by Matt Rogers
Chapter 30: Death and Torment
The Siege (Breathtaking Forest)
Blade’s band moved in with a speed they couldn’t resist. The grapevine was shivering as the Elfin, once again, found themselves in the presence of their most feared foe; the ones who both knew them best and understood them least.
“What do you want?”
They held the Elfin leader, the one named Tweedlewink and were exploring their options.
“We want explosives.”
They could see the defiance in the Elfin’s eyes, saw determination begin to set in and decided to cut it off at the source. They brought in three. They were shivering and scared. It was a good way to begin negotiations.
“We do not require all the explosives, a few will be sufficient. Obey and your kind will remain unharmed. Disobey and they will not.”
With that statement the three were hobbled with scimitar slashes.
“There are many more we already hold, agree to the terms or accept the consequences.”
Tweedlewink looked on with horror as three of his kind lay on the ground, writhing in pain, unable to arise forever without use of their severed hamstrings. His was a gentle race, a bit curious, maybe somewhat intrusive but not made for aggressive defense. They sought mediators, those they could side with in order to live prosperous. Unfortunately for them they were on the border of Nature’s realm, abutted Lawlessness, which diminished their alliances by half.
“What will you use them for?”
The Elvin inwardly smiled. He knew the answer was somewhat on shaky grounds but found it amusing since the intended use was to shake the grounds.
“Do not worry. We will not violate the treaty. The explosives will not be used for warfare.”
The treaty had been constructed for a reason. The Elfin and the Elvin had been its catalyst. The War of Separation the cause. As the two halves chose sides the fighting became intense. In the beginning the Elfin were hopelessly outmatched. At the time they were not so different, Nature was still undecided if they would remain of the same race or go their separate ways. One thing which was decided, though, was the Elvin were prepared for battle while the Elfin for hoping for peace. When they met the Elfin paid a horrendous cost. They were more numerous but in a difficult state. It was then they forged alliances with the Human kingdoms and Elfelvin society split apart.
“Where have they run?”
“Into the caves.”
“Bring me the Elfin leader.”
“At once, My King.”
The Elfin had been in the agricultural trade since the beginning. They were experts in every form of plant, fruit, vegetable, grain, weed and seed. Over time they’d come across a curious aspect during their cultivation process; when certain byproducts were mixed together and a spark sent forward the resulting explosion was a blast to behold.
“You called, King Fault?”
“Yes, I shall need some of your powder again.”
The King sent in his soldiers to bring down the Elvin caverns but another aspect of demolition arose when they were unsuccessful in their attempts.
“The powder doesn’t work.”
“You must place it in areas of weakness. Otherwise the blast will only make marks on the walls.”
The King followed the Elfin’s advice and had mapmakers design specifications for where the powder was to be located.
“Where?”
“Look at the lines.”
“What lines?”
“King Fault’s lines. Do you see those lines on the map?”
“Yes.”
“Those are Fault’s lines. He drew them so we would know the weakest places to put the powder.”
So they did and the caves collapsed leaving the surviving Elvin in a precarious position.
“What do we do?”
“Kill the Elfin. They’re the ones with the secret ingredient to make the powder, if we remove them we remove the threat.”
So the war raged on as Elvin warriors slaughtered Elfin bomb-makers by the thousands. It, of course, led to Elfin reprisals and soon even Mother Nature took notice.
“What are you two doing?”
“We’re at war.”
“You’re exterminating each other.”
They couldn’t deny the charge because they were inflicting unsustainable damages so she sat their leaders down and worked out a compromise.
“No explosives in warfare and, in return, no killing of Elfin.”
They agreed because at the time they had no way to disagree. She held the upper hand because of who she was. If the Elvin reneged she would allow the Elfin to build their bombs, give them to the Humans who would do what they always did with exploding ordinances and cause as much mayhem and destruction as possible. If the Elfin broke the treaty she would eliminate the source of their power by removing the bomb-making ingredients from her list of treasures. The treaty did its purpose and the two races grew apart, infrequently encountering the other. It had never been broken but the Elvin did sparse the words. They didn’t need to kill to get their point across.
“You have one minute to decide.”
Tweedlewink knew his answer but waited till the final second to reply.
“How many do you need?”
Blade again smiled on the inside.
“I don’t know? It is why you are coming with me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will break the pact, kill every Elfin in this forest and you will watch as they bleed .”
Tweedlewink took one look at the Elvin and knew he spoke the truth. He then acceded and Blade left with the Elfin in tow. Blade found it amusing because the true nature of the crime would be committed by one who would be repulsed by the deed. So egregious was the act they were attempting he decided not to mention it to anyone, even others of his kind. The Elfin would be an unwilling, unknowing, unenthusiastic accomplice in the demise of the one creature they placed above all; Mother Nature herself.
As he walked a hint of a smile crossed his face at the thought of what he was accomplishing; having his greatest enemy destroy the very reason they existed. Tweedlewink caught sight of the smile and his trepidation grew. He knew of no Elvin assassin who held the facial expression. He’d heard it was removed from their conscious. It was one of their signature traits; they were devoid of emotion. He thought maybe he’d heard wrong, maybe the stories weren’t based on fact but on wild speculation passed along by others who felt it necessary to embolden their tales. He was wrong on both accounts. Elvin assassins were, indeed, void of emotion but Blade was not exactly an assassin. He was something else altogether, a subset of assassins known to only a few, those who recruited the others, the others known as Infidels.
The name had been chosen by their first leader, an assassin whose identity was never mentioned because none of their identities were mentioned. It was done for a reason; to keep them alive. The Infidels had arisen after the War of Separation. The period was rather boring because they’d grown accustomed to battle. Over time, though, societies moved along and the Elvin were no different. They developed the guild system and constructed avenues for those wishing to perform a particular trade. They could, thus, achieve their dream if they worked hard and showed promise. The Assassins Guild was one. So was the Merchants Guild, the Metalworkers Guild and any others which could be shown to have a particular skillset which was unique. The Assassins Guild therefore began as any other organization and at the top sat the leaders, those chosen to head their particularly dangerous profession, and it was there where the Guild’s guiding principles were formed. It was also where the Infidels sprang to life.
“The Guild is called to order!”
There wasn’t a need for the formality since there were only three but the one who spoke enjoyed the sound of his voice so the others allowed him the privilege.
“The first order of business is to set our priority principle.”
The fact the three got right to the central issue was not surpri
sing. They were experienced killers, after all, and didn’t like to dabble around in nonsense.
“I believe we should follow Death’s lead.”
“I agree.”
“I do not.”
The first Infidel, one of the three who began the Guild, was not opposed to Death herself but to her indifference in how it came about. Death was not a particular type of lady, she did not care how someone died or even where they went after they perished. She only cared they did arrive so she could keep her coffins filled.
“We have been over this. If we choose sides we will be limiting our prospects.”
“If we do not choose sides we will be limiting our possibilities.”
The choice came down to quantity or quality. Death was an everywoman. She held no alliances, preferred no particular species and could care less of gender. She was an everybody person; whoever wished to enter she welcomed with open arms and either six-foot holes or urns of ash. She wasn’t political, religious or even food-particular. It was why two of them wanted her as their guiding principal. With her along any ruler could hire them because all eventually knelt in her presence. The Infidel was of a slightly differing opinion. He felt they should side with a particular version of Death, the side which reveled in bloodlust, vengeance and torture. He wished to ally with one of Death’s two persona’s; Torment.
“If we choose Torment we will reap the darker-half’s bounty. We will become a force to be reckoned with and will someday rule all.”
“But if we choose Torment we could not be hired by those who side with Peace.”
Peace was Death’s other half. It was thought by most to prefer harmony but that was not exactly correct. Peace would accept harmony, sure, but it wasn’t its overriding desire. Peace sought stability. It didn’t care if it came about from a treaty or sword-point. Peace was interested in one thing and one thing alone; inaction. Torment was the opposite.
“If we choose to remain neutral then half the time we will be hired by those wishing to end bloodshed. They will forever be working against us to achieve their aims and we will be sidelined.”
“If we choose Torment then half our potential customers will be off-limits for they cannot hire what they oppose.”
The views were discussed until it became clear the participants could not be swayed. A vote was taken and neutrality won. Their guiding principle would be Death. The Infidel outwardly accepted defeat but inwardly chose another. The next act determined their name.
“Do you sweat fidelity to Death?”
“I do.”
The oath taken was broken before the words uttered. It was necessary. Once fidelity was given to renege was to meet the one reneged upon. Torment was not a deity one wished to displease. The Infidel thus pledged inward fidelity to one then outwardly to another. The first held sway.
“We are now the Assassins Guild.”
The Infidel smiled in secret for he was already contemplating the future. With a subset of assassins working secretly for Torment’s sake, few would gain more benefits than if the entire Guild did the same. He couldn’t say anything outwardly because to do so meant disloyalty which eventually led to Death but first made a stop at Torture. Torture was, of course, a relative of Torment and the Infidels would probably catch a break in its presence but nobody really wanted to test the sympathetic aspect of that particular demi-god. So the first Infidel made a plan. He would seek out those he deemed worthy of becoming a disciple of Torment and have them declare their allegiance before they pledged their oath to Death. Since Death was neutral and Torment a part of her make-up she didn’t take offense because, once again, she didn’t care how they visited only that they came and stayed for a very, very, very long time.
“How much further?” Tweedlewink asked.
The Elvin answered with silence.
Blade had been recruited even before he entered the Guild. He was a natural. His father had been an Infidel and so were previous generations of their lineage. They were so ingrained in the subset of assassins they could not comprehend another viewpoint. From the very beginning he was indoctrinated in the ways of his peoples.
“How shall you deal with ones who displease you?”
“I shall bring disease to ones they love.”
The guiding principle of Infidels was misery brought about by action over a prolonged period of time. The longer the better.
“When do you eliminate the target?”
“After I have taken everything he values.”
The principle was fairly straight-forward but malleable. It had to be. Assassination contracts were generally time-driven. But sometimes a particular brand of killing was asked for. The Guild generally turned down the cases because more profit could be made with the deaths of many as opposed to the time-consuming process of slowly killing the one. After the potential client had been rebuked they would be visited by another, one who would ask specific questions and demand both secrecy and an extraordinarily large amount of money. At that point, once the offer was made the client had no other option than to accept.
“Everything? You want everything I own to do the job?”
“Yes.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you become the target.”
From time to time rumors would spread of a small sect of assassins who were operating outside the guiding principles. Since it was considered a disloyal act the entire Guild would be on alert. When it happened nothing was uttered, no contracts fulfilled and no disciples sought. They were to disappear, become one with the Guild and bide their time. They were amazingly successful at doing so because tormenting others had imbued them with a sense of patience even Father Time would find impressive.
“Stop.”
The command was uttered so softly Tweedlewink almost kept right on moving. He didn’t because while soft the word also held such menace he froze in his tracks. He turned to face the Elvin of nightmares.
“Are we there?”
Again, nothing. Just silence. And then a man appeared out of the brush in front of them.
“Is this the one?” he asked.
“Yes” Blade responded.
The man nodded his head and turned to lead their way into the encampment surrounding Mother Nature’s castle. Tweedlewink didn’t know who the man was but received the impression the gentleman was someone to be avoided, someone to fear, someone to mistrust. As they neared the spot where Nature’s fate would be decided the man turned to the Elvin and smiled.
“Everything is going according to plan.”
“Blight is with my kind?” Blade asked.
“Yes. He believes what I told him.”
And Tweedlewink again shuddered because the same slight look of bemusement crossed the Elvin’s face. It wasn’t readily visible, in fact, it probably wasn’t visible to any other species except those who were once united.
“So the plan remains the same?” Blade inquired.
“Yes, for now.”
And so Tweedlewink was brought into the encampment and ordered to use his explosive knowledge for the benefit of tunnel-digging. He was unaware of its purpose and hopeful it wouldn’t do any lasting harm to Mother Nature’s realm. He was not optimistic. He’d seen something in the Elvin and Human’s interaction which caused his mind to think differently. He’d dealt with all kinds of species and found one trait easily recognizable. It was never shown outwardly but always in the eyes. What he saw was conspiracy. His brain began asking questions.
“Were the Elvin and Human conspiring against Blight?”
“Were they working for Mother Nature?”
“Were they working for their own purposes?”
But most of all it was asking one question over and over again. A question which arose from something he wore around his neck.
“Can Nature’s amulet help?”