Valek hurried to reach his second target. Sergeant Edvard stayed in the barracks and would be much harder to kill since he roomed with three other sergeants. Victor had shared a room with Viliam and, despite being twins, the two were opposites. Serious and thoughtful, Victor had been born first—a fact he never grew tired of reminding Viliam about every time the other wanted to include him in one of his schemes.
Of all his brothers, Valek had looked up to Victor. Even though his broad shoulders and thick muscles made others believe he’d be the bully of the family, Victor had a calming presence in tense situations. He also could be very protective if provoked, and when the soldiers had drawn their swords that horrible day, Victor had stepped in front of their father without hesitating.
Too bad Sergeant Edvard didn’t pause before he sliced the edge of his blade along Victor’s neck. Valek would never forget the angle of the blood as it sprayed from Victor’s throat like a morbid waterfall.
The barracks consisted of four two-story buildings. The long structures lined the inside of the garrison’s walls, one along each side. Edvard slept in a room in the west end of Barrack B on the second floor.
As Valek approached the barrack, he kept close to the shadows. A lesson he learned well—night and shadows were an assassin’s best tools. Soldiers patrolled the top of the walls and had a good view of the courtyard if they turned around.
Unfortunately, Edvard’s room lacked a window and the closest one opened into a large area full of bunks for the new recruits. Good thing this wasn’t the first time Valek had entered the building. He’d been practicing while Edvard had been on patrol.
Grabbing the doorknob, Valek turned it in one smooth motion. Too slow and the damn thing would have squealed. After Fester’s murder all the doors in the complex had been locked at night, which gave Valek plenty of practice in using his lock picks. But their laziness had returned and now he didn’t need to waste the time. He slipped inside the building and closed the door behind him.
He waited for his vision to adjust to the semidarkness. A few lanterns remained lit in hallways and the stairwells so if the soldiers were called for an emergency in the middle of the night, they wouldn’t break their necks. Listening to the various soft sounds of many sleeping men, Valek ensured no one was awake before moving.
The old wooden steps to the second story needed to be climbed with care. His first attempt up these stairs resulted in a series of loud squeaks, which woke up a few soldiers who came out to investigate. With his heart hammering in his chest, Valek had scrambled up the wall and clung to the ceiling rafters like a large black spider. Too bad he didn’t have the spider’s eight limbs as his tired at an alarming rate and sweat slicked his grip. Just when he’d thought he’d fall on the men, they returned to bed.
This time, Valek knew where all the noisy spots lurked and he ascended to the second floor with nary a squeak. He ghosted down the hallway to the third door on the left. He pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. Turning the knob, Valek eased into the small room that contained two bunk beds and four trunks. He left the door ajar to let in some light. One of Edvard’s roommates was out on patrol, so only three men slept inside. Two on the top bunks, and one on the bottom—Edvard.
Valek wished he could inform Edvard why he was about to die like he had the others, but that was impossible, so he crouched next to the bed and studied Edvard’s body position. He’d have only one chance, otherwise the noise would wake the man’s roommates.
Edvard slept on his side, facing the wall. Valek pulled his knife. Stretching out both arms, Valek clamped his hand over Edvard’s mouth while simultaneously slicing deep into the man’s neck. Edvard jerked and a muted gargle came from his opened throat. Blood splashed against the wall and soaked into the pillow.
Valek pressed his hand to Edvard’s mouth until the man stilled. His roommates didn’t make a sound, but Valek had forgotten one important detail—the smell. Very soon the stench of blood, feces and urine would wake the sleeping men. Setting the statue of Victor on Edvard, Valek bolted.
He made it halfway down the stairs before the shout echoed on the wooden walls. No longer caring about being quiet, he raced down the steps, heading for the door.
Yanking it open, he dashed out just as another shout cried, “There he is.”
Boots pounded, swords rang, voices yelled and called his position with heart-stopping accuracy. In his panic, he’d run right through the courtyard—visible to all. Rookie mistake. More soldiers poured from the other barracks.
Once he reached the far side, Valek slowed and glanced back. A swarm of soldiers followed a half dozen paces behind him. He wouldn’t be able to outrun them, but perhaps he could outsmart them. Valek dived into the shadows along the next barracks, then scaled the wall to the roof and lay flat.
He drew in deep breaths in an effort to stifle the desire to gasp for air. As the bulk of the soldiers passed his hiding spot, Valek knew it would only be a matter of time until they found him. He needed to give them a target or a direction.
Valek rolled over and studied the activity on the wall. Soldiers rushed back and forth, trying to spot the intruder below. They tended to cluster together as if more sets of eyes would improve their night vision. If Valek timed it just right...
Rolling along the roof, Valek traveled to the edge closest to the wall. He peeked over, searching for soldiers before sitting on the edge. Valek rubbed his damp palms along his pants and then reached across the two-foot gap. Running the tips of his fingers over the stones, Valek found small holes and ledges to grasp. Thank fate the garrison was one of the older bases. If it had been a new construction, the wall would have been too smooth to ascend. He stretched out his legs, seeking toeholds and locating secure positions. Well, as secure as this section of wall allowed.
Next was the hard part. Valek needed to transfer his weight to the wall without falling or alerting anyone to his presence. Either would result in his death. He mentally counted to ten, concentrating on steadying his jumpy heart. Valek had to be one hundred percent committed to the action. Any hesitation would result in failure.
Leaning forward, Valek launched. His fingers and arms strained to hold his body against the stones as he dug in his toes. One foot slipped, sending a rain of crumbling mortar to the ground, but he found another toehold before sliding any farther.
Valek pressed his hot forehead against the cold stones. He waited for a cry of discovery or for his abused muscles to give way. But he stayed strong. After he had struggled with clinging to the ceiling of the barrack’s stairwell, Valek had worked on strengthening and endurance. Nice to see all those hours of lifting hay bales had paid off.
When no shout of alarm rose above the general noise of the chaos below, Valek climbed to the top edge of the wall. From this angle, only the shadows of the guards were visible. Once again, his next move required decisiveness and no mistakes. He reviewed each step in his mind, envisioning the actions until he felt confident. Then he waited for the shadows right above him to clear.
His window of opportunity arrived a few minutes later. Valek scrambled onto the top of the wall, startling a cluster of guards five feet to his left. He saluted them, dived for the opposite edge, twisted so he went feetfirst over the wall and stopped his fall by grasping the edge with his hands. Once he found toeholds, he climbed down.
The yells and shouts sounded when he was halfway to the ground.
“Stop!”
“There! He’s there!”
“To the left!”
With about ten feet remaining, Valek dropped the rest of the way, landing with a soft thud on the cold earth. An arrow slammed into the ground right next to him. Valek zigzagged as he dashed into the woods. More arrows whizzed past and one burned a line of fire along his thigh. But he didn’t stop.
He reached the protection of the forest only to realize soldiers filled the woods
. While he’d been clinging to the wall, they must have gone through the gate. And they were converging to block his escape route. Valek found a hiding spot to plot his next move.
What would be the last thing they’d expect him to do? He bit down on a groan. They’d never guess that he’d return to the garrison. All his survival instincts screamed at him to ignore that advice and to head for home right now. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, but the fabric was wet. The thought of being caught soaked with Dumin’s blood spurred Valek into action. They’d tear him apart.
Heading away from the guards, Valek neared the wall, but he stayed in the woods as he looped around the garrison. He searched for an empty section, but soon realized that would require a miracle, so he picked a spot with just a few soldiers. And when their attention was elsewhere, he crossed to the wall.
His abused muscles protested as he climbed. When he reached the top, he peered over the edge and waited until the guards were not looking in his direction. Pain throbbed in his leg as fatigue shook his limbs. When the prime opportunity arose, he stayed low as he traversed the wall, moving slowly so he wouldn’t attract any attention.
The compound below appeared empty, but Valek eased down the wall and didn’t relax until he reached the shadows at the base. He circled around. The bag with his clean stable-boy clothes remained hidden. Valek changed and stuffed the bloody ones into a burn barrel before he washed up.
Lanterns blazed in the stables and a couple of horses were missing. Reedy saddled a big mare while the Stable Master put a bridle on another.
“Where’ve you been?” Reedy demanded.
“At the latrine,” Valek said and helped the boy with the girth straps.
“All this time?”
“Until all hell broke loose. Then a captain ordered me to stay in Barrack A until the ruckus died down. What happened?”
“The assassin struck again. I heard he got two men before they spotted him climbing over the wall.” Reedy’s voice held a combination of awe and fear.
They worked to saddle more horses as officers left to join the chase. When the flow of officers slowed, the Stable Master questioned Valek on his absence. He repeated his story.
The Stable Master backhanded him across the cheek, spinning Valek to the ground as pain exploded on the right side of his face.
He crouched next to Valek. “I’m your boss, not some captain. Next time you get your ass back here right away or I’ll pound on you until you look like raw meat and then I’ll feed you to the horses. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Valek considered adding the Stable Master to his to-be-assassinated list.
Valek worked at the stable for another month. He viewed the effects of his double assassination with amusement. Twice the number of guards traversed the walls, extra locks were installed on all doors, patrols swept the woods surrounding the garrison every night and soldiers patrolled the compound, checking shadows.
Right now Captain Aniol was untouchable. On Valek’s next day off, he left and never returned. He had spent a total of three and a half seasons as a stable boy and had learned so much more than he’d expected. Someday, he’d finish the job. No doubt.
He reported to Hedda’s office when he reached the school.
“What the hell were you thinking when you killed Edvard?” she demanded. Two red splotches on her cheeks matched the color of her hair.
“I wasn’t—”
“That’s right, you weren’t thinking!” She stood and jabbed a finger at him. “Never kill a target in front of witnesses.”
“But they were...”
She waited.
“You’re right. It was a disaster.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t caught,” Hedda said.
Valek couldn’t resist. “Luck had nothing to do with it.” He smirked.
A steely glint flattened her green eyes. “And what did?”
“Your excellent training.”
She snorted, but she settled behind her desk. “And did my training include leaving clues?”
“Clues?”
“Those black statues. They’re calling you the rock assassin.”
“Not very original,” he said.
“They can be traced back to you.”
“How?”
“Asking around at the market, finding the person you bought them from.”
He smiled. “I didn’t buy them nor did anyone see me carve them.”
If she was surprised, she hid it well. “You better make sure no one does. Now, where’s my cut from your wages?”
He handed her a small pouch.
Hedda dumped the coins into her palm. “Not much. Talk about slave labor.”
Valek shrugged. “I found the experience to be very valuable.”
“Did you, now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to earn much more than this?” She shook the coins as she studied his expression.
He paused. It was one thing to kill the men who’d murdered his brothers, but to assassinate an innocent...
“They’re far from innocent.” She gestured to a chair. “Sit down and let me tell you about the people who are targeted for assassination. It’s not because they’re the pillars of the community or because they do good deeds for their neighbors. No, there is always a reason someone hires us to kill them. Corruption runs deep in this country. The royals are the worst of them. And then there’re the drug lords and those exploiting children and forcing women to be prostitutes. Let’s just say no one mourns their deaths.”
“That would make it easier.”
“And don’t forget the experience alone would be...”
“Valuable.” He’d made a big mistake with Edvard. And he still had much to learn. When he went after the King, there’d be no room for error.
“Are you ready for your first paid assassination?” Hedda asked.
“Yes.”
Valek had then worked various jobs throughout the next two years. With each assassination, his skills improved and his heart rate steadied. Confidence had come with experience, and a high level of cockiness. Valek had started leaving his black statues for his targets to find, warning them of their impending assassination just to make the job harder. And it had, setting off a series of ruined plans, close calls and mistakes. However, his ability to quickly deal with complications had improved.
Dealing with problems had been a part of his life since he’d vowed revenge on his brother’s murderers. And the message from Yelena that lay on his desk was one recent example. Valek tapped his fingers on the parchment, considering if the Commander’s order not to get involved with Ben Moon’s escape extended to Valek’s corps. He could send a few trusted men to Fulgor just to keep an eye on Yelena. That wouldn’t be disobeying the Commander’s orders.
However, if Yelena found out...she’d probably be upset he didn’t trust her ability to defend herself. Logic warred with his heart.
Hedda had trained him to lose his emotions, but Yelena had shown him that there was room for emotion. And he’d learned love trumped logic. He wondered what his life these past eight years would have been like if he hadn’t met her. Lonely? Lackluster? Cold?
Truthfully, Valek had been content with his life before she arrived. Would he have woken from his self-induced exile? He’d like to think so, but even though he’d had relationships with women before Yelena, they had always been part of a job he was working and not a true connection. Basically, he’d used them to reach his mark. Not the nicest thing to do, but the King’s death had been all that mattered to him at that time. And after he’d assassinated the King, protecting the Commander and Ixia was all he’d cared about.
A sudden thought hit Valek hard. Perhaps it was time for him to be selfish. He should be with Yelena and not up here directing...traffic.
The power twins and Maren could take over Ixia’s security forces. He’d assumed he’d have plenty of time to retire and enjoy a life of leisure, but at any time, another assassin—one more skilled than Onora—could show up and kill him. Before Yelena, he hadn’t cared about his own life, but now he did.
With those thoughts swirling around his head, Valek grabbed his travel pack and headed to the stables. He saddled Onyx in record time, hoping he’d reach a travel shelter before all the beds had been taken. Mounting Onyx, he huffed in amusement. In the past, he’d sleep anywhere—on the cold hard ground, on gravel, in the rafters, wedged under or behind various pieces of furniture. Now he preferred a bed.
The road north had few travelers, and those he encountered quickly moved to the side, giving Onyx a wide berth. Only officers and high-ranking advisers rode horses. All others walked. Valek would rather be on foot—better to spot trouble—and he’d rather be disguised as an ordinary citizen—better to gather useful information. But the travel time to and from the main military base in MD-2 would eat up four days of his allotted time.
The days of unlimited time were, unfortunately, in the past. He remembered spending three months just tracking Captain Aniol’s movements. Aniol had ordered his men to kill a bunch of boys to make an example of them, and Valek hadn’t been able to get close to the man until Aniol had been assigned a mission with four other soldiers. They’d camped for the night in a section of Icefaren province that was so remote there hadn’t been any inns or travel shelters.
Valek waited for Aniol to take his turn for guard duty. After the man that Aniol had relieved fell asleep, Valek baited the captain by making slight noises. As Aniol moved farther and farther from camp to investigate, Valek looped around behind him and pressed his knife to his throat.
“Did you think you were safe, Captain?” Valek asked.
“Safe from what?” The captain’s voice remained steady. “A thief in the woods?”