Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (47 page)

Rezkin suddenly felt that strange sense of anger rise up in
him, the same anger he felt previously toward Lieutenant Jimson when he
questioned Rezkin’s honor.  “Really, General, you have had the absolute worst
perception of me since we met. I do not go around murdering random people, nor
do I take pleasure in the act. You, yourself, have killed many men by order of
the king. In that, you are no different than I except that you knew by whom
your orders were given.”

“Yes, my orders are given by the king. You do not even know
who was issuing your orders. It could have been an assassin’s guild for all we
know,” the general acerbically replied.

“And your orders have always come from the king, himself?”
Rezkin turned to Lieutenant Jimson who was feeling the strongest desire to flee
the room. “Do you, Lieutenant, receive your orders directly from the king?”

“W-Well, no. They come through the chain of command,” the
lieutenant replied cautiously.

Rezkin nodded once. “Exactly. The lieutenant does not always
know who originally issued his orders,” he said as he redirected his attention
to the general. “If a superior officer issues a command to the lieutenant, and
he carries out that order, is the lieutenant responsible for the outcome? Like
you and the lieutenant, here, I followed a chain of command. My masters issued
the orders, but those orders came from somewhere else.”

“The lieutenant knows his superiors work for the kingdom,”
Marcum countered. “You do not seem to know who yours worked for at all.”

“What you say is true. I was raised since infancy to follow
the orders of my masters,
Rule 258
. While I did not question whom my
masters served, I have come to believe they, too, worked for the kingdom. More
specifically, it is almost certain they worked for King Bordran, considering
the certificate that you already verified is authentic. But,
he
was not
the one to issue my last orders, was he? Who do you suppose replaced him in the
chain of command, General?”

General Marcum stilled. If Rezkin had worked for King
Bordran, then King Caydean should have seized Bordran’s authority upon his
death. But, Rezkin insisted that he was ordered to kill a number of secret high
profile targets. Was the king killing his own people, or had someone else
usurped the authority in his stead? If the king believed the targets to be
traitors, it would have been within the king’s authority to have them
investigated, and the general would have been informed.

 Rezkin could see the general was finally beginning to
realize the magnitude of the conspiracy before him. The young warrior released
an audible sigh, not because he felt a need, but because he knew it to imply a
change of mood in the discussion. “I know you were King Bordran’s man, and
although I cannot expect you to place your trust in me, I would hope that you
could place your trust in
him
– to believe that he knew what he
was doing when he gave me that certificate. I have mastered all of the
Skills
,
strictly adhere to the
Rules
, and am dedicated to my purpose.

Maintaining eye contact with the general as he spoke, Rezkin
said, “I could accept your unfair judgment when you did not know me, but now we
have spoken, and I have been unnecessarily candid with answering your
questions. You know of my authority and, therefore, know that I am not obliged
to provide you with any information. I have merely done so out of respect for
both your position as General of the Army and as Frisha’s uncle. Since we met,
you have repeatedly made unfounded accusations against my character and
questioned my honor. Quite frankly, General, I am beginning to take offense.”

The general’s brows rose and he actually barked out a laugh.
“You are just
now
taking offense? I have been pushing your limits since
you entered my home, and I swear I have never met a man with a more steady
countenance. If it had been me at your age, I would have already run me through
for such offenses.”

“It was a test, then?” Rezkin questioned curiously.

Marcum frowned. “Not exactly. I meant what I said. I just
simply made no efforts to filter my comments for the sake of common decorum,
and neither did I make an attempt to play the role of hospitable host. I knew
there was something wrong about you from the beginning, and now I know what it
is. Oh, I believe I know what you are, and I do not want it anywhere near
Frisha. She deserves better than you.”

“I fail to see how any of the nobles who would not respect
her would be better than I,” Rezkin remarked. “What exactly is it about me that
offends you?”

“You are a killer,” the general spat.

“So are you,” Rezkin countered.

“I have killed in battle. It is terrible but necessary. I am
no assassin,” the general stated.

“If the king ordered you to sneak into some lord’s home and
slit his throat? Would you deny your king?” Rezkin probed.

General Marcum clenched his jaw
and scowled at the young man. “King Bordran would not have issued such an
order.”

“King Bordran did not issue my
orders,” Rezkin countered. “Besides, I did not assassinate the men I killed.
They were fully armed Masters of their respective weapons, and fifteen of them
came against me alone all at once. My master gave the order for me to kill them
when I was standing in the center of them all. You can hardly consider that an
assassination attempt, unless you think I was the target of the assassination…”
Rezkin’s voice trailed off. That was a point of view he had not considered.

“Fifteen Masters!” Lieutenant
Jimson cried. “Where the hell do you find fifteen Masters, and how did you
manage to kill them all?” Abruptly, Jimson recognized the inappropriateness of
his outburst and with chagrin calmly said, “Pardon me.”

General Marcum frowned. “If that
is true, which I find difficult to believe, then it sounds to me like your
master did not intend for you to survive the impossible encounter.”

Rezkin cocked his head in thought.
“No, my masters would have been confident in my ability to prevail. I am nearly
certain they expected my survival. I suspect that whoever issued the order was
either likewise aware that I would succeed or completely underestimated me and
expected that I would die.”

He paused as he pondered the new perspective. “I was not
scheduled to complete my training for another four or five years. I achieved mastery
of the
Skills
far ahead of schedule. It is possible that whoever issued
the order was unaware of this and truly believed that fifteen would be
sufficient to end me. I had not previously considered that I could have been
the target. It would have been absurd. All of the men I killed were those who
trained me for the last nineteen years. They were aware of my
Skills
and
would have known they could not succeed. I do not believe they were aware of
the orders until I received mine. They did look quite shocked. It would explain
why the last one ran away, as well. If they had followed the
Rules
, more
of them might have survived.”

“What do you mean?” asked the general.

“
Rule 245 – Retreat when you cannot win
,”
Rezkin answered absently as his mind raced through the possibilities. Was it
really
he
who was meant to die? But, why would the masters set it up in
such a way that he was sure to survive? And, why had the masters killed each
other?

“You killed your own trainers?”
Lieutenant Jimson asked with disdain.

Rezkin cocked his head as he
considered the lieutenant. “If I had not killed them, they would have killed
me.”

“But, they
raised
you!” the
lieutenant protested.

Rezkin felt the tightening in his
chest again. It was odd that it always seemed to happen when he thought of the
strikers and his masters as people rather than targets or trainers. “They
trained me to become a man. If they felt any sentiment toward me, it did not
prevent them from trying to kill me in an attempt to protect themselves.”

“But, did you not feel
anything
for killing them? No remorse? Have you no conscience?” Lieutenant Jimson
questioned, his disgust obvious.

Conscience
. That was the
word associated with
Rule 2
. He would have to discuss the subject
further with Jimson, but now was not the time. Rezkin replied, “Whether or not
I have feelings regarding the deaths is irrelevant. It does not change the fact
that they are dead, either directly or indirectly through my actions. They
would not have spared my life, Jimson. If you can see it no other way, then at
the very least, does a man not have a right to protect himself?”

“But, you said they only attacked
after
you were given orders to kill them. They believed they were protecting
themselves from
you
,” the lieutenant argued.

“That is true, and they were. But,
as I said before, it was not my decision. The orders were given in the presence
of everyone, at which point nothing could have been done to stop it.” Rezkin
looked to the general and said, “Two forces were against each other. The
smaller but deadlier force was surrounded. The commander yelled, ‘Attack.’ What
do you expect to happen?”

The general nodded solemnly in
understanding. “Were there others who trained with you? Other boys?” he asked.

“No, there were no boys. I was the
only trainee,” Rezkin answered, wondering what children had to do with
anything. Why would children be asked to train? He had read of children. They
were the weak and coddled offspring of a union between a man and a woman. He
had never seen one, but from what he read, he believed them to look similar to
small-men and -women. He was not exactly sure what made the difference between
whether a man and woman produced a child or a small-man like himself when he
was young. Perhaps only those who had mastered the
Skills
and followed
the
Rules
produced small-men.

“These men who trained you –
you said they were Masters of their respective weapons. How was it that fifteen
Masters gathered to raise and train one boy?” the general asked.

“Actually, there were seventeen, if
you count my masters, and on the occasion that one of my trainers died, he was
replaced with a new weapon master. But, I cannot answer your question,” Rezkin
replied. The truth was that he did not know the answer, but for some reason, he
was hesitant to inform the general that the men had been strikers.

“Who exactly were these trainers
of yours?” the general queried.

Rezkin held the general’s gaze for
several moments as he considered whether or not to answer. Finally, he said, “I
do not believe it would be prudent to reveal that at this time.” The general
was an intelligent man, and Rezkin knew the possibilities were limited. Marcum
could easily figure it out, but Rezkin had no desire to confirm his beliefs.

The general’s suspicions had
already grown into a budding tree. He was nearly certain of who and what Rezkin
was. Of course, it should have been obvious from the beginning. Actually, it
was
obvious, which is what raised the general’s suspicions in the first place. The
name alone should have been a dead giveaway. Initially, the idea had been so
far-fetched he had considered it to be a ridiculous flight of fancy, a bit of
paranoia. As it became more realistic, he simply did not want to admit to it.
Now, he could hardly deny it. One thing was for certain, though. He did not
want his niece anywhere near Rezkin, whether the man had Bordran’s trust or
not.

Aside from the king, there was
only one person the general truly feared before Rezkin appeared in his life.
Now, there were two. General Marcum cleared his throat and gathered his
courage. “Rezkin, despite the disdain with which I have previously treated you,
I do recognize both the authority and trust granted you by King Bordran. I
respect you for your honesty and the gentlemanly conduct with which you have comported
yourself at all times. However, given what I know about you, I cannot approve
your request regarding Frisha. You have said that you recognize me as her
guardian, and I hope you will respect my decision as such.” The general cleared
his throat and belatedly added, “Please, take no offense.”

The deadly young man’s icy eyes
stared unremittingly at the general as though they alone could slay him where
he sat.
And, perhaps they could
, Marcum thought darkly. Rezkin appeared
as a statue, a silent warrior seething for the opportunity to step from its
pedestal and release its wrath upon its foes like the vengeful God from which
it was conceived. His gaze was that of a lion sizing up its prey, deciding if
it was worth the effort it would require to take it down. Just as the general
was truly regretting his words, the young man slowly, but silently nodded once.

Lieutenant Jimson watched the
silent exchange with apprehension. He did not know what request Rezkin had made
regarding Frisha, but he assumed it was of a personal nature. He knew the two
had become close on their journey and had seen how besotted the young woman was
with the warrior. Jimson had known Rezkin was dangerous, but he could never
have imagined just
how
dangerous. The man was positively frightful. If
he had killed fourteen Weaponmasters in a single battle, then Jimson knew
little could defeat Rezkin, short of an army. The young man’s paranoia with
checking for poisons and traps was suddenly understandable. If someone truly
wanted to kill him, and it sounded like someone
did
, then the best way
to do so would be via some quiet, underhanded assassination. Anyone challenging
him openly was just asking for his own death.

After a few tense moments, the
general turned his attention to the other occupant in the room. “Captain
Jimson, it is time we addressed your involvement in my niece’s journey.”