisoners were reportedly held in the Eastern Tower with a window to landscape away from the city. Following the route Daniel had drilled into my head, I took three staircases, two of them down and one up, to avoid most of the guards. The tunnels I was in were below ground level and the only lighting I received was from an occasional torch.

The heavy footsteps of the occasional guard echoed easily in the tunnels, making it easy to avoid a confrontation with them. A small nook or cranny usually got me out of the harm’s way, but it made for slow progress. It took nearly half an hour before I saw the dark skies above. The weather appeared to be turning again. Lightning in the distance spoke of yet another storm heading for the city.

The next step was the most dangerous. Once outside on a small platform of stone, wood, and sand I located the Eastern Tower. Guards walked around it, leaving me with a route option I’d hoped to avoid.

The inner courtyards, stables, and other buildings had roofs built to withstand the occasional projectile from a catapult, but none of them were close by. Instead of relying on a purely athletic approach, I took my time and stuck to the shadows caused by their torches.

I pulled my cloak off and doused it with what little water I had left, hoping it was enough. Approaching one of the torches slowly, I remained at the edge of the light and waited. When my opportunity arrived, I quickly extinguished the flame with the sopping wet cloak. It would grant me a narrow window of time, and I took it. The guards would notice the flame having gone out in a moment, so I darted toward away and nearly sighed in relief as the guards who’d been in the way went to inspect the extinguished torch.

The climb would be long, but it might be the only way in. I was just happy it hadn’t started raining yet. My hands were blistered before I even the hit halfway point where I had to take shelter from the strong winds. In my mind, it made things easier. No one would think to look at the outside of the tower for a suicidal rescue attempt. After ten minutes of break, I continued as the winds calmed a little. Even so, a handful of times I nearly lost my grip on the smooth stones, but I eventually made it to the first level with a balcony of sorts. There were no guards, so I ducked inside the tower.

The balcony led to an old guardhouse intended to provide for guards protecting the tower. The stairwell was quiet behind the door, so I opened it and continued up. Two levels later, there was a pair of torches on the wall, and a lonely guard who’d fallen asleep leaning against the cold stone walls.

I slid my knife across his throat, dispatching him easily before I took his keys and opened the door beside him. A delicate shape curled up on the bed, apparently asleep. I dragged the guard’s corpse inside and secured the door before jogging to the bed. Brigit looked so beautiful in her slumber. Her features were innocent, yet a little bedraggled from the rough few days she had.

“Brigit, we have to escape before they know I’m here,” I whispered quietly. It took a few moments of coaxing to get her to believe it was truly me.

Heavy thumping against the door drew our attention. The room was a decent size, but it was no place for extended fighting. I brought out my gun and hoped the storm outside would mask the sound of the gunshots when I eventually used them.

The door broke apart as the men behind effortlessly chopped it to bits. As soon as I saw a helmeted face on the other side, I took a careful aim and shot him in the eye. He dropped out of sight, and there was a thud in the hallway. With a limited amount of bullets left, I hoped I had enough.

“Sir Alan mentioned during his torture that you had some sort of toy with you. Shame you chose to be my opponent. I would have liked to know you, Edward. Kill him.” A brooding voice came from the stairway as the men pushed into the room, four of them total.

I shot two of them before they got into close proximity. The remaining two were armed with huge greatswords. The one on the left took a step forward, and I put a bullet in his torso. The other lunged at me with his sword, and I barely moved out of the way. The swordsman’s momentum with his blade carried too far, and he hit one of the nightstands nearby. Holding his arm, I shot him point blank in the face.

A man with extremely dark skin ducked into the room, throwing a dagger at me. Time slowed down as I used the merc’s body as a shield and pulled the trigger.
Click.

No, not now!
The gun should’ve had half a clip left, but it had finally given up. The mechanism had jammed, and I didn’t have time to clean it. The moment I’d look away, I would be an open target for him.

Brigit

Edward drew his sword and another from one of the dead mercenaries. Doyle swept his eyes to me, then back to his opponent. The two men in the room couldn’t be more different. One of them loved me and the other wanted me as means to an end. Edward was kindhearted and had helped out someone he didn’t even know. Doyle mercilessly sent hundreds, if not thousands of men out to secure a throne for his eventual heir.

The entire situation made my heart ache. I wanted it all to end. I wanted to be free and safe. I took a sword from the barely cold corpse beside me and turned back to see both men glare at me. They brutally fought, blade striking blade, and each picked up speed as the assault fight. Doyle was armored, but Edward only normal clothes that seemed to do little to protect him from the cuts the men gave one another. While Edward had scratches here and there, Doyle had a long gash on his face. He’d been arrogant and unruly with his sword, but I knew it was unlikely Edward would score a similar hit anytime soon. While Doyle’s armor kept him moving a little slower, he had more skill than Edward. Edward compensated with a precise strikes, but sooner or later, their uneven skill would turn against him. The storm outside was building up momentum, and the electricity filled the air around us.

The lightning struck outside in time with the swords clashing, lighting the dark chamber with an eerie glow. The blades reflected light that made the scene feel even more surreal. Why couldn’t my uncle just leave us alone? I drew the throwing dagger, and he effortlessly dodged out of the way. It barely missed Edward’s extended arm as he reached in slice the space Doyle’s arm had been moments before. The smell of sweat and blood permeated the room.

If I didn’t do something, the man I loved would die.

A bolt of lightning hit the tower causing it to shake a little and driving the men apart. They looked at one another warily before preparing for another barrage of violence.

“You’re experienced, but you haven’t trained long enough. The lunged and feints you use are too shallow. You seem to be afraid to die, moving away just before landing another cut,” Doyle said, trying to goad Edward.

“You’re one to say. After all, you’ve barely harmed an unarmored man. Most of the scratches I have are from climbing up here. You get too cocky. Even if you live, whenever you look in the mirror, you’ll always see the scar and know a better man than you did that.” Edward’s voice remained calm and detached, and his blue eyes reflected the lightning outside.

My heart leapt almost as fast as Doyle did. Edward slammed his forehead against Doyle’s face, breaking his nose. Furious, Doyle ignored his nose and punched Edward in the ribs. There was an audible crack, but nothing reflected on Edward’s face even as a few drops of blood stained his lips.

My body burned from within. I couldn’t watch him die. I looked down to see my hands were bright red. As Doyle reached for him again, a loud boom came from the other side of the tower that threw off his aim.

Edward seized the opportunity and kicked Doyle in the knee. He easily turned and landed a second kick to his chest with his other leg. A loud snap reverberated through the room as Doyle’s head hit the wall behind him.

Doyle threw a knife out from his right side that barely missed Edward’s head. Edward widened his eyes and took a careful step back. There was little chance of him pushing further in the state he was in. While Doyle was heavily injured, his armor and helmet had saved him from much damage so far.

As the men grew quiet I knew it had gotten serious. There was no taunting anymore, both of them were fully committed to killing the other. The scratches on Edward’s arms grew in number, while gouges were created in Doyle’s armor.