Free Gathering of the Chosen by Timothy L. Cerepaka Page A

output of his magical energy, but
his barrier only seemed to grow weaker and weaker under the
pressure that the assassin placed on it, until soon Braim was
certain that his shield would break any minute now.
    And then it broke, far sooner than Braim
expected, and the sword went flying through the air toward him.
Braim dodged the blade, allowing the sword to strike the floor
where he stood, but almost immediately another sword, similar to
the first, appeared out of nowhere and stabbed at Braim.
    Because Braim had not expected the second
sword, he dodged it much less gracefully than the last one. The
sword did not mortally wound him, but it managed to cut through his
shoulder, causing pain to shoot through his body as he gasped.
    But Braim had enough sense in him to
stagger out of the way of the assassin's next blow. He covered his
shoulder with his free hand, stemming the blood to the best of his
ability, while aiming his wand at the assassin, who turned to face
Braim again.
    By the dim light streaming through the
cracks of the curtains, Braim thought he saw that the assassin had
four arms. Two were in the regular spot where arms should go, while
the other two sprouted out of the assassin's shoulders. The
assassin had two swords, each one glowing with magical energy. The
assassin's eyes, however, were blank, which made it impossible to
tell what it was thinking or who it might have been.
    “Four arms, but two swords?” said Braim,
chuckling despite the pain in his shoulder from where the assassin
had hit him. “Decided to go easy on me, eh? Or are you just too
poor to afford four?”
    The assassin paused, as if Braim had just
made a good point, and then drew two more swords, similar to the
ones it already wielded, from somewhere behind it. The assassin
then combined the hilts of each sword pair, creating two
double-bladed lances that looked even deadlier than the assassin
itself. Then it drew out four more swords and created two more
double-bladed lances, effectively giving itself eight swords at
once.
    “Damn it,” said Braim. “It was just a
joke. I know that most assassins don't have a great sense of humor,
but you didn't need to pull out all of your swords on little
old me.”
    The assassin said nothing in response, but
whether that was because it could not speak or simply chose not to,
Braim didn't know. Nor was it very relevant, because that thing
could kill him all by itself whether it could speak or not.
    Then it stepped backwards and vanished
instantly. It seemed to melt into the shadows, but that made no
sense, because Braim couldn't see anywhere it could have hidden
itself.
    A second later, Braim heard the sound of
blades whistling through the air. He jumped forward, narrowly
avoiding getting his head chopped off. Then he looked over his
shoulder just in time to see the assassin's arm vanish back into
the shadows.
    It can shadow travel? Braim
thought. What the hell? I didn't even know that was
possible.
    Braim's thoughts were interrupted when the
door to his room burst open. Light from the outside hall streamed
in as Darek staggered inside, his wand at the ready, his head
whipping back and forth as he looked for the threat.
    “Darek?” said Braim in surprise. “What are
you doing here?”
    “Heard what sounded like fighting coming
from your room,” said Darek, panting as his eyes scanned the
shadows of the room. “Were you atta—”
    Braim saw the assassin's blades appear
over Darek's head, causing him to shoot a burst of light from his
wand at them. The burst hit the blades and they vanished, while
Darek just looked up at the spot where the swords had been in
shock.
    “What was that?” said Darek, looking at
Braim again.
    “The assassin who's been trying to kill me
for the past three minutes or so,” Braim said. “He vanished into
the shadows. Don't know how he did that.”
    “He must be an adherent of the Thief's
Way,” Darek said, snapping his fingers. “It's a magical path
usually studied by