Vaughn Heppner - Assassin of the Damned

We stood under a tree outside the camp and near the swamp. He held the clothes I needed. So I realized he wished to be reassured. He had told me last night that he paid his debts. This was my payment for scouting for him yesterday.

“The one you call the sorceress holds possessions of mine,” I said.

“She has heard about your fighting with us last night.” Da Canale glanced around and lowered his voice. “She knows I spoke to you at the mantelets. She summoned me this afternoon and questioned me concerning our talk. I told her you warned us about the attack. She called for Signor Hawkwood and told him about the seriousness of capturing you. She claimed you serve a goddess of Darkness. She promised me double the former reward for your capture. And she began to threaten me with the stake if I held back needed information. Fortunately, Signor Hawkwood cleared his throat. That stopped the witch from finishing her threats.”

Da Canale gave me a searching look.

“I am Gian Baglioni of Perugia.”

“She said Gian died.”

I slapped my chest. “The dead don’t do that.”

He nodded, but he still appeared troubled.

“The Lord of Night destroyed my city,” I said. “He stole my wife and I know he holds my daughter.”

“You swear this is true, signor?”

“I swear it on my honor.” I lowered my voice. “You realize I have gained abilities. I do not deny this. I have become a prince of Shadows. Now I need the tools your sorceress keeps. I need them so I may slip unawares into the Tower of the East and slay its grim lord.”

Da Canale nodded thoughtfully.

“Do you think this army can drive through the swamp and reach its shores? Do you think it can storm the hundred foot walls that surround the Tower of the East?”

“We are doomed,” Da Canale said. “Last night showed us that. We were lucky to have survived. We faced a pittance of the Lord of Night’s hosts. If we flee, however, we are also doomed, as he will hunt us down. The Lord of Night is revengeful above all else.”

“You’re a man of the world, signor. You realize that sometimes a knife can accomplish what a dozen swords cannot.”

“That is true.” Da Canale shoved the bag of clothes and weapons toward me. “You are our last hope, signor. But if you are caught….”

“I am a prince of Shadows.”

“Listen, signor, and I shall explain the camp’s layout.”

I took the bag of clothes, the sword and boots. I listened. Then I shook Carlo da Canale’s hand and faded into the night. I watched him hurry back to the camp, and I dearly hoped he had spoken the truth.

***

An hour later, I spied the camp from a ditch.

Guards marched past. After they turned a tented corner, I scrambled to my feet.

I wore mercenary garb now, soft leather breeches, a dark shirt, a silk cape and hat. Along with my knife, I bore a slim sword. I had bathed. My Darkling garments and boots were stashed in a sealskin bag in the swamp.

I desired to speak with the priestess of the Moon. It was one thing for da Canale to realize this army’s plight, but why hadn’t the priestess insisted on a siege train? I’d thought to find rafts, moveable towers, catapults and maybe one of those newer cannons here. Did an admiral wait for the army to reach the inner edge of the swamp before he brought in his galleys? If so, I needed to know.

I marched down a lane past a creaking wagon and its driver. Fortune favored the bold. Tonight I would be brazen, even though I realized the priestess had many searching for me.

In this sprawling camp, despite the countless cries of pain and the bitter debates, soldiers diced, drank and snored. They sharpened weapons, repaired armor and tumbled with whores. Lantern oil and smoky torches, cooked meats and horse-piss smells mingled with leathery odors and too much spilled blood. It produced the unique stench of a military camp. Dogs growled. Others wagged their tails. Squires ran errands. Women screamed in rage, in pleasure, in pain and wept over the dying.

The foot patrols among the tented lanes grew more frequent. Then I saw Ofelia. She had six burly men-at-arms behind her. She held a pendant in her hands, and she concentrated upon it. She stopped suddenly. She looked up and peered in my direction.

I’d stepped into a tent as a precaution.

She looked at the pendent in her hand, peered hard. Then she spoke fast to the six burly men. They drew swords and stalked toward my tent.

I slipped out the back. The priestess used magic to try to locate me. This would make things harder. I had no choice. I’d seen the Tower of the East’s walls. I needed Darkling tools.

I hurried, and I soon spied the priestess’ silver tents behind a wooden palisade. Vigilant crossbowmen patrolled the walkways. Guards with nets and halberds stood at the gate.

I made a wide circuit to try to throw off Ofelia. Then I ducked behind some tents and approached from a different direction. I waited and timed the crossbowmen’s circuit. Then I strolled behind a tent pitched beside the palisade. I pretended to make water, glanced both ways and leaped. I clutched the top of the palisade, swung up and over and landed inside the priestess’ defenses.

In an easy stride, I moved behind a tent. It was more orderly here, the talk subdued. There was a lack of dice games or ladies of the evening. Then I saw a maenad-a maiden in a silver gown-rush out a tent and hurry toward the main gate.

I listened keenly for an outcry. I had little time. I worked near the middle tent, unbuckled the sword and coin pouch and rid myself of the cap and cape. I knelt and wriggled under the tent.

It took a glance to orient myself. The priestess stirred on a cot. She had furs for blankets and several silk pillows. I spied many chests. Some looked like pay chests. Others surely held magical paraphernalia. A goblet half-filled with wine stood on a small table. The plate held greasy chicken bones.

I crawled to her cot, rose to my knees and looked down. She was beautiful, with regular skin, not silver. The small chin made her seem elfin like Lorelei. They could have been sisters. Her eyes snapped open. She opened her mouth. I suppose to scream. I pressed a hand over her mouth. It put lines in her forehead. She became stiff.

“I’m here to talk,” I said.

She nodded fast.

I drew my knife, the evil blade. I touched it to her cheek.

“Let’s be clear on a few matters,” I said. “I want answers. You want to live. I’ll let you live if you answer my questions. Does that sound fair?”

She nodded again, just as fast. I didn’t trust that speed.

I tapped the blade twice against her fair cheek. “A cut from this knife-”

“Hmmm, hmmm,” she tried to say.

“Scream and I’ll cut you,” I said. I took away my hand.

She drew a deep breath. She worked her mouth. “Can I sit up?” she asked.

“No. Lie as you are.”

“Is this a rape?”

“You need to listen,” I said.

“Don’t get angry.”

“No! Answer my questions. Don’t seek to give me commands.”

I think she longed for light. Her tent walls were thick, or there was magic at work. The sounds of camp were muted here. Little light penetrated, although enough for me.

“I’m surprised you made it this far,” she said.

“I am the Darkling.”

She scowled. It marred her beauty. Then her features smoothed out. I think she remembered I could see in the dark.

“This army can never break into the Tower of the East,” I said.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Ask,” I said.

“Can you remove the knife?”

“First give me answers.”

“Ones that you like or the truth?”

“For a naked woman with an evil knife resting upon her face you have a lot of daring.”