The Witch's Assassin, Prologue

PROLOGUE

It was truly amazing what sunshine managed to seep through the snow-encrusted tangles of the tall beeches, filling the Pallum Forest with what little brightness it had to offer. The thickness of the forest was so that darkness fell at least an hour or two before sundown even in the climax of summer. Even at midday, travelers who were taking one of the King’s Roads or wandering through the woods could only expect a bright mellow. Oftentimes, they would have to turn on their lights or road lamps would have to be lit long before the sun set and they would not turn off again at least until mid-morning.

Given this fact, it has led several locals and other peoples of the Far North to call it the “Forest of Perpetual Dusk.” It also forced Cassa to set aside any of her marvels of the forest’s beauty. For all of the forest’s beauty, it also harbored many dangers and she was on high alert. She crouched in one of the slippery beeches with her eyes glued a clearing ahead.

Four black tents were situated in a lousy circle around a fire ring and she suspected that they were from the city. A sturdy-looking steam car was parked not far from the campsite. Yes, these were definitely city-dwellers. Perhaps it was a family out for a late summer getaway in the Far North. At least they were smart enough not to stray far from one of the King’s Roads. Driving any vehicle through a forest was prohibited unless travelers stay on the Roads. Some forests, like the Glass River Woods in the south where Cassa lived, prohibited automobiles altogether. The King of Pallanon even mandated that railways would never be built in the Glass Woods.

The stillness of the campsite was really beginning to bother her. Actually, she had been troubled senseless for quite some time. This was supposed to be a vacation with her father, a getaway from the politics and the hysteria that has recently been plaguing the already restless, sleepless people of New Fricia. The two of them had agreed to take different trails leading deep into the forest and meet up at a riverside cottage that they had been going to since she was a child. She was within a few miles of the clearing when she saw the encampment not far from the path she was taking. Now she was kicking herself for letting her curiosity get the better of her.

There were little snippets where she found herself fascinated by the steam car. Not that she had never seen one—she had been seeing them all her life—but it brought up memories of when she had begged and begged her father to buy her one, but to no avail. She thanked him for it later, but she was still intrigued by them.

The steam car had a carriage-like structure to it with the elongated front revealing the steam tank and the small coal deposit where, thanks to recent invention and collaboration with the Department of Sorcery, single lumps of coal could burn for days. Usually, depending on how far people travel with their vehicles, they would only need to put in another lump of coal once a week.

Tearing her eyes away from the car, she checked her pocket watch. She had been perched in the tree for at least three hours. During that time, she had seen and heard nothing. Not even a snore or a stir. It was probably time to take a closer look. She silently climbed down from the tree. If it weren’t for the noise that it would create, she would have jumped the last ten feet, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Cassa was armed with her wand which was articulately decorated with Venhorian metal wire and encrusted with Galzhian enchantment crystals and dual swords that could be linked together to create a deadly sword staff.  Lastly, she carried clockwork pistols that were a gift from her brother.  She made her approach to the encampment. Clad in nimble, yet well-insulated white fur trench coat and clothing, she easily blending with the snow and shadows.

She was now at the steam car and her enhanced hearing had not deceived her. Something happened here. Not really wanting to, she stepped past the car and drew one of her swords. Walking up to one of the tents, she tentatively stuck her sword between the flaps and lifted.

“Oh, God!” she exclaimed as she recoiled. She was about to turn away when she heard someone say her name.

“Cassa?” she yelped and swung around, drawing one of her pistols and grasping it and her sword in the other hand in a defensive stance. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw who it was.

“Papa, I almost killed you!” she chastised as she put away her weapons.

Her father, Milo Salmyre, raised an eyebrow as he leaned against his staff. “Darling, you would have to do much more than that if you're going to kill me.”

Cassa frowned at him. They shared many features, including vivid purple eyes that most said reflected the wildness and untamable magic flowing through their hearts, soft and sharp high cheekbones, slightly upturned noses, high arched eyebrows, and somewhat rounded jawlines. However, her silky blonde hair greatly contrasted from his dark waves and perfect stubble that most men seem to have trouble achieving and, while she has been described as tall—though not quite as tall as he—and sharing a significant amount of grace in form, she was a curvy girl with small breasts against his lean build. He was not a towering man, but he definitely caught the eye of many a woman. They might have had the same eyes, but she felt that his had a fiery quality to them that she had witnessed paralyzing more than a few people with fear. Also, despite the two long scars that raked down the side of her face from her left temple down to the base of her neck, he tells her that she also casts a significant charm. Even his staff caught the eye of many.

It was extraordinary object of magic. Made for him by her mother, it was blacker than the night sky and topped with a sapphire covered in silver netting that continued about a quarter of the way down the length of the staff. It’s most distinguished feature was that it could be molded into almost anything from an elegant walking stick shorter than its current length to being split in half to create to swords. Now it was not without its limitations. It could not be molded into a firearm or even a crossbow; it could only be molded into a bladed weapon. Either way, it was a highly sought after object, mostly because the secret to its creation died with her mother.

“So, care to tell me why you had me worrying?” he requested. It sounded perfectly good natured, but she could tell that there was demand in there.

Cassa glanced down ruefully. “Sorry, Papa, I was hiking through the trail I always use and I just came across this encampment.” She gestured around the area. “I could not hear anything coming from it, so I decided to look into it. I sat in one of the trees for hours and that was when I got suspicious. I was looking into this tent when you came up behind me.”

Papa’s eyes moved past her to the tent and she stepped aside. With his staff, he drew back the flaps and did not move for several seconds. The body inside the tent was horrific. Genitals missing, eyes gouged out, countless cuts and stab wounds, fingernails, toenails, and teeth missing, and despite the looks of horror on what was left of their faces, the body looked like it was in a typical sleeping position, as if whoever did this went out of their way to make them look like they were sleeping after they were done mutilating them.

“It’s just like the bodies we found in Morten’s Landing,” Cassa pointed out.

“Yes, indeed, but this body—and the other bodies I would assume—are all Lycans,” observed Papa. Now Cassa was worried. The bodies in Morten’s Landing were Elves. “Oh, dear, oh, dear…” Papa walked away from the tent and sat down on one of the logs around the empty fire pit.

She joined him and laid a hand on his shoulder. She always had to keep herself from rubbing the exquisitely soft material of his silver fur cloak. The silvery material that she never learned the secret to even when he gave her one as a gift served as a protective armor against the supernatural, as a conductor for the magic they wielded, and to “make them look good for the ladies and gentlemen” as he liked to tease her and her brother, Liam, about. She was not wearing hers at the moment, but she did like to keep it close by. It was waiting for her at their vacation cottage.

“Papa, what’s the matter?” she asked comfortingly.

He hesitated. “I’m not sure; it might be nothing. Don’t allow yourself to be troubled, darling; we’re here to have a good time.” He put an arm around her waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Besides, since your brother could not be here, let’s not make him feel worse about it by trying to figure out what is probably being taken care of by the authorities, shall we?” Her brother was swamped with work.  Even though he earned himself a month's worth of vacation days, his supervisor refused to let him leave work.

“I can do that,” Cassa agreed. “I’ll race you back to the cottage.” She was already on her feet and running at inhuman speed through the woods. She could hear her father close behind her. It had been three years since she had won the race and it might have been a little less special since Liam was not there with them, but her competitive attitude was no less fierce. As she bounded and zigzagged through the uncultivated forest, she could feel her father gaining up on her. Determined, she pushed a little harder, not fully caring about the animals she spooked or the brush that was harmed. She was not nearly as caring about nature as her father was, but on a normal day she did not go out of her way to disrespect it either.

The cottage was beginning to appear through the trees and with a fierce cry, she sprinted.

Even as she ran, she couldn’t help but admire her family’s vacation home. Her father built it before she was born so that they could have a maternity retreat and he made every effort to impress. It was a high-arched house with a few windows on either slope and had a connecting shed that they used for a modest carriage and their horses on the south side and a high stone chimney on the north side.

The waterfalls to the east of the cottage were one of the main reasons Papa chose this location for the cottage. Almost year round, the tide was never too high, nor was it too low. In summer months they were very inviting, especially for when she wanted to go for a swim. She could never keep up with Liam when it came to swimming skills, but they really enjoyed combining their magical talents to play with the water, creating spectacular things out of it. With his help—she was surprised that their parents never thought of it—he discovered a way to change the pigment of the water. He even enchanted it so that at night, when the moon touched its surface, it glistened with brilliant colors.

The cottage was getting closer and closer quite fast and she slowed down as she came upon it. She came to a halt at the door and heaved in huge gulps of breath as she leaned into the door and sank down into a sitting position. Her father soon appeared next to her, panting hard as well. He sank down next to her. She would have said something, let out a cry of victory, but she was still catching her breath.

“So that’s why you’ve spent all those weeks jogging,” Papa laughed as he shrugged out of his cloak.

Cassa couldn’t hold it anymore; she laughed with him. “Well, every week when Liam comes home for supper he invites me out for a run.” She sometimes slowed down for his benefit since he was only a wizard and he could only go faster with the help of magic, but—mostly because of his encouragement—she ran as fast as she could.

“My, my, that sprinting has made me hungry,” said Papa. “How about you?”

Now that he mentioned it, she too was very hungry. “I wore myself out to do any cooking.”

Papa laughed again. “I hate to say it, but I believe I have as well.” More than once, their friends have told them that they ought to open their own restaurant, but they were happy with just cooking fine meals for their visitors. “Would you like to go into town?”

“Aren’t you worried Teri will try to kill us for not visiting her pub for so long?” asked Cassa fearfully.

Papa looked thoughtful. “Perhaps, but I am more worried about how she will do her best to fatten us up.” He broke into a wide grin. “You remember when she tried to serenade your brother?”

Cassa’s eyes rolled back into head at the memory. “That woman wore the lowest neckline I’d ever seen her wear. She even drugged him once with a poorly made love potion and almost killed him. And I almost killed her because of it. Remind me why you wiped her memory of that whole incident again?”

“She was going to forbid us from ever coming to her pub again,” he sounded bored, as if he was expecting that she would bring that up sooner or later. “Plus, she was never going to stop trying to woo your brother who was clearly failing to return her affection.”

“She just wasn’t the woman for him,” pointed out Cassa, although she might have been a little defensive. She wanted him to find someone and eventually he did find a more than suitable woman that Cassa was excited to call a sister-in-law. She decided to change the subject. “Should we get going?”

“Yes, we should.” Papa whistled a tone and Cassa soon followed suit with a distinct tone of her own.

A few minutes later, two elegant horses appeared. They were both Elvish horses gifted to them the Elven Court of Gongma. Papa’s horse was a white stallion. Far too white to be considered natural, even his eyes were white. Some thought him to be a blind horse, but his vision was much better than that of a typical horse. His appearance earned him the name “Phantom.”

Her horse was much different. Her mare was a deep reddish chestnut coat and her mane was as black as night. Lymira, she named her.

Sometimes she forgot to be grateful to the Elves. They were one of only a handful of peoples who accepted them with open arms. She quite a few friends among the Fair Folk and the horses were Yuletide gifts from the Elven Queen, Romera.

Lymira reached her before Phantom reached Papa and Cassa regarded her horse with pride. She smiled as she cupped Lymira’s snout. She spoke something in Elvish and the horse nickered a little. Papa mounted Phantom and Cassa soon followed suit with Lymira. Cassa did waste any time. She gently dug her spurs into Lymira’s sides and they bolted. Laughing, Papa soon caught up to her. Elvish horses are almost three times as fast as the horses of humans and are rivaled only by the horses of vampires and vehicles.

They stayed off the cobblestone roads and railroads, cutting through the countryside and winding their way through forgotten horse trails. The chill wind bit against Cassa’s cheeks and her eyes watered as she squinted. Sometimes she could see steam cars through the trees and she found herself fighting the temptation to race the occasional train.

They soon slowed to a trot as the village of Drebbidon came into view above the crest of the hill. Drebbidon was very small village, but it was a busy crossroads. Five roads, including a railway and a vehicle road ran through it. With the popularization of steam cars and airships, a coal station and even a docking tower above the courthouse was built. There was also a charms market that offered sorcerer’s orbs for steam cars, but they are ridiculously expensive.

“Cassa, stop,” she looked over at Papa and frowned. The sapphire on his staff was glowing and his eyes were intent. “Do you hear that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Papa, I don’t hear anything, so what’s…?” Her eyes widened.

“Exactly, Cassa,” he said. “Not even the sound of vehicles or people.” The sapphire and silver netting of his staff snaked downward and a double-edged blade half the length of the entire staff was revealed. “Take out your weapons.”

Cassa did as he asked and unsheathed her swords and pressed their pommels together. They interlinked and molded into a longer hilt, creating her sword staff. With it in her hand, they cautiously trotted into the village.

Usually, they are greeted by a swarm of children, a whore or two from the lousy rat hole of a brothel will offer to service Papa, or marketers might try to offer whatever they are selling from fruits, to vegetables, to meats, to dairy, to blood. Those who sell blood are on watch to make sure they are healthy and are not tainting their blood with poisons harmful to vampires. Those poisons were harmless to Cassa and her father, but it still made for a disgusting drink. Cassa might have had an opportunity or two to drink it straight from the source, but she still accepted blood from donors.

On they went into the village and not a single soul. She didn’t realize she was holding her sword staff too tightly. She loosened her grip a little. Papa stopped and held his staff in front of her horse, blocking her. She brought Lymira to a stop.

Without a word he dismounted and she followed. They walked up to the pub and Papa silently prompted her to stay put for a minute. Cautiously, he opened the door and just as quickly closed it again. When she saw his face, it was ashen.

“Papa?” asked Cassa, fearfully.

“All of them, the same as those campers, in every position you can think of,” he murmured. “They are all dead, even the children.”

Cassa wanted to vomit, but something she had been holding back came to mind. “Papa, there is something I must tell you.”

Papa’s eyes found hers and she couldn’t tell if they were accusative or curious.

“I got a letter from Liam a couple of days ago,” she breathed.

Papa gaped at her and she understood why. Liam spoke to them quite frequently through letters and telegrams, though for the past couple of months, his messages had grown more sporadic and he had stopped showing up for supper almost four weeks ago. “He swears that it is nothing personal, but something is happening at work and he has to put visits and messages on hold until he says that it is safe again.”

“Safe?” repeated Papa, straightening up. “Safe from what?”

“He wouldn’t say and he also said that it is too dangerous for us to offer our help,” which both annoyed and concerned her.

“Oh, dear,” Papa breathed. “I am beginning to wonder if perhaps these murders are attracting his attention as well. I didn’t want to say this before but I think you and I both know what is happening.”

Cassa’s face drained of color. “Is it…?”

“Yes, my child, this is the work of a Snypes.”