Chapter 59: DEATH

Risens slowed to walk as the calls of the assassins repeated. Bakka and Destra, who had remained with him matched his slackened pace.

“If you task was only to end the Warlord’s life, then I release you from you duty. Your quest has been completed,” he offered. “Return to wherever it is that you hail.”

Their vision met for a moment, conveying whatever unspoken message that passed between them.

“I for one have no desire to pick a fight with the King’s Rightmaker,” Destra grinned.

“Neither do I,” Bakka added. There was a disarming sincerity to his voice. The following words surprised him.

“We can stay. We can fight at your side,” he continued.

It was a sentiment that was unexpected, eliciting conflicting feeling. He believed that the pair were entirely honest in their statement, yet it was no a chance he was willing to take. Fighting in the open against two of what he expected to be the most competent assassins in the realm would be complicated. Having to be on guard for the duplicity of any additional number would be a distraction that could prove lethal.

“No. You’ve served the crown admirably,” Risens added. “This is not your fight. Travel safely. May the shadows hide you.”

Both men seemed to be torn at his words. He watched them carefully knowing how they responded would likely prove the truth of fallacy of their claims. Their indecision ended with a nod and a salute, the closed fist over their heart. Casting a quick glance at the approaching assassins, they turned away, jogging down the sloping track.

Focusing his attention on the approach of Orio and Feylen, Risens shifted to the inner edge of the track, putting his side close to the edge of a large boulder. With his back against the rock, he would force the fight to stay in front of him, while giving the the ability to pushed them back toward the precipice of loose stone before the fatal drop over the edge.

“Why did you abandon us, Rightmaker?” Orio screamed as the closed within a few dozen meters. “You abandoned the bond the bond that you claimed to uphold, that tied us to the mission. You left Korpis for dead and fled up the pass.”

The assassins split up fanning out across the track.

“Do you take me for a fool, Orio?” Risens growled. “Korpis confirmed the true intent of your purpose. The Warlord’s death was merely the ruse to separate me from the castle, to overpower me on unfamiliar soil. I have the orders, sealed by the King’s own hand.”

“Where is he?” There was an unexpected depth of emotion in Feylen’s vicious growl. He chuckled as he formed the connections that had to this point been obscured. She and Korpis were connected by more than merely profession. Whether they were lovers or kin, it mattered not. The truth of Trufang’s honest reply was confirmed.

The King knew all too well what Risens was capable of. He had never intended that the trio of assassins be alone in his demise. The outposts in the mountains were there as reinforcements. The signals, the flares that lit the night’s sky had been meant to alert them of the approach of their target. They had gone unnoticed as none still lived to receive the call.

“It was you who left him behind in the village,” Risens spat, knowing full well the response he was about to garner. The talons cackled with delighted glee as they fed off his intent. “I suppose it would have been difficult carrying him this whole way though. At least I separated his head from his body, so you could have split the weight.”

Feylen twitched with anger as she let out a scream, an ear-piercing blend of sheer rage and utter devastation. Disregarding their subtle preparation, she plowed forward, negating their plan to bring the battle from both sides.

Risens whipped the talons from their sheathes gritting his teeth as the bore the brunt of her vicious, emotional attack. His slid back into the rough stone from the force of her blow. Her strength was incredible. She was a force to be reckoned with, yet the current unraveling of her emotions would be her undoing.

Sparks flashed over his head as her second strike stuck the stone not his skull. Stone shrapnel rained down over his hood as he rolled out of the way. Her screams turned from rage to pain as his blade dragged across the back of her leg. With wild bellow, she threw her sword in a desperate attempt to skewer him where he stood.

The timer marking the talons decreased another digit as he slapped her twisting javelin away with an errant slap. The steel, pitted from the force of striking the stone skipped harmlessly across the stone roadway. The talons screamed in his mind, demanding her blood, yet they were robbed of their kill as the steel punched through her chest.

Orio ripped the dagger from her back, kicking her bleeding body to the stone. Instead of pressing the attack he backed off a few paces leaving ample room between himself and Risens.

“You’re proving more challenging to kill than expected, Rightmaker,” he grumbled. His blade, dripping with blood was still pointed menacingly at him, yet his other hand fished through the pocket of his cloak. “If you would just die, I could be rid of this cursed mountain. Perhaps the King will grant me your title after I bring him your head.”

“Three of you together have failed,” he retorted, shifting away from Feylen’s body toward the middle of the road. “The outpost have been decimated. What makes you think that you along stand against me?”

Orio grinned as he continued backing up along the road, his hand continuing to fumble inside the pocket of his cloak. That he fished around for some prepared trickery was clear, though Risens wasn’t entirely sure what he had prepared.

The sudden keening note carried on the wind stopped both of them them in their tracks. It was unexpected as it was unnatural, sounding like a mixture of the screeching of birds and the howl of a feral beast. The sound ended abruptly with a subtle popping noise that he felt reverberate though his feet.

Recovering from the sudden distraction, Orio removed his hand from his cloak, flashing the object ominously in the air. Risens groaned as he noted the mageVial held between his.index finger and thumb. He’d faced the challenges of far too many of these in the last several days, he had no desire to deal with any more. His patience as with his faith in the King was crumbling rapidly.

The distant grumbling that sounded in this ears was alarming. Only too recently, he’d heard the noise as the face of one of the adjacent peaks had separated in the aftershocks of the earthquake. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the icy pinnacle of the mountain that loomed over Breakker’s Pass shift as it detached from the cliff.

Noting the change, much of the bluster that fueled Orio’s movements and attitude fade. With a snarl, he reared his arm back, preparing to throw the vial toward where Risens stood.

As fast as the assassin could act, he was faster. Snapping his arm out in front of him, he released his hold on the talon in his right hand. The blade spun end over end as it screamed through the air. In his mind he pled with the blade to follow its course as death was not what he currently sought. Making a final rotation, the tangent of the knife held true as it sliced through the wrist of the assassin.

His limp hand, still clutching the mageVial flopped to the ground. The blade sparked as it his the stone while the glass vial shattered.

Pain competed with the sudden look of terror for control over Orio’s face. From where the mageVial had shattered a thin cloud of grey smoke covered the ground. He tried to jump out of the way as the mist darkened with a loud snapping noise before disappearing from view.

With blood pouring from the stump where his hand once remained the assassin struggled to move his feet yet his motions were met with only frustration. The binding vial, meant to assure his victory would be his demise.

To the north, off t he side of the pass, the views of the mountain peak that Breakker’s Pass wrapped around and the surrounding range was lost behind a wall snow and ice that choked the air. The thunder of its approach became deafening. There was no time for Risens to run. Darting back across the track he pressed his body against the boulder, curling up to make his profile as small as possible. The vanguard of the avalanche stuck at the back of his tenuous hiding place as soon as he tucked behind its cover.

Stones, some as large as his fist, with others several times larger than his body bounded by. They skipped off the surface of the track before careening over the edge of the defile. Pleading for his life, Risens watched as Orio was pummeled hist with smaller chunk of rock and debris. His body, rooted to the ground had no means of defending or shifting from the punishing blows. A vicious hit to his shoulder spun his torso to the side. Risens lost sight of the assassin as a massive boulder spun him further. His screams were drowned out by the deafening thunder of the avalanche as the wall of snow and ice slammed into his shelter. In the moment of clarity before it struck, inly stumps of legs remained where the assassin had once stood.

Risens relished in the joy of his success for only a moment. He had foiled the plot to end his life, again. His celebration was short lived as the rock he crouched behind shifted under the force of the wall of ice and snow. The reality of his situation took hold.

He had outlived the King’s killer’s yet it would be the snow that did him in. None of the skills or equipment he’d earned earned so far would aid him or protect him from what was to come. With a violent shudder the stone gave way, the snap of it shearing into pieces was only a whisper under the roar that enveloped him.

Risens was tossed mercilessly into the flow of snow and ice. The world around him was enveloped in a dirty wash of white, pain and cold. His vision swam as the side of his head connected with stone. Whether it was the ground or something caught in the avalanche, he neither knew nor cared. It mattered not anymore.

Another dizzying blow and cruel world spun far quicker than his body twisted uncontrollably in the avalanche. His world, which had been shrouded in shadows for much of his life, fell into a utter darkness.

In the final moments before conciousness faded and his life ended, he felt clear and distinct pain. Along his shoulders and his arms he felt like dozens of claws stabbed into his skin before he felt no more.