An Assassin's Anthem

The roar of thunder filled the air. Footsteps sounded on the floor, and Riley looked up from her book. “Good morning, Lucas.”

“Good morning.” Lucas walked to his seat. “Gods, this is exhausting.”

“How bad?”

“The mages are low, and the fort is barely holding together.”

Riley sighed and looked back at her liberated book. Area attacks aren’t my strength, and combining void magic with anything except psychic magic doesn’t work.

Leaning against the wall, she shut the book. Do I try to get close enough? I do have some stamina left. Another explosion rolled through the barracks. She looked over and saw Lucas yawning. “How late were you up?”

“Late. They were pushing, and I needed to speak with A.”

“How is she?” Riley asked.

“Busy. Sadly, she couldn’t stick around,” Lucas said, looking over at the plate of food. He grabbed it and started eating.

“How do you know each other?” Riley asked.

“She’s my adopted mom,” Lucas said, a smile spreading across his face. “Stern, but it beat the streets.”

“Althea, a mom.” Riley chuckled. “I can see it.”

Lucas chuckled. “Yes. She likes her hugs and misses home.” He turned toward the door. “Where’s Roger?”

“He went to solve the necromancer problem with a pair of my knives.” Riley shook her head. “I hope he finds the answer.”

~~~

Roger surveyed the fort. I’m not spying, just taking in the sights. Peering into the fortified buildings, he shook his head. Soldiers were everywhere. They moved in and out of buildings. A rotation of mages lobbed spells toward the distant keep, and another group was busy arming a cannon.

Where’s that rotten necromancer? He triggered a skill and searched, locking onto a red outline in one of the buildings. There he is. He triggered a skill and tossed the two blades in his hand without a second thought, sending them straight through the wall.

His Danger Sense triggered instantly. Eyes turned toward him, and he vaulted off the wall while text flashed into view.

[Level 411 Necromancer Slain. You gain 309 XP.]

Landing on the ground, he hugged the wall and dismissed any idea of future harm. Skills lingered. He tried to push them off and sprinted, shooting away from the keep and across the field.

Bows twanged. Arrows flew, and Roger sped up, zigging and zagging his way back toward the fort.

Clouds churned. Fire flew, and stone slammed into view.

Thank the gods. Roger sped up, burning stamina and blurring back to the gate.

“How’d it go?” Travis asked, walking forward.

Roger skidded across the ground and slammed into the large, muscled man. “It was a ruse,” he answered. “They are packed with people in there. Some are a lower level, but the average level is higher than what we faced yesterday.”

“Condemnation. Did you get eyes on the necromancer?” Travis asked, huffing and looking upward. “Cover!” he barked and moved into a building.

Everyone raced out of the yard, and lightning cracked down, lighting up the yard and sending out a boom of thunder.

“I saw them. B-tier.” Roger grinned and gestured, drawing his finger across his throat. “He’s dead.”

“I’m not going to ask how you managed that,” Travis replied with a growing smile. “That’ll take some pressure off.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping. Can you provide cover?” Roger asked. “I need to sabotage a cannon and pick off the stronger mages.”

“We’ll warn you when we can’t,” Travis replied, walking deeper into the barracks. “Did it look like they’d attack?”

“When the cannon’s up, yes.” Roger followed him down the halls, moving quickly through the crowded room.

“And she’s out of commission. How close to C-tier?”

Roger shook his head. “I’ve told her not to put herself out of commission. So, a week.”

“That works.” Travis shook his head. “How’d her auras get so strong?”

“She sacrificed a lot of classes to noble,” Roger replied. “She wasn’t raised like most of them and qualified for a lot.”

“That explains the lack of servant requests,” Travis said, walking up to and knocking on a door.

“Come in,” Lucas shouted. He looked up. “You can leave it open.”

Roger walked over to his daughter, who was doodling without ink.

Riley looked up. “Have a nice trip?” She chuckled.

“It was eventful. I need another pair of knives.” Roger held out his hand.

Riley conjured and handed him two of them. He studied the transparent blades, which had an ethereal feel. Like holding solid air. Spinning them, he watched the light from the nearby lamp bounce off.

“Be safe,” Riley said, looking at him.

Roger nodded. “I will. I’m getting better at it.”

“Target the spotters if you need to,” Riley replied. “I can do this about two hundred more times.”

Roger smiled. “Good. We’ll wear them down.” He turned and headed for the door, pausing next to Travis. “Put guards in this hall. Be ready for assassins of their own. They will try even if it’s infuriatingly difficult.”

“We have Seeker Lucas right there,” Travis replied, gesturing toward him.

“And that’s ideal for catching them, but add guards.” Roger turned and walked down the hall, walking through the crowds and looking outside.

An explosion rolled through the air. Fire and steam filled the yard ahead. Roger sighed. I need that to stop. He jogged toward the wall while keeping his eyes open for any more of the madness.

Moving silently, he blended in with the stone and dropped over the ledge. Jogging slowly, he masked his approach while studying the wall, carefully observing the people who were clearly scouts.

Carefully observing the change in pressure, he made mental notes and guesses. A ranger walked along the ramparts. He gestured, and a mage poked up.

Roger didn’t think or wait. He threw the first blade, sending it looping through the air toward the Ranger’s chest. Aiming at the mage, he threw the second with blazing speed straight for the mage’s head.

The ranger’s eyes went wide. He dropped, and the mage conjured up a wall of stone. The blade went through it, and the mage crumpled.

Roger turned and ran, shooting back towards their fort while two kill notifications popped up. And that’s two down.

With a growing smile, he ran back to get another set of blades.

Like a clock, Roger soon found himself in a pattern. He’d sneak up to the fort, throw blades, and return.

The enemy fort replied in kind. Scouts appeared on walls. Skills flooded the grounds, and the Shorove mages unleashed a barrage of magic. Stone, fire, and electricity streaked through the air. It slammed into walls and the courtyard.

Pausing with a pair of blades in hand, Roger stood in the middle of the field and watched. Gods, I hate sieges. He frowned and watched mages countering mages. The occasional arrow streaked across the sky, only to slam into stone or ice.

The enemy gate opened. Roger’s eyes went wide, and he darted away. Their cannon thundered, and a massive metal ball shot across the field, slamming into the gate and ripping it from the wall.

The enemy troops spilled out and charged, streaming across the field. Roger paused and watched. His eyes flickered to the gate. Time for another scout. Ignoring the army, he prowled across the frozen field and headed for their gate.

Walking up to the wall, he waited and watched. Come on. Leave it undefended. As the stream of soldiers faltered, Roger moved forward and slipped through the gate. Pausing a moment, he shut it and slammed the bar down.

With a growing smile, he darted through the keep and stabbed a passing guard. The guard dropped, and Roger raced into the nearby smithy.

Heat wafted from a blazing forge. A half-dozen people were busy handling metal. One turned, and Roger slit his throat. Moving like a wraith, he flickered through the room, killing all of them.

As blood pooled on the stone floor, Roger picked up a hammer and tossed it into the forge. The bellows, tongs, chisels, files, and anything else useful went with it, thrown into the blazing flames.

Pausing momentarily, Roger studied the stone room, searching for any other tools or useful items.

Failing to see any, he grabbed the remaining hammer and walked out the door. The sound of bowstrings thrummed in the air. Roger ignored them, walking over to the gate and slamming the hammer on the thick metal bar that locked the metal gate.

The metal bent, and Roger spun, jogging over to the kitchen. Peering inside, he saw a dozen guards sitting outside. Walking up, he burned stamina and rapidly cut them down, slitting throats and stabbing the men in rapid succession. You need to leave stronger guards. Roger turned to the kitchen. But that would weaken your assault. Walking inside, he looked at the group of low-level cooks and servants.

Ignoring them, Roger ghosted forward and descended into the cellar once more. Hefting the hammer, he walked up to the closest barrel and smashed the staves, letting ale spill onto the floor.

Walking down the line, he repeated it, smashing barrels open and letting liquid run across the floor. Turning to the shelves, he cut the bags of food open, spilling grain everywhere. Turning back the barrels, he smashed them open, sending potatoes and carrots rolling across the floor to mix with the ale and other mess.

Smashing the last of them, he turned and contemplated killing the cooks.

[Don’t. ~Death]

Roger didn’t argue. He ghosted up the steps and looked around the courtyard. It was largely empty; most of the troops had left. Ascending the nearby steps, he darted up to the nearby scout and stabbed them in the heart. As the scout slumped to the ground, Roger pulled out the dagger that Riley had made.

Feeding it stamina, he turned and dragged it through the glowing runes etched into the stone. Ah. This was foolish of them… assuming we keep the fort.

Ducking behind a post, he frowned and waited. I’ll have to get back.

A scout walked forward and nocked an arrow. Roger flickered like smoke. Wafting forward, he cut her throat and set her on the ground.

Racing to the next, Roger kicked, launching the scout into space. Like a charging bull, he blasted down the line, sending scouts flying off the wall. They flailed and slammed into the ground.

Some got up and shouted. Roger ignored them and sliced through another enchantment before jumping off the battlements and landing outside. Time to check on the fort. He raced toward it.