by Jeff Gunzel
Both thighs and shoulders, stomach and chest, all seemed to explode into a bloody mist. Wracked with pain, he dropped to his knees, arms extended out like a scarecrow. Nazzen took in a deep, raspy breath. Unresponsive, his broken body refused to move, his eyes moved up the cloaked frame that approached him, not a wound anywhere and barely breathing heavily at all. How could such a mighty warrior have been so thoroughly beaten?
Azek sheathed his bloody swords and loomed over the helpless man. He took a knee so he could look directly into the doomed killer’s eyes. “Every man who has ever crossed me now rots in the ground,” he whispered, his dark eyes void of all emotion. “What made you think you might be the exception? Regardless of what you believed, you were never my equal.”
“Arkare has eyes and ears in every corner of this forsaken town,” Nazzen sputtered, blood and spit bubbling from his lips with every word. “There are at least another hundred men looking for you as we speak.”
“Then I suppose a hundred men will soon be keeping you company in the afterlife.” With that, Azek drove his elbow into Nazzen’s throat, crushing his windpipe. His arms and legs fluttered briefly, then went limp. A quick, merciful death. Azek sighed when he heard the shouts informing others of his location. Nazzen had been correct on at least one account. Arkare had eyes and ears everywhere, and this violent clash seemed to have drawn them all.
In a blink he was off and running. Crossbow bolts zipped past him as he leapt from roof to roof, but no matter how fast he ran, it was impossible to outrun the numerous calls of alarm. It seemed that every new location he crossed, men were there waiting and ready. Each new turn brought a fresh wave of bolts hurtling towards him. He ducked and dodged, ran and jumped, but sooner or later his luck was going to run out.
Occasionally a few brave men climbed up to the rooftops to try and cut off his escape. A flash of the assassin’s steel was the last thing they saw when he streaked past. He needed to get off these rooftops and find a place to hide until things cooled down.
Deciding it was best to take a chance now, when he approached the next jump, he dropped to his side and slid over the edge. Landing hard but unhurt, he took off down an alleyway. From behind came a sharp whistling sound. He turned fast, blades drawn in an instant. But what he saw was an old familiar face. “Azek, this way,” said Verck, waving him on urgently. He glanced around briefly, then sheathed his blades and ran to his old friend.
Together, the two of them dashed through a rotted old door on the side of an alley, and ended up in a dimly lit room. Verck slammed the door and ran over by the window. Nervously, he peered outside for a long while before he was certain no one had seen them. “You’ve caused quite a stir, old friend,” said Verck. “I must say, I’ve never known you to make so many bad decisions in such a short amount of time. The first of which was coming back to this place.” He glanced over his shoulder and smirked.
“You’ll get no argument from me,” said Azek, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It was only supposed to be one last contract, then I was to walk away from this life. That was the plan. It was all going to be so simple.”
“Since when do you remember anything ever being simple in this town?” asked Verck. “You’re remembering the way things used to be. Everything is different now. Arkare’s ideas regarding the future of the wolves’ lair is completely different than yours. He doesn’t share your vision.”
Satisfied they hadn’t been followed, Verck turned from the window and stared at Azek. “But then again, I don’t share your vision either...old friend.” A ball of ice began to swirl in Azek’s gut as he gazed back. What was that supposed to mean?
A white flash of blinding pain exploded through his head and rattled down his spine. The room spun as the floor seemed to rise up into his face. Disoriented and clinging to consciousness, he caught a glimpse of some squid-like creature looming over him. Verck’s face appeared in his vision standing next to this nightmarish creature. “But don’t get me wrong,” said Verck, his expression somewhere between satisfaction and loathing. “I didn’t agree with Grandol Humbock’s views either. His ideas were nothing short of madness. Just like you, he left me with little choice. Someone had to stop him before he ruined this town. So now you know. I’m the one who slit his throat while he slept.”
Azek let out a weak groan before a large boot came down on his face.
Chapter 7
Anna sat quietly in her chair, watching as her apparent keeper ate at the table. Vegetables, boiled potatoes, and some sort of grilled meat. Not quite the feast Arkare had set out in the other room, but it was certainly plenty more than she had. Ignoring her, he ate loudly, slurping on wine and clanging his silverware.
“What is your name?” she asked the blond-haired man. He glanced at her briefly, his mouth full of food, then continued eating as if she wasn’t there. “Oh, I see,” she continued. “Speaking to the captive must be against the rules. Don’t you find that odd? If a hostage such as me can speak to you, yet you’re not allowed to speak to me, doesn’t that seem as though I have more power than you do?”
He casually slid back his chair with a grinding screech. Still holding his knife, he walked over to her. Grabbing her closed fist, he gave it a harsh twist, forcing a few of her fingers to straighten out. “You wanted my attention. Well, now you have it. Do not forget your place, whore,” he said, running the flat side of his knife along her finger. “If you open your mouth again, we shall see how much pain a dainty little rich girl like yourself can handle. You do remember what Arkare told me, do you not? I would very much like to see those fingers strung along a chain and worn for a necklace.”
It took a supreme effort to force down the terror rising up in her chest. Anna was a smart girl and was used to getting her way, whether it be by family name or her own manipulations. Despite being terrified, she was determined to change this situation somehow. “Of course I heard him,” she replied, regaining some measure of confidence. “And not once did he mention anything about you not being able to talk to me. Since you didn’t respond when I asked you a direct question, I obviously assumed you were not allowed to do so. Forgive me for saying this, but it seems to me that the wolves’ lair is not all that well organized. Too many rules are left up to theory and assumption.”
He flipped the knife around and began pressing the sharp edge into her finger. She winced from the pain as a line of red trickled down across her palm. “I didn’t tell you my name because I have no business with whores,” he said. “But I’m sure Arkare will love to hear your opinion about how he runs things. I haven’t decided yet if I will leave any fingers for him. I suppose it depends on how much fun I’m having.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she added quickly, the pain and pressure on her finger getting worse as the blade bit in. “Do you believe he actually gave you permission to do this, or was he just speaking out of anger? I would suspect he expects you to know the difference between the two.”
The pressure against her finger eased. He gave her an unsure look, then lowered the knife. “His anger was directed at you. I was instructed to—”
“To what? Kill me?” she snapped. “Oh, I’m sure you will enjoy explaining that his golden bounty has died by your hands. Has he provided you with the proper supplies to keep me from bleeding to death after you’ve butchered me? Herbs to ward off infection? What, did you think you were just going to mutilate me without any consequence? It seems you haven’t thought this through.”
He threw the knife against the wall, causing a deep gouge in the wood. “You’re trying to confuse me! The order to remove a prisoner’s fingers is nothing new. We do it all the time!”
“Not a prisoner worth her weight in gold. He was obviously just angry, and trying to scare me. He expected you to recognize the hollow threat for what it was,” Anna replied in a calm, controlled tone. “People do and say things they don’t mean when they become emotional. Do you always throw things at the wall for no reason?” He tried not
to look at the scratch but still flashed a brief glance in that general direction. “Of course you don’t. And I don’t imagine you’re going to run off after him, seeking a thorough explanation of what you can and can’t do to me.” He just stood there wearing a blank expression, wrestling with his own doubts as to how to handle the situation.
“Look,” said Anna, now feeling in complete control. “You don’t want to look like a fool in front of him, and I don’t wish to further anger that madman. So let’s come to an agreement. I won’t be any trouble. That way you aren’t forced to make any choices about how to punish me.”
He sighed, realizing there was really no way out of this. At the very least she was exaggerating, but now there were doubts in his head that couldn’t be ignored. “Alright, I suppose. I don’t seem to have much choice. But if you so much as—”
“I’m not finished yet,” she interrupted. His glare was icy cold, but he remained silent. “I couldn’t help but notice you have plenty to eat, while I’m over here starving. I’m not asking you to cook or anything, just share some of what you have with me. It won’t cost you anything, but it will ensure that I remain silent about our little chat.” Securing the upper hand, she decided it was time to shift tactics and allow him to keep a shred of pride. It might prove useful later.
Grabbing a second plate, he scraped a bit of food onto it, then brought it over and dropped it on her lap. It wasn’t a generous portion, and most of it was all smashed and swirled together. She didn’t complain though, only looked up and smiled.
“Was there anything else?” he grumbled under his breath.
“Yes,” she said, flashing him the warmest smile she could produce. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
Her shift from calculated threats to irresistible charm seemed to be working. After all, thug or not he was still a man. He suddenly seemed to have trouble looking her in the eye. “Jayden,” he mumbled.
“Jayden,” she repeated softly, her warm smile never wavering. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jayden.” With her hands still tied, she managed to pop a cold potato piece into her mouth.
* * *
Azek began to stir. Rolling his head to the side, he let out a soft groan. Through his cloudy consciousness he heard the words, “He’s starting to awaken.” The voice seemed to echo from far away, but even then was still familiar to him. His eyes fluttered and he groaned again as repeated slaps stung his cheeks. “Nap time is over. I think you’ve slept long enough.”
His eyes jetted open. Blurred vision began to clear as the images around him sharpened. The double face before him melted back together, revealing the man who had betrayed him. “You,” he groaned weakly.
“Yes, me,” Verck replied, before blasting him across the face with another solid backhand. With a snarl Azek lunged forward, but his body wouldn’t respond. Layers of tightly bound rope crackled with strain, but didn’t give an inch. A second blast across his other cheek forced him to back into the chair.
“Traitorous dog,” Azek growled, his bared teeth mashing together. “I trusted you like a brother. So, is this how you’ve decided to build your name in this seedy town? Having me jumped from behind somehow carries the glory of victory? Very well then. As I recall, it is my head that is required as proof of your ‘victory.’” He leaned forward as far as the ropes would allow. “Come and take it from me...mighty warrior,” he whispered.
Verck smiled down at the helpless warrior. It was the look of thinly veiled amusement, not one of hostility or anger. “You blame me for your current situation?” said Verck, feigning a hurt look. “You returned to this place by your own will, and in a matter of hours became the most wanted assassin to ever step foot within this town. How exactly is that my fault? How does that make me a traitor?”
“You killed Grandol Humbock in cold blood,” Azek accused. “Your jealousy drove you to kill the man who treated you like a son, and now you plan to do the same to me. But in the end it all makes sense. You were always considered a sniveling coward. Killing a man in his sleep, then another while tied to a chair, should do wonders for your reputation.”
“I admit, I do find a certain level of entertainment in your irrational ramblings, but you still haven’t answered my question,” said Verck, displaying a disturbingly calm demeanor. “One can only be considered a traitor once he betrays the trust of those he is loyal to. Do you really believe I was ever loyal to you?” He paused. “To Grandol, maybe?” he added. “Perhaps you really believe I’ve captured you just to hand your head over to Arkare? Do you think that shiny rock or even the newfound stature amongst a pack of thieves is really that important to one such as myself?”
“It seems to me your betrayal knows no boundaries,” said Azek. He raised an eyebrow when the thought occurred to him. “I am to be sold to the highest bidder?”
Verck’s smile widened. “Ironic, yes? Is that not what you had planned for that poor, innocent girl whom you dragged here against her will?” Azek’s face couldn’t hide the spike of guilt that immediately stung his heart. Of course it was true, but it was only supposed to be one last contract. He never actually wanted to see her get hurt. That hollow thought only intensified the guilt. One last innocent... One hundred last innocents... Was there really any difference? There would always be some reason to crawl back into this seedy business, and there would always be some logical justification for it.
“That would certainly be a fitting end for you,” said Verck, as if he were reading the assassin’s thoughts. “But I assure you that is not why you are here.” He laughed to himself. “Over half the town is looking for you, hoping to bring your head back to Arkare. Hoping that a single act of violence will be enough to permanently raise their statures. Yet here you sit like a helpless rabbit, hidden away from those fools. Oh, of course at some point I will bring you before Arkare, but it won’t be anytime soon.”
“So you plan to torture me first,” said Azek calmly. “A final revenge for whatever it is you think I’ve done to you.”
“And once again you misunderstand my intentions,” said Verck. His demeanor was so calm yet direct. Azek had never seen his old friend so focused before. He was like a different person. “Petty revenge...minor victories...all for the sake of gaining favor with Arkare. I’m afraid you underestimate my ambitions. You always have. I won’t bow down to Arkare any more than I did to Grandol or you. My silent plans have always gone unnoticed, mostly because no one looks in my direction. No one ever notices the termites eating away at a house for years, but when it crumbles to the ground, everyone is shocked. Chipping away at the base of the wolves’ lair took many years of quiet patience, but it may finally be paying off.
“Killing Grandol was only the first step,” Verck continued. “I wasn’t looking to take his place, mind you. It was clear that the mighty Shadow would be asked to fill those shoes, and at the time I embraced the idea. To be blunt, I was sure I could manipulate you into steering the wolves’ lair in the direction I thought was necessary. After all, you were so young and impressionable. Gaining your trust should have proved to be easy enough. On the contrary, you turned out to be wise beyond your years, and nearly as headstrong as Grandol. So again I was forced to bide my time and wait.”
“You realize Arkare runs this town now?” said Azek. “And from what I’ve seen, he rules with an iron fist. A weakling like you isn’t going to overthrow him. None of these mercenaries are going to follow you even if you do kill me. Seems to me whatever plan you think you’ve thrown together is destined to fail, and now you’ve wasted another decade of your life.”
“What did I say about underestimating me?” asked Verck, shaking an accusing finger in Azek’s face. “Yet you are correct in your assessment of Arkare. He uses fear and intimidation as tools of leadership. After you went soft, and decided this life no longer suited you, he became the next most logical choice. Unfortunately, I’ve found he is rather paranoid, and I’m not able to get near him. So I’ve waited patiently for an opportunit
y to arise. It seems that time is now.”
“You’re no warrior,” Azek hissed. “No one would ever take you seriously even if you turn in my head. You’ll forever be known as—”
“An opportunist,” Verck interrupted. “But to your credit, you are getting closer. Again, you are correct. For someone like me to get the recognition I deserve, killing the almighty Azek Lamanton probably won’t be enough. But bringing in the legend with a broken mind so feeble that he can’t even say his own name...just might.” The door to a second room slowly opened. “No one will doubt what my colleague and I are capable of once they witness the mighty Shadow drooling on himself like an infant. So let’s just see how far your mind can be pushed. Yes?”
In walked the creature with a squid-like face. The same face Azek had seen briefly before losing consciousness. Surely a trick of the mind from being struck in the head. Yet here it was, this creature straight from a madman’s nightmare, standing right before him. Tied to his chair, staring at this monstrosity, Azek’s blood turned to ice. His rapid breathing came in short, raspy bursts.
“Ah, I see this is your first encounter with a krackanian,” said Verck, rubbing his hands eagerly. “You don’t see many of his kind anymore. For generations now they have been hunted by humans. Slaughtered out of fear because of their unique abilities. A talent their kind are born with, yet rarely have the opportunity to demonstrate. Today, few remain, but those that do hold prominent positions in renowned factions across Tarmerria. Zool here just happens to be such an individual. Despite his rank, he only has one main duty here, but he does it so very well.”
