EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (269 page)

Knowing he was clearly overmatched, the surviving leather bolted out the door, screaming like a girl with a snake on her back.
 

Whirling around, the hooded man walked slowly towards Vega.
 

The girls were either face down behind the bar with their arms covering the backs of their heads or holding onto the big man with faces buried into his back, sobbing uncontrollably.
 

“I know who you are...Phantom,” the barkeep said evenly as he threw the crossbow onto the floor, “and I know you won’t hurt me or my girls. Go upstairs and pull the string hanging from the ceiling. The guards will be here soon, so you better take to the rooftops. Go now,” he said, pointing to the stairs.
 

The dark figure paused a second then bowed low, his drooping hood nearly flush against the floor.

Vega glanced out the window when he heard the bells begin to ring, but when he looked back, the phantom was gone.
Good luck, stranger
.
I’ll lose no
sleep tonight
.

Running across the rooftops, the assassin never broke stride, easily dealing with the slippery surface. He leapt over chimneys and oddly placed furniture items that folks stored on their roofs. As his lungs burned for air and his heart pounded relentlessly, the assassin ran on at full speed through the driving rain, spurred on by calls of “he’s up there”
and “shoot him.” Crossbow bolts whizzed past his face and torso as the shouts became louder and more frequent.

The next rooftop was a good fifteen-foot jump. The assassin picked up more and more speed then leaped with everything he had. As if all of the world stood still for one moment, the assassin floated across the sky, standing out like a white rabbit in dark grass as his shadow crossed the moon. A collective gasp could be heard from all those below who were watching the bringer of death drift across the sky. Lightning flashed as he finally landed on the other rooftop, rolled into a somersault just to gain footing, and continued on at full speed. He could see the open gate off in the distance. Leaping to the ground and rolling twice, he gained his footing once again as he began to sprint like a deer.

The assassin could hear the calls behind him to close the gate. The soldiers heard the call and looked to see the assassin running down the street. They each ran to opposite wooden wheels and began turning as fast as they could. They had just opened it minutes ago, getting ready for the morning traffic.

Heart pounding in his ears, watching it lower before his eyes, the cloaked figure used a last burst of speed. At the last second, he did a sideways roll, just clearing the bottom before the gate slammed shut. One final roll brought the assassin to his feet as he kept running down the path and into the trees. His white mare was hidden, tied up just where he had left her. Untying her quickly, he jumped on her back and sped off into the safety of the forest.

Soldiers filled The Bleeding Duck.
 

The captain of the guard talked to Vega in the corner while the other guards examined the bodies. “So there is nothing else you can tell us,” said the captain in a slow, even voice as he rubbed his chin. He was a very tall man with a thick blond mustache and long blond hair tied into a ponytail flowing from under his helmet. As with all the other soldiers, he wore the customary red eagle on his breastplate. His eyes darted around the room wildly as he waited for Vega to reply.
 

“I told you everything. There was a man in a black robe who did all of this, and I never saw his face. Apparently, it was the same guy reported by the guards at the front gate.” The barkeeper sounded annoyed at the same question being asked over and over again. Vega had had a long night and was in no mood for this.
 

“Well, if you think of anything else, let me know,” the captain said with one final look around the room. “By the way, we found the owner of that hand. His name was Will Kalak. His body was found near the edge of the forest. All we know about him is that he was also a sword for hire...like these guys,” he said with one final look over his shoulder. He and the other soldiers left with the three bodies in tow.

Vega knew the way of things, and figured the assassin to be long gone by now, so he felt no need to lie and cover anything up to protect him. He knew it was done, and the assassin had gotten away with it. Plus, he had no love for those leathers. Rumors had already reached his ears about some dark-hooded assassin who had been picking these guys off for weeks. Dealing with so many folk from other towns and comparing some of the rumors had convinced him the stories were probably true. He knew it was the same guy the second he walked into his tavern.

The rain had broken now, and the sun was coming out. The man in black quietly tied the beautiful white horse to a tree outside of a red barn, then snuck around through the tall grass to the side of the two-story house made entirely of gray stone. The beautiful cottage seemed to make the red barn appear out of place.
 

The cloaked figure carefully climbed up the grapevine that ran up the back of the stone house and quietly opened the window before sneaking inside. The room was furnished with a large bed, coat rack, and a small wooden table with two fine, polished wooden chairs. Last but not least was a huge dresser with a full-sized mirror attached to the top of it.
 

“Hey, who is that?” came an older man’s voice from down stairs. “Jade, are you up?” Slow footsteps could now be heard coming up the stairs.

The black cloak went flying into the closet, followed by both shoes. A lacy baby-blue nightgown was thrown on in seconds. One, two, three pins were removed from long, black hair now flowing over petite, yet defined shoulders.

The door opened and a white-haired, kind-looking old man walked into the room. “Oh, good. You are awake, Jade. Are you ready for breakfast?” the man asked with a warm smile.
 

“Yes, father,” came the sweet, innocent reply. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The young girl smiled, her flowing black hair roughed-up and messy. She tilted her head to the side as she fluttered those innocent
crystal-blue eyes
.

Chapter III

T
HE
HOT
,
DRY
AIR
WHIPPED
around in mini spirals, turning a pinkish red with the dust and debris picked up from the sandy desert floor. The faint color gave the illusion of life to the mini tornadoes before they unwound, releasing their contents back onto the ground and losing the animated effect. The very moment the wind died down, the scorching sun took over once again, mercilessly baking the desert landscape. Wavy lines of distortion drifted from every rock formation, disrupted only when the winds picked up yet again, and the hot, sweltering, air formed the dancing sand ghosts once more.
 

Many miles north, deeper into the wasteland than anyone has ever gone, is a sight so out of place, it would appear to be a mirage to anyone that laid eyes on the spectacle. There, in the middle of the sandy tomb, a fertile oasis teemed with life. Beautiful palm trees were alive with all sorts of colorful birds, both perched and airborne, singing contentedly without a care in the world. A babbling brook split the oasis in half, and it was full with goldfish both white and orange, each up to a foot in length, lazily swimming to the edge of the stream just to slowly turn around and return the way they came. Exotic fruit trees of all sorts are scattered about randomly, including apple, orange, plum, and some sort of yellow fruit that is not known anywhere else in Tarmerria.
 

At the very top of a cliff is a flat area with no trees or birds. The only vegetation was long, green grass with a few dandelions and other weeds mixed in. A jet-black marble tower protruded from the flat surface, standing several stories tall. In all its unnatural beauty, it’s quite clear no human created this. Wide at its base, it continued to grow thinner as your eyes followed the structure from base to top. At the midway point, the tower splits into three columns, each reaching up towards the sky. The middle column was straight as an arrow, but the other two each bent towards the center, giving the whole tower the shape of a bent pitchfork. There was no door or entrance that could be seen, but the smoke coming from the middle column made it clear that someone or something lived inside.

The interior of the tower was no less impressive than the outside. The upper-level room was full of hand-carved furniture fit for royalty. A large, thick, sturdy wooden table, along with matching wooden chairs of equal quality, was placed in the corner of the room. A large, black, wooden dresser stood opposite the table. But the most intricate piece of furniture by far was the king-sized bed that looked to sleep five. The sheets and blankets were checkered with reds, blues, yellows and greens. Set with just as many colors was the giant see-through net that hung from a metal frame surrounding the bed, although the colors were not as bright due to the thin material. It was all a stark contrast to the jet-black, shiny marble floor and the dull gray stone walls.
 

The walls were full of tapestries, each with gold-embroidered edges. Some images were of mythical creatures tearing apart humans, but most were of kings and queens, all with servants surrounding them, bowing or holding jewelry placed on a pillow, reaching out towards their masters.

The bedcovers began to stir, then, with a jolt, a large figure sat up. Yellow catlike eyes with dark pupils shaped in slits stared straight ahead at nothing for moment. A snout like a pig’s with two small tusks protruding from the lower jaw completed the unearthly features of the half-demon, half-man monstrosity. The seven-foot beast of a man jumped out of the bed and marched towards the window.
 

Dragot, as he was called, patiently held out one finger, and within a few seconds a large blue parrot flew to him, hovering in front of his pig-like snout momentarily before finally perching on the offered finger. “A beautiful day, is it not?” came the soothing, calm, articulate voice as the monster stroked the feathers of his pet with his other hand. With a little flick, the bird left its perch and flew back out the window and into the heavenly oasis.

Dragot strolled across the smooth marble floor and entered a large walk-in closet. He returned with a golden helmet that had three green stones embedded in the forehead, and two golden horns on the very top. The nosepiece split his face and fit perfectly over his snout. A long, flowing, gold-colored robe with stripes of green and black completed the outfit. Gray, gnarled bare feet seemed completely out of place, given how exotic the rest of the outfit was.
 

Leaving the room through the thick wooden door, the demon clasped both hands behind his back as he gracefully stepped down the long, spiraling stairway. The beast slowly traveled down the narrow steps with a smile on his face.
 

Dragot was in no hurry this day, or any other day for that matter. He had lived a thousand years and was all but guaranteed to live a thousand more. The creature never felt rushed, but that is not to say he was not driven.
Soon, the world of humans will be at
an end
.