King Of The North (Book 3) (16 page)

"Ah, Prince Eamon," the man said in a raspy, whispery voice. "I have been expecting you all. Please, go inside and make yourselves at home. You are safe now. And allow me introduce myself. I am Traegus the Wise, Archlich of Eirenoch."

Chapter Twelve

Garret moved like a shadow across the rooftops in Thyre. He made not a sound as he tracked his target below, and even the Jindala guards who were posted on the roofs were unaware of his presence.

The Great Mother had given Garret the gift of heat vision. With it, he could easily keep track of Tregar, the Prince of Thyre, as the man kept to the dark alleyways. His heat signature was easy to follow through the starless night.

He had followed Tregar for several hours, tracking his movements through the shadier areas of town. Garret noted how the man interacted with various people on the street: silent gestures, the exchange of notes, and his demeanor in general. It was obvious that he had underground connections, and that he had some authority there.

After several more minutes of following Tregar, the Prince stopped in front of several men who had gathered in a small courtyard in the center of a group of buildings. It appeared to be a meeting place for unsavory characters, as it was strewn with trash and was in general disarray. Tregar lowered his hood, and the men greeted him with bows of loyalty. The men were probably Thyre guards who remained loyal to their Prince, and had turned against the King and his Jindala occupiers.

Seeing the opportunity to make himself known, Garret crept to the edge of the roof, and dropped down several yards behind the Prince. Though the men seemed mildly startled, the Prince's indifference told Garret that the man knew he had been followed. Tregar slowly turned, his face blank.

"Who are you?" he asked gravely. "Why have you been following me?"

Tregar was a young man, no more than thirty, yet his eyes were filled with the wisdom and honor of someone much older. This was a man who was loyal to his people, and sick of the scum that had overrun his cities.

"My name is Garret," the assassin spoke. "And I am aware of your plight."

"And of what plight do you speak, Garret?" Tregar asked.

Garret casually strolled forward, clasping his hands behind his back. "You have plans, and someone stands in your way."

Tregar narrowed his eyes. "I'm listening."

"My...employer wishes to see you sit on the throne," Garret said. "She knows that your people will not rebel against the Jindala while King Adolus still reigns."

"Go on."

"I am here to end his reign, and clear the way for you to lead your men to rebellion."

Tregar sighed. "This is a difficult matter," he said. "I am sure you can imagine my turmoil. Though Adolus is a tyrant and is in league with the Jindala, he is still my father."

"I understand," Garret said. "But many a great man in history has set aside his feelings to do what is best for his people. This is the only way to free Thyre, and allow your soldiers to join the battle against The Lifegiver."

Tregar nodded. "Then you will do the deed?" he asked.

"That is why I am here."

"Very well," Tregar agreed. "But, if you will, do not allow him to suffer. His sanity is questionable, and I cannot hold the man I once loved as a father responsible for the tragedies that have occurred here."

"Have your men stand ready in the town square," Garret said. "When the time is right, I will signal you from the tower that overlooks it."

Tregar turned to his men, who shrugged and offered no suggestions. He turned back to Garret to ask for clarification.

But Garret was gone.

Tregar looked around, scanning the shadows and the rooftops. He saw no sign of the mysterious
stranger.

"Did that just happen?" one of his men asked.

"I was looking right at him," another said. "I only looked away for a second."

Tregar grinned, chuckling silently to himself. "Impressive," he mumbled under his breath.

"You heard the man," Tregar said, turning back to his men. "Assemble the warriors in the town square. Keep out of sight or be inconspicuous. Do not act until this signal appears. I am quite sure it will be obvious."

Garret watched from behind a nearby chimney, smiling as he heard the conversation. They were in. That was good. He would have to make sure they knew the signal when they saw it. It would have to be something rather dramatic.

He could do dramatic.

King Adolus noisily chewed the giant turkey leg that was only a small part of the meal set before him. His Jindala ambassador, Mahan, watched him with a disgusted look, looking away every time the King’s mouth opened. Adolus enjoyed tormenting the man with his behavior. The Jindala had no love for sloppy eating, especially the eating of meat that wasn't properly blessed before slaughter. Adolus had wrung the turkey's neck himself, pulling its head off and handing the bird to his chef personally.

Utterly disgusting, Mahan thought.

"So," Adolus said through a mouthful of meat. "When do these Enkhatar of yours arrive at Eirenoch?"

Mahan rubbed his eyes, keeping his gaze deflected from the King’s grease covered face. "They arrived several days ago," he said. "Along with the darkling."

"Ah! Are they in position?"

"Not to my knowledge, Adolus," Mahan replied. "When they are in their places, and the Devourer arrives, the Withering will begin."

Adolus laughed out loud, bits of turkey splattering on the table before him. "The Devourer!" he exclaimed. "What a weapon."

"Yes, it is. But not easy to control. That is why it was let loose on the island. If it had been used on the mainland, it would destroy everything in sight. The kingdom of Eirenoch is of no consequence. The Lifegiver has long since given up bringing the people to their knees. Now, he just wants it destroyed."

"And what part does The Prophet play in this?" Adolus asked, his mouth finally empty.

"She remains to oversee the coronation of Prince Eogan. Nothing more. When that occurs, she will return."

Adolus laughed again. "No," he growled. "No she won't. Ha!"

"What do you mean?"

"I hear she plans to sit on the throne herself, being the Queen of her own Grandson. I know she is the former Queen of Eirenoch. I'm not stupid, you know. This mind of mine is still sharp. Make no mistake."

"I do not believe that
The Prophet would turn against The Lifegiver," Mahan said. "His gifts are plentiful, and his wrath is great."

"She is a woman of Eirenoch," Adolus insisted. "And she wants her kingdom back. Besides, a woman who turns against her own people cannot be trusted by anyone."

Mahan smirked. "Much like you," he said, flatly.

Adolus stared intently at the man, the fire in his eyes staying steady, but fierce. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "Yes," he said. "I am not to be trusted either."

Mahan stood, keeping his eyes on the King as he rose. "I am returning to my chambers," he said. "I need some time to breathe the night air. The tower is perfect for my sanity."

"As it was for me," Adolus agreed. "When it was mine."

Garret pulled himself up onto the top of the castle's lowest tower. From here, he could see into the open doors of Adolus' private dining chamber. The King had been enjoying his dinner while conversing with a man who was obviously a Jindala noble. The discussion had ended with a stern look from the King, at which point Garret saw the man stand and leave.

The King had returned to his feast, completely unaware of the man in black who now crouched in the shadows watching him. Garret regarded the man with scrutiny. Such a pig, he seemed. Stuffing his face carelessly with little regard for his guest. Garret had to admit, he liked Adolus. It would be a shame to kill him.

Setting those thoughts aside, Garret scanned the far wall for a proper place to throw his grappling hook. If he aimed too close to the railing beyond the doors, the King would be alerted to his presence. He would have to try and hook it farther to the side and climb over to the railing.

No problem.

Garret held out his right hand, turning the palm upward. From his gauntlet, an ethereal hook appeared, gleaming in the moonlight like a magic gem. He held the hook like a dart, aiming carefully at a spot to the right and just above the railing of the balcony. He crossed the fingers of his left hand, drew back, and threw.

The hook shot across the gap and imbedded itself right in the stone. A nearly invisible black cord trailed behind it, all the way to Garret's wrist. Following his instincts, he pressed his palm onto the battlement in front of him, and the cord separated itself from his gauntlet and melded with the stone.

"Interesting," he whispered.

Taking a few quick breaths and rubbing his hands together, Garret vaulted the battlement and caught hold of the line. He swung his legs up and hooked his feet around it, and prepared to pull himself across. He had the sudden feeling that he had been in exactly this same position recently, with results that were less than desirable. Laughing the thought away, he began, hand over hand. He slid across quite quickly, noting how little the rope bit into his hands.

At the halfway point, Garret heard voices below. Several Jindala guards were passing through the gap between the two towers. He paused, remaining as still as possible as they went by. When they were gone, he let out his breath and continued on.

He began pulling himself upward as he neared the opposite wall. The grappling hook had imbedded itself about six feet to the right and above the dining room's balcony. The height and distance was perfect for a short vault over to the railing, provided Garret could give himself enough momentum to make the distance.

When he reached the end, he let loose with his feet and dangled free. He looked down briefly, seeing the absolutely impossible distance between himself and the ground, and sighed. He lifted his legs, then slung them back, building enough momentum to make a leap to the railing. At the end of his last swing, he let go, sailing the short distance in a perfect, graceful arc. He landed squarely on the railing without a sound, balancing himself with a hand to the wall beside him. Within seconds of his landing, the grappling hook faded from existence and reappeared at his wrist. He chuckled at the convenience of such magical equipment, and the success of his landing. He had made it without alerting anyone to his presence.

Or so he thought.

As he gently hopped down onto the balcony and peeked into the dining hall, he saw the King sitting motionless, calmly staring straight at him. He straightened quickly, his heart pounding as he realized he had been seen. The King was fully aware of him, yet did not seem concerned. He was puzzled. Taking a deep breath, he casually strolled into the dining room, stopping to lean against the door frame.

"Hello," Adolus said, still unmoving and unconcerned.

"Well met, King Adolus," Garret replied.

"What can I do for you, sir?" the King asked.

"You're awfully calm," Garret said. "Especially for a man in the presence of an assassin."

The King chuckled, going back to his meal. Through a mouthful of food, he continued the conversation. "I commune with The Lifegiver," he said. "I am fully aware of everything that happens in my kingdom. And I have been aware of your presence since you arrived."

Garret nodded, folding his arms across the small of his back. He strolled further into the room, admiring the decorative pieces that adorned the walls.

"Tell me," Adolus said. "How did you get up here? I didn't hear anything. No grappling hooks, no steel claws scraping against the stone..."

Garret held up his wrist, showing Adolus the magical device. "Courtesy of the Great Mother."

"Impressive," Adolus said. "But, no matter. I'm more interested in how you plan on killing me."

"I suppose I can do it quickly," Garret said. "Or dramatically, however you wish."

Adolus took another bite of his turkey, sipped his wine, and wiped his mouth with a silk napkin. "May I ask two things of you?"

Garret nodded. "Of course."

"Please tell my son that I love him, and that I am sorry for what I have become."

"He knows," Garret replied. "And I know he loves you, as well. That is why he has not come here himself."

Adolus nodded, standing.

"What else would you ask?" Garret inquired.

"When you are finished with me," Adolus began. "Please kill Mahan. I hate him."

Garret smiled. "As you wish."

The King stepped around the dining table to where his assassin awaited. He looked Garret in the eyes as he knelt before him, then lowered his head. Garret stepped in behind him, drawing his dagger.

"I would prefer to keep my head," Adolus remarked.

"I am an assassin," Garret said. "Not an executioner. Clean and quick is my method. Always."

"Tregar will be a good King," Adolus said. "The people trust him, and he hates the Jindala even more than I do."

"You have my respect, sir," Garret replied, quickly thrusting his dagger into the base of Adolus' skull, severing his spine. The King collapsed quietly, killed instantly by the quick strike. Garret sheathed his dagger and bowed respectfully.