Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (58 page)

Kisan knew she couldn’t wait here with Five, and was going to have to make a difficult choice on who to follow. She closed her eyes and increased her awareness, bringing herself up to full combat readiness, preparing for battle. She shot a quick glance at Five, then crouched against the wall. That act saved her life.

A stiletto buried itself where Kisan’s head had just been. Before she could react, a booted foot struck her in the ribs, flipping her over and backward. Five advanced on her, his eyes burning blue and his intent clear.

Five stopped a few feet away from the prostrated form of Six and said, "If you're one of Dazra's men, stupid way to choose to die. Tell me and I'll make this quick and painless."

Kisan flipped up to her feet and stood facing the dwarf. It was clear she had lost her cover, but did not understand how. Then with sudden clarity she knew,
the stone!
The fortress itself had shown Prime and the others that one of their team wasn’t a stone maker.

Her flameskin blossomed around her dwarven form in an ignition of orange fire. Kisan’s subterfuge no longer mattered, and she felt an icy cold anger settle into place.

"Six is dead," she admitted. "I killed him back on the Isle. Tell me, which target does Prime pursue?"

Nothing but silence came from Five. In a blur of motion, he attacked. His granite-like fists struck quickly and unerringly at Kisan’s body in multiple double punches and kicks, followed by knees and elbows.

To Kisan, however, the dwarven assassin moved in slow motion. On the Isle, when they had faced Thera, they had used poison and surprise to best her in combat. She had paid with her life, trying to protect so many children around her.

This time, Kisan wasn’t surprised, and there were no children to protect. This assassin faced a master who wasn’t outnumbered and knew her opponent. Whether he knew it or not, this assassin faced death.

Kisan moved into the attacks, instantly reading the timing and style of everything thrown at her. Her arms moved in a motion that was both economical and brutal, inflicting damage at every block. Orange fire blossomed to white as her power grew. She countered with elbows, then used the assassin’s momentum and weight against him, striking with short arced knees to his upper thighs, and forearms to her opponent’s collarbone and neck.

Each blow hammered into the dwarf like the maul of a titan, battering him backward. When the assassin, in desperation, threw two punches at Kisan’s head and midsection, the master stepped in with her arms circling, blocking both. She continued her motion, pushing the assassin’s arms away from her body. Then, her head slammed into the dwarf’s nose, splattering it in a detonation of orange-white fire and pain.

Before the assassin could recover, Kisan hit him with a spinning back kick to the chest. The force of the blow threw the dwarf against the back wall, where he crumbled to a heap. Kisan moved up and grabbed the assassin by the hair.

Just as she pulled his head up, he punched upward like a snake, his fist curled around a poisoned stiletto. Her hand stopped the blade in mid-air, his wrist caught in her vise-like grip. Then, consumed with rage, she released the illusion and was Kisan once more.

Judging by the sharp, indrawn breath and the sudden cessation of any movement, it was clear the change had stunned the assassin. The detailed dossiers on her and the other adepts guaranteed he knew his opponent, and likely what was coming next. The arm in her grip curled and tensed, fighting her for control as he pushed his weight forward, trying to get himself into a position with more leverage.

"I want you to know who killed you," she said. "This is for my friends on the Isle, and for the lore father."

The bones in his wrist snapped and broke as Kisan crushed them in her grip, the Way flashing in her eyes like lightning. The stiletto turned slowly until it pointed at his eye.

"And this is for the children."

The stiletto punched into the assassin’s eye, the poison taking hold even as the brain registered shock and confusion. Five fell back, his one remaining eye focused on the adept as his muscles clenched and tightened, a gift from the poisoned blade. Kisan pulled her hand back, delivering a strike that crushed his neck and spine, ending his life.

She stood, looking down at the dead assassin, breathing in gulps. Incandescent anger flamed within her, a blinding rage that reflected in the orange-white intensity of her flameskin. Slowly, the fire along with the anger within her ebbed as she saw the dead man at her feet.

There was no pity in her, but she didn’t feel any better. She wouldn’t until every one of Prime’s team was dead, but a mistake she had just made needed to be addressed. She quickly knelt and put a hand to the assassin’s forehead, cursing her own rashness.

She had to act quickly if there were any chance to mindread this one and gain critical insight into Prime’s plan. Slowly, her vision went black and she dove into Five’s fading memories.

Prime went after the null, which could only be Arek. Two led the second strike team to the king himself, but the details were jumbled and difficult to understand and getting worse. Unlike Tamlin, who had still been alive, Five was already dead because of the virulence of the poison and Kisan’s anger. She should have kept this assassin alive and incapacitated, and cursed herself again. She knew Silbane would never have made such a mistake. Now she was forced to make a few educated guesses.

She moved over to the doorway and took a moment to think. It was no surprise that Prime would go after the primary target. Their orders were to kill him, and Prime would not chance that to anyone else. Kisan didn’t hesitate in coming to a decision, for her mind had been turning it over ever since her contact with Lore Father Giridian. Arek made his choice when he killed Piter, and for that reason she abandoned him to Prime. It saved her issue with Silbane, but still accomplished her mission.

Her mind turned now to the king and his family. She had no love for the Galadines, but would not help assassins who had killed the children of the Isle to kill again. Her best chance to find information on Sovereign lay with interrogating Two, who was privy to Prime's intelligence reports but not as experienced as the leader of these assassins.

Kisan decided not to change back to look like Tamlin. Prime knew she was an imposter and had left Five to end her. The disguise was a waste of valuable energy, something she was using quickly, and the strike team would be suspicious of any dwarf that showed up at their location.

She decided instead to conserve her strength and track the larger team led by Two. She moved out into the corridor and looked in both directions.

Prime had been smart. He followed mission protocols and hadn’t shared anything with Five that could lead to him, except his target. That made tracking him impossible through the jumble of memories, but Two hadn’t been so careful. He and Five were friends, and he had shared their path.

Kisan smiled, then set off at a fast but silent run, her form fading from sight like a shimmer of heat. She would find and kill this team, extract whatever information she needed to put an end to Prime
after
he finished Arek, and find out what she could about Sovereign. Then for Piter, Thera, and all the children of the Isle who had fallen to these assassins' blades, she would end Prime's life in the most painful way she could devise.

F
ALCON
’
S
P
REY

A Bladesman never interrupts,

While his enemy is making a mistake.

—Davyd Dreys, Notes to my Sons

A
sh and his men were assembled in a ready room, a smaller octagonal room that resembled the great council chamber, except there was only one statue and sphere here. The room was dominated by a table like the one in its larger counterpart, around which clustered soldiers of Bara’cor, each with varying expressions of awe.

They looked upon an enchantment that had suddenly sprung to life, causing this table to display images of a miniature map of Bara’cor and the surrounding area. The enchantment seemed to change the map as necessary, so as features changed in the land around Bara’cor, so too did the table. It was as if the rock itself knew what was happening around it. However, unlike the table in the larger war room, this displayed the images hanging in the space above the table in three dimensions.

Another aspect of the table was that it showed the nomad army like a red stain of blood spread before the fortress walls. This had begun not too long ago, and clearly not in time with any attack launched by the nomads. Still, whatever magic allowed the table to mimic the landscape of the terrain, also considered the nomads an enemy. Though it was not detailed enough for small scale tactics, it was useful to understand quickly the disposition and concentration of the enemy forces. Talis looked at it now, while Ash flipped a small leather belt to Chandra.

"This will be good for your knives," he said. "The king will be here shortly."

True to his word, King Bernal Galadine came into the room, followed by his firstmark. He reached into a small pocket and retrieved the Finder, which he placed on the table as he came up to stand next to Talis, his eyes on the map. "Anyone come up with a reason for the table to start doing this?"

"No, my king," answered Talis. The older warrior turned his attention to the map, interpreting it for the king. "Their forces are still groupin’ here, sir," he indicated with a cracked fingernail to a spot just outside of arrow and catapult range. "It seems the darker areas mean more troops, though I can’t say I understand how this blasted table knows that."

"Have you ever seen the likes of this?" asked the king. He looked askance at the firstmark and the armsmark.

Jebida moved a bit closer, displeasure plain in his eyes. "The damn thing has been a simple table through countless military encounters and now lights up like Haven on Winters Feast. It’s clearly magical, and the only people using magic against us are either camped at our doorstep or a spy in the form of a kid."

"To what end?" asked Ash. "More likely this is some dwarven enchantment that has recently come to life."

The king asked the armsmark, "But why now?"

"It hasn’t been doing this for very long," Ash replied. "King Bara may have created it as an aid if the fortress would be breached."

"Waiting till breach does not make military sense, whether you be dwarven or not," the firstmark huffed. "No, something else is causing this." He leaned forward, a hand on his chin looking at the table, "I'll admit though, seeing the enemy like this is useful, if the information can be trusted. Never throw away an advantage in a fight."

Ash looked at the assembled men and motioned to the king. "With your permission, I’d like to go over the final preparations before we infiltrate the camp."

The king nodded, but then looked around. "Where’s the boy, Arek? We’ll need him to activate the Finder." He motioned to a waiting runner and ordered, "Fetch him... and my son for that matter." Looking back at the armsmark he said, "A moment, no sense in repeating yourself."

As the runner took off, Talis bent over, inspecting something on the section that showed the translucent image of Bara’cor’s interior. "Now... what’s this?"

Three small blue dots moved through the fortress. They followed the hallways and corridors and moved with alarming speed.

The king and his men came closer to look. "What
is
that?"

Ash took a look and his eyes narrowed. "Whatever it is, it’s coming towards us." He turned to the door and drew Tempest, who sang a clear note of fine steel as she cleared her scabbard. His team, the king, and Jebida followed suit. "Prepare yourselves."

Talis drew his short blade and kept his eyes glued on the map. "It’s coming down our passageway." A few heartbeats went by and then he whispered, "It’s right outside the door."

With a deafening crash and a flash of blinding light, the door burst inward and chaos ensued. The king and Jebida fell back as Ash and his team moved forward out of instinct, the party able to act only because of the warning they had gotten from Talis and the table. However, the explosive entry had served its purpose and disoriented the defenders, who still moved without coordination.

Their disarray cost them, and Sevel took the brunt of the first attack. A black shape slammed into him. Three punches that sounded like granite hitting flesh sent him flying backward across the table. He landed in a crumpled heap on the far side, unmoving.

Two knives flashed past Ash’s ear as Chandra whipped them at her attacker. Both scored a hit, sticking into the chest of the man, but not as deeply as Ash expected. The man slapped them out of his body, then threw his stiletto at Chandra, who ducked and rolled at the last instant. The knife stuck halfway to its hilt in the stone behind her.

Behind the leader came two more black shapes, fast as lightning. They arced over the point man, landing lightly on either side of the table to engage the defenders, who had fallen back along the sides.

Talis moved forward, slamming into the man on his side, and put him into a wrestler’s hug. It wasn’t until he tried to get his arms around his opponent that he seemed to realize his mistake. The man was bigger than he looked and his body did not give at all.

Two crushing blows slammed down on Talis’s shoulders as the attacker’s elbows smashed into his back. His grip loosened. Then a fist cracked into his skull and he fell back, half conscious.

Ash held Tempest, who pulsed green. He drove his attack forward, spinning a deadly web of steel around the attacker facing him. The man used his forearms to block the blade, and Ash was surprised to see Tempest spark and skitter off. Then his foot caught. The very stone of the room seemed to trip him.

Shieldrock!
she cried.
These aren’t men, beloved.

Ash didn’t reply, recovering from the trip and continuing his deadly dance with his attacker, who moved with the fluidity and grace of one borne to combat. Each of his cuts and strikes met a forearm block or an ingenious dodge, leaving the armsmark tired and frustrated.