Vaughn Heppner - Assassin of the Damned

Through the stink of my cooked flesh, I dragged myself at Erasmo. Agony lanced my scorched forearms. It throbbed upon my face. I could only see out the right side. The left must have melted into something hideous.

Erasmo raised a bloody hand as his features contorted with hatred. He spoke with painful wheezes, so I know my cut had hurt him.

“You spoke about my father. He begged me to stop. And once he realized I despised his advice, he tried to free the plague before I could drag it to our Earth. The plague was in a lead casket, a forgotten doom, I suppose. It had never been used on this wretched Earth. We had gone through Hell to find it and had slain an ancient guardian to make it ours-mine! But I didn’t need him anymore. He’d served his purpose. So I killed him, staked him in the sand as a marker and created a spell to blow off whatever drifted onto him. Do you know why I refused his cries of mercy?”

“Come whisper it in my ear,” I said.

“He made me accept your apology after you’d maimed me with your axe. He shouldn’t have done that, Gian.”

I’d never reach him. So I raised myself from the floor, picked up a stone and heaved. He grunted, and staggered against the wall. I’d aimed at his head but hit his chest. Only having a single eye had marred my accuracy.

He raised a hand and panted a chant. I groped for another stone. The cave shook as I grasped it, and the cave above me collapsed. With a horrible shushing sound, tons of sand poured down. Like a giant fist, it smashed, pinned and then buried me alive.

Only vaguely, did I hear Erasmo or even understand. It came as if from far away.

“Burning to death is agony. But for you, Gian, lingering in deathlessness buried alive is worse.” He might have stamped upon my tomb. “Think on that, assassin.”

***

I struggled for mastery of my terrorized emotions. My flesh throbbed with searing hurt, and my worst fear had arrived. I think I screamed. Sand filled my mouth. Sand surrounded me. I could not move.

In the blackness, in my tome, the fiery pain eventually dwindled to gray agony. I had no idea the length of time that took. I was alone, trapped beyond anyone’s help. I wanted to weep. Erasmo surely hurried to the door to Earth. He would shut it, lock it and resume being me as a Lord of Night. I’d miserably failed. The Moon Lady’s assassin, the killer in the dark, the famed Darkling-it was a moronic jest.

I tried to thrash. It was impossible. There was no air to scream. I was as good as a corpse, and on a dead world. I should have struck first, not talked. I’d tried to be clever. Successful assassins were ruthless. I’d acted more like a knight, a prince.

With a wrench of will, I shook out those thoughts. I had to act. Act? What could I do?

With all my strength, I tried to heave upward. Blackness threatened my coherence. I relaxed as much as a man could with horrible burns. Was this it then?

I tried to wriggle my fingers. One moved! Hideous excitement almost overcame me. Concentrating, it was terribly difficult, I began to dig with a slow rotation of my hands. Torments threatened my thoughts. They came as fears, pain and a mindless yammering that almost destroyed my focus. Digging was tediously slow. So would be a recounting of it. Eventually, like a grave worm, I slithered out of the sand and into the trembling cave.

It reminded me that outside striking comets blew sand everywhere. I cackled laughter, and spat out dirt. Did I really think I could find Erasmo’s tracks? And what did it matter if I could? I might have traded my soul to the Moon Lady if she could have helped me then. I didn’t want to die on a strange Earth, a dead world waiting for its final destruction. I was an alien here. If I died, would I go to its Hell or Heaven?

Died! I cackled more mad laughter. Then I snapped my mouth shut.

“Crawl, Gian. Keep fighting.”

I wanted to hoot derision at myself. Instead, I dragged my battered torso toward the cave entrance. During the journey, I discovered that my left eye had indeed burned out. I refused to touch my face after that and learn the full extent of the burns. My forearms looked hideous enough.

The cave threatened to collapse each time a comet hit. Erasmo must have weakened it when he’d sent all the sand on me. Finally, however, I emerged into the moonlight. If it had been day, I knew I’d have been dead.

Unfortunately, this world’s moon lacked the same recuperative powers of mine. Had there ever been a Moon Lady on this Earth? Still, there must have been something. I gained a perceptible amount of strength and greater clarity of thought.

I used a boulder and dragged myself to my feet. I felt like a reed in a storm, and I began to lurch, dragging my gamey leg, the one shot in the thigh by a crossbow bolt.

The climb upslope was an epic struggle. The salty desert with Erasmo’s outline tracks caused me to sink to my knees. I shuffled forward like that, tried to climb to my feet and found myself sprawled on my belly. I crawled and comets blazed overhead. Hot air shrieked and made my burns relive their agony. It was then I realized this was Hell. Erasmo had lied. Lorelei had lied. Others Earths-they’d thought me a fool. Everyone has sought to use me. I roared curses. I raved and slammed my fists in the sand. The ground trembled, and it was only by degrees that I realized a comet had done that. As hot air shrieked its mockery, I fought to my feet. I swayed, and before I fell, I lurched in the direction of the tracks.

Time blurred and the comets seemed like demons howling at my stupidity. Somehow, I would get even.

I stopped and blinked gritty eyeballs. The tracks had disappeared. There was just shifting sand. It was time to hurl my coin as faraway as I could. Maybe my soul would find its way back. But for me-

A last rational part wondered if I’d passed the door. With agonizing slowness, I turned and shuffled back, following my tracks. I examined the ground like a lover memorizing a maiden’s face. The ground trembled. I swayed, and then I saw it: a faint paw print.

Oh, you clever schemer . Erasmo must have removed the spell from his father’s corpse.

I looked around, saw nothing new but refused to panic. I needed wits, strength and the luck of the damned, whatever that was. I pitched down my pouch of throwing stones. Then I shuffled around it in a widening circle. After the third circuit, I noticed a hump of sand. I thumped to my knees and dug, and I found Erasmo’s father.

I waited until a comet blazed and I saw the haze of the door. I laughed. It was a crazed thing. Maybe Erasmo had set a trap in our Earth. Maybe he had locked the door. I crawled on my knees to the hazy image. What would happen if he’d locked it? Did it matter? I struggled to my feet, staggered and hurled myself through.

There was an awful moment of stretching, as if a judge had chained my ankles and wrists to separate teams of horses, and the horses stained to tear me in two. I writhed in agony. Then my head struck wood. That deflected me. I struck something else, staggered and pitched onto my face in dreadful blackness.

I groaned. Erasmo had laid a trap. He was a sorcerer, a tricky card player. Here is the king of diamonds. Now it’s the queen of hearts. Here is the door to Earth. Now it’s the door to a dark prison. He had outthought me at every turn. He-

I heard something stir. With my charred fingers, I groped for my deathblade. It was almost pathetic how hard I clung to life. Was a beast in my cell here with me?

Hellish red light appeared. I snarled and tried to lift myself off the floor.

“Darkling!”

I blinked my good eye, confused. Images blurred before me.

“By the moon, you’re burned.”