The ranger let himself relax a little, happy to know that Avandriell would not suffer the inevitable injuries coming his way. “You still carry the shame,” Asher observed, having detected it in his voice.
Gideon tilted his head, mulling over the comment. “Some of it belongs to Ilargo, though I do feel the weight of my guilt. I kept it a secret from them all. None of them were whole. They still aren’t.”
Asher, who had long seen the world in a simpler way to most, had a different outlook on the whole affair. “You have read a lot about the Dragon Riders. How many of them turned from their order and caused chaos in Erador?”
Gideon looked away for a moment. “There were several accounts of rogue Riders, scattered throughout their history. Some brought down entire cities.”
“And how many Dragorn did the same?” Asher posed.
The answer came to the old master much quicker. “None,” he replied.
“Unnatural or not,” the ranger concluded, “a degree of influence over the Rider has proven a good way to protect the realm. Ilargo was only doing as he was taught and you were only doing what you thought was right. That’s all there is to it. Those in Dragons’ Reach are happy and safe. That’s more than the rest of us can say.”
Gideon took a long breath and patted Asher on the shoulder. “Perhaps some of that wisdom is already taking hold,” he suggested.
Asher shrugged. “I’ve always been wise.”
Gideon laughed. “And humble too I believe.”
“Of course,” the ranger jested. “In Nightfall, humility was taught right after the art of decapitation.”
Both men shared a laugh in the cold air of the north before Gideon turned to Asher. “That second one was a real lesson, wasn’t it?”
The ranger imitated a sword in his hands. “It’s all in the swing.”
It felt good to laugh again and even better to see the elation mirrored in Avandriell, who flapped her wings and squawked with delight. Then she dashed off down the ramparts, forcing Asher and Gideon to follow her. The soldiers she passed were instantly dumbstruck by the mere sight of her and left gawping.
All but one.
Caught up himself, it took Asher an extra moment to notice the only Namdhorian guard who remained rooted to the spot. He was less animated than the others, who all pointed and gazed at Avandriell as she bounded down the nearest steps. Instead, his eyes shifted back and forth between the baby dragon and the ranger with a calculating expression.
Then the rest of the picture fell into place for Asher. The guard’s uniform wasn’t quite right for his size - too baggy. His helmet didn’t sit properly on his head, sloping slightly to one side. The travelling boots were definitely his, but they weren’t the standard issue worn by the others. Then there was the dark patch staining the black material on the end of his left sleeve. Blood.
Asher’s heart thundered in his chest as the obvious answer struck him with dread: Arakesh.
The assassin’s appearance was either a testament to his inexperience or the speed with which he had infiltrated the keep. The ranger was hoping for the former as he lunged for the killer.
The Arakesh knew his cover had been blown a second before Asher leapt at him, giving him just enough time to push one of the real guards into his path. The collision broke Avandriell’s charm and riled the Namdhorians up, unaware of what was really going on around them. The ranger, however, had no time to explain, leaving him with no other choice but to push them aside and pursue his foe.
“Asher!” Gideon called.
“Stay with her!” he shouted, pointing down to Avandriell.
Leaving them behind, the ranger chased the Arakesh round onto the southern ramparts and over the platform that topped the main gates to the courtyard. Asher tried not to think about the fact that Avandriell was making her way down to the crowds that inhabited the large courtyard, confident that Gideon could take care of her.
Instead, he focused on tracking his enemy down. The Arakesh was younger than him, evidenced by his precise and swift movements. Youth, fortunately, was often trumped by experience. Asher looked ahead, calculating like an assassin. Thinking like the young man was all too easy and he saw the obvious path.
Past the walls, the nearest building was beyond any human’s ability to jump, but the scaffolding erected after the recent battle closed that gap just enough to make it possible. The climb down from the scaffolding, after the jump, would be slow and, in there, lay the opportunity.
Asher ceased his pursuit and descended the closest set of steps, leaping the bottom half into the bustling courtyard. With powerful strides he was outside the keep and on the main road in a few seconds, just in time to see the Arakesh leap from the ramparts as predicted. He managed to get a hold on the second platform down from the top, his chest impacting the wood with some force.
The Ranger raised his hand to draw the silvyr short-sword from his back. All he had to do now was wait for the fool to climb down, by which point he would be at the base of the scaffold, waiting. Asher’s hand hovered over the hilt, failing to grasp it.
The assassin was climbing up.
Asher swore and broke into a sprint. By the time he was ascending the lowest rungs of the side ladder, the Arakesh was disappearing over the roof. He climbed up as fast as his limbs would take him, aware that any student of Nightfall possessed the training to vanish, once out of sight. It was in this regard that the young assassin displayed his inexperience further for, as Asher reached the top, he spotted him fleeing over the roof tops when
