Assassin's Fall

PROLOGUE A tendril of lightning forked down the dark spring sky, heralding a loud rumble that sounded like a displeased god. Raindrops splashed against the mansion windows in a slow and quiet rhythm which gradually transitioned into a loud and heavy downpour. In contrast, the princess’ quarters were much more silent and warm. The amber candlelight hue entranced her senses in a romantic embrace and the raging storm outside only intensified her excitement. Her body yielded as First Minister Trax laid her on the bed. He gently peeled off her undergarments, his composure betraying nothing about his mounting lust. The princess gasped as Trax sowed diamonds and gemstones all over her body, occasionally planting a soft kiss on her delicate skin. She did not understand the significance of such gestures, for the stones felt cold to the touch, but she enjoyed the thrill. After all, she had given Trax the honor to take her innocence. “I love you, Lianthe,” Trax cooed, hovering above the princess. “I…” the princess said, then her words froze in her throat. Behind Trax’s body, a shadow moved from the ceiling. Lianthe saw a flash of silver, and in that very instant a lot of blood sprayed onto her face. Trax’s motionless body fell on top of her. Lianthe recoiled, unable to comprehend what had taken place. “Trax?” she started. The veil of confusion tore from her vision. Where Trax’s handsome face and curly blonde hair used to be was nothing but a bleeding stump. A few yards away, resting on the floor and staring upward with a dreamy gaze, was Trax’s head. Lianthe wanted to cry out, but her entire body was paralyzed. As she watched helplessly, a tall and lean man who was dressed in black walked over to the head, sheathing his sword and retrieving a large canvas bag. He picked Trax’s head by the hair and shoved it inside. As an afterthought, the man spared a look at Lianthe. His lower face was masked, and his eyes were a cold grey. For a moment, Lianthe’s heart stopped beating, and she could not breathe. Then, without saying a word, the figure walked towards the window. Lightning flashed once more, and the figure was gone. The paralysis thawed from Lianthe’s body. Her thoughts unclouded, and her senses became fully aware of what had happened. She screamed. *** Dale dragged his feet towards the rendezvous point. He had not enjoyed killing Trax, but then again, killing had never stimulated him, even if it applied to those who deserved it. Trax was once a fellow assassin, with a special skill of charm and seduction. He had been tasked by the guild to infiltrate the small kingdom of Zenwald, but in the end the kingdom’s princess had charmed him instead. Abandoning his duty, he had used his special skill to quickly escalate in rank, naively thinking that more security would shield him from the guild’s judgement. Dale had been sent to terminate him. He had asked no questions. With his special skill: shadow motion, he could go anywhere he desired as long as light and shadow existed. Coupled with his swift blade technique, his prowess made him one of the guild’s finest tools. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you hate the hunt,” a female voice said in a thick, Iceland accent. Liandra emerged from the shadows of the forest, offering a cruel smirk as she showed Dale her bounty of two heads. “I terminated two in half the time you took to take one, and I traveled double the distance. If anything, I should be the next Guild Master.” Dale did not respond. He knew Liandra was just baiting him into an argument. Being a descendant of the extinct giant race, the young woman had natural aggression. She stood six and a half feet tall and proud, her body strong and athletic. She even went through painful ordeals to keep that form from getting bulkier. Her brute strength was second to none, and she utilized it by using the longsword for combat. Combined with her agility, she was almost unstoppable. Dale had barely won every match he had sparred with her because of his speed and keen perception. This bothered Liandra, for she knew that if she went all out with her special skill: havoc, she would wreck Dale from flesh to bone. Her ability allowed her to absorb the strength of her foes, using it to reinforce her potential twice or threefold. Every time she got paired with Dale on related missions, she always attempted to start a fight to prove her superiority. “You have grown,” Dale commented. “I am impressed. Not many assassins can take down two first rank targets on their own.” Liandra scowled. She wanted conflict, not pleasantries. She tossed her bag at Dale’s feet. “You’ve grown weaker in contrast,” she said. “I’d let you carry my sword as well but… you’re no longer worthy.” Dale picked the bag and started his way to the guild. Liandra looked at him, hands on her hips. Something was wrong. “What happened to you?” she asked. “You know it was quite strange when they announced that you were going to be the next Guild Master. You left five years ago without saying anything, and now you just come back and resume missions like nothing ever happened?” Dale stopped. He turned to face Liandra. “I came back for my execution, what do you expect?” Liandra raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” “Think of it. When I vanished after that suicide mission, everyone assumed I was dead. Someone wanted it that way. The very instance the guild realized that I was alive, they called me in. They knew hunting me would cost them a lot of good tools, so they planned this.” “I don’t understand…” Liandra started, trying in vain to put two and two together. Though she was more than capable of reasoning, plotting and strategic thinking were not her forte. “You don’t have to,” Dale said dismissively. Liandra’s thoughts conflicted. She would never betray the guild for Dale’s sake, nor for anyone for that matter. But what did she stand for? Before Dale left, she had followed his steps because she believed he was just. He had been the light for her in the dark assassin path, but when he left, she had trodden in many despicable ways. Good or bad, it made no difference to her now. It was Dale’s own fault. Liandra clenched her fists. “If you die then you deserve it. The guild is no place for weaklings.” Dale lifted his head. Liandra braced herself for an attack. She had often simulated how she would respond if Dale fought her seriously. There was a big chance he could deal a fatal blow to her before she perceived his motion, but if she triggered havoc… Dale laughed softly, startling Liandra out of her pose. “You have grown indeed, Liandra. Well said!” Guild Master Zay chewed on his lower lip as he carefully considered his next move on the hotcht board. The game was a modern take on both chess and checkers, consisting of twelve “minions” that evolved into “lords” once they successfully traveled to the enemy’s backline and back to their starting point. Zay boasted two decades of an unbeaten streak, and when it came to rivals, his firstborn was the only opponent that came close to dethroning him. And as it happened, Zay was facing him that night. The time slowly crawled towards midnight, and yet the rain had not abated. Lightning flashed outside, outlining for but a blink of an eye the splendor of New Portbrooke far below. Zay’s black cat jumped from the window sill and gracefully made his way to the heath, no longer interested in watching the rainstorm. “It’s still your move,” instructor Arxes said, offering a smug smile that irritated his opponent. “Patience,” Zay replied. “On the battlefield, speed can get you momentum, but never victory.” “Tsk, your favorite pawn would beg to differ,” Arxes commented. Zay made his move. It was his turn to smile. “That one is an exception, a wild card. You can never predict his moves and motives, and it makes him very dangerous. And when a wounded soldier escapes death once, he no longer fears it but respects it. Such a man makes a powerful ally, or foe.” “I have a hunch he knows what you are up to,” Arxes said, rubbing his shaved jaw. “Do you have any tools to contain him if your plans backfire?” “This one won’t,” Zay said without hesitation. “See, to use a minion effectively, you need to think like a minion, and know its flaws. I know Dale’s weakness, but the real weapon I have is him not knowing that I know. Your move.” Arxes was smart enough to admit defeat when he saw it. He placed the hotcht pieces inside the board and closed it. He stood up and nodded at his father. “I could have stayed longer had you brought some wine,” Arxes said. “Ought to find some sleep, I’ll probably have nightmares of my students dying on the suicide mission you’re going to give them tomorrow.” “There will only be one casualty,” Zay said calmly. Arxes spared a glance at Zay. “And who will that be?” “The giantess Liandra.”