The Writings of Assassination: Book One

by Cameron Style

  It is called a legend for good reason. Seeing that four hundred years have passed and there has not been a blood dragon sighting, those younger do not believe dragons are anything more than fable, and that immortality has since been viewed as a sort of evolutionary trait. Those elder, tell stories of seeing dragons and spread the truth of how immortality came about in the Realm. It is said the blood dragon in Mount Kitum was the last of his kind; that it’s death brought the extinction of a species.

  Some say that the Seven Saints were cowards. Some say they were heroes. Some simply choose to ignore the legend altogether calling it hearsay. Personally, I believe in the story. Connar is a hero to me, for in the end he tried to save both himself and the dragon. In either regard, even outside the Realm in which I reside, none of the Seven Sanctums have seen a dragon in hundreds of years. We are safe.

  II: The Seventh Sanctum

  The land in which I live is known as The Seven Sanctums. Our sanctum, is the seventh. It is now known as simply the Realm, short for the Realm of the Elven. There is one major village in the Realm, and the outskirts are lined with endless seas of green inside the borders. To the west is the third sanctum known as Oakenlich, or as most refer to it, the forest. No one lives in Oakenlich anymore, except a few scattered Mythicals.

  Mythicals were once wood elves, centuries ago, and some still refer to them simply as “elves” though they are of a different breed. They now live amongst the trees in a sacred colony. No one knows how many are left as they keep to themselves. North of Oakenlich is the second sanctum of Winter Strand which borders the Elgon Mountains. I have never seen the mountains; it has always been a dream of mine. Brooding fields of flowers and farm lands make up the first sanctum of Purple Haven. Villages of poverty occupy the fourth sanctum of Dim Eel. Endless plains, dying forests and castle towers line the fifth sanctum of Fangsun. Lastly, vast plains of ravenous wolves and demons inhabit the sixth sanctum of Greywell to the south, bordering the Four East Seas.

  I have never been outside the seventh sanctum, in fact, almost no one has. I have been practicing the art of sword fighting in the woods north of my house for the past several months in anticipation to leave. I want adventure; I seek a life full of riches in stories and experience outside these walls. I unlodge my sword from deep within the tree for the twentieth time and sheath it.

  Heading back to my house I contemplate how soon it will be that I can explore the other six sanctums. I need a horse first, of this I am certain. As I pass the clear, shallow pools that once made a flowing river, I catch my reflection. My skin is pale as snow, glistening. My eyes as piercing blue as the edges of the water. I refresh my face from the pool and continue home.

  ¶“Jaria, where have you been all these hours?” My father greets me.

  “It is none of your concern, father.” I slip the leather sheath from my waist and lay it by the door.

  “What were you taking the sword out again for? How many times have I told you ladies do not carry weapons around the Realm. If someone catches you—"

  “I will tell them I prefer to be a lady who knows how to defend herself.” I quip, cutting him off.

  He gives me a stern look, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

  “Jaria, I'm simply looking out for you. You know what could happen if a guard stops you on the street to question you.”

  “I don't go on the streets, I go in the woods.”

  “Jaria.” My father puts his face in his hands with exasperation.

  “Eraer, I'm fine. I promise you.”

  “You know I hate when you call me by my name.”

  “I'm sorry father. I'm just trying to be safe. I want to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what? Why could you possibly need to know how to wield a sword?”

  “For when I leave the Realm one day.”

  My father rolls his eyes.

  “Jaria, how many times do I have to tell you that you are not leaving?”

  “I'll be the one determining that.”

  “No, my child, I'm afraid you will not.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jaria, it's time you knew the truth about the Realm.”

  “I already know the truth.”

  “No, this is something else.”

  “What then?”

  “Perhaps you'd better sit down.”

  With a heavy sigh I take a seat, and listen.

  “No one has left the seventh sanctum in over four hundred years, aside from the guards who roam the walls.”

  “What are you talking about? I see couriers and merchants come in and out of the gates all the time.”

  “They are from the other six sanctums, not from here. Since the death of the last blood dragon, anyone born in the Realm…has not been permitted to leave it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Even as I heard this, I thought it absolutely preposterous. My father sighs heavily, sensing my frustration.

  “Many have tried to escape over the years, some have succeeded, but not for long. The guards are tenacious outside these walls, Jaria. They will hunt you down.”

  “And do what? Kill me? No one has died in over 400 years.”

  “Exactly. That's why we are not allowed to leave. Leaving will risk one's life. Immortality is not something born into us, Jaria, it is a spell cast over the Realm. If someone leaves, they are prone to attack in one of the other six sanctums, and thus prone to death. If one of us dies in the other six sanctums, the power of immortality for the entire Realm will vanish.”

  “Why am I just now hearing about this? How can this be true?”

  “It is something the Realm doesn’t want you to know.”

  “But why?”

  “Many have attempted leaving over the years, some have escaped, but it risks the immortality of us all. They are afraid the risk of escape will increase and the populous will become unhappy if the truth is shared.”

  “So what happened to the people who escaped?”

  “They were captured and held prisoner in Dragon's Den. Being tortured for the rest of their days.”

  “But what of their families?”

  “There are suspicions, but the Realm has always operated under the notion that those who left, permanently left.”

  “How is it I never knew any of this?”

  “You are too young, my child.”

  “I'm not too young, I'm 187!”

  “Yes, but anyone under 300 is still considered a child. I'm not even meant to know. I do because others have lost family members to the prison and spoken of it in secret. This is why I do not want you to go. You cannot go outside these walls, Jaria. It's far too dangerous. You will only spend eternity in prison.”

  “So these people are just being tortured for the rest of their lives? For trying to explore the other sanctums?”

  “Yes. And you will be too if you try it.”

  “Why doesn't everyone know about this? If you heard it, how haven’t more people?”

  My father shook his head with anguish.

  “Too many questions my child. You must learn to accept the truth for what it is.I have told you what I can.”

  “I want to know more, I want to know why.”

  A knock came rapping at the door, two guards stand outside. My father walks with ease to the door, peering at them from behind the navy curtains on the front door window.

  “Good evening Eraer. Please open the door.”

  He turns the lock, opening the door just enough to see their faces. “Evening, gentlemen. How may I help you?”

  “I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid it's not you with whom we need to speak.”

  My father opens the door wider, the light from their torches casts a deep shadow stretching all the way to my feet.

  “Jaria?” Guard one speaks from behind his black leather mask. He and guard two, in their matching red tunics, are of the same height and build. With their masks on, I can't tell a difference between them.

  “Yes?” I stoo
d.

  “Please, come with us.” Guard one held out his hand.

  My father looks frantically between myself and the guards. “W-what is this about?” He quivered.

  “Nothing to worry about sir, but we must speak to your daughter, in private.” Guard one looks back to me, hand still extended, “Jaria, if you will.”

  I debate the implications of this meeting, and see no other choice than to oblige. Had I done something out in the woods today? I had stayed within the gates. I take a step toward the guards, taking his hand as he led me down the steps to our front door. I briefly look back to my father, whose panic-stricken face shows real terror in the shadow of the flames. I give him the strongest look I can muster, trying to convey I'm fine, and keep walking.

  The guards led me through the winding boroughs of homes, through the black market and past the farms on the north east wall. Are they taking me to Dragon's Den? What business could they possibly have with me in there? Our current Lord, Helwain, has never even met me. In fact, most if not all of the Realm, save the guards, have never seen him. The guards lead me up the steps, placing their torches back in the brackets outside the large castle doors. Two additional guards, in matching black masks and red tunics, stood on either side of the doors. With a simple nod the doors opened. Dragon's Den...I have only heard tales about how it really looks inside, almost no one knows anymore. There are only stories.

  A long emerald runner extended at least twenty yards from the front door to the stone steps of the throne. Three chairs sat upon the throne, the middle of which was dark oak and red velvet, offsetting Lord Helwain's emerald embellished tunic and crown. On either side of his throne were two more dark oak chairs, currently vacant.

  “Ah,” Helwain stands at notice of my entrance. The guards kneel. I look back and forth between the two, unsure of whether or not I was supposed to follow suit. Guard two throws me a harsh look from beneath his mask, and I fumble to kneel. Helwain laughs delicately, waving his hand as he ascends the steps to meet our level.

  “That's not necessary,” he smiles as he approaches me. “Please, stand.”

  The guards exchange glances I rise to my feet, meeting Helwain at perfect eye level. He is shorter than I had heard, or perhaps I am just taller. “Jaria, I presume?”

  I nod, unsure of whether or not speaking is appropriate in the Lord's presence. He smiles once more, “You may speak, please.” My eyes dart to the two guards still kneeling on either side of him.

  “Oh, don't worry about them, they get paid to do this.” I smile nervously, unsure of what to say. “Are you a mute girl? Speak.”

  “I'm sorry, my Lord, I'm just unsure of why I am here."

  “Please, please, call me Helwain.” He bows, taking my hand in his, planting a light kiss.

  A rush of blood floods to my cheeks. A man has not kissed my hand in so long I did not know it was still practiced in the Realm.

  “Would you care to join me?” Helwain opens his arm in a presentation to the room on our right, behind several large stone pillars. There appears to be a large dining table, long enough to seat at least twenty, if not more. The spread on it is unimaginable. Without answering, I walk over to the table. Helwain nods at the guards, signaling their dismissal.

  My eyes scan over the feast in front of me. Can this all really be here? People are skin and bones on the streets, and in here lies a feast for the entire village and only Helwain and I to delve in. Without thinking my fingers pluck a luscious purple grape from a stack on a silver plate and shove it in my mouth. Helwain laughs once more.

  “Please, take a seat, you shall be served whatever you desire.”

  Two chairs, and only two chairs, sit at the table on the far most opposing ends. Licking the juices from my fingers, I take a seat. A crisp white napkin is placed on my lap by a butler, who pours us each a carafe of red wine and begins gathering our plates. Turkey, grapes, green vegetables, decadent nuts and cheeses. My mouth hasn't tasted foods such as these in far too long.

  “So, Jaria,” Helwain began, wiping his chin. I meet his gaze from across the table, placing a forkful of warm turkey between my cracked lips. “Are you pleased with the meal?”

  Mouth full, I nod.

  “You've hardly said a thing since you arrived,” he teases with a bright smile, pushing back his golden locks.

  “My apologies, Lord Helwain. I am easily distracted by such a wonderful meal. I have not eaten like this in many years. Thank you.”

  He nods once with a thin but sincere smile. “It is my pleasure.”

  Swallowing the last bite I can possibly fit into my already exploding stomach, I ease back in the chair. “You have my attention, why am I here?”

  “Ah, and here I thought you'd never ask.” Helwain snaps his fingers. The butler re-appears with a large gray book. By the looks of it, the cover is made of metal. He places the book in front of Helwain and leaves once more.

  “Do you know what this is?” Helwain asks from across the table. I squint my eyes to try and get a better look.

  “No, I can't see it from here.”

  “Come closer then,” Helwain signals me to approach. I rise from my chair and walk the length of the table until I meet him. The covers are made of steel, and encrusted with a blood dragon breathing black smoke, the old symbol of Dragon's Den that the Seven Saints bore on their armor. “I didn't know this symbol was still being used,” I utter, touching the book.

  “Oh yes, anything with this symbol is a royal heirloom.” His hands bear at least nine rings, all gold and gems. “Do you like it?” He asks of the book.

  “Yes, it's quite beautiful...what is it?”

  “This, my dear, is the tale of The Seven Saints.” The answer shocks me. I look back to the book, it is far too many pages to be the legend of The Seven Saints.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This, is the real story of the Seven Saints.”

  “What do you mean the real story?”

  Helwain scoots in his chair, straightening his back. He does not reply.

  “And what does it have to do with me?” I press.

  His hellish green eyes dart back to mine.

  “Jaria, you have been practicing with your sword in the woods as of late, have you not?”

  How did he know about that? “Yes, but always within the borders of the Realm.” Defensiveness edges into my words.

  “I also hear you plan to leave.”

  What was he talking about? Was someone in the room with my father and I earlier?

  “My dear, do you know the truth about the Realm?”

  I shake my head.

  “Tell me what you know.” He pushes the tips of his fingers together forming a steeple with his hands.

  “My father has told me that we are not allowed to leave,” I cautiously begin, watching his face.

  “Go on,” he nods.

  “He told me that we are not allowed to leave because the spell of immortality only holds true when staying within the Realm, and that if one leaves, they are not only at risk but so is the entire Realm.” Helwain purses his think pink lips with impression.

  “Very good, very good. Tell me what else you know.”

  “I know that a human has not died in over four hundred years, and that people have tried to leave since then…” I hesitate before continuing, “However, I am told anyone who attempts to leave the Realm is only met by a fate of lifelong imprisonment and torture here in Dragon's Den.”

  “Where did you hear such a thing?” He cocks his head at me.

  I shrug, not wanting to put my father at further risk. “You hear a lot of things on the streets. People cannot leave, so instead they talk.”

  “I suppose that is true enough.” Helwain stands, placing a heavily ringed finger on the book.

  “What does any of this have to do with me? It is within my right to practice my sword work in the forests of the Realm.”

  “Yes, it is. Would you like to be better?”

  The question st
ops me. “What do you mean by that?”

  Helwain smiles, looking back down at the book. “I hear you are quite good with a sword, better than with a bow. It has been far too long since a woman in the Realm was able to successfully wield a weapon without posing a threat.”

  Though it is meant to come off as a compliment, his words and tone only insult me. “I want you to take this book and read it. Return it to me within one week. In the meantime, keep practicing.” He lifts the book with both hands and holds it out to me. I grasp it’s weighted edges.

  “What if I don't want to come back?”

  Helwain lowers his head with a menacing grin and shakes his blond locks. “My dear, you won't have a choice. Now go.” With another snap of his fingers guards one and two are right back at my side, escorting me out of the castle.

  That night I lie in my bed, basking in the moonlight, looking at the book. I still have not opened it. When I arrived back home earlier my father hugged me as if he thought he was never going to see me again. He asked me what had happened, when I told him, he didn't believe me. He kept going on and on about how someone must have heard that I want to leave the Realm, about how I've been practicing in the woods too much and it was attracting the wrong kind of attention. He told me to be extra cautious from now on. It was all I could do to calm him down and get him to sleep.

  My fingers trace the symbol of the blood dragon, embossed with black smoke. I take a deep breath and carefully peel back the cool steel cover, revealing very old pages. The first of which is detailed with someone's handwriting of quill and ink, “for the dragon” is all it says. I flip to the next page which reveals an index. Then the next, which bears the words “THE LEGEND OF THE SEVEN SAINTS”. The page that follows, “HEREIN LIES THE TRUE TALE OF THE SEVEN SAINTS”. My curiosity is peaked, and I flip the pages.

  Once I reach the end of the legend, which reads word for word to what I know, at least half of the book still remains. The title of the next chapter is “THE WRITINGS OF ASSASSINATION” by Connar Ragstand. Connar...the same Connar? It has to be. The writings go on about how cowardly and disbanded the saints were, how they were nothing that resembled heroes and should never be thought of as such. How some died very soon, and there was no epic battle to be had.