Chapter 53: NO TRACES

AUTHOR'S NOTE - You are reading this chapter prior to the final draft for public release. This will be updated with the final version once i

AUTHOR'S NOTE - You are reading this chapter prior to the final draft for public release. This will be updated with the final version once it is complete. As always, we'd love to hear any feedback you might have! Thank you again for continuing this journey!

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It was hard to determine whether the morning sun had risen or not by the time they finished the grim task of clearing the scene. Thankfully, the soldier had accomplished much of the backbreaking work of dragging the horses bodies closer to the cliff’s edge. Piling the bodies into the wagon, they secured the rear door, hitched the mounts to the wagon and pushed. After a momentary pause and a little added muscles, gravity did the worst. The tumbling wagon disappeared into the darkness of the ravine. The sounds of splintering wood and splash were quickly overwhelmed by the roaring of the river.

None had received a scratch from the fight, yet their clothing was stained with blood. Some would wash in the rain, while the rest would be a trivial detail soon. By the time the rest area slipped out of sight as they rounded the next corner all traces of the tumultuous event had been erased by the rain. The gradually declining terrain meant that they had crossed the worst of the pass, the section ahead descending until it reached the plains of Shial.

The rain that had followed them throughout the night only increased as the sun rose crested the mountains. Even though they could see the hint of a glow, the words around them was covered in a treacherous grey haze, limiting visibility to only a few dozen meters at best. With the need for rest outweighing speed or stealth, they abandoned the track, cutting into the mountains at the first relative break in the rain. Thankfully, the jagged intersection of the two mountain ranges provided ample places for them to conceal their presence while they rested.

A few hundred meters of rough terrain brought them to the opening of a narrow cave along the sheer face of one of the peaks that towered overhead. The fissure in the wall, thin at first sloped upward until it widened into a cave nearly a dozen meters wide. Protected from the pervasive elements and hidden from sight, this would be an ideal location to bed down for a spell. Exactly how many miles they had stalked through the mountains was unclear yet the downslope proved that they had crossed the peak. The weather at the moment was the greatest inhibitor to their progress. With the inability to see beyond the next corner they could easily run into a patrol before they knew it was upon them. It was decided that would rest here in shifts, departing again sometime after mid-day, providing the rain and sleet agreed.

Traveling in the company of assassins was a peculiar experience. There was an unspoken code among the killers that the priority of the mark superseded any petty rivalries or motivations. Killing another assigned to the same task was strictly forbidden, though on occasion, it happened. That their order originated from the King would have carried greater weight. They all served the Kingdom, were sworn to protect the realm at all costs. They had not been tasked to merely eliminate a dissident, there was far more at stake. Killing Warlord Trufang was a critical step in allowing the necessary food to flow into Halthome as well as disrupting a plot that was far more insidious than he’d expected.

Risens trusted none of the group that had been assigned to his command. There were a few, who he strongly believed had no intention of slitting his throat the moment his eyes shut. As such, he paired Bakka and Destra with the others to guard in shifts while the rested. He would take the first watch with Korpis, while Bakka and Feylen would relieve them. Orio and Destra would be the last. Rest would come in light, perilous spurts. He was thankful that he was an incredible light sleeper.

There was something about the mission, a peculiarity about the task at hand that had troubled his mind the further they traveled into the mountains. Though all the assassins were skilled, it seemed as if they had been chosen by closing ones eyes and blindly stabbing at a listing of the names of available killers. Beyond that there was the road itself. The weather had been miserable from the start, yet even if it had been clear the journey would have been considerable. Moving grain and foodstuffs over the pass would be a considerable undertaking and then what? How would it then be distributed to the citizens who needed it the most? The largest cities, Windwake in particular were hundreds of miles distant from where Breakker’s Pass would deposit the supplied in Halthome.

Tamping down his mounting annoyance with the thought, he revived a mantra that he’d adopted as a youth.

An assassin never questions the order, only acts as bidden.

Something about the old adage felt wrong in the present moment. He adjusted his cloak and cowl readying himself to exit back into the rain. Straightening his belt, his hand brushed against the handle of the talons.

“Idiot. Your ignorant devotion to that which is false will see you dead.”

The hissing voice, accompanied by urge to kill quickly devolved into a mad cackle. The echoes bounded through his mind even after he pulled his hands away from the blades.

“Korpis, you’ve with me,” he grumbled, his voice harsher that he anticipated owing to his mounting frustration. “Even if you can scrounge tinder and wood, no fires. We rest in shifts of three hours at most. Do not forget, the Trufang’s soldiers are not the only thing to hunt these mountains.”

“True, but when will the servants be here with wine?” Destra chimed in as he slipped through the crevice, the silent assassin stalking at his heels.

Judging by the rising smudge of brightening sky through the clouds and rain, the rocky face of the mountain where they sought shelter faced in a southerly direction. It was nearly midday yet range around them was shrouded in a churning mass of muted greys. For a hundred meters of so to his right, the base of the cliff was a maze of rocks, tossed from the heights above. Without warning, the winding passages through the broken boulders ended in a sheer drop off. A fall from here would lethal. None would ever find the body.

Thankfully, there were plenty of jagged outcroppings to block most of the rain. Motionless, dressed in the drab, muted colors of their assigned gear they blended into the mountains like gargoyle hidden among the rock. In silence he crouched under the protection of the stone, close enough to watch the entrance to their hide, the avenues one could approach but more importantly, the wordless assassin a few meters to his side. He chuckled at himself as he realised the position he’d naturally adopted was strikingly similar to the way Mother Raven perched on the stones of the Raven’s Court.

Time dragged on a Risens watched the rain soaked terrain in silence. The steady rush of the small waterfalls pouring off the cliff face was accentuated every so often by the sharp cracking of falling rocks as the cliff shed the loose of excess stones. Beyond scouring the normal avenues of approach for movement, his eyes were routinely trained skyward. They still had no clear indication of what had ravaged the outpost.

Whatever it was had left no spores of its movement, yet the damage was devastating. They had heard the terrified wails on the wind, confusing it for the sounds of the storm. It the patrol had hastened back at the commotion but it was the blades of his assassins that had cut them down. Even as close as they had been to the massacre, they had continued without incident beyond those of their own making.

They would have been easy prey for something with the strength to destroy an entire outpost without leaving a trace. 

Was it following them?

Had the second outpost already fallen?

Unless whatever it was had ulterior plans, the questions would likely have to wait until their return trip.

The rain lessened significantly as the morning wore on. The steady stream of water crashing on the stones around them stones had decreased into the distinguishable patter of the individual droplets. Though it had yet to make its presence known in full, the sun struggled to peek out from behind the thinning rain clouds. His vision had increased steadily as the rain thinned, yet he still couldn’t make out any of the Breakker’s Pass that cut through the mountains.

Quiet footsteps on the rocks shifted his sweeping focus back toward the entrance to their temporary lodging. Bakka crept carefully on the stones. He nodded as he approached, keeping his hands well away from the blades strapped to his hips.

“Quiet morning?” He whispered as he approached, ducking under the low shelf of stone that had kept Risens relatively dry throughout the night. He stopped purposefully just beyond his anticipated reach of his blades. “I know I’m early, but there is nothing I despise more than sleeping in a room full of assassins. We take enough risks in this life of ours as it is. Plus, Destra snoring could wake the dead. I’m surprised no one’s put a knife through his throat by now.”

Risens watched the man carefully as he whispered. The was a calm quietness about his personality that was disproportional to the deadly life that he lead.

“It sounds bizarre saying it, yet there is a loyal man behind the bravado.” Bakka spoke in hushed tones loud enough only for him to hear. He watched their surroundings with a look of calculating scrutiny. Risens was pleased as he saw his vision paused on many of the same feature, avenues one might use for an attack, or more importantly ones they could use for a hasty escape if needed. The longest pause was unsurprising, and it was somewhere that vision returned often. “He’s exceptionally deadly as many who’ve underestimated him based purely on his character. Feylen, as she calls herself now is a known to me as well. It’s the sword that gives her away. The assessment is nothing you haven’t figure out but she is more than capable.”

“You’re well-informed,” Risens noted. The hint of a smile that tugged up on his lips was honest though he stifled it before it could blossom further.

“With all due respect, not all of us enjoy the solitude of your work, it seems,” he grinned. “It’s typical for us to work in teams, depending on the work at hand, that is. Halthome isn’t overly large for those of us who are disposable. Guess we’re just the lucky ones to survive.”

His gaze lingered for a moment before sweeping across the slowly resolving vista that spread out before him. The distinct hitch in his watch stopped exactly where Risen’s expected it to.

“The other two are unknown to me, though they have a familiarity that isn’t developed overnight,” he whispered. “Curious, don’t you think?”

Curious wan’t the first word to spring to mind as the alarm bells of warning sounded throughout his mind.