Assassin's Charge: An Echoes of Imara Novel Page 8

  “Good,” Rhis said. “That will do.”

  He nodded, dropping the last finished stake, and held the knife out to her.

  “No, you keep that,” she said and he looked down at the dagger, his grip on the hilt loose. “Do you ever go hunting with your dad?”

  Asher stood and nodded again. “Yes.”

  “Good, I need you to head in that direction,” she said, pointing. “Not too far, but find a place to hide. I want you to be as quiet as if you were waiting for a deer or watching a rabbit snare. Can you do that?”

  “I think so. Where should I hide?”

  Rhis pulled out a waterskin and poured a bit of water on the ground at her feet, then scooped up the mud and rubbed it between her palms. “This will help,” she said, wiping the dirt across his face. Asher flinched, scrunching his nose. “Find a place where the plants are thick and dig your way into them. Cover yourself so you can’t see out and wait for my signal. I’ll whistle when it’s over.”

  Asher furrowed his dirty brow as Rhis wiped mud across her own face. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “No,” he said, with a quick shake of his head.

  “Just hide and be silent.”

  He adjusted his pack on his shoulder and turned, picking his way through the brush. His footfalls were light and he stepped carefully, leaving little sign of his passage as he moved away from her. Rhis let her own pack drop and took another look around. She had more work to do.

  ***

  The crack of a twig made Rhis look up. She sat huddled on a tree branch, her back to the rough bark of the trunk, waiting. After preparing the area as best she could, and ensuring their trail was easy to follow, she’d used her hand and boot spikes to climb a large tree, working her way up to a branch that was thick enough to hold her. Asher hid, deep in the foliage some distance away. Rhis hoped he would stay where he was.

  A bird took to the air, its wings rustling as it flapped away. Straining her ears, she waited for the sound of the guards. Had they followed deep enough into the forest? They might have turned back. She couldn’t decide if she hoped they had gone. Although she didn’t relish a fight, not knowing if they were still pursuing would keep her up nights. Better to have it over and done with.

  A snap cut through the quiet. Someone was definitely coming. They’d have to be on foot; their horses wouldn’t have been able to get through the undergrowth any better than hers. If she had any luck, she’d be able to retrieve one of their horses for Asher, although she needed to get rid of their riders first.

  Movement caught her eye near the trail she and Asher had left. A man in leather armor crept through the trees, his head turning from side to side. A twig broke beneath his foot and he halted at the sound, his hand darting to the sword at his belt. Not far behind him, another man picked his way through the brush. He spoke a word but the first man threw up a hand, cutting him off before he could make more than a small sound.

  High above the forest floor, Rhis watched while three more men closed in. They began to spread out, and she could see at least one would swing wide around her traps. If she’d had more time, she would have encircled the area with snares, but time was not a luxury she possessed. She fiddled with the arrow in her hand as the men drew closer, willing them to keep coming—and to steer clear of the boy.

  A crack sounded as one of the guards stepped forward, and a thick branch lined with sharp stakes whipped around, sinking into his gut. His mouth dropped open and he looked down, his hands held out to the side. There was a brief silence, then his shriek cut through the stillness. The man nearest to him dashed over, crashing through the underbrush. Then that man stumbled and fell as his feet plunged into a hole. His wail at the spiked bottom joined that of the first guardsman.

  The other men stopped in their tracks and drew their weapons, looking around. One brandished a sword, but the other two pulled out bows and held arrows ready. Rhis held still, her own short bow in her hand. Her heart thumped, but she kept her breathing easy. Patience.

  “Don’t move,” one of the bowmen shouted. His eyes swept the forest, his bow raised. “They must be close.”

  The first man continued wailing and Rhis thought about putting an arrow through his chest just to shut him up. The guard with his feet in the pit groaned and turned onto his back. Rhis had placed wooden spikes in and around the hole, and one protruded from his thigh. He held out a shaking hand toward the wound before slumping back to the ground, moaning. The other guard wrenched the spikes from his abdomen and stumbled backward, blood gushing from the deep wounds. His legs wobbled and he crumpled to the the ground with a sharp cry of pain.

  With his sword held out in front of him, one of the guards took a tentative step forward. “What do we do?”

  “Be careful where you step.”

  The swordsman lowered his weapon and turned to look at his companion. “As if that isn’t obvious.” Using his blade to push aside the brush, he took a few more steps forward, clearing the way as he went. With a gasp, he halted. “Here! There’s a cord.”

  Rhis pressed her lips together and raised her bow, pulling back on the string. Time to come out of hiding. With a thwack, she loosed an arrow. A heartbeat later it plunged through the swordsman’s neck. He gurgled, blood bubbling from his mouth, and his body seemed to hover as if dangling from a string. His feet caught on the cord he’d discovered, and another spiked branch whipped around, sinking into his chest as he fell.

  Grasping her smooth rope, Rhis jumped from her perch and used it to quickly lower herself to the ground. She landed in a crouch and an arrow flew above her head, sinking into the thick bark of the trunk.

  “There!” one of the men cried, and Rhis darted to the side, keeping low.

  “Where is she?”

  “That way!”

  Another arrow flew, ripping through the brush nearby. Rhis kept moving, crawling through the thick undergrowth, making sure to move away from Asher’s hiding place. Bushes rustled as the guards moved, and Rhis popped up, sending an arrow flying. Before it could meet its mark, she dove to the ground and scurried in the opposite direction.

  “I’m hit!”

  Rhis risked a quick look. Her arrow protruded from the guard’s arm, but she’d missed hitting anything vital. His weapon was lowered and the other guard squinted, trying to find her among the green. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, she shot again. This time the small arrow stuck through the unprotected flesh of his throat and he dropped his bow, his hands darting up to his neck.

  “Shit,” the remaining guard said. Holding his bow aloft, he moved it from side to side, standing stationary as if afraid to take another step forward.

  Rhis popped up from the brush to fire, but he saw her and shot. The arrow sliced by with a swish. The guard dropped out of sight, into the bushes, Rhis’s arrow flying over his head. She ducked low again, crouching, and listened. The first guard had gone silent, but the moans of another still carried through the trees. Something rustled to her right. She skimmed across a bit of open ground, and put her back to the trunk of another tree. An arrow glanced off the thick bark and dropped into the bushes as Rhis pulled out a sleek dagger.

  “I know you’re back there,” the guard said. “Come out slowly and no one else has to get hurt.”

  His feet crunched through the debris, and Rhis hesitated, clutching the dagger. As she darted a quick glance around the trunk, the guard took another step. His foot caught on a cord and he gasped. A rock wound with rope holding Asher’s whittled stakes flew down and smashed him in the face. His body sailed backward under the force of the blow, blood spraying, and landed hard in the bushes, the small branches crunching under his weight.

  Rhis let out the breath she’d been holding and stepped out from the tree, still holding her dagger ready. A quick survey of the area showed no guards remaining, at least that she could see. Taking careful steps, she moved toward the last man. She’d quickly pick o
ver their bodies before she called for Asher. They might have weapons worth taking, but she knew Asher might go into hysterics over seeing their remains.

  A branch cracked. Rhis whipped her head around to find the guard with the injured leg propped up on one knee, his bow pointed at her. As she drew in a quick breath and raised her arm to throw her dagger, a shout rang out behind the guard. Asher plunged a knife into his back. The guard’s eyes went wide, his bow dropping from his hands. Rhis threw, and her dagger stuck into the man’s chest, just below his neck. He grunted and jerked as it hit, and his eyes rolled back. His body slumped to the ground.

  Asher stood, wide-eyed and gasping, a smear of the guard’s blood on his hands. With his mouth hanging open, he looked down, his bottom lip trembling.

  Rhis took a breath to steady herself and walked over to the boy. She put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. With a sob, he collapsed into her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Rhis glanced around, unsure of what to do as he took shuddering breaths. She patted his back, feeling awkward. After a long moment, she pulled his arms away and pushed him back a step.

  “We need to go.”

  Asher took a deep breath and wiped his nose across his sleeve, leaving a smudge of clean skin across his dirt smeared face. “Okay.”

  Rhis nodded and led him wide around her snares, ensuring neither of them accidentally tripped the ones the guards had missed, and made their way back to her horse.

  TWELVE: RICKSON

  A haze of dingy gray hung over the hills as they neared Varale. Surrounded by a high wall, the city clustered together in a tight jumble of buildings, curls of dark smoke too numerous to count rising into the air. Rhis pulled the reins of her horse and paused as Asher rode up beside her. The guards from Sunhold had left their mounts tied up near her horse, all in a neat row. It was a relief to have the boy riding on his own, rather than bunched up behind her. Thankfully, he could ride well enough and they’d taken to the road without any sign of pursuit. She’d steered them around the few villages along the way, except once when they needed supplies; she wanted to avoid being seen as much as possible. It was hard to say how far Cormant had spread his net, and she wanted to avoid word of their movements getting back to him.

  “It looks so dirty,” the boy said.

  “Wait until we get inside. It smells worse than it looks.”

  Asher scrunched his nose. “How long do we have to stay?”

  “We’ll be gone as soon as possible,” Rhis said. “We have new names here. You are Joras and I’m Hannah. I’m not your mother, I’m your aunt. Your mother and father died in a fire when you were little and now I take care of you. We’re from a merchant family, so we travel a lot. Can you remember all that?”

  He nodded. “I’m Joras and you’re Hannah.”

  “And don’t gawk at everything,” Rhis said. “You can’t look like a country kid who’s never seen a city before.”

  “Will people be trying to find us here?”

  “Maybe,” Rhis said, turning back to the city. “It depends on how hard they’re looking.” And whether Cormant has strong enough contacts to sway the city guard. “Varale is larger and busier than Sunhold. It should be easier to go unnoticed.”

  “But what if they are looking for us?” he asked, fear obvious in his voice.

  Rhis sighed. “Then follow my lead and do as I say. Besides, you have a knife, and you obviously know how to use it.”

  Asher’s face went white and he swallowed hard.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said. With a gentle kick, she started the horse forward.

  Varale wasn’t the obvious choice, which formed the entire basis of its appeal. There were port cities closer to Sunhold where she could take to the sea, and Varale had a reputation for being particularly seedy and dangerous. Rhis had been there once before, and at the time had resolved never to return.

  She glanced back at Asher, following a few feet behind. He hadn’t said much since the forest, although his silence lacked the sullenness of their first days on the road. Rhis understood this sort of quiet, the introspection necessary after a first kill. Although she couldn’t recall the details of all the contracts she’d fulfilled, she carried the first man she’d killed inside her, his face forever burned in her memory.

  No one stopped them at the wide-open gate. The only guard was snoozing with his feet up on a fallen log. A snore escaped his mouth as they passed through. Rhis led them a short distance inside, the smell assaulting her nose. Horse dung littered the streets, and piles of refuse buzzed with flies in narrow alleys whose putrid contents spilled out into the main street. The wind from the harbor was unable to reach the interior of the city, so a haze of wood smoke hung in the air. Rhis knew they would grow accustomed to the stench if they stayed long enough, but she hoped they wouldn’t have the opportunity.

  Asher kept close by her side as they picked their way through the muddy street. Despite the filth and the smell, she chided herself for not bringing them through Varale in the first place. It was a miscalculation on her part to return through Sunhold. She’d underestimated Cormant’s reach and the speed with which he would react.

  She stopped at an inn with a large stable in back. A boy about Asher’s age took their horses while she arranged lodging for the night. Once in their room, Asher sat on the edge of the bed, his pack at his feet.

  “I’ll go down to the harbor and secure passage on a ship,” she said. “You stay here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I won’t be long,” she said. She didn’t want Asher getting in the way while she sought out the sort of vessel she needed. “Stay in the room. We’ll get dinner later.”

  Asher’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t argue, so she headed back into the streets.

  As she neared the water, the haze of smoke abated with the breeze, but the scent of fish and rotting sea creatures filled the air. Rhis knew where she was going. The last time she’d been in Varale, an inn near the docks had been a good place to find the sort of person she was looking for. Varale had a thriving black market, and a smuggler would transport them with the discretion she needed.

  She went straight to the inn, if one could call it such. Part whorehouse, part tavern with rooms for rent above, the dilapidated building was set on a pier over the water, and looked liable to crumble into the harbor.

  The front had a wide porch with several horses tied up outside, and the wall was scorched, as if recently burned in a fire. A few people in tattered clothes wandered by, but the street was fairly quiet. A low hum of noise drifted from inside the inn, and the smell of pipe smoke lingered heavy in the air, even outside. With a quick look at the street to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she pushed open the door and walked inside.

  A dozen conversations buzzed. Most of the patrons hunched low, leaning over their drinks to speak in quiet voices. A few tossed dice onto the tables, the small stacks of coin indicating the serious games of the day had yet to begin. The walls were streaked with soot and grime, and the air was thick with smoke, but the stench wasn’t any worse than outside. At least pipe smoke smelled better than rotting fish. A few women with garishly painted faces lounged in a corner, their low-cut dresses leaving little to the imagination. One sat up as Rhis entered, but slouched down again, fanning herself with a paper fan.

  Rhis took a seat at a small table with her back to the wall. After a few moments’ wait, a man approached in an apron that might have once been white, but was now a dingy brown.

  “Drink?” he asked, revealing a mouth full of yellowed teeth.

  “Sure,” she said, although she didn’t really want anything.

  He gave a brief nod and turned to walk away.

  “And,” she said, pausing while he looked back, “I need to see someone about booking passage.” She tossed two coins on the table, more than was necessary for the drink.

  With another nod, he scooped up the money and walked away. A few moments later, he returned with a t
all mug of what Rhis assumed was ale. She gave it a sniff, decided she didn’t want to confirm its contents, and left it to sit on the table in front of her.

  Long moments passed and Rhis tapped her fingers on the tabletop, her patience quickly waning. She didn’t want to leave the boy alone too long.

  A man in a well-tailored jacket slipped into the chair opposite her. His dark hair was combed back in a neat swoop, and his crisp shirt had a wide collar beneath his coat.

  Rhis raised her eyebrows. “Captain Rickson.”

  Rickson’s face broke into a wide smile. Light stubble covered his strong jaw and his blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “Look what the tide brought in. Rhisia Sen. It’s been a while.”

  “That it has,” Rhis said. She had bought passage on Rickson’s ship a number of times in the past, but she hadn’t seen him in several years.

  “You look….” Rickson’s eyes flicked up and down. “Perilous.”

  “Do I?” she asked. “Perhaps I should find someone with a stronger constitution.”

  “No, I love a little danger,” he said. “I hear you need a ride. I might be able to help you with that. Where you headed?”

  “Altia.”

  “That far?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Is your vessel too small to make the journey?”

  He cracked a smile, and dimples puckered both cheeks. “Oh, my lovely, my vessel is just the right size, of that I can assure you.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Rhis said, keeping her face neutral.

  “Cargo?” he asked.

  “Just passengers. Two.”

  “And you’re coming to me because you’d like to get to the capital without any prying eyes or unwanted questions,” he said.

  “Something like that.”

  “Hmm,” he said, reaching up to scratch his chin. “Risky.”

  “I can make it worth your while.”

  He grinned again. “I’m sure you can. But Altia is a long way and I wasn’t planning on traveling that far this time of year. To make a special trip, well, that’s going to cost you.”