The Assassins: Forged In Blood

by Goran Zidar

  THE ASSASSINS

  FORGED IN BLOOD

  * * *

  GORAN ZIDAR

  Acknowledgements

  They say that a writer's work is solitary and while that may be true no writer works in a vacuum. This story exists because of the advice, support, talent and patience of a great many people over a great length of time.

  First and foremost I would like to thank my family for their understanding and patience as I spent countless hours hidden away to get this work done. Secondly I want to thank Tim for coming up with the concept for this story. Without his imagination and assistance The Assassins may never have come to be. I would also like to thank Pete, Phil, Marina, Jason and Adam who helped give voice to the world that Tim created.

  If writing reveals the art and editing reveals the artist (to paraphrase Michael Lee) I want also to thank Ciara for her advice on cutting away the fluff which I hope has allowed this story to transcend my clumsy words.

  And last but not least thanks must go to Kevin who's cartography skills rock and because every fantasy world should have a killer map.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements

  Area Map

  Chapter 1: That Which Does Not Kill Us

  Chapter 2: Honour Among Thieves

  Chapter 3: The Great Outdoors

  Chapter 4: It Favours The Bold

  Chapter 5: A Debt Repaid

  Chapter 6: Darkness

  Credits

  Chapter 1: That Which Does Not Kill Us

  “Blood is the ink in which we write our story.”

  - Marque de’Ahb, Grandfather of Assassins

  Late Spring – Year 2118 SA

  Somewhere in the Zeragoth Empire

  The tortured scream rang through the damp dungeon. It reverberated through the tiny cells, reminding each occupant that death was the only escape. Tallow shut his eyes against the pain that told him he was still alive.

  He hadn’t seen Greythorne since the ambush, but Tallow hoped that he was alive. He imagined that his more experienced partner somehow avoided capture, and was on his way to rescue him. It was a childish fantasy, of course. Tallow had seen Greythorne fall with his own eyes. It was far more likely that they were both being subjected to the same torment.

  The Family trained all of its children to resist torture. Right now that resilience was as a curse. It extended his suffering. Yet Tallow remained silent. Despite the agonies inflicted upon him, he refused to betray the secrets he had sworn to keep. He knew he might die here. But he would do so without providing his captors with one scrap of information.

  Tallow had no idea who they were, or what they wanted with the information they were trying to torture out of him. He told them nothing, refusing to answer even the most innocent-seeming questions. The only reward was long hours of pain. His agonised screams echoed in his mind, and he fervently hoped his suffering wasn’t in vain. Life was reduced to periods of silent prayer and meditation, interspersed with sessions of agony. They kept him awake when he was exhausted, and there was never enough to eat.

  The dead were the lucky ones.

  The door to his cell slammed open, the bright glow of a lantern blinding him. Two guards stepped in and hauled Tallow to his feet. A third man, who carried the lantern, examined his face. Satisfied, he nodded. Tallow hung limply, allowing them to half-drag, half-carry him out of the room.

  They moved in a bubble of lantern light, the tunnels passing in a featureless blur of grey shadow. A tantalising hint of something merely dreamed touched his nose.

  Fresh air.

  He breathed deeply, desperate for another whiff. His captors propelled him forward, and into the night.

  Outside.

  He was outside. He dragged in another lungful of cold, clean air. The guards, unusually gentle, led him into a building. Intrigued, he cooperated, but the pain from his burned feet made every step an ordeal and the guards were forced to help him up a circular flight of stairs. They stopped before a solid wooden door. The lantern-bearer produced a key and unlocked the door. The room beyond was a bedroom; furnished with a large comfortable-looking bed and a small wooden table. A single shuttered window adorned one wall, and opposite that a fire crackled in a large hearth. The lantern-bearer motioned for the guards to take Tallow inside and then closed the door behind them.

  By now Tallow was nearing total exhaustion. Even with the help of the guards, ascending the stairs was more exercise than he had had in a long while, and he could barely keep his swollen eyes open. That, coupled with the sight of the bed and the warmth of the fire, conspired to make the tall young man lose consciousness.

  When he awoke he found he was in the bed. His soiled clothing had been removed and his wounds were treated with bandages and healing salves. Tallow tried to sit up and look around the room. His head spun as he struggled to recall where he was and what he was doing here. He was so confused by his surroundings that he did not notice at first that he was not alone. Sitting in a chair by the foot of the bed was an attractive woman he had not seen before. She was dressed in well-made but functional clothes and carried no visible weapons. Her long red hair was tied into a ponytail and her bright blue eyes glittered in the firelight.

  “I hope you’re feeling better,” the woman said, a warm smile on her face. “There’s a little food on a tray by the bed if you feel up to it.”

  “Where am I?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “All your questions will be answered. For now, just rest and eat. This isn’t the time to confuse you.”

  Tallow looked over at the food and his stomach lurched. He had not realised just how hungry he was, but he knew he had to restrain himself.

  “Thank you.”

  The woman smiled and waved a hand towards the food. “Please eat.”

  The food would not be poisoned. If whoever held him captive wanted him dead, they would have killed him in his cell. Something had changed, but not necessarily for the better. This was just another stage of the interrogation process and Tallow had simply exchanged one cell for another. But he was not going to miss the opportunity to regain some of his strength, so the young man consumed the food thankfully. He was careful not to gorge himself lest he lose the nourishment his body so desperately needed.

  Once he had finished eating, the woman rose, took the tray, and knocked on the door. She handed it to a guard standing outside and resumed her seat. She smiled again as Tallow returned to sleep, offering a silent thanks to his god for this chance to heal.

  Thoughts of escape could wait for a little while.

  It was several days before Tallow had the strength to get out of bed. Many of his wounds had fully healed, but he still had a long way to go before he recovered completely. The woman, who introduced herself as Tara, kept a vigil by his bedside, and Tallow never once saw her leave him. She changed his bandages and kept him clean and fed. She spoke little, and judging by her muscular physique such sedentary duties were not normal for her. He frequently asked Tara how long he had been held prisoner, but she claimed not to know and quickly changed the subject. Despite the kindness she had shown him, Tallow had no doubt that Tara was dangerous. He knew that, given his weakened state, she would be more than he could handle.

  Each day he felt a little stronger and before long Tallow took his first unassisted steps. He had to hold the bed to stabilise himself as he stood and waited for the nausea to pass. He took a small step and his mind swam for an instant, causing him to lose his balance, but after half a dozen attempts he was able to remain standing on his own. Cautiously, he shuffled across to the window. The shutters were closed, as always, but he felt the need to breathe some fresh air.

  “Can you open this?” he
asked.

  Tara shook her head. “I can’t, I don’t have the key. I’ll ask the guard to get it for you tomorrow, if you like.”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Tara smiled and cocked her head to the side, looking Tallow up and down.

  “I know it’s been a long time since you saw the sun, but we had to keep the room warm and free of draughts to keep you from catching your death of fever. Now that you’re on the mend we should be able to re-open the window and let you see the world again.”

  Exhausted by even the slight exertion of walking three steps to the window, Tallow returned to his bed and promptly fell asleep. He awoke some time later to the sound of quiet conversation. Tallow forced himself to remain motionless and keep his breathing regular as he listened.

  “He wants to open the window,” Tara said.

  “He has recovered quickly,” said a man whose voice he did not recognise. “You have done your job too well, Tara. We are not yet ready for him. The timetable for this is very delicate; we cannot afford any mistakes.”

  Tara snorted. “I haven’t done anything. He’s young and fit and strong, he’s just responded well to the treatment. He was up and walking today, after only six days. I don’t think we can drag our feet with this one. If he’s too well-healed before we begin, we’ll lose him too.”

  There were a few moments of silence before the man spoke again.

  “Very well, if he wants the window open then I’ll allow it.”

  “I question the wisdom of this course of action.”

  “We already know that torture will not get us what we need. His partner was subjected to the most intense interrogation and we learned nothing. If the direct approach fails we must try a different tactic. We will allow him to heal, and then he will be conditioned to tell us what we want to know without anyone having to lift a finger.”

  “I think it’s dangerous. If he’s healthy, he may attempt to escape.”

  The man chuckled.

  “It is your job to see that does not happen. Keep him drugged if it will help you keep him under control. Now stop questioning me and carry out your instructions.”

  Tallow heard the door open, followed by the man’s footsteps as he walked away. Tara closed the door closed and resumed her usual place on the chair at the foot of his bed. It appeared as though they genuinely did want him to recover. It was an interesting piece of information, and demonstrated the lengths that these people were prepared to go, to but it didn’t help him understand what they hoped to gain from this elaborate game.

  Eventually, he fell back asleep and was woken by Tara a little while later. She indicated the food that had been prepared for him and Tallow ate it without complaint, knowing that it would be drugged. As he consumed the meal he tried to see if he could he could detect anything unusual. He did notice a slight metallic taste in the vegetables, but was not sure if that signalled anything. After he finished eating he sat back and waited for the drugs to take effect.

  “What are you going to do with me?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you helping me? What do you expect from me?”

  Tara laughed. “We’re helping you because you need our help. As to what we expect, right now we expect nothing. Nothing beyond your health and well-being”

  Tallow was starting to feel drowsy.

  “I’m lucky you came along; I probably would not have survived in those dungeons much longer.”

  “I know. Now go to sleep, you need your rest.”

  He awoke the next day to see sunlight streaming in through the open window. Despite the brightness, it felt good on his face.

  “I imagine it’s good to see the sun again,” Tara said when she saw he was awake. “How do you feel?”

  Tallow sat up in the bed and looked out at the blue sky beyond the window.

  “A bit weak is all; I could do with some exercise.”

  “Perhaps I can arrange something. What did you have in mind?”

  “I was apprenticed as a blacksmith back home.”

  “A blacksmith, you say?” Tara said, sounding genuinely interested. “Where is home? I imagine you would be keen to get back there.”

  “Hessing Glen, a small village a few miles from Pitchfield. My father was the village blacksmith. Do you know it?”

  Tara shook her head. “I am afraid I haven’t heard of either place.”

  Tallow sighed, a wistful expression on his face. “Do you know why I was being held in the dungeons?”

  “I can’t imagine it was for any good reason,” she said. “But you needn’t worry about that now. Those days are over. Soon you will be able to return to your family and your father’s forge in Hessing Glen.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Tallow turned from the window and looked at Tara directly. “Thank you for everything you have done for me.”

  Tara smiled and held his gaze a moment before she rose and poured him a glass of water.

  He knew that this was part of some complex attempt to break his will, and he had to remind himself that despite appearances Tara was the enemy. Once they determined that torture was not going to work, they changed tactics: where pain and suffering failed resort to kindness. He almost laughed at their belief that this approach might work, but if he was to have any chance of escape he had to play along. It would be difficult for him to build his strength without them knowing, but it was the only way he was ever going to get out of here alive.

  The following day he was taken from his room and led downstairs to a small study. The walls were lined with shelves that were filled with books. Tallow was careful not to betray his education by paying the books any undue attention, but the collection was indeed impressive. The room was currently unoccupied, but he was sure he was being watched. Two chairs sat on opposite sides of a well-made table. A small fire burned in the fireplace filling the room with a comfortable heat.

  After a brief wait the door opened and a short, athletic-looking man walked in carrying a tray, a decanter, and two pewter goblets. He placed the tray on the table and invited Tallow to sit in one of the chairs. Tallow did as he was told and waited to see what the man had to say.

  Without a word the man filled both goblets with a dark red liquid that Tallow assumed was wine, and offered them both to him. The move was designed to allay any fears that the wine might be poisoned.

  “Why have you brought me here?” Tallow said as he picked up a glass and had a sniff of the wine’s bouquet.

  “We have much to discuss and I thought it would be more comfortable in here.”

  Tallow recognised the voice; it was the man he overheard speaking with Tara.

  “Food will be served later, but for now please enjoy the wine. It is from a local vintner and quite good.”

  “I’m not interested in being comfortable! I just want to get out of here. Why don’t you let me go?”

  The man’s expression darkened. “Have we been anything other than cordial since we saved you from the dungeons? Have we not tended your wounds and allowed you the chance to heal? What right do you have to refuse my hospitality and make demands of me?”

  The man glared at Tallow for a long while, then took a deep breath and relaxed a little. “Now this is not the place for threats and ultimatums. We have something to discuss and I had hoped that we might do it with a modicum of civility. Is that so much for me to ask?”

  Tallow shook his head. “I suppose not. Please accept my apology.”

  The man took another deep breath, then took a long sip of wine. He swirled the liquid around his mouth to savour the flavour before swallowing. He took another, smaller sip before sitting back in his chair and letting out a contented sigh.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” the man began. “My name is Carabin, and I am responsible for your current safety and well-being. I apologise for not coming to see you earlier, but Tara felt that you were not ready to have visitors. Now that the danger has passed, I thought it opportune to make
your acquaintance.”

  Tallow nodded. “In that case, it’s nice to finally meet you. Naturally I’m grateful, but I have no way to repay you for your kindness. Perhaps once I’m strong enough to return home I can make amends.”

  Carabin smiled. “Of course, I understand. But there is something that you can give me now that will help me greatly.”

  Tallow remained silent.

  “You see, Tallow, I know who you are. I know what you are, and more importantly, I know where you come from. And while my knowledge is extensive, it is far from complete. I would like you to help me fill in some of the blanks.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Now, don’t pretend ignorance, good Tallow. It ill-becomes you. Your loyalties are misplaced; you owe nothing to the Family. It was your Vesper who told me how to find you, and your partner Greythorne was also helpful before he finally succumbed to his wounds.”

  “What do you want?”

  “In exchange for information I will give you something you lack right now.”

  “And what is that?”

  Carabin’s smile widened. “A future.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you, my name is Carabin.”

  “Not your name. Who do you work for? Where did you get all of this ridiculous information? My family lives in Hessing Glen. My father is a blacksmith.”

  Carabin’s face became stern and his eyes hard. “I can be a fine benefactor, Tallow, or I can be a dangerous enemy. I’m not here to threaten you, but be aware that I hold your life in my hands. Give some thought to what I have said. I will talk with you again in a few days. Tara mentioned that you were keen to get some exercise. Perhaps after you have been more accommodating, you will get your wish.” Carabin emptied his glass and rose to his feet. “For now, I suggest you think about what I said.”

  With that, Carabin exited the room and left the door open for Tara to enter. She placed an arm around Tallow’s waist as she escorted back to his cell.