Date: Fri, 25 Jan 2013 03:48:09 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 16 - The Assassin's Apprentice - Gay Science Fiction

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      My website: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html
      My email: kavrik@hotmail.com
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      You will find a full color picture of Kian and Constantine on my art
page.

      "The Assassin's Apprentice" is told in first person present tense and
has been heavily edited.

      If you like my writing, please review "Slipstream" and "Oculus" on
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                                 *****

                               Chapter 16

      "If we don't," I whisper, "we'll be caught for sure and hung for
thievery."

      My mind races for ideas. As I always do when puzzled, I look around
me for inspiration.  That's when I see it, a movement from inside the
museum. I prod Talen in the ribs with my elbow.

      "I see it too," he says. "But, how did they get past that t-thing?"

      "I-I don't know," I answer, and then I have an epiphany. "But I bet
they didn't feed it."

      I can feel Talen's eyes on me even though I can't see him.

      "Wait here," I say. "I've got an idea."

      "Be careful, Kian," he cautions. "One strike from that stinger means
death."

      I move cautiously away from him, trying my best to be absolutely
silent. I also pray that my sweating body remains undetectable. I'm
relieved when a slight breeze blows away from the beast even though I've no
absolute certainty that the magnificent creature can detect me by any means
other than sight or noise.

      Following the curve of the wall, I eventually come across the guards
in white mail armor. I study them a moment and approach like a cat stalking
a mouse. Someone has taken a great deal of care in making them appear
alert.

      They're not dead, but drugged.

      I grab one of them and settle him down easily. I unbuckle his
breastplate and slide it to the ground. Then, I slit his throat and move my
feet back so as to not get any blood on myself. Recalling my anatomy, I
plunge my dagger into his ribcage and cut away, looking for his heart.
After a minute, I find the thing, but gods is this grisly work. I pull it
free, still beating, and secure it in a cloth bag before returning to
Talen.

      "Are you all right?" he asks. "You're dripping in blood for god's
sakes."

      "It's not mine," I say in a matter-of-fact tone.

      That shuts him up; I only wish I could see the expression on his
face. Maybe I want to see if he fears me. I've never frightened anyone in
my life. But I've killed four people now in the same night, so obviously,
things change. And each kill is getting easier to do. This last one was
butcher's work, really. He could just as easily have been a goat.

      I pull out the man's heart and take out my vial of caasak. The heart
feels eerily hot in my hand and blood still oozes from it. Our hiding place
is so dark, I'll need to rely mostly on instinct. A single spilled drop is
fatal. I decide to switch gloves because the blood makes my fingers sticky.

      "Please step away from me a bit," I warn Talen.

      He obliges.

      With expertise, I administer two drops of poison into the heart and
then put the caasak away. Next, I creep to the edge of the foliage and toss
the blood-soaked bundle out onto the ground.

      The manticore responds by cocking its head and strides over to it to
paw at the package.  Though his face appears human, the creature has a maw
filled with sharp needle-like teeth.  It lowers its sniffer to the ground,
punting the package with its chin, and licking the outside with a
serpentine tongue.

      A moment later, the poison takes effect. The airborne toxicity of
caasak surprises even me.  Within a few seconds, the creature
collapses. Its tail uncoils. It howls once before black foam streams from
between its lips.

      Talen hurries from his hiding place and joins me. "That's quite
splendid," he says with a spring in his step. "I'm going to ask you about
that stuff later. Just be warned."

      "And I won't tell you anything," I reply. "You don't need to be
playing around with it. It requires extreme concentration and training just
to handle."

      "And you think you're the only one capable of that?"

      "That's not what I mean," I say defensively.

      I can tell he wants to argue with me, but this just isn't the time or
the place.

      I gesture for him to enter the museum through one of the narrow
little side windows. I move over to the door and check it to see if it's
locked. As I suspect, the lock's already been picked.  As a precaution I
oil the hinges. Then I unsheathe my katana and use the handle to push on
one of the doors. It swings inward with ease. I only need a few inches
clearance to slide in, and I'm careful to avoid touching anything with any
part of me that might have blood on it.

      I slip into the shadows, carrying my blade before me. Up ahead, in
the next gallery, I spy a light shining down upon a table where a satin
cushion's been placed.  The light has golden sparkles in it so I know
magic's involved.

      More importantly, the cushions hold five sacks of jewels.

      I settle in next to a large sarcophagus that I'm sure is just a
display piece for some exhibit (rather than the real deal) and I watch. The
room is not empty, but it takes me a while to spot the first person. Later,
I count two more, as well as the rope they used to descend from the
ceiling. One of them grabs a hold of it and test the golden light by
thrusting one end toward the edge. The light incinerates the exposed
portion of rope, not even leaving enough dust to choke upon.

      "There has to be another way," one man sneers. He's wearing an eye
patch, and he walks with a slight limp. I note that he's in his mid-forties
maybe even early fifty's.

      Could this be the Black Prince that the others spoke of before I
killed them?

      While I wait, I look for Talen, but of course I don't see him. I
wouldn't have desired him as my boyfriend if I didn't think he was
exceptional. But, it would be nice to at least know if he made it inside.

      At my first opportunity, I lift myself from my hiding place and
approach the room with the jewels in it. My feet fall silently on the
polished marble floor, and I stoop to avoid the frame of a gargantuan
velvet picture of ferns and trees embracing an otherworldly sunrise.

      Once clear, I slide behind a statue of the Goddess Khaal. It stands
atop an aquamarine plinth. It holds her in such a way as to make her appear
as if she's just risen from ocean foam. Her face is striking in its detail,
from the fine, unmoving lines around her mouth to the exquisitely rendered
features of her alabaster skin. The work is beautiful, and I recall the
legend of the water goddess with clarity. It is said that all the waters of
Wynwrayth did not used to be blue but were in fact as clear as a teardrop
in your hand.  But dissatisfied with a colorless sea, the goddess took from
her eyes the deepest blue and gave it to all the waters of the world. Thus,
artists always depicted her with clear eyes, or in the case of this
sculpture, having no eyes at all.

      In front of me, one of the guards walks over to the statue and sits
down on the marble plinth. He's so close; I can smell the stink of his
festering armpits. The Black Prince and his other assistant study the
dilemma before them. "Call me when you figure it out," the guy with the
smelly armpits says.

      The Black Prince glances up from the sparkling golden light and
regards his henchmen with a searing contempt. Then he turns back to the
light and the bags of jewels.

      With his attention averted, it's easy for me to place my hand over
smelly's mouth and slit his throat. This assassin business is bloody
work. His life flees and his body goes limp in my hands within just a few
seconds. Unfortunately, his left arm drops and strikes the marble floor.

      I'm not expecting this.

      He's wearing a ring on his wedding finger, and the gold makes an
audible clap as all gold does, when it hits something else. Under any other
circumstance, I might pause long enough to admire it, but this isn't the
time for such appreciation.

      The Black Prince holds up his hand.

      "Spugnois?" he calls out.  "If this is some trick, I'll slit your
throat myself."

      He turned to his other lackey and moves his fingers rapidly in the
cant.

      ~Go check it out.~

      Typical coward, I think to myself. Send others to do your work. I let
Spugnois drop and pick up my katana, readying myself for battle from the
shadows.

      The other man withdraws a serrated knife and steps cautiously into
the corridor where I wait for him. I brace myself against the wall and push
myself up onto a narrow ledge, holding my weight carefully suspended
between my backside and my feet.  He's studying the ground, I presume, for
traces of blood. When he's in position, I leap down on him and cut him
across the back.

      He cries out, slashing at me with his knife.

      I kick him against the statue and lop off his head, sending a
fountain of blood spewing about the floor and onto the walls of the
gallery.

      Deftly, I roll away from him and face the man called "One Eye," by
some and "The Black Prince" by others.

      He regards me with fear, backing away from the table, waving his
weapon protectively in front of him. "And we meet again, Constantine, but
under much different circumstances. Before, it was you who bested me, who
took out the life from my left eye. But I've studied with the world's best
and have now collected over forty kills."

      I look on him with silence.

      He swallows nervously. "Oh, I don't want to kill you Constantine," he
gloats. "Merely to leave you as you left me: with half the world to see. To
leave you scarred and hideous to behold."  He pulls off his eye patch,
revealing the empty socket, the sunken and useless scarred flesh, and the
cut that almost claimed his life some three years ago.

      He starts to grin.

      I notice a movement rise up behind the Black Prince of Ladika. Before
I have a chance to react, Talen creeps up on him and loops a garrotte
around his neck. One Eye, still grinning, snatches at the piano wire, but
it's too late.  Blood flows over his shirt and Talen drops him like a sack
of wet mice.  "I'm sorry Kian, but he's talking entirely too much."

      I run over to him, seeing a bit of blood appear on his shirt. Talen
rolls up his sleeve and shows me a small cut he must have gotten in the
scuffle, but for the most part, he's fine.

      "That was incredibly stupid," I chastise him. "What if the blade had
been poisoned? You'd be dying right now."

      "It wasn't poisoned, I'm not dying, and I saved your life," Talen
says. "This was the Black Prince of Ladika, and by my last count, he had
more kills than you. That makes him more dangerous, and I wasn't about to
lose my boyfriend tonight to the likes of him."

      I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. You got hurt. I wouldn't have
gotten hurt."

      "You don't know that," Talen says, covering his arm once more.

      I pause. Really, I'm infuriated because the Black Prince was supposed
to be MY KILL. But I'm not about to admit this. However, the next instant
just confirms that I should know better than to keep my true feelings
hidden from Talen.

      "You're just mad cause I killed the uber baddy and you just killed
his henchmen," Talen taunts.

      Now he looks entirely too smug. I'll never live this down. "I'm not,
and he isn't...correction, wasn't an uber baddy. So don't even brag about
this. And I would have killed him just as fast only you didn't give me a
chance."

      "And I suppose you just want me to wait around while you figure out a
way to kill someone when I can do it perfectly well?"

      "There's no arguing with you," I reply; my cheeks feel hot. Then my
eyes fall once again to his bloody sleeve. "Let's bandage you up before it
gets infected." I start to reach for him but he moves his arm away.

      He says, "No time. It just smarts a bit. Grab the jewels and let's
get out of here."

      I look at him, my eyes softening. "Talen, stop kidding around. Let's
get that cut dressed."

      He nods. "I-it isn't exactly pleasant, but it can wait. Honestly,
Kian, I'm fine."

      I swallow, realizing that I probably wouldn't react like this if he
wasn't my lover. It's not appropriate, so I force myself to treat him
professionally and walk over to the table. It takes only a moment's thought
before the obvious occurs to me. I reach under the table where the golden
light can't shine and pull on it, hence removing it from the trap. I put
the jewels in a black sack and tie it off twice. As an afterthought, I grab
an ivory case off of the satin cushion.

      This is for Constantine.

      Talen sees me take it, but I'll be damned if I'll raise a hand
against my friend. Constantine can go fuck himself if he thinks that will
happen.

      I turn back to Talen, but he's already testing the rope which still
hangs from an open skylight above.

      "Why didn't we think of this?" he asks.

      I shrug my shoulders and climb the rope after Talen, snaking it
around one leg and pulling with my hands.  He's a remarkable athlete, and
before I even realize it, he's disappeared over the lip of the skylight
above me. I reach up and grasp hold of the ceiling to pull my dangling body
the rest of the way up. I see him a few feet away. He, like me, is crouched
over and breathing heavily from the exertion. Deftly, I cut the rope and
drop it onto the floor below.

      "We can't leave without Ambrell," I tell Talen.

      He agrees.

      I can smell a faint taint in the air and realize he's bleeding more
than he wants to let on. I hand him a clean cloth, and he presses a bandage
to his side where he's also been knicked.  "Should we go back after Wriln
and Logren?" he asks. My eyes fall to his waist where I see he's packed
away a curious looking book that he must have found in the museum. It looks
bound in ancient leather.  When he notices me eyeballing it, he quickly
turns away.

      I think about his question for a moment. "We might need Logren's
strength. And Wriln's proven himself to be very useful."

      Talen winces. "It's settled then. Let's go and get her."

      I take the lead, walking to the edge of the roof. I see a motion from
the guard tower wall and freeze in place, waiting for the sentry to pass.
We don't have much time before someone notices that the manticore's dead. I
leap off the building and land with sure feet on the stones below, and I
hardly make a sound. Talen grimaces and leaps after me, landing with the
same skill. Both of us vanish quickly into the overgrowth and scale the
wall once we find it. I let him go first, giving him a boost on my
shoulders. I wait a moment for him to position himself atop the guard
walk. Then he lowers his right hand, and I leap up, take hold of it, and
pull myself up.

      On the other side, we stop to catch our breath.

      Someone cries out in the dark, and I hear a bell ring on the other
side of the museum wall.  The alarm's been raised.

      Talen and I look at each other and take off at a sprint, stopping to
cling to the shadows at any noise or sign of someone approaching.  We avoid
the park, hoping to foil pursuit by skirting around it to where Logren and
Wriln patiently await.

      Wriln, I believe, spies us first.  "Ycome, ycome," he says excitedly.

      Logren puts a heavy hand on Talen's shoulder.

      "It's all right," Talen assures him.  "It's only a couple of flesh
wounds." He turns to Wriln.  "Take us to the old temple down by the sea."
The small furry man nods and slides back into the hole we'd squeezed
through earlier.

      "Ys," Wriln says. "Fyllow Wriln m' Lordynges."

      We descend into the depths once more, this time choosing a different
passage through the earth. As an alternate, it's also dry, but it's also
obstructed with large ornate spider webs.  There's nothing like the feeling
of webs brushing up against your face in the dark to send chills down your
spine.

      Soon, I see a light from somewhere ahead. As I draw closer to the
source, I note that it comes from a large crack in the roof. Directly above
us are many voices raised in prayer, but one rises above all.  In a low
whisper, Talen informs me we are underneath the old temple.  When I listen
carefully enough, I indeed can hear the roar of the sea.

      The ocean must be very close.

      "Arise," a female voice commands, "arise, spawn of Zandine, Lord of
Illusion. Arise servant of the hereafter. I call to thee in the name of
Darkness and bind thee to this earth. I, Kahket, of the Black Hand, give to
thee and thy kine the required sacrifice of thirty souls. Now, ye must
answer my summons and of the task I shall put to ye!"

      The earth shakes a bit; dust filters down upon my face from the crack
above. Then, I see ice form on everything. The air grows chill as if all
the moisture is being pulled from it. Despite the sudden onset of cold,
we're all riveted, listening to the sound of Kahket's chanting.

      Then there follows a tremendous silence.

      "Curses to thee, sorceress," a hideous voice replies. It's unlike
anything I've heard before, seemingly a combination of three or four
dialects.  "I shall rend thy flesh from bone and the horrors I shall heap
upon thee will be known as the torments of infinite pain. Haughty witch, I
obey thy summons and to the prayer of Zandine. Speak, and let this meeting
come to an end!"

      "Constantine has come to this city.  He's brought with him the legacy
of 'Bloodbane'. I command thee to bring him before me and to tell me what I
must know of the lost island of the Unslaking Thirst."

      There's a brief silence.

      "Nay, witch. Constantine is not within the city, nor has he come this
night to bring thee the map and the tome. The soul of the Black Prince
feeds us and his failure is sweet in his blood. The agony of his screams
are never-ending!"

      "Impossible," Kahket declares. "Who's done this deed?"

      There's the sound of teeth scraping over scales, and I want to move
but a vast pressure on my mind makes me unable to think or act.

      "He's a hunter, witch," the voice taunts. "You shall know him in
time. As for the island, the eye of blood shall break the enchantments that
keep it hidden from the world. What you seek lies there still, as it has
been for ages past."

      "Tell me where I can find him... this hunter!"

      "Look to the earth.  I have spoken."

      It seems like something releases me then, and I stagger backward into
Talen's arms.

      I see shadows flickering against the wall from topside as figures
dart back and forth in pandemonium following the visitation of the thing
with no name.

      Kahket curses. "Look to the earth, it says. I spill the blood of
thirty men, and I'm given riddles? I need those jewels. I should never have
trusted that blundering oaf calling himself the 'Black Prince' of Ladika."
She paces back and forth in the dirt above me. "Someone bring me my
hairbrush. I always think better when I'm brushing my hair."

      "Yes mistress," a male voice says.

      Talen grabs my hand and indicates that Wriln has uncovered a small
breach in the tunnel; it leads into darkness.  I follow behind Talen with
Logren behind me. We creep in the darkness for a hundred paces until we
find a dimly-lit octagonal room that's only four feet across.  A little
light seeps through cracks embedded in the limestone walls; above my head's
a large boulder. This octagonal chamber must be a well of some kind,
probably used in a rite of baptism having to do with the sea goddess.

      Talen scrambles onto the rock face, placing his fingers in nooks
along its well-worn surface.  After a moment, he gazes down at me, ear
pressed to one of the cracks in the wall.  "I hear Ambrell," he
says. "She's close."

      "Is she alone?" I ask.

      "Hard to tell," he says. "I'll try to get her attention."

      Talen removes a dagger and pries at one of the cracks, loosening the
sand and dirt with his dagger. Slowly, a little more light starts to spill
in.

      "Ambrell," he calls out.  Unsuccessful, he chances a slight whistle.

      "Talen," I hear her answer. "Is that you?"

      "Yes.  We're underneath the large rock."

      "You've got to get me out of here, Talen."

      "We're trying.  Say, can you describe the room to us."

      I hear her sniff, wiping her nose. "It's small, there's a well of
some kind. The ceiling's fallen down, and I can see the stars. The walls
are polished marble. I can't climb them, and it's more than a hundred feet
up. There's no one else here, though a guard is posted on the other side of
the door."

      Talen sighs.  "She's alone."  He put his dagger away and presses his
hands against the ceiling.  "No good, it's too heavy."

      I move to help him when Logren stands up, stretching his full
height. He lays his cadel in the dust and braces his hands against the
rock.  Grinding his teeth together, his muscles ripple under his
flesh. Slowly...incredibly...the half-giant slides the rock to one side.

      Talen winks, hops into the room above. A moment later, she appears
next to him at the lip of the well. She jumps and I catch her. "Oh, Kian,"
she says, throwing her arms around my neck. "I was so scared."

      Talen joins us, and a moment later, Logren moves the rock back into
place.

      "Elliot is dead! Swift lives still, but I don't know where they're
holding him. When we were brought in without the jewels, Kahket went
absolutely livid. Lyran's deathly afraid of her."

      "Are we going to get Swift?" Talen asks.

      I pause, biting my lip.  "No, we cut our losses here."

      Ambrell turns a pasty white, but she holds her tongue.

      I turn to Wriln. "You need to get us out of the city in the fastest
way possible."

      The gleeful furling claps his hands together. "Trust Wriln," he says,
"Trust me lordynges."

      And with that, he turns back toward the tunnel from whence we emerged
and disappears into the darkness.

      We follow in his wake.

                                    *****

      I shall post Chapter 17 next week