04.10.08
Encounter With the Emperor.
Usually, when Maboroshi went still, he faded into the background. This time, though, he seemed to grow more distinct from the shadows – and Heizhan could sense why. Maboroshi was terrified.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor of White Castle, and Maboroshi stiffened. Heizhan casually tucked his hand into his sleeve, brushing his fingers along the hilt of his knife. Anyone who could scare Maboroshi had to be dangerous.
The Emperor of the Shadowlands rounded the corner and stopped, wearing a smile Heizhan once saw on his own face as he butchered a woman in front of her mirror. For long moment after long moment, no one said anything.
Heizhan twitched violently, palming his knife. As the Emperor’s cold indigo eyes slid over to Heizhan, Maboroshi stepped back behind the green-eyed man. One small hand slid something into Heizhan’s pocket; Heizhan could feel the gray man shaking.
Something in Heizhan snapped, and he slashed at the Emperor – who had seen the killing blankness slide over Heizhan’s face and dodged. A gloved hand swung up to grab Heizhan’s wrist -
- And passed right through it. The Emperor turned slowly toward Maboroshi, who was already dragging the stunned Heizhan through the stone wall behind them.
They emerged in a dim storage room. Heizhan, having managed to collect his wits, reached into his pocket and removed a small stone tablet. Incised on it were some symbols he couldn’t read; they shimmered with an almost-light at his touch.
“What is this?” asked the General.
Maboroshi was still shaking. “A variant on a ward. For intangibility rather than repelling. It’s about the only thing I still remember from my bard training.”
Heizhan extended the tablet to Maboroshi, who was staring blankly at the wall they’d just walked through. Heizhan sighed and placed the tablet on a nearby crate. “How many of these do you have?”
“Only the one,” said Maboroshi, still not looking at him.
A niggling suspicion entered Heizhan’s mind. “But you walked through the wall, too.”
Maboroshi seemed to find the wall utterly fascinating. He didn’t reply.
“Maboroshi?”
“You know he ordered me executed as a traitor.”
“Yes.”
Maboroshi closed his eyes, leaning up against another crate. “Who says he failed?”
Heizhan’s breath left him in a rush. After a moment’s fight with his lungs, he managed to say, “But you bleed.”
Maboroshi turned to look at Heizhan for the first time since his uncle had walked down the hallway. “There is more than one kind of ghost, Heizhan.”
The General and the Killer.
The last thing Lia heard before being knocked unconscious was a cheerful “Hello, General” in a sarcastic voice she’d hoped never to hear again.
The first thing Lia saw when she woke up was Heizhan sitting on a pile of rubble, grinning at her. The second thing she noticed was that he wasn’t actually holding a knife this time.
“Couldn’t find a decent kitchen?” Lia asked, raising one eyebrow.
“You’re clearly okay, if you’re making snide comments about my cutlery. I was starting to think I’d hit you too hard.”
“How long did you intend to knock me out for?”
Heizhan shrugged. “Long enough for me to drag you out of that cellar. I got you out in ten minutes, but you’ve been out for two hours.” He eyed her for a moment, then handed her a small bottle. Lia took it gingerly. “It’s pain medicine,” Heizhan said, looking hurt, as Lia sniffed the contents.
Lia eyed him, shrugged, and downed the dose. Her headache vanished, though some dizziness remained. “And which apothecary brewed this up for you?”
“None of them. I made it myself.” Heizhan grinned again at Lia’s look. “Did you think I was always a mad serial killer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe so, but it doesn’t pay the bills. And before you ask, I didn’t poison anyone.”
“Really.”
“Too boring,” the killer commented. Lia grinned.
“Why are you being so helpful?” the General asked after a moment. “They let you out so you’d turn on us, you know.” She watched Heizhan, her gold eyes sharp.
“I know.”
Lia waited. Three, two, one…
“It’s my country, dammit. I’d kill myself before I’d kill on the command of some terrorists.”
There it is, Lia thought. The pride of the Anunnaki.
Out loud, Annwn’s General said, “And on my command?”
Heizhan looked her over, dark eyes serious, then grinned.
The Killer.
Nathan had just enough time to register the presence of another person in the room before a strong hand clamped across his mouth and slammed him into the wall. The point of a boning knife glittered somewhere in the vicinity of his right eye.
No one had ever said Heizhan wasn’t good. In fact, that was the whole problem.
“Ordinarily, I’d torment you with some painfully witty comments, but today I feel like making an exception,” the killer said, adjusting his grip on his knife.
Nathan’s blow connected with Heizhan’s ribs right as Heizhan swung the knife. The sharp point tore across Nathan’s face, but Nathan’s punch had done its job – it had knocked his attacker’s knife off-target.
Heizhan swung again, wildly this time. Nathan broke free of the other man’s grip and struck out with all his formidable strength; something cracked in Heizhan’s shoulder, and the boning knife clattered to the floor. Heizhan staggered back a step, his right arm limp.
“Damn you,” he spat, eyes wild.
It was just as Nathan had thought – Heizhan had been counting on blinding him with that first slash. But Nathan’s resistance had thrown him off – and now the killer was losing what little self-control he’d managed to hold on to.
Heizhan’s face took on a peculiar blankness. He removed a paring knife from one pocket and dove for Nathan’s throat.
What is it with the cooking knives? Nathan wondered, awkwardly dodging Heizhan’s attack. Without missing a beat, Heizhan reversed the knife and stabbed downwards.
A strong dark hand clamped around Heizhan’s wrist, crushing it effortlessly; the paring knife joined the boning knife on the floor. Heizhan looked like he was strongly considering the odds of successfully biting out Nathan’s throat, but he remained still as Nathan’s other hand wrapped around his throat.
They remained like that, serial killer and almost-victim, until the others came. Pale hands roughly yanked Heizhan away; face set, Ekion dragged the criminal out the door. Lia watched them go, extending a hand to her son. Nathan took it; she pulled him to his feet, then hung on to him as he swayed.
“I’m taking you to Jetta,” she said, stooping to pick up the fallen knives. “You need to get that wound seen to.”
Nathan attempted a nod, then stopped as his head spun. Lia let go of his arm and slid her arm around his shoulders.
“Let’s go,” she said. They left the room without a backward glance.
Heizhan Thinks.
I.
If I didn’t know for certain he was still alive, I would have thought Maboroshi was a ghost. But no, I’ve felt the strong pulse that beats in his wrist, and I’ve seen the warm red blood that spills from him when he is cut. Still, though…
He is so gray. He fades into the background just by existing. Of course, part of that is his coloring and his choice of clothing – nothing melds with shadows quite like gray.
He’s the only person I’ve ever met whose personality can be described by a color, though. He fades away mentally, as well. When he’s not actually interacting with someone, he’s just not there. It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I want so badly to kill him, but Nathan would disapprove.
II.
Ekion is a simple, straightforward sort. He’s a guardsman – Nathan’s guardsman, at that – and he does his job quickly and effectively. There’s nothing more to him than that.
At least, that’s what everyone thinks.
It takes a peculiar sort of genius to be so simple; Teleika, from what I’ve seen of her, has some of that talent herself. But Ekion’s genius lies in his directness – he says what is on his mind, he does what he decides to do, and manages to put the most complex plots to shame at the same time.
Fortunately for us both, we will never cross each other. He is the kind of person I would have to kill, otherwise.
III.
He is, quite probably, the only person alive who would appoint his would-be killer to a government position. Not that I really wanted it, but Nathan was rather persuasive (if you consider a knife to the eye persuasive).
I still don’t know why he chose me for the job. I certainly don’t know how he got the Council to approve my appointment. You can’t threaten that many people at once. (Well, you can, but only if you want to end up on a one-way trip to the Phantom Islands.)
The thing that still amazes me is that the people I’m now commanding (the people I’m responsible for – curse him) actually listen to me.
Nathan says that they recognize an able commander when they see one. I think he’s optimistic.
Ekion says I remind them of my predecessor. I wonder what General Thaziazhsta did, that I remind people of her…
Most People.
Most people expected a general and a guardsman to be able to fight. The fact that the guardsman in question happened to be a cliff-wight and that the general happened to be a notorious serial killer only enhanced their reputation. Most people forgot that the General could barely use his left hand, and that Ekion had trouble seeing.
Most observant people recognized that Maboroshi was dangerous, too. Anybody who failed to notice the outlines of his hidden sheaths and threatened him anyway quickly learned one other thing about the aide – he could move like a snake. For all that, though, he’d had little formal training, and a skilled fighter could still get the upper hand.
Most people, though, seemed to forget that the king could fight, too. In fact, Heizhan mused as he watched the would-be assassin slip through the window behind Nathan, he was probably the best of them all, at least when it came to unarmed combat.
Heizhan winced as Nathan’s fist connected with the assassin’s ribs, remembering all too clearly how it felt to be on the receiving end of such a blow. The king hit like a mule kicks; Heizhan could hear the unfortunate man’s bones crack from all the way across the room.
The assassin wisely threw dignity to the wind and fled out the window. Nathan calmly returned to his seat.
The Council stared at him in varying degrees of shock. Heizhan could see Arawn in the background, laughing silently.
Most people forgot, the General mused, that the person who’d stopped a certain notorious serial killer, who could hold his own with the best of the Guard, and who had repeatedly avoided death at the hands of a skittish revenant, currently occupied the throne.
Three A.M.
Someone was sitting on his windowsill. It was practically impossible to see the gray figure in the dim light of an Anunnaki night, but then, Heizhan never needed to see anyone to know they were there.
Surreptitiously palming the small knife he’d secreted in his wrist brace, Heizhan moved noiselessly toward the window. “Who’s there?”
The shadow on the sill shifted; light from the room’s single lamp played across steel gray eyes. Heizhan’s hand tightened on his knife.
“Maboroshi.”
The gray man bowed slightly, still silent, still watching.
“What do you want? It’s three in the morning.”
“Judging by your past … activities, the time shouldn’t bother you,” Maboroshi said in his typical hoarse whisper.
Heizhan glared, feeling the old comforting fizzle of rage start deep in his gut. “What do you want?”
Maboroshi just watched him.
Minutes went by; the rage in Heizhan’s belly spread to the rest of him, burning its way out. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and hurled the knife with all his might.
The slim blade embedded itself to the hilt in the wall a foot from Maboroshi’s head. The exiled bard never flinched; after a moment, he slid off the sill, removed the knife, and extended it hilt-first to Heizhan. His eyes never left Heizhan’s face.
Heizhan seized Maboroshi’s hand, leaning in close. Blood trickled from between Maboroshi’s fingers, but the gray man simply stood there, without reaction.
“Why did you come here?” Heizhan asked, tightening his grip. He leaned forward so they were practically nose-to-nose.
“To check on something,” Maboroshi replied, sliding his hand out of Heizhan’s grasp. He moved to the window.
“And did I pass your little test?”
Gray eyes locked with Heizhan’s green ones. “More or less.”
Maboroshi vanished into the night, but not before Heizhan noticed him tucking a sharp-edged something up his sleeve.
Absently, Heizhan stuck his knife in his mouth, and stared into the darkness until dawn.
Heizhan and the Vampire, part 2.
Heizhan entered his rooms, locking the door behind him with a sigh. He slipped the killer’s sword from his jacket, idly wiping his blood off the blade as he crossed the sitting room. He stopped in front of the large window, drawing back the shutters and placing the sword down on the wide sill.
Unconsciously, Heizhan’s fingers traced the glyphs etched in the sword’s hilt. He didn’t need to read Ilin to know what it said. The Thaziazhstai were fanatical about accounting for their swords, and only one was missing.
So lost in thought was he that it took Heizhan a full minute to realize something was obstructing his view. He rubbed his eyes, focusing tiredly on the shape in front of him – and jerked back. Not something. Someone.
The killer knelt on Heizhan’s windowsill, his golden eyes fixed on Heizhan. The tattered red robe that had made him so damnably hard to see at sunset made the killer seem more real in the darkness – and eerier.
Heizhan was not generally a talkative man, and neither, it seemed, was the killer. They remained like that – Heizhan standing in his room, the killer perched on the window – for long minutes, observing each other.
The killer was tall – taller than Heizhan had thought, in the alley – and had the hard, lean look of a man who’d spent too long living by his wits. He had the dark skin and the gold eyes of the Thaziazhstai, but his long hair was white. His clothes were practical and worn; the only color to them was in the red robe, and the strips from that robe that he’d used to tie back his hair and bandage his arm.
The killer moved slightly, and removed a knife from his belt – Heizhan’s knife. “You left it in the alley,” he said, extending the knife hilt-first.
Heizhan didn’t move. The killer’s lips twitched in a fleeting grin, and the hand holding the knife moved.
Heizhan ducked back, pulling out another knife, but the killer was already there, his injured hand wrapped around Heizhan’s throat. Heizhan winced; the man was strong.
“I could have killed you when you first wandered over to your window,” said the killer, his breath tickling Heizhan’s ear. “I could kill you now, with ease. You surprised me in the alley, but you will not do so again. I want my sword.”
Heizhan didn’t even dignify that with a response.
The killer laughed. “Okay, that was a stupid request, perhaps.” He slid the knife up under Heizhan’s shirt, returning it to its sheath. “I will simply have to incapacitate you, then, and take my sword back.”
Heizhan tensed. The killer laughed again and pulled the tie from his hair, unwinding the long strip of fabric. With practiced ease, he bound Heizhan’s hands, then steered Heizhan over to a chair and knotted the free ends around its arm, then stood back.
Heizhan gave the fabric an experimental tug. The cloth felt like iron. Ice settled in the pit of his stomach, and he looked up.
The killer was looking down at him, smiling mirthlessly. “Steelcloth has many uses.” He turned towards the window – and the sword.
“Why don’t you just kill me?”
The killer brushed his hair back and looked over his shoulder at Heizhan. “So you can speak. I don’t want to.”
“Really?” Heizhan’s voice was laced with skepticism.
The killer ignored him and picked up his sword.
“Or are you just not hungry yet, Nathan?”
The killer froze, then smiled, being careful to hide his fangs. “You are smarter than you appear. Mother may have been right to pick you for General after all.”
With that, he was gone.
Heizhan vs. the Vampire.
Heizhan turned into the dark alley, freeing a knife from its sheath as he walked. Night was falling, and it was getting harder to see the footprints…
They stopped just ahead of him. Their abrupt end stilled Heizhan momentarily, and his hesitation almost cost him his life.
The General barely ducked out of the path of the sword blade – as it was, its point scored a line across the back of his neck. Heizhan hit the ground and rolled, cursing. Something about the angle of the blow was off…
As Heizhan came to his feet, drawing a second knife, he caught a glimpse of his attacker balanced on a low ledge running along the alley wall. Heizhan threw a knife at the shadowy figure – it was damnably hard to see him in the twilight gloom – and ducked as his attacker swung at him again. Whoever he was, the attacker had one hell of a reach, Heizhan thought as he dodged again.
The man jumped off the ledge, and with a sinking feeling, Heizhan realized how skillfully he’d been maneuvered. The alley was one of many dead-end paths in the haphazard city, and his would-be killer had just placed himself between Heizhan and the exit. He’d also placed himself with the setting sun at his back, shining straight into Heizhan’s eyes.
The sun…
The idea came to Heizhan in a desperate flash. As the killer swung again, Heizhan rolled under the blade, coming to his feet right behind the other man. Unthinking, the attacker turned, bringing up his blade, and got a faceful of sunlight. He was staggered for only an instant, but it was enough – Heizhan’s blade slashed deep into his arm, and Heizhan wrenched his attacker’s sword away with his free hand.
The killer looked at him for a long, still moment, then vanished into the gloom. Heizhan didn’t even try to follow.
Footsteps echoed down the empty street behind him. Heizhan turned, recognizing the singular silhouette of the Queen. Quickly, he slid the killer’s sword into his jacket.
He couldn’t let Lia see it. It would break her heart.
The Guardsman and the Killer.
The tips of five long talons poked through Heizhan’s shirt. He stopped, looking up into Ekion’s burning red eyes. “Claws extended already. Someone feels threatened.”
Ekion raised his other hand, talons poised to slash. Heizhan held very still.
After one long, tense moment, Ekion retracted his talons – mostly.
“I don’t feel threatened. I just want to kill you.”
“We only want to kill that which we fear. I should know.”
“Really.” Seriousness looked odd on Heizhan, Ekion thought.
“Unless, of course, you are a cannibal, and were planning on killing me for food.” Heizhan grinned, and Ekion felt oddly relieved. This Heizhan he could deal with.
“Can you?”
Ekion stared. Did he just -
“Read your mind?” Heizhan’s grin took on a distinctly feral edge. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just really transparent.”
Ekion choked back a screech of anger, and took a step forward.
So did Heizhan. Before Ekion could blink, the green-eyed killer reached up, took Ekion’s face in his hands, and pulled the guardsman down so they were eye-to-eye.
“I won’t hurt him,” Heizhan said, and released Ekion just before Ekion could summon the will to strike out.
“Why not?” Ekion asked as Heizhan reached the doorway.
Heizhan turned. “I have no idea.” He vanished out the door.
“He’s lying,” Nathan commented from the shadows. Ekion turned to look at his lover.
“I know,” he replied.
