“Are you fit to walk?” she asked him.
“I think so. Where are we going?”
“We need to talk about your next mark,” she said as she stood up.
“Is there not another assassin available, one more qualified than myself?” he asked lying back down.
“Unfortunately, you are the only assassin in our employ with the name Drin Martos. You are quite popular indeed, though I am not sure why. Regardless, this contract is yours and yours alone, Drin. Like it or not, ready for it or not, it is yours,” she said.
“Who am I to kill?” he asked through a deep sigh, heavy with emotion.
Without the slightest bit of emotional betrayal, she said one name, a name she knew would render the young boy paralyzed, “Eriboth.”
“Eriboth!” he said sitting straight up in bed. “The Eriboth?” he asked.
“The same,” she answered.
“How can that be?”
“I do not know, Drin. But it is nevertheless.”
“Can we not just refuse?”
“The contract comes from the High King himself.”
“High King Yahnaros wishes Eriboth dead?”
“No, Drin, not High King Yahnaros. High King Kahl,” she corrected.
“Lord Jesolin Kahl? The Lord of the Blood Keep? He is now High King of The Silver Empire?” he asked, exacerbation lacing his words.
“The same,” she said.
“How did that happen? Was not Pretago Cor unable to defeat his army? He could not have possibly chosen me,” asked Drin in a flurry as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed.
“Easy now. Are you ok to stand? She said moving closer to him making sure he did not fall.
“I just do not understand how Lord Kahl, High King Kahl, would want my help with anything,” he said shaking his head.
“Why do you say that?” asked Nadalize.
“Let us just say it is a long story. One that does not end with me doing anything for him,” said Drin looking up to Nadalize with tears in his eyes.
She walked slowly over to the side of his bed and sat down next to him, “Well, we have a while before you have to get ready to fulfill your contract. Maybe it will be easier if you told me?” she asked.
“I will not help him!” he said, steel in his voice.
“Yes, you will,” she said matching his will. “You will because you are bound by the Oath and the rules of The Guild. If you do not, then you will be the next mark,” she added ominously.
“You cannot make me do this,” he said.
“I can and I will because I must,” she said putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you know why we take an oath? Why we hold it above everything else in our lives?” Sensing his refusal to answer was a silent allowance for her to continue, she did, “We use it to protect ourselves from the crap life throws at us. If we can adhere to just one thing about ourselves, one thing that we can use to define ourselves, then no matter what happens, and no matter how many people we kill, we will never lose all of who we are. Do you understand?”
“No,” he answered, “I do not understand much of anything anymore. I do not know why my father died. I do not know why I had to kill my mother. And I do not know why my sisters have become as evil as he is.” She saw his eyes spill over onto the floor just as he dropped his head supporting it in his hands.
Maintaining her hand’s contact, she began rubbing his back the way a mother might in the moment of one of her children’s great pains, “That is exactly why, Drin Martos; exactly why we hold the Oath’s sacredness above all other things. So, when the cruelty of life thrusts our hearts into the realms of dismay and confusion, we can still function. You will do this, Drin. You will do this because if you do not, you will lose whatever of you is still left inside. And that is something that cannot happen.” When she finished, she stood up and walked toward the door. At its threshold, she turned to him and said, “I will give you till the hour to compose yourself. When that time is up, you will no longer be Drin The Orphan. Nor will you be Drin The Assassin.”
“What will I be?” he asked, unburying his head from his hands and looking up to her with tear-reddened eyes.
“Drin The Enondios,” she said solemnly.
“What does that mean?”
“Godkiller,” she said, briefly meeting his eyes with hers. However, as brief as it was, it seemed to last much further into their understanding of each other. He saw her eyes begin to glisten suggesting a profound sadness. After all, heavy was the burden that could produce tears from The Guild Master. Right before her glistening eyes spilled over onto her cheeks, she turned and briskly left his room.
Godkiller? Likely so if he was successful with his next mark. Eriboth was the closest thing to a god he had heard about, made legendary by his many feats of valor and battle prowess. Sure, he was well aware of the power of the Wizards, some of whom were capable of superhuman feats of impossibility, bending the very fabric of their reality; but it was not stories about wizards and their fantastic magics that were told by mothers and fathers to their children while they rested on their beds preparing for sleep. Nor was it the wizards that every growing boy wanted to be. There were even rumors suggesting Eriboth had returned from the dead.
She was right though. Regardless of the doubts he felt, she was right. He had taken the Oath and he would hold it above all else, but not because he needed it to keep the shreds of his remaining self intact, rather, he would do so because there was nothing else. He had lost those remaining shreds when he saw his sisters ride away with the woman, Vismorda. And any fortitude he had remaining had all been expended when he carried Kinarin over his shoulder only to falter again and fail. Had it not been for the presence of The Guild, though he did not know how they found him, they would probably both be dead, and if not both, then certainly Kinarin.
As he stood, gingerly to test the merit of his stance, he found, though in pain, he was still strong and solid. He dressed in the clothes that were laid out for him, the grey uniform of the assassins of The Guild. It was not lost on him, the magnitude and significance of donning their official uniform. He had asked Kinarin on several occasions when he would be allowed to wear what the assassins wore when he saw them kill the merchant and his guards so long ago, a lifetime ago it seemed. And each time his master replied with, “Only assassins of The Guild wear those. Until your skill equals theirs and you become Drin The Assassin instead of Drin The Farm Boy, you will wear what you have.” Well, the Guild Master herself had named him Drin The Godkiller, and apparently that was sufficient.
The halls of the guild were exactly what he thought they would be, a complete reflection of the efficiency and effectiveness of the most lethal organization known throughout Avendia. There were no tapestries, or paintings, or decorations of any kind. That is not to say there was a lack of funds available to purchase them. On the contrary, the wooden halls and stone floors spoke of impeccable care and quality. Though she did not tell him where they were supposed to meet, he did not have any trouble finding her, or rather, she finding him.
When he entered the main dining hall, which was smaller than what he had envisioned, he saw her cleaning some tables that had recently been vacated. As one would expect from a youth in a strange and unfamiliar place, he grasped at anything he found familiar. So, when they made eye contact, he quickened his steps and approached her. However, before he could say something, she interrupted, “Enondios, the Guild Master awaits your arrival in the planning room. Please meet him there.”
“But,” he said out of confusion.
“He will explain everything when you arrive. Now, do not delay, you do not want to keep him waiting,” she concluded and walked briskly through a swinging door carrying a handful of plates before he could reply.
Not knowing where the planning room was, nor any room to be specific, he was left looking around the hall. He saw another assassin sitting at a table in the corner who had apparently seen Drin’s confusion. “Through there,” said the assas
sin pointing toward a door on the side opposite the door through which Nadalize had walked.
“Thank you,” said Drin.
The door did not lead directly into the planning room, but it did lead him down a short corridor ending at another door through which there was a small room with a large table in the center. On the opposite side wall was a cabinet with many drawers. There were two wooden chairs pushed under the table. Aside from the table, chairs, and the cabinet, the room was empty. Instead of sitting down, perhaps because of the growing amounts of anxious energy building within him, he walked over to the large cabinet and opened one of its drawers. The drawer was about four inches tall and about six inches wide. Inside he saw several small figurines resembling various plants from small shrubs to larger trees. The carvings were incredibly detailed. He had no trouble identifying the different trees the figurines were meant to represent. He saw a large oak, a smaller maple, and even a few pine trees. He was going to open another drawer when his hand was drawn back by several clicking sounds coming from within the cabinet. He instinctively stepped back and dropped into a ready position, more from instinct than any innate danger. After all, he was inside The Guild, and quite possibly, the safest place for him. The clicking quickly stopped for a brief moment, and then he heard a soft whooshing sound as the cabinet swung inward revealing a corridor behind it. Emerging from it was the short frame of the woman he knew as Nadalize.
“I do not understand,” he said.
“My, that is a common theme with you is it not?” she said mockingly.
“Did you not say you were the Guild Master?” he asked, still confused.
“I did, and I am,” she replied.
“The why the deception in the dining hall?” he asked again.
“Drin, in the history of the guild, not only am I the first female Guild Master, but I am also the only Guild Master who was not first a Master Assassin. It would not do well to maintain the order if the rest of them knew who I was and what I am not capable of,” she said chuckling as she finished.
“Then why do Kinarin and I know?”
“Firstly, he helped put me in this position. Secondly, you know because of his affinity for you. Now, let us get into the details of your next mark,” she said as she closed the secret cabinet door. “Please, sit,” she instructed him.
From within her clothes, she produced a scroll tied shut by a black ribbon bearing the mark of the High King. The wax seal had been broken, probably the reason for the tied black ribbon, suggesting Nadalize had previously read its contents. She unrolled it and placed it on the table for Drin to read.
Because of my rather quick and unexpected ascension to High King, something that has surprised me more than anyone else, I will, no doubt, be met with resistance. One of those opposing my reign will be soon in his arrival. It is essential for the continuance of the Silver Empire that he be eliminated. As such, there is only one choice. Eriboth must be killed.
And while an assignment of this severity should be undertaken by only the most experience assassin, there is a certain assassin I would like to perform this task. In fact, the necessity of assigning him is also of great importance to me that it is a requirement of this contract. Please assign this to Drin Martos, alone.
This kill must be carried out in the throne room upon Eriboth’s first entrance. I will leave the manner of his assassination up to you, but know this: The High King cannot be seen to allow assassinations. As such, the details of this contract will be unknown to everyone but myself. I will not interfere with my guards during their relentless pursuit. Successfully complete this contract and you will be rewarded an amount greater than the sum of your contracts for this current year.
High King Jesolin Kahl
“Seems straight forward enough,” said Drin when he finished reading.
“Yes, it does. However, you are not familiar with the layout of the throne room,” she said.
“No, I am not, but I am sure I will have time to familiarize myself with it,” he responded while taking another look at the contract.
“Tell me, how do you initially purpose to complete this mark?” she asked.
He considered for a moment remembering his mark at the Stone Keep, “Well, I imagine it would have to be completed from a distance, near a potential exit, possibly a window. I do not think anyone but Kinarin could infiltrate into the throne room to complete the contract by any other means. That and, if the legends are true, it would be all but impossible to get close enough to Eriboth to use a poison tipped blade,” he said.
“Yes, an arrow shot from a distance would be the most plausible mode if it were not for one thing,” she said.
“What is that?” he asked.
“There are no windows,” she answered.
“That does complicate things,” he said as his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.
*******
He had chosen to mention nothing to Hundolis regarding his encounter with Satan. Though he first became aware of him during Esthinor’s magical probing, and while he had established a rather firm understanding of his power, it was nothing compared to what he felt a few short hours ago while held in the achingly strong grasp of the possessed wizard. If there was anything left of the man named Esthinor, he knew it was only a shell, the smallest of shards, that remained. And though he felt his own power increased through the development of his faith, it was clear to him that Satan’s growth inside Esthinor’s vessel and done so exponentially. However, that was as confrontation he consciously pushed from his mind to focus on the task at hand. He must warn High King Yahnaros regarding his son, Jesolin, and his evil motivations toward all of Avendia in the attempt to marshal the necessary forces to retake the Stone Keep.
His relationship with the High King of the Silver Empire had been tenuous at best. There were several occasions King Yahnaros had called upon him to assist in military actions against the goblins as well as other potential threats. On all but one occasion, Eriboth found himself already assisting any one of the other various nations and races of Avendia. Hence, he was forced to decline, much to the admonishment of the High King. Because Eriboth was a man, and although he was raised by the Elves, King Yahnaros still considered him a citizen of the Silver Empire and bound to the same the laws, edicts, and expectations of any of his other subjects. So, when Eriboth refused his summons, choosing instead to keep his word to his other employers, the High King was understandably vexed.
This strained their relationship for a time. The High King even went so far as to exile Eriboth from the lands of the Silver Empire hoping it would drive him to seek forgiveness. When enough time had passed, and Eriboth had not been seen for a long time (at least his sightings were never reported to the authorities), both sides consented to meet and reconcile their differences. Thus, both sets of needs had been satisfied; Eriboth’s to sustain his own destiny and King Yahnaros’s authority to extend to Eriboth. And while their resulting relationship had all outward appearances of civility, there were still undertones of resentment between both of them. So, when he and Hundolis were met by the High King’s ambassador while they were still an hour away from Pretago Cor, he was understandably surprised.
“Well met!” said the first of the three riders. “You are Eriboth Dordrosis, are you not?”
“Indeed, I am,” he responded.
“And your companion is,” he said, letting the statement trail into a unspoken question.
“This is Hundolis Dramdoel, former guard in King Hinthial’s Royal Army,” he answered.
“We bring salutations and greetings from the High King. He is pleased to welcome you to Pretago Cor,” said the man with a curtly bow.
“I was not aware our journey was of public knowledge? The High King must have extended his paths of information since last I was there?” said Eriboth.
“A great many things have changed recently,” replied the man.
“And your name is?” asked Eriboth.
“Exein. I am the High King’s h
ead Wizard,” he answered.
“I do not remember you. What happened to Horgos?”
“Through a set of unfortunate circumstances, Horgos requested time for himself. He has since retired to his holdings in his home province.”
“He did not return to The University?”
“So taxed had he become, he chose to rest and get well in his home. There is no more soothing place to heal than home.”
“Indeed. We will have to thank High King Yahnaros for his hospitality. I had not anticipated this warm of a welcome.”
“I am afraid you have been mistaken.”
“You were not sent by the High King?”
“We were sent by the High King, but it is no longer Yahnaros.”
Eriboth and Hundolis looked at each other with a very wary glance.
“Then who is it?” asked the young elf.
“Pretago Cor and the entire Silver Empire is now ruled by Lord Jesolin Kahl,” answered the man named Exein.
Eriboth had not thought to extend his sightless sense into the man before, but he did so now. And he found a fluid stream of dark energy the same he had found in his son. True, it was not as powerful, nor as tarnished, but nevertheless, it was still there. Never one for deceptions and illusions, Eriboth said, “Then you know who I am.”
“Indeed, I do,” answered Exein.
“Then you know what I must do,” stated the warrior.
“Indeed, I do. Against my council, High King Kahl has extended his gracious hospitality to you. We have been given charge to escort you the rest of the way to the capital,” said the dark wizard.
“I will have to thank him personally,” said Eriboth.
“You will have that opportunity as soon as we arrive. He will be waiting for you in the throne room. Now, please,” said Exein indicating Eriboth and Hundolis should mount the two riderless horses.
“Eriboth, this is a trap,” said Hundolis under his breath when they were both mounted.
“Yes,” he answered.
“What should we do?”
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