Prologue

12 0 0
                                    


Lightning flashed faraway, soon followed by a roaring explosion. Rain pelted Lord Henry's squire as he raced down the stone walkway on his black stallion. He had an urgent message from The King himself, addressed to Lord Richards. It contained information that someone didn't want Richards to read. That someone, my client, hired me to kill the squire and burn the evidence.

I sat perched on the roof of an old bakery; I knew that this was my chance to prove myself, this was my first job. If I succeeded, my training ended and my career as an assassin began. However, if I failed, it was the end. I had been raised for this, and if I couldn't perform my purpose, than my life was worthless. From the sound of things, though, this would be a milk run, as most first contracts were. I just had to intercept and kill a messenger, in the dead of night, with no one around. Seriously. I mean, sure, don't give me an impossible mission but at least give me a challenge. The ease of this irked me. Then again, my life did depend on this so, perhaps it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to me. The squire headed straight into my range. I loaded my crossbow, not exactly my favorite weapon, but it was trustworthy enough at this range, easy to handle, and packed enough of a punch to ensure this one wouldn't get up. Still, I had laced the tip with a particularly poisonous brew I had put together myself, just in case.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the night in flash a brilliant night, backlighting me. The thunder that followed, was instant, coursing through me long before the light faded. It spooked the squire's horse causing it to rear up. As the man struggled to regain control, I trained my sights on his chest, breathing in to steady my aim. He glanced my way, just as the final traces of the light faded away. I knew he saw me, because the moment he did, he froze, like any prey discovering it's being hunted. I smiled grimly, Exhaling slowly as I pulled the trigger.

The arrow flew straight, as it had so many times in training, and struck him square in the chest. The man flew off his horse from the force of the blow. He slammed into a wall and slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the clay wall. His horse darted off into the night. I leapt off the roof and landed gracefully across the street, not 10 meters from him. I grabbed a torch off of the wall next to me, and strolled towards him. His eyes, he was already struggling to keep them open, followed me pleadingly. I Reached him, and knelt by his side looking down at him. He had conveniently fallen on a pile of hay, making my life easier. He looked up at me, searching for my eyes, hidden by the shadow cast by my cowl. I noticed he was still clutching the message he had been sent to deliver in his hand. I reached down, plucking it from his weakened grasp. He tried to stop me, but I bashed him in the face with the butt end of my torch.

"Please," He begged, "Don't give that... to.. Him," He raised his hand slowly and coughed rigorously, blood spurting from his mouth onto his hand, "If he.." He coughed again, this was annoying me. Just stop talking and die already I thought, but I knew that a man's last words were very dear to him, so I let him speak.

"If he found out we knew... he'd win. He'd kill us all." He coughed again, he was beginning to foam at the mouth, his body spasming from waves of pure agony. I ignored his failing plight for life and looked at the message in my hand. The mission had been to burn it with the body. Then again, he had wanted me to stop this for a reason. Couldn't hurt to take a look. I stuffed it in my satchel as He started to talk again.

Blood spurted out again as he coughed, and then pleaded,

"Finish me," at first I didn't move, watching him writhe. It impressed me he hadn't once begged for his own life, or offered up information in exchange for help. His loyalty, and steadfastness even in the face of death was not what I had expected. A particularly violent fit of spasms coursed through him, and He screamed.

"Please!"

So I dropped the torch, turned, and walked down the stone pathway. Just before reaching the top of a large hill, I turned around. I watched as the fire raged furiously, I watched until Lord Richards's knights extinguished the fire. I couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt. That man had been innocent, simply carrying out a mission, like me. He probably had a family, a wife and children. People who would miss him. I had snuffed him out like that fire. Shattered someone's world. Sent a soul to the afterlife before it's time. I wondered, if, perhaps, this wasn't what I should do with my life. How many more like him would I kill? And for what? Money? Fame? Meaningless and trivial those were. Nothing like the love that man had known. The purpose and duty he had served. The honor even in his death. I had never had that, and I would never have it either. I bowed my head as these thoughts plagued me. However, I felt that this was the path set for me by fate. It was all I could be, so I might as well be the best at it I could. To do so though, I would have to learn to deal with this. So I raised my head and swallowed my guilt, I couldn't afford such feeling's, not with my job. I fingered the message the squire had given his life in his attempt to deliver it. I had glanced at it while he was still burning, it contained an encoded script, one that I didn't have the key for. It was important though, and so I held onto it. One day, it could be useful. I looked one last time in the direction of my first victim,Turned away, and left. I went to the horse I had tied up on the outskirts of town, mounted it, and rode off into the night. Leaving behind the deceased squire, and with him, a piece of my soul. One that would only hold me back from my purpose.

NightslayerWhere stories live. Discover now