Assassin's Curse (43 page)

“We can discuss the relative merits of who did what and when later,” Elizabeth shot back.
 
“Right now someone needs to get to that fortress to prevent any more foolishness from happening.”

***

The fortress was cloaked in darkness by the time Jeda reached it.
 
He knelt in the shadow of a tree on a ridgeline overlooking the old stronghold, pondering the best way to get inside.
 
He had slipped in and out of the huge fortress undetected so many times in his youth that he thought it should be easy, but this time both his life and that of Kara depended on his stealth and success at evading the guards.
 
As Jeda studied the old citadel, its closeness brought back a rush of memories and emotions that he had thought were long buried and forgotten.
 
He vividly remembered one particular day so long ago when he first talked with the old master.
 
He did not know that his life hung in the balance of that talk nor how dramatically it would change the rest of his life.

***

“Do you know what we do here?” the old man asked.

“Not exactly, sir,” the young boy answered.

The first thing he had been told was that the kindly, old man was the Grand Master of the House of the Knife, and he was to be respected above all others.
 
Jeda thought he might have been brought in front of the old man to be killed for his insolence during his stay at the house.
 
At first, he had raged against all of them, but now he burned with guilt at his betrayal to the memory of his father.
 
These people had killed him and he knew he should be fighting them, but instead he found himself eating their food.
 
His shame was twofold as he now faced one of the rulers of this strange place, cowering instead of fighting against him.
 

“What do you think we do?”

The young boy had no idea how to answer him.

“Learn to fight, sir.”

“Close.
 
We learn to kill.”

The young boy looked wide-eyed at the old man.
 
He was exhausted from his ordeal in the cell over the last weeks and simply accepted what was to come.
 
There was no more fight in him as he waited for the old man to pronounce sentence on him.

“Do you think you could kill?”

Jeda did not understand what the old man was offering him.
 
All he remembered was the man who had killed his father and knew his answer.

“Yes, sir.”

“I can see in your eyes that you want to kill, but do you want to live as well?”

The countless days he had spent alone in his cell were enough for him to realize what he would and wouldn’t do, especially if he was hungry enough.

“Yes, sir.”

“If you would live, then you must become part of a new family.
 
My family, this family,” he said gesturing around the room.
 
“At this house, our students train and learn to kill by every means available.
 
We do not do this for revenge or retribution.
 
This is a house of assassins and we kill for money.
 
We do not kill out of anger.”

The young boy stood in silence not knowing what to say.
 

“Can you guess what our curse is?” the old man asked.

“No, sir.”

“Our curse is our emotions.
 
It is every assassin’s curse and has killed more of us than any knife, sword, or arrow ever has.
 
You must learn to control your emotions.
 
You must learn to bury your feelings.
 
You must learn to kill with no remorse.”

At the time, Jeda did not fully understand what the old master was telling him, but he thought it best to agree to whatever he said.

“Yes, sir.”

The old man smiled at the young boy shaking with terror before him.

“Someday you will understand.”

***

Looking over the fortress now, Jeda felt he finally understood what the old master had been trying to tell him.
 
The fortress was nearly impenetrable, with countless highly trained killers guarding every inch, all alert and waiting for him to attack.
 
Any attack on this place would be suicide and Jeda knew it.
 
Even with what he knew of the place and the traps it held, he was determined to go forward.
 
Nothing would stop him from rescuing the child he had raised, the child he loved,
the
child he would give his life for.
 

As he prepared to move forward, he heard a twig snap directly behind him.
 
Whirling around into a defensive position with his knives drawn, he came face-to-face with an adversary that had been able to sneak up on him, close enough to touch, without him ever hearing a sound.

“Hi, Poppy.”
 
Kala smiled at her father, holding a broken twig in her hand.
 
“You waitin’ for me?”

Mave sat quietly in the near-darkness, taking in long, deep breaths and letting the silence of the fortress still his ever-present rage.
 
He knew the traitor would be coming to rescue the young witch and he wanted to be prepared for that eventuality.
 
He sought a light trance--a state of mind devoid of all emotion--that would allow him to focus his total concentration on one singular task: killing the traitor.
 
He would be the one to select the best time and place to confront Jeda.
 
No one else would interfere with his mission.

Mave closed his eyes and stared into the darkness of his mind and continued his slow, controlled breathing.
 
As he relaxed his body, his mind slipped back to a time of which he seldom thought.

***

“For the gods’ sakes,” Clett screamed, throwing the empty wine bottle at the cowering woman.
 
“Is that all you can think of… food?”

The empty bottle crashed against the mud-filled wattle that made up the wall in the small hut.
 
The young boy scrambled back into a dark corner, trying hard to make himself as small as possible to avoid his father’s rage.
 
Mave had seen his father like this on many occasions, but he was especially mean on the nights when he brought home more wine than food.
 
On those nights, Mave and his mother were in the greatest danger from his temper.
 
It was best if they tried not to provoke him in any way, but that was not always possible.

“But we’ve had nothing to eat but turnips for two days now,” his mother replied.
 
She stopped cutting the pathetically small turnips and put down the kitchen knife.
 
“We’re hungry and I thought you might have brought home something more than turnips and wine.
 
The boy needs more than turnips to survive on or he’ll not make his next birthday.”

A range of emotions passed over Clett’s face.
 
“I see,” he sneered, standing up, his fists clenched threateningly.
 
“Always thinking about yerself and the boy.
 
Never thinkin’ about me slaving every day in the fields amongst the muck and the shit.
 
You worthless cow!
 
You’ve no idea how hard I have to work to get those turnips and now yer complaining about them, too.”

His mother wrung her hands and hung her head.
 
“I’m sorry Clett.
 
I know how hard you work.
 
I didn’t mean to complain.
 
I’ll not…”

“Shut yer mouth, bitch."

SLAP.

The blow smashed into her cheek.
 
His mother crumpled to the floor.

There was nothing he could do.
 
Mave tried to squeeze farther into his corner, praying his father would take no notice of him.
 
His mother lay on the floor holding the side of her face and crying.

“I said shut up,” Clett screamed, his fists punching the air.
 
His face was purple with rage.
 
He advanced on the prostrate body of his wife.
 
“You ruined my life when you got yerself pregnant with that worthless cur of a boy.
 
I’d have never married you if your da hadn’t threatened to gut me.
 
You have a roof over your head and food in your belly.
 
I won’t listen to any more of your complaints.
 
I’m sick of it.
 
You’re worthless, both of you.
 
Stop that whimpering or I’ll shut you up for good.”
 
Clett kicked his wife and she cried out in pain.

His father’s threat to kill his mother was more than Mave could handle.
 
Something snapped inside him and he found his voice.
 
“You leave her alone,” he screamed, still crouched in his corner.

“What?” his father yelled.
 
Clett swerved around at the boy’s outburst.
 
“You dare speak to me like that?
 
You inconsiderate, little shit.
 
I’m your father and you’ll respect me as such.”

Clett took off his wide leather belt and strode over to Mave.
 
“I’ll teach you respect, boy.”

His mother jumped up and grabbed Clett’s arm.
 
“No, he didn’t mean it,” she screamed.
 
“He’s just a boy.
 
I’m begging you.
 
Please don’t hurt him.
 
I’ll teach him to be quiet.”

Clett turned and smacked his wife with the back of his fist, knocking her to the floor again.
 
This time she didn’t cry out.
 
She lay unmoving where she fell.
 

It was more than Mave could handle.
 
He rushed out of his corner yelling at the top of his lungs.
 
His father turned, eyes widened in surprise at seeing his young son running toward him.
 
What he didn’t see in his drunken stupor was the knife the young boy had gripped in his hand.
 
Mave had grabbed it off the kitchen table when he jumped out of the corner.
 
He raised his arms over his head and plunged the knife with all of his strength into his father’s stomach.
 

Clett was so shocked that he just looked down at the knife protruding from his belly before he fell over.

A few minutes later, his mother woke and looked wide-eyed at the young boy still standing over his father.

“What have you done?” his mother cried, crawling over to the dead man.
 
“Oh dear gods, you’ve killed him.”

“He was gonna kill you, Ma.”

“He was never
gonna
kill me or you,” his mother yelled angrily at the young boy.
 
“He might not have been the best husband or father, but he was all we had.
 
You killed him and you’ve probably killed the both of us too.
 
How will we eat?
 
How will we live now?
 
How could you do this?”

The young boy stared slack-jawed at his mother as she held the man who had hit and threatened to kill her.

“The
constables…,”
she mumbled, looking up at her son.
 
“Get out.
 
Get out before they come.
”

“But
Ma…,”
the boy pleaded.

“Get out,” she screamed.
 
“You’re not my son anymore.
 
Get out and never come back.”

The young boy was bewildered by his mother’s harsh treatment of him.
 
He ran out the door and never saw her again.
 
He never knew she was hung for her husband’s murder, but what he never forgot was how she had treated him when he had tried to help her.

***

Jeda popped up from the river that ran beside the huge fortress and motioned for Kala to come to him.
 
She had been waiting for him along the banks of the river for what seemed like hours.
 
She had begun to worry before he finally resurfaced.
 
He motioned for her to enter the water and follow him.
 

“The gate is unlocked, but it is dark and hard to find, so hold on to me while we are under the water.
 
There will be no light until we get through.”

Kala hesitated.
 
“Poppy, do we really have to go in there?”

Jeda wiped the water from his eyes.
 
“You can still stay out here and wait for me to get back.”

Kala started forward.
 
“No Poppy, I’m coming, but it smells so bad.”

“Just be thankful the tunnels have already been flushed today.
 
If we were caught when the floodgates opened, the rush of water would drown us.”