The Assassins: Forged In Blood

by Goran Zidar

  After several nervous but thankfully uneventful nights Bran announced that if they walked a little longer that day they might be able to reach N’Dreki. That was motivation enough for Atilen, who resolved to walk as fast as he needed to keep from having to sleep on the ground again.

  The journey progressed much as it had the previous few days: Bran continued his lessons in survival and Atilen only half-listened to his words. Bran did not seem to care that his valuable lore was being ignored.

  An hour or so before sunset they crested yet another rocky hill and Bran stopped to survey the area. He squinted into the distance and pointed to a black speck on the horizon slightly south of their current position.

  “That’s N’Dreki,” he said, his eyes scanning the area.

  “Let’s press on then.”

  “We’ve a few hours’ walk ahead of us and we won’t make it before nightfall. We’d be safer making camp somewhere near here and striking out in the morning.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” Atilen said, the thought of a comfortable bed and a warm meal guiding his words.

  Bran nodded. “The going will get harder once the darkness sets in.”

  “I know, I know. Let’s get going.”

  As Bran predicted, their pace slowed substantially as sunset neared. The lengthened shadows made it difficult for them to see the rocky ground, and they had to pick their way very carefully lest a misstep result in a twisted ankle. Once it became fully dark they had to stop and wait for the moon to rise before they could continue. Neither man was willing to risk a torkh, not now that their destination was in sight. Once the moon had risen they continued moving and their journey became easier. A light wind carried the smells of cooking toward them and Atilen’s stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of a warm meal.

  “Not much farther now,” Bran said with a smile. “But keep the noise down lest we attract unwanted attention.”

  Atilen let out a quick laugh and kept moving. A short while later he stopped and reached out to grab Bran’s shoulder, a lone finger held to his lips. His keen hearing picked up something in the darkness behind them.

  “I think I heard something,” he said in a low whisper.

  The pair stood stock-still and listened. There was definitely something out there. A few heartbeats later they could both hear the sound of guttural speech.

  Orks.

  It was impossible to be sure how far away the orks were or even if they had been spotted, but all hopes of avoiding the hunting party were dashed when they heard the sound of insistent barking.

  A dog had caught their scent.

  "Quick, if we run we can make it." Atilen said urgently.

  They were just over a mile away from the safety of the village and Atilen planned to reach it ahead of their pursuers. He began to move, but had taken no more than three steps when he saw that Bran had a different idea. The dwarf drew his weapons and stood his ground, a small hand-axe in his right hand and a short sword in his left. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Atilen wasn’t sure what to do. Bran’s decision to stand and fight would buy him the time he needed to reach N’Dreki, but he couldn’t leave his friend out here to die. With a sigh Atilen turned and drew his own weapon. Damn that stubborn dwarf.

  The enormous wild dog reached them first, its fangs bared as it leapt to attack Bran. The dwarf lashed out with his sword as the dog jumped, but his swing went wide and the dog’s powerful jaws latched onto Bran’s outstretched arm. The small man grunted in pain and chopped into the dog’s wriggling body with his axe; the blade bit deep into the dog’s flank and caused it to release its grip.

  Atilen could see the orks now. Three of them ran into the fray with little or no co-ordination, bloodlust evident in their hue and cry. Bran’s sword arm hung limply; evidently the dog’s bite had caused some serious damage. Two of the orks engaged the wounded dwarf while the third ran past and headed straight for Atilen.

  There was just enough light for Atilen to see his enemy, but he knew he was at a disadvantage as the ork could see perfectly – another reason he hated the great outdoors. Atilen barely avoided the first blow and more by luck than skill was able to score a hit on the creature’s flank.

  The ork growled in pain and retaliated with a vicious sweep of its blade, striking Atilen squarely in the chest. His leather armour stopped the blade from slicing into his flesh but the blow knocked the wind out of him. The animal snarl to his left reminded Atilen that the wounded dog was still a threat; things were not going well at all. With a grimace the Fox tumbled to his left, avoiding yet another of the ork’s blows, and then rose to his feet behind his opponent and buried his blade deep into the ork’s back. The ork fell to its knees and Atilen ended its life with a slice to the throat.

  Just as Atilen finished off the stricken ork the wounded dog bit his leg. Atilen screamed in pain and brought his sword down hard on the creature’s head, the thin blade entering the skull to pierce its brain. The dog died instantly, but the pain in Atilen’s leg sent a wave of nausea through his entire body. It took him a moment to recover. When he looked up he saw an ork looming over him.

  Atilen froze.

  He waited for the inevitable blow to come, but the ork suddenly went limp and collapsed to the rocky ground. Atilen was momentarily confused, but the axe buried in the ork’s back cleared things up. Bran stepped onto the corpse and removed the axe, then – nursing his wounded arm – he walked over to the ork Atilen had fought and made sure it was dead with a sickening blow to its head.

  They were battered and bloody but they were alive.

  “We need to get away from here. The combat may have attracted others,” Bran said as his collected his equipment.

  “You don’t need to tell me twice,” Atilen said as he gingerly got to his feet and limped off behind his companion. “Why didn’t you run?” he added.

  Bran turned to face his friend with an incredulous expression. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, why?” Atilen said, clearly missing his companion’s point.

  “You’re an idiot,” Bran said, his short legs pumping as he headed towards the town.

  They completed the remainder of the journey in silence.

  * * *

  N’Dreki was an inhospitable-looking place. It was home to a small number of people, most of whom worked in the mines that dotted the surrounding countryside. The region was rich in precious metals – there was some silver and gold – but by far the most common resource exhumed here was copper. The population of N’Dreki was comprised almost entirely of men. There were few women and even fewer children in the village, and what women did come here did so to make money either by serving tables or on their backs.

  In all it was a charmless place, and while it may have been better than sleeping out in the wilderness, it was not somewhere that either man intended to call home for any longer than was absolutely necessary. The one thing in its favour was its size. Being such a small town made it easy for Atilen to keep an eye out for the arrival of his quarry.

  Thankfully he did not have to wait long.

  Tara arrived a few days after Atilen and Mykal arrived a day after that. Atilen did little in the intervening days save rest and recover from his wound. Bran did what he always did when surrounded by civilization and drank or drugged himself into a stupor and here neither substance was in short supply.

  Tara and Mykal didn’t stay in N’Dreki for long. After what Atilen considered a lengthy and needlessly vocal night of lovemaking, the pair left town with the experienced thief close behind.

  The pair travelled several miles to a small but well-guarded mining camp. Because of the terrain, the mine would have been impossible for Atilen to find without following the intriguing young woman and her companion. It was situated in a cul-de-sac and the camp had a sturdy stone wall constructed across the entrance – a wise precaution considering that the miners were all alone out here, miles from any help and deep inside ork territory.

  Knowing that he would h
ave no chance getting past the wall without being seen, Atilen spent a full day finding an alternative route into the enclosure. Though he would never admit it to Bran, Atilen put some of the dwarf’s recent wilderness lore to good use. It wasn’t easy, but under the cover of darkness the thief eventually made his way down one of the steep walls and now waited hidden amongst a pile of scree at the base of a cliff inside the camp.

  Chapter 4: It Favours The Bold

  “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.”

  - Seneca

  High Summer – Year 2118 SA

  A mining camp in the disputed lands South West of Gyrlund

  Atilen crossed the open area in the middle of the mining camp and entered the mine tunnel while the moon was covered by cloud. He had been waiting, cramped and alone, for the past few hours, and felt that now was the time to make his move and enter the darkened mine. The open area contained a number of wooden buildings surrounding a deep well. There was a long-room where the miners ate, an equipment store and stables, and a dormitory. There were also a couple of stone buildings: one was obviously a smithy, as Atilen could see the smoke from the forge and hear the clink of hammer and anvil, but the other was more interesting. It seemed to be a house of some kind. It was built hard up against a cliff wall and it looked as though some of the rooms were cut into the stone of the cliff face. That building was definitely worthy of investigation, but he needed to check the mine first.

  Over the course of the day he had seen Tara enter the mine at least twice, the first time on her own and the second time in the company of another man. Short and muscular, he carried himself with an air of authority. Tara didn’t strike Atilen as much of a miner so he figured that there was something down there of interest to her – and therefore of interest to him. Now, with the miners either asleep in their beds or drinking in the long-room, he had a good opportunity to have a look around.

  A single low-burning lantern lit the inside of the tunnel. He was tempted to take it, but he reasoned that since he never saw any of the miners with their own light sources the tunnels must be well-lit. This would be both a blessing and curse, since Atilen also needed to remain hidden. The cave was small, with a rough-hewn circular shaft cut into the ground below a sturdy-looking winch-operated elevator. Atilen certainly could not afford to make use of the winch but the numerous ropes and cables would be of help when climbing down the shaft.

  It was a long way down.

  The climb was not technically difficult but it was a test of his endurance. By the time he had reached the bottom his arms and legs were burning from the exertion. He cursed his damned sense of duty for the thousandth time as he rubbed his tired limbs and listened intently for any sign of occupation. Just as he hoped, the tunnels were lit. Because the miners were off-shift the lanterns were set to a low burn, giving the experienced thief plenty of shadows to hide in.

  A mine rail-cart containing a small pile of stones was nearby and the rails stretched into the mine tunnel in both directions. With no specific plan in mind, Atilen picked a direction and followed the twin iron tracks. Thick wooden beams were positioned at regular intervals supporting the roof, and the lanterns each had a good supply of oil. It was clear that this particular tunnel was well-used. He walked slowly, partly out of a desire to remain hidden but mostly because his legs felt like large slabs of stone. He moved from shadow to shadow and stopped occasionally to listen and catch his breath. Atilen found that it was difficult to breathe down here and he suddenly recalled – to his horror – that mines occasionally filled with noxious gases that could kill a man.

  In less than a hundred paces he came across a side tunnel in the mine. The tracks continued along the main shaft but the side tunnel was lit, which suggested this passage was a link between the larger tunnels. Atilen elected to continue along the tracks and soon reached another side tunnel a little further along. Again he decided to follow the tracks, but was soon forked to stop as they came to an abrupt end under a pile of rocks. The roof of the tunnel here had collapsed and Atilen was suddenly very aware of the weight of rock above him. He could see that there was an opening in the fallen rocks near the top of the tunnel and he climbed up the pile to peer beyond them. In the faint light he could see that the tracks continued on into the darkness but it was clear that nobody had been down there in a long while. This is ridiculous, he thought as he contemplated the end of the tracks. Atilen realised that he could be walking these tunnels all night and still not find anything.

  Then it hit him.

  He remembered seeing Tara enter the mine via the elevator twice that day but he had not seen her leave. He also hadn’t seen her enter the stone house, yet she had exited that building at least once that day. That must mean that there was a way to get from the mine to the house below ground.

  Atilen took a deep breath and tried to get his bearings. He couldn’t say which direction he was going, but he did know that he was headed further away from the house. He needed to retrace his steps and follow the tunnel the other way. Typical, thought Atilen, make the wrong choice in a fifty-fifty decision. It looked like Cadinas owed him another one.

  Very soon he was back where he started and this time he proceeded down the path he should have taken in the first place. As before the tunnel was well-maintained and there were regular side passages branching off it. It was slow going, but Atilen hadn’t survived this long without being careful. Despite the fact that he had heard nothing to indicate that there was anyone down here he was not about to start being sloppy now.

  He arrived at an intersection. The rail lines split in a Y and continued along both passages. The left hand tunnel seemed to descend slightly, while the right hand path remained on its current course. Another fifty-fifty choice.

  “I’m calling in that debt now, Cadinas,” Atilen said in a whispered prayer. He shrugged and decided to follow the level path.

  A short distance into the tunnel he came across a side passage that looked as though it would take him closer to the house. It was impossible for him to be sure, but somehow Atilen felt he was going the right way.

  Like the other tunnels, this one was lit with lanterns; but because it was so narrow he had nowhere to hide. After a few stressful twists and turns the side passage opened up into another rail-lined tunnel, but he heard a noise indicated it was occupied.

  The thief peered around the corner and tried to find the source of the sound.

  About a hundred steps away, he could see half a dozen men loading bags of ore onto a mine-cart. The area where they worked was brightly lit and they seemed oblivious to his presence. Atilen watched them work for a while, unsure what to do next. He knew that the workmen could not see him but he could not afford to stay in this passage for long. Looking around, he spied a darkened alcove on the other side of the main tunnel. It was deep in shadow and would allow him to continue to observe the workmen with little chance of discovery. There was another rail-cart nearby and he used that for cover as he carefully picked his way across the wide tunnel to the alcove.

  Once in position, Atilen watched the workmen for a while longer to get an understanding of their routine. They had quite a number of the heavy-looking sacks to load. He could be here a while.

  As he observed their labour, a door he hadn’t noticed previously opened between his hiding place and the workers. The man who stepped into the tunnel was silhouetted and his face was in shadow. It was impossible to be certain, but judging from his size and build he might be Mykal.

  The man approached the workers and spoke quietly with one of them. There was no way Atilen could hear the exchange. As soon as they had finished speaking, Mykal turned and left the tunnel through the same door.

  Atilen smiled. Some good fortune at last; Cadinas had heard his prayer. Now he had somewhere to go.

  Chapter 5: A Debt Repaid

  “Sometimes I wish it was just about the money.”

  - Sir Ufrield the Honourable of Karenmor

  High Summer – Year
2118 SA

  A mining camp in the disputed lands South West of Gyrlund

  Tallow had been productive these past few weeks.

  He knew that his captors were trying to earn his trust through kindness and misinformation. Tallow was appreciative of the former while being wary of the latter. The kindness was welcome relief from the torture that had preceded it, but the misinformation was becoming a challenge and Tallow had to concentrate lest he start believing the lies he was constantly exposed to.

  The young man had almost regained his strength but he still lacked the stamina for any sustained physical activity. So far he had managed to hide the full extent of his recovery from his captors, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to maintain the pretext of weakness, especially now that Tara had returned.

  While Tara was away Tallow had been left to his own devices, with only the occasional visit from Carabin. Tallow did look forward to his time with Carabin. Any social contact was better than none at all, and Tallow saw it as an opportunity to try and piece together the motives behind this elaborate charade.

  One thing he did know for certain was that Greythorne was dead. Carabin had shown Tallow his mentor’s horribly disfigured body. There were hideous wounds all over it and Tallow had a deep appreciation of the agony Greythorne must have suffered before finally being allowed to die. Carabin conveyed his deep remorse over what had been done and assured Tallow that he had tried all he could to heal him before the end.

  “I can assure you that the people who did this have been dealt with most severely,” Carabin explained. “It was not my intention that either of you suffer in this way, but some individuals cannot be relied upon to follow instructions.”