Seeing the change in my eyes, Kinarin took his hands off my shoulders and said, "Come, we have not a moment to lose."
"Where are we going?" I asked him.
"We are going to get your sisters," he answered as we hurried down the hall, and rounding the turn at its end.
"Vennesulte does not think they will be alone. Their woman will probably be with them," he said ominously remembering our first encounter.
"I will deal with her. Both of you will retrieve the girls," he said as he signaled us to slow and finally stop. "If I am correct, she, the one they call Vismorda, will have taken your sisters to begin another training session. And if I am correct again, she will be alone with them. Therefore, our numbers will be equal. Drin, Vennesulte, do you think you can subdue the girls long enough to inject them with this?" he asked as he produced two vials from his belt underneath his robes.
"Vennesulte believes we will, though not without delivering minor injuries to them. They have grown fierce and efficient," he said.
Not waiting for me to answer, Kinarin continued, "Good. We will have only one chance at this. Now Drin, how is your escape plan coming? Did you create a mental outline of these halls that will lead you back to the castle?"
It took me a moment to complete, but I did. While training as an assassin, Kinarin always emphasized the importance of escaping. And the greater the assassin's understanding of the geographical layout of his surroundings, the greater his chance of living to assassinate again. He relentlessly wove this practice into all of my training, randomly pausing to ask where we were in relation to our target, detailed directions of several escape plans, as well as on the fly adjustments. I had not realized it, but because of this, I had subconsciously created a memorable and working mental map of the halls and doors we had been traversing. It was ready and so was I.
"Yes," I answered as he handed us the vials. "What is this, I asked?"
"It is what alchemists refer to as a sedative. It will slow their functions and dull their minds to the point where they will not be able to offer resistance. While I am dealing with Vismorda, you will have to inject your sisters with it. But do it quickly because I am sure an alarm will be raised soon after we reveal our true purpose."
"Will it harm them?" I asked.
"Do you wish to see them freed?" he asked me in return. Before I answered, I had already given voice to the completion of this conversation in my mind. Of course, I wished to see them freed; therefore, any potential harm to them would be a necessary risk. When I did not answer, Kinarin correctly assumed the same completion in his mind. "Good. Now listen. They will be through this doorway. They will be undergoing their training. Follow my lead and I believe we will be successful."
"How do you know they will be behind this door?" I asked him.
"That is not important, but make no mistake, they are there. Now, if there are no more questions, it is time," he said, looking to both of us.
"You did not fight this woman, Kinarin. She is more powerful and quicker than anything I have encounter before," I said feeling necessary to warn him. She was the one variable I did not believe we could account for. She had managed to subdue both Vennesulte and myself, a feat that not even Bractos nor the numerous guards we faced were able to do. I was not even sure Kinarin could face the both of us and emerge victorious.
"Leave her to me," he answered and stared straight into my eyes.
Fluidly, Kinarin turned toward the doors and walked up to them, still mimicking the gait pattern of the Necrons. He placed his hands on the handles and pulled both of them open to reveal a large and mostly empty room. Lining the walls were several racks of weapons of various makes. It was illuminated by several large wall sconces and two large candelabras hanging from the ceiling. Kinarin had been correct in his assumption, they were alone, and they were training. Vismorda's back was turned to us as she was watching my sisters battle each other, neither of them gaining the upper hand. Almost as soon as we entered, however, she turned around and authoritatively spoke, "What is the meaning of this, Necron?"
"Vismorda, I regret the interruption, however, Lord Kahl suggested that we observe your methods as a beginning step in the suggestion you made to Mordin in the Inquisition chamber," he said keeping his head bowed.
"Lord Kahl suggested this? During one of my training sessions with my Ravens?" she asked skeptically.
"I was likewise surprised with the rapidity of his suggestion, but one does not refuse Lord Kahl, as I am sure you well know," Kinarin said.
Vismorda turned to my sisters and issued a single word command to which they halted their combat. She turned back to us and spent several moments in silence, perhaps in examination of each of us. After she looked at Kinarin for an extended period of time, she spoke again, "You are right, Necron, one does not refuse Lord Kahl, but neither would he instruct anyone to interrupt a training session of his most favored little birds. No, I think not." She grinned slightly and continued, "These two little boys, “she said while nodding toward Vennesulte and I, “I have already had the opportunity to instruct, but not you. Please, remove your hood so I can see the eyes of the man who dares to confront me."
Kinarin slowly reached up with both hands and removed his hood. As he did, Vismorda's grin grew in its admission of possibility. "Finally, the day has seen it fit to send me a man who will undoubtedly bring me much pleasure in his breaking. The young ones proved much too easy. But you, yes you I think will not break so quickly."
"I fear you will find no pleasure within me," said Kinarin as he untied and removed his robe. Dressed fully in his assassin's gear, he looked the part of lethality made flesh. There was no malice or threat in his voice, only certainty.
"You know so little of who we are?" said Vismorda as she unsheathed her two black bladed swords. "Allow me to instruct you in our intricacies."
Kinarin mimicked her by drawing both of his elongated daggers, "I fear the instruction will be yours."
As they began slowly circling each other the way a predatory animal does when preparing to engage its prey, Vismorda turned to my sisters, "Do not interfere, my little Ravens, this will be over quickly."
Kinarin likewise addressed us, "Do what you must. This will be your only chance."
Their circling continued to slowly spiral in until they were but a sword's length away. Vennesulte moved closer to Jinola and I mimicked him by slowly moving toward Hithelyn. Both Kinarin and Vismorda dropped into their respective martial stances in preparation for the battle; Kinarin holding one blade down at his side and the other extended out pointing directly at Vismorda. Vismorda, in contrast to Kinarin, held both of her blades parallel to her midline, hilts almost touching. And then, when their breaths saw a unified exhalation, they both exploded into action.
In my life, short as it may be, I had never seen two beings move so quickly and evenly without pause of lack of fluidity. I had trained with Kinarin and thought I had been able to push him closer to his limit of martial excellence, but after seeing just the first few seconds of their violent engagement, I understood how wrong my estimation had been. The four of us were struck by their complete compliment to where we were unable to move. Vennesulte and I, along with my sisters, were respectively surprised at the excellence both of these combatants were exhibiting. To my amazement, Kinarin was matching the raven haired, bladed death's strikes and slashes as fluidly as she was delivering them. But just when our hopes had begun to grant us the faith that he might prevail, something subtle changed within her, and the strain she was showing on her face dissolved into an expression of calm detachment.
As she pressed him, and he was pressed, I stood in disbelief until I heard Vennesulte yell, "Now Drin! Now is the time to move!"
Before I had fully registered the meaning behind his auditory interruption to my focused concentration on the battle before me, I heard a high-pitched screech and deflected my sister's blade barely in time to prevent it from slicing a deep gash in my flesh and the tissues beneath. Had I not
possessed a greater size and strength, I was not convinced I would have emerged victorious because she met me step for step and strike for strike with speed and agility. I tried to glance to see how both Kinarin and Vennesulte were faring with their respective battles, but my sister was too well trained and too deadly in her intent to allow me even a moment's reprieve. As such, my attention was devoted to two different endeavors. Firstly, I had to remain alive; and secondly, I had to deliver the poison without permanently hurting her.
I remembered watching Hithelyn wielding countless branches with all the poor coordination expected from a young girl untrained in swordsmanship. I witnessed her awkwardly strike at imaginary beast ranging from the simple and mundane to the fantastical creatures imbued with magical abilities. But never, even in my wildest possibilities and extrapolations, did I ever think I would consider my sister as anything but the awkward little girl. But a girl she was no longer. And even less so was she awkward. But my superior size and strength proved to alter the battle enough in my favor that I was able to deliver the poison. Albeit after I had delivered a kick to the side of her face rendering her unconscious, but the poison was delivered nonetheless. Seconds later, I saw Vennesulte also delivering the poison to Jinola. He had her wrapped up in a grappling hold and was pinning her to the ground. Seconds later, her struggling stopped and her body went limp.
I quickly looked back to Kinarin and Vismorda only to witness her apparent supremacy gaining a foothold. Before I could move to assist him, I saw her easily deflect one of his lightning quick strikes, step back slightly, spin and kick him squarely in his gut knocking both the wind and his chance of victory out of reality. He stumbled backward and fell to a single knee, gasping hard. I instinctively stepped to assist him and engage her myself, but he held me frozen with his admonishment, "Go, now! Take your sisters and leave!"
Before I could move, frozen in place by yet another horrible decision I was facing, Vismorda bellowed out a deep and hideous laughter. "Yes. Take your sisters and run. But fear not, my little plaything, I will soon be following."
"Drin," insisted Kinarin through labored breaths, "Take them and leave!"
Seeing my hesitation, Kinarin found his footing and turned to me, "You have them. Do not worry about me! I have a few tricks I have yet to show her," he said. "Now go!"
I did not wait any longer. I turned and hefted my sister onto my shoulders and exited the room. "Do not worry, little pet. I will soon be there to collect you again," said Vismorda as I was about to pass through the doorway. Before I did, I turned back toward them. I saw Vismorda attend to the struggling Kinarin and heard her say, "Now, let us finish this."
"No," said my mentor. "Now it begins," he said as his mouth formed an almost imperceptible grin. I did not witness anything more of their battle, but in my imagination, having met both in the circle of combat, I did not expect Kinarin to emerge victorious. And perhaps this end was fitting for him, to be taken by the darkness he so reluctantly contained inside his longtime wounded soul. As both Vennesulte and I ran down the hallway, all I could hear was his voice as it echoed over and over again, "Death has a price, Drin. And it always comes to collect." Perhaps this was death coming to collect for the many deaths he had been responsible for. Perhaps it was nothing more than him offering his life as a way of redemption by allowing us to live. Perhaps he wanted the last action of his life to result not in the death of his profession, but in the life of his compassion. Either way, it did not matter because at the end of this moment, even if it was just for this moment, he was going to die, and we were going to live.
Lulbrenio
(Illusion)
For the second time in his life, he stood, gripped in the clenching fist of the moment, with his fingers hovering above the handle leading to the next era of his existence, unable to turn the latch that would ultimately lead to the further testing of his purpose and worth. But, unlike the first time, when the door stood before his adolescent body as a threshold to freedom, this door, the door to the assembled war council, his assembled war council, presented as a further indoctrination into the machinations of his lord, Satan. Such as it was, it stood to see his Lord's grip tighten harder around whatever freedom he though he possessed. For the only possession one who served was allowed to have as his own was to be controlled utterly. As such and in spite of, the joy and exuberance of taking The Stone Keep, the undertones of control were never far from his consciousness. So, in this moment, when he was presented with a choice to open that door or stay his hand allowing it to remain closed thereby possessing a portion of himself for himself, he realized he had no choice at all. So, his fingers, slowly descending until they contacted the cool metal of the handle, pushed lightly down with just enough strength to allow the locking mechanism to unlatch. He slowly pushed the door open and confidently crossed the threshold of not just the large room, but the fantasy that he possessed anything apart from what he was allowed to possess. And in that, he possessed nothing at all.
"Lord Jesolin, we eagerly await to update you on our progress with our plans to further our influence into the Silver Empire," said a monotoned voice from the large table, the head of which remained unseated. The man who addressed him was much older and was the only gypsy council member to remain alive after Jesolin's insidious control had been manifest. Gin'ev Innon, the white haired and white bearded elder, had a reputation for ruthlessness well before Jesolin’s influence. Indeed, had the elder gypsy possessed more foresight, enough to correctly determine Jesolin’s true intent, he might have been able to offer some resistance, maybe enough to subvert his actions. It was not long before he was identified as a potential tributary to the rushing river of evil that was Jesolin's endeavor. As such, he was allowed to live. But life was not good enough for Gin'ev. He soon proved his merit and was allowed to partake in the intricacies of pain and hate through Jesolin's training. Though he lacked Mordin's ability and deeply rooted hate, he nevertheless maintained an aura of malevolence that balanced out his lack of power.
As Jesolin silently walked to the head of the table, taking care not to look at any of his gathered Warbringers, as they had been named, he silently gave thanks to Satan for valuing him enough to choose him as his instrument of propagation. The young lord had been absent from his dark meditation for the past few days. As a result, he could feel the anger of his Master's demands slowly growing as a separate gravitational force attempting to draw him closer and closer inside of his own soul, the way a maelstrom on the sea swirls around and around drawing all ships to its center of destruction. Jesolin knew there would be an accounting for his absence, but much had been done, and there was still much more to do. Long has it been since he had pushed the boundaries of Satan's patience. Perhaps he chose to do so now because he had forgotten the excruciating lessons that would follow. As such, he committed to seeking solace within the painfully effervescent pull of the dark liquid soon after the completion of the meeting of his Warbringers.
Gliding into his chair at the head of the table, he placed both of his hands, palms down, on its smooth, marble surface taking a moment to meet the eyes of each of those gathered. There were twelve altogether, including himself; a fitting number, he thought as the number mocked the first twelve gathered against Satan. To his right was Vismorda, his ever present and ever lethal leader of The Ravens. Next to her sat Gin'ev Innon, the gypsy elder turned instrument of dark malevolence who's lethal planning and scheming had proven quite potent, especially in rooting out Jesolin's threats early in his ascension within the gypsies. He was followed by Endonis Lesion, the elven wanderer now corrupted and utterly loyal, then Mein en'Duun, the southern sword master who had recently presented himself for hire, then Grothock Thrin, the dwarven slave trader, then Suony The Serpent, trained by The Guild but rejected when his methods proved to be more brutal than what they would tolerate, then Exein The Dark, a rogue wizard who had left The University ages ago to pursue the darker magics forbidden by The Council then Hurdon Doak, an Ogre shaman who was
sentenced to death after denouncing Ogressin himself then Guoth Mot, the barbarian chieftain and previous enemy of the gypsy clans, then Bractos The Doombringer who's spiral into darkness was profoundly catalyzed by his most recent defeat, and lastly, Mordin The Prime Necron finished the table by sitting directly to Jesolin's left.
"Lord Jesolin," said the monotoned Gin'ev, "we eagerly await your allowance."
Ignoring the once elder, Jesolin closed his eyes and sank deeply into his fountain of endless hate. Only seconds passed to those gathered, but for him, it felt as if his descent into the tangible power of Hell had lasted a lifetime. When immersed in the endless dark fountain of tarlike, black liquid, all things were enhanced exponentially. What was previously impossible to see, he saw. What was impossible to hear, he heard, and what was impossible to comprehend, he comprehended. In this state, he knew everything about those who sat before him; their motivations, inclinations, limitations and potential strengths. And while he felt their devotion still firmly solid, he did sense a growing seed, that if left unattended, would mature into the trees of dissention and disobedience. And that was something he would not allow. So, he spoke.
"Your palpable anticipation of our progressing plans is most pleasing. Yes, we have accomplished what no one else has been able to accomplish. And we will accomplish what none others can even hope to accomplish, but I sense something that could potentially thwart our Master's plans. Because of this, I must ask all of you to join your hate, darkness, and power to mine so we can pull it out by its roots, leaving no trace of the seeds left to grow," he said, opening his eyes as he finished.
It was Gin'ev who spoke next, "Surely, there are none amongst us who would seek to dismantle everything we have achieved thus far. Tell us who and the rest of us will deal with him thoroughly."
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