Fate Rides Wicked: Volume I of the Lerilon Trilogy (46 page)

The human jumped as a voice said, “You soon will be.”
He spun to find Lazol standing two feet away, but could
say nothing before he died. Nobody would be able to
recognize him later. With a leap in the air, two forangen
died at Lazol’s feet. Arif quickly dispatched another and
Ofeldar and Aquendar took out two more. With a sweep of
his five-foot blade, the horse master left only one. It
quivered in fear for a moment then sprinted towards the
forest. It had some distance and made it to the trees before
they could react. Arif and Ofeldar stepped forward and had
bolts flying as it gained the bushes. The missiles hit within
an inch of each other in the creature’s heart.

“Outnumbered two to one and victorious in less than a
minute. This could be a very effective partnership. But,”
added Arif, “we need to get you two some smaller
weapons. Rooftops can be tight fits.”

“That is what we wanted your help for. We need the
right armor, swords and bows to stop assassination.”

Lazol laughed. “So, that is what we will be doing. It
figures we’d be following the same path that has led to
death for so many of the Road Police.”

“The difference is there are four of us, and we’re the
best. We’ve been through every kingdom and against
every evil, including the Passage of Death. We have no
choice but to be victorious,” said Ofeldar.

Arif took off her hood. “Don’t get me wrong, I too feel
we will not follow the fate of our comrades. We had best
get started.”

Aquendar nodded. “The Murlan army marches in a
week and it’s a two week ride to the capital by
conventional means.” Without another word, they
followed Aquendar back to the inn.

In the first town the four new companions came to they
purchased equipment for Ofeldar and Aquendar. Here they
also learned that the marching of the army would be
delayed for one week, allowing them to arrive on time. All
the way to the town the two newest members taught them
skills in stealth and quick finishes to combat. Warriors
often survived on the ability to outlast an equally heavily
armored opponent, but in leather armor it became more
important to be able to get in the first blow or spend more
time dancing around an adversary for the right opportunity.

After leaving the town where they obtained the new
weaponry and armor, they learned how to perform thief’s
tasks like picking locks and slipping through tight spaces.
They also worked on moving around in the dark, resulting
in bruises for Ofeldar and Aquendar on faces and hands.
They bundled up against the cold air as the clear skies
remained until they neared Murlanak. By that time they
each had picked code names.

The lead rider looked up as the first flake landed on her
nose. One of her companions cursed. “Now we’ll have to
act extra fast. This snow will cover tracks and we could
lose our prey before we can trap them.”

“We have to wait for the army to pass so we can enter
the town without very many soldiers seeing us. Besides,
the king is safe until the army leaves and it will be gone
before dawn.” She peered through the trees at the steadily
moving column. “I just wish His Majesty had chosen to
march with his army rather than ride up in the spring. Now
we have to spend the entire winter riding all over this
kingdom.”

“Shhh, I hear something.”

The other three turned. The lead rider whispered,
“What is it, Glass Spider?”

Arif listened in silence for a moment. They all heard
the crackle of a fire and low voices. Glass Spider lifted her
head. “A small camp is awakening nearby, Lioness.”

Lioness, also known as Ofeldar, signaled for everyone
to dismount as she did so. They tied up their horses and
Glass Spider took the lead. Swiftly and silently they
moved towards the sound. A few minutes later they could
hear voices more clearly. They paused and listened. A
gruff voice cursed. “Damn this snow. It chills the bone.”

A calmer voice reached them. “It will cover our tracks.
The army leaves today and we can move through the city
easier. They won’t be able to track us after Vrekian is
dead. We will serve the Grand Master much better than
that sorcerer. The sword is always truer than a spell.”

The four riders now crouched outside the clearing
where two men in leather armor warmed meat over a fire.
The Lioness waved for the Glass Spider and Flashpoint to
circle around the clearing to the other side. She whispered
in the ear of the Zebra, Aquendar.

After of few minutes of silence, the large, bearded,
gruff-voiced man spoke. “Let’s go over the plan again. I
don’t want any mistakes.”

Before the other, clean-shaven man could respond,
Zebra called out, “Yes, we’d like to hear this great plan.”
Both men by the fire leaped up, swords in hand. Zebra and
Lioness stepped into the clearing with crossbows ready.
“Even though you’ll never be able to execute it.”

The obvious leader, the smaller man, smiled. “Who are
you? More Road Police. I thought after I killed the other
six, you would have given up by now. One of us will get to
the king. I guarantee it.”

Glass Spider and Flashpoint had come up behind the
two men. Slowly they brought daggers to the throats of the
assassins. Together they said, “Drop your weapons or lose
your heads.” Both swords fell to the ground. The couple
bent to pick up the swords and, as expected, the killers
went for, and drew, daggers. Both assassins fell backwards
over Arif and Lazol, Glass Spider and Flashpoint, with
bolts in the necks from Ofeldar and Aquendar. The would
be assassins writhed and held their necks, then twitched one
final time.

The few flakes making it through the forest ceiling
went unnoticed. Ofeldar could tell the frequency increased
as the seconds went by. As she kicked dirt and snow on the
fire she said, “This will be a storm by zenith.”

Arif brushed off her cloak. “Yes, so let’s find an inn
which will allow us to start our work.” Lazol shook his
clothing clean and agreed. They made their way back to
the horses.

They made themselves evident to the last of the army as
they rode out onto the road. As Ofeldar had anticipated,
two soldiers slipped out of line in the heavy snowfall and
entered the forest. They would fall on their cohort’s
swords as they tripped over the rope at the edge of the
clearing. Most of the sun cleared the horizon. Murlanak
could be seen a half hour away.

“A woman that says she is the Lioness wishes to see
you, Your Majesty.”

The king’s eyes widened. He didn’t have any spies
with that code name to his knowledge. His interest forced
him to let her in. When Ofeldar walked in, he understood.
He stood and approached her. “How may I help you,
Lioness?” Ofeldar pointed behind the king. His jaw
dropped as two men and a woman stood just behind the
throne, armed to the teeth. He whirled to face the beautiful
scout. “Is this some kind of bad joke?”

“Just a warning, Your Majesty. We serve your best
interests.” She turned and left without another word. The
king turned to watch the other three leave, but they had
vanished already. From then on, two to four guards always
stood near the King of Murlan.

The always-wary patrons of the bar took note of the
swords under the cloaks of the strangers. They also noted
two men and two women with crossbows. Then they went
back to their drinks as a topless woman went to serve the
newcomers. As was customary, all four of the travelers
placed their weapons on their laps, within ready reach.

Arif used her uncanny hearing ability to listen to even
the slightest whispers on the other side of the bar. None of
the conversations involved Vrekian, but several mentioned
the Lioness. She leaned forward. “The Lioness is already
well known, but nobody can describe her. Her presence,
they are aware of. How she looks, they do not know.” The
others, as ordered, did not immediately react.

Ofeldar spoke a little louder than Arif. “I would know
her purpose in warning the king of his danger. We might
fail now.” In silence they finished their drinks and went
upstairs to their room. “If the intelligence you gathered is
correct, Glass Spider, we should have visitors in a minute.”

As predicted, a storm now raged outside, blowing snow
so fast that it limited vision to ten feet. The four pulled
warm white leggings, tunics and hoods over their armor.
While the other three put on their gloves, Ofeldar took out a
rope with a three-pronged, claw-like hook on one end. Arif
signaled she heard footsteps on the stairs and Lioness set
down the rope. The scout positioned herself behind the
bed, crossbow aimed at the door and ready. The two men
set up on the side the door opened on, swords ready, while
Arif would be hidden when they entered.

A sudden explosion of wood splinters forced them all to
cover their eyes. When they opened them they couldn’t see
from the smoke in the room. The three by the door heard a
muffled cry and then the men heard another. Seconds later,
a breeze blew through the room and the picture revealed
itself. The door lay shattered on the floor. Ofeldar and
Arif stood near their positions, each with men dressed in
black behind them, daggers to the throat of the women.

Aquendar and Lazol obliged, but stood wary. “Now
stand over there by the window.”

The two men began to walk across the room. On a
signal with Arif, the women wriggled long enough to place
an elbow into her captor’s stomach. Lazol stood closer to
Ofeldar, and her attacker died in half a second as
Flashpoint took the opportunity. Arif’s attacker only
staggered under a blow to the face, but fell away from his
prey. Glass Spider jumped to the bed and spun as
Aquendar landed a second punch in the assassin’s face.
The opponent swung his dagger, but Aquendar caught the
arm and broke it back at the elbow. With a scream of
agony, the dagger fell and the killer crumpled to the floor,
his arm limp at his side.

The horse master scooped him up by his collar and
shoved him against the wall. “Whom do you work for?”

“Go to the seventh layer of hell, you piece of forangen
droppings.” Aquendar grabbed the limp arm and slammed
it against the wall, bringing another scream. “You can’t
make me talk!”

“Maybe a second shattered arm will do it.” The huge
man reached for the assassin’s left arm.

“I don’t know. I got a note that a bag of gold would be
dropped at a certain location if I killed the king. I assumed
it was from the guild because it was written in blood. I
obviously never succeeded.”

“Where is the drop location?”

With a flurry, the man kicked out and charged the
window. Before anybody could react, he dove out of the
room. He fell three stories down and they could see his
body lying in the snow, the black surrounded by red. Lazol
took the other assassin’s sword and carried it to the
window. Turning it point down, he dropped it into the man
below. A scream told them the blood had been a ruse, but
he now traveled to the seventh hell.

While Aquendar hooked the claw on the roof above,
Ofeldar placed a piece of parchment with a lion’s paw on
the dead man on the floor. Before the city guard could
arrive in the poor quarter, the four protectors slipped out
the window and onto the rooftops, the thief’s highway.
Hidden by their white clothing, they used their spiked boots
to travel quickly towards another bar, and another piece of
intelligence.

Only two bars in Murlanak possessed the qualities that
attracted assassins and thieves: no questions asked and in a
part of town no soldiers visited. This second one bore
resemblance to the bar visited earlier that night, but the
patrons wasted less time looking at the leather-armored
fighters when they stomped their boots and shook off their
saddlebags. Right away, Ofeldar could tell the questions
asked here were few.

One man stood as they sat down on the stools, back to
the tables. With one swift motion a dagger landed between
the four, passing by Ofeldar’s shoulder. “We don’t like
your kind in here.”

Calmly, Aquendar turned on his stool and looked at the
cloaked man. “It looks like it takes all kinds.”

“Leave, now.” He raised another dagger above his
head.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid we can’t do that. You see, we have
as much right to be here as you do, assassin,” answered
Lazol.

“I will give you to the count of five and then one of you
dies.” They waited as he counted.

Just before he said five, another patron stood. “Leave
them alone, you brigand.”

The assassin spun and threw, landing the dagger in the
patron’s throat. Before he could refocus on the four,
Lazol’s foot landed in his face. The killer lifted into the air
and slid across his table. He came up from behind it,
holding his sword in one hand and his nose with the other.
Blood dripped through his fingers to the floor. Shaking his
head as if to clear it, he looked at the four figures on the
other side of the table.

Realizing his predicament, the assassin scooped up the
scrolls in front of him and started towards the door at a run.
One of the friends of the person the assassin killed flipped
up his table into the fleeing man. He went down in a
crumple and didn’t move. At first he seemed to be holding
himself up by his hands, but then his sword point appeared
from his back and he fell to the floor. Arif quickly picked
up the scrolls and flipped a gold coin to the man that turned
over the table. Ofeldar put away her crossbow.

They brought the parchment back to the assassin’s table
and spread it out. All but one confirmed the death of other
killers, presumably to let him know who remained. The
last one contained his instructions to kill the king before
spring. The Grand Master Assassin had signed it himself,
but something about it didn’t sit well with the four.