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Mage Assassin Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2021-02-03 10:32:43 +0000 UTCA rainbow of light ran through the window of my room and reflected a prism of multicoloured rays onto the floorboards. I looked down at my throbbing hand as I sat up in bed, and as I squinted through my tired eyes, I noticed a faint outline of a circle.
It was from where the Master had merged palms with me the day before, but my branding looked nothing like his. Instead of the blue hue that reflected from his palm, mine was almost unseen to the naked eye.
I inspected the small, flesh-colored indentation and realized I hadn’t dreamt about my conversation with Master Abbot yesterday.
I was, in fact, on my way to becoming the next Master.
I was still in my bed and waiting for the sun to finish rising, so I wiped the night dew off my face before I got up from my bed, stretched out my body, and clicked my back one disc at a time. Then I headed to the sink near the far side of the huge room and washed off the rest of the sleep in the corners of my eyes before I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
I was still a young man with much to learn, but I wore the experience I had endured on my face. Just a hint of crows feet had started to gather near the corners of my two-toned eyes, and a hard furrow line was etched between my brows. A sharp line shaped my jaw, and my cheeks had become more defined in the past few years, but I didn’t mind the sterner look of my appearance. It meant very few strangers approached me to make small talk about what I did for a living.
I shaved off the start of my beard with my folded razor and washed it off with water, and then I worked out for a while in my room and went through a series of pushups and situps against the floorboards. As the sun rose higher, I finally headed into my bathroom and took a shower to get ready for the day, and I finished my daily routine by pulling on a pair of dark cotton trousers and a light khaki tunic before heading back out to my room.
My bedroom was positioned above the Master’s office, so my view from the window was the same outdoor training area and encroaching forest. My bed faced the glass panels that looked out, and the other three walls were made from the same red-toned oak that was smothered around the building.
My mattress sat on the floor without a frame, and to my right was a wall of ivy that clung to my more unordinary weapons. They weren’t as special as the Master’s, but they were the ones I reached for less often. Hung from the ceiling and wrapped up by the green fauna was my sword that I carried with me the day before, as well as my machete, hook sword, katana, and rapier. Though none of these swords were used often, there were a few I considered my favorites.
My dao hung closest to my bed. It was a single edged sword that had been forged by the local blacksmith. It shone under the light that poured in from the window, and the top was carved from bamboo, but was covered in the fabric from my first ever kill.
He was a shepherd who poisoned another shepherd's flock.
It was a rather elementary assassination, but like everyone else in our estate, I had to work from the ground up.
I killed him in his field next to his sheep and managed to rip off a piece of his brown cotton shirt, and then I brought it home with me as a memory. When the others heard my first kill was completed, the blacksmith gifted me the sword as an inauguration, and I immediately wrapped the handle in that piece of fabric as a reminder of how far I’d come. That was many years ago, before my twelfth birthday, but I had never reached for that sword to actually use in combat. Instead, it rested like an ornament and was hung stagnated in the air.
Next to it was another favorite of mine that I reached for often. It was my flamberge, and the fanciest sword I owned. The flamberge had an undulating blade with a wave that ran along both edges of the steel weapon. I had come across it one day when I was in the south quarter of the town. It was meant to be used for contact sword fighting, which was not a hobby I partook in, but I couldn’t resist its elegant, and yet brutal, design.
The blacksmith told me it was the only one they’d had in the shop for many decades, and as a sixteen year old kid with a lot of gold to spare, I decided to buy it. Although not necessarily used in assassination work, there had been a handful of times I used it in combat, and more times I had trained with it.
An assassin was never supposed to engage in melee combat, but I was still well-versed in all elements of weapons training. I wasn’t as well-versed in combat as a true man of arms who didn’t have to split his time between various forms of clandestine murder and could focus on a smaller set of weapons, but I practiced six days a week and for many hours at a time to ensure I could handle most situations.
Though my swords all usually hung from the ceiling collecting dust because my preferred weapons were mounted on the other side of the room.
I took myself over to the other wall where my weapons of choice were stored. They were binded against the walls and hung on a rack that was made of wood and just barely peeked through the fauna that covered the whole wall.
The bows were placed to the right, closest to the glass paned wall, while the arrows rested on the left, closest to the door.
I had a clutter of different bows ranging from recurves to compounds, composites, flatbows, and longbows. My favorite, of course, was the longbow because of its simplicity.
It was the first bow I had trained with, and actually, the first weapon I had ever trained with. Many other assassins took to other weapons and mainly swords, but this was my chosen one.
I had several of these longbows mounted horizontally on the rack. A couple were made from lamentations, but the rest were made from a single piece of wood that had been constructed to arch ever so slightly in the middle. They were the largest of my bows, which meant using them wasn’t always an option depending on how stealthy I had to be, but they were generally my first choice.
One longbow in particular was my go to.
The wood was nothing special, but the bowstring was made from a mixture of silk and rawhide. This gave it a tension and sleekness unlike anything I had grasped my fingers around before. It didn’t have a memory attached to it, but it was second to none in terms of precision, and the arrows I preferred to use with it were my expensive aluminium ones. They were ribbed, bladed arrows with a perfectly triangular point, and they were specialised for archers who liked to shoot long distances.
I had to think about weapons of choice a lot, especially considering this decision was the difference between life and death, and in my instance, I needed to absolutely ensure the latter.
Every kill had to be as swift and clean as possible. One false move could have meant blowing my cover.
This was why my collection of various weapons was so extensive and included a broad array of arrows, too. I rarely used the same design for more than one kill every two months.
Only an amateur would leave a signature like that behind.
I also ensured absolute exclusive use of my weapons with the help of the fauna in my room. If anyone else were to try and handle the objects, the vines would fall over them like an unshakeable cage, but they knew me, so when I stepped closer to them, the plants retracted further into the wall.
I always took a small selection of items with me to train, and today, I chose the compound bow. Then I crossed the room and fumbled around where the swords hung from the ceiling so I could grab my broadsword and a pair of nunchucks. I caught a glimpse of the throwing stars buried under the stems of the plants, and I smirked at the lethal, pronged edges.
The throwing stars were my least favorite weapon of choice. Not because they didn’t look as good, or work as well, but because I preferred a sharp incision over a slash, and throwing stars were better used for the latter. I’d still acquired a big collection of them over the years, though, in case I ever had a reason to rely on them. Some were as red as rubies while others were the color of the night sky, and a few were actually made of pure gold, which wasn’t really the best material to use. Most were made of more ordinary materials like stainless steel, but regardless of their makeup, they mostly collected dust.
I checked the time and saw that seven am was nearing, which meant the start of my training time was fast approaching. I quickly shoved my nunchucks into my satchel, sheathed my broadsword on my belt, and grabbed my quiver of training arrows from the floor before I unlocked my door.
Then I marched out of my room, down the stairs, and through the long, ornate hallway. I followed the corridor past the other bedrooms and the indoor training ground before opening the door to the outdoor space behind the house.
I wasn’t always the first to wake and train, but I was always on time for my sessions.
Sheltered only by the trees, the area behind our estate comprised a whole acre of training ground for us assassins. Master had struck up a deal with the elements of the forest to keep us concealed, and in turn, he got the surrounding woods more rain from the water gods. This meant the trees grew so dense and large out here that from above, nobody could see what we were doing.
A huge wall that stood fifteen feet high surrounded the perimeter while the outside of the wall looked like part of the forest itself. If anyone tried to step close, the screams of the forest would scare them away, so nobody ever found out our building extended as far back as it did.
The inside of the courtyard had concrete flooring the same color as sand, and it was sunken into the ground with a wide platformed ledge around it. The lower area was where we did most of our sparring and fighting practice, but plenty of residents used the surrounding overgrown grounds for any purpose they required in their training.
Our Master would often come and watch us from the platformed edges to ensure our techniques were well-honed, but he only ever trained us himself within the inside training ground.
“Dex,” a woman called out as I made my way toward the farthest side of the courtyard.
I looked over and saw two peasant-looking women, and the one who had called to me only joined the estate not too long ago. She had boils that grew across her rounded face and eyebrows that were gray and wild. Her skin was as thick and as textured as leather, and her calves bulged bigger than any other part of her body.
“Spodium,” I called back to the woman.
She was down in the sparring pit, so her head only reached up to my shin.
“On time yet again,” Spodium chuckled.
“As always.” I smiled back.
The other woman, who was named Incrassatum, gave me a vicious smile and turned back to practice her sword work. She was an unforgiving woman, with harsh, black eyes, and dull hair, and she’d been at the building for many, many years. So, she already knew small-talk wasn’t really encouraged in the training ground.
I humorously gave into Spodium, though, because she was still new and learning. She had a childlike sense of wonder and carried around her introductory sword as if it was made out of explosives.
“We’re just doing some sword work,” she said with a nod of excitement. “Second day. Any tips?”
“A sword is only as strong as the person who holds it,” I said and crouched down to meet her eye line. “Don’t be afraid of being tough and strong. I know for human women in this kingdom, these sorts of things are seen as negative qualities, but here, it is a sign of honor, and you shouldn’t forget that.”
“That’s really good.” She nodded as if I had just told her the secrets of the universe. “Anything else?”
I thought for a moment, and then I smirked. “Just try not to fuck up.”
I quickly stood up as she muttered thank yous under her breath, and her sparring instructor spat on the ground before insisting they get back to their work.
Spodium struck the sword heavy-handedly toward Incrassatum, who easily swiped it away from her, causing the sword to fly through the air and then hit the floor. The twang of the metal hitting the ground echoed through the training ground, and Spodium gasped with embarrassment.
“Sorry!” she groaned.
“Hmm,” Incrassatum snarled as she reached to pick up the sword, and she sent me a displeased look.
I offered a light shrug in return.
They started to fight again, but this time, Spodium was lighter and more agile. She was shaken up by the embarrassment of her previous try, but her swipes were still vicious and thoughtless. She would need lots more practice before she would be allowed on the field.
I mentally took note of her strength and spirit, though, and I knew she could be a valuable resident if she learned to clean up her technique. Strong and peasant-like women had always done well in our business. No one ever suspected they were sitting around and begging in the streets just to kill a nobleman, least of all the nobleman himself.
“Just watch me,” Incrassatum said in a huff.
She took the sword off the woman and held one blade in each hand while Spodium stood back and waited for her trainer to teach her some tricks.
And there was certainly a lot to learn from a woman like Incrassatum.
Incrassatum was the toughest woman of the estate and a woman who took no prisoners. She would inflict the most gruesome deaths on those who deserved it, too, and was the one the Master would send if anything grossly illicit had been done by the target. This way, we ensured the worst of the kingdom suffered the slowest and most painful deaths.
Incrassatum excelled at work like this.
She was a straight talker, and a straight killer, but she was also one of the best trainers we had.
In our line of business, we couldn’t afford to be lax, especially when introducing a new person into our estate. They couldn’t learn that we would give them leeway, and they couldn’t learn that it was okay to miss their shot. They had to know this job was unforgiving, and so were the people who worked here.
Incrassatum was the best person to ingrain the ideals of the estate quickly and effectively. She put fear in those who dared to step out of place, and her unassuming looks made her even deadlier when she did.
“Watch me, girl,” Incrassatum repeated in her usual cold tone. “See how I’m moving the sword as if it is part of my body?”
She swirled the sword up and down with the rhythms of her body, before stabbing it into the air as if there was a person there.
“Like that, see?” Incrassatum said to her student.
“I see,” Spodium mumbled.
“It’s all one swift movement,” she continued. “Up and down, around, and stab. You want to be quick but agile. If you just start waving it around, you will not be persistent with your movements, and you will not be able to handle where it goes.”
She tossed the sword back to Spodium and started doing the movements for her to mirror.
“Movements first,” Incrassatum growled in a dismissive tone.
“Yes, ma’am,” Spodium quickly agreed.
Even though she was harsh, it was apparent Incrassatum cared deeply about the training process. She was thorough and precise, and she would never let someone out on the field if they were not truly ready.
“Like this?” Spodium asked as she gave it a somewhat nervous attempt.
“Yes,” I assured her from the sidelines. “But more confidently. Shoulders back. Now, bring those movements to life and use the space around you… not so rigid. That’s it.”
I continued to watch as Spodium started to move more fluidly with her weapon, and her torso glided from left to right as she became more confident in her position. Even Incrassatum spared a small nod of approval, and she gave the woman a moment to find her paces before she continued.
“Okay, now I’m going to jump in with a sword and you have to combat me using those same movements,” the trainer said and started to lightly slash the sword against hers. “Keep the movements.”
I was impressed with how quickly the trainee was already showing improvement, but I’d expected as much. Most women of determination proved to be good students among us, and Spodium was built sturdy enough to grow into a force to be reckoned with. Within another few minutes, her stubborn focus on effort outweighed her nerves, and I had a feeling Incrassatum would be pleased with the woman within the next couple months.
I left the pair to their sparring match and headed to the far back edge of the grounds to train alone.
Not that I always trained without a partner, but I’d generally found I did better alone. This was true in my training as well as in my work, and these days, if I did pair up with someone, it was to help them learn a bit. I never minded helping the other residents of the estate, but that wasn’t what I had in mind today.
Especially after discovering I was in line to take the place of Master. Now, my training meant more than ever.
But as I approached my usual spot, I noticed a silhouette hidden in the shadowed corner. It was a smallish child, and I recognized him as one of the three kids in our estate. He’d been here for under a year, as far I could recall, but I’d never had reason to speak with him before.
“Hello?” I said as I came to a stop.
“You are Dex, right?” he asked.
The young child slid out of the shadows and into the light where I could see him a little better. He looked about eleven, had a huge mop of dark hair that fell over his eyes and rounded cheeks, and was quite thin for his age. His cotton overalls were stained with sweat and a little bit of blood, though, so I assumed he must have started his training, even though I’d never seen him on the outside grounds before.
“Yes, I’m Dex,” I returned. “What’s the matter?”
“Master has assigned me to train with you today,” he said in a small, stoic voice. “He said you will be taking over my training from now on.”
“Uh…” I swung my head back to the building to look for the Master, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Alright then, sure. Do you have any weapons on you?”
I had wanted to train alone today, but instead of complaining about it, I saw it as a teaching opportunity.
“Yes,” he smiled and marched back over to the shadows where he pulled out a sword that stood almost half as tall as him.
“So, who has been training you so far?” I asked the boy as he approached again.
“Master at first,” the boy answered. “Then yesterday it was Pamphrus, but we weren’t a good fit, so the Master said I should try you.”
“Right,” I said as I carefully jumped into the pit and placed all my weapons except my sword behind me. “Let’s start, then. Nothing too strict, yet. I just need to get an idea of where you’re starting from.”
I held up my sword as he held up his, and we began to parry with each other while our blades hit with only a light force at first. I noticed that his form was impeccable for a boy of such a young age and with such a heavy weapon. We swung our swords back and forth while the rest of the assassins trickled into the training ground and started their days’ practice, and the kid was quick to try his hand at some light footwork, even though he tripped quite a lot in the effort.
Pamphrus himself came near us and gave the boy a disconcerting look before he set himself up to practice his axe-throwing skills in the rugged grounds above the ledge. He had tattoos circling his biceps, and a few long strands formed in the center of his chin to make a beard. Both sides of his head were shaved while a bun of hair was tied tight at the top, and his eyes were always dark and blackened around the edges with coal.
“Be careful with that one,” Pamphurus shouted over to us. “He’s still way too wet behind the ears for that kind of swordplay.”
“He’s doing good,” I replied, though I kept my eyes focused on the button-nosed boy and gave him a smile.
“Thanks,” the kid chirped.
Pamphrus scoffed and continued to throw the axe into the thick trunk of a nearby tree, and every time he split the bark, he’d wrench the blade free and wait for the wood to repair itself before hurling the axe at it again.
The boy and I continued to parry as the noise of blades clashing became louder all over the grounds. He was powerful with his sword, and with every slash, I challenged him more until we were fighting as if we were in battle with each other. Well, as much of a battle as I would risk with a kid his age.
“You are a bit experienced,” I shouted above the clanging of blades. “How long have you been practicing?”
“Since I arrived six months ago,” he called back.
“You show more experience than I’d expect of someone with only half a year’s practice,” I told him.
My words made him smile, and he continued to swing his sword harder. I was still only using an ounce of my true strength against him, but I could see a cocky glint coming to his eyes, and I smirked as I recognized the carelessness seeping into his movements. The longer we sparred, the less deliberate his swordwork became, and I spotted at least fifteen mistakes he was making.
He really was wet behind the ears.
“Let’s step this up a bit, then,” I said and raised my eyebrow.
Then I dodged his next strike, twisted away toward the back wall, ran up it, and flipped over as my sword swung in a three-sixty over me. I pushed my heels into the ground the moment I landed and rushed toward the boy with all my force and my blade raised.
The kid was quick, and he blocked my swipe before he slid on his legs and pushed himself between mine to get out of range. Before he managed to stand up, though, I flipped around, and with one quick motion, I slammed the sword down against the floor right next to his shoulder.
The boy's breaths came rapidly as I stood over his body and smirked.
“If you were in combat, I would have just killed you,” I remarked and pulled the sword back.
Then I stationed it just over his neck, and he took a big gulp and looked me in my bulging eyes.
“Get up,” I instructed him.. “You’re good, but let’s not get too careless. Let’s go again.”
The boy scrambled to his feet, and we faced each other on opposite sides of the fighting pit while I gave him the count.
“One, two,” I said and held my sword in position. “Three!”
The boy ran toward me with full pelt and let out a hard grunt. He swerved around me and used the platform to jump up onto and then jump off of.
“Arrghhh!” he yelled as he attempted to plummet the sword into my head.
I dashed out of the way, and with one quick swoop of my feet, I buckled his knees and watched as he fell to the ground again.
Redness came over him, but then a strange shade of gray passed over his forehead.
“No!” he gasped.
Suddenly the air around him went gray, and a wisp of dark fog began to rise around his head. It looked like the smoke from a flame that had just been extinguished, but inside the smoke was the image of a lost soul.
Its eyes were dark and lifeless, and its mouth was nothing more than a gaping black hole.
Small screams started to billow from the eerie face, as if the soul was burning, and it rushed through my ears and made me drop my sword. It was so deafening that the screams made my mind go blank, and for a moment, I felt like I’d been drained of all my memories and of everything I was.
The boy started to panic as the noises grew louder, and the wisp billowing from him became bigger. It started to coil around his neck and twist, and he cried out in pain.
“Calm!” I shouted. “Just calm down and breathe.”
“I fuckin’ told you,” Pamphrus snarled in my direction.
I turned and saw Pamphrus held his hands over his eyes and pushed into his sockets. It seemed he was far enough away from us to not bear the brunt of whatever was happening, but he was still affected enough to go as pale as a sheet.
Suddenly, the boy let out another scream, which caused the wisp to fly off from his neck and shoot in my direction.
I managed to dodge it and watched as the strange, smoky orb circled back around and landed on the debilitated child.
“I can’t!” he screamed. “It’s hurting me!”
“Stop screaming!” I demanded. “Stop shouting and let your body go limp.”
“I can’t!” he repeated.
“Just trust me,” I yelled. “Do it!”
The boy took a gulp and layed down on the floor of the pit and let his body stay as lifeless as he could. He was shaking all over and kept his eyes tightly shut, but slowly, the dark entity started to lift from him. Then it floated up into the sky, and as the deafening screams finally ceased, it disappeared altogether.
The boy shakily sat up from his position, and he braced his palms on his knees as he tried to gather his breath.
I swiftly sheathed my sword and ran to the boy.
“Are you alright?” I asked him. “Do you know what that was? I’ve never seen it before.”
“I know,” Pamphrus snarled. “It’s from him. He pulled that shit yesterday, too.”
“Phamphrus,” I shot a stern look toward him.
“What?” he replied. “He could have murdered the both of us, and you know how important we are around here.”
Pamphrus was a strong man, but even his massive stature couldn’t hide the fact that he was terrified of the small boy who sat just a few feet away from him.
I continued to warn the tattooed man with a look, and he eventually rolled his eyes and went back to practicing his combat.
“Well?” I asked the boy. “What was all that about?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It happens sometimes. I can’t control it.”
“That mist just strikes on its own?” I clarified.
“Yes,” the boy nodded and looked sorrowfully at his small wrists.
“Has the Master seen?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Master said he didn’t have time to train me properly, but it’s something he’s seen before.”
“Does he know what it is exactly?” I pressed.
“He said that I should be the one to find out for myself,” the boy retorted as his shoulders slumped. “But I think it might kill me before I ever do.”
“Hmm,” I mused, and I searched his neck for any sign the darkened wisp might have left behind, but there was nothing. Then I looked toward the sky to see if the eerie orb had returned, but the air was clear. “Does it happen often?”
“Quite frequently,” the boy responded. “Usually, it isn’t as bad as this. It’s only when I’m angry or frustrated that the smoke tries to hurt me like that. Even then, though… I’ve never thought it would really hurt me. It really hurt me just now.”
“I see.” I nodded. “What is it like the other times?”
“Sometimes, it just appears and follows me around for a bit,” the kid explained. “There’s times when I don’t even notice it’s there until I see it disappearing. Other times, it kind of clings onto me a bit and won’t leave me be. It depends what it’s feeling on the day, I suppose, but it used to happen barely ever. Maybe once a month, I don’t know for sure. For the past year, it’s been coming more and more often.”
“As in…” I led.
“Maybe once every two days,” he confessed.
I pushed my teeth together and allowed the wind to pass through the gaps. I tried not to let my concern show on my face, and I knew the kid wouldn’t be able to read me, but I couldn’t shake the phantom feeling of the emptiness the strange wisp forced on me.
“If you ask me, he’s been cursed,” Pamphrus interrupted.
“C-Cursed?” the boy stuttered.
“Pamphrus,” I scolded again. “Let’s not make harsh judgements if we don’t know for sure.”
“Fine,” he huffed and threw the axe against the tree once more.
“D-Do you think I'm cursed?” the boy asked me.
“I cannot say,” I admitted. “I have never seen anything like this before apart from maybe…”
And then I finally understood what was going on.
This boy was a conjurer, but not a simple conjurer from the estate on the other side of the kingdom.
He was also a mage.
I could tell because he needed nothing other than himself to call up this spirit, instead of just using fetishes, totems, and idols like most conjurers, and he was clearly too powerful for his own good already, but he reminded me of myself a bit.
There was a time in my life when I couldn't control my mirrors. If I brushed up against any human or humanoid, I would transform into them in a matter of seconds. Training this out of me was difficult, but I also had no one to follow.
This boy was special in a similar way, but there were plenty of other conjurers walking around this kingdom. I concluded this was why the Master didn’t shelter him from the rest of us in the same way he’d done with me.
And why he had sent the kid to train with me at last.
There were clearly enormous risks surrounding the boy’s powers.
My best guess was that the darkness he conjured was the spirits themselves, but he didn’t really know how to conjure them or which ones to conjure specifically. He was far more dangerous than any of us weapon-wielding assassins because he didn’t even understand who he was yet.
The Master never brought anyone into the estate residency by accident, either, and I knew there was a deeper reason as to why the boy ended up in our care one day.
“How did you come to the estate?” I asked the boy.
“I was an orphan,” he admitted with a half-hearted shrug.
“I was an orphan too,” I replied as I gave him a small smile. “And I’m guessing that, like me, the Master noticed something special in you?”
“Well, not really.” He scratched his head. “Actually, he saved me in a sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gray stuff was coming down on me like a cloud by the edge of the forest,” the boy recalled. “It had only ever happened that heavily twice before, but I was staring at it as it fell from the sky and started wrapping around my feet.”
“And then what?” I pressed.
“Master saw it happening to me,” he said. “I couldn't take my eyes off the thing, like it was forcing me to watch, but the Master managed to get my attention and then banished the cloud himself.”
“I see.” I nodded.
“The Master asked me who I belonged to, and I told him that I belonged to nobody,” the boy continued. “Then he asked me if things like this were normal, and I told him the same thing as I told you. He said I could learn to control the gray stuff one day, and that‘s when he brought me back to the estate. Said that if I ever wanted to leave, I was more than welcome to, and I never had to partake in any training if I didn’t want to, but I did, so… now I’m training, and such.”
“I understand.” I smiled.
I helped the boy stand up and watched as he dusted himself off and then drew his arm across his nose, wiping away the splutter that had exited his mouth when the strange wisp tried to strangle him.
“But he’s trained me well,” the boy hastily added. “Honest, I’ve worked real hard, and I don’t want to leave, and I'm sorry, don’t make me leave. I will try and learn better, it’s just--”
“We’ll train you,” I promised the kid. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Are you sure?” he asked uneasily. “What if I hurt someone?”
“Master knew what surrounded you when you came here,” I reminded him. “He saw you at one of your worst and gave you a chance. This is his estate, his building, and his team, so for as long as he allows you in his home, you shall stay.”
“Thank you,” he meekly replied. “Thank you.”
“I should have asked sooner, but what is your name?” I asked as I studied his moppish hair and pale face.
“Elis, I guess,” the boy answered. “I haven’t found a name that suits me yet, but for now, it is Elis.”
“Well, Elis, let me just say one more thing to you,” I sighed. “You need to work at your powers, otherwise, especially in this line of work, it can mean the difference between life and death. But in saying that, I have no doubt in my mind that you will succeed with this and turn out to be a very fine assassin.”
The boy’s face lit up with my sentiments as he vigorously nodded, but then I heard footsteps approaching from the higher ground above us, and the combat station seemed to go quiet.
The quietness could only mean one thing: the Master was walking in our direction.
“Master Abbot,” I announced and swivelled my body around to meet his feet on the ledge.
“So… you have met the boy,” he said in his same baritone voice, and he folded his hands as he looked down on us both. “Keeps you on your toes, yes?”
“To say the least,” I chuckled.
“Would you mind helping out with the maintenance for a moment?” the Master asked the boy.
“Yes, Master!” Elis chirped, and he dashed off before I could mention what had just happened.
“A conjurer?” I asked once the boy was out of sight.
“And a powerful one at that,” Master Abbot agreed.
“A mage?” I mouthed the words so nobody around me could hear.
The Master nodded and smiled. “I’m sorry to cut off your training session, but I have a job for you.”
“Sure, what is it?” I jumped up on the platform and looked at him in his ageing eyes.
“Just a bit of fun,” Master Abbot said with a small shrug. “I have a dragonkin for you to murder.”
