Eldritch Assassin

by Adam Witcher

  Very little was left—loose bricks, shattered glass, remains of statues. They didn’t know what they were looking for, but they looked anyway. Isaac led her among the remains of the hallway that led to his sacrificial chamber.

  They entered the room, and images flashed through Isaac’s mind. The knife, now abandoned in favor of Saldana’s dagger, high above him in Hector's hand, ready to bring him death. Hector himself, pale face frozen into a look of confident devotion.

  “If there’s anything to find, it’ll be in here.”

  They shifted through rubble, squatting low so they wouldn’t be seen from beyond the toppled walls. Something gold and shiny caught Isaac’s eye. He moved aside a brick and found a pendant. Though scratched, it still clearly depicted a scorpion. Scorpius. The same image that the other man had tattooed on his arm.

  “Did you ever hear your father talk about Scorpius?” Isaac picked up the pendant and examined it more closely.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She strode over and examined it too. “I feel like I’ve heard my dad say the name, but I can’t place it.”

  The scorpion depicted shot a beam of magical energy from its stinger. Before it, a man took the beam directly into his chest. He was in the midst of being vaporized.

  He flipped the pendant over. A cauldron between two trees was etched on the other side.

  “I’ve seen that image,” Aerin said, taking the pendant. “A long time ago, when I was really young. I’m trying to remember where.”

  “Do you think this is the talisman?”

  “I’m not sure. But we should keep it just in case.”

  Aerin was about to say something else when she was cut off by stumbling footsteps behind them. They spun around and found the two drunken men from outside grinning and walking toward them.

  “You look familiar,” one slurred at Aerin. His moustache was smeared with ash. “How do I know you?”

  “We were just leaving,” Aerin said, her cheeks reddening.

  Isaac moved his hand over his shirt where his dagger was strapped.

  “No, no,” said the other one. “I do know you. You’re… you’re the mayor’s girl. I saw your portrait in the capitol building. In that bastard’s office! So why aren’t your ears pointy?” He burst out laughing, and his buddy joined him. They cackled like they’d just heard the funniest joke of their lives.

  “Hold it there, drunkies.” Isaac pulled Saldana’s dagger out and pointed it at them. “No closer. Just turn around and go right back to your bottle.”

  “You an elf too, boy?” the first one asked.

  “No, I’m human, so fuck off.”

  “Oh!” He turned to his friend. “You hear that, Gus, he’s human. So leave him alone!”

  They doubled over laughing again. When they stopped, they both pulled out daggers from their coats. They were rusty and old, but they looked sharp.

  “You wanna know what I think?” the second one asked Isaac, who sighed.

  “Not even slightly.”

  “I think you’re a race traitor, boy. I think you’re tryin’ to get mayor girl back in office.”

  Isaac drew his blade. Both men stared at it, fear battling with drunken confidence.

  “Looking for a fight, boy?”

  Aerin started muttering again. Isaac nearly dropped his dagger when he saw it appear to grow the length of a broadsword, but he managed to keep a straight face.

  “What in Saldana’s name…” The two men stared at him, wide-eyed. “Some kinda dark magic. Let’s kill ‘em!”

  Shit.

  The men rushed Isaac, rage and murder in their eyes. He jumped to the side and readied himself. But the men kept rushing in the direction where he’d been. One lunged, sticking his knife into empty air.

  “Got him! Wait, what?” He retracted his blade and stared at it.

  The other man turned to Aerin.

  “This damn witch! She’s doin’ some kinda mind control!”

  Now ignoring Isaac, they turned to Aerin and brandished their knives, ready to attack her. Isaac was overcome with rage. Before they had a chance to strike, he went for the first one’s neck. The spectral tip of his dagger sank into nothingness by more than a foot before he felt the true end of the blade dig into flesh. Blood squirted out from the man’s neck while he unleashed a gurgled cry. The man dropped his blade and sank to his knees.

  The dying human turned to his friend and stared at him pleadingly, as if there was anything he could do. His friend froze in fear.

  Isaac was about to proceed when he felt his dagger vibrating. It glowed a faint but deep blue. He turned it to the still living man, feeling power rush from the hilt of his weapon through his body.

  “Want to end up like your friend?”

  The second man took off running through a spot where the wall used to be. His friend collapsed and died, his blood seeping in around the fallen rubble. When he stopped moving and died, a blue mist seeped out of his flesh and clung to the air for a moment before entering the tip of Isaac’s dagger. The illusion spell had faded, and it appeared again at its original length. It glowed a little more brightly once the mist fully entered it.

  Isaac and Aerin stared for a moment, neither sure how to react.

  “Well,” Isaac said. “I guess we learned one way to re-enchant this thing.”

  Aerin was about to respond when she saw something in the distance that made her stop.

  “We need to go, now. That bastard is coming back, probably with more humans, and I don’t want to be here when he does.”

  7

  They made a run for it.

  They were halfway down the street when they heard men shouting. It didn’t matter much. The guards were either drunk or weighed down by armor and weapons they weren’t used to. Even so, when they approached a corner, Aerin pulled another trick from her sleeve. She told Isaac to stand aside, then split herself into two. He watched in awe as two Aerins stood side-by-side, their motions mirroring one another. Then one of them dashed off in the opposite direction, and the real Aerin—or, at least, he hoped it was the real Aerin—grabbed him by the hand and pulled him behind a dumpster in a nearby alleyway. They waited and watched while the angry mob chased the phantom image.

  “Gods, I want to be there when you disappear into thin air.”

  She laughed. “I would love to see the looks on their faces.”

  Once the mob fully disappeared, they tried to form a new plan. Isaac idly examined his now lightly glowing knife. The blue illumination was slight, but more prominent in the shadows of the alley. He remembered how much brighter it had glowed when he’d opened the portal to come home. Even if he wanted to open another, it was probably too weak.

  “Gods, how many people do I have to murder to re-enchant this thing? You’d think a human life would be worth more.”

  Aerin took it from him, examined it closely.

  “There must be other ways to enchant it. Apparently, lightning was one. Hopefully there are more. Otherwise, you’re going to get stuck killing a lot of people. Can I try something?”

  “You have an idea?”

  “Not a way to enchant it, but just something of a test. I’ve never tried it before, but supposedly, dark mages are able to absorb power from an item enchanted with dark magic. It’s in the Arcaneum. Those spells depleted me a bit. Mind if I try it?”

  Isaac hesitated. A man had to die just for this level of enchantment, though he was certainly asking for it. But if there were other ways to enchant the blade, he’d much prefer those. Killing wasn’t so bad when the target deserved it, but he wasn’t eager to make murder a habit. He had to admit, though, the feeling of power he got from stabbing the man was disturbingly pleasurable. It was a pleasure he hadn’t felt in years, and he shuddered at the memory of the last time he’d felt compelled to kill. He didn’t trust himself not to take that compulsion too far. There needed to be another option.

  “Go ahead, let’s see if you can pull it off.”

  Aerin b
it her lip in concentration and stared deeply into the dagger. After a moment, its glow faded, and she let out a slight moan. Soon, the dagger was back to its ordinary self. Aerin lifted a hand, then lowered it. When she lifted it again, she had six fingers. Giggling, she shook it, then was back to five.

  “This might come in handy,” she said. “My gods, that felt good.”

  “Getting high on death energy, are you? Don’t get any crazy ideas.”

  She ignored him and shivered with excitement.

  “Look,” Isaac said. “If there are other ways to enchant this thing, we should probably figure that out. Any ideas where to look?”

  Aerin considered this.

  “I doubt there are any enchanters still in business right now, but even if they were, they wouldn’t enchant something with dark magic. I certainly can’t do it. It’s too advanced for me. We’ll have to leave the city.”

  “Honestly, I’d be delighted to leave his hell hole, but where do we go?”

  She sighed, then perked up like a memory suddenly entered her mind.

  “I may have an idea. I remember where I saw the image on that pendant. The cauldron between trees.”

  “More insights from your father?”

  She nodded.

  “About ten years ago, there was a scandal in the city. Hunters kept disappearing in the Greatwood about a hundred miles east of here. They call it a Greatwood, but it’s more of a swamp, really. People talked about a witch who lived there. They said she was taking the hunters and sacrificing them in dark magic rituals. My father acted outraged. Of course, it was all just an act. I see that now, but I was too young to put two and two together at the time. He insisted on going himself. It was like this big publicity stunt to get re-elected. He only brought a handful of guards and rode into the woods himself. A few days later, he returned alone. He said that the witch killed all the guards, but that he’d taken care of her. The weird thing was, afterward, a whole bunch of new items showed up at our house—weapons, armor, little statues. And they all glowed.”

  “So you think he sacrificed the guards in exchange for enchanted items?”

  She nodded. “Something like that. I can’t believe I never thought of it before.”

  “Gods, how does he get away with so much?”

  “Because he isn’t the only member of government into this stuff, apparently.”

  “Fair enough,” Isaac said. “As much as I’m not eager to risk getting sacrificed again, let’s go meet a witch. A hundred miles is a long way, though. We’ll need a mount.”

  Aerin smirked at him.

  “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  Once they were out of Cormea, nobody gave them any trouble. Some elves were out and about, but Aerin kept her human disguise and they all steered clear. She also used a small amount of her magic to alter her face slightly, in case anyone else was familiar with what the mayor’s daughter looked like. The only humans they came across were docile, offering little more than nods of solidarity at their passing.

  Near the city’s outer limits, they stopped at a market and general store for supplies—two rucksacks and a few days’ worth of food and water. A terrified elf sold the goods to them. He seemed genuinely surprised when Isaac paid.

  Next, they stopped at a clothing shop, one across the street from the stables. A giant wooden sign read Castus’s Costume and Special Wear.

  “You need a new get up,” she said. “Something a little more practical. This is where I got my mage robe. Castus is a genius; he’ll set you up nicely.”

  “Sure he’s still in business?” Isaac asked. “Also, this is a costume shop. I’m not in the market for a jester’s outfit.”

  “Trust me,” she said. “They have much more than that. Much more than most customers get to see.”

  She led him inside, where a dark-skinned human man lay reclined in a chair. Surrounding him was clothing of every type imaginable, from formal robes and tunics to outfits for ranchers and, just as Isaac suspected, actual costumes—masks, capes, rainbow gowns.

  “Aerin,” the man said, standing up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Castus.”

  “I just mean it’s dangerous as hell. I’m glad to see you, but I hope you’re staying safe.”

  She revealed her human ears, and he gasped.

  “Getting better, I see! I shouldn’t doubt you. What can I do for you?”

  “My friend here needs some new gear.”

  “A robe like yours?”

  “No,” she said, eyeing Isaac. “Something a bit different. Something for an assassin, not a mage.”

  “Assassin?” Isaac asked. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  Castus went to the front door and switched around the sign to read ‘closed.” Then, he went into the back room and emerged with an ink-black garment.

  “Try this on,” he said. “Just finished making it.”

  He led Isaac to a changing room, where Isaac put the pieces of clothing on. The material was almost skintight, yet breathable. Thin but hard pieces of light armor covered his most vulnerable areas but left his joints with full freedom of motion. All throughout the clothing, tiny compartments were held on by zippers and straps, giving him spots to conceal whatever he desired. The suit even came with a belt that held his dagger. When he looked in the mirror, he had to admit, he looked badass. He took a few lunges with the dagger and noted how quick, comfortable, and safe he felt.

  He went back out into the main room of the store, where the other two waited for him.

  “Okay, you were right,” he said. “This is awesome.”

  “You look hot as hell,” Aerin said, eyes wide. “I can’t wait to peel that off you later.”

  Isaac grinned, and Castus blushed.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased,” he told him.

  Isaac paid the man, thanked him, and they set back out into the street.

  “Come again, Aerin, stay safe out there!” Castus called.

  They eventually reached a set of stables on the outskirts of the city. A small, wooden, rectangular building acted as the office. The stables themselves sat adjacent, an enormous wooden barn where soft brays of horses emanated through thin walls.

  Though normally run by elves, a young human woman sat at the desk and smoked a greenweed cigarette. Her eyes were glazed over, her mouth twisted into a perpetual grin.

  “You wanna buy a horse?” she asked, giggling.

  “Please,” Isaac said. “A good one. How does a gold piece sound?”

  He was taking a chance. A proper horse was worth five times that, but the woman was too stoned to care. Besides, they weren’t her horses anyway. He wondered where the elves who actually owned the place were, but he didn’t ask.

  The young woman contemplated his offer, no doubt wondering how much more greenweed a gold piece would buy her. Isaac already knew it was a lot.

  “Sounds good, pick any horse you want.”

  Isaac dropped the gold coin and headed for the stables.

  “We could have just stolen one,” Aerin said.

  Isaac shrugged.

  “It’s for a good cause. Besides, I don’t steal from humans. Unless they really deserve it.”

  They entered the stables and admired the several dozen horses there. The stallion they both wanted quickly stood out. Strong, jet-black, and healthy, he neighed at them eagerly when they walked by. They found a saddle and led him out.

  “He needs a name,” Isaac said.

  “Moonlight.” She said it without hesitation.

  He laughed.

  “Were you one of those little girls who dreamed about horses?”

  “Just let me enjoy my fulfilled fantasy, okay?”

  “Moonlight it is.”

  Isaac spotted a stack of bedrolls in the corner of the stables. He approached them and picked a couple up. Though a little old and tattered, they appeared to be in decent shape.

 
“I take it this will be an overnight trip?” Isaac asked.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  Isaac strapped them to Moonlight’s side. They climbed atop the horse and took off toward the Greatwood.

  They rode for the rest of the day and admired the changing landscapes of the Kingdom of Sarcosia. Avalour straddled the western coast, but they rode east toward the Greatwood. As they moved past the lowlands, they rode through a stretch of desert speckled with plateaus and canyons. Isaac admired the wide-open skies and considered how long it had been since he was outside Avalour. Despite everything, he felt refreshed.

  Soon they saw the hints of Moonlight’s namesake on the horizon, and when they reached a secluded canyon surrounded by rocky plateaus, they settled on a spot to camp for the night. Moonlight found a nearby stream to drink. They dismounted and were about to set up camp when they heard the sound of more horses somewhere nearby, then men shouting.

  They craned their necks in search of the sound. A few hundred meters away, the silhouettes of three horses with riders approached them. Riders whooped and hollered as they came near. Isaac drew his dagger and waited.

  When they were close enough, tusks and massive underbites became visible. Three orcish men decked out in leather armor and brandishing hand axes and bows. This came as a surprise. Isaac assumed all orcs dealt with heavy combat—warhammers and thick steel. But on large, open stretches of land, a ranger’s approach was likely more practical.

  They circled Isaac, Aerin, and Moonlight, who whinnied anxiously.

  “Look what we have here,” said the biggest orc, a burly, grinning, green-skinned brute atop a miserable looking steed. “Couple of travelers, huh? You two paid your travel taxes yet?”