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Rise of the Archon- Book 2, Chapter 62
🕑 Added 2025-02-19 06:40:21 +0000 UTCI had to grant one thing to the four would-be assassins. They were exceptionally quiet, so much so that I would have missed them if I did not have a partner as a watchdog. Or rather, a watch cat.
That phrase did not roll off the tongue quite as well, but I suspected Fortunatus would prefer it regardless.
The cat in question sat on the rooftop, and a strange thing happened. I could 'see' in a way through his eyes, almost like a half-remembered dream. And through his eyes, I 'saw' the assassins approaching from the north, creeping across the tiled roofs.
All four wore the same black clothes as the assassins who had nearly claimed my life, covered head to toe. They carried daggers, which I suspected were identical to the one that tipped my spear, but only one had another blade by their sides. Two more carried crossbows, while the fourth had what looked to be a club.
Wallace had stood and walked up beside me, whispering, "What're you talking about?"
I drew mana into my Arcane Body spell and replied, "We have company. Four on the rooftops above us. Somehow, I doubt they are friendly."
Wallace swore, and I silently agreed. I had known returning to Aranth was a risk, but I had hoped whoever was out to kill me at least used isolated assassins and mercenaries. Their resemblance spoke to an organization, and that was a much trickier thing to handle. Organizations tended to be wealthier and better trained.
But I had not returned to this city wholly unprepared for a fight. There was a difference between a gamble and suicide.
"Tell me when they are by the roof's edge," I said through my bond to Fortunatus, even as I gathered mana in my legs.
The feline sent back his affirmation, and I stretched my body out, rolling my shoulders and trying to loosen the tension in my limbs even as I reviewed my plan in my head. This was going to be tricky. Possible, yes, but tricky.
"Wallace," I muttered, feeling the metal mage shift beside me, "Stay here and try not to draw attention. If they come after you, stay out of reach of their blades. They will slice through your magic as easily as parting silk."
"What are you—"
"Now."
I looked up and saw the faintest glint of something near the roof's edge, where the moonlight shone off metal. Without hesitation, I released the Aether within my legs.
Force Step had never been a spell I was particularly proud of, even when I first made it. I considered it a clunky, wasteful, predictable thing that was insufficient for my needs and in desperate need of improvement. But time and focused practice had a way of smoothing out flaws, and I had invested plenty of both into my magic.
Once, 'jumping' onto a rooftop in one casting would have been impossible. It would require too much mana compressed with more power than I could generate, and even if I did manage it, my legs would shatter for my trouble. But I had honed my will. My Aether had grown denser, my core wider. Lastly, Arcane Body and Traveler's Armor, in concert, could more than handle the force.
I launched the fifteen feet up onto the roof, the cold iron tip of my spear leading the way. An assassin crouched there, their crossbow braced, but they seemed wholly unprepared for my jump. I heard the sharp inhale and saw them move to pull the trigger, but I batted aside their weapon even as I drove my spear through their chest.
Hot blood splattered against the front of my armor, sliding off it in thick streams. I grunted and ripped the spear free, throwing the first assassin aside as I gathered mana into another spell. The other three moved to engage me, quick and yet oh so slow at the same time.
Mana roared down my arm, and I flung my left hand towards them. Four bolts of compressed Aether lanced through the air, leaving burning emerald lines in the nighttime gloom. One sailed wide, missing entirely. Another was too low, burning a furrow into the tiles beneath our feet. The last two sliced into the leading assassin's chest, and they collapsed with a gurgle as their crossbow clattered from their hands.
The final two had nearly closed the gap, and I felt something rise in my chest at the sight of the cold iron daggers clutched in their hands. A part of it was fear, accompanied by an ache in my side, but there was something else, something I had felt once before when I dueled Flynn Sion.
Excitement.
The tiniest grin rose to my face, and I clamped down on the thrill running down my back. I had overestimated myself once and almost died as a result. Best not to repeat that mistake a second time.
Mana flowed through my right arm, and I swept it across my body at chest height. A wave of force magic followed the motion, crashing into the two at close range. One braced themselves, sliding back a few feet but remaining standing. The other, caught mid-stride, was thrown off the roof. I heard a shout and caught a scrambling sound that I suspected was a desperate attempt to pull themselves up. Before I could investigate further, the last of the four was on top of me.
This one was more skilled than the one from the ship. They used the same sword and dagger combination but moved with greater speed and dexterity than seemed possible for a natural human. Their attacks came from unorthodox angles and with staggered timing, and their footwork was exceptional, to the point where I could not gain any distance.
Surprise and aggression had been my greatest weapons, but now I was forced to fight without them. This little duel had become dangerous, and even a single mistake could spell death. It was a game with stakes far too high for my liking. So, I decided not to play.
I pulled on my core as I retreated, drawing half of it into my arms and the rest down to my legs. This was a trick I was far from mastering, but I did not need perfection. All I needed was to buy a brief moment of disorientation.
A short Force Step threw me backward and out of range. My boots slid on the tiles, and I crouched as I reached out with my mana, wrapping a "hand" around the assassin's leg. It was a weak grip, but just enough, and I pulled as hard as I could on the limb.
The assassin, already running towards me, stumbled and fell. Their sword clattered away, my telekinetic grip failed, and they moved to stand, but I was already above them. I drove my spear through their heart, twisted it, and tore it free in a single, brutal motion.
I gave myself a moment to catch my breath, then turned just in time to see the assassin I had almost thrown off the roof climb back up.
My core was almost empty, thanks to my liberal use of magic. I could feel the first hints of a headache behind my temples, my willpower felt a little strained, and my muscles ached even through the icy burn of Aether. I would need at least a day to recover when this was over.
When.
I spun the spear by my side and asked, "I do not suppose you could be persuaded to walk away?"
The assassin adjusted their grip on the metal-shod club in their right hand, shifted their feet, and charged.
This one was slower and less skilled than their ally, with a style focused on direct, efficient, and faintly clumsy strikes. I almost regretted saving this one for last. Dueling talented foes had a way of illuminating the flaws in my own forms, and that was the greatest tragedy of this whole affair. It was a waste of time, energy, and life.
Even though they were less skilled, there was no point in treating them with anything less than an abundance of caution. I pressed when I could, fell back when I had no choice, and gradually learned their patterns, pacing, timing, and reach. Momentum tilted in my direction, and the end came suddenly. I knocked aside their club and lunged in, and their dodge was a hairsbreadth too slow. My speartip sunk into their stomach, and I yanked it free even as I stepped out of range of any possible counter.
The last assassin shouted and stumbled back, clutching one hand to their stomach. Their dagger fell away, clattering off the rooftop and down to the street below, but they kept ahold of their club and held it up as if to ward me off. I respected the tenacity, even though it struck me as pointless. A wound such as that was fatal without immediate medical attention and debilitating regardless of their training.
I was about to say as much when something flashed in the moonlight. There was a wet thunk, and the assassin stumbled back a step with a soft grunt. A hilt stuck out from the center of their chest, still quivering from the force of the impact.
A second passed, and then the blade shot from his flesh as if pulled by a string. It flew past me, and I spun to see Wallace standing there, one hand extended to catch the sword hilt-first. It smacked into his palm, and he spun it by his side, sending a cascade of blood droplets splattering against the tiles.
The assassin slumped to the ground, and I could not so much see the blood as smell it. A faint tinge of iron hung in the air, and I felt a brief, potent surge of regret. Despite the thrill of the battle, these had been humans. I had killed some, yes, but the brutality of this one struck me in that moment.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and turned to Wallace.
"Thanks."
Wallace shrugged, a movement I almost missed in the moonlit gloom, and replied, "You warned me. I helped you. That's what partners do, right?"
I nodded slowly. "Does this mean you accept my offer?"
"Do I have a choice?" Wallace asked, "You just killed four assassins after leading them to me. Besides, the guards will be here within minutes."
"Ah..." I rubbed the back of my neck, "Good point. Maybe we should take this elsewhere? First, help me check them over. Take their daggers and anything valuable you find."
Wallace stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded and got to work. We searched all four bodies in under a minute, and by the end, we were left with four daggers, a pouch of coins, and unanswered questions. Hardly what I wanted, but better than nothing.
The three of us, Fortunatus included, climbed down from the roof and retrieved my backpack before returning to the streets. We moved fast, sticking to side streets to avoid guards and citizens alike. Aranth was not as populous as Volaris, but it was early enough that people walked the main roads.
Finally, we reached the eastern edge of Aranth. The gates into and out of the city were already closed, but the walls were short, only about ten feet tall at their highest point. A single Force Step carried me to the top, and the fall off the other side was relatively harmless thanks to my armor and strengthening magic.
Wallace followed, using his own enhancement spell. I caught hints of it and suspected that it granted him greater raw strength than mine, though his movements carried a sort of stiffness. Maybe I could inquire further once we were on the road.
With the city at our backs, we set off east. And hoped against hope that no one was following us with ill intent.
Comments
Narthor
Makes sense
JaceNight
I hope shes alright. They couldnt go to the shop, its too obvious it would probably be watched and draw attention to themselves.
Narthor
What about the other apprentice healer?
