Assassin Born (The Dragon Sands Book 1)

by C. K. Rieke

  “Come, sit,” he said, not looking at her, but sipping a warm liquid with gentle, rolling steam coming off it.

  “I’d rather stand,” she said.

  He sighed, and looked up at her slowly.

  “It wasn’t a request,” he said sternly.

  “What was that in here the other day?” she asked. “What are you planning on doing to me here?”

  “If you sit, I will tell you everything, but nothing before you sit down!” he yelled in an angry voice.

  She stood there momentarily. Should I strike now? I’m quick, but the Scaethers are right at my back. This isn’t the right time, I’m not close enough. She went and sat in the chair across from him, but she didn’t pull the chair up to the table, and her feet were planted firmly on the ground, ready to pounce if the time came.

  “Good,” he said, and took another sip of the warm liquid. “I’m sure you’re hungry, we have food coming in soon.”

  “I don’t want your food. You poisoned me,” she said.

  “Yes, that is true. But I assure you there will be no more poison given.”

  “How can I trust you? There’s no reason to trust anything you say.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But let me ask you this— what are you going to do? Not eat? Never drink again? This is your new home for the foreseeable future.”

  “You did something to me, I can’t remember what, but that poison did something to me. Tell me what you did.”

  “There’s that fire again,” he said. “Tell me, Lilaci. What is your purpose in life?”

  She looked at him, not sure what to say. Searching through the thoughts in her mind, there seemed to be empty spots, where seemingly something important to her were placed.

  “Tell me, what do you remember of Sorock?”

  “Sorock— I remember you making me fight those girls. You made me fight Zerashan and Bellaton at the same time, and then Fewn.”

  “Do you remember how those fights ended?” he asked, with as straight of a face as she’d ever seen.

  “I won. I’m still Oncur. Or at least I was.”

  “Yes, and do you remember the next day?” he asked.

  That inner fight sparked again in her stomach. “You made me fight one of the boys.”

  “Do you remember how that fight ended?”

  “I— I won the first bout. Then, the second. I— I was . . . losing. I remember him battering my shield. I was actually afraid . . .”

  “And then what, Lilaci?”

  “Then, I remember—“ Then a searing pain shot through Lilaci’s mind like a lightning strike. She dropped to her knees in anguish, clutching her head with her hands, trying to drive away the pain.

  “What happened, Lilaci?” Veranor stood abruptly, forcing the chair to scoot back on the wooden floor. He walked over and loomed over her then. “What happened?” He said in a gruff, stern voice.

  “I— I don’t know. I can’t remember! Make the pain stop, I can’t think!” She looked up at him, squinting through the pain. “What did you do to me?”

  “I simply moved the . . . distractions away,” he said. “Now you’re free. Free to focus on the things that matter in this life.”

  “You— you monster!” With the agility of a cat, she jumped and placed both feet on the table, grabbing the wooden shard firmly in her hand. Then, she leapt from the table, readying the shard, aiming for his chest, thirsting for the kill. But just as she did so, a bright red light appeared from Veranor, and Lilaci’s limbs felt immeasurably heavy and her mind unfocused, and she seemed to forget where she was. She fell to the wooden floor with a thud, and lay on her side, unable to gather her wits. All she could see was the blurry red light swaying back and forth.

  “What— what are you doing . . . to me?”

  She watched helplessly as her body was frozen in its position, positioned up on the table with the sharp shard held up in her hand.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” he said.

  As hard as she fought it, her body began to move by itself. She climbed down off the table, and sat in the chair softly, and even scooted herself up to the table, with her shoulders back. She tried to speak, but the only words that came out were, “Yes, sir.”

  “Nice, very nice Lilaci.” He strolled over towards her, and her side of the table. “We are going to have a good relationship from this point on.” She looked up as he was spinning something in his hand, something that hung from around his neck. It still had a red glow that made Lilaci feel empty, and weak.

  “I brought you here to train you, and that is what is going to happen. I knew you wouldn’t follow blindly, but with your anger and your skills you are going to become my greatest prize; my greatest weapon.”

  He was soon next to her, and he knelt to meet her at eye-level. “Look at me,” he said, and as much as she fought and strained, she casually looked over at him. His face was only inches from hers, she could smell his breath, and looked at his eyes as they looked into hers, and then he looked down at her mouth.

  “So beautiful you are,” he said, and his face crept another inch closer. “So much power in such a delicate vessel. I’m going to teach you to be the best alive. I’m going to give you to the gods once we are done, and they will show their appreciation to me, so that I may become one of the Vallenen, one of the elite. They would give me power, wealth, and a surname so that I may raise kindred.”

  Do something, fight. Fight him somehow, you can’t just sit here helpless. Fight. Fight. Fight! But Lilaci didn’t fight, speak, or move. She was completely at his will. He knelt there, staring at her in a sort of appreciative admiration. He thought that she would be his release from his servitude. He scanned her face, and her features, and she was helpless as he ran his fingers softly along the side of her face, and turned her head with his fingers on her chin. He leaned in slowly and laid a kiss on her cheek, his lips were scratchy and brittle.

  As he pulled away, she saw the object glowing red that hung from his necklace. The glow had faded to reveal a triangular amulet twirling on a thin strand of leather. In the center of the amulet was a red, circular gem, with a carving of three worms winding around each other. She looked back up into his eyes as he stood back up and looked down at her. He extended an open hand down to her, and she put her hand in his. “Rise,” he said. She stood from her seat and stood next to him, holding his hand.

  “We are going to change these lands. Together Lilaci, you and I are going to change the future.”

  Part III

  The Gift of the Gods

  Chapter Fifteen

  Three years later.

  1443 Sisen Era, The Arr, one hundred-fifty seven miles outside of Voru

  A crescent moon hung in the sky, and thin clouds breezed by it as it cast a faint shadow on the soft sands. Underneath the sharp moon above rest an outpost of rocky grandeur in the middle of the sprawling sands. Not another structure of any sort could be seen within hundreds of miles. The rocky outcrop nestled in between two great dunes, and surely was placed upon a sacred source, another term for a well producing clean water.

  The outpost resembled a small castle, as it were, with high, jutting, rocky walls. It had armored guards roaming along the high walls. They had longbows hung across their shoulders with stuffed quarrels of sharp arrows. There were high structures within the castle as well; four buildings of making stone and mortar, and one tall tower at the center. In the middle of the night, three candles lit the room at the top of the center tower, that’s where he was, that’s where she was going.

  The sands will slow my speed up to the castle from this point, best to flank from the backside, it appears to be harder ground. The guards at the top seem to be clinging to their bows, they will be slow to go after their swords, fools. They banter and laugh with each other as if they haven’t a care. If they knew what was coming they wouldn’t be so. I could slip past them and take my mark, but what would be the fun in that? They’ve aligned themselves with a heretic, the Arr has no use
for them.

  Looking up at the high walls as she crept around the backside of the castle, she heard a new voice, and the other laughing and balking ceased.

  “Look at ya, lazy pigs! On alert, you’ve got a job to do,” said the voice. She looked up to get a look at the man, he was stout, but she instantly recognized by his posture and stature he knew how to fight. He was heavily armored with a double-sided ax and a battle-worn iron-laden shield. Her lip curled and she continued slinking through the shadows.

  She waited for his voice to move further from her as he walked the walls, and she found her moment and scampered across the hard rock at the backside of the castle. She moved like a soft breeze on water, her footsteps as silent as a spider on silk. Her strong, thin fingers found grip holds easily on the rocky wall, and she was soon peeking up over the wall at the soldiers, now more alert, but unfocused and aware of their present danger.

  With her dark, thin hood and cloak over her, she made her way over the wall and became one with the shadow. She moved through it, and used its power to find the greatest power of the assassin: invisibility. Moving silently, she made her way along the wall, creeping up behind a guard holding his bow. She clicked her fingernail gently on the wall next to him, and as he turned, she drove her long dagger into his side, piercing his soft flesh and finding its tip into his heart. With her other hand she covered his mouth. He fell limp almost instantly, and she laid him in the shadow.

  She crept along the wall taking the life of another in the same fashion, and laid him into the shadows. Another fell just the same, then another, and another.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this night,” the man with the ax said, meaning to let the others hear him, but he didn’t yet know he was alone along the walls. “That moon is giving me a stir in my gut.”

  “That’s not the moon,” she said, and drove her sharp sword through the backside of his stomach. Its tip gleamed white under the moonlight, spattered in fresh blood.

  “What—?” he tried to reply, but found a dagger slice his throat before he would ever utter another word. She threw his body over the brown rock wall, and he landed with a soft thud into the deep sand below. She’d become one with the shadow yet again.

  Maneuvering through the castle’s streets, she heard the breathing and even snoring of those sleeping within the walls of the dwellings. It crossed her mind to enter and kill all within the castle’s walls, but she heard a soft mumbling within one of the small dwellings. It was in a kind, soft voice, it was a child. A young boy was talking in his sleep. The words were gibberish in his young sleep. She had no problem killing the boy’s parents, but the boy was too be left alive, that was the code.

  The thought of entering the dwelling crossed her mind, but a part of her decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and continued on. Her target was the high window with the three flickering candles.

  Sneaking through the shadows of the alleys below the towers, she let her callused fingertips glide along the dirt-laden walls of the building and small clay and rock dwellings leading up to the highest tower. Turning a corner, she spotted a single guard at the entrance, he had a sword laid across his lap, and his head was bobbing as he fought the oncoming sleep.

  The entrance to the tower was a well-lit courtyard with potted plants rustling in the soft breeze, at its center was a well-carved round fountain with a statue of a dragon, the same height as a grown man, with its wings wrapped around it as if it was twirling up into the sky. Its maw was open and its teeth were long and jagged.

  “Pagan heretic,” she whispered to herself.

  Creeping around the courtyard, she made her way over to the slumbering guard, and with her hands quickly on both sides of his head, she twisted them. He slumped to the ground, he never knew what hit him. She gathered his keys and slid the iron skeleton key into the thick wooden door’s keyhole, turned it with a soft click, and slunk into the tower.

  The interior was dark and musty, but the darkness didn’t deter her, it strengthened her. She slowed her breathing and listened, she was listening for the patter of footsteps, or the hard breathing of sleep, or the occasional moans of ecstasy. She only heard the subtle creaking of wooden beams bracing the rocky structure.

  He must be the only one home.

  She put one foot on the winding stone staircase that led to the top of the tower, and like a cat, ran up the stairs without a sound. Finding herself at the top of the tower, and at a single door with an iron gate, and another thick wooden door on the backside of it. She slid another iron key into the gate. It unlatched with a dull pop, but before she opened the gate, she produced a small vial from her pouch strapped tightly to her thigh.

  Holding the vial up, it contained a viscous dark liquid. She uncorked the small vial and dipped a thin brush into it, coating its bristles. She rubbed the dark liquid onto the joints and hinges of the iron gate, and with her other hand she eased it open, making small back and forth motions to let the liquid seep it. Once she was satisfied the gate was well lubricated, she opened it fully, and slid another iron key, this one much more elaborate, into the last wooden door, and let the latch pop open. She slid the door open just enough for her to squeeze through into the room with the three candles; into the room of her prey.

  The shadows weren’t needed then. She heard the slumbering sounds of them, fast asleep. She stood up tall and removed the hood from over her head. Her dark, long, silky hair fell to her back and she drew out her dagger, which glowed gold from the light of the candles. She recognized the man in the bed as her target, but she didn’t recognize either of the two women who laid next to him.

  Her hand made its way over above the head of the man, with a flick of her middle finger, tapped his head. He rustled in his sleep, annoying, so she did it again. This time harder. His eyes slowly opened, but shot open wide once he saw her face. Her hand covered his mouth and his eyes glazed over in terror.

  She shook her head, and he nodded, seemingly understanding not to make a sound. Removing her hand slowly, he didn’t move a muscle, but began to sweat. “I knew this day would come, but finally here, now, looking into the eyes of one of your kind, I finally see the evil you truly are,” he said.

  “Well, take a good look while you can,” she said.

  One of the women stirred next to him, and opened her eyes to see the woman standing over the bed with a dagger twirling in her hand.

  She gasped but the man quieted her with a shushing sound. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, and she scooted back into the bed. The other woman awoke, she was nude, and the man did his best to reassure her as well.

  “You know why I’ve come then?”

  “Yes, you don’t know what it’s like to run from the gods,” he said. “They must treat you well to serve them like you do.”

  She stood there unwavering and didn’t answer. The gods have given me everything— purpose, pleasure, power.

  “Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind how forcefully they rule? How oppressed the people have become? Their enslavement? Their greed? Their lust for absolute power?”

  She glared into his eyes and didn’t respond.

  “There is another way. There’s a way to defeat them, if you’ll just let me explain. The prophecy, the prophecy tells of our salvation. We can be free again. Just hold on, hold on a couple of minutes, and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything . . .”

  “You can tell it to the gods themselves,” she said. “Where you’re going, there won’t be anyone else to talk to.”

  “No! Please, no!” he yelled out, and the girls began to scream and claw themselves out of the bed, but they didn’t make it.

  With a flash of metal, they were both cut down, and their limbs lay awkwardly across the soft, green satin sheets, blood-soaked from the cut wounds. The man made it out of the bed and stumbled across the bare floor on his hands and knees, trying to make it to a sword at a table across the room.

  “You shouldn’t keep your sword so far from reach, when you’re a
traitor to the gods,” she said as she walked slowly over to him.

  “Traitor to the gods?” he barked. “They are traitors of the people, have they never wronged you? Haven’t you seen the enslavement? The misery? We deserve a better life, and I can—”

  She grew tired of the man’s ramblings and blasphemy, and she drove her sword into the man’s chest and heart. His wide eyes looked into hers, and soon rolled back into his head. She reached down to find a thin strand of string hanging around his neck, and pulled up on it to reveal a white stone pendant from underneath his shirt. She clasped it in her hand, and ripped it from his neck. Pulling her sword from him, he fell to the ground, onto his chest. She wiped the blood from her sword onto the back of his shirt.

  As she walked over to the wooden door and iron gate, she stopped, and looked over at the three candles rustling in the wind by the open window in the high tower. She turned and walked over to them, and looking into the dancing light, she smirked, knelt down, and blew them out. Darkness filled the tower as all its light had been extinguished.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She arrived back in Voru three days later. Sleeping under the vast, bright stars and walking the sands each day for ten hours, she finally saw the sharp tops of the Castle of Erodoran. Its tips glimmered gold as the warm sunlight washed down upon the sprawling city. From far in the sands the city first appeared to be a mountain range in the dancing heat, as it waved back and forth. But once the towers of Erodoran came into view, Lilaci always felt a sense of relief for the vast deposits of water, but an instinctual dread she couldn’t describe.