Assassin of the Damned (Dark Gods) Read Online Free PDF

said. “Move in among horsemen.”
    “Are you jesting?” she said. “I’d flee, but you’re quicker than a stoat and would catch me. You can kill them.”
    “Run and leave your precious cargo?” I asked.
    “You evaded Ox’s club,” she said, “twice. You caught me on the road when I tried to run. You must know your own quickness, signor. Combined with your great strength—and with my powder—Filippo’s as good as dead.”
    I recalled the White Company mercenaries. Had I dodged the first crossbow bolt? I’d moved among them as if they’d stood spellbound, and I’d snatched the knife out of the second crossbowman’s hand. I pressed a hand against my chest and poked a finger where the crossbow bolt had torn into chainmail. The flesh underneath was whole and the ribs intact. Yet the bolt had pierced my body and I’d leaked a black fluid.
    My scowl deepened. I could see in the dark. I moved as fast as a stoat. I hit like a bull, and now I could heal like a lizard, one that re-grows its tail.
    “I have a plan, signor,” Ofelia said as she graced me with a rat-like grin. “My papa taught me to always have a plan.” The wagon creaked along a ravine thick with brush. “Magi Filippo has seen you. I’m sure you frightened him. He might be too cautious to step into our trap if he spies you here.”
    “You want me to lay in the wagon with the dead?” I asked.
    “No. I think you should drape Ox’s cloak over your armor. Hunch as Ox always did. Keep silent when they ride up, for Ox seldom spoke. When I kick you, close your eyes. I’ll toss the powder. Trust me, signor. You’ll know the flash went off. That is when you draw your sword.”
    It was simple, and it played on Filippo’s likely expectations. But could I trust this grave robber? Could I trust my strength and speed to slay Filippo? How did I know the others would scatter at his death? What if they wore plate, wore all the armor a knight should?
    A horn blared. It was loud, arrogant and close.
    I hurried into the wagon-bed and tore away Ox’s hooded cloak. Soon I sat on the buckboard with my flimsy disguise. I was barely in time.
    They came out of a clump of trees, the hounds first. They were vile creatures. I hadn’t expected it. How could I? The hounds were elongated men who ran on their hands and feet. They were naked and their backs were high off the ground. Their eyes bulged and some had fangs instead of teeth. One of them bayed. The others panted and loped toward us.
    “What are they?” I whispered in horror.
    “Damned creatures,” Ofelia whispered, “who ran afoul of the Lord of Night.”
    “Who?” I whispered.
    She shot me an incredulous glance.
    Horsemen thundered into view. The riders were big, wore flapping cloaks and hoods. Fortunately, none clinked with mail or clanked with plate. Even with my demonic vision, it was hard to see their faces. Several of the riders seemed to have snouts like beasts. I felt then as if I’d ridden into the first canto of Dante’s Inferno . I believe I was as terrified and horrified as when Dante first called out to eerie-voiced Virgil.
    I barely remembered in time Ofelia’s plan. I hunched on the buckboard, kept my head down. The rusty, Villani-forged sword lay at my feet.
    “Halt!” a man shouted. I thought I recognized his voice.
    Ofelia drew rein. We creaked to a stop, swayed. Horses neared. Torches hissed and threw flickering light.
    I peered out of my hood. Magi Filippo, the supposed eel-fisher’s apprentice, rode in the lead on an elegant Arabian horse. He held a torch and had a feline smile that oddly matched his forked beard. His pendant thumped against a leather jerkin. He must have been proud of the pendant or maybe it was the symbol of his authority. Behind him followed big riders. One of them gazed at me. Torchlight reflected out of his eyes as if he was a wolf. I shuddered, and wondered what had occurred to turn men into creatures and creatures into men.
    The altered hounds snarled