Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (3 page)

His ears perked.
Was that a scuff
? Rezkin strained to
hear the eventual passing of the guard in the third corridor.
There.
He was
certain he heard a creak. Two more breaths would give the guard enough time to
pass. He silently exhaled and peaked around the corner just as the brown hair
disappeared. Jerking his body into motion, Rezkin thrust himself around the
corner into the second corridor just as he heard a shuffle of feet into the
passage he had just vacated.

He listened a moment. No running footsteps. He let out
another silent breath. The guard had not seen him. Luckily he did not have to
worry about avoiding
all
of the guards since they were stationed all
over the fortress. If he could just keep out of sight of this second guard and
the standing guard near the target, he would be okay, at least until he had the
object. Then, he had to get out before they knew he had trespassed.

Reaching the end of the second corridor, he peered around
the corner. The second guard was heading away from him. Rezkin did not have
time to wait for the guard to vacate the corridor, so he would have to silently
follow behind and hope the guard did not turn around. Twenty-five paces down
the corridor was an alcove that led to a supply room, which had an entrance to
the disused servants’ passages. Of course, the fortress had no servants, but he
had been told that long ago the fortress served some other purpose. No one had
seen fit to tell him what that purpose was, though. It did not matter. Today,
he would use those passages.

Silently slipping along about fifty paces behind the guard,
Rezkin suddenly felt a prickling on his skin and the hairs on his neck stood on
end. He just knew someone was approaching from behind. He shot forward as fast
as possible hoping he did not make any sound and slipped into the alcove. His
heart was pounding, and the sound of blood rushing through his ears was making
it difficult for him to hear if anyone was pursuing him.

Rezkin took several deep breaths as he dug into the pouch at
his belt with shaky fingers. He quickly pulled out a small clay jar with a cork
stopper. Digging into the jar with his fingers he drew out a clump of thick
grease made from pig fat. With jerky movements he slathered the grease on the
old hinges of the storage room, replaced the stopper and held his breath as he
pressed on the old, heavy door. The door swung inward with a gentle glide, and
he let out a quiet sigh. He ducked through the door and closed it just as a
booted foot came into view of the alcove. There was no guard scheduled to be
there at that time, so it must have been Farson or Adona. He had to move
quickly. If one of the strikers chose to investigate the storage room at this
moment, he was done for.

After greasing the hinges on the door leading to the
servants’ corridor, he gave it a push, but it did not want to open. He realized
he was going to have to put his weight into it, and he hoped it would not be so
loud as to alert the guard. It took three tries, but finally the door burst
open with a thud. Rezkin winced at the sound. Of course, he broke
Rule 12…
again.
That had to be the hardest one. Some of them were much easier, like
Rule 156
– Do not die
.

Rezkin started down the corridor and came to a sudden halt.
He looked behind him and suddenly realized he had made a mistake. Another
Rule
broken.
Rule 10
, again.
Do not leave evidence.
The floor of the
corridor was covered in dust, and he was leaving footprints. Considering his
options, he decided he had only three. First, he could try to find a way to
cover the tracks, which would be difficult and time consuming. Second, he could
clean the entire corridor, which would erase his tracks but could potentially
alert people that someone had been here recently. That method was also time
consuming, not to mention he did not have a broom. It would also be noisy. The
young man decided the third option would have to do. He would continue on and
hope that the disuse of the corridor would suffice for the purpose of the test.
It was unlikely anyone would come through here and find his tracks.

The servants’ corridor turned several times and branched off
twice before Rezkin stepped through another door into a privy. One inhale set
him to gagging, and he realized that this particular privy needed some
attention. Rezkin absolutely did not want to be the one to do it. He cracked
the door of the privy open and peered down the corridor. The target room was
only ten paces to his left on the opposite wall. The masters had not set a
guard directly outside the room because that would have made the test
impossible. Instead, a roaming guard would pass by the room every two minutes.
 

Rezkin pushed the door closed just as a guard came into view
around the corner. It would be so much easier if he could just kill the guards,
but that was not the assignment. He waited several tense moments for the guard
to pass and then counted to fifteen before checking that the guard had turned
down the other corridor. Closing the door behind him, Rezkin silently rushed to
the target room. He pressed the latch and, of course, it was locked. This was
not a problem for a Lock Master, and he had the door open quickly, but almost
not quickly enough to avoid the next guard.

Once he slipped into the room he let out a sigh of relief.
No one would be entering this room for another twelve minutes. Of course, he
would liked to have entered the room immediately after the last check so that
he could have the full twenty minutes to vacate the fortress and return to the
master, but they would certainly be looking for him to be near this room
immediately before or after a check. Thusly, he decided to enter the room late
and give up a bit of his escape time.

The masters had not told him what to expect upon entering
the room. He thought he might have to search for the object, but to his relief,
it was nicely displayed on a stand on the dressing table. It was a necklace
with a fine silver chain and a green stone the color of fresh leaves in spring.
Rezkin held the necklace up to the light. He appreciated the shimmer and
reflective qualities, which could be useful for signaling a partner during a
mission, but otherwise he saw no purpose in the item. He understood from his
studies that some people decorated themselves with jewels in an attempt to
appear important or desirable. He did not see how putting metal and rocks
around your neck could improve your quality. Perhaps they had some hypnotic
affect. He had learned in survival training that one could use shiny object to
lure fish, so he decided it was possible this necklace had the same affect on
people.

The young man shook his head and stuffed the necklace into a
pouch at his belt. He frowned as he glanced back down at the empty stand. It
was obvious something was missing. He glanced around the room and had a moment
of sudden inspiration. He would have to move quickly, since he was running out
of time. Reaching the bed, he selected a long tassel of braided silver thread.
Pulling out a few strands, he twisted them together as he crossed to the side
table. Upon the table was a decorative oil lamp with multicolored glass beads
dangling from the top. He tilted the lamp so that he could remove a green glass
bead from the back and threaded it onto the silver strands as he moved back to
the dressing table. He hung the counterfeit jewelry on the stand and stepped
back toward the door. A close inspection would definitely reveal the necklace
to be a fraud, but if the guards simply glanced into the room, they may not
notice the necklace was gone. The ploy could give him extra time if he was too
slow in his escape.

Pressing his ear to the door, he listened carefully for the
guard to pass by and then flew out as quickly as possible. He rushed down the
hall in the opposite direction from which he had come and darted around the
corner after a brief inspection. He had planned for a few extra minutes in case
he had to hunt for the item, so making the replacement had not really put him
behind schedule. He was still pushing the limits, though, because he now only
had eight minutes to get back to the master before someone checked on the
object.

Twice more the young man had to wait for guards to turn
corners, and as he entered the solar, he was mentally preparing himself for the
most daring…or reckless, but certainly the most dangerous part of his plan. The
windows in the solar were already open so he approached cautiously, knowing
that he still had no idea where Farson and Adona were located. Hiding himself
in a shadow, he peered out into the garden below. He saw no movement or manlike
shapes. Taking a necessary risk, he stuck his head out of the window and
examined the rooftops above and around him and again saw no one.

Stepping into the windowsill, he examined his escape route.
It was thirty feet to the ground, and he was not sure the fates would allow him
to survive another such fall. The garden was surrounded by a ten-foot stone
wall, atop which stood a five-foot high iron fence. At twelve-years old he
stood at just over five feet tall, so if he hung from the windowsill, he would
only have to drop ten feet to the iron fence. The top of the iron fence,
however, was lined with foot-long metal spikes, so he would have to land with
his feet on the crossbars between the spikes, and he could not crouch too far
in the landing or he would be impaled. Additionally, the crossbar was a little
more than an inch wide, so it was going to be a balancing act.

Maneuvering himself into position, Rezkin dangled from the
windowsill and, without hesitation, let himself fall. He immediately regretted
his decision. Striking the iron fence produced a muffled clang that
reverberated along its length.
Rule 12, again
.
While he managed to
catch his feet on the crossbar as planned, one of the spikes caught in his pant
leg and sliced into his calf.
Rule 6
broken
.
His arms pin wheeled
as he wobbled back and forth for a moment before catching his balance, and then
he dropped down to catch himself on the crossbars with his hands. Once his feet
were planted on the stone wall, he released his grip and caught himself once
again with his hands on the lip of the wall. With one final release, he dropped
to the ground in a crouch nearly tipping forward when his calf screamed in
pain.

Rezkin took in a deep breath through his nose and drew a
strip of cloth from another pouch at his belt. After wrapping his calf, he
quickly scanned around to see if he had left any noticeable blood behind.
Satisfied that he had not broken
Rule 10
again, he quickly crossed the
garden, scanned the area for guards, and then passed through a gate. Darting
across the yard toward the stables, he ducked behind a hedge only to run into a
massive wall of flesh. Dark eyes peered down at him above a cruel smirk.
Striker
Adona
. Rezkin’s heart skipped a beat just as a meaty fist connected with
his temple and all went black.

 “Method 16?” queried Master Peider.

“A thin blade, such as a stiletto, directly to the base of
the skull in an upward thrust. If done properly, causes instantaneous, silent
death with very little blood. The blood and wound are easily hidden if the
target has long hair or bulky garments. Most effective if left in a position
and situation appropriate for feigning sleep,” explained Rezkin as another
arrow came hurling toward his face. His blade flashed up, snapping the arrow in
two as it was turned aside. The rest of his body remained still so as not to
slosh any of the water out of the bowl balanced on the young man’s head.

Rezkin was getting tired. They had been at this for over two
hours already. Master Peider had already required him to recite the entire list
of deadly and harmful poisons and had moved on to kill methods. The strikers
were shooting arrows at him randomly, sometimes several at a time and
occasionally leaving long breaks in between to lull him into a sense of
complacency. Then, of course there was the water, which could not be spilled.

He would never complain, though. To do so would mean
breaking
Rule 17 – Never complain
and
Rule 43 – Fight off
fatigue
, which did not mean that one could force one’s body not to need
rest. (If the body was fatigued, then it needed rest.) Rather, it simply meant
that one should avoid becoming fatigued in the first place through rigorous
training and planning ahead. If one became fatigued under dangerous
circumstances, one was supposed to push through until one was safe. Of course,
there was the ever-present
Rule 258 – Obey your masters
. Rezkin
had managed not to break a single rule in three days, and he was not going to
start now, especially for something so mundane.

“Good,” said Master Peider, “you may stop. You have a task
to perform.”