1.4
“The first to witness the power of Dynastend was Starking’s Red Empire.”
– ‘Histories of the Galaxy: Volume I’
The Burning City (Kire)
The Burning City was silent in the dead of night. A frigid wind raced between the compact alleyways of the Red Planet’s capital, a stark contrast to the daytime inferno. Day or night, Kire was not a place for the weak.
Mixde’s breath clouded in front of him. It was freezing atop the city’s rooftops, but the Kirian had long since conquered the chill. His body was encased in the standard, fitted black temperate suit required by any who dared the outdoors. The only notable difference was the heavy wrist guard on his right forearm.
Growing impatient, Mixde tapped the devise on the underside of his wrist and watched as a dull green light filled three out of five bars. The signal was a few moments late, but the Kirian did not let himself worry. Yet. He touched the tip of the metal staff that was tied across his back, unconsciously rolling one of its deadly rounds in his gloved hand.
In the light of the windows below, Mixde could just make out the spot on the street where the woman would pass. As soon as the woman stepped into the open, the operation would be underway.
Mixde had never learned her name. Nor did he want to; his employer seemed to have a peculiar sensitivity to providing more knowledge then was necessary. The Kirian did not mind the secrecy – as long as his admintive was delivered on time.
He tapped the underside of his wrist again just as the woman veered briefly out from beneath the building’s awning. Two and three-quarter bars, Mixde thought with a tick of frustration. He was used to having nearly four by the time the woman appeared.
What had kept her?
Mixde leapt from his perch, landing at a full sprint on the flat roof of the bordering structure. He relished the enhanced stability provided by the drug rushing through his veins. One false step crossing the rooftops of the Burning City and he would break his bones against the frozen streets below. All the admintive in the system could not mend shattered bones.
A moment later, the Kirian stopped midstride, shielding himself behind a row of solar panels. The guard was twenty paces away, but Mixde’s enhanced hearing made each step sound as if the man walked beside him.
The metal staff found Mixde’s hands as he stalked his prey. He had been warned that the High Lord was protected at all times, but it was rare to see another soul atop the city. An important man indeed, the Kirian thought as he waited for the guard to take another step. Perhaps I should ask for a raise.
Just as a black boot touched the ground, Mixde’s staff connected with the back of its owner’s head. The man fell without a sound.
Mixde felt for a pulse and confirmed the guard was still alive. His orders were for none other than his target to perish, and orders had to be followed. Otherwise, the next contract could be passed onto another.
The admintive as well.
Carefully, Mixde pulled the wire rope from within the hollow staff, mounting the weapon as an anchor to the edge of the roof. A heartbeat later, he was over the side, slowly propelling himself downward against the thick, tinted windows of the building.
Upon reaching his planned entryway, the Kirian resituated his body so that he hung upside down, his dark boots gripping on the glass. With a tap to the topside of his right wrist, a portion of the devise expanded and came to an orange life. Turning his hand over, Mixde counted two and quarter remaining green bars.
Hurriedly, the Kirian flattened his hand against the window and allowed the s’ore to burn a small hole in the glass. Once it had finished, Mixde dove inside, the wire quietly snapping back into its hidden place within the metal staff.
In a few short steps, he stood at the edge of a narrow hallway painted a dark shade of blue. A white dragon was etched into the ornate doorway that rested at its end.
Salmonous, Mixde breathed in surprise.
He had not known his true target until that moment. Ever fearful of assassination, the High Lords of Kire kept numerous strongholds within the towering buildings of the Burning City. Be it by the plots of other High Lords, the Miner’s Guild – or stars knew who else – it was not uncommon for High Lords to end up with a knife in their back.
Cautiously, Mixde made his way to the end of the corridor. As always, his intel had been impeccable; it was as if his contactor had walked within the very walls before him. The window had ferried him past the bulk of the High Lord’s protective detail. Still, he would normally have expected a guard at the door…
A crack of red light snaked through the double doors as they began to inch apart. A normal man would have undoubtedly been too slow to react, however, the admintive allowed Mixde all the time he needed.
Within a split second of the door opening he was at the threshold – silver staff a blistering whirlwind as it took the man first in the chest then in the face.
Damn, that was close, Mixde cursed as he pulled the man over the threshold and entered the red-lit room. He found his heart throbbing in his chest and allowed himself a moment to slow it. The remaining admintive had to be conserved as much as possible.
Crouching next to the unconscious body, Mixde surveyed the empty room. The strange light came from a series of red tinted lamps surrounding a bubbling pool of water in the middle of the large chamber. Twisting winged serpents were woven into the tub’s side as well as throughout the plush carpet that covered the floor.
The Kirian spent a moment examining the three doors at the other end of the quiet room. His target was in what his contractor had called the blue room. But which one was that? He would have to check each door to find out. Worriedly, he examined the underside of his wrist guard again. One and half green bars.
There wasn’t time for options. Burn that woman. Why had she been so late?
Silently, Mixde sized up the red room again. This time it came to him. Both the tub and the carpet-based dragons were directly in line with the middle of the three doors. Surely, that would signify where the High Lord made his bedchamber.
The poisoned silver ball made its way into his hand again as the Kirian dashed across the soft carpet and placed his ear to the door. There was an unmistakable moaning within, a voice he would have known anywhere. For all the speeches he had heard Salmonous make, he would have never have guessed the first time he heard the man in person would be in bed.
Of course, that meant additional complications.
Someone was in there with him. At least, Mixde hoped it was only one someone. Rumors of the High Lords’ unquenchable lust were hotter than the sun.
Mixde held his ear at the door for another moment. Even with his enhanced hearing, it was impossible to tell how many people were within.
He toyed with another of the silver balls. It would have been much easier if he could have just killed them all. The rules of his employer may have been infuriatingly restrictive, but pure admintive was nearly impossible to get on Kire. He could not – would not – kill anyone else inside the blue room.
Again, he checked his wrist. One bar.
With a complimentary glance to the stars above, Mixde rolled into the room. The silver round flew from the metal staff the instant he regained balance. Before the man could even turn his head, it took him in the throat. Before the woman beneath him could scream, he held a hand over her mouth.
Her eyes widened as they examined him. Blue eyes. That meant she wasn’t native to Kire. Mixde again entertained the idea of killing her. Without thinking, his free hand fetched another silver ball from the container attached to his waist.
Unexpectantly, the woman forced his hand away.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered sternly. Her blue eyes burned harshly in the room’s strange light. “Kill me and my name is what the shadows will whisper into your ears upon your death hours from now.”
Mixde drew back in surprise. “The source was you.”
The admintive not only heightened senses but thought patterns as well. He could connect logical dots faster than a man could blink. From the woman’s tone it was all too apparent how he had found his way into this very room.
The woman sat up, her thick blonde hair falling past her bare shoulders. She took a disgusted glance at the dead man atop her and pushed him to the side. She didn’t bother to cover herself to Mixde’s gray eyes. The Kirian knew the tactic for what it was – the woman wanted to keep him off balance.
“You should go,” she nodded towards the window set in the far wall. “It is bad enough that I spoke to you at all.”
“What do you mean?” Mixde asked. The warning clock within his head began to tick loudly. High Lords always had more than one set of eyes on them. It was only a matter of time until someone found the man by the door or the one on the roof.
The woman smiled mysteriously. “We both have jobs to do, Mixde. Now you must go.”
The Kirian froze. The clock grew louder.
“I’m envious that one can be so in the dark,” the woman mused. “They must really have your leash bound tightly if you can’t see it. Although … I suppose it was them who found you originally. There are not many users left these days.”
Mixde met the woman’s eyes again. How did she know so much? Who was she?
“Why are you here?” he asked instead. Social interaction had never been his forte.
“The same reason as you, my dear – to slay the white dragon,” she whispered calmly into his ear. “Now you must go.”
The clock’s alarm began to chime within his head, a final warning. “What is your name?”
The woman shook her head and tapped the underside of the wrist guard. “Only a half bar, Mixde. Tick tock.” Without warning, she emitted a deafening scream. “Help! Assassin! Please help! Assassin!”
Mixde growled in frustration as he raced to the window.
There was no longer time for deliberation. Without hesitation, he guided the metal staff through the thick glass and leapt into the frozen night air. He took a deep breath as he fell, thoughts swirling storming within his mind. Sensing the approach of the neighboring roof, he skillfully rolled through the fall and disappeared into the moonless night.
Behind him, he could hear the shrill sound of the High Lord’s alarm system. A look back through the broken window revealed three new shapes.
It was unlikely that they would give pursuit now, but Mixde continued to wind through the maze of rooftops with breathless speed. He knew he wouldn’t make it to safety before the admintive ran out, but he was determined to make it as far as he could.
Realization hit as he caught his breath atop a structure three streets away.
“That’s why she was late,” he thought aloud. “They didn’t want us to talk.”
But who were they? His employer was never the same man or woman twice. The locations where they met were chosen at random. Instructions were printed in a plain font on plainer white paper.
I suppose it was them who found you originally…
That was his only clue. The women who had found him and his sister in the streets had worked for the church. It was there they had first exposed him to admintive. It was there where he last saw his sister.
Mixde’s heart skipped a beat as withdraw set in.
Quietly, he leaned against the side of the roof and groaned as the customary splitting headache greeted him. In truth, it was not actually a headache but the mental pressures of his body readapting to normal existence. It always faded after a moment.
After it had passed, he sat alone listening to the sounds of the night. He thought of the admintive he had been storing at his home in case of emergency and of the church where he had first encountered it. The church had filled his life with the purpose that had always been missing, but he had never returned after his sister’s disappearance.
Perhaps it was time.