Chapter Seventeen: The Hill of Fire

Chapter Seventeen: The Hill of Fire

There were many legends about how the Assassins power worked.

Some whispered that the Assassin required a persons name and face, then determined the cause of death. A stroke, accident, murder they believed the Assassin could kill anyone, anywhere, with the correct knowledge. Others believed Assassins put a marker on their target, a compulsion that when triggered sent the victim to the afterlife.

From what I could tell, the truth was much simpler.

If the Assassin touched their target, they died. The end.

My magical sight had witnessed it all. Mersies hand brushed against the werewolfs back, and his essenceall of what made the beastman what he wasflickered out like an extinguished candle. It was as if someone had pulled a lever to halt a mills turn. It simply stopped.

I should have known a demon would target the cathedral, Mersie muttered before observing me closer. Are you harmed, Robin?

Nothing more than scratches, but thanks. Unlike Colmar, I still had my head on my shoulders. Your assignment?

Taken care of, Mersie replied. No demons.

Florences plan became clear to me. Since the north watchtower was still releasing its poison, I suspected most of the Knots demons had actually been deployed there. Florence anticipated us sending the Knight to deal with the first active pyre; with our strongest pinned down halfway across the city, she could release the gas in another location with less resistance.

The woman was clever, I had to give her that.

Mersies eyes squinted as she struggled to see through the smoke and noticed Colmars remains. The Alchemist

Should be fine, I replied. I hoped so, at least.

Mersie gave me a strange look. Anybody else would have doubted my words, but she trusted me. Maybe more than I trusted her.

However, the bloodthirsty, furious look she sent Chastel upon noticing himfollowed by one of the creepiest smiles I had ever seenfroze the blood in my veins. She had recognized him even in his demon form. She had probably seen his claws tear apart her family and retainers many years ago.

Rescuing Alaire is our priority, I reminded Mersie. Chastel still held her hostage, her arms twisted and broken. Florence had explicitly ordered her fiendish pet to keep Alaire alive, but as Soraseo said, demons lied.

You take care of her, Mersie replied, her smile unblemished. Ill distract Chastel.

Or kill him, her tone implied.

We charged onward at the same time, perfectly synchronized. We knew each other too well. Still, Florence saw us coming, with flames swirling in her hands in turn.

Strange, Mersie muttered to herself. Its the first time were fighting together.

I would rather dance, I quipped back.

Were still dancing, Robin, Mersie replied, two throwing knives flashing from under her sleeves. The dance of blades.

Florence raised her hands to unleash blasts of fire at us, but Mersie threw her knives first: one at the apothecarys eye, the other at Chastels face. One of the demons hands caught the projectile with lightning-fast reflexes. His mistress, however, did not possess the same agility. Mersies knife hit her masks glass goggle and shattered it. Florence let out a snarl of pain, her previously fiery hands moving to cover her mask.

Astonishingly, Chastels head snapped in his mistress direction with what could pass for concern. That was all Mersie and I needed to strike. My fiery dagger cut through Chastels hands like butter. The monster shed no blood, nor did I feel much resistance. It was as if he had neither flesh nor bones under his skin.

In any case, it forced him to drop Alaire. I grabbed her before she could hit the ground and swiftly retreated a few steps back.

"Alaire?! Alaire, are you well?!" When I received no response and checked her pulse, I realized Alaire had passed out. The pain from having her arms broken, not to mention the smoke and gas, had caused her to faint.

Meanwhile, Mersie engaged Chastel in melee. She dodged a quick strike aimed for her hand, grabbed the demon's arm with both hands

And nothing happened.

Chastel did not drop dead, nor did my magical sight notice any change in his essence. Mersie blinked in bewilderment before jumping back before Chastel could counterattack.

Im afraid I have no soul to take, dear Assassin, Chastel apologized, his tone utterly insincere. As I said: no cheating.

It didnt take me long to figure out how the Assassins power worked. Mersies touch magically severed the bond between an individuals body and their soul. The latter moved on to the Soulforge for reincarnation while the former dropped dead, a husk emptied of all life and essence.

However, becoming a demon involved selling ones soul to the Devil of Greed and letting their evil fill the void. There was no soul to send to the Soulforge since another already laid claim to it.

In a way, the person was already gone. The demon was simply a reanimated corpse, the rotting echo of a departed fool. All the goodif the likes of Sforza and Chastel ever held that in their hearthad left this world, and only their sins lingered behind.

Good, Mersie replied coldly. New knives flashed out of her sleeves, one for each hand. I wanted to take my time with you.

Is that so? Chastel asked mirthfully. I guess that makes two of us then.

He once again turned invisible and vanished from sight.

Mersie didn't appear surprised. She closed her eyes and bent slightly. I watched her roll to the side right before marks of laceration appeared on the spot where she stood.

She has rehearsed this fight for half of her life, I realized while leaving Alaire behind a pile of rubble, away from the flames and fighting. Mersie had seen Chastel in action before and learned her lesson.

Unfortunately, she wasn't facing one opponent. Florence removed the dagger stuck in her mask, her shattered glass goggle revealed red blood dripping on her exposed, hateful eye.

I closed the gap between us before she could assist Chastel, my dagger so hot it hurt to wield it. She dodged a lethal blow, but my blade still carved a line across her chest. I cut through leather before feeling the resistance of metal underneath.

Why would a demon wear armor?

As I dodged a burst of yellow flames, I realized that at no point did Florence transform into a monster. The fact she felt the need to wear equipment to protect herself from her own chemicals in close quarters could only mean one thing.

"You're no demon," I whispered, confirming my earlier suspicions. "You're a werewolf. The kind that can pass for a human."

I heard Florence shrug behind her mask. "Does it matter?"

A great deal, yes. I wonder why a demon would follow a mere mortal.

I heard Chastel laugh behind me. There is nothing mere about Milady.

I turned my head to see empty air behind me. I still stepped to the right on instinct, a reaction that saved my life. Invisible claws lashed at the metal plate covering my chest and penetrated deep enough to reach the clothes underneath.

Dont you see the beauty of her soul? Chastel asked me, his grin briefly becoming visible amidst the smoke. The frightful rage born of sorrow? It fascinates me.

Florence appeared to flinch for a brief instant, before attempting to flank the Assassin with a burst of flames. Mersie acted quicker and threw another knife at her. Florence saw it coming this time and the two ladies swiftly started exchanging projectiles.

I cannot muster the strength to hate anyone Chastel continued to ramble. I kept backing off, sensing his approach but unable to ascertain his position. Come to think of it, I do not care much for anything. But Milady

Keep rambling, I thought while focusing on Chastels voice. It will be the end of you.

I heard a chuckle to my left. She inspires me to do my very best.

I am, Mersie replied while rising back to her feet. How did you how did you do that?

I improvised, I replied before moving to check on Colmar. The apothecarys decapitated remains stood still next to his own severed head. Are you in there?

I am well. Colmars voice came from his severed head, which his body picked up under one arm. The sight sent shivers down my spine. It was as if he had done it before. What about Florence?

It said something about Colmar that appeared more concerned for his enemys health than his own. Nonetheless, I moved to check on Florence anyway. She was still trapped inside her petrified costume, raging against her prison and yet unable to escape it. Blasting her way out meant suffering from a deadly recoil.

Good, shes still alive, I thought. We couldnt interrogate the dead after all.

My, my, a familiar, wheezing voice said, this is quite the pickle

Speaking of the dead, I glanced at Chastels remains, utterly gobsmacked.

The demons severed head lay near his petrified mistress, the left half torched enough to reveal gilded bones under his fur. Chastel was missing everything beneath the jaw, including lungs, and yet I heard him breathe. His vicious little eyes glanced at his own bloody remains with the same eerie nonchalance he had shown us time and time again.

Hes still alive. I could scarcely believe it. The blast had torn him apart, and yet Chastels soulless spirit lingered in this world. But not for long.

If his wounds didnt claim Chastels life soon, Mersie would. She grabbed the demon by the ears with a furious look, a knife in hand.

Even so, Chastel showed no fear in the face of death. He utterly ignored Mersie and instead glared at Colmar, who had switched to extinguishing the fires by turning stones and rubble to ice.

"My, my, and the priests call us abominations," Chastel mused. How he could speak without lungs was beyond me; though I could say the same for Colmar. "The cauldron calling the kettle black I suppose."

Except Colmar worked tirelessly to save lives while Chastel dedicated his existence to taking them. Quite the difference.

Mersie forced Chastel to look at her. Her beauty was twisted in an expression of cold rage. "You don't remember me at all."

I do my hearts best to remember all my victims, but no, I do not remember you, Chastel replied. I am truly sorry.

The creepiest part was that he almost sounded sincere.

Fifteen years ago, you and your acolytes broke into my familys home. Mersie raised her knife up to Chastels remaining eye. There was a blonde girl, five years old. You thought she was me. She applied the blade to the eyelid. So you tore her apart.

She stabbed Chastel in the left eye.

Though I held no love for the fiend, I winced a bit at the sight. Blackened blood poured out of Chastels skull and dripped down his burned cheek. Another man might have tried to stop her, but I had spent years plotting vengeance against Sforza. Some people deserved to die for the good of everyone else.

You tore her apart with your filthy claws, Mersie hissed, her voice dripping with fifteen years worth of venom and hatefulness. A child of five. Sarah. My friend. You murdered her.

Chastel didnt scream as she twisted the blade.

He didnt laugh, or whine, or beg, or react. His remaining eye stared at Mersie while the other bled, unblinking, amused.

Mersies jaw clenched in fury. The demon appeared determined to deny her any catharsis in his final moments.

You murdered her while your acolytes killed my father and mother, she spat at the fiend.

I am sorry, my fair lady, Chastel apologized with all the sweetness of rancid butter. I shouldnt have separated you from your family. If I could, I would send you to join them this very instant.

No, you wont. But before you go to whatever hell your pact with the Devil of Greed condemned you, you will tell where to find your last acolyte. Mersie moved her blade to his other eye. Ive managed to track down everyone present that night over the years. Every last one of you beasts. All except one."

She started tracing a line around the remaining eye with her knife.

"One-eyed, Mersie said, her voice colder than ice. White-haired. Knife thrower."

"Ah, Chronius?" Chastel chuckled, unimpressed by the threats. It does not surprise me. Hes retired, you know? He exchanged his weapons for tools and blood for a farm.

I scoffed. One does not retire from your kind of organization.

They do, if they agree to keep their mouths shut, Chastel replied calmly. Yes, we let the old chap go. But weve kept an eye on him since.

Mersie pushed her knife against Chastels head, emphasizing each word of her question. Where. Is. He?

Youll find him in Wisepeak, my fair lady, if youre so eager to die, Chastel taunted her. Chronius is a better killer than I am. Truly a master of his craft. Hes not the kind of blade that rusts with time.

Wisepeak? I struggled to believe it. Wisepeak was a center of learning in Erebia, infamous for, among other things, hosting the Inquisitions training grounds. I could hardly imagine why a former cultist would start a new life there.

Except, perhaps, to make sure his old associates would think twice about pursuing him, I figured. Interesting I wonder whats the story behind it.

Good. Mersie dropped Chastels head onto the ground. And now you will die.

I sense much anger in your heart, young woman. Chastel chuckled. You would have made a good member of the Knots

Mersie stomped his skull under her foot, shattering it. Red mist consumed Chastels remains, until only a familiar, ghastly coin remained. I seized it and put it in my pocket. Eris would appreciate the gift.

As for Mersie she stared at the horizon with a hollow expression. Only now that Colmar had extinguished the flames did I realize the northern tower was gone. Smoke rose where it once stood. Had Roland cast the whole place down to extinguish its pyre?

Wisepeak, Mersie muttered to herself. Her hand played with her knife; flipping it up and down as if she imagined throwing it on a moments notice. Wisepeak. Hes in Wisepeak.

The mad glint in her eyes worried me. I had seen it before when we last met at my home, when she recounted the slaughter she had witnessed in her childhood. It was the same rage that animated Florence.

Mersie? I asked, my voice hardly carrying over the wind. She turned to face me, smiling sadly. Did it give you satisfaction?

Yes, she answered without hesitation.

She probably meant it, or at least desired for it to be true. I had no room to judge her, but somehow I had the gut feeling her suffering had only begun. It bothered me.

Now was not the time to discuss this, however. We still needed to restrain Florence and treat Alaires wounds. Colmar had moved on to do the latter after affixing his head to his shoulders. When I found him applying bandages to Alaires arms, a thin line surrounded his neck. From what I could gather, he had used his power to glue back his severed mask the best he could.

Colmar looked up when he sensed me approaching. Our eyes met, mine made of living matter and his of glass. I had seen nothing other than dust inside his head. Dust and memories.

Hes old, I thought. For even his bones to have decomposed he has been walking the earth for at least a century.

You knew, Colmar said. It wasnt a question, but a statement. He sounded a little relieved that I hadnt rejected him outright.

I suspected it, I replied calmly. How did it happen?

Though Colmar did not breathe, he made a whizzing sound while tightening Alaires bandages. I told you, Robin, he said grimly. There was once an apothecary who thought he could save everyone from the plague until one day he realized everyone was dead.

Colmar looked at the corpses on the plaza. Most were our enemies, yet they would haunt him all the same.

Even himself, he whispered.