The Light of Heaven by David A McIntee Read Free Book Online

rupture his heart. People had always said that aristocrats and Eminences had blue blood, but it was the red kind that was spilling loose from the man as he crumpled to the ground.
    The assassin's next order of business was simple survival.
    He left the crossbow where it was, and slid out of the shooting cell. He slid down a ladder and exited from the thirty foot high beacon tower that dominated the eastern edge of North Cliff. A staircase wound its way up the outside, to allow a constant stream of wood to be taken up to the beacon itself, but the assassin doubted that even the Order of the Swords of Dawn knew that the interior still retained the ladders and scaffolding of the builders who had constructed it. They hadn't built a secret shooting cell intentionally, of course; it was simply a part of the internal support structure, which the builders once used to store materials during construction.
    The opening he was using as a loophole to shoot out of was originally just mean to let light in so that, by means of mirrors, the builders inside could see what they were doing. Perhaps it had once also been used as a camera obscura, so that people manning the beacon could survey the horizon from inside. This use had been long since forgotten by most people.
    Not looking back, he darted across to the drovers' road and began to walk briskly but calmly. Running would attract attention. By the castle the knights of the Swords were barging around, harried by one of their own Eminences as they set up a perimeter around the victim. The shouts of Ducal soldiers began to be taken up.
    The assassin merely kept walking.
     
    Every Knight of the Swords on the esplanade dashed towards the falling Eminence, Erak running at their head. The Ducal soldiers spread out, shoving the crowd back, while the honour guard ushered the bride and groom, and their families, back into the castle.
    Erak grabbed the green robe of a Healer hesitating near the castle gate, clearly unsure whether to risk entering the killing ground for a patient, and shoved him forward.
    "See to the Eminence!"
    The Swords of Dawn were swarming out of every nook and cranny, but no-one seemed to know what had happened. Questions and counter-questions flew across the esplanade and within the castle courtyard. Erak himself only had one thought: where was the assassin?
     
    The assassin was two streets away, and walking further. It had all gone perfectly, as far as he was concerned. Every man-at-arms he passed was rushing towards the castle, while the bowman, drab in his charcoal-coloured cloak and grey tunic and trews, walked slowly in the opposite direction.
    He kept up this slow pace him though every fibre of his body wanted him to run. This way he looked like an over-fed celebrant who had left before anything untoward happened. Nothing could get in the way of his simple ruse now. Feeling genuinely in need of a touch of the celebration he deserved, he helped himself to a shot from a silver hip-flask. It was the good stuff, brought up and across the Anclas from Pontaine. It burned smoothly on the way down - and exploded more roughly into his front teeth when a fist smashed into them. The fist belonged to an athletic-looking knight from the Order of the Swords of Dawn.
    The knight wore a tunic, gambeson, and trews bound tightly to what looked to be shapely legs. Greaves were strapped to the shins, and bracers to the forearms. Iron caressed the shoulders and torso, under a surplice bearing the crossed circle of the Final Faith. Staring out from under the helmet were a strange and arresting pair of eyes. One was clear sapphire blue, the other a striking almond flecked with gold.
    The assassin froze for a moment, startled out of his confident walk.
    "What the -"
    Instinctively, he pushed past her and started to run. How could they have found him?
     
    Gabriella DeZantez started to run, bolting after the fleeing man. Why was he reacting so strongly when he had only been breaking a local