Horizon of War Series

Chapter 189: The Shadow of Death

Chapter 189: The Shadow of Death

The Shadow of Death

Assassins

The mage and the hunter advanced toward the overturned carriage. Mounted on his horse, the hunter accelerated, circling to cut off any escape attempt. As they drew closer, his attention was drawn to a plume of blue smoke billowing from the location of their ambush near the main road. "Colored smoke," he announced sharply, alerting his companion.

The mage cast a glance at the ominous signal and clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Cursed! No wonder the escort felt comfortable taking some distance," he muttered to himself, then shouted, "That’s a signal. Expect a pair of riders."

Thunderous hooves came as expected. Two horsemen quickly bore down on them from the direction of the main road, their crossbows at the ready.

"Keep going, I'll handle this," the hunter barked, readying his bow and arrow, and spurred his horse toward the new threat.

The mage tapped into his source and sprinted toward the carriage, but his focus now split.

The two mounted guardsmen divided their attack; one moved toward the hunter, the other pursuing the mage.

The hunter and the guardsman released their projectiles simultaneously, nearly hitting their horses. Clearly, there was no honor here, with both targeting the horses to ensure their opponents' defeat. As they closed the distance, they did not break off but instead drew their swords, steel glinting as they prepared for a killing strike.

Both squared off, their gazes cold and murderous, and then they clashed. The hunter powerfully launched his swing, his heavy blade cutting through the air with raw strength. Sparks erupted as steel clashed against steel, and the mounted guardsman was hurled from his saddle by the sheer force of the blow. The impact was powerful enough that even the two horses staggered off the path, but a faint smile crept across the guardsman’s lips—his instincts had been right.

He hadn't trained with Francisca and Sir Harold to die like common guards. He had anticipated the opponent's strength, suspecting that with such a small number of assailants, there was likely a mage involved. Thus, he had loosened his foot in the stirrup and relaxed his grip on the saddle before the clash. This maneuver prevented him from being fatally dragged by his horse.

Determined to fight even for a single breath longer to save his lord, the guardsman braced for the fall and rolled as soon as he hit the ground. Bruised and bleeding, he quickly knelt, dusted off his crossbow, primed it using the lever and fired a bolt at an unsuspecting target.

His aim was true, striking the hunter's horse as it moved away, eliciting the beast's shocked and wild reaction. Although the hunter managed to maintain control and pulled the bolt from the beast's hind, another bolt whizzed too close, forcing him to turn and retaliate.

Despite the hunter bearing down on him, the fallen guardsman didn't flinch; he cocked the lever, aimed, and released another bolt. His rapid-fire forced the hunter to pull his steed to the side to evade—not out of fear for himself but to save his mount. He couldn't afford to lose the horse, should his main target run away.

"How can he fire so many bolts so quickly?" the hunter cursed, trying a different approach.

The guardsman unleashed bolt after bolt, but the hunter regained his composure. He had faced worse monsters. With eerie calmness, he directed his steed into a circling gallop and drew his steel bow to full draw, aiming with the accuracy befitting a master marksman. He then released two well-aimed arrows that pierced the immobile guardsman’s shoulder and chest. The heavy arrows, typically used for hunting large game, penetrated his ringmail and threw the guardsman aside.

As the guardsman felt his life ebbing and blood seeping from deep wounds, he crawled back, sat in the grass, and with labored breath and shaky hands, cocked the lever. But the hunter was prepared and released another arrow, striking the guardsman's chest just below the neck.

Before he lay dead, his final bolt took flight and struck the hunter's right wrist. Despite his toughened body tissues, the sharp bolt head painfully grazed the skin. It wasn't deep but was enough to cause blood to stream out. He cursed his carelessness but wasted no time in proceeding to his main target.

Riding to assist the mage, he found that his ally had just dispatched the mounted guardsman heading his way.

Breathing raggedly, the mage had used a powerful static charge to kill both the horse and the rider from afar. Although he drew the charge from an external power source—a dwarven gemstone—it still strained his body immensely, almost reducing him to crawling.

Seeing the hunter, the mage shouted, "Go, go to the carriage! I see three climbing out, at least two with those crossbows."

The hunter didn't need to ask and spurred his horse toward the wreckage. Despite a trail of blood on its hind, the beast complied energetically. He had paid a good price for this horse, and it was quite ironic to use fine Lowlandian horses to hunt down their own lord.

From a distance, he saw the carriage door was already open, and three figures had positioned themselves behind their overturned carriage, using it as a makeshift wall. As the hunter approached, they unleashed a flurry of bolts without hesitation.

The hunter reacted quickly, already familiar with the quick-firing crossbows. He dodged as two deadly steel bolts flew by, while another two screamed toward him. It would have been fatal had he not noted how quickly they could fire and maintained his distance.

Even with bolts flying toward him, he pressed on, aiming to circle to the enemy's rear. His horse labored heavily beneath him, its sides heaving with fatigue from the relentless gallop, yet it kept going. Finally, after dodging two more bolts that whizzed dangerously close, they managed to circle behind the enemy. Without hesitation, the hunter drew on the strength of his steel bow, taking full advantage of his position, and released two rapid arrows at the exposed defender.

He had managed to injure one of the guards, pinning his shoulder to the carriage, and was about to deliver the final blow when another guard persistently fired bolt after bolt at him, while a third took over the injured guardsman’s crossbow. Consequently, the hunter widened his circle and returned to his ally’s position.

"Change tactics, keep the horse safe," the hunter commanded as he dismounted, preparing to sprint on foot when the mage grabbed him.

"We've spent too much time on this. I fear more are coming."

"Then I'll be quick," the hunter replied.

"Let me help you," the mage insisted. He channeled his source toward the carriage area and drew energy from the gemstone, instantly unleashing a blinding white flash.

A violent thunderclap followed, its ear-splitting sound shocking everyone; even the horse reared up, ready to bolt if not for their effort to hold it down.

Afterward, the mage collapsed into a seated position, his face sweating profusely. He knew he had overexerted himself.

"Take the reins, or escape if you have to," the hunter commanded, then sprinted toward the carriage to finish the job.

Even from afar, he could see smoke rising from the overturned carriage. At full power, the static charge was akin to a lightning strike. Witnessing it closely, he couldn't help but feel envious of such a versatile ability.

Out of the blue, a distinct buzzing sound sliced through the air, catching him off guard. It was distant but pronounced enough to make him pause. "Bolts?" he readying his bow, his eyes glowing golden as he scanned the landscape. Yet, he saw none.

Screams from behind alerted him to turn; he saw the horse galloping away, a projectile protruding from its back. Meanwhile, his ally was on the ground, pierced by another bolt. It was a lapse; they hadn't seen the threat coming. Now, the mage crawled and maintained his ethereal shield, but his wounds suggested he might not last long.

More buzzing sounds filled the air and one landed near the hunter's position. It was only then he realized they were arrows, with several more in the air aimed at him.

"Where are they? Why can't I see anyone?" the hunter muttered irritably as he dashed toward the upturned carriage, dodging random hails of mysterious arrows. Unlike mages, he had no ethereal shield to block projectiles. Based on the poor accuracy, the bowman was likely shooting from afar, but the speed and strength required to do so at such an extreme range, beyond his sight, boggled his mind.

He scanned the cluster of trees, but even with his enhanced eyesight, he found nothing. Faced with the unnerving reality of unseen assailants, he steeled himself to fight under a hail of mysterious arrows. The mission in Korelia had proven deadly, and despite the involvement of three assassins, success was still elusive. But he wouldn't allow it to fail.

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Mere arrows wouldn't dissuade him from his prize. He pumped his legs and made a huge leap straight onto the top of the overturned carriage.

He landed with a creak from the wooden structure. Drawing his dagger, he glanced at the three guards outside, finding them either unconscious or dead. He was about to search inside the carriage for a person with black hair when his instincts alerted him to three small figures in the distance, sprinting on all fours, moving fast. "Half-beasts—"

"Guh," he grunted, recoiling from the bolt that struck his stomach. He was only momentarily distracted, but it was enough for the guard to sneak in that bolt. "How are you still alive?" he demanded.

The guard remained silent and pumped the lever on his crossbow. Enraged, the hunter snapped the bolt shaft in half and dove into the upturned carriage. He intended to kill the Black Lord first and deal with the guard at his leisure, but instead, he found only an unconscious woman. This fueled his fury even more. With all his might, he leaped from inside the carriage, the force of his exit rocking the carriage so violently that it shocked the surviving guard.

He landed nearby, deflecting a bolt in one swift motion as he unsheathed his heavy sword and charged. "I'll kill you all. One of you must be him!" he bellowed, lunging at the guard with ferocious intent. But the man was not easily subdued; with a desperate heave, he slammed his crossbow into the hunter's face.

The hunter smacked the crossbow away with a flash of his sword, but the guard in the blue tunic was ready with his sword. Without hesitation, the hunter lunged with a powerful thrust; sparks flew, but the man blocked him.

The exertion made blood seep from his wounded stomach, and then the hunter realized his opponent had unique traces of magic on him. "A gemstone of might, the champion's secrets," he muttered. His attention briefly shifted to the pack of half-beasts charging toward him, and behind them, a towering cloud of dust—likely raised by galloping horses—loomed. "Fuck," he cursed.

"Who sent you?" the lone guard demanded, but the hunter had already launched into a flurry of strikes aiming to overwhelm him. One strike aimed at the head was parried before the guard countered with an equally vicious strike toward the hunter's leg.

The hunter blocked it smoothly. A smile formed on his lips. "Does it matter?" he retorted, his eyes glowing with a golden hue that could petrify even the fiercest animals. The guard flinched, and the hunter advanced, poised to strike, but instead, he took a firm fist to the face. The blow smashed his nose, rattled his brain, and wounded his pride.

"Why you!" he stumbled back, blood trickling from his nose, but quickly regained his footing and parried another near-fatal blow. Enraged, he overpowered the parry, turning it into a grapple. He surprised his opponent with his raw strength, surpassing even that of mages.

As they wrestled with their swords, the hunter suddenly leaned in, disrupting their balance, and headbutted the guard. The impact sent the man reeling back, revealing a hint of black hair under his helmet. A smile of realization spread across the hunter's face. "My Lord, I apologize, I didn't know—"

His mockery stopped as the Lord sent him an uppercut from a blind angle. A sharp pain to the head almost made him stumble, but it wasn't the end. The Lord of Korelia gathered his strength, intertwined his fingers, and hammered down a ferocious double-fisted blow that jolted his opponent's skull.

The man finally went down, grinning, blood trickling from his lips and streaking down his battered face. Yet, against all odds, he stood up, his blade still secured in his hand, and challenged, "Come at me, O famed lord! Is this all you can do?"

In response, the lord launched a powerful overhead slash. The hunter parried with all his might; the clash of their swords rang sharply in the air. The force was so great that the lord's blade chipped and was flung aside. Meanwhile, the hunter's sword was directed against the lord's stomach but was deflected by a swift hand.

The hunter tried to capitalize on his advantage to end his target for good, but the lord, defying any conventional tactics, lunged forward, sweeping the hunter's legs with both arms. Both men tumbled to the ground hard, with the hunter taking the worst of it. He barely regained his breath when the lord attempted to maneuver on top of him.

The hunter resisted fiercely, and both exchanged brutal punches. The lord finally gained the upper hand by slamming his fist onto the broken bolt shaft in the hunter's stomach. "Guhh!"

A lapse was all the lord needed to secure a dominant position, pinning the hunter down. He rained down a flurry of punches. "Who sent you?"

The hunter managed to block a dozen of blows, then found an opening. With a powerful punch, he struck the lord's face, breaking his nose and causing blood to gush from a nostril. "Gold sent me," he spat as he scrambled to his feet and drew a dagger.

But his triumph was short-lived. A gargantuan half-beast burst onto the scene, swiping its wide arms and sharp claws toward the hunter, who desperately blocked each attack with his dagger. The creature’s onslaught was relentless, driving the hunter back. Yet, he remained standing, cleanly parrying each blow, until, at last, the beast paused, panting heavily to catch its breath.

Despite his injuries, the hunter stood defiantly before suddenly scrambling toward the upturned carriage.

"He's retrieving his bow," the Lord warned, and the beast leaped to chase.

The hunter spotted his steel bow and several arrows scattered from his quiver. He dashed forward, drawing with all his strength. As he nocked an arrow and lay down to aim, the half-beast, as expected, charged blindly toward him. "You're just a beast!" he mocked, releasing the fully drawn arrow straight into the beast's face.

The beast groaned, but instead of whimpering and retreating, it pounced with vengeance.

"Oh fuck!" the hunter exclaimed as a giant fist crashed into his chest. His vision blurred red, his lungs gasped for air, and the last thing he heard was, "Don’t kill him, we need him alive. I want to know who’s responsible for this."

***

Lansius

Amid the green scenery and beneath the blue skies, Lansius was carried by Francisca, who tried her best to keep him comfortable while maintaining her speed. Sir Harold rode at their side, with twenty more surrounding them, accompanied by a large male half-beast that had taken an arrow to his left cheek.

The strength provided by the gemstone had depleted, and Lansius felt all his bruises and wounds sting him mercilessly, jolting him awake. His head was dizzy from the burst of strength that had heavily taxed his body. "The man is beyond a mage," he muttered, recalling the fight that was still fresh in his mind.

"Conserve your strength, My Lord," Francisca replied, her breath ragged from sprinting to reach him.

"How are the men? How's Carla? Did she...?" Lansius asked, pressing a bloodied piece of cloth to his nose to stop the bleeding.

"She'll make it, I'll ensure she makes it," Sir Harold reassured him.

Turning to the knight, Lansius asked, "Who's in charge of the capture?"

"Sir Omin and the guards are currently handling it. Sir Michael will soon arrive with his cavalry," Sir Harold reported.

As they reached the Eastern Mansion, everyone in Lansius' group appeared fatigued yet relieved. His attention was then captured by the tall wooden tower where a bronze parabolic dish was mounted. Atop it stood a figure with a bow, her posture as regal as if she were a guardian spirit of the realms. The sight caused murmurs and whispers of awe among those nearby.

"Who?" Lansius began, but before he could finish, he recognized the silhouette and the kimono. "Why is the baroness standing there? It's dangerous," he exclaimed.

"My Lord," Francisca called gently, "My Lady is the one who truly saved you. The arrows that landed near your position were hers. She saw the blue smoke and climbed up with quivers of arrows, assisted by several of my kin, whom I ordered to stay."

Lansius was stunned and gazed at the angel of his life. "You mean she, at such range, with a bow?"

"She even managed to take down one," Sir Harold reported. "One of her arrows protruding from one of the assassins we captured."

Lansius was stunned to hear it. He knew Audrey had remarkable eyesight, likely amplified by magic, but he had never realized it was that good. Now, he was curious about what bow she used, because he didn't recall they had one capable of reaching such a range without breaking.

He was still mulling this over as they crossed the courtyard and entered the hall. Then, they closed the gates and began to barricade everything.

"From now on, it's a lockdown!" Sir Harold announced to the worried staff, who crowded around to see the lord. "If they have accomplices in the city, or even here, we'll find out."

"Don't spread panic," Lansius urged, forcing himself to stand despite the painful sensations throughout his body and the still-bleeding lacerations on his wrist and arm.

His staff noticed the lord's blue tunic was bloodied and tattered, yet it only enhanced his heroic appearance. Lansius approached his seat, grimacing from pain as he settled down. His gaze was deep and solemn as he looked around at those gathered. "Hear my order," he commanded in a clear, authoritative voice.

"My Lord," they all responded, surrounding him with looks of deep concern, care, and renewed respect.

***

Korelia

As the first mark of blue smoke curled into the sky, all city gates clanged shut. The sight of blue was rare and ominous; to those in the chain of command, it signaled one thing: their Lord was in danger. No one else had access to this specific smoke color except the Lord's bodyguards. The response was immediate and formidable: every available dragoon and man-at-arms was mobilized.

The sudden surge of horsemen and men-at-arms throughout the city took everyone by surprise. Rumors flew, compelling residents to barricade themselves inside their homes. Soon, even more patrols filled the streets, including the famed Black Knights.

As the hours passed, the air thickened with anxiety. The city, gripped by concern, wondered: Was this an attempted coup or something more sinister? As suspicion and fear enveloped the city, the uncertainty stretched on.

Finally, the Lord's knights, acting as heralds, brought news: the Lord had been attacked by unknown assailants but had survived with only minor bruises.

Upon hearing this, the Korelians breathed a collective sigh of relief. Yet, their initial fear quickly turned to anger as they demanded to know who was behind the attack.

In taverns, baths, and the city plaza, people gathered and debated. Such a brazen attack on their leader and the nascent Shogunate stirred something within them—an ember, long unrealized, now burned brightly. To them, the shogunate was more than just some lord's plan. It was the dream that bound them, a hope of a peaceful future in Lowlandia, an era of no more strife over the Great Plains.

To them, the shogunate was the glue that united natives, migrants, and nomadic communities alike.

To them, the shogunate was the new identity.

And now, this dream was desecrated by an act as shocking as an assassination attempt. The attack on their leader mocked every Lowlandian's hope. It was as disrespectful as dishonoring the graves of their fathers, sons, husbands, and relatives who had died in countless previous conflicts. Such an outrage turned their collective grief into burning anger.

That night, as the initial shock gave way to a smoldering fury, the people of Lowlandia steeled themselves. A solid resolve was born, and with it, an equally strong craving for one thing: retribution.

Everyone openly wished to contribute to the war effort. And when morning came, they got what they had yearned for.

The entire military had been mobilized. The vanguard, the main army, and the reserves had received their commands. Korelia was now on a war footing. Someone had cast the dice against their Lord and the Shogunate, and now all of Lowlandia would rise.

***