The Eighth God
Page 20
He looked at the elf sat across the desk, then handed him the piece of paper he had been reading. The man read the sheet, and as he did so his eyebrows raised, ‘Hmm, an Orcslayer in Ashen Falls eh?’
Olline regarded the elf. He didn’t have a name, or not one that Olline could find, even with all his spies. Everyone called him The Disappearing Man, or Sir for short, Olline always tried his best not to use either if he could help it. The elf had a sharp face with a nose that could cut paper, at each side was a short sword, the hilts of which had black leather wraps and was topped with opals. He wore a suit of leather clothing, also all black with a double row of opal-topped buttons down the one side. A bead of sweat ran down the side of Olline’s face, the man before him was a hunter, a killer, and even though he worked for Olline, he was never sure who was in charge. He felt he needed to say something, but his mouth just opened and closed.
‘Killed one of them about fifty years ago. Be nice to kill another.’
Olline looked at the man, and squeaked out, ‘Nice?’
‘Yeah, like I say, ain't killed one for a while. Might even be a challenge.’
‘Well, before you do, you need to talk to this Black Empress and find out exactly who or what she is. I don’t like the idea of monsters roaming the city streets leading gangs of thieves.’
‘And after I’ve spoken to her?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
The man smiled, it wasn’t a very welcoming smile ‘Ten thousand gold heads?’
Olline stared, ‘And the Orcslayer?’
‘Oh, I’ll do ‘im for free. Old times sake.’
‘Fine, but let me know what the situation is in Ashen Falls.’
The elf muttered a word, and suddenly the chair was empty.
Olline wiped the side of his face as he looked at the empty space, then he started to write a requisition for ten thousand gold heads.
2: Assassin
Uttore, the man they called Sir, stood in the shadows caused by the wall of the brothel hitting the wall of the pub opposite. He smiled to himself; only in Ashen Falls could you find a brothel called The Sooty Den.
He had been waiting patiently for the woman calling herself The Black Empress to make an appearance. Word on the street was she would be collecting the week's takings from here today, and the word had better be good. After all, he had had to cut off a lot of body parts to make sure it was.
He had been a very patient man today but watching people walking past, going about their business, was starting to pale.
Suddenly something caught his attention as a little girl walked up the step leading into The Sooty Den. She was a filthy little thing, wearing a threadbare smock; it was hard to tell who was wearing the most dirt, the smock or the girl. What stood out was the way the girl held herself, not at all like a small child, more aggressive, more powerful.
Uttore moved slightly, craning his neck to get a better view as the girl went into the building. Five minutes later she was back out, this time with a leather purse in her hand. He slipped out of the shadows and moved silently along behind her, taking care not to be obvious to the four men and women who were carefully following the girl as well.
He soon noticed that they were some kind of guard, although he didn’t think they would be too much use, they all looked undernourished, unkempt and dressed in rags. He could take them out in about thirty seconds. So, what was their purpose?
That’s when he realised that that was their purpose, simply to slow down anyone and let their leader get away. Oh, well, not a problem then. He had no problem killing innocents, he was no hero, he was a man who got paid for removing obstacles. And ten thousand gold heads would see him retiring, he was getting old, and wanted to make a family before the inevitable end.
He wasn’t a man without feelings although his enemies would probably disagree - if they were still alive. He thought of love, but then decided it would probably be cheaper to just buy a sex slave when he got to the sunnier southern lands. Perhaps to Hahukkar, that had sounded nice when he had heard the tales.
He snorted out a laugh as he recalled the stories he had heard as he had slowly peeled the skin of the fat merchant. He should never have tried to fleece his employer; you don’t mess with the Guild of the Black.
No, you should never, ever fuck with assassins.
Sighing he took out three throwing knives and was just about to get to work when a blade appeared at his own throat.
A soft, feminine voice whispered into his ear, ‘I would wait a while if I was you or you might piss off my friend over in the opposite alley.’
Uttore slowly looked over the road to see a huge man standing in the shadows of the opposite building. The man had no helmet on and his long brown hair fluttered in the breeze. He wore black plate mail with dark purple shoulder and knee pads and on his back, was strapped a huge two-headed axe. A long sword and dagger were belted at his waist, the belt was purple too, but Uttore knew this man was no battle mage. He could tell just by the mere presence of the man now he was focused on him. How the hell had he not seen him? Come to think of it how the hell had he not heard the woman?
Uttore sighed as he watched his quarry walking away. Another day then. He waited as the man strode over to stand before him, the man’s mouth was set in a grim line, and it seemed that his eyes shone purple as he came closer.
‘Sorry friend, not today. I need information from your target, and until I get it, you would do well to leave alone.’
‘And who are you to tell me what to do?’
The woman behind him cuffed his head, ‘Watch it dipshit! You want me to kill him, Hedgehog? I think he’ll be causing us a bit of trouble later.’
‘No, let him go Stil. He can have his bounty for killing her. He just needs to learn a little patience.’
Uttore froze when he heard the names of Hedgehog and Stil, was this the same Stil who had killed the entire Council of Assassins in Callensia with the help of her partner and, some said, lover? There couldn’t be two lots of people with the same names, but they could be lying just to scare him off.
'Don't you know who I fucking am?'
As his thoughts rushed around, the large warrior pulled back his right fist and slammed it forward into Uttore's face.
Blackness closed around him, and the last words he heard were, 'No.'
Author’s Notes
Age
Typically, on the continent of Esterada, where The Eighth God is set Elves live around three thousand years, Humans around fifty years and Half-Elves about nine hundred.
Orcs live around one hundred and fifty years. Obviously, there are some people that live longer or shorter lives, Adventurer types tend to die younger for instance, and you would have to be extremely lucky to be a one hundred and fifty-year-old Orc. All ages in the book are given at the human equivalent.
Magic
Any of the ‘civilised races’ can have magical talent; many become Mages or Priests depending on their sphere of influence or dedication. Magic uses power from within the person, and as this power is used the magic user will show signs of ageing.
This makes Elven Mages more powerful than the others as they live longer.
On rare occasions, the user will lose control and will age until there is nothing but dust left.
Mages cannot affect a person directly; they cannot heal, remove poisons, disease or curses – this the realm of the priests. Priests live longer than others of their kin as they can slow the ageing process down, as a rule, they can live an extra twenty percent longer. Mages are divided into two groups which are ordinary mages – who tend to wear robes and use staves, and battle mages – who have been trained to use weapons and armour.
I would like to point out, and I am sure a lot of writers will be nodding their heads at this, that Fresh Troops which is now well into the life of the book started life as the prologue!
Oh, and Saethryth's swords are named after the Roman for Chester-Le-Street and Whitley Castle, two places
at opposite ends of Hadrian's Wall.
P.S. Lavender 2016
About the Author
Paul Lavender was born in Gateshead in the north-east of England in 1968. He now lives in Worcester in the West Midlands. He is still a supporter of Gateshead F.C though!
He is married and has a son.
In his working life, he has been an Electrician and a Manager for a logistics company but is currently a stay at home dad.
The Eighth God is his first novel; the second will be called The Sect of Seven, and the third will be Helekose. Paul expects the series to run into eight books, but you never can tell with these things!
If you’re looking for The Eighth God, you can sometimes find him on an Xbox!
If you have any comments - good or bad - you can reach me on Twitter at @paullavender6, but please no trolls as they won’t make an appearance until book 5!