Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  Still, this wasn't his fight, and it wasn't in the man's character to go out of his way, especially if it meant he might miss the first fight of the war, to help a friend. Nim had to consider the fact that there were probably other reasons for the man's assistance. Did someone order him to keep an eye on me? Maybe it's a political favor, but for who? A small voice in his head suggested that maybe the man had liked the girls, and he was here for the same reasons that Nim and Victor were... The cynical part that controlled the rest of his mind quickly through the idea out. It could be that he just didn't like having a guild of assassins working under his nose, willing to strike at the manor of one of the King's advisers. I suppose it doesn't really matter why he came, I'm just glad he's here.

  Had anyone seen the two men work their way through the bottom floor of the guild they might have described the actions of the men as poetry in motion. It was a dark poetry, filled with silence, blood, and death, but there were no wasted movements to their actions. The only sounds that intruded upon this silence were the intake of air right before someone is about to call an alarm, the sound of one of Nim's daggers slicing through the air before taking out the targets jugular(and usually a second to the heart for good measure), and the last breath escaping from the lips of the dying.

  Nim knew that Zander was most well known for the amazingly destructive forces that he could shape together on the battlefield, and for most that would be a reason to respect the man. The Knights however seemed to respect the man for his combat prowess, preferring to regale their comrades with stories of his many splendid victories with nothing but his bare hands. Ignoring the fact that just as much energy was used making his body into a killing machine as would be used in a usually more useful explosion, but that's a soldier for you. Nim had gone to watch Zander give hand to hand lessons to the troops on many a fine afternoon, his pleasure or dissatisfaction only apparent to those who recognize each little tick in his face as a carefully controlled emotion. When not in combat or training, Zander was a fairly agreeable fellow who smiled regularly, but once he became serious it was very difficult to break his calm demeanor. There were occasional moments, during real fights, that Nim had seen those rigid features twist into an almost feral grin however, and that was usually very bad news for whomever Zander was dealing with at the time. Watching his old companion now however, there was no smile. Here was Zander Halcyon, Battlesorcerer of the Protectorate, doing his duty to the crown by snapping the necks of a few rats that had somehow infested his city, with about as much effort as most men would snap a chicken bone.

  There had been more men sleeping than Nim thought their should have been. If the guild master had studied Nim at all, he should have expected a measured response. Nim had heard about the leader of this particular guild, not by name, but by an overlap in business, and by reputation. He had stolen more than a few contracts from Nim over the years, and may even have been responsible for several chance meetings with unfriendly fellows over the years. All of which bothered Nim little, he understood that it was just business, but this time was different. This time it was personal.

  Ahh.... Nim suddenly realized why the Guild Master was not expecting an attack. It's because he assumed all of his assassins would have committed suicide before they could be tortured for information. Nim grinned at the man's stupidity.

  Still, he knew that no man who could rise through the ranks of assassins, in a city like Safeharbor, could be an easy target. Moving through the kitchen, he realized that it had been much too easy. Looking over at Zander he found himself meeting his friends eyes. Zander lifted an eyebrow, and then looked towards the ceiling, obviously having had the same thought that Nim had. They will be waiting for us on the second floor. Nim nodded, and then tipped his head to the side indicating that he was going to check out the last of the rooms on this floor before they proceeded upstairs.

  Opening the door, ready to throw a dagger if needed, Nim found himself face to face with... the pantry. His mind recognizing no threat his first thought was to how well organized the space was. Well, the master of the kitchen has an orderly mind at least. Looking around he found a bag of flour, half used, that he thought might come in handy upstairs. As Nim exited the pantry he saw Zander begin to shrink back down to his normal size, his muscles regaining their natural form instead of the bulging corded muscles that reminded Nim of Adrian Theromvore. Nim thought that now that Zander's warrior transformation had worn off, or the man had more than likely canceled it, the man was more dangerous than ever to whomever was upstairs. Though his warrior form gave him increased strength and constitution, it made it more difficult to do any quick shaping. Now he would be able to bring forth his many battle spells with a thought.

  Retracing their steps, making sure that they had not missed anyone and that no one had yet stumbled upon the ample evidence of intrusion, both men stopped stopped at the bottom of the stairs preparing for what they both felt was coming.

  “Where's Victor?” Zander whispered, leaning in so that he was only a hairsbreadth from Nim's ear.

  “He's around here somewhere.” Nim replied just as quietly. “If I know the lad he's probably found a golden treasure or killed everyone just to prove he's a better model than us old farts.”

  Both men had spent time with Victor, and it usually didn't take long with the boy before you felt like you should follow him, or stab him on principle. For the two men, Victor was a spotlight on their youths, reminding them of what it was like to grow up in a land like Terroval. Things were usually a little easier in the cities, but Terroval was a harsh land, and it fostered a harsh people. Only the strong would survive to see that sunrise each morning. Whatever other thoughts they had about the boy they each kept them to themselves, it was apparent that both of them had a healthy respect for the boy, and that was more important to each than anything that could have been said.

  “Shall we continue.” Nim stated more than asked.

  “Yes, of course, let me find out where the boy is first.” Zander closed his eyes, connecting with the billions of molecules in the area, trying to locate Victor's unique pattern. Locating the boy somewhere above them, Zander constructed a corridor of molecules so that he could send a signal directly to Victor's brain. Victor where are you?

  On the roof, playin' around. Came Victor's reply.

  “It appears the lad is on the roof. He says he's playing around.” Zander mused.

  Nim groaned. “That could mean anything. I suppose we better get up there.”

  As the two men began to move silently up the stairs, the twin doors near the top opened, making both of them stop cold in their tracks, their bodies ready for fight or flight.

  “Ah, guests, won't you come in.”

  Zander crooked an eyebrow at Nim who simply shrugged and continued his trip up the stairs, one hand behind his back. Zander was only a step behind as he began to pull in potential particles, preparing them to accept his will at a moments notice.

  Nearing the top of the stairs Nim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the room came into view. The walls were a dark red, and there was gold on every surface. They might as well have hung a sign that says Evil Lair here. There were three men visible inside the room. Two men in robes stood beside the desk, while the third sat comfortably behind the desk.

  The man on Nim's right had a shaved head, a gaunt face, and wore loose fitting robes the color of blood. Blood Mage, or some fool pretending to be one either way, he'll be the first to die.

  The man opposite the Mage was a sickly looking fellow in black robes holding a crystal bowl in his hand. He seemed transfixed upon the bowl and didn't seem to care that two men stood at the threshold of the room. I'll bet he's a priest of Thom. He could be more dangerous than the Mage.

  The man that sat behind the desk was perhaps more than likely the most dangerous man in the room. Well, on that side of the room at least. No longer a young man, he wore all the signs of a hard fought life, and his face was beginning show signs of his age. H
is bare arms made it quickly apparent that he had not been lax in his physical training however. The man's muscles were toned to a degree that is usually saved for a dancer, or an acrobat. His body and face carried the scars of many battles, and part of his left ear was missing, most likely from the same cut that nearly took his eye. His hair was graying and appeared to be set back into a ponytail. This was a warrior of a very specialized sort, an assassin, bred for one thing, killing.

  “Welcome gentlemen.” The assassin said, his voice almost believably cheery. “To what do I owe this unexpected intrusion upon my home and place of business?”

  Always ready to entertain Nim took on the same mock cheerful tone and replied. “Well, it appears that you may have displaced a few of those in your employ last night. I just wanted to let you know that they have decided that they can no longer be in your service, or the service of anyone else as a matter of fact.” Nim grin grew into a smirk by the second line.

  “Ah, so it was you who disposed of my men. I knew I should have been more strict in their training, a mistake I will not make again. Am I to assume than that I speak with the illustrious Nim Mithriannil?”

  Nim performed a flowery bow, taking the opportunity to unsheathe the dagger from his left wrist, yet still hidden from sight. “That is what some call me yes, but you may refer to me as vengeance.” At this the man in black robes raised his head, his eyes went wide and he dropped the bowl he had been holding, its contents spilling to the floor.

  “Zander Halcyon!” The Priest said as the words were being strangled out of him.

  The assassin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the blood Mage's gaunt features turned white before he was able to school his emotions.

  “So then, I warrant a trip from the hand of Retribution? Does that mean that the hand of Justice is also near?” The Assassin's calm demeanor did nothing to betray the worry that was gnawing at his gut.

  Nim shook his head. “He is off training a new hand of justice for a new Lord of Vengeance. My title will soon be passed to one more suited to the job. I am however surprised that a priest in your company would know of us. Did you serve with the Knights Priest?”

  The priest of Thom nodded dumbly obviously affected by the presence of Nim and Zander. Unlike his companions he had neither the willpower nor the self confidence to hide his emotions.

  “A pity, so I am to assume that you yourself have an apprentice. That must be the boy that my men were hired to take care of. I am thinking that was not our clients motive at all though. Sending Assassins after you has never brought your wrath down upon any of the other guilds before however, so what is different about this occasion? I know they did not kill the boy or you would not have said he would soon replace you. “

  “No, they didn't kill the boy. They did however kill a young woman that was in my employ and under my protection. She was too young to die, and your time has just run out.” As Nim was preparing to let loose his dagger a loud crashing sound came from overhead, causing everyone in the room to pause and look up.

  “Ah, it appears that you did not get all of my men Mithriannil. That is my Armory, and even now they are preparing for your destruction.” The leader of the Assassins stood quiet and collected in front of them before Zander broke out in laughter. “What are you laughing about Halcyon?”

  “Well for one that you think that any of your men or your toy Mage there can handle me, let alone Nim. While you and your men were here in the shadows developing your skills against each other and your marks he and I were on the field. Have you ever faced a Dracair assassin? No? How about a warrior? No? Well if you haven't fought either of those I doubt you have ever faced one of their Magnus Dracani. Secondly, that isn't any of your men above us.” As if to punctuate his statement a trap door opened in roof in the middle of the room. A small form dropped from the hole and two projectiles left its hands before landing softly on the soles of his feet.

  The Assassin who had survived on the streets of Safeharbor for all these years couldn't help the look of surprise as a dagger stuck into the wall beside his head, and another sprouted from his shoulder. “Get them!” He ordered, his voice betraying his incredulity, as he stood and flung two of his daggers at the intruders.

  “I am sorry Lyonel, but these two men have done more for Thom than any others in existence, except perhaps for the Left hand of Vengeance.” The Priest began speaking as the Mage began to release the energy he had been restraining, by the time he finished his sentence the fight was over.

  Zander had been prepared for the Mage, and clicked the last portion of his shaping into place as the Mage finished his own. It only took moments for the Blood Mage to realize his folly as he released his spell. The fireball impacted an invisible shield that Zander had built around the Mage. As the energy of the fireball was released, the shield began to absorb and refocus that energy into new smaller fireballs, creating a chain reaction inside the shield that was inescapable.

  Victor was the first to grab the incoming projectile, immediately reversing it's trajectory in one fluid movement sending it back towards the Grand Master of the Assassins. As he did this he pulled two more daggers quickly and flung them towards the man. Those three daggers were quickly joined by two more as Nim threw his own before spinning, grabbing and throwing the other dagger that the Grand Master had thrown.

  The Grand Master had lived a long life, and was one of the few men who might have been able to live through such a barrage, however he had been so surprised when Victor, a small child, had grabbed his dagger from mid air and sent it back at him that he was only able to stop two of the blades and dodge another. That left three blades that tore deeply into his body. One of which was his own which had been coated in an especially virulent poison.

  “That's… not right.” The Grand Master of Assassins said, he could feel the poison seeping into his leg, in less than a minute he would lose all motor control.

  “I have a message from Lia Swiftstar.” Victor said as he approached the man who had taken his friends life with one order.

  “What's the message boy.” The assassin was using all of his willpower to remain standing as the poison spread throughout is body. The screams of the Blood Mage had finally died out as the fires within Zander's shield consumed everything within. The shield amplified whatever shaping it touched, so the Mage would burn indefinitely in his own magical flames, not that there was much left to burn.

  “You have taken the life of someone dear to me.” He continued to stalk towards the Grand Master, his Visage calm. “You have made attempts upon the lives of my friends.” No longer able to contain the rage bubbling up inside him his voice became louder and his expression grew harder. “For this, your life is forfeit. For this I send my messenger.”

  “And who is her messenger boy. By what name should I call you as I curse your soul from the netherworld?”

  “I am Vengeance.” He pulled one of his daggers. “I am Pain.” His hand slid down towards his boot from which he pulled another. “I am Justice.” In one fluid motion he rolled onto the desk and slammed into the assassin stabbing with both daggers. “I am Death.” He said coldly as the two overturned the chair, and landed in a heap.

  Nim allowed Victor to do this because he knew that if he didn't that the boy would feel robbed of the revenge that he wanted for his friends death. He also knew, that like all such revenge, it would be a hollow victory. It was however better that Victor learn it now instead of later. He looked around the room and his gaze fell upon the priest who was now kneeling in the corner praying.

  “So priest what do we do with you?” Nim said walking over to the man.

  “Do as you will Mithriannil. My life is in the service of death. You have made my master very happy this night.” He rose slowly and walked towards Nim. When he was close enough he whispered. “His champion is turning out nicely. Our master is very pleased.”

  “I am no servant of Thom!” Nim said disgustedly.

  “Ah, but that is where you are w
rong Mithriannil. You are one of his better servants whether you know it or not. You will have a place of honor in the next life.” He continued in the same whispering tone. “You who has aided in the training of his champion. You who is Vengeance incarnate. You who has yet to complete your role in the molding of the champion into a weapon of death.” The end of the priests statement was through a gurgling mouth as the blade sliced through his throat.

  “What was that for?” Zander asked as he walked up behind Nim who was cleaning his blade.

  “He talked too much.” Nim said flatly giving Zander a look that said he would tell him more later.

  “Ah, that he did.” Zander said as he turned towards where Victor knelt on the desk looking over the man who had been the Grand Master of this guild. He sat in his chair, four daggers sticking out of him, and a look of confusion frozen on his face. “The man was a bit overconfident in his skills.”

  “No, he was just a fool.”

  Zander nodded, moving over to the shield he had erected around the Mage and began the process of unmaking it, careful to direct the energy contained within towards other sources.

  Nim walked over to Victor and lifted him from the desk and set him on his feet. “Wasn't quite what you thought it'd be was it?”

  Victor wiped his eyes. “No, it wasn't. Megan is still dead, and nothing we have done here tonight has made it any better has it?”

  “That's where you're wrong. We have made it so they cannot do something like this to anyone else. We need to get home and go to bed though. If we don't join the armies they may fall apart from grief.” He said with a smile and a wink.

  That was one of the things that Zander liked about Nim, even among all of this death he would still be trying to make his friends laugh. Perhaps it was morbid to laugh after such violence, but it was also cathartic. He couldn't help but add. “Aye, if we leave Cantel and the Theromvores at it they'll either end up dead or take all the fun.” Both men looked towards Victor. “Tomorrow afternoon your real training will begin.”