by Jeffery A. Sergent
in Issue 137, June 2023
The prince must die.
It was the same old story: upstart youth threatened beloved sovereign. Chaos and confusion threatened the stability of the realm. Murder and mayhem ensue. Rape and ruin. People die.
Lots of people usually.
The trouble with these situations is they never ended well. The king, queen, or whoever died, true, but the merchants, the laborers, the common folk – they’re the ones who suffered.
Oh, well. It’d been done many times in the past and would no doubt be done many more times in the future.
With one last effort, Jade heaved herself onto the crenelated wall. She rested a moment, dangling her legs over the edge, combing back her shoulder-length raven hair with both hands, hating the sweat that beaded on the back of her neck.
Even beneath the light of the gibbous moon, the blues, reds, and golds of the broad buildings and slender minarets glistened. Windows shimmered like stars cast upon the earth. This was Guzel Yan, the Glittering City.
Below, thegolge still followed, but he stopped the instant Jade looked at him, clinging to the wall like some kind of gigantic insect. Too bad he wasn’t trying to conceal himself anymore. That’d been fun at least.
“It’d be a shame for the world to lose this sight,” she said to him. “It’s so beautiful.”
She spoke the trade tongue, but thegolge offered no reply. He never did. He wouldn’t. His task was to observe and nothing more.
“You really should take a look when you get up here. I know I’ll probably never see this place again once I leave, but just knowing it’s here – you know?”
For this magnificent jewel, the prince must die.
Butshould he? The question had been nagging her ever since she’d been awarded the contract. The guild, however, probably didn’t distinguish between must and should. They’re paid; it’s done.
In the end, did it really matter? The prince’s fate was sealed and thus, the city’s. If she hadn’t taken the job, someone else would have. The prince would die, so why shouldn’t she be the one to profit from his misfortune? She’s doing this place a favor anyway, protecting its beauty from the ravages of civil war.
Protecting the innocent.
And it wasn’t like she hadn’t killed before during her unexpected sojourn here in the Middle Kingdoms. She’d never been paid to kill a particular person before, true, but was there a difference?
Not to the guild.
She was thinking too much again; so, with a long sigh, she cast one last glance over the wondrous sight. The moonlight illumined the pale green of her almond-shaped eyes. Everyone she met immediately assumed she was from the Eastern Empire, like her mother, because of her eyes and olive complexion, not the Northlands where her father had won a barony. Her father had always told her she had her mother’s beauty; her mother often remarked from whom she’d acquired her temperament.
The night’s silence was broken by the calling of the hour from the gate tower:ehee, the third hour of night.
“Come on,” she said to her shadow below. “Let’s get this over with.”
The golge followed. The prince’s death, it seemed, had to be untraceable, and what better way than by a foreign hand which could steal away under cover of night on a vessel bound for the Outer Sea?
Since the guild, like any guild, couldn’t allow just anyone to encroach upon its territory, the “Deathbringer” – or at least that was Jade’s best translation of his title – appointed the shadow, thegolge, to such errands. When the deed was done, he would slip away into the darkness with the oralak, the proof of the contract’s fulfillment. The guild was paid and happy. Jade was paid and happy. The first portion of her wages alone, a bag of rare and precious gems, had been enough to buy any ship in the harbor. With the balance due to her, she could buy a small kingdom if she so desired.
She didn’t.
Jade simply wanted to go home.
*
Jade reached her destination with minimal effort. She had had to kill three hounds when she’d dropped into the inner courtyard, and she’d left one with a sore snout and a very foul disposition for the golgeto deal with. Luckily, someone had seen fit to train them to attack in complete silence, the idea being, she supposed, they would sneak up on any intruders. On the other hand, they made poor alarms, which is what she thought the whole idea of having guard dogs was all about.
Then the thought occurred to her that the poor beasts’ vocal chords may have been purposely damaged – how cruel would that be? Cruel enough to merit being assassinated?
“Stop it, Jade” she whispered to herself.
The golge hadn’t made it over the inner wall as quickly as she, and now he was limping somewhat. She grinned as she waited for him to catch up. Apparently, he hadn’t expected any trouble for himself.
As she moved toward her goal, a round, squat building, she’d spotted only one guard, and he had passed quickly and carelessly while she had hidden in the darkness behind a hedge manicured into the shape of a large bird.
The prince’s room was on the top floor. The wall being polished stone, she used the grapple this time, which she’d padded with leather.
As she slipped through the third story window into the main hall, she drew the swords from their freshly oiled scabbards.
Throughout the Middle Kingdoms, men tended to favor wide, curved blades, but Jade had grown up using what men in the Northlands called an archer’s sword. It was a good deal shorter than the long sword used by the foot soldiers. Edgar, her father’s man-at-arms, jokingly gave her one when she was only seven-summers old, telling her it was long enough for her size. She had gotten good with it under his tutelage – quite good – and eventually learned to fight with one in each hand as she had gotten older.
She dearly missed Edgar and that crooked smile of his, where a blade had sliced the left side of his face from his upper lip to the corner of his eye. It’d been ten summers since the night her family had had to flee for their lives. Edgar had stayed with his men, guarding their escape, and that was the last time she’d ever seen of him.
“Silly girl,” she heard him saying like he always used to when he’d catch her thoughts wandering. The side of his blade would immediately get her attention. “Let your eyes and mind wander in a fight, and your head will be wondering where its body went.”
Right.
She looked around again, taking in every detail, every shadow, regaining her focus.
Nothing.
The golge did not appear in the window.
“Everything’s going smoothly,” she whispered. Too smoothly. She wasn’t going to complain, but she had that churning feeling in her stomach she always got when something was not quite right. And for some reason, not being followed at the moment only made things worse.
One of the big things that bothered her was the location. If this prince feared for his life like other royals, he sure picked the most out-of-the-way room to sleep in. It was the absolute furthest point possible from the main palace. It wasn’t even attached to the main building. If he troubled the king though, it may well not have been his choosing.
Very convenient for what needed to be done.
There were no guards inside either. An ornate double door stood at the end of the hall. The room beyond took up most of this floor. There was a smaller door in the middle of the right wall, most likely a servant’s quarters, and a circling stairway down.
Something was starting to feel very wrong.
She footpadded to the double door and listened. A woman was alternately singing and humming softly. The smell of incense or perfume lingered near the door.
Okay, that wasn’t totally unexpected, but where were the guards? This prince either needed to hire more or pay more. She couldn’t have asked for a clearer path.
Her next plan had been to open one side of the doors just a tiny bit to see what she was up against, but she had barely pushed on the door – it had been more like a slight touch. It opened all the way, smoothly and noiselessly.
The woman in the room was too startled to scream as she looked at the figure standing in her doorway, a sword in hand.
She was older than a palace plaything would be but very pretty. Pale blue silks draped her curvaceous body, and her long dark hair was tied back into a massive single braid that reached to the small of her back. The lambent glow from the brazier reflected on her rich, dark skin.
Jade searched the room for the prince. A canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a wardrobe and vanity were against the walls. There was a single door and a balcony, which may have been an easier route inside now that she thought about it. It would definitely be a good way out if need be.
But there was something odd here. The room was not nearly as large as she thought it should have been, and nothing about this room screamed royalty. Oh, it was big and comfortable and richly furnished, but it wasn’t the domicile of a prince. A concubine, yes. Maybe. Not a prince.
Had she entered the wrong room?
Jade drew her other sword as she looked back to the bed and what stood on the other side: a finely wrought, ornate crib. She started to speak, but before she could figure out what it was she wanted to say, the woman screamed. In that instant, something smashed into Jade’s back, casting cold pain into her limbs. Then her body was flying across the room like a discarded doll to slam into the foot of the bed. Somewhere in the room, she was vaguely aware of the clanging of her swords as they struck the marble floor beyond the fur carpet.
The baby began to cry.
Before Jade could pick herself up, a massive hand encircled her calf, its talons digging into her flesh. Then she was in the air again and crashing into the wardrobe.
A gray blur scurried across the room. Whatever it was snorted and grunted like a rabid beast.
Her mind raced in a thousand directions, but no definite plan of action presented itself. So, she picked herself up and ran toward the balcony. She had to get out – get away – get home – but a black shadow blocked the balcony, curved blade at the ready.
“I could use some help here,” she shouted at the golge.
He stood, unmoving, forbidding her to leave. For some reason he also pointed a small, oddly shaped mirror into the room like he was trying to catch the reflection of the room’s lambent light.
The thing snorted behind her, but the golge didn’t flinch. It was as if he had no fear of the creature. That’s when she noticed the discarded smoldering scroll at his feet.
“Bastard,” she said under her breath.
“Never turn your back to a foe,” Edgar had told her more than once in that gruff voice of his. “Face them, no matter how bad off you think you are. Face them, and you’ve already won the hardest part of the battle.”
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and straightened her back. It hurt, every part of her did, and though she didn’t want to, she turned to face the creature. Her heart sank as ice flooded the pit of her stomach.
She had never seen its like before. Its body was covered with sparse, stringy hair except around the face, clawed hands, and toeless feet. Its flesh was a pale, corpse gray. Sharp, dirty teeth filled its oversized maw, and its eyes were fathomless deep wells.
For several heartbeats, neither Jade nor it moved.
Jade used those terrifying seconds to scan the room. The woman now cowered on the bed squeezing a swaddled child to her breast. She would be no help. But near the foot of her bed lay one of Jade’s swords.
The creature opened its mouth issuing a sound like the hysterical cackle of a madman. It beat its chest with its maul-like fists then charged. She stood her ground though every fiber of her being screamed to turn and run. Slobber hung from the corner of its mouth as it cackled insanely. In four strides, it had closed half the distance.
She waited.
When it was about ten feet away, it leapt.
Jade fell, rolling beneath the creature. It thudded to the floor and slid across smooth marble. She pushed herself up and ran for her sword, picked it up without pausing, then made for the other door and pulled it open. A small hallway led to another room. This was her way out.
Behind her, however, came a scream that froze her blood.
From the doorway, Jade saw the hell-beast standing by the bed, its full attention on the woman and the baby in her arms.
Jade had her money. She could get out and put everything behind her. Everything. She could get home right now – well, to what her family called home for now.
She’d have to deal with thegolge, of course, but what if she gave the jewels to him to give back to the guild? She could wash her hands of the whole mess.
It wouldn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. That’s not how the guild worked. If the prince didn’t die tonight, she would. Then the prince would as well, just by someone else’s hand.
Behind her, overwrought by the noise and her mother’s fear, the child began to wail once more.
Jade looked at her way out. She shouted – not a curse, not even a word – but an incoherent sound encompassing all her frustration and fury, and without another thought, she turned, dashed across the floor, and leapt at the monster. Raising the sword with both hands, she plunged the blade deep into the monster’s back, between neck and shoulder.
Raging with its deranged laughter, it grabbed her and slung her to the floor, bloody froth coming from its mouth.
As she turned onto her back, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her other sword.
The thing now glared at her with pupilless eyes the color of congealed blood. It tried in vain to reach the sword protruding from its back. Jade rolled to the other weapon, snatched it up, and rose into a crouch.
The beast brought down both fists, but Jade collapsed before they hit and rolled to the side coming up just behind it. She stabbed where the kidneys would have been on a man. The unearthly fiend swatted wildly, but Jade had pulled the blade free and was away. From behind again, she stabbed into its back twice more. The creature stumbled on the disheveled carpets and almost fell, giving her a few seconds to think. Her body wanted to stop, to ease the pain coursing through her limbs and her side, but she knew that would be fatal. She thrust the sword into its neck, looking for the artery, but it would not die.
She pulled the sword free and rolled away from the monster. From the corner of her eye, she saw the golge at the balcony still moving the mirror about, following their movements. She knew nothing about sorcery, but she understood the mirror was important for some reason, just as she knew the blackened scroll had most likely been used to summon the creature. The mirror may be what bound it to this world. Hell-beasts could not linger on this world unless bound by greater magic or a powerful talisman.
She ran to the balcony, the demonic giggling close behind her. The golge readied his blade for her strike; the mirror, he kept pointed toward them.
Jade swung, feigning for the head but intending to strike the hand that held the mirror. It didn’t work. The creature’s claws scraped across her back as it grabbed for her. Clutching a handful of her jerkin, it flung her back on the floor. She scooted across the floor into the fur rug. The demon loped ape-like toward her.
As she gathered herself to stand, she placed her hand on something caught up in the fur, something long and narrow, about a hands-length long. For a moment, she forgot the terror charging her as she looked upon the object. It was a simple rattle carved from a single piece of wood and painted bright blue with gilded edges. Jade couldn’t help but smile as she turned to face her foe. The thing would reach her in a heartbeat. She picked up her blade and pointed it at the hellspawn; with the other, she hurled the rattle across the room like a dart. Before the golge could react, the child’s toy struck the mirror.
Thunder clapped in the room as the mirror shattered. In the same instant, the woman and child screamed. The demon had lunged for Jade, its great maw gaping toward her head. Jade’s blade sank to the cross-guard into its chest. Laughing hysterically, the beast turned as insubstantial as smoke, its body passing along the length of Jade’s arm, so that by the time it reached her, nothing remained except a foul, burning stench.
Dropping onto the disheveled rug, Jade let out the breath she’d been holding as she expected to die. Every bone and muscle throbbed with a dull pain, and judging from the stabbing sensation in her left side, she may have cracked some ribs. A small price to pay to survive.
With more calm than Jade could ever have mustered in such a circumstance, the woman said, “I would say I owe you my child’s life, but I do not think that is the case.”
Jade smiled at the babe. “The prince?”
The mother nodded. “I have been waiting for someone like you since his birth. Still, I’m glad not to have died at the hands of thatidblis.”
The woman paused, giving Jade plenty of time to speak, but she didn’t have anything to say. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to scream, but she could think of no way to express how she was feeling at that moment.
“I only beg that you make it quick and painless. For both of us.”
The woman made no move to save herself; she just concentrated on soothing her child.
“Who would have an innocent babe murdered?”
Jade had simply spoken her thoughts aloud, but the mother answered: “The king’s wife.”
And then it all made sense. The prince didn’t pose a threat to the king; he posed a threat to the ambitions of his wife. Nothing like a bastard to reveal the true nature of a queen, one who wanted her child to rule even though she may remain childless.
Jade clinched her jaw until pain pierced her ears. How could she have been so blind? So naïve? The more she learned about the world sometimes, the more it disgusted her.
She loosened the bag of jewels and tossed them onto the bed. “A ship leaves the harbor tonight. Suata’s Whore.”
The woman looked at the bag, thinking maybe it was some sadistic ruse.
“Take it,” Jade said. “There’s enough there to make sure you’re never found.”
In a hoarse whisper, the woman said, “Behind you!”
In a heartbeat Jade had rolled forward and was up, crouched like a cat about to spring. The golge held a long, curved dagger that looked like a giant tooth, a green, viscous discharge oozed from its tip.
A fangblade!
“Shadow, my ass,” she said. “You the real assassin all along, weren’t you?”
How stupid she’d been! He was there to make certain she did not leave this room alive, contract fulfilled or not. It was a perfect plan. She had been all but invited inside. And the golge had summoned the beast as insurance that everyone died, including Jade.
One thing about perfect plans Edgar had always warned: they rarely worked.
He flung his other hand toward her. Something stung the bicep of her sword arm. She quickly pulled the dart out and slung it to the floor. A trickle of blood flowed from the wound.
The assassin attacked.
Jade ran to meet him, their blades ringing as they passed. His left a slimy green trail along the edge of hers.
She clutched her side with her free arm. Pain flared with every breath.
By the time she had turned to face him, he was attacking again, this time weaving the fangblade in intricate patterns. Jade parried each blow easily enough, but when they parted the second time, her sword arm stung as if it were being jabbed by a hundred needle-thin icicles.
Without warning, two large men rushed into the chamber. Each man moved with a grace and speed that belied his size, and each wielded a broad-bladed kilj.
For the first time that night, thegolge hesitated, if only for a fraction of a second. Apparently, these two were not part of this elaborate ruse. When he sprang back into motion, however, it was frightening and amazing to behold. He dodged two swings and a thrust then slit one’s throat, turned before the second had completed another cut and plunged his blade into the other’s chest. He sliced across as he pulled the blade out, blood and deep green venom oozed from the fatal wound. Both were dead before they hit the floor.
The assassin’s eyes, the only visible part of his body, fixed on Jade’s once more, and she had the impression he was smiling at her.
She cursed herself for using those precious seconds he had been distracted to attack, but at least she learned something. He moved without thought, without effort, like a Kanglesh dancer, weaving graceful patterns with every movement, every breath. His every movement during his attack had been beautiful to behold. One the bright side, she now knew exactly how good he was. Sadly, it was a lot better than she was.
Her sword arm dropped to her side, completely numb. She looked at it, willing it to move. The dart must have been poisoned.
“Took it long enough to act,” she said with a weak laugh.
She’d heard tales about seeing loved ones or past events when on the verge of death. Nothing so soothing happened to her. It was strange, but the realization didn’t panic her in any way. She’d resigned herself to her fate. She was no cold-blooded killer, and now she was going to pay the price for all her pretense. As the numbness crept across her shoulders and the room began to tilt, Jade had but one regret: if she died now, the prince and his mother would surely die.
“Bastard,” she said. “Too scared for a fair fight?”
The assassin poised to strike with a pale claw, but she struggled to raise her sword to protect herself.
As Jade waited for the golge to strike the final, fatal blow, he convulsed and gasped – the first sound he’d made the entire night. He whirled around, the fangblade still poised to strike. Behind him stood the prince’s mother, holding a blood-smeared, needle-like dagger.
Jade’s legs chilled and weakened. Well, if she had only one more thing to do before she died, she figured she might as well do it. She took the sword in her other hand, straining to raise it as far as she could, then fell forward. The blade drove deep into the assassin’s back.
It was a very ugly attack. Edgar would not have approved.
Darkness followed.
*
A soft hand pressed against her forehead then lifted her head. The fragrance of star lilies wafted around her. An elderly man with a forked beard leaned over her pressing a cup to her lips. Hot, thick liquid oozed down her parched throat. It was very bitter and made her gag, but the concoction refused to come back up, no matter how hard she tried.
“The prince,” she said, or tried to. She’d been sent to kill the prince. She couldn’t remember if she had or not.
She tried to turn her head away, to knock the cup away as it poised over her lips again, but her body would not move. Then she was staring into eyes, dark and beautiful – the eyes of the prince’s mother.
No. Her mother.
Momma, she wanted to say. I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have. You were right. Everything you told me.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed then she turned away.
“Too far,” she heard her father say. “Why do you always have to take things too far!” His voice made her flinch. She’d made him angry, and that always made her feel guilty. Or sad.
Dada?
Where was he?
At home, silly girl, a voice chided. But they didn’t have a home anymore.
Someone shouted the hour, but the voice sounded miles away. Was it the fourth or fifth hour?
The fourth – that’s when it’d happened. That’s when the traitor’s men had come for Dada. For all of them.
The fourth hour.
Edgar had died.
She had to move. She had to do something. But she was so tired.
Darkness closed once more – but she shouldn’t sleep – couldn’t – but she did.
*
She startled awake.
She lay shirtless on a bed. Not hers, though. It was the mother’s bed.
How did she get here?
A fog clung to the edges of her thoughts, but she knew she had to move. And fast. There were too many things that could happen at any moment. Bad things.
She pushed herself to her feet. The room was spattered with blood: floors, walls, even the ceiling. The corpses still sprawled where they’d fallen. Worst of all, the smell of iron stung her nose and left a bitter taste on her tongue.
Thank the thousand gods of this accursed land she was still alive. Whatever they’d forced down her throat had saved her life. Her back and ribs were bandaged, too.
If they’d only left something for her aching head.
The crier sounded the hour: ohn.
She hadn’t slept past sunrise: she had time. She took one more second to steady herself and look around as she pulled on her shirt then, wincing with each movement, tied the black leather jerkin as tightly as she could.
The bag of jewels was gone.
Good.
She stepped around the bodies and as much of the blood as she could to reach the wardrobe. She took a deep blue cloak and black scarf from it and recovered both her blades then sighed.
There was one more thing she had to do before she left.
*
Jade arrived at the tavern at the appointed time. Darkness still hung over the city, but the streets were beginning to fill. This part of the city, she noted, didn’t glitter so much.
She caught her foot on something and stumbled with the extra weight of the bag tugging at her belt. Not a bag of jewels this time. She gritted her teeth beneath the scarf that hid most of her face as pain stabbed through her ribs. She wished she’d never gotten involved with any of this mess. No amount of money could be worth this.
Several pedestrians moved to the opposite side of the street as if she were a leper or toshk addict. The disguise must be somewhat convincing at least.
When this was all over, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive herself for doing what she’d almost had done.
She would never forget.
Straightening as best as her body would allow, she made herself as presentable as an assassin could be. The cloak concealed her blood-soaked clothes and her sex.
She went inside.
A whispered word had her escorted to a secluded room in the back. A veiled figure was seated at a table facing the door. To either side were two bare-chested men. They wore full wraps about their faces and had scimitars thrust into their belts.
Jade untied the bag, and let it drop with a wet thud onto the table.
“The oralak.” She said, deepening her voice, then added, “My queen.”
The figure’s eyes darted up with the pronouncement of her title. Jade smiled. She had just wanted to be certain.
“May the gods protect your child,” Jade said. “If you ever have one.”
By the time Jade had stepped out onto the street, a scream spilled from the tavern, not one of shock or fear but one of outrage and anger.
“You will not live,” the queen shrieked. “The guild will have your head. And the child’s!”
On the table before the queen, Jade had left the head of the golge, his fangblade thrust between his protruding eyes.
The prince was far away by now, sailing toward somewhere safe. It wouldn’t be home, no, but at least he would have someone who would love him no matter what kind of foolishness he got himself into. What else did a child need?
Who knew? Maybe someday he would even return to claim what was rightfully his. Just as Jade and her family might do.
Someday.
The first rays of dawn brushed the tops of the tallest minarets. Gold and blue and red flared across the city like beautiful beacons. She hadn’t wanted to miss this sight. A broad smile spread across her face as she watched the colors pass overhead from one side of the street to the other like a series of igniting torches.
And as darkness faded from the streets, Jade disappeared among the bustling denizens of the Glittering City.
©June 2023, Jeffery A. Sergent
Jeffery A. Sergent‘s work has appeared in Lost Worlds, Alienskin, Tales from the Magician’s Skull, and previously in Swords & Sorcery.