Chapter 15: Through the Neck to the Head

  Gone. Beetle relaxed her fingers. Whatever shadow she saw was gone. A gloved hand grabbed her arm and the warrior spun. Chiara was there, eyes questioning Beetle. Returning the look with a sarcastic grin, Beetle pointed a finger.

  “Rooftop ambushers again, Chiara? I’m not Gallo, I won’t fall for it that easily.”

  Crocodile, who had been watching the exchange, looked up at the roofs. “Seriously?”

  A genuine look of confusion twisted Chiara’s brow. “What?” She shook her head. “Come on, we have a meeting to attend, preferably before the fires flicker out.”

  Beetle and Crocodile looked down the cobble road to the blazing orange that sat between the upper city and the duchess’ hill estate. It was so bright, that it looked like they were walking towards the day itself. “I don’t think we have much to worry about there,” Beetle muttered.

  The group fell into silence and with no more shadow sightings, the rest of the walk was quick. Eventually the cobble of the roads gave way to cheap flagstone cut from the island’s cliffs and that too eventually led to an ancient meeting place nestled between two tiny hills and dominated by short grass. It was clear this area was man-made so that people could stand on the hills and look down at whatever orator was speaking in the center, except what was actually there had Beetle’s eyes wide and her heart in her throat. Before she could speak, she realized that Maelys’ masked knights were on her flanks with Chiara grinning at her side. Altogether they looked down into the open space.

  A circle of masked knights held torches and laced between them were pale faced cityfolk from the highest walks of life. Nobles, merchants and any other important soul was being held back by the knights while at the center stage was Maelys with a wicked grin. She was dressed in a silver gown, and despite the violent scene next to her, she looked serene and wickedly happy. Behind her were gallows and on the end of every rope, whimpering and waiting for the inevitable, were the oligarchs of Perdi, Jacob included.

  Beetle whipped around to glare at Chiara. “What is this?”

  “You didn’t want to play the game,” the noble woman answered, “so our duchess figured she couldn’t rely on you any longer to reach her goal. In her words, it was either the sneaky way or the bloody way.”

  “Salutations!” Maelys called over the murmuring crowd. Her gaze shot over the torches and pierced Beetle. “I see you finally arrived at the party!” The torches of the knights forced the darkness to the periphery and masked the night, creating a dome of sorts and as a result, an uncomfortable intimacy. Beetle tried to peer behind the duchess in the distance, but it was true, the light had stolen her night vision and all she could see was the evil grin of Maelys.

  “What are you doing, Maelys?” Beetle called out, the two ex-partners yelling over the crowd. Crocodile stepped forward.

  “Let the boy go!” His eyes were on Jacob. The newly appointed oligarch was bloody, with his eyes pounded shut with bruises and welts, to say nothing of the sorry state of the others on the gallows. Each uneasy breath saw the oligarchs wobbling on the thin wooden bench that they stood on. One kick, purposeful or accidental, was all it would take to snuff out the oligarchs of Perdi, leaving but one authority.

  “I figured,” Maelys called out with a joyful trill, “that there was more than one way to become a queen.” A laugh. “Duchess is nice, but a queen wouldn’t need a bunch of out-of-date slobs holding council and consents. I dare say I’m not one for petty politics.” She turned and without ceremony, kicked the bench.

  Rope strained and the bodies dropped. Only one or two oligarch’s had a clear snap of the neck, while the others were left dancing on the end of their noose, Jacob included. His face was purple as he kicked. Beetle lunged forward, but Chiara stepped in, knife in hand. Before the blade could sink into the warrior, Crocodile tackled the noblewoman, taking the blade to the arm. Maelys’ laughter dwarfed any screams of terror and the masked knights closed in.

  The barrier of darkness that ringed the scene was suddenly broken and a blurry figure dashed in. A sword flashed from the cloaked assassin and as the blade arced, the steel sang. Beetle’s ears perked in recognition. Shouts broke from the knights but the assassin was already upon them.

  Blood sprayed. Spears and swords of defiance were swung at the assassin, but he ducked under with a grunt, hamstringing his opponents. He threw out his arm and a spray of needles plunged into reinforcements. With a punch of his hand, his yexara sword gurgled throats and stabbed through backs and rib. Maelys was screaming now and just as the knights turned from Beetle and Crocodile, the warrior snapped back to reality.

  Crocodile booted Chiara off of him with a steady kick before turning to Beetle. “Run!” Was all Crocodile said, and with only swinging shadows waiting at the bottom of the hill, the two broke into the darkness.

  “What the fuck is going on!?” Crocodile swore as the pair’s boots met cobblestone streets. Night air was harsh in their lungs as they sprinted.

  “No idea,” Beetle puffed, ripping her knife free as she ran. “We have to get to the lower city by the docks. This coup won’t end here.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Before Crocodile could reply, a throwing knife zipped by both their heads. The Verdokian spun around just as Chiara closed in.

  “Crocodile!” Beetle turned.

  “Keep going!” He yelled back, ripping his blade free from its sheath. “The others need to be warned.”

  Beetle wanted to argue, but her instincts knew better, and after a silent prayer to anyone and anything, she ran further into the darkness.

  ***

  Crocodile held his blade towards Chiara. He could hear Beetle’s fading steps as well as the shouting of knights in the distance. Narrowing his eyes, Crocodile chuckled. “I sort of wish you were that frogman, I have been itching for a rematch.”

  “Gaju?” Chiara’s frown was ever present, but before she could ponder further, Crocodile kicked into a charge. The behemoth Verdokian barreled forward, and despite his cocky attitude, he felt every inch of calculation in his mind. Crocodile wasn’t a fool, he knew how dangerous Chiara was. AS if reading his mind, the noblewoman danced out of his way, only to pounce at his flank, a knife in each hand.

  The gladiator quickly threw his blade in the way, but just as one of her knives sparked off of the metal of his sword, the other slipped by and dragged a sharp point along his already bleeding arm, opening the wound from earlier even wider. Pain snapped up Crocodile’s arm and if he bled as fast as a monkey, he wasn’t sure this fight would have a happy ending.

  He clenched his teeth and twisted his stabbed arm, grabbing Chiara’s wrist as if to keep the blade in his flesh. She twisted the knife and tears welled in the Verdokian’s eyes, but he kept his hold on her. His free hand brought up his sword, but before he could swipe his prey, Chiara twisted, shoulder popping and with a strange movement, she wiggled free, leaving her knife behind. The acrobat leapt backwards and with a snap of bone, her arm was functioning again.

  The fuck? Crocodile sprung forward, this time swinging early. Chiara dodged to the left, but Crocodile was expecting it, and sent a slice of his blade her way. Metal shrieked and Chiara redirected the blow at the last second with her dagger. She spun to his side and tossed a blade from under her coat. The knife whizzed by Crocodile, but in the short moment he was distracted, Chiara closed in. The gladiator stepped back, just dodging a swipe of her knife. His fist shot out, slamming into her gut.

  With a loud gasp, Chiara reset the fight, putting distance between her and the gladiator. Pain was evident on her face, but Crocodile knew it was clear on his own. A slight woozy feeling was ticking at the back of his head and he could see the rivulets of blood trailing down his stabbed arm and dripping from his fingers. He had to end this fight before it caught up to him.

  “You never fought a Verdokian before, right?” Crocodile idled.

  Chiara just offered him a curious look before diving back in. That answered the question for him. A new plan emerged in his head and as Chiara came into range, Crocodile stabbed forward. Chiara dodged, but kept her momentum forward. She went to strike, but Crocodile side stepped, giving Chiara his flank. Her eyes were greedy, and she capitalized, all in a split second. There was no way for Crocodile to get his sword around in time before she could slice his neck from the side or stab his lung through the ribs, and yet as she closed in, Crocodile’s eye glinted with a red, reptilian bloodlust.

  A loud shriek burst from Chiara’s lips as the sound of bone cracking echoed. Crocodile’s tail had crashed right into her at full strength. The meaty appendage slammed her right into the ground. Crocodile didn’t turn to look at her as she laid flat on her back, breath ragged.

  “Oof,” the gladiator taunted. “Sounds like a few ribs turned to dust there. I bet it burns to breathe.”

  Chiara couldn’t form words through the huffing and puffing. Her fingers tightened on her knife, as if summoning what remained of her strength, but before she could do anything else, the moon cast a shadow of Crocodile’s tail and with a whipping motion, he snapped his tail down against her face. The puffing stopped, the fingers froze in a death grip, and Crocodile felt a squirm in his chest.

  “Right,” he said to the corpse. “What’s done is done.” Crocodile shook his head, only to startle at a new sight. Two masked knights had wandered over from the massacre in the distance. Their hands were tight on their spears and were shaking with either fear or anger. Crocodile ground his teeth in anxiety, his head was fuzzy for this.

  A shadow flashed behind the knights, steel sang an eerie song, and in one fluid motion, both of the knight's heads flew off their shoulders with a gush of blood. The cloaked assassin stood behind the victims as they crumpled to the ground, his sword still humming gently.

  Crocodile took a step back, his own blade in guard. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Silence. Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, heart pounding from his throat to his leaking arm. “A black scorpion assassin?”

  The assassin said nothing but with a flourish, they spun their long, curved yexara blade free of gore and slammed it back into its scabbard. The humming stopped.

  “The Thricefold Slayer,” Crocodile was stepping backwards, he didn’t want anything to do with this, not in his current condition. Not that he was afraid, or at least he told himself. “You are him, I’m sure of it.”

  With a crack of a moment, the Slayer dashed forward. Crocodile slammed a foot back to brace himself and cut with his sword. His blade sliced the air, and as realization dawned, the Slayer had vanished back into the night. Crocodile stood there, sword out, but alive and untouched save for his arm.

  “The Monkey isn’t going to believe this one,” Crocodile gulped, heart still racing.