NOVEL NEXT 13.1 Whatever the Cost
Val watched silently as the unfamiliar men around her prepared.
Preparing for stealth, which was somewhat unusual for her, Lee'to had bound her beaded braids and hair against her skull and her horns so they no longer rattled when she moved. Her armor from the Laons had been carefully padded with scraps of cloth made from goat hair, her wolf skin cloak draped about her shoulders making her an imposing form. A warmth to its touch still lingered, a living energy as if the skin yet drew breath.
Gustave's men were lightly equipped, having spent weeks, or even months now, embedded within the pilgrim community. They were all skinny men, with sunken cheeks and pointed elbows like starved animals, but the wiry frames of hunting dogs nonetheless. Each one was heavily armed, an assortment of daggers and pointed needle like blades tucked into armpits and strapped under chests with beggar rags draped over them. Val watched every blade, noting their positions and the movements each man made as he sheathed them.
What concerned her greatly was a vial they passed between them, soaking a rag with its oil and wiping the blades of needle like daggers with a long pit down the length of each blade to hold the oil. It was a paralysis poison, she had overheard, with the intention that it would be used to make their capture of the Second easier. Every man - all ten in their party other than herself - carried at least two blades he was dosing in the oil, which seemed far more than even caution would necessitate.
"We will lead," instructed Gustave, returning the vial to a pocket in his breast when they were done. He wore an armor made of hardened leather pieces held together with small metal links, padded by a gambeson underneath to suppress any noise, his tightly curled black hair tied back tightly and slicked smooth against his skull. "If combat breaks out, we will trust you to carve a path to the Snake before he escapes?"
Val grunted her affirmation, and unstrapped her axe to carry it in her hands. The men cast her hesitant looks, but following Gustave's lead they shifted position to focus on their mission as the group advanced.
Together, they sheltered behind the open gate out of view from the Snake's encampment, hiding in the dark shadow cast by the wall from the moonlight high above them. The sky was clear, the cold mountain air free of clouds or fog tonight, the banding of stars above them uninterrupted and mercifully free of dark shapes moving between them. Crouching in the shelter of the wall, several men broke off from their party as a vanguard force. Then, mere moments later, a call like a nightjar echoed requesting their support and the main party moved onwards again.
As Val followed the assassins into the encampment, she stepped over the bodies of guards lying with cut throats, blood pooling within the soft grass of the high mountain meadow. It only took until the first tent for their presence to be detected, and an alarm call went up. Val sniffed in anticipation, listening to voices calling for torches to be lit and weapons readied. At the barest notice it was likely that the Snake Prince, now Snake Pentarch - not that Gustave's men knew this fact - would attempt an escape. Although, Val was certain given her previous encounters with his fiery personality that he would object to it and delay his retainers attempts to ensure his safety.
Val lowered her shoulders and began a charge for the Prince's tent, letting the assassins tasked with flanking her follow in her steps. With her axe in both hands she barreled through two unprepared guards, angling her head to make the best use of her unbroken horn. As men stumbled and fell underneath her, she watched the assassins swoop in behind with their thin blades to finish the guards off. Like a bull leading the charge, she led her small party directly into the heart of the camp.
Based on the calls of chaos around her, their attack was nothing short of slaughter, the Snake's guards having grown relaxed in the mountain's shadow thinking themselves safe under the Vigil's supervision. Naive, but not surprising given the quiet that had settled on High Haven after the tension of so many months with the gate shut.
As Val approached the Prince's tent, she drew her axe back over one shoulder, then with a monumental crash brought it into the side of one of the wooden pavilion supports, shattering the door frame. She then twisted the axe head, tangling the tent covering in her weapon, and drew it backwards, ripping the whole shelter off its supports.
A familiar voice cried out in defiance. "What manner of disruption is this?"
Three assassins were poised at her side, and she grunted as she drew backwards, tearing the frame of the tent and its supports in a single tangled mess. Beneath the rising canvas, the shapes of several humans emerged in the dark, and the assassins darted forward to pounce upon them with their oil coated blades. The rest of their party, led by Gustave, was already darting between the shadows of tents. Wherever he and his men passed, the cries of dying men followed.
Val kept on pulling the canvas back and steadied herself to stay focused, watching the assassins and their quarry with one eye while keeping a second carefully trained on her surroundings. She would not move from the Snakes side now, not until she could be certain she would win the tide of any battle that resulted from her coming betrayal. With a grim set to her mouth she listened not only to the screams of slaughtered men, but also felt their vibrations through the web, tracking each moving figure and grimly counting deaths so she kept a constant tally of her odds.
As she freed her axe head from the canvas of the tent, she watched Gustave cut down two men in quick succession with his rapier and offhand dagger, and noted to herself finally that her suspicions had proved true, he was a highly competent swordsman. She would have to surprise him to not risk any drawn out confrontations.
She cast her eye back to her target, and spied the Snake Prince being dragged from the remains of his tent by two assassins, kicking and yelling. "Who is your Master!?" he screamed as they kept him pinned on the ground, trying to get the canvas over his head. "I will have your heads! You will start a war with the Second for this!" Even as she watched, his kicks became less vigorous and his calls for revenge slurred and halfhearted, the poison kicking in with stunning haste. It did not appear to completely knock him out though, and one of the assassins fumbled with a hip flask to draw a white rag free, likely dipped in something to further drug the Snake into unconsciousness, and held it to his limp face. In mere moments, the dark skinned Pentarch was silent, and as the rag was drawn back it tangled in his mask to reveal burn scars on half his face.
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Watching one assassin handle the Snake slightly rougher than she would have preferred as he was dragged from the wreckage she grunted a warning. Two heads lifted to look at her and she sniffed. "Careful with the goods," she warned, finally discarding the last of the canvas from her axe head and freeing it to heft across both her shoulders again. "Give him to me."
The men looked between themselves and she repeated her order. "Give him to me. I will carry him."
"Do as she asks," said Gustave steadily, cleaning blood from his rapier as he approached.
"It is complete?" asked Val, approaching the Snake to appraise his limp body. He was only lightly robed, his the scars on one side of his face looked raw in the torchlight, significantly worse than any burns Bastian had gotten in their confrontation with the beacon only weeks ago. He must have been in bed when she broke his tent down.
"It is done," replied Gustave, "And quick work too. The Watcher wanted us to secure our prey tonight."
Val ignored his comment, and hefted the Prince over her shoulder. His body was completely limp. "Keep what remains of the pilgrims back, though hopefully they will know not to interfere where there are armed men," she instructed as she shifted the man's weight on her shoulder over the wolf pelt. The fur seemed to cup the man, padding his weight on her armor, but also wrapping close to his skin against the chill of the night. She fidgeting with his robe to wrap him tightly, knowing it was silly she was concerned he would be cold based on what she knew was coming for him. A cold weight of guilt settled in her stomach and she was glad she had only eaten lightly earlier. She would need all the steel she could muster for her nerves the next few hours.
As she walked back up through High Haven, accompanied by a pair of Gustave's men, she was aware of the occasional shutter that closed as she passed. When she reached the Vigil Chapel, a pair of figures waited for her.
The first was Sylus, dressed in his partially ceremonial armor, his eyes gleaming in anticipation of victory.
At his side was a new figure. A small man, with embroidered crimson robes and a cane in his hands that he propped his weight against jauntily. He did not have the figure of a fighter, instead he had the slight and pillowy build of a scholar, with rounded cheeks and a thinning moustache of ash-golden hair.
"This is the Fae?" asked the new man as Val approached them.
Sylus nodded, "Indeed. Queer creature."
"You have been instructed now I speak your language," replied Val with an annoyed tone, making sure to look down upon him from her full height as she approached.
The new man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A four-horned. Well, I guess now three-horned Laon? Have you been told what she is?"
"I have been told that she serves my Cousin?" replied Sylus dismissively.
"Does she now?"
"I serve the Cinereal Prince. I was raised with no colony," muttered Val, eyeing the scholar suspiciously. "You are Synthias' pet mage?" she accused to turn the conversation back on the man before he said anything she might consider dangerous.
"At your service!" announced the mage, tapping his cane against the street and dropping into a courtier's bow. "I let all my friends call my Mac, as you may too."
Val sniffed. No noble then. She shifted the weight of her load on one shoulder and moved to nudge between them. "The night is cold. I will bring the Snake inside."
Sylus held a warning hand up, blocking her path. "There is no rush. Poor fellow will have an unpleasant end one way or another soon. You sure that is him, seems half dressed?"
Val grunted an affirmation, and cautiously watched Sylus' hand, hesitant to push the Viridian Prince from her path.
"Oh, that's him. I met him as a younger lad years back," confirmed Mac the mage. "He'll be out like a babe, no need to rush. Unless we wake him up. Those oils are no magic, but chemistry can sometimes seem like magic, and may soon be the only magic we have left at the Citadel University."
"I will bring him in then?" continued Val.
"Yes, I guess so. You are dismissed after," stated Sylus simply, beginning to turn back through the doors of the Vigil Chapel.
"You cannot dismiss me," replied Val evenly. "I have been ordered to stay."
"Of course you have," muttered Sylus dismissively, pushing the door wider as he entered. "Well, come on then Fae. I hope you have a better stomach for this sort of nasty business than I do. My cousin certainly got one thing right and it was to find great brutes like you to do all his own dirty work. We shall wake the Citrine Snake up once Gustave wrangles his men back here and hopefully he will sing nice and quick and we shall all have an early night."
Val grunted, and stepped through the chapel door, casting a sideways glance at the calculating expression of the mage who followed. It had been her fleeting hope that Sylus might not be present, and that she may not have to spill royal blood. But the Watcher it seems had a different path for her tonight.
She would see Dorius' commands through to the end, whatever the cost.