Dragon Assassin 2: Shadow Hunter Read online

  Dragon Assassin 2

  Shadow Hunter

  Arthur Slade

  Dava Enterprises

  Copyright © 2019 by Arthur Slade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Zhivko Zhelev

  Map by Garnet Whyte

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Footfalls in the Shadows

  2. Pointy Things

  3. A Shattered Mask

  4. Words on a Mountain

  5. A Loyal Creature

  6. Too Hot for That

  7. Thespian Way

  8. Meeting a Traitor

  9. A Step Behind

  10. It's Survival

  11. That Thing

  12. Two Drops of Blood

  13. Hidden in Maps

  14. Even Further than Deira

  15. The Surprise

  16. An Important Question

  17. The Cold of Woden

  18. The Wolf Fighter

  19. The Spear

  20. Flight Across the Past

  21. The Oath

  22. Not Like Cleaning Stables

  23. What Is Fair?

  24. Three Hands and a Talon

  Also by Arthur Slade

  About the Author

  1

  Footfalls in the Shadows

  I slipped off the back of the dragon and landed softly behind the guard. He stared over the parapets of the tower toward the city of Myra. Perhaps he was watching the torch-lit merchant ships sail into port. He had not expected anyone to touch down behind him.

  And so he fell easily when I slid out my dagger and smacked the hilt into the side of his head. I caught him, making sure his chain mail didn’t clatter, and lowered him to the ground. Then I crouched beside the guard and felt his pulse. From what I’d learned in assassin school, he’d be out for at least two hours.

  Plenty of time to complete my task.

  Brax was already high in the air. It was amazing how such a large creature could travel in silence. He’d promised to circle high above the walled mansion, being careful not to come between it and the crescent moon. No sense letting anyone spot a dragon flapping around in the mortal realms. I had practiced a Whiskered Screech Owl hoot to summon him.

  Two guards patrolled the grounds below along with four large dogs. I’d observed their movements over the last week and knew they'd be on duty for the next three hours before being replaced by another set of guards.

  I adjusted my mask. I’d made it from a moveable wax—a skill I’d picked up under the tutelage of Maestru Alesius. The mask gave me the appearance of a middle-aged man. It would be bad if my brother knew I was still alive.

  Worse than bad, in fact. It would be deadly.

  I had also painted a left eye in the mask that I could peer through. As long as no one looked too closely, it would hide the fact my dragon eye glowed.

  I needed to know Corwin’s plans and to figure out how to track him down. The mansion belonged to the Horus family. They had a son named Gregum, and he was one of my brother’s closest friends.

  I’d spotted Gregum coming and going from the mansion at all hours of day and night. I was sure he was doing my brother’s work. And I was pretty certain I knew which room was his.

  The tower door was open, so I crept down the stone stairs. The stairwell torch had burned itself out, but with my dragon eye that didn’t matter. The faintest bit of moonlight was enough to see the outline of the steps. Even my balance was better.

  I still wasn’t certain what to make of my new eye. The fact I could see such a great distance was sometimes alarming. And there were moments where I felt I was looking into other spaces, other worlds.

  “It’s just the witching blood in my Scythian veins,” Brax had explained. “Guess you have it now. It only makes sense since it’s my eye.”

  He didn't elaborate. He continued to be angry about the deal we’d made.

  I was glad to no longer wear an eye patch. And, at the same time, I missed it. Which was an odd reaction.

  The tower stood in the courtyard's center, and the mansion had been built around them both. I came to the bottom of the steps and edged open the door, revealing a lush garden: there were grapes, apples, lilies and other fauna the country of Trella was famous for. This interior yard was where the Horus family would have massive parties. And the tower was where they’d flee if they were ever threatened.

  Obviously they were a very, very rich family.

  My dark assassin’s cloak hid me from any watching eyes. I crossed the courtyard and entered the house through a servant’s door. There would be guards in the mansion itself and I had no idea of their patrol patterns, so I’d have to be completely silent.

  I went down a hallway. Paintings of Trellian gods hung on either side of me. Their gods wore little in the way of clothing. I thought I recognized Gregum in one painting and I nearly tittered out loud. An artist had painted the whole family into the scenes as if they were gods, too: eating, drinking, fighting. Oh, how highly they thought of themselves!

  I was so busy smiling that I nearly bumped into a servant girl clutching an armful of towels. At the last moment I threw myself against the wall and stood still.

  She walked right by, humming a jaunty song.

  The mind should never wander, Maestru Alesius had often said. I missed him. I missed our long conversations. I even missed how he would correct me.

  His death was yet another reason to find Corwin.

  And to kill him.

  I padded up a set of stairs and came to an open window. It was a warm enough night to keep the windows open. I hopped out onto the windowsill and climbed hand over hand along the gutters, thankful they were strong.

  I made my way to Gregum’s windowsill. It was open, the curtains moving slightly. I knew when I crouched in the frame I’d block the moonlight, making myself more visible, but there was no way around that. Thank the gods the Horus family is so rich! I thought. Being that rich meant they hired the best masons who didn’t make ledges that crumbled easily. I knelt and peered in.

  Gregum was asleep in his bed.

  Just the sight of him made me shudder in revulsion. He’d always been coiled like a massive snake next to my brother. His eyes coldly watching me and the other students like we were something to devour. He was the largest of our graduating class, and he relied on his brute force.

  He slept soundly, making the slightest snore. Obviously, he felt no guilt about the students and maestrus he’d killed.

  I thought of skipping the questions and just stabbing him. They trained me for killing, though I’d never taken a life. But tonight, I wanted information. I’d very much like to know what work Gregum was doing for my brother.

  I drew in my breath, searched for any trap and then lowered myself onto the floor. First one foot. Then the other. Another advantage of an expensive stone house was that the floors didn't creak.

  I grew warm. Glowing embers in the hearth were still casting out heat. I sweated at once.

  The mask on my face slipped slightly. I could still see fine, and there was nothing I could do now to secure it. I just had to hope the sticky sap on the underside kept being sticky.

  I noted a desk against the wall with a few scrolls on top, and beside them were several dolls. Why would Gregum collect chil
dren’s toys?

  I took a step. And another. The carpet was thick. I didn’t make a noise.

  Then: tinkle. The sound of breaking glass under my foot.

  He had hidden glass balls beneath the carpet. Now that was clever! I glanced over to see him move in his sleep, rolling so one hand lay over the far edge of the bed. I did my best impression of a statue until I was sure he was still asleep.

  My dragon eye spotted several other small lumps in the carpet and I avoided them.

  As I neared the hearth, sweat dribbled down my face and the mask slipped enough to block my vision. I fiddled with it. Maestru Alesius would mock my mask-making skills. Was the wax itself melting? Perhaps I hadn’t made a strong batch.

  I pushed the mask back into place and shuddered once I’d lined up the eyeholes. Gregum was sitting up, glaring at me, a small crossbow in his right hand. He must have had it hidden at the far end of the bed.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. “I like to know the name of the person I kill.”

  2

  Pointy Things

  Gregum was a gifted, loud braggart. After any school trial where he'd emerged victorious, he’d thump his breast and roar like a demented lion. He’d do the same when he finished an exam at the top of the class (which wasn’t that often). His confidence was second only to my brother’s.

  He was also pointing a crossbow at me. And I was far too close to even think of dodging. His hand was steady.

  “So, dead man, who are you?” he asked. Gregum gave me a great big toothy smile.

  “Um.. Uh,” I said, keeping my voice gruff and as manly as possible. “I… I have information for you. As a gift.”

  “I don’t need gifts. You’re here because I’m killing the other assassins, aren’t you? You came to save yourself.”

  It took a moment to understand what he’d said. He was hunting assassins?

  “Yes,” I said, thinking it best to keep my answers short. “A deal. For my life.”

  “No deals. Sorry. I get paid too well to make deals. But it’s obvious that you are from the Red Adept Assassin School. It’s where the best are trained. I’m right, aren’t I?” He shook the crossbow a little as though urging agreement.

  I nodded slowly.

  “Of course I am.” He licked his lips. “We are wiping out all the assassins. They’re just too pesky to have around. And cleaning the slate is my little project. Now, I am curious about how you found me, since no one knows my name.”

  “A bird told me.”

  His eyes narrowed and glinted as if they were made of polished stone. “I don’t like games. Unless they involve pointy things being stuck into my enemies. So tell me who you are and how you found me. Now!”

  “But don’t you want the gift?” I asked again, gruffly.

  “You have nothing of value but your name. I will draw a line through it when you’re dead.”

  “But I have the gift, here.” I gestured at my cloak.

  “I told you not to move! Not even a finger.” He spat a little as he spoke. It was clear I had to give him something to think about, or he might just put a bolt through me.

  “The surprise has to do with Scyllia,” I said, still speaking gruffly.

  “How do you know her name?” There was a dangerous tone to his voice. “You know far too much.” He got out of bed and I was glad to see he was wearing undergarments. His aim, as he moved, was directly at my chest. “That’s a mask, isn’t it? You’re hiding your face. But you spoke the names of my classmates, and there are only five of us alive. And I know you’re not Scyllia or Corwin. So which one are you?”

  I’d made a mistake! I wanted to smack myself upside the head. Why did I let him know I knew so much about him?

  “In fact, I am not sure if you’re a girl or a boy,” he said.

  Damn. Gregum looked dull-witted, but behind that thick skull was a clever brain.

  “I’m a boy,” I gruffed.

  “Prove it!”

  How did he expect me to do that? And then a thought came to me. A dangerous thought.

  “I’m Corwin.” I tried my best to copy my brother’s voice.

  “Corwin?” His grip on the crossbow wavered. “Is that really you, Corwin? Is this another test?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s me. And yes, it’s a test. The emperor told me you would betray us.”

  “That’s not true!” He still hadn’t lowered the bow. “You sound like Corwin and you’re about the same size, but why would you risk your life to test me?”

  “You know my jokes, Gregum,” I said. “I’m just playing with you.”

  “I’ve passed all your trials. I even broke oaths for you. Why more tests?” He whined.

  “It’s—it’s not a test,” I said. “I lied.” I had perfected my brother’s snarky tone. “I have a gift, remember? I gave Scyllia hers, now I’ll give you yours. It awaits inside my cloak.”

  “What sort of gift?” he asked.

  What did Gregum want? Gold? No, look at where he lived. Nor would he want gems or books. Would he love a sharp blade? Or the beating heart of a princess?

  “It’s a crown,” I said. “I am giving you a whole province. Well, me and the emperor. Take it, Greggs.” I also knew that was my brother’s nickname for his friend.

  Gregum was still for a moment, then he reached out with his left hand and felt the inside top pocket of my cloak. I didn't move.

  “It’s a box,” he said. “It’s too small for a crown.”

  Squeeze it! I wanted to shout. Squeeze it. I’d put a venom needle on my coin box. Not enough to kill, but it would really, really sting.

  “There’s a gem inside the box,” I said. “For your provincial crown.”

  He held his fist in front of him and opened his palm. The box was sitting there. Why hadn’t it stung him?

  “It’s so small.” He sounded disappointed. He prodded at the lock with his thumb. “Ow!” he shouted, dropping the box.

  At that same moment I swung my fist into his elbow so the crossbow bolt flew into the wall. He was disoriented and clutching his hand, so I slammed into him and reached for my dagger. Then I thought better of it and ripped a pouch from my pocket and threw a handful of dust toward his face. I held my breath.

  He said, “What the—”

  Then he fell to the ground. The knockout powder had done its work. I knew the effects wouldn’t last long; in fact, I was lucky that he wasn’t immune. But I wasted no time tying him up.

  When he was properly bound, I went to his desk and shuddered. The dolls were clad in assassins’ robes. At least half of the dolls were stabbed with a pin each: one in the head, another through the heart, or jabbed in the neck or in the stomach.

  This was Gregum’s way of keeping track of those he had hunted down and how they’d died.

  What type of animal would remember his kills this way?

  I unrolled one scroll and saw a list of names. Many of them had lines through them. I rolled it and the second scroll on his desk up and stuffed them into the long pockets of my cloak.

  The dolls made me sick, but I paused long enough to count them. There were twelve. If each represented an assassin, Gregum had killed eight in the four weeks since we graduated. Each assassin who had escaped the graduation night massacre was being hunted down one by one. And those who hadn’t attended that night were no safer.

  I wanted to twist his neck until it was broken. I grabbed a doll—a girl doll with red hair—and stuffed it into my pocket.

  “You aren’t Corwin.”

  The voice made me shudder. I turned. He was awake already! If he’d been extra clever, he would have hidden that fact until he could wriggle out of the ropes.

  “No. I’m not.” I kept my voice deep.

  “You tricked me. For that I’ll eat your liver.”

  I chuckled at his threat and kept the chuckle deep. “You’d find it bitter.”

  “How do you know Scyllia and Corwin?”

  “I studied all of you. In fact I w
as going to hire you after graduation.”

  This gave him pause. “Truly?”

  “You are the strongest. The best.”

  He smiled, showing large white teeth. “Well, perhaps I won’t eat your liver,” he said.

  “And I won’t eat yours,” I replied. “We have a deal.”

  “I still must kill you. Corwin’s orders.” He shrugged those massive shoulders. “I’ll make it quick since you think so highly of me.”

  “How kind of you,” I said. “Corwin will betray you. You can’t trust that one. That’s why I wouldn’t hire him.”

  “You’re wrong. He rewards his kin.”

  I was his kin! I nearly shouted.

  “He rewards those who have the same heart,” Gregum continued. “And he has so many plans, and there is a place in those plans for me. A big place. I wouldn’t want to work with you. Ever.”

  I hadn’t concluded what to do with him. He had been involved in the massacre of the Red Assassins, and he would continue to sow destruction if I didn’t kill him. And to kill him would also stop him from passing anything he had learned about me to Corwin.

  “Why would you hide your face?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly visible in the moonlight. “I know you. That’s why you're wearing a mask. If you took it off, I’d recognize you.”

  There was a corporthium pill in my third pocket. It would put him in a coma. The people who came out of that deep sleep lost their memories. Forever.

  He had a family. He had riches. They would care for him as he became someone else.

  It was just a matter of pulling back his head and shoving it down his throat.