Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 14

its rotting infrastructure prove enormously costly to
the court, but it would also deprive the land of a substantial source of coin. It proved a tricky balancing act
to manage such undesirable operations without letting
the chaos it invited destroy the kingdom from within.
Asmoran had tipped his personal balance away from
the king’s favour with openly treasonous talk during
several social engagements over the past year. Apparently, his position of power had emboldened him in
voicing his true opinions of his liege; rumours spoke
of his trying to recruit other nobles to rebellion, with
the intent to turn Belladain into its own city-state.
Khellus had come to restore the balance and remind
the other nobles that while they operated with a certain amount of leeway, limits still existed.
To enforce such limits, though, he needed to figure out
how best to penetrate the estate and leave Asmoran a
corpse in his wake. The guard patrols had at least two
levels of redundancy, so attempting to enter through
brute force would be foolish. The walls had been
topped with rows of spikes and shattered glass, making climbing a hazardous option. Perhaps he needed
to sniff around the sewers to see if any underground
channels offered themselves. An unsavoury route, but
he’d managed worse before.

but the assassin knew the indifference to be a farce.
He wouldn’t have sauntered down this street except
to make a show of it for the sake of his fellow killer.
Groxley liked to be seen. He loved to flaunt his work,
even while leaving no evidence or witnesses in the
aftermath.
Khellus rose and followed ten paces back. Groxley
carried no weapons, even to Khellus’s trained eye, but
he knew from experience how deadly the man’s bare
hands could be. Groxley stopped and leaned against a
hitching post outside a tavern, still noshing his snack.
He peered up at Asmoran’s estate as well, gawking
and grinning like a country yokel stupefied by city life
and architecture.
As Khellus came up beside him, Groxley spoke without turning. “’ello, Khellus. Impressive, ain’t it? Livin’
in a palace like that might make a man feel right near
invincible.” He looked over and grinned, flashing a
gap where an incisor was missing. Khellus remembered knocking the tooth loose during their last meeting. “Good thing we’s here to put him in his place,
no?”
Khellus joined him in inspecting the walls again. “So,
who was foolish enough to hire your witless hide?”

Street traffic wound past him as he pondered the
alternatives. Few took note of the man lounging in the
shade, one more commoner amidst the daily hubbub.
However, he took note of them, seeing who came and
went from the estate. His surveillance allowed him to
spot one man in particular sauntering down the road.

Groxley’s grin broadened. “My client prefers to go
nameless. Let’s just say I’m bein’ funded by a father
whose lost a coupl’a kids to Asmoran’s drug pits.
Poor wastrels just couldn’t keep away, and now they
be feedin’ flowers. Daddy don’t like that, and wants
someone to pay.”

With overly long arms and legs, the man stuck up a
head taller than most others. He had short-cropped
black hair, with several thin white scars marring his
otherwise fair features. A loose yellow tunic made his
gut and arms appear baggy, concealing what Khellus
knew to be a torso and arms corded with muscle. He
munched on a green-and-white vapefruit, making one
of his cheeks bulge as he chewed.

“You’re here to make Asmoran a spectacle.”

Groxley.
The thug passed Khellus without so much as a glance,

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“And what’s wrong with that?”
“It’s messy. Sloppy. A pointless waste of effort.”
Groxley spat out a vapefruit seed. “It’s fun. Besides,
what’s it matter? Either way, he’s a deader.” He
bumped Khellus’s shoulder with his own. “We’re both
here for the same job. Why not let me get the grunt
work and you get the glory?”