Assassin's Aria, A Dark Fantasy Novel: Assassin's Song, Book Three

By Michael Cairns

What life well lived carries not a trace of guilt?

War has come to Rechek.

The Southlands hold the savage northlanders in contempt and the time has come to spread the word of the Goddess to them, to bring them into her light. Lissa has other plans, and she’s got an army big enough to enforce them. But Silivist is already one step ahead and she’s got other things on her mind...

Meanwhile, Miskil is bringing his army to the plains of Selen, intent on bringing an end to the greatest city in Rechek.

Aryan has buried his friend and has only one thing on his mind. Miskil must die and the Stone of Rechek must be reclaimed, to finally bring an end to the walkers. But Tast is far aware and Aryan doesn’t know how many people he can lose before the guilt consumes him.

Assassin’s Aria ends Aryan’s epic quest for freedom, from both his guilt and the walkers who have ruled his life. He isn’t the only one searching for freedom, though, and everything the friends have fought for is balanced on a knife edge.

Click 'buy' to lose yourself in Assassin's Aria, the explosive conclusion to The Assassin's Song...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Cairns
• Release date: Feb 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781909699427

Michael Cairns

Michael Cairns was born at a young age and could write even before he could play the drums, but that was long ago, in the glory days - when he actually had hair. He loves chocolate, pineapple, playing gigs and outwitting his young daughter (the scores are about level but she's getting smarter every day). Michael is currently working hard on writing, getting enough sleep and keeping his hair. The first is going well, the other two...not so much. His current novels include: > Young adult, science fiction adventure series, 'A Game of War' 1. Childhood dreams 2. The end of innocence 3. Playing God 4. Breathing in space 5. Escape 6. Gateway to earth > Urban fantasy super-hero series, 'The Planets' 1. The spirit room 2. The story of Erie 3. The long way home >Paranormal horror post apocalyptic zombie series, 'Thirteen Roses' 1. Before (Books 2-6 due for release in spring)

Book preview

Part One

436 AL

Aryan

The Assassin’s Guild

Aryan led Hyliria out into the sunlight and they stood, blinking and dazed. His vision was still affected by the spell that had enabled him to see in the darkness of the Guild and the world spun in shades of purple and vermilion. He tried to speak, but instead the tears he hadn’t thought were in him broke free and he sunk to his knees, sobbing. She touched his shoulder and he squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the urge to vomit. He dared not look up at her. He heard the creak of leather as she crouched beside him, the sound oddly loud in the still of the afternoon.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder and he couldn’t help but look at her. She was gazing at him with gentle, caring eyes. It was the last thing he expected and the last thing he could handle. He coughed and staggered away from her, knees scraping against the rock as he tried to escape. How could she look at him like that? How could anyone after what he’d done? He didn’t know whether he meant Darryl, or Darryl’s mum and Lana, or even his dad. Every wound, every mistake, hurt just as much as it had ten years ago, or fifteen, or just hours.

He looked back, needing to see accusation or hatred, anything but the compassion that was there, burning through him, He curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees and falling on his side. The world went away and he lost himself.

When he returned, the sun was lower and the peaks cast fierce shadows over him. Hyliria sat a few feet away with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. Her eyes were red and her lips wobbling, but when she spoke, her voice was steady.

‘Will you get him? Please?’

He nodded, unable yet to speak, and stood. His legs ached from being curled tight and he stumbled as he took a step toward the Guild entrance. Hyliria flinched, reaching out to him and he winced and righted himself. He struggled past her and into the tunnel, burrowing into the darkness. He was entering a grave, digging his way down into the damp soil to find bones and rot and loneliness.

It was a grave now and despite the weight that sat on his chest like a boulder, he wondered at the utter destruction of something as old as Rechek herself. The Assassin’s Guild had been here for hundreds of years. People had been killing other people, and getting paid for it, for as long as there had been people. Now it was gone.

The darkness swallowed him and the spell kicked back in, the strange glow lighting up the cavern around him. He scampered to the dining hall, not wanting to investigate what lay down the other tunnels. He could imagine and, as he stepped into the hall, he realised he didn’t need to. Anything he could imagine would be a pale shadow in comparison to this.

He picked his way through the bodies until he stood above the corpse of his best friend. He had to focus on it and believe it had happened, because every fibre of him was still denying it, acting as though it would suddenly change, or that he could change it. He bent, took hold of Darryl beneath his shoulders, and began to drag him slowly through the dining hall.

It was a longer and more difficult journey than any he could remember. The sun was gone by the time he reached the main tunnel and despite the cold he was bathed in sweat. But he kept moving until he hauled the corpse out beneath the moonlight.

The night was still, the Constellations blazing above him, above them. Hyliria crept over, looking everywhere but at the body. Finally, though, she did look, and the first sob rose from her. She sunk slowly until her hand rested on his chest and her lips brushed his forehead. Then she lowered her head to his chest and sobbed.

Aryan turned away, needing to run and hit things, to scream and shout. But he could only find the energy to take a few steps before he sunk to the ground and slept.

The sun jarred him awake and he rose quickly, reaching for the dagger at his belt. He’d slept too deeply. The walkers could have finished him before he’d even woken up. Perhaps that would have been better. Now he had to face her, and the body. He wasn’t sure at what point in the long climb out of the Guild it had ceased being Darryl and become the body. He’d seen plenty in his time, enough to know that when the light left the eyes, whatever remained was no longer the person it had once been.

He crept to where Hyliria was sleeping, pressed against the cold body of her lover. She was young, younger than he’d realised, and very pretty. He walked from the stone plateau between the steep cliffs that guided people in. Beyond, he found green grass and scrub, but nothing he could burn or make a pyre from.

They kept wood inside the Guild, but the thought of going back in there made his skin crawl. He sneered and turned back, stomping straight past the body and Hyliria to plunge into the darkness. With sleep the spell had gone and he hesitated. He’d walked these hallways so many times he didn’t need light, not now he knew there was no one in here. He stomped, running a hand down the tunnel wall as his boots filled the silence.

It took him back to Sceal, to him and Darryl as kids, running their hands along the wall to enjoy the thud-thud-thud as their fingers bashed over the wooden planks. The wall had seemed so high, then. He coughed and cleared his throat. He found the tunnel that would take him to the upper plateau and soon emerged into the morning sunlight.

The wood store lay within another tunnel, across the stone where his master had burned twelve years previously. It was full still, filled for a winter those lying within would never see. He swallowed the lump still lodged in his throat and began to pull logs out, take them to the edge of the plateau, and throw them off. He sweated, but welcomed it just as he welcomed the burning in his shoulders and back.

Finally satisfied, he left and padded back through the Guild. Hyliria was awake and staring wide-eyed at the pile of wood on the other side of the plateau. Aryan began collecting it together and a moment later, Hyliria came to join him. She lifted the logs and placed them carefully atop one another, building a platform.

‘You’ve done this before.’

‘My father.’ She nodded. ‘He became sick and they wanted to take him to the temple. They take everyone to the temple, but my mother didn’t believe. So we burnt him before they could come. Then they took mum, so I ran.’

That was it. She bent to the task while his mind reeled and tried to keep hold of what she’d just shared. She was from the South, he knew that, but what was the temple and what had happened to her mum? She’d been a whore and in Selen that was neither dishonorable nor a bad income. He’d assumed she chose it, but maybe not.

They finished the pyre and walked together back to the body. Between them they lifted him and struggled across to the piled wood, then placed him atop it. There was a moment of silence, so deep he wondered whether they were the only two people in the world.

Then she broke it. ‘Do you have fire?’

He nodded as he pulled flint from his pocket, knelt, and stuffed the kindling in between the logs. She put a hand on his shoulder.

‘We should speak, before…’

He nodded and rose to his feet. He turned to her and she gestured for him to speak.

‘We commend Darryl to the flames. I…’

He took a deep breath and stared at her, searching for the right words. He’d never needed words and, when he had, Tast had been there to provide them. That or Darryl had been there to take the piss enough to force them from him. What would he say right now?

‘Darryl was my brother and my friend, and I can’t imagine life without him. He is the reason I am who I am, and I wish…’

He stopped again, blinking rapidly. He turned away, the words refusing to pass the lump in his throat. Hyliria put her hand on his arm and smiled at him, and he felt the first tear run down his cheek. She turned to face the pyre and her voice was steady and clear.

‘My people would say that Darryl has returned to the Goddess. I don’t believe that. I did, not long ago, but not anymore. Darryl has ended, he is no more. But he lives still, in my heart and my head and my memories. Darryl was blessed in life with friends for whom he cared more than I have ever cared for anyone.’

She turned to Aryan and he saw her tears glinting in the sunlight. ‘Darryl was blessed with you. To have someone like you in your life is an amazing thing and I am only glad I got, through him, to understand that. I love Darryl, the only man I ever have, and I will miss him.’

She turned back to the pyre and Aryan heard the steel in her voice. ‘He died for a reason, however meaningless that is right now. I will make that reason matter however I can.’

She turned back to him and they nodded at one another. Then Aryan knelt and struck the flint until flames leapt up beneath the logs. They caught the oil-soaked wood and he jumped back as the fire roared into life. Hyliria came to stand beside him and wrapped her arm around his waist. He tensed, but she stayed put, and he slowly relaxed as the flames removed the final trace of his friend from the world.

They stayed one more night, creeping into the entrance of the Guild to shelter from the cold. When they emerged the next morning, the weather had turned. Sea-grey clouds scudded fast across the sky and light drops of rain caught them as they dashed for the horses. Aryan took one final glance back as they left, but all he saw was a pile of ashes and a cave mouth. Grave markers, nothing more.

They were silent until they reached the grassy expanse that ran across the top of the range until it met the path.

‘Where are we going?’ She asked.

‘I have two tasks. I need to find my friend. Once I find him, I have to hunt a man. The hunt will be long and dangerous. I think we need to take different paths.’

‘I have as much desire and as much right as you to put the knife into him. I am coming with you.’

‘I will be more successful without you. I can travel faster and take risks I won’t take with—’

‘You can take all the risks you like, I won’t slow you down, and I’m coming with you.’

He heard the steel she’d thrown at Darryl so often. This was an argument he wasn’t going to win. He pressed his lips together and stared across the grass. The question remained. Where were they going?

‘We have to find Tast, assuming he lives. He won’t have returned to Hallish, so we go south to Selen. There’s a place there we meet, if we get separated.’

‘What of the man we hunt?’

‘We find Tast, then we hunt. I imagine he will be easier to find. We follow the bodies.’

She dug her heels into her horse and he followed her, heading out across the mountains. In the distance, thin trails of black smoke still rose from the battlefield.

Tast

The Mountains of Loss

The wind yanked at him, ethereal fingers tugging at every piece of clothing however tightly he pulled them around himself. She was roving ahead, clinging to the rock like a mountain goat, traveling hand over hand as though there wasn’t a drop of thousands of feet below them. He glanced down and the vertigo swum up, making the world spin. He ground his teeth together and clung on.

He could hear the walkers even with the blank cliff that lay between them. It wasn’t blank, of course. He felt like he knew it intimately, every nook and cranny to which he’d clung as he made his way out into space. This had been his idea, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he’d ever thought it was a good one.

Aryan climbed. He loved it, said it came from his time in the Guild. How could anyone love this? They were going nowhere, running from creatures that could just as easily be waiting below, or on the far side of this peak where a path waited, teasing him.

He faced the rock, doing his best to block out the wind that screamed and bashed itself against the rock face. He ignored the walkers who lurched and shifted to his left. He ignored his companion as she moved further and further away into the darkness. He had just run from an army of walkers, an army that should be impossible, and there was no way he was dying by falling off a bloody cliff.

Inch by inch he moved, one hand hold at a time, until the night and time and the wind lost all meaning. It was him versus the mountain and the force that tried to suck him down into the darkness. He would win because he refused to lose and, while that may not be the strongest battle cry, it was all he had.

A voice was calling to him, carried on the wind and then snatched away, but it grew louder until he heard the words.

‘You’re almost there, Tast, just keep going, almost there.’

He glanced to his right and nearly lost his grip. Saffron stood only a few feet away, clinging to the rock with only one hand as the rest of her hung out over the abyss. The wind whipped her hair about her face, but her hand stretched towards him and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab it. As he relaxed his hold on the cliff, his body tensed and he wobbled. The wind picked up and, for a brief moment, there was space between him and the stone. He was falling.

He let out a high pitched howl that made his face burn as he clasped the rock. He stayed stuck to it, taking deep breaths and waiting for the thudding in his chest to slow. It took longer than he wanted, but he managed to prise his hand free and reach for the next hold. After that, he took the next, then Saffron grabbed the back of his tunic and helped him take the final step onto the flat stone.

He ran from the cliff edge and sat down with a bump. His legs and arms shook as though he had a fever, so he lay down to take the pressure off them. He could have happily stayed there forever, but Saffron’s face appeared above his with the smallest of grins attached. ‘As happy as I’d be to leave you to freeze, we need to find shelter.’

She grabbed one of his hands and hauled him upright before setting off. The platform along which they crept was narrow, nothing more than a lip that ran around the mountain peak. He stayed close to the wall and kept his eyes fixed on her departing figure which, even in his present state, he could appreciate. They followed the curve far enough for the cliff and the walkers on the far side to disappear before they found the first cave.

It was shallow, barely three paces in, and they left it to search further. The next few were the same, but the sixth ended not with a blank wall, but a darkness that promised sanctuary from the storm, and they headed in. The light went quickly and they stumbled on, hoping for somewhere flat. Eventually, the floor levelled out, and they collapsed to the ground and slept.

Tast woke to a darkness so complete he held his hands in front of his face yet struggled to believe they were there until he touched his nose. He could hear her breathing, slow and soft enough to convince him she still slept. He rose stiffly to his feet and paused, listening.

The wind that had raged the previous night was gone and he found the silence almost overwhelming. He groped until he found the wall and followed it, heading up until a sliver of light showed him the rock beneath his feet. He sped up, anxious for sunlight, and burst out onto the ledge.

The sun was high, beating down sharply into his eyes. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes to slits, letting the sun warm his skin. He breathed in the crisp morning air and, as he breathed out, his shoulders dropped and his head fell limp to his chest. What had happened last night? How the hell had they escaped?

He shivered, despite the warmth, as he recalled the laughter that had chased them down the mountain. He’d been sure they were dead, but the cliff had emerged from the darkness and they’d ventured out before either had time to question the wisdom of it. Now…

He stared about him. The ledge they were on continued along the mountain and he trekked slowly round. It curled almost the complete way round the peak and he was puffing by the time he reached the point where it fizzled out and became another flat rock face. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach he returned to the cave. The path went nowhere, which meant they had to go back the way they came. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.

He trudged past the opening and back to the cliff, but froze as he rounded the curve. The walkers were still there, fifteen or twenty of them gathered at the edge of the mountain. They would wait forever. He backed away in the hope they hadn’t spotted him. Not that it made much difference if they had.

He crept back to the cave, but not before searching the ledge. He came up with a stick not much longer than his arm, but thick. It was better than nothing and he carried it with him as he headed back into the darkness.

‘Tast?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ What else was he going to say? He was pleased she couldn’t see the red that crept into his cheeks. He took slow steps, hand outstretched, until it met something warm and soft. She shrieked and shoved him onto his arse. The stone of the cave was covered in fine sand that broke his fall just enough for him to chuckle instead of swearing.

‘There you are.’

She was silent for a moment before apologising. He briefly told her what lay outside the cave.

‘So what now?’

She was asking him? That was a turn up for the books, especially considering how badly he’d handled himself coming across the cliff last night. Instead of answering, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around the top of the stick. He pulled out the small flask of oil he kept at his belt and trickled a tiny amount on the handkerchief, then used flint to strike a spark.

Each time he struck the stone floor, the cave lit up and her face became visible for the first time since they’d fled twenty four hours ago. He groaned softly, trying to focus on the task at hand. Even with the tired eyes and tense, creased forehead, she was still breathtaking. A spark caught and his handkerchief went up, the flames licking greedily at the small cloth.

‘We’ll need more material if we’re to keep the stick.’

Without prompting she removed her outer tunic and took a knife to it, cutting it into long strips. She handed him the first one and he wrapped it slightly lower on the stick. He only hoped they needed it. What were the chances this cave ended a few feet down?

He peered past her and into the darkness. Did this tunnel lead anywhere? They had no other choices he could see and the fire was already guttering, so he stomped past her and down into the depths of the mountain.

They were on the fourth strip of material when the tunnel levelled out. The walls were wet to the touch and it was colder here. The sand was gone and the stone was smooth beneath their feet where water had once coursed over it. They had been silent for so long that he noticed the gentle roaring when it was barely audible and seemed to come from the walls around them. It grew in volume and, as he realised what it was, he shared a look with Saffron that wasn’t entirely despairing.

The tunnel ended abruptly and they found themselves on the edge of a river, rushing past down a deep gorge. The light from the torch revealed the water, roiling and black and, on the far side of the river, steep cliffs that climbed into darkness. The roof was too high to see, but the air was thin and cool and he felt certain they were standing in a huge space.

The edge of the river was barely more than a foot wide, but it was enough for them to walk on. A river this large had to empty out somewhere. He kept repeating it to himself as they crawled along the ledge. If it emptied into the sea, they had more than two hundred miles to go and that meant they’d run out of food and light long before they got there. But he wouldn’t think about that, not until he had to.

They had used another three strips of material and his oil was close to running out when Saffron stopped and peered over her shoulder at him.

‘We could follow this all the way to the sea, you know that, don’t you?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t have a better suggestion.’

‘Me neither. What do we do?’

‘Why do you keep asking me that? Why the bloody hell should I know?’

‘Easy now, just thinking aloud.’

He nodded, biting his lip. What do we do? We die. But he wasn’t going to say that. ‘We keep going, for now. We don’t need light so long as the path keeps going like this.’

She nodded and resumed her slow progress. As the light guttered and went out, he stuffed the end of the stick in his belt. When the tip stopped glowing, they were swallowed again by the darkness. He kept going and bumped into her. They both swayed for a moment and he grasped eagerly at the wall until he steadied himself.

‘Sorry, just…’

She fell silent and they listened to the river that sounded louder and far nearer now the light was gone.

‘Okay, I’m going again.’

Tast nodded into the dark and followed, hearing the scrape of her trousers on the stone above the river’s song. He didn’t know how long they journeyed, taking small careful steps, hands gripping the damp stone. But his eyes were aching and itchy when he noticed the change. He could see her, a dull shape emerging from the darkness before him.

It was a shape burnt into his memory, hips and waist that swam through his dreams every time he was lucky enough to avoid nightmares. He looked around and saw the walls and the river below, still surging like flood water down a gulley. She stopped as she realised the same thing.

‘We’re coming out, we’re actually coming out.’

He shook his head, though he knew she couldn’t see it. The light was wrong. It was red, the colour of headaches and fresh blood, and wasn’t coming from any one source. He poked her in the back.

‘Keep going.’

A few minutes later they stopped again and, when she glanced back, he felt certain he wore the same look of amazement he saw on her face. He almost pinched himself as he stared over her shoulder at what lay before them.

The river finally slowed, before dropping away over the edge of a waterfall. The roaring was louder here, but dissipated into the gloom above them. The path upon which they stood turned a sharp right and continued around the edge of a colossal cavern. They crept to the corner and stared out.

The waterfall hammered down into a massive lake that filled two thirds of the cavern. The last third, opposite them, was a flat stone beach that glowed a fierce red. The light was coming from the beach and from the lake where the entire floor was lit up.

He could feel her eyes on him, waiting for the answer. Something had shifted overnight and now she seemed happy to defer to him. What had made the change? Perhaps it was his decision to run, to push her to escape. Whatever caused it, it was infinitely better than the poison she’d been throwing at him since they got to Hallish.

Unfortunately, it also made him fidget and squirm. Why did she have any reason to believe he might actually know what to do? Her kidnapping alone should have dissuaded her from that foolish notion. But still she waited.

At this point, getting across the lake to wherever the water escaped the cave, seemed the most sensible option.

He set off around the edge of the cavern and sighed in relief as he saw their ledge heading downwards. Within a half hour they were almost at the level of the water. They followed the ledge all the way around the cavern until the water receded and they jumped down to the beach. The moment his feet touched the stone he sunk to his knees and stretched out on his back. Saffron paused, grinning, before joining him, close enough to hear her breathing and feel the warmth where her arm touched his.

He swallowed and rubbed his head. He had a headache and his joints were throbbing. It was, in all likelihood, the darkness and the cold. He sat up, marveling at the strange glow that came from the stone beneath him. He rolled onto his front, examining the stuff up close. It was shiny, not like stone at all. On a whim, he pulled his flint from his pocket and struck it. No sparks emerged and he felt it dig into the stone as though it was soft.

He pushed himself up, curiosity momentarily overcoming his exhaustion, and strode over to the wall. He tugged the stick from his belt and tipped the last of his oil onto the end, then held it close as he struck the flint. Eventually a spark caught and normal light filled the chamber. He had just long enough to register that his headache was getting worse before he turned and gasped.

The hall was shining. The stone beneath his feet wasn’t stone at all, but a gem, a massive gemstone of deepest red. He could see down into it and see thousands, millions of facets that gleamed and shone beneath his torch. They threw the torch light back up to fill the cavern and it was as though the sun shone deep inside the earth.

A patch of darkness revealed the entrance to another tunnel on the far side of the beach. The opening was small but something about the blackness within looked familiar. As he drew closer, he whipped the torch behind him. The tunnel spewed oil out onto the stone. It ran into the lake down a narrow trough that must have been worn in the floor over countless years.

He wandered back to Saffron. Her mouth hung open as she stared about her and he drank in the view. It took a moment to register what was wrong, before he looked at her eyes and saw the darkness that surrounded them. His headache was getting worse. He looked again at the floor, at the deep red gemstone, and a terrible, frightening thought struck him. He looked up at Saffron again and blinked. Her skin was pasty and greying, and her eyes were bloodshot.

Lissa

Hallish

Hallish tasted of graves and ash. Most of the army was camped on the plain outside the walls, whilst she and a pair of squads braved the dead city. It felt dead. They had found a couple of walkers upon entering and made short work of them, but there had been nothing since. No sounds, no rats, nothing.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. A