This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able to do so.
MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html
My email: kavrik@hotmail.com
Pictures of the characters in this story: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
Picture of the cover art for The Orb of Winter: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/news.html
"The Orb of Winter" is now available for download as a kindle book.
Chapter Fifty
"There's a magical spell on those doors," Bloodbane whispered into Kian's mind. "I don't know what kind, but any spell should be treated with caution."
He gazed up from where he crouched perfectly hidden within the shadow of a gigantic spruce tree at the second-story balcony that led into the Headmaster's office. Kian was so perfectly balanced on his toes that the snow didn't even "crinkle," and the only footprints he made were just these two as he'd teleported here from a few hundred feet away.
No tracks means it's harder to piece together the crime, Kian thought.
The doors were closed tightly against the night and the curtains drawn. But Kian saw a bit of firelight playing along the seam where the curtains met. Someone was home, and Kian bet that it was the head necromancer himself.
Can you cut through it? Kian asked.
"Of course. But not silently," the sword responded to him. "Something tells me that you'll want to be extra careful with this one. Never underestimate a spellcaster. There's some kind of enchantment on the roof too. I'd guess it's an alarm. The only place I don't detect it is through the front gate."
It wasn't over the ruined section...the place where Alexi and Paul had made their home, Kian said.
"No...but those were...how did you put it? Ruins? Honestly, Kian, sometimes I wonder how you even dress yourself. But then again, having one suit of armor makes things less complicated," Bloodbane said.
Oh shut up, Kian responded.
Kian sidestepped back to the street and vanished into the shadows. Festival goers celebrating the birth of the lamia's third child wound their way in front of the walls to the academy. Most of the men wore silly hats called chimeras: they featured the head of a goat, a lion, and a snake, symbolic because this was Kahket's third child sacrifice. Until the bell tower that rose above the training grounds of the Cataclysm Slayers of Zanda rang, the parades, the singing, and the drinking of a carbonated alcoholic beverage called Goblin Piss (bottled by Wychwood Brewery) would continue. Kian's skill to disappear in the slightest gloom made him virtually invisible, and he crouched near a table of four fat men wearing the festive chimeras and downing bottles of the orange fizzy stuff. They all sat transfixed by a minstrel who sang "The Assassin's Gambit," which told how an assassin bungled a job and ended up losing his beloved.
What a terrible story, Kian thought. It's completely unrealistic.
"How so?" Bloodbane asked.
An assassin that bungles a job doesn't end up living. So it's not like he's around to see his beloved and then lose her, Kian said.
"A bungle is just a mistake, Kian. Are you saying you don't make mistakes?"
I'm perfect at my job, he replied.
"Oh really? There was that time you trusted Angelaria and she turned on you."
That wasn't a mistake...it was an unfortunate life decision, Kian said.
"What about becoming a Timeron knight? That's a huge mistake and you'll regret it," Bloodbane said.
Again...not a mistake. It was...necessary to get Ephram out, Kian said.
"Which just resulted in him being killed while you were off getting laid," Bloodbane replied. "That's doozy number two and we are still talking about the last thirty-six hours."
Fuck you, Kian thought, scowling (which of course Bloodbane couldn't see). He reached up and grabbed the man's drink from off the table, popped his visor, and drained it dry before setting the empty back on the coaster. A moment later, the man reached for it, saw that nothing remained but foam, and punched the man in the chair next to him.
"You owe me another!" he accused. "This cost six pence."
"What on earth are you talking about?" the man asked, beard bristling. "I didn't drink your swill. You drank it all up yourself, an' I ain't got money to waste on you."
Kian tipped his head to the side, rolling his eyes at the drama. For what it's worth, it tasted good.
Kian teleported to a different area so he could get a better look at the gate to the academy. It just happened to be in a bakery making custom sandwiches for a line of about fifty people, and Kian (who was starving) started salivating at the smell of all that fresh bread. He helped himself to a fresh-made one and started eating as he watched. A customer immediately to his left (who didn't see Kian because he was so cleverly hidden) looked around at the floor and said, "Where'd my supper go?" The woman looked quite upset. She almost bumped into him, but Kian did a nice pirouette on one leg to avoid hitting her.
"I can't imagine what that tastes like," Bloodbane said. "But I trust your mouth opinion. I can see you're quite pleased."
It's salty and fatty and sweet and sour and yeasty and chewy and crispy and melty and crunchy all at the same time, Kian responded, gazing at it sideways. I think this is sandwich perfection, in fact.
"What's in it?" Bloodbane asked.
Good question. Ham, cheddar, peanut butter and pickle in a panini. I honestly think this is the sandwich dreams are made of. It's bloody fantastic, Kian thought, taking another huge bite.
By the time he'd finished wolfing the sandwich down, Kian had decided what he was going to do with the guards at the gate, of which there were four. Probably increased because of the crowd in the street, Kian thought.
"Probably," Bloodbane responded.
There's no spell on the path that leads into the school, is there? Kian asked.
"That would be pointless. All the guards would set it off all the time," Bloodbane responded.
Okay, so that's where I go in, Kian thought, rather pleased with himself.
Once more he teleported, this time onto the path about fifty feet beyond the gates. He ducked into the shadows as a patrol of two Blades Acuaruum soldiers walked by in half-plate armor. He crouched in the overhang of a large stone staircase. Up top, a balcony perched to overlook the courtyard, and he imagined Alexi and Paul standing up there watching students rush to and from class. It was times like these when Kian wished he'd gone to school, if anything, just to make more friends.
Granite columns held up a steep roof covered in ceramic tiles now dusted with white and hung with icicles. Ghostly white flakes swirled around Kian as he moved under the broad stair, choosing his steps carefully so as to leave no footprints.
Kian crept beyond the courtyard, the huge staircase, and into a hall of flickering light. Torches in sconces and iron chandeliers overhead (that brimmed with lit tallow candles) shed an amber glow all around him. It looked warm but was in fact very cold as the corridor opened into the courtyard, which itself was open to the stars. But there were so many doors to choose from. Many of them had labels, but of course he couldn't read them. The fine gold script might as well have been interpretive dance: Kian had no clue.
Kian carefully thought about the layout of the place, where he'd crouched just outside the Headmaster's window, and then decided to take a corridor to his left. Two more patrols walked right past him, one underneath him as Kian leapt from a stand to a perch ten feet into the rafters of a corridor with particularly high ceilings. He balanced on a three-inch beam, making no sound at all, and listened to their conversation.
"I've always wanted to see what goes on beyond that leather door," one guard snickered. "I swear...sometimes he takes girls in there and you hear them screaming later."
"Do they ever come out again?" the other guard asked.
"Sometimes," the guard admitted, his voice fading down the hall. "But at other times it's just a bag, but you know there's a body inside because of the way it sags."
"What an old pervert..."
Then they turned the corner and were gone.
Kian hopped down and landed with the grace of a cat. Leather door, eh?
Kian moved down the hallway, turning to the right, going past wooden door after wooden door until he reached the end which banked sharply to the left. There he saw a door bound in leather and pinned in several places by buttons. It stood between a pair of statues: one a demon and the other a unicorn.
This has to be it, Kian thought, glancing at the plaque to his right. Office of the Headmaster of the Academy of Necromancy, he imagined it saying. Who needs to learn to read anyway?
He retrieved his lockpicks, checked the door, and sure enough found it to be locked. It took Kian's dexterous fingers a moment to get it open, and then he slipped inside closing the door behind him. There twenty feet in front of his boots, stood a curious looking stair all made of bones pieced together, and they ascended into the gloom and presumably an office up top, alight with orange flame (probably from the hearth). Kian listened and heard a voice (male) speaking.
"This should have worked! Think, Think, Think," Headmaster Boritsi said. "Go over everything! The Dreaded Irtemara will never accept failure. You must solve this and tonight!"
Kian approached the stairs silently, and stopped about ten feet from them. Deciding to skip them altogether, he teleported to the top and ducked into the shadow of a cedar armoire, slipping carefully behind a coat rack. He was so quiet and dexterous, he didn't even disturb a sleeping raven perched on a wire above the headmaster's desk.
Still, the necromancer looked up from his seat behind that desk, black skin reflecting the firelight, and eyes looking drawn and haggard. He stared into the gloom and cast a spell. Kian felt something try to probe his mind, but his protection from psionics (of all kinds) deflected it.
"Your eyes are playing tricks on you, old fool," he muttered.
Headmaster Boritsi stood up and refilled a tall mug with hot tea. He added a little dried orange peel and some herb Kian didn't recognize. Incredibly, the headmaster was probably twenty-five feet away and Kian could smell the mint and chamomile, he could also sense the man's heartbeat on his skin through his killsuit.
Why are my fucking nerves so sensitive all the sudden? Kian asked himself. No matter, I've a job to do.
Kian looked up and saw rafters that supported the vaulted ceiling. Probably not dusted in ages, Kian knew he'd have to land perfectly or risk dust falling on the man's desk. But it was his best shot at getting a clean assassination.
He teleported and alighted on the narrow rafters holding himself up on his toes. Not a sprinkle of dust fell, even though it was at least half an inch thick. He also had landed in such a way as to disperse his one-hundred forty pounds over two beams, and he got lucky that they didn't creak. Kian took out a piece of folded paper, scooped clear enough dust onto it and then set that on another rafter...all without making a sound. Below him, the headmaster sipped at his steaming cup of tea and rubbed his eyes. The raven continued to sleep, its head buried under one wing.
Kian looped his legs over the beam and lowered himself over the edge so that his torso dangled down. The headmaster got up and walked beyond the curtain to something laying on a table there. Kian smelt putrefaction. Necromancers and their obsession with rot, Kian thought. It's the one thing I don't like about Alexi.
Carefully, he unwound a string until it hovered over the Headmaster's tea. Popping open a vial of caasak, he let a few drops spill onto the string and they slowly descended to their destination, plopping one at a time into his drink. Then he carefully closed the vial of the world's deadliest poison and retrieved the string, being careful as he wound it to not send any stray droplets scattering about.
Odorless and colorless, caasak always caused instantaneous death.
Kian perched there and watched.
The headmaster returned, sat once more at his desk, and started rifling through papers with all kinds of diagrams and drawings of organs and anatomy. Then he reached for his tea, put it to his lips, and drank from it. A moment later he gasped, and the raven awoke cawing loudly as the head necromancer stood, and staggered a few feet, knocking over a case of potions, and sending several dozen scrolls flying across the floor. Then the old man fell to his knees, grasping at his neck, and died with white foam spilling from between his lips.
All at once, the blackness of his skin fled him, like the night sky recoiling before the dawn. It formed into a puddle and disappeared into the shadows of the room.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!" the raven screeched, looking about the room. But it couldn't see Kian.
The assassin of the silver rose pulled himself back up onto the rafter and teleported to the bottom of the bone stair. Then he slipped out of the academy and into the night having completed the last mission given to him. Then he ran as fast as he could back to the Silly Dryad, and the family who needed him.
The complete novel is now available for your reading pleasure at https://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html