Craine.

The smell of it was so damned familiar, even though almost twenty years had passed since he last walked these streets. Even as Gestlin nattered on, saying absolutely nothing that was of importance, Gabriel was lost to the memories. He did not realize until it was too late that his feet had once again led him by his old home. Thankfully, the wizard beside him seemed ignorant of his distraction as he continued to ramble about … what? Was he talking about rabbits? No matter. As long as he paid no attention to Gabriel’s expression.

Nothing remained of his old home, though that was no surprise, not with how he and Father left it so very long ago. This was the first time since then he’d dared to even set foot in this neighborhood – when last he was in Craine some sixteen years back, he’d given this entire side of the city a wide berth. Gabriel grimaced at the new house there – the stonework was all wrong; the roof was in that new style which was so unattractive, but the smells … they were still the same despite the years…

Twenty-Two Years Ago

The ring of steel against steel woke him.

Gabriel was already out of his bed, his legs tense and his muscles taut, long before his brain realized what was happening. He heard the grunts of men dying, of blades slicing through flesh and cloth, of hurried orders called out by unfamiliar voices. Fear coursed through his body as he hesitantly reached for the sheathed half-sword hanging off of his bed. He had just pulled the tiny rapier out when his door exploded.

Father was there, blood streaming down his face, and he danced away from the blades of two heavily armored men – with a flourish that Gabriel recognized as Kissing the Adder, his father dropped one of the men, and then twirled away from the other warrior’s fierce counterstrike. Overbalanced, the murderer had to throw himself to the ground to avoid Father’s spinning strike.

The man never saw Gabriel.

His rapier thrust was a simple one – Eel Among the Lily Pads – but the blade sliced through the man’s pants with immediate results. The murderer cried out in shock and pain, recoiling away with such speed that it tore the small rapier from Gabriel’s hand. Terror lanced through Gabriel then as the man gave him a dark look – he had no weapon! – but Father was faster, smoother, more dangerous. He flowed back into position, the rapier flickering faster than the eye could follow, and the wounded man’s cry turned into a startled gurgle as the elder Auditore cut his throat.

“Get your boots, boy,” Father ordered sharply. “Quickly now!” His voice was harsh and cold, but Gabriel could see the pain in his eyes. He wanted to hesitate, wanted to ask questions, but the fear that threatened to turn his bowels to water instead gave strength to his muscles. With deft fingers, he pulled on his boots and then, at Father’s quick head gesture, donned the traveling cloak. “Stay close,” Father instructed as he glided out of the room. Gabriel followed.

Beyond, in the wide dining hall, there were a dozen bodies, all armored but unmoving. The sharp smell of spilled blood hit him at once and Gabriel barely bit back the urge to vomit – he swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he followed Father toward the study. There too were corpses, all wearing black and gray. Gabriel had no eyes for them.

Because his mother was here as well.

She was on the floor, half leaning against Father’s desk, staring sightlessly at him, and Gabriel automatically cried out in horror when he saw the crimson staining her dress. Two crossbow bolts stood out from her chest and the expression on her face was one of surprise. He took a step closer to her, his mind reeling, but Father caught his shoulder with his free hand.

“There’s no time for tears, lad,” he said through clenched teeth. Abruptly, Gabriel realized that Father was also bleeding – he had a crossbow bolt in his belly as well, but somehow, was still moving. “Grieve later,” Father ordered. He led the way to the secret passageway concealed by the fireplace, pausing momentarily to snatch one of the oil lanterns from where it hung just within. With a flick of his wrist, Father sent the lantern tumbling toward the shelves on the far side of the study – it shattered with an explosion of glass, hurling oil in all directions and, almost instantly, fire sprang up. “Requiescat in pace, my love,” Father murmured as he backed into the tunnel. He triggered the release and, with the soft sound of muted gears turning, the fireplace rolled back into place, leaving them in the darkness broken only by the faint light of the other lanterns.

“Father…”

“There is no time,” came the immediate response. “We must away from Craine as quickly as possible.”

“You’re wounded,” Gabriel began before blinking. “Claudia,” he said as he glanced around. “Where is my sister?”

“With the Lord now,” Father said grimly. He began limping down the narrow corridor.

The flight from Craine was a nightmare of madness, blood and death. They emerged from the concealed tunnel into the city proper, but found a handful of men waiting for them. Father danced the forms brilliantly, killing three before they even knew of the danger they were facing, and then slew the remaining two in a blink of an eye. Gabriel’s fear gave way to anger and, when reinforcements arrived, he fell upon them fiercely, the raw fury of his attack making up for his poor form. One, he killed outright – an exceedingly sloppy Mongoose Takes a Viper – and the other, he slowed long enough for Father to draw close enough to stab him through the eye. These men also were given to the fire, though this time, it was Gabriel who threw his lantern. The blaze grew rapidly – it had been a dry summer and there was too much straw here – and they fled into the darkened alleys as the hungry flames crawled up the building that was the Auditore ancestral home.

Father led him through the back streets and alleys that were a veritable maze. They paused briefly to dress his wounds – Gabriel could not help but to notice how hot his father’s skin was – and then pressed on, evading the watch with almost casual ease. To his surprise, Father angled not for the gates, but rather the docks where he entered a darkened warehouse that jutted out over the river. Inside, there were several boats of varying size and he pointed to a small skiff clearly meant for but a few. Into the boat, Father tossed several items taken from various hiding places within the warehouse – several oilskin cloaks, a heavy bag that had the look of traveling supplies, several long poles that Gabriel thought to be for fishing – and then climbed in awkwardly.

“Keep low and silent,” he ordered once they had both donned the darkened cloaks. He pushed them away from where they had been moored and the fast-moving current carried them free. Rowing was not necessary, not with the flow of the river so swift, and with the moon high in the sky, they raced to western river-gate. It was closed, of course, but only for large vessels – a small fisherman’s boat like this was easily maneuvered through the narrow gaps. There was even a watchman who did not bother stirring from where he crouched atop the river-gate, though Gabriel suspected the man was actually asleep.

Gabriel looked back as Craine fell away from view. The adrenaline and the terror were beginning to wane, leaving only a frightened, cold boy of fourteen. Father was murmuring something that had the sound of a prayer and Gabriel was suddenly struck by how tired the man looked.

Put away your childhood, he told himself. Raphael, his elder brother, now a score of months dead, had told him to do that once, and the words rang true. Yes. It was time to become a man.

“I can steer,” he told his father as he crept toward the tiller. He knew only the basics of boatmanship, but right now, they were simply allowing the current to carry them. “You should rest, Father.” It was only logical.

Because they had a long way to go.