Assassin of the Damned (Dark Gods) by Vaughn Heppner Page B

Moon Lady slowly turned as if to face me. There was something ominous in that.
    I noticed a dais before the mural and a pad or cushion, one often used in the custom of fealty. One knelt to a stronger in fealty, put his hands in the stronger person’s hands and pledged service. The stronger one pledged to protect the weaker, the server. The cushion on the dais was the type used for an older man’s knees, to soften the act of kneeling. I had the feeling I was supposed to kneel on the pad and pledge away my soul. The fact they desired this pledge made me believe I still had my soul. That proved I was alive in some fashion.
    I entered the room. In the portrait of the Moon Lady, in the mural, was a slit window behind her. She was in a castle, I supposed. It was night in the mural. Several stars showed in the window, and then a large blue moon. I did not understand a blue moon’s significance. I suppose only an artistic genius like Giotto would have understood.
    Beyond the kneeling pad was an ornate stand. Upon it lay a black belt and a sheathed dagger.
    They had taken my good if rusty sword. I strode within and stopped, surprised. Torches burned in alcoves. In them were statues of the Moon Lady. No, those were idols. Many were salacious.
    I strode onto the dais and kicked the kneeling pad, sent it shooting across the room. I grabbed the belt and buckled it to my waist. I drew the blade. It was black and oily, an assassin’s knife, but it would have to do.
    I heard footsteps from the corridor. I leaped from the dais and ran to an alcove. There was an archway in the rear.
    “Come back, my Darkling.”
    I whipped around. The voice was sensuous and seductive. The portrait of the Moon Lady still turned. Her lips moved in slow motion. With her voice came a terrifying sense of presence, as if lightning had life and bolted the earth like a goddess taking steps.
    I fled.
    “Darkling…”
    I clamped my hands over my ears. The voice was too beautiful. I took corridors, leaped down flights of stairs. Yes, I wanted my memories, but I wanted to keep my soul more.
    I ran down a steep wooden ramp that kept curving. I wondered if it was for wine merchants or for peasants trundling vegetables up to the kitchen. Then I realized that no peasant or merchant would come here. The ramp led into the earth, into a dimly glowing cavern. I paused. No one thudded down the ramp after me, at least not yet. The cavern’s ceiling was higher than I could reach. The rocky sides glittered with mica. I scowled and peered into the hateful depths. Then I gripped my resolve and hurried into them. It was then I noticed that my boots were noiseless as a cat’s paws. Although they were made of leather, they never creaked as regular knight’s boots did.
    I passed smaller cave openings, but the thought of negotiating them made my skin crawl. My tunnel cooled, and I noticed wet patches on the ceiling. I was deep underground and slowed because of it. The passage ahead curved sharply.
    Then something ahead roared. I would have sworn its echo made the mica glitter. The hidden beast snorted and licked its chops. I thought of an elephant-sized lion and took a step back. Massive chains clinked, and leathery sliding sounds made my imagination cringe. I backed up. I hoped the chains meant it was leashed. It snuffed wetly. Had it heard me, smelled me? I wanted to turn and run, but forced myself to move quietly in my cat-silent boots. The chains clinked again, but it was a softer sound. I think the beast lay down.
    I soon reached a small side tunnel. I tested its air, and with a slow step, began to explore. The grade rose. With luck, I might reach an exit in the hill. But as the grade continued to rise and curve, I feared it returned to the castle. Before long, the cave walls merged into brick. My muscles loosened with relief. I was out of the Earth, although I’d surely reentered the castle.
    Soon I spied flickering shadows and light. I moved softly like an assassin, peered