FOREVER KNIGHTS: #7 King of Assassins
Raese Is Gone

“No?” Radix looked over his shoulder. Scraggly strands of his beard protruding as he twisted. “You don’t wish to think on it?” Radix walked to the stone table and absentmindedly stroked one of the stone figurines with a thumb. “Was it something you ever thought you could do?” Radix asked whimsically.

When he turned, Chavias knew he expected an answer.

“No.” His chest tightened.

I don’t want to discuss this. Which is precisely why we are.

“Yet you’ve somehow managed to evade killing those closest to you…”

Does he know? Chavias was silent. Restraining the urge to shift in discomfort.

Radix walked to the table where he clicked the quill in the inkwell on the desk. Looking at Chavias, a bristly gray brow shooting up. “Oh, did you think I hadn’t known?”

He’s going to order me to kill one of them. Chavias stiffened but the demon’s gaze moved to his throat. Working mightily, as Chavias tried not to wretch at what he was certain was coming.

Which one? Which one is it? He knew the probability was that it was Acharius since Radix had threatened incessantly about it but hadn’t yet given the order.

He’s been busy pursuing the winter dread.

“You will kill the one called Sevence. The one you have been avoiding, you avoid no longer.”

Acharius. His gut dropped. Though he’d suspected it was what Radix would say. It was sickening to hear, nonetheless.

“No!” Chavias spat.

“Defy me?” Radix turned sideways and eyed Chavias in his peripheral. A portent of what was to come. “Defy me, Chavias and I will take my battle to their front door tomorrow. I’d overcome them as easily as I have before. Have you forgotten that Great Battle that landed you my slave?”

“That was long ago.”

“Not so long ago.” Radix hissed.

“Why are you so insistent on running us to the ground?” Chavias demanded. Hands fisting at his sides.

“I should think by now it would be quite obvious.” Amusement tinged the demon’s voice. “Your Forever Knights are the only ones in Ardae or the land above that rival my power.” He inhaled a long breath before moving a chess piece on the board near the edge of the desk. “That is why I have spent centuries knocking them from the sky.” Smiling at the results on the board he added. “Oh, have you heard any word of the wizard yet?”

“Raese is long gone, as you know well.” Chavias’ teeth grated. “If you didn’t kill him...”

“Oh, I did not.” He rounded the desk. “Besides, why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” Radix strode confidently toward him until he was close enough Chavias knew he could get his meaty hands around the man’s withered birdlike neck.

But he’s stronger than he looks. A niggling little voice reminded him. It would not have been the first time Chavias had tried to kill his captor.

“It was far easier than I expected to make you my slave.”

Rage coursed through Chavias in hot waves which renewed his strength and drove blinding pain from his head. His only thought was in tearing the demon apart, limb from limb.

Chavias remembered well the day the Cimmerii had taken him. Dragging him far into this hellish pit and slowly eating away at him. Piece by piece until he was too weak to fight them anymore, expecting to die.

Instead he fed me to them for days. Now it was a dark nightmare, but the pain still haunted him as though it were yesterday. Pain he instinctively feared experiencing again.

Okine entered the cave and Chavias had to repress a snarl. The hunched over man with hollow eyes carried a pail sloshing over. Snickering at Chavias he set it on the low corner table.

Okine threw some twigs into the fire pit and lit it. Radix walked to the corner table and Chavias was sickened as he watched Radix pour the pail into a goblet and drag a wood chair next to the flame.

“It keeps it from congealing.” He commented. Chavias’ lip curled in abhorrence.

That’s my blood. Okine drains me into that wretched pail. It was why Chavias assured he only thought of basic things when tortured.

Radix took the first sip and sighed. “Ah there is that castle again. You think of it often. For it to be a secret you guide so zealously you reach for its comfort incessantly. Like a child for the hand of an adult.” He took another heavy dram. “It is a pretty thing is it not? The details are so fine tonight. Chavias.” He chastised. “Usually you are meticulous in your care. Tonight, you are careless.” Then his lips curved in glee. “I wonder what else there is?”

“You already know about the creation of the castle of water.”

“Yes.”

Just not where.