18
VALEK
Over the next two days, Valek read through all the files, discussed the smugglers with Ari’s team and assigned a new squad to the Commander’s personal security detail.
Happy with Ari and Janco’s strategy, Valek watched them depart the castle complex that morning. Janco and Onora headed south while Ari and Gerik went east. Janco had been in high spirits, and by the crease in Onora’s forehead, she would either kill him by the time they reached their destination or ditch him. If she was smart, she’d discover how useful he could be when he wasn’t driving a person to distraction and when he was—Janco was talented like that.
Valek returned to his office to finish preparing for his mission to MD-2. A light knock on the door interrupted him an hour later.
“Come in,” Valek said. He grasped the handle of his knife.
A young page entered. The boy held out a rolled parchment as if it was a shield. “Message for you, sir.” His voice quavered.
Valek took the message. “Thank you.”
The page nodded and bolted.
Amused, he broke the seal and unrolled the message. His grin widened when he realized the note was from Yelena. But soon his humor faded as he translated the text. The Sitian Council should be assassinated. He wished Yelena hadn’t talked him out of it when the Council had handed Sitia over to those Daviian Warpers. Why wouldn’t they warn her about Ben? Valek’s fingers twitched. A sharp knife pressed to a Councilor’s jugular would certainly help loosen his tongue.
Fear replaced anger when he finished reading the message. Yelena, Leif and another magician were headed to Fulgor—probably there by now. Despite the fact he couldn’t go, Valek calculated how fast he and Onyx could travel to Fulgor from here—about four and a half days. The Commander had ordered him to keep out of it, and besides...Yelena was more than capable of defending herself. Plus she had Leif and another magician. At least she was being smart and cautious for once.
Although the desire to assassinate the Council still pumped in his heart. It’d be so easy. He could kill every one of them in a single night. Valek already knew the location of all their apartments in the Citadel, thanks to his alter ego Adviser Ilom. While pretending to be Ambassador Signe’s aide six years ago, Valek had had plenty of time and opportunity to explore the Citadel. Time he hadn’t wasted.
Assassinating all the soldiers who’d murdered his brothers hadn’t been easy. After Lieutenant Fester’s body had been discovered, security had increased and an investigation had been launched. Valek had kept a low profile and continued to gather intelligence about the soldiers in the garrison while working as a stable boy.
It took a full season for the guards to relax and lapse back into old habits. Valek carved more statues as he waited another couple of weeks just to let them get comfortable. And when Second Lieutenant Dumin returned early from his patrol the day before Sergeant Edvard left for his sweep, Valek celebrated. His patience had been rewarded and killing those two murderers in one night would be sweet.
When the sounds of the garrison settled into the nighttime quiet, Valek slipped from the stable and crossed the complex. So familiar with the layout, he could have navigated the way to the officers’ quarters blind.
As he scaled the outer wall, Valek remembered his brother Viliam, who had been the prankster of the family and the only one with gray eyes. The others had brown like their father and Valek’s blue was inherited from their mother. Dad liked to joke that he would accuse the mechanic of improper behavior, except Viliam’s twin, Victor, looked more like Dad. Of course, Dad wasn’t laughing when Viliam had booby-trapped a container of leather dye. Their father walked around with black hands and arms for two seasons. Viliam wisely kept out their father’s way during that time.
The image of Viliam’s shocked and confused expression as a sword pierced his heart replaced Valek’s fond memories. The weapon held by the soon-to-be deceased Second Lieutenant Dumin.
When he reached the fourth floor, Valek found Dumin’s window and paid the man a visit. Just like he had with Fester, Valek woke him and informed him of the reason he was about to die. And just like Fester, Dumin pointed the finger at Captain Aniol.
“Not good enough,” Valek said as he plunged his knife into Dumin’s chest, angling the blade so it slid between the ribs and pierced the man’s heart.
Cleaning the blood off his hands and blade on the blanket, Valek studied the dead man’s face in the moonlight. A sense of rightness pulsed in his chest. Talk about the ultimate prank. Valek believed Viliam would agree. He placed the statue of Viliam on Dumin’s chest.
Valek hurried to reach his second target. Sergeant Edvard stayed in the barracks and would be much harder to kill since he roomed with three other sergeants. Victor had shared a room with Viliam and, despite being twins, the two were opposites. Serious and thoughtful, Victor had been born first—a fact he never grew tired of reminding Viliam about every time the other wanted to include him in one of his schemes.
Of all his brothers, Valek had looked up to Victor. Even though his broad shoulders and thick muscles made others believe he’d be the bully of the family, Victor had a calming presence in tense situations. He also could be very protective if provoked, and when the soldiers had drawn their swords that horrible day, Victor had stepped in front of their father without hesitating.
Too bad Sergeant Edvard didn’t pause before he sliced the edge of his blade along Victor’s neck. Valek would never forget the angle of the blood as it sprayed from Victor’s throat like a morbid waterfall.
The barracks consisted of four two-story buildings. The long structures lined the inside of the garrison’s walls, one along each side. Edvard slept in a room in the west end of Barrack B on the second floor.
As Valek approached the barrack, he kept close to the shadows. A lesson he learned well—night and shadows were an assassin’s best tools. Soldiers patrolled the top of the walls and had a good view of the courtyard if they turned around.
Unfortunately, Edvard’s room lacked a window and the closest one opened into a large area full of bunks for the new recruits. Good thing this wasn’t the first time Valek had entered the building. He’d been practicing while Edvard had been on patrol.
Grabbing the doorknob, Valek turned it in one smooth motion. Too slow and the damn thing would have squealed. After Fester’s murder all the doors in the complex had been locked at night, which gave Valek plenty of practice in using his lock picks. But their laziness had returned and now he didn’t need to waste the time. He slipped inside the building and closed the door behind him.
He waited for his vision to adjust to the semidarkness. A few lanterns remained lit in hallways and the stairwells so if the soldiers were called for an emergency in the middle of the night, they wouldn’t break their necks. Listening to the various soft sounds of many sleeping men, Valek ensured no one was awake before moving.
The old wooden steps to the second story needed to be climbed with care. His first attempt up these stairs resulted in a series of loud squeaks, which woke up a few soldiers who came out to investigate. With his heart hammering in his chest, Valek had scrambled up the wall and clung to the ceiling rafters like a large black spider. Too bad he didn’t have the spider’s eight limbs as his tired at an alarming rate and sweat slicked his grip. Just when he’d thought he’d fall on the men, they returned to bed.
This time, Valek knew where all the noisy spots lurked and he ascended to the second floor with nary a squeak. He ghosted down the hallway to the third door on the left. He pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. Turning the knob, Valek eased into the small room that contained two bunk beds and four trunks. He left the door ajar to let in some light. One of Edvard’s roommates was out on patrol, so only three men slept inside. Two on the top bunks, and one on the bottom—Edvard.
Valek wished he could inform Edvard why he was about to die like he had the others, but that was impossible, so he crouched next to the bed and studied Edvard’s body position. He’d have only one chance, otherwise the noise would wake the man’s roommates.
Edvard slept on his side, facing the wall. Valek pulled his knife. Stretching out both arms, Valek clamped his hand over Edvard’s mouth while simultaneously slicing deep into the man’s neck. Edvard jerked and a muted gargle came from his opened throat. Blood splashed against the wall and soaked into the pillow.
Valek pressed his hand to Edvard’s mouth until the man stilled. His roommates didn’t make a sound, but Valek had forgotten one important detail—the smell. Very soon the stench of blood, feces and urine would wake the sleeping men. Setting the statue of Victor on Edvard, Valek bolted.
He made it halfway down the stairs before the shout echoed on the wooden walls. No longer caring about being quiet, he raced down the steps, heading for the door.
Yanking it open, he dashed out just as another shout cried, “There he is.”
Boots pounded, swords rang, voices yelled and called his position with heart-stopping accuracy. In his panic, he’d run right through the courtyard—visible to all. Rookie mistake. More soldiers poured from the other barracks.
Once he reached the far side, Valek slowed and glanced back. A swarm of soldiers followed a half dozen paces behind him. He wouldn’t be able to outrun them, but perhaps he could outsmart them. Valek dived into the shadows along the next barracks, then scaled the wall to the roof and lay flat.
He drew in deep breaths in an effort to stifle the desire to gasp for air. As the bulk of the soldiers passed his hiding spot, Valek knew it would only be a matter of time until they found him. He needed to give them a target or a direction.
Valek rolled over and studied the activity on the wall. Soldiers rushed back and forth, trying to spot the intruder below. They tended to cluster together as if more sets of eyes would improve their night vision. If Valek timed it just right...
Rolling along the roof, Valek traveled to the edge closest to the wall. He peeked over, searching for soldiers before sitting on the edge. Valek rubbed his damp palms along his pants and then reached across the two-foot gap. Running the tips of his fingers over the stones, Valek found small holes and ledges to grasp. Thank fate the garrison was one of the older bases. If it had been a new construction, the wall would have been too smooth to ascend. He stretched out his legs, seeking toeholds and locating secure positions. Well, as secure as this section of wall allowed.
Next was the hard part. Valek needed to transfer his weight to the wall without falling or alerting anyone to his presence. Either would result in his death. He mentally counted to ten, concentrating on steadying his jumpy heart. Valek had to be one hundred percent committed to the action. Any hesitation would result in failure.
Leaning forward, Valek launched. His fingers and arms strained to hold his body against the stones as he dug in his toes. One foot slipped, sending a rain of crumbling mortar to the ground, but he found another toehold before sliding any farther.
Valek pressed his hot forehead against the cold stones. He waited for a cry of discovery or for his abused muscles to give way. But he stayed strong. After he had struggled with clinging to the ceiling of the barrack’s stairwell, Valek had worked on strengthening and endurance. Nice to see all those hours of lifting hay bales had paid off.