Prologue- Angel of Death

9^th of Magra, Year 819 of Imperial Calendar (IC)

           

       The shadows wavered in the faint flickering of the torches that spanned the hallway, and had there been eyes to witness the spectacle, it would have seemed as if a swath of the darkness detached itself from its ephemeral brethren.  Unfortunately for the lone sentry who stood his watch over the otherwise empty corridor, the senses that would have alerted him to the dark silhouette skulking behind him had been dulled by the complacency of countless uneventful hours. 

His eyes widened in terrified realization as a hand clamped down around his mouth, the sharp steel of a dagger tracing a crimson line across his throat and silencing the cry that rose within him.  The figure clutched his victim in an unflinching grip as the guard's lifeblood sprayed from him like a macabre fountain, draining away the last of the soldier's strength.  A final exhalation of breath from the newly carved orifice and the sentry ceased his struggles, his body slumping to the cold stone for his replacement to discover at the changing of the guard.

Not so much as the echoing of footfalls testified to the assassin's passing as he slipped from one shadow to the next, seeming to appear and vanish again like some immaterial wraith that moved purposefully down the twisting corridors and bolted hatchways.  The heavy ring of keys snatched from the downed guard gave the intruder free passage, jingling ever so slightly as they slid into each lock barring the stranger from his mission. 

Few watchmen patrolled the subterranean hallways beneath the Imperial Palace, and those unlucky few who stood between the silent figure and his destination were dispatched as unceremoniously as the first, their lives flooding into pools of sticky red where they fell.  On this starless night, the assassin had no concerns for the trail he left in his wake.  He would be away from the morbid scene long before the first corpses were discovered, and the fear of knowing their supposedly impregnable fortress had been so effortlessly breached would haunt the survivors for fortnights to come. 

The crossing of several deserted passageways brought the assassin to a lone staircase, its stone steps winding tightly around a central pillar into the light above.  It was the final ascent that would take him to the sparse servant quarters that housed the cooks, maids, and others who were responsible for the day to day workings of the majestic palace and the sprawling grounds beyond it.  Even at so late an hour, the intruder could only hope that all were asleep as they should be. 

Even so much as a single squeal could bring the entire infiltration to an end, and possibly the assassin's life as well.  He took the stairs as hastily as he dared, his footsteps still making barely a sound as he moved like a cat stalking its prey, and soon found himself peeking through the keyhole into a long hallway lined with heavy wooden doors that ran along both stone walls.

Unlike the torches that cast their meager light amid the lower levels, the servant quarters were usually well lit by sconces placed in an alternating pattern crisscrossing the passageway.  After the last of the servants dragged themselves off to sleep; however, only every third sconce still bore a lighted candle, many of which had long since burned out.  The shadows would serve the intruder well, as they always had.  A quick turn of the correct key within the ancient lock was accompanied by a click that made the intruder flinch.  He opened the door cautiously and slipped into the hallway beyond.

            Slinking away from the light of a nearby sconce, he melted into the shadows and began picking his way through pools of revealing brightness to the sheltering embrace of the dark.  He had nearly reached the side passage that would take him to the next phase of his mission when his sharpened senses picked up an almost imperceptible noise that brought him to a sudden halt.  An agonizing span of breaths brought recognition to the sound, and soon a young woman clad in the plain grey and white garment of a maidservant rounded the corner whistling a jovial tune as she went about her midnight wanderings, oblivious to the eyes that watched from the shadows.

            "Oi, always so dark down 'ere," the woman, barely more than a girl by the smoothness of her freckled features, mumbled to herself.  "Given me the creeps, it is."

            From his concealment, so close to the girl that he could catch her scent of sweat and cheap perfume, the assassin's eyes widened as she pulled the candle from the nearest sconce and produced a tinderbox.

            "Be fixin' that, we will," she mused.

            Flint struck stone and spark became flame, but already the intruder was moving to escape the light, dropping beneath the girl's field of vision to deftly dive around her to the safety of shadows along the opposite wall.  A hair's breadth was all that spared him from detection as he rolled away and flattened himself against the stone, the maidservant nearly dropping the flint and candle as a slight rustle of movement tickled the hairs on the back of her neck.

            "Settle yerself, girlie," she muttered and shook away the sudden chill that spread down her spine.  "Ye be jumpin' at shadows again."

            A quiet sigh of relief escaped the assassin's lips as he rounded a corner and heard whistling resume behind him.  Too close.  He berated himself.  It would not do to be killing innocents unnecessarily, however appealing the idea might seem.

            The stairway at the end of the passage brought the intruder through the immense palace kitchens and into the empty dining hall of the common folk, a wide chamber lined with rough wooden benches and worn tables lit by plain iron chandeliers that had gone dim with the passing of nightfall.  Though not as deserted as the lower levels, the few guards who wandered the area were of little consequence, and thus allowed to live as the assassin passed imperceptibly through their midst and further into the heights of the Imperial Palace. 

Darkness became ever more fleeting as cold stone gave way to polished marble and finely woven rugs, elegantly wrought lanterns and braziers never allowed to dim amongst the residencies of the lesser nobles and high ranking soldiers of the Imperial Legion.  Still the intruder trudged onward, stopping only for the passing of a watchman or the few servants who worked the twilight hours. 

            A rush of cool night air filled his nostrils with the scent of trees and flowers as the assassin made his way out of the structure and into the expanses of the inner gardens, the gurgle of a manmade stream and trickling of dozens of towering fountains creating a deadly illusion of tranquility throughout the palace grounds.  Gilded lamps and sentries bearing lanterns did little to dispel the darkness that permeated the gardens, and the intruder moved easily beneath the boughs of great trees and across the cobbled walkways, the slight shuffling of his footfalls drowned by the jingling of weapons and the creaking of leather jerkins as patrols unknowingly passed him by.

            At the exact center of the palace grounds loomed the Imperial Sanctum, seat of power for the kingdom and home to the Council of Elders, various bishops in the constantly bickering religions, and the Emperor himself.  Its great spires and massive dome rose high atop the great island hill known as the Battlemound, where the birth of Imperial power was said to have taken place eight centuries ago.  It was at this very rise where the warrior king Riyvar Alminius had declared the founding of the Riyvarian Imperium following decades of bloody conflict with the rival Ashari.  It was also where the shadowed figure would find his destination, deep within the Sanctum's heavily guarded hallways.

            A broad wall of finely cut stone cut a towering swath through the palace gardens, lamps protruded from the wrought iron balustrade behind which Centurions patrolled with crossbows in hand, their chainmail shimmering in the light as they silently watched over their lofty post.  Unlike the lowly guardsmen whose duty was to protect the majority of the surrounding grounds, the highly trained and unfalteringly disciplined Centurions were not prone to the complacency that had seen so many of their comrades killed by the assassin's deadly hands.  The honor of guarding the seat of Imperial power was theirs alone, and any lapse in military perfection could see them stripped of their important positions.  Inattentive Centurions would therefore be few and far between.  The intruder would have to be more careful than ever to ensure the success of his mission and continuation of his life.

            The four main gates that gave entry into the Sanctum, each of which corresponded to one of the four cardinal directions, were heavily guarded by at least three Centurions throughout all hours, and even the many smaller entrances used by servants were always covered.  To most potential thieves and assassins who would consider breaking into the palace, the Imperial Sanctum was impenetrable, but this intruder had ensured his passage many days in advance. 

Halfway between the south and west gates, a small bush grew in a corner made by the wall's change in direction.  The silent assassin found the grappling hook that he had bribed a palace gardener to leave for him this very night, its bulk slightly padded to muffle the sound it would make against the stone.  After only a few test throws, the hook caught on a crack in the stone on the opposite side of the wall, precisely where the assassin's sources had said it would be, and he easily scaled the rope, the hook and its line coming with him over the other side so as not to be found by patrols. 

            Ditching the grappling hook in another bush and moving quickly away from the wall, the intruder slipped into the sheltering darkness of the nearby trees and made his way toward the gargantuan dome that dominated the skyline.  Though the gardens on the Sanctum's side of the wall were more lit than those before, the myriad of exotic trees and plants provided plenty of cover to mask the assassin's passing, and the cobblestones of the walkways again alerted him to approaching Centurions. 

It was slower going than he would have preferred, but soon he found himself slinking around the base of the central dome, to where a small door was cut into the stone, almost imperceptible behind a row of bushes.  A key purchased from one of the palace workers fit perfectly into the latch and the intruder slipped into the dark passageway beyond.  At last he was inside the legendary Imperial Sanctum, and his mission was nearly complete.

            Hallways twisted and rose as if around an axis, bringing the stranger steadily closer to the center of the structure and the hall of the Council of Elders that rested directly under the domed ceiling.  The immaculately prepared rooms that filled the passages were mostly unoccupied, reserved for foreign dignitaries visiting the capital, and few servants or guards were about at such a late hour.  Therefore, the assassin passed with ease toward his destination, flitting from shadow to shadow so deftly he seemed not to exist in the corporeal world.

            Voices drifted to the intruder's keen ears as he neared the chambers of the royal family, where the Emperor himself would undoubtedly be fast asleep in his bed, unaware of the danger that crept right outside his door.  At first, the assassin paid the whispering little heed, until the words began to take meaning at last.  His mission was too close to ignore, but something about the hushed conversation taking place in one of the nearby chambers caused him to pause.  Swallowing his trepidation, the assassin knelt before the keyhole and peered inside.

            The room beyond his tiny portal was scarcely lit, a storage space only that was filled with crates and barrels of various contents.  The two robed figures within undoubtedly wanted their meeting to take place with as much secrecy as could be afforded.  The assassin wondered if their presence had something to do with the uncharacteristic lack of patrols within the hallways near the Emperor's chamber.  In hushed tones, they spoke in words the assassin could hardly make out.

            "Have your operatives succeeded in deciphering the text?" the smaller of the two men spoke, his voice heavy with the subtlety of threat.

            "Translation is taking longer than expected, my liege, but it is nearly complete.  As we speak, I have our men scouring the countryside in search of more clues to the artifact's whereabouts.  It would be much easier, though, if we had the other half of the journey book," the other man replied.

            "You will make do with what has been given to you, general.  To expend anymore resources finding the remainder of the texts would arouse suspicions within the council.  We cannot have them questioning our work, or else they would surely turn the Emperor against us."

            "I assume he remains firmly in your control."

            "Do not question me, Sairus.  Our young Emperor remains an idealist, which makes him easily bent to my will.  I alone have his ear."

            "I did not mean to pry, sire.  It is just that we could both be stripped of our authority if any were to catch wind of what we are trying to do.  How are we to keep such an important task secret?"

            "Leave that to me," the smaller man said icily.  "I have recruited outside forces to fulfill our goals, though I know not precisely when they will make their move.  Our young Emperor will soon be of no consequence to us, and once we have plundered the ruins for their resources, none will stand in our way.  We will have supreme authority over the Imperium-nay, over the world itself."

            Footsteps brought the intruder's attention away from the secret conversation before he could fully contemplate its implications.  His head snapped back to the present and sent him through the door to his initial destination. 

            The room beyond was shrouded in darkness, perfect for the black-clad assassin's duties, the only light coming from around the curtains that were pulled shut over the chamber's four windows.  A massive bed of fine oak polished to a lustrous shine stood against the far wall, its sole occupant resting peacefully beneath the thick covers.  Scarcely more than a boy, the youthful Emperor looked even more inadequate in sleep, his smooth features bearing little resemblance to the line of brutal dictators who had preceded him. 

Like his father before him, Anthorius Silvus was a champion of the poor and otherwise downtrodden citizens within the kingdom, striving with his every waking breath to right the wrongs committed by those who came before.  However, he was young man still shy of his twenty-fifth year, with little knowledge on the workings of the world or of politics.  He thought his advisors within the palace incapable of the atrocious accusations often lain against them. 

It was for his ineptitude and idealism that the intruder had been hired to put an end to the Emperor's authority, which was fast becoming a thorn in the side of very dangerous enemies.  As he stared down at the slumbering youth, the assassin began to wonder about the conversation he had just overheard.  Had that man been the one responsible for the very contract the assassin was fulfilling?  It was a matter the assassin would have to consider when he had time for such distractions.

            A thin dagger appeared in stranger's grip, its blade coated with a fatal poison that would see even the heartiest of constitutions dead from so much as a scratch.  The assassin moved silently to the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping monarch as he held the deadly blade within inches of the young man's throat.  With a deftness that could have come only from experience, the stranger slipped the dagger behind the Emperor's ear and split his skin with the slightest of scratches.  Though not enough to show more than an almost imperceptible red line, it was more than enough to give the poison room to work.  As the assassin removed his blade and slid it carefully back into its hidden sheath, festering black roots had already begun to spread from behind the afflicted ear.

            The intruder was gone as quickly as he had come, checking the hall beyond before slipping through the doorway.  All according to plan, the figure thought as he slunk down the corridor away from the royal chambers.             

"Intruder!" was the startled cry of a roving guardsman.  That word was his last as the assassin drew a curved short sword from his hip and ran the man through. 

            However, the damage was already done as the cry of alarm was taken up by countless voices throughout the Sanctum.  The stranger had no choice but to run, his blade viciously lashing out at any who came into his path, servant and Centurion alike.  After several minutes of weaving down hallways, slashing and jabbing at indignant soldiers who tried to stop him, the hounded assassin began to rethink his plan of escape, knowing that soon the guards would mobilize and he would have no hope of surviving the night.

            "You!  Stop!" a man commanded as he came through a nearby doorway with sword in hand.

            The assassin narrowly dodged the downward swing of his assailant, shifting his positioning before diving headlong at the startled Centurion.  His shoulder caught the man in the ribs, momentum carrying them both crashing through the doorway from which the soldier had just came.  They fell to the ground in a tangle of limps, the intruder rolling away and lashing out with a kick, his heel connecting solidly with the other man's temple and knocking him unconscious.  Getting his breathing under control, the assassin hastily closed the door and set to work, removing his clothes and stripping away the guard's armor for a replacement.  In minutes, just as the sound of booted footsteps echoed down the hallway, the stranger had transformed himself into an infallible image of an Imperial Centurion.  The fallen man's sword in hand, the intruder stepped into the hallway just as four soldiers came to a sudden halt.

            "Nothing in this hall," the intruder said.

            "Very well, come with us," the leader of the troupe commanded.  "We're heading to the gardens to reinforce the guards at the wall.  Can't let this b*****d get beyond it or we've surely lost him."

            "Aye aye, Captain," the disguised assassin replied, recognizing the symbols of rank on the other man's armor. 

            Falling into step behind the others, the intruder made his way through the Sanctum unchallenged by any guards.  Only when the group passed through the gate and toward the palace's outer wall did the assassin break from the most useful part of his disguise.  As he slunk into the shadows once more and made his way through the gardens, the stranger could not help but smile; first at his own misfortune, and then at the ease with which he avoided certain disaster. 

            He joined up with no less than three more troupes, forcing him to backtrack several times before he finally found his way to a little known exit guarded by a single young soldier whose companion had abandoned him to join in the hunt. 

            "W-who goes there?" the frightened boy stammered.

            "Worry not," the intruder replied.  "I was sent to make sure none have passed this way."

            "No.  No, sir," the guard confirmed.

            "Very well.  Your services are needed in searching the gardens for the intruder.  I'll take over here."

            "Aye aye, Sergeant," the boy said, relief obvious in his voice as he took his spear in hand and trotted away to fulfill his duty.

            Taking the key given to him by the naïve young soldier, the intruder unlocked the gate and stepped through the palace's outer wall.  He could not help but chuckle as he marveled at his fortunes on what could have been a disastrous outing.  Amidst the gentle whisper of the wind, the assassin disappeared into the night.