Knight's Shadow (40 page)

‘Protect the—’ shouted one of the guards between us and the Duke, and when I turned I saw that he’d had time to draw his weapon and was bringing it into guard just as the Dashini, tumbling back towards the ground with his knees bent, crashed into the man’s chest.

The guard fell backwards, collapsing into one of his fellows and knocking him down, but before Kest and I could reach him, the Dashini had used the fallen guard as a platform from which to leap off and this time the light of one of the braziers glinted against steel: the Dashini had the guard’s sword in his hand.

The two men holding Jillard’s canvas stretcher wisely let it fall to the ground, and the Duke along with it. One tried to get to his sword; the other just crossed his arms in front of his face to protect himself – but funnily enough, neither tactic worked. Both were brought down by a single stroke that took off one man’s hands and the other man’s head.

Less than seven seconds had passed since I had shouted
Dashi—
and the assassin was now standing over Duke Jillard’s helpless body, his appropriated sword coming down for a single, perfect thrust.

The assassin had not just escaped his cell but had watched from the shadows as he devised a complex sequence of movements that none of us would have time to defeat. He had accounted for the narrow walls of the passageway and the dozen guards. He’d factored in my reflexes and Kest’s speed. He’d planned for every opponent.

Except one.

Ugh had been standing next to the Duke, but unlike the rest of us he didn’t try to draw a weapon or protect himself or get out of the way. As the sword meant to take Jillard’s life began its downwards plunge, Ugh smashed into the Dashini with the full weight of his body. Any sane man would have tried to disarm his opponent or strike him down, but no one had ever accused the erstwhile torturer-turned-Greatcoat of being sane. Ugh brought his arms around the Dashini and held him.

My rapier was in my hand, but the other guards were too busy getting in our way, trying to create a barrier between the assassin and his intended victim. At first the Dashini tried to ignore Ugh and reach past him with the sword to slit Jillard’s neck, but Ugh got him trapped against the rough wall of the passageway. As I pushed past one of the guards in my way I saw a brief flicker in the Dashini’s eyes. It wasn’t anger or frustration or even fear; I was pretty sure it was regret – a kind of apology, maybe – as he brought his arms up high and then immediately down again. His elbows struck Ugh’s neck on either side. The Dashini’s eyes went briefly to the Duke, but not even the world’s best assassin could get to him now, not with every remaining guard standing over him. And Kest and I were nearly in range. As Ugh’s heavy body began to sag to the ground, the Dashini pushed him into the human barrier, then, ducking low, shimmied under the wild slash of a guard’s blade.

He sprinted past the guards, past Tommer on his stretcher, past Valiana’s cell, to the other end of the passageway that would lead him to the stairs and out of the dungeon. I shouted, ‘Stop!’ still trying in vain to get past the damned guards who were so determined to form a wall around the Duke that they were making it completely impossible for Kest and me to reach the assassin.

To my immense surprise, the Dashini did stop. He turned to us and said, ‘I have failed, and we are lost. Come for me, Falcio val Mond, if you would know the answers to your questions, and learn just how empty the world has become.’ He turned back and disappeared silently into the next passageway.

‘Guards!’ Shiballe screamed from where he was crouched against the wall. ‘Capture that man!’

Three of them ran after the assassin, leaving the others to protect the Duke, but they had no chance. Shiballe had brought all his guards down here – if there were any left at the top of the stairs – which I doubted; Shiballe didn’t strike me as a man who thought scenarios like this through to the bitter end – they’d be too few and quite unprepared to stop someone as expert in escape as the Dashini.

I couldn’t get through the men determined to stop
anyone
reaching the Duke until Jillard, sounding exasperated, shouted from behind his wall of flesh, ‘Let him through.’

Grumbling under their breath, they parted, and as I stepped forward I could see Jillard and Ugh, both lying on the ground, their heads less than a foot from each other, their feet pointed in opposite directions.

‘You . . . you threw yourself upon the man who’d come to kill me,’ Jillard said.

‘Stupid Duke. I thought he was going after boy,’ Ugh said. His eyes were unfocused, and almost milky in colour.

I knelt down and put a hand on Ugh’s arm. ‘Can you feel my hand?’

‘Don’t feel nothing.’

‘Firensi!’ I called out, but there was no need; the healer was already coming behind me. He bent down and examined the sides of Ugh’s neck, then he looked at me. He didn’t even need to shake his head.

I turned to look for Kest, but of course he was already there.

‘There’s nothing we can do for him, Falcio. It’s called the Desert Mercy. It will be done soon.’

‘Mercy,’ Ugh chuckled. ‘Guess so. Feeling nothing is not so bad.’

I took his hand even though I knew he couldn’t feel mine. ‘Do you have a family? Someone you want us to—?’

‘Tell fucking horse,’ he said, and then the man I’d called Ugh – though of course that wasn’t his name – let out a final sigh and stopped breathing.

He had been a brute for most of his life, but he died a Greatcoat less than five minutes after putting on the coat.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dashini

Kest, Dariana and I spent the next six days pursuing the Dashini assassin, following him from the dungeons of Rijou, through the city and south into the northern forests of Aramor. Each day took us down increasingly rough, untravelled roads until the path split into two tracks too narrow for our horses to navigate.

‘We’ll have to leave them behind,’ Kest said.

I dismounted and started to tie my reins to a tree when I stopped. Who knew if we’d be coming back this way – or coming back at all? It would be cruel to leave the horse tied up in the middle of nowhere. I left the saddlebags on the ground and pulled out the single small pack of dried foodstuffs and vital supplies I keep prepared for such an eventuality.

‘Let’s go,’ I said, hoisting it onto my back and setting out along the forest path.

‘Why exactly are we chasing after some traitorous Dashini?’ Dariana asked, running to catch up with me. She’d asked the same question half a dozen times already; I was hoping she’d get bored of it at some point. ‘You said it yourself: it was the Knights who took Tommer, and they’re all dead now.’

‘Toujean and the others were waiting for an opportunity,’ I replied. ‘They knew someone would be sending an assassin for the Duke and they used his arrival to take Tommer.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘
I don’t know why!
’ I repeated for the sixth time. ‘All I know is that until I understand how the Dashini are involved in all of this I won’t be able to put a stop to the killings.’

‘We’re getting closer,’ Kest said, looking down at the muddy ground.

‘Of course we are, you idiot! He’s leading us to our deaths! Falcio is so determined to learn his secrets that he’ll see us all dead before we uncover them!’

I stopped for a moment and leaned back against a tree. The path had gradually curved upwards and we were now steadily ascending the side of a mountain. I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a little oil-cloth-wrapped package – a considerably smaller package than it had been a week ago – and broke off a piece of hard candy. It was probably a bit bigger than it should have been; I examined it briefly, then popped it into my mouth.

‘That’s another thing,’ Dariana said. ‘How much longer do you think you can fend off sleep with that concoction you keep eating when you don’t think anyone’s paying attention?’

It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Since we’d left Rijou I’d stopped allowing myself to close my eyes for anything more than a few minutes; I was afraid the paralysis would overcome me and we’d lose the trail. So that was six days relying on the hard candy to keep me going: six days of virtually no sleep, which was a day longer than I’d ever gone before and two days longer than the King’s apothecary had pronounced safe.

‘She’s right,’ Kest said. ‘You can barely stand on your own, Falcio.’ He’d been quiet for most of the journey, fighting his own battle inside himself. The urge to draw his blade was so strong that it was burning him up inside.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I’m just saving it all up so that I can have a really memorable nap later on. I just need a minute to rest.’

‘No, you don’t “just need a minute to rest” – you won’t last for another day like this, Falcio. You’re barely able to keep up – and when we do catch up with the assassin, what if he’s not alone?’

‘Exactly,’ Dariana said. ‘He knew he couldn’t beat all of us in Jillard’s castle so he’s playing on your world-famous need for answers to lure us into a trap.’

‘He’s definitely drawing us on,’ Kest agreed, pointing to the path through the forest ahead of us.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘It only stopped raining an hour ago.’ He picked up a bit of bramble lying beside the footprint in the mud. ‘Look: the fibres inside the break are dry.’

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Each time we thought we were close, the assassin’s trail disappeared, and when we eventually picked it up again, it looked days old. There were times when I was certain he’d lost us, and then a few hours later we would suddenly see signs of him again.

I examined the wood. ‘So that means he only just passed this way. We’re close.’

‘No,’ Kest said, ‘look at the depth of the prints. He passed this way yesterday. Then he came back around using another route and walked through again, stepping in his prints again. The second time was when the branch fell in the print.’ Kest turned to me. ‘We’re not close to him, Falcio:
he’s
close to
us
. He told you to follow him and now he’s making sure we do exactly that. He wants you, Falcio.’

I gave a hoarse laugh. ‘I think you’ve got an over-inflated sense of my importance.’

Dariana’s hand came out of nowhere and slapped me across the face. ‘Bloody fool! You still tell yourself these things? Why? Why is it so fucking important for you to convince yourself you’re just another Greatcoat out trying to enforce simple laws?’

I was genuinely surprised by her overreaction. I expected her to want nothing more than to kill the Dashini after what they’d done to her mother. Dariana was reckless at the best of times, and this was a chance for her to get revenge. ‘Because that’s what—’

‘It’s all about
you
, Falcio!’ she shouted. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet? You said the assassin told you he’d stayed in his cell because he was waiting for the chance to kill Jillard – so why didn’t he kill him during all that chaos with the Knights in the cell? Or even afterwards? He could have slipped through Jillard’s guards and put a blade across the bastard’s throat like he was supposed to, but instead he betrayed his purpose just so he could lead us on this damn fool chase –
why
? Why would any Dashini ever do that?’ She pushed a finger into my chest. ‘Because destroying you is even more important to them than their damned oaths, that’s why!’

I looked at Kest. ‘You think we should stop?’

He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘No. Everything Dariana’s said is likely true, but what you said about the Dashini being connected to the chaos and civil war that’s taking over the country? That is also true. That means you are right: until we know their role in this we’ll never put a stop to it.’

‘And just what do you think following his trail is going to do for us?’ Dariana asked angrily. ‘He’s playing with us; he’s
herding
us like the stupid sheep we are. He loses us, and then he helpfully comes back to make sure we are able to find his trail again. This is just a game to him: a chance to wear us down before he kills us.’

‘Then it’s a game he’ll regret,’ Kest replied.

‘Are you well and truly mad, o great “Saint of Swords”?’ she demanded. ‘What if it’s not just one of them who happens to be there, wherever “there” is? What if there are dozens and dozens, and what if – imagine this! – they decide not to just line up for you and stand there patiently waiting as you defeat them one at a time?’

Kest ignored the question and climbed over a fallen tree that was obstructing the path. Dariana wasn’t done with us, though. ‘They’re not fighters, Kest, they’re
killers
,’ she shouted. ‘Their fucking name means “the hunt once started ends only in blood” – don’t you get it?’

Kest wouldn’t let go, though. ‘Then we’ll find another—’

Dariana’s words finally struck me.

The hunt once started ends only in blood
.

‘Shut up,’ I said.

They both looked at me. ‘What is it?’ Kest asked.

‘Just shut up – both of you.’

Saint Zaghev-who-sings-for-tears! Is that truly what this is about? Could they really be doing all this just to draw me out? I’d never stopped to consider the implications when I killed those Dashini while Aline and I were trying to survive Blood Week in Rijou all those months ago. I’d just been trying to keep Aline alive – and yes, keeping myself alive was quite high on the agenda too. But Jillard’s agents had taken me down right after that fight, so I’d not given it much thought after that, on account of being too busy being tortured. But now I was stopping to give the matter due consideration, I could see that I might have left the Dashini with a bit of a problem. After all, if you’re an ancient order of assassins famed the world over for never failing to kill your target, and you’ve just . . . well,
failed
is probably the right word here . . . It’s just that murder isn’t just a
job
for them; it’s their
religion
.

So I had to ask myself: would they really do all of this just to capture me in some insane, elaborate, ritualistic way?

‘What do you mean, “of course they would”?’ Dariana asked.

‘What?’

‘You were mumbling to yourself. You said, “of course they would”.’

I looked at the path ahead of us, and at the footprint so carefully pressed into the mud. Here we were in the middle of nowhere, at the bottom of a mountain of loose shale, rocks and other hazards that should have made it impassable. ‘I know where we are,’ I said. ‘I know where he’s leading us.’

Dariana followed my eyes. ‘Up there? There’s no way to get up there.’

‘There’s a path,’ I said. ‘One that only a few have walked before us.’

‘You think it leads to our assassin?’ Kest asked.

I nodded.

‘Do you think that Dariana’s right? Will there be more of them?’

I nodded again.

‘How many?’

‘All of them.’

Kest’s eyes narrowed. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. That would mean he’s taking us—’

‘It’s the Dashini monastery,’ I said. ‘The assassin’s leading us to the place where they’re raised, where they’re trained, where they’re taught to kill.’

‘But that would be . . . Falcio, the Dashini Monastery has been hidden for hundreds of years – no one’s ever been able to find it. So why on earth would they give that up?’

‘Because they know we’ll come,’ I said, ‘and they don’t plan on us leaving – not alive, at any rate.’

‘Then we have to run,’ Dariana said, seizing on the chance to change our course. ‘We go and collect ourselves an army and then we come back and destroy them, once and for all.’

‘They’ll be long gone by then,’ I said. ‘The Dashini don’t believe in sacred places. They won’t hesitate to destroy a monastery and move if they need to.’

‘So how do we fight them?’ Kest said.

The answer was so feeble I could barely bring myself to say it out loud – but they had a right to know the bet on which I was about to risk their lives. ‘Years ago the King began sending Greatcoats to infiltrate the Dashini, one at a time, year after year. He believed there was a chance a handful of us could make it inside: we’d learn their secrets, and ultimately we’d bring them down before they could destroy us – and the country.’

Kest didn’t look convinced. ‘That was years ago, Falcio, and we’ve never heard back from any of them. What evidence do you have that any of them – even one of them – is still alive? The odds are—’

‘We’re the Greatcoats,’ I said portentously – it felt like a moment for grand declamations, after all. ‘Since when do Greatcoats care about the odds?’ I gave him a grin, but inside my heart was cold. It wasn’t that I believed any of the King’s spies really had succeeded in infiltrating the Dashini. I just couldn’t see any other way of us surviving what was coming next, and if all I had to cling to was false hope – well, I’d take that over despair any day.

Two Dukes were already dead, the murderers set up to look like Greatcoats. Chaos was growing as the nobility, already nervous of peasant uprisings, were now afraid for their lives – and they had pretty good reason, thanks to the mysterious Knights in black tabards who were wreaking havoc and spreading mayhem through the duchies. There was no doubt in my mind: the Dashini were fomenting civil war and creating hell in Tristia.

So either a dozen Greatcoats were waiting for us inside that monastery, or my world was about to come to its end.

The hunt once started ends only in blood.

You’ve got that right, you bastards.

*

As the going got much steeper I needed more and more help from Kest. Though the path looked impassable, with impenetrable walls of vicious thorny vines everywhere the eye could see, we were led to cunningly concealed hollowed-out paths that slipped beneath the bramble barriers. Other times, we’d find deadly shale beneath our feet that shattered into a million treacherous shards, almost guaranteeing a fall off the edge into the ravine hundreds of feet below – except for a narrow path that had been carefully cut away.

The assassin shepherded us past one danger after another, each step a reminder that without him we would be lost; it was beginning to look horribly like the Dashini really could do things we mere Greatcoats could not.

I began to feel like I was just too damn
big
; I’d been transformed into a lumbering oaf following awkwardly behind a dancer of unsurpassed skill. How had I ever been fast enough,
precise
enough, that night in Rijou, to kill two of them? Whatever God or Saint had blessed me for those few minutes during that deadly fight had obviously abandoned me now. Even when the neatha wasn’t dulling the feeling in my fingers and toes, I knew I was far slower than I had been that day and I started to wonder if I would manage even a few moments when it came to pitting my blades against theirs.

I slipped on a mat of pine needles made slick by frost, but as I lost my balance Kest caught me, stopping me inches before my head collided with a rough-trunked tree.

He’ll survive
, I thought. So that had to be our plan.
If Dariana and I can blunt their attack for even a moment, Kest will make it back
.
No matter how skilled or fast the fighter, his opponent is always twice as dangerous if he isn’t
trying
to survive.

The thought of my imminent death, of finally being free of the pain and obligation that shackled me to a dead King’s daughter, came as a sudden, enormous relief.
I can’t beat them – you can’t expect that of me. Better to demand that I cut down the mountain with my rapiers than that I fight the Dashini for you.