07-19-2017, 09:29 AM
Did he have a legacy?
Was he remembered in his old world?
…did they remember him here, in this world?
How many years had it been since he had been betrayed? Although it had healed, the wound in his neck still stung when he recalled that final campaign in Silent Hill. The loss of all those companions hung heavy on his heart, but it was the sorcerer turning against him that hurt the most. What had he done to that man to warrant this fate?
The orc was dead—certifiably and unabashedly dead.
As the dwarf watched, the knight limped over to the body, set a foot under its chest, and rolled the corpse onto its back. The human’s eyes said he needed to know that the orc was dead.
A few yards back, Tordeck watched as the third individual, reloading a handheld crossbow, walked over to them. The barbarian—his mind clearing up as the battle rage subsided—knew he was looking at the owner of the quarrel that had been the final nail in the orc's coffin.
Without introducing himself, the new arrival crouched next to the body and looked it over a few times. Meanwhile, the bloodied man had moved over to a nearby cage.
Tordeck, never a scholar, immediately connected the grief in the man's eyes and the sag in his shoulders with the three dead women crammed into the blood-soaked pen. He was experiencing something Tordeck never had or never would—the death of his family.
Given his lack of such background, the dwarf knew he couldn't begin to understand the knight's mindset. He merely watched in silence as the man collected his hammer and used it to bludgeon the lock that sealed the cage. Throwing open the door, the man sobbed as he cradled the limp, still-bleeding corpse of his wife.
After what felt like an eternity of sob-filled silence, it was a new human voice that spoke.
"You've all caused my operation and me a great deal of duress today."
The dwarf spun on his heels to face the strange voice, half-expecting that he would have to battle the silent crossbowman. Instead, the dwarf watched as human in full plate strode from the compound's central tent.
A taut bowstring let out a sudden twang as the cloaked human fired his weapon without so much as a sound. Reflexes that Tordeck would have thought impossible beneath such armor allowed the target of the sudden attack to evade the quarrel and draw his sword before his adversary could reload.
A response came from the cloaked man in the form of a rasping hiss. "Solomon."
With his bastard sword still out in front of him, the man in the armor grinned and pointed the tip of the weapon at his attacker. At the sigh of the weapon, Tordeck felt immediately unnerved. Something about the unnatural sheen of the blade told the dwarven warrior that Solomon did not wield an ordinary sword.
"Your surprise is lost, Assassin." The armored warrior snickered and playfully thrust his weapon toward the crossbowman, who must have surprised the other man by refusing to flinch or even blink. "How ever will you defeat me now?" At that, the cloaked figure pulled back a few paces, but he wasn’t trying to retreat. Tordeck saw the maneuver for what it was—the 'assassin' was trying to mentally map a course that would get him around the swing of the blade and at the man that lay beyond it.
Rather than let the skirmish unfold, Tordeck cleared his throat in his usually obnoxious, boisterous fashion. "Oh, I think I have a bone to pick with anyone who fraternizes with orcs and uses 'em to kill and murder helpless people." To punctuate his threat, the dwarf slammed the flat of his broad axe blade against one of his meaty fists.
From behind the dwarf, the knight rose up from beside his slain wife and pointed his scintillating hammer at the armored warrior. "You shall face the full wrath of Saint Aureus for your actions."
Solomon grit his teeth as the crossbowman took a few steps back to bring himself in line with the knight and dwarf. The assassin grinned beneath his cowl as his fingers closed around the drawstring of his weapon. Despite the blood that covered the two more physically imposing members of the trio, it was clear that little—if any of it—had come from their bodies.
"You can't stop what's already in motion. Killing some orcs and costing us some slaves won't prevent the ritual from as planned!"
The assassin lifted his weapon for another chance, but Solomon punched over a nearby brazier filled with glowing chunks of coal. The ensuring blaze and cloud of ashen dust was distraction enough for the warrior to slip around the other side and vanish from sight.
"He's in full plate, he can't get far if we pursue him!" The cloaked man moved to dash forward when a dwarven fist closed around his wrist. "What are you doing?"
Tordeck frowned beneath his beard and gestured toward the knight, who had discarded his weapon and returned to his dead wife. "The human grieves…we should allow him some time before we leave this place."
"Foolish." The man replied, which elicited a rather incredulous expression from the dwarf. A moment later, however, it seemed the assassin had a change of heart. "Fine…the paladin can have his time to cry, but I'm not going to wait the entire day."
Although the cloaked human stormed off, the dwarf knew the threat of leaving was hollow. Whether he liked it or not, the assassin now had to rely on the assistance of Tordeck and the grieving man if he intended to deal with Solomon and his strange, unnerving blade.
From somewhere behind the dwarf, he heard a faint whimper. A glance over his shoulder let him see that one of the girls inside the cage wasn’t dead. The realization brought the faintest inkling of a smile to the knight’s visage as he rested his dead wife on the ground and moved toward the cage.
Although his youngest had survived, Argento knew nothing would heal the wounds on his soul. Anytime he was left alone with his thoughts he saw the ensanguined visages of his wife and eldest daughter screaming at him from beyond the veil. They were crying for him to save them—desperate for salvation that would never come. Argento squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through Saury's matted curls.
"What's her name?"
The dwarf, his armor shed to reveal a stout barrel-shaped form, leaned over the seated paladin to see the girl. Although he had lost his protective outerwear, the awesome axe he wielded in battle remained strapped to his back.
"Saury." Argento looked up at the dwarf and flashed him a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry, I have no manners…what is your name?"
"Tordeck." The bearded warrior smacked a fist against his chest. "The most undervalued exile of the Dwarveholm Vanguard!" At that, the dwarf let out a series of hearty guffaws, which managed to elicit a chuckle from the downtrodden paladin.
"I am Argento Camarinos of Ceuta."
"What do you do when you're not threatening tin soldiers with white-hot justice, Argento?"
The paladin furrowed his brow, off-put by the dwarf's odd and incredulous word selection. "I am a farmer. I love the feel of the soil and the reward of growing great crops for my family and the community. Not so certain I'll be back for the harvest this year…"
He trailed off then, his eyes moving to the mountains that jutted just a few days forward into the horizon. They both knew their course of action would lead them up through those dangerous peaks. That would come in time. For now, Argento wasn't ready to pick up the pieces of himself and move on with his quest. "You said you're an exile?"
Another fit of hearty laughter befell the dwarf. "That's true. I'm…what'd they say?" There was pregnant pause before Tordeck snapped his fingers and grinned. "A reckless, damnable insubordinate. They threw me out of the army after the Tradesman War and exiled me from my own home! All for doing my part to keep them safe…" The barbarian let out a grunt and reached for his axe. "Might be my own fault, though. This here is all I know." Tordeck held out the axe and smiled at the blood-stained surface.
Argento leaned forward and glanced at the dwarf's weapon. Like his warhammer, the axe had an unnatural luster to it. The blood that had remained after a few wipes with a cloth was burnt on rather than simply dried to the steel. Much like Solomon's sword, the paladin could tell something wasn't normal about the dwarf's axe, but at the end of the day, he knew he'd be better off just keeping the remarks to himself. It'd be very close-minded of him to think that magic weapons—fel or divine—didn't exist outside his own personal sphere of belief.
“This is all I know,” Argento muttered as he placed a hand on the icon of Saint Aureus that dangled down from his neck. “And it may be all I have left,” he added as he brushed some dirty from his unconscious daughter’s emaciated cheek.
The dwarf’s response was a firm one. “We’ll avenge them all.”
“It’s not about vengeance.” The paladin lifted his tear-stained eyes to meet the dwarf’s gaze. “Vengeance only blackens the heart and soul. It’s about justice.”
“Justice, vengeance… it all ends the same way, Tordeck responded as he returned his axe to its makeshift sheath.
“We will have to make sure those who still live are safe before we pursue Solomon.”
Tordek nodded his head as he let his weapon rest against his shoulder like a fishing pole. “I’m going to go pay a visit to our crossbowman.” The paladin nodded his head but didn’t look away from his battered daughter. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more meaningful discussion out of the wounded warrior, the dwarf left him to his contemplations.
The assassin’s scowl never left the mountains that lingered on the horizon. Although his instincts told him to pursue Solomon, Ravik knew he’d be unable to take the renegade guardsman on his own, especially if there was a small army of orcs involved in the equation.
But a paladin? The irony is confounding… With a sigh, Ravik pushed back the sleeve of his right arm to reveal the elegantly crafted bracer.
To a random stranger, it would seem like nothing more than an accessory or a forearm guard, but beneath the steel, the gemstone of the assassin’s arsenal lurked. The missing ring finger stood as a testament to his dedication to perfecting his craft. With that simple sacrifice of flesh, blood, and bone, he had gained the very tool he had used to slay dozens of victims.
Just a matter of separating him from his cronies and that sword. By himself, Ravik would have a great deal of difficulty achieving both goals, but with the barbarian and the paladin, he’d have the proper meat shields at his disposal.
“Deep in thought?”
The deep-throated voice of the dwarf caused the assassin’s left eye to twitch—a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else. Before Ravik could spin to face the axe-wielding solider, Tordeck was already next to him and staring out toward the horizon. “Why do ye think he’s gone through all the trouble to get those orcs?”
Ravik shrugged as he glanced back at the ravaged camp. The tents and carefully constructed palisades had been destroyed in the fight and the ensuing retreat, leaving behind smoldering remains and assorted piles of rubble with incoherent origins.
Given his training and way of life, the assassin rarely bothered to ask the ‘whys’ of a situation. He focused more on the ‘hows’: ‘How to kill the mark’ and ‘how to escape undetected’ were the two questions he cared the most to answer.
“You’re not the least bit curious?” The dwarf prodded as he turned his attention from the landscape to the pallid countenance half-concealed beneath a black hood.
Feeling the dwarf’s eyes on him, Ravik scowled and looked in the other direction. As someone who had spent his life existing in the backdrop, the cutthroat hated being stared at or serving as the center of someone’s attention. He couldn’t feel calm and collected with foreign eyes glued to his every move. “I don’t care.” The assassin spit out after a few moments of lingering silence. “He needs to die.”
“Needs to die? That’s a rather strange way to phrase it.”
“Why are you even out here, Dwarf? The paladin grieves for his family, but you have no clearcut reason to be wandering the Plains of Bone.” While he cared little for the barbarian’s motivations, Ravik figured the question would make him immune to incessant probing for a while longer.
“The orcs threaten my home of Dwarfholm with war, and as long as I have my axe, I won’t allow any greenskins to kill my kin.”
“This is a task for a squad of dwarven warriors, and you are one unkempt, smelly barbarian,” Ravik’s thin lips curled up into a venomous smirk as he turned to glance down at the warrior. “Something tells me the denizens of Dwarfholm want nothing to do with you.”
Despite the scathing nature of the remark, the dwarf threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. “Tordek would never turn his back on his kin, even if they continue to shun him.”
Ravik rolled his eyes and pushed aside part of his cloak that concealed his belt. “Great, I’ve got to rely on a bloodthirsty exile and a disillusioned paladin…I’m sure we’ll just mow down Solomon and his orcish thralls,” as he spoke the words, the rogue was taking a catalog of the small pouches that lined his belt. At some point in the next few hours, he would need to mix fresh poisons for his blades and quarrels.
Oblivious to his new ‘companions’ actions, Tordek took the insult with another laugh and slapped Ravik on the small of the back, staggering him from the shock and impact. “I’m sure our assassin will have a few tricks up his sleeve!”
Damn you, Solomon. The only thing worse to Ravik than being the focus of someone’s prolonged attention was someone understanding the nature of his lifestyle. Oh well, I can always tie up this loose end if I must. As the thought swirled in his head, the man looked down at a tightly secured pouch that contained a gram of black lotus powder—an amount powerful enough to kill a giant. Always have a plan b.
“We should be ready to move on in a day or so,” the barbarian interjected, pulling Ravik’s focus from his belt of vile tricks. “Argento wants to make sure the people here will be safe for a while before we push into the mountains.”
The assassin rolled his eyes as he set a hand on his crossbow. Paladins… Ravik had murdered plenty of the holy soldiers as a member of the guild, and in every incident, he’d been more than happy to remove them. He had no qualms with the notion of believing in structure or order, but there was something the man found off-putting about people who were so self-sacrificing.
A day could make all the difference in a job like this. Even so, Ravik knew he’d have to ‘play the game’ with these people. He needed their help.
Turning around, Ravik looked at the dwarf and nodded his head. “I’ll go see if I can’t round up some provisions.” It was a lie. The assassin had enough dried foods to last for a week in the wild, but he had to find some way to get some peace and quiet if he’d be stuck with these damn people.
The man limped up the sloping hills with his left leg dragging painfully across the rolling terrain. While he had maintained a strong front for those sniveling fools, the reality was that his entire body throbbed. Even know, he could hear the blood sloshing around in his left boot as he dragged the barely responsive limb.
Despite the agony, he knew that the blade would renew him. As long as he clutched the long, elegant blade within his shuddering fists, he would live forever. There was a reason that Bauru had chosen him to wield it.
It knows that I am a man without equal…
Solomon looked down at the sword in his hand. To the untrained, it might seem like just an ordinary blade, but Bauru was anything but a simple weapon. The three eyes set into the steel stared back at the warrior, their unblinking gaze conveying more emotion than he’d ever experienced from another living thing.
In many ways, it was more alive than any person he’d ever known. Anytime he was near it, he could feel what it felt and know what it thought. There was a bond between the two of them that made them as one.
The sword had seen several generations come and go. There had been other hands before Solomon’s, but none of them had been truly worthy to hold the blade. None of them had been capable of drawing out the true potential of Bauru. Not a single one of them had been able to help the sword fulfill its destiny.
All me… Solomon smiled as he dragged himself toward the entrance of the hidden leading to the summit.
I was the only one who was able to the find the book. The only one who was able to find the ingredients for the ritual. The only one who could find a warlock capable of performing the ritual.
He was a man among children. A legend among paupers.
There was no other reason why the blade had chose him.
In the time it took for the assassins to find their way up the mountain, the ritual would have be complete. With any luck, they would arrive in time for him to kill them himself. Nothing would please him and Bauru more than the deaths of those interloping assassins.
I will become a god among men.
After thirty agonizing hours of sitting on their laurels, the group set off for the mountains. In the interim, they’d managed to procure enough horses for themselves and the refugees from the destroyed camp. While the waiting period had taxed Ravik’s will and gone against every instinct in his body, he was happy to have the mounts when they arrived. The horses would cut down on the time it took them to reach actual mountains. After that point, though, they would no longer be useful.
The survivors from the orc camp were off to the southeast, where they would be able to find some temporary sanctuary in a small village a few miles outside the Fields of Bone. The paladin offered promises of returning with mothers or absent children. At first, Ravik thought the man was just giving false hope, but the paladin’s conviction (not to mention his background) wasn’t false. He believed, so the others believed. Some sort of mutual catharsis.
Drivel.
With all of the rabble removed, the group was just Ravik, Argento, and Tordeck. For his part, the assassin remained as quiet as he could. The holy man and the dwarf hadn’t asked him many questions about his occupational history, and he preferred them remaining in the dark until the conclusion of the operation. Once he had Solomon’s head, Ravik could deal with the others in whatever way he saw fit.
“Skinny human!” Tordeck’s thick brogue elicited a twitch from the assassin, who had been lost in his thoughts for the last half hour.
Ravik shot a glance over at the heavily armored warrior. “Yes?”
“Argento and I were just discussing how talented you are with that little crossbow. Where did you learn that?”
The assassin glanced over at the paladin, whose expression seemed to be one of genuine interest. Since the dwarf was too dimwitted to try and lull him into a trap, the pair was probably just trying to ‘chit chat’ with him. The very notion caused Ravik to stifle a groan as he thought over an acceptable lie. “Lived in the woods. My parents wanted to make sure I could hunt well, and the old man always thought a crossbow was more accurate than a bow.”
“Interesting assessment,” Argento responded after a moment of silence as the trio trekked onward, the ground beneath their feet gradually growing more uneven and rocky as they passed up into the foothills of the mountain range. “I never knew my parents. They perished at a young age.”
The assassin swallowed down a bit of bile as he willed his mouth to continue the fruitless conversation. “What happened to them, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Orcs.” The paladin muttered softly as he rested a hand on the holy symbol he wore around his neck. “I was only six years old when life brought me to the church… And now I find my life-blood claimed by the same dishonorable beasts.”
A sharp laugh from the dwarf drew the attention of Ravik and the Argento. When he realized he’d chuckled out loud, Tordeck shook his head. “My damn parents got drunk and accidentally dropped a tunnel onto themselves. The damn idiots,” at that, he resumed a fit of hearty laughter as his companions turned their focus back to the gradually sloping terrain.
In his own stupid way, the dwarf’s inconsiderate outburst had saved Ravik from having to carry on the conversation. Perhaps I won’t put a knife through your spine after all of this, Dwarf.
What he had hoped would be a few minutes of silence blossomed into a beautiful pair of hours marked only by the sound of their boots and the dwarf’s occasional belches. The foothills gave way to actual hills, and as they neared the end of the second hour, the hills became mountains.
If they were going to progress any further, they would need to find a path or resort to climbing up nearly vertical inclines. Since his ‘allies’ were clad in heavy armor, that was probably a terrible idea if the assassin wanted to get them safely to the orcish hideout.
Coming toward an almost thirty-five degree slope, the trio brought their horses to a stop. One by one, they dismounted and grabbed their satchels and various effects from the animals. From this point on, they’d have to move on foot.
Before they started their ascent, the dwarf posed the obvious question. “What the hell do we do with these smelly things?”
Argento smiled faintly and rested a hand on the side of his horse’s snout. Ravik knew that paladins didn’t have normal mounts, and that the all-white creature was probably several lifetime’s smarter than their dwarven companion. “Maximus will escort the other animals to safety before returning to me.”
The assassin suppressed both a snicker and scowl—a difficult task even for someone like him. I don’t see any wings on that thing… Without changing the expression on his visage, Ravik watched the paladin’s mount gracefully turn around on its hind legs and trot down the uneven slope with ease.
A beat later, the two other horses followed after Maximus, although those beasts had far more apprehension in their steps.
It wasn’t until the animals had departed that the group saw the man casually standing ten or twenty yards away from them.
How long has he been there?
Realizing that he’d been spotted, their watcher waved a hand toward them.
“You’re a long way from civilization, Travelers!” Whoever he was, the man wore armored gear made from tanned hides. The presentation and quality indicated someone with a clear amount of talent and experience. On his belt, the man had a few small knives and a compact crossbow a little larger than Ravik’s sidearm. All the weapons were polished and well-maintained, which was more than the assassin could say for his own gear. The stranger smiled and smoothed down his wild brown hair before jogging up to the top of their slope. “Hello, there.” His blue eyes seemed to sparkle.
“Who are ye?” Tordeck demanded, stepping forward and glaring up at the much taller human.
Must be some sort of hunter… Ravik suppressed a scowl as he scanned the man and his body language. He seemed relaxed and unimposing, but what reason would he have to be this far up into the mountains? There weren’t that many people who lived on diets exclusively made of mountain goats and whatever else lived in the caves a thousand feet above their heads.
As if he could read the assassin’s thoughts, the man gave another warm smile. “My name is Darius. I’m a hunter and a tracker who normally makes a living guiding people through the Plains of Bone.”
“What are you doing way out here?” Ravik inquired as he gestured down the slope of the mountain. “Plains are down there.”
Darius flashed a smile but didn’t turn to look at the panorama of half-dead grasslands and bleached skeletons behind the trio. “Truth be told, I heard that there was a party making their way up into the mountains. I ran into a caravan of people. They had quite the story about a trio of heroes who liberated them from the orcs.”
Oh yes, that’s me… The hero.
“Do you know these mountains?” Argento inquired before pointing a gauntleted finger toward the steep slopes that lay above. “We seek an orcish stronghold up near the summit, but we are unfamiliar with the area.”
Ignoring Ravik’s glare as it burned into him, Darius focused his gaze on the paladin, who was the most outwardly pleasant member of the trio. “Of course, I travel through this region every few months. You’ll have to do some climbing with gear, but I can guide you up the most stable parts of this chain.”
“I fear we have no money to reimburse you.”
Darius chuckled softly before shaking his head. “No price. What you did to help those people was noble. I respect noble.”
Tordeck took that moment to let out a hearty guffaw and smack a heavy hand on the tracker’s back. “You are a good man indeed! Let’s be off!”
The assassin remained silent as Darius took the lead. While he wouldn’t voice his concerns, Ravik didn’t trust the man. No one looked that clean and polished if they were willing to offer free services to total strangers.
He continued to float in the ether.
In hindsight, Argento knew that his companions had been deeply flawed individuals. Ravik harbored secrets, and Tordeck was often a slave of his most corrupting emotions. For his part, the paladin had likewise been a fool. His family had been slain, but his youngest daughter had survived the ordeal. He should have taken her home. He should have made his exeunt from that enterprise to retire back to repair Ceuta—it wasn’t as if the people there weren’t likewise in danger and suffering from raids.
Instead, he had pursued Solomon and the sword. At the time, Argento had believed his motives driven by justice.
The world started to shimmer again, taking form once more. With no physical form, the paladin braced his mind as he expected that initial onslaught of sensation following his reawakening on the steppes.
No such solace came. Instead, a grayscale scene unfolded before his weary, ethereal eyes.
It had been most fortuitous that Darius had stumbled upon them when he had. Truly Darius had to have been led to them by Saint Aureus. With the guidance of the hunter, Argento and his new associates were well on their way to locating the orcs and their villainous leader. Due to the intensity of the climb, their words were few and far between, and while he always enjoyed a good conversation, Argento liked that they were focused now on moving as quickly as their bodies could carry them.
“It’s not too far,” Darius remarked from five or six feet above the paladin’s head. The woodsman scrambled up onto the flat surface and reached down to help Argento the remainder of the way. A few yards further down, Tordeck and Ravik were making steady progress.
“How much?” Argento inquired, his gaze turning to the collection of sharp, jagged mountains still hanging overhead. By now, they had to have traveled a few thousand feet toward the roof of the world. The remaining peaks looked more like monstrous brown teeth than natural rock formations.
“We finish scaling the remainder of this cliff. That will take us to a nicer, wider place where we can catch our breath and have a quick meal. After that, we have a much smaller cliff face to scale, and then we’ll pass through a few tight corridors that will take us to a flatter region where the cave networks start.
Before Argento could once again voice his thanks to their guide, the gruff voice of Tordeck called him to the ledge.
“Help me up, Argento!”
With a smile, the paladin twisted, knelt, and offered a gloved hand for his stout companion. A moment later, the dwarf was upright on the wide ledge with the other two men.
A quick glance up at the remainder of the cliff elicited a scowl from the barbarian. “When does this end? I don’t have enough ale to drink off this climb.”
Now, seeing the events play out around him like pages from a book sprung to life, he saw the folly of his ways. It had been vengeance, not justice that drove him up those mountains. It had been a thirst for revenge that saw him hunt a wounded man up into that inhospitable terrain.
They had welcomed that stranger…
Darius.
The name still elicited a scowl from Argento as the memories played out around him.
Tordeck found himself ‘taking up the rear’ for their group once again. He didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t have to physically take anything up the rear, he would do his part to make sure nothing nasty crept up on his new friends.
“This is the last mountain side we have to scale?” He shouted up at the others, who were spread out over twenty yards above him.
“Aye!” Darius shouted down at the dwarf. “Atop this cliff face, the mountains plateau out for a while… just gullies, little slopes, and a labyrinth of caves and tunnels fit to hide a small army.”
Argento, who was about five yards above Tordeck, glanced down and smiled at the dwarf. “I think after this I’m going to need a solid day’s worth of rest to get some feeling back into my body.”
“A hearty mead will do the trick!” Tordeck laughed, knowing that the paladin didn’t imbibe any sort of ‘fun’ beverages. For a human paladin, Argento was a nice person to talk with, even if he didn’t indulge with the dwarf in the finer things like alcoholism and a rich vocabulary of inventive curses. As they neared their destination, the dwarf began to wonder what they would do after they chopped off Solomon’s grimy head. These mountains had to be filled with all kinds of vile monsters, and what was more fun to bond over than a little senseless murder of unintelligent beasts? Argento would need more of that cat-tharsis to move on from the recent events.
Plenty of giants and ogres shitting and pissing all over these mountains. Has to be…
Nothing pleased Tordeck more than cutting an ogre down to size, both literally and figuratively. It’d been too long since he’d met someone he felt comfortable around, and this Argento fellow would make a great friend on the battlefield.
How strange was it that he got along easier with a prudish human who worshiped some frilly god, and his own people thought he was some type of vile filth worth exile?
I’m more dwarf than all of those womanly gits!
The thought brought a grin to Tordeck’s face as he continued to pull himself up the rope. How many dwarves had traveled mountains in this direction?
“Not many!” Tordeck spoke beneath his breath as he took a moment to brush some rock dust from his beard.
From up above, Argento glanced down toward the barbarian. “Did you say something? Are you all right down there, friend?”
“Aye!” Tordeck shouted.
The assassin groaned at the saccharine exchange between his two ‘associates.’ Was this how people were expected to behave when thrust into ludicrous situations with one another? Did they expect Ravik to start exchanging chest thumps and fist bumps with them over pints of ale? The man would rather ramm his own wrist blade up through his skull than degrade himself to such fraternal revelry. The very thought made his stomach twist in knots. With any luck, they’d be done with this business long before that point.
Ravik was just an arm’s length away from their guide, who took a moment to pause right near the top of the cliff face. When he lingered in that position for a few more seconds without voicing any concerns, the assassin scowled. “Is everything all right, Darius?”
The woodsman glanced down, and for the first time, Ravik saw through the handsome facade. He saw the predatory expression in the other man’s eyes and knew that his little group had made a terrible mistake.
“Did you think you could betray the guild so easily, Ravik? Nothing is going to be all right for you.”
With a mechanical hiss, a hidden blade sprung from Darius’ wrapped wrist and cleaved through the rope. Ravik let out a growl and slung his hand up, grabbing onto the other assassin’s boot before the rope lost its tension and and slipped away.
Beneath the cloaked assassin, his makeshift companions scrambled to adjust to the fact that they were falling down a fifty foot cliff face. Armored heavily, both found it hard to simply catch themselves. Argento, one hand desperately scraping along the stone, clutched the icon hanging from his neck and uttered a solemn prayer.
Less composed, Tordeck uttered a string of curses before managing to stall his descent long enough to bury his axe into the thick stone. His free hand grabbed Argento’s dust-covered gauntlet. “I got ye!”
Meanwhile, Darius, dangling from what remained of the rope, scowled as he tried to kick off his intended prey. Ravik, avoiding the hunter’s other foot, let out a snicker as his own blade slid from his free wrist. In a fluid motion, he plunged the blade into Darius’ ankle.
With a grunt, Darius pulled himself and Ravik up over the ledge. As Ravik reared up to strike a blow on the prone huntsman, he found himself staring at a handheld crossbow much like the one dangling from his belt. The assassin twisted his body to evade the bolt, but despite his agility, it got through thick leather padding and sank into his flesh.
A curse found its way from Ravik’s mouth as his attacker scrambled to his feet and started toward the gorge up ahead. Although he felt something not altogether comforting about his wound, the assassin rose and, ignorant or apathetic about the fate of his traveling associates, pursued Darius. Struggling to keep pace, Ravik nearly tripped as he jumped to an uneven patch of the mountainside shelf. A few yards ahead, Darius had paused to reload his weapon. The tracker’s next shot, however, flew wide of its mark as the assassin sprinted forward.
A metal shinck was heard as Ravik’s hidden blade sprung forth again from his wrist guard. Stabbing forward with his trademark weapon, the assassin scowled as his attack was parried by a mirror image around Darius’ wrist. Rolling with the momentum, Ravik spun and swung out with his other elbow, catching the rugged tracker in the chest. His opponent staggered but quickly retaliated with a straight kick that caught the cloaked assassin in the chin.
Stumbling himself, Ravik tensed for a follow up attack that never came. Instead, Darius took the pause in the scuffle to put some distance between himself and his intended prey. Up ahead, the terrain was dotted with trees. The woodsman, reloading his crossbow as he moved, slipped behind cover and launched a bolt.
Ravik dipped and fired back, but his shot sank into the trunk of a tree. Scurrying forward, the assassin reloaded on the move as he eyed the cover for a sign of his adversary.
Pfft!
Eyes wide, Ravik jerked out of the way as the tree behind him ate on oncoming quarrel. Paying no head to the shot that could have ended his life, the assassin lifted his own weapon and scanned the foliage for his foe. When he saw the flash of black and heard the rustling of leaves, he pulled back on the trigger.
There was no satisfying squelch of metal sinking into flesh, so Ravik reloaded and rushed forward, hoping to move parallel to Darius through the trees. He could see the woodsman slinking quickly through the expanse of green and brown, but there wasn’t a good angle on the shot. Whoever he might be in real life, the other assassin knew this area well enough to understand that he could run without being gunned down by even an excellent marksman.
Woods won’t last forever. As the thought swirled in his head, Ravik had to duck as a crossbow quarrel whistled through the air somewhere close by. He didn’t stop to see how close it had been, but when he emerged from the treeline, he paid for his pace. A boot swung down and crashed into his face as Darius dropped down from behind him.
Ravik held back a curse and fired once more, surprising his opponent by managing to score a hit despite being off-balance.
The other assassin let out a curse and fell back once more. This time, he rushed ten yards before slipping down into a tight ravine that separated two higher peaks of the mountain range.
Once he primed another bolt, Ravik pursued his attacker into the tight gorge. He made it about twenty paces before he realized that Darius had vanished. As the assassin paused to process that information, a bolt zipped down at a fifty degree angle toward his chest. Instinctively, the man dropped and the quarrel struck a thicker part of his clothes. While it didn’t find purchase on the skin below, the impact and the shock was enough to cost Ravik his awareness. From up above, Darius let go of his grip on the tight gorge wall and dropped in front of his quarry.
The first punch caught Ravik in the jaw and knocked him down onto his back. Once again, survival instinct kicked in, causing him to tuck his legs up into his chest as Darius lashed forward, this time with his hidden blade primed for the strike. As the woodsman came in, Ravik planted his soles into Darius’ gut, and with a grunt, he redirected his foe up and over him. The other assassin landed on his head with a dull thud.
Rather than the burst of energy he’d expect from having adrenaline surging through him, it took Ravik a little longer to will himself to his feet. As he spun to confront his attacker, his balance faltered for just a moment, causing him to sway briefly before catching himself. It was then that he had a terrifying realization, and despite his best efforts, his eyes went wide as he staggered forward.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Darius snarled as he scrambled up to his feet. “The paralytic burning its way through your veins? Succumb to it, Ravik, and maybe I won’t torture you before you expire.”
Words muddled together in his mouth, and his tongue felt three times large than it was. Instead of a verbal response, Ravik loosed a bolt toward his opponent. With a scowl, Darius tried to get out of the way, but the tight walls of the gorge prevented him from maneuvering enough. The bolt plunged into his left pauldron with a dull thud that knocked him backwards, but despite the close quarters, his reinforced hide armor kept the projectile from biting too deeply into his flesh. Instead of fleeing, the woodsman lifted his wrist blade and rushed forward. It wasn’t until he got within a few paces that he felt his knees suddenly buckle beneath his weight. Surprise spread across Darius’ features as he felt his stomach wrench into a tight knot as the poison crept further into his bloodstream.
“You little bastard,” Darius growled as he planted a hand against the valley wall to try and steady himself. Just yards away, his mark stood and grinned at him, unable to will his muscles into action as the powerful poison burned through him. “Y-you better hope that was your best shit, because I’m going to tear your throat out for this.” For a few more moments, neither man was able to more of his own free will. After a tense, poison-riddled standoff, it was Ravik who staggered forward and threw a sloppy bladed strike at Darius’ skull. The woodsman parried the attack and tried to slam his knee up into his smaller opponent’s gut. With a groan, Ravik lashed out with his empty hand, smacking his opponent across his cleanly shaved visage. A beat later, a blade swung at the exiled assassin, whose head lolled out of the way as the blade tore through his collar
“You missed,” Ravik hissed as his fist found the side of his opponent’s face. Stepping closer to the other assassin, the exile grabbed a handful of Darius’ hair and smashed his would-be killer’s head into the side of the valley wall. He heard something crunch and yanked back Darius’ head to repeat the process. As the other man’s ruined face peeled away from the blood- and flesh-stained rock, a mouthful of spit and blood spattered against Ravik’s face. Everything went red as the assassin shoved away from his opponent and tried to wipe away the moist, ichorous spittle from his eyes.
Even though his vision was blurred, Darius lurched forward and drove his hidden blade through Ravik’s left shoulder. The smaller assassin barely had enough time to shout before an elbow crashed into his jaw. Wrenching his wrist-mounted weapon free, Darius smashed a boot against the stunned man’s chest and sent him toppling backwards. “Farewell, Ravik,” the woodsman rasped as he moved to drive his blade into his target’s heart. Instead, the traitor lifted up both his arms, and Darius caught his victim clutching at the vambrance of his bladed wrist. Before Darius could figure out what the other assassin was doing, Ravik’s hidden blade sprung out from its guard and sank halfway through his would-be killer’s throat.
Scarlet fluids bubbled out from the wound and the mouth of the woodsman as he stumbled back. Eyes wide with horror met the smug grin of the bloody, half-conscious assassin lying on the ground.
Ravik continued to smile as the assassin fell against the side of the valley, his throat sputtering blood with every desperate movement he made. The spurts painted the stone walls as Darius clawed at them to stay upright, but for all his training and a lifetime with the guild, he had just as much blood as any human. After a few more moments of manic spasms, Darius collapsed and fell still against the ground.
Stepping over to the dead man, the victorious assassin knelt down and tore his wrist blade out from the throat of the corpse.
One of the many things which had ‘endeared’ Ravik with the masters at the guild was his fondness for altering any and all pieces of equipment they gave him. The old bastards acted like their unadaptive, unaltered designs were holy artifacts. All it took was the incorporation of a few grooves at the base of the blade and a little release mechanism.
With a gentle click, the blade locked back into place, and a beat later, Ravik threw the other trigger and watched it slip back into the concealed vambrance. Once that was settled, he looked down at the corpse and grabbed for the pouch around its waist. Quickly rifling through its contents revealed a few unlabeled vials of poisons and a letter rolled tightly into a tiny scroll.
“Your mark is a traitor to our guild. A man by the name of Ravik. He was last seen fleeing toward the Plains of Bone. He should be considered extremely dangerous and should be terminated with extreme prejudice. If he has surrounded himself with associates, they should likewise be exterminated. Leave no witness. Leave no loose ends. Pay shall amount to the sum of five hundred gold pieces to be delivered upon proof of the mark’s expiration. Go with deadly grace. ~J.
“That’s all I’m worth? Five hundred?” Despite the fact that he still felt numb from poison and the loss of so much blood, that line from the letter annoyed Ravik more than anything else. The grandmaster thought he was worth little more than a low-ranking politician or a shopkeeper? Grimy, bloody fingers crushed the letter into a tiny ball as Ravik started back toward where his associates had been before the unfortunate turn of events. If anything, his killing of Darius would buy him a month or two without a guild assassin trying to stick a knife in his back. The next messenger scroll better state that he was worth ten times the previous amount, or Ravik would start to consider a little more direct backlash against his former home.
Betrayal was such a foreign experience for Argento. Almost all of his life had been spent around the same close-knit community of merchants, farmers, clergymen, and businessmen. Everyone who lived around him was his friend on some level, and Ceuta had one of the lowest crime rates in the region. That was one of the many reasons why he was so passionate about the work he did. Nothing motivated someone more than having an entire community who propped you up when you fell down but also shared every small victory with you.
So it was hard to deal with the fact that the woodsman—Assassin… he was an assassin—had betrayed them after nearly an entire afternoon of helping them to navigate through tight canyons and up steep rock walls. If it had been his plan all along to do them harm than why had he bothered with such pretenses of chivalry and charity? He could have just as easily shot them in the back or accidentally knocked them off a tight ledge overlooking a steep drop. The fact that he had been toying with them the entire afternoon…
I should have noticed… I should have been able to detect the malice in his heart.
His training should have prevented this. Had his god turned a blind eye to him? Had this been some sort of test? If it was a test, then Argento feared that he had failed in a spectacular fashion. Even worse than the doubt in his heart, his grip on a fragile stone outcropping was fading, and the moment his fingers gave, he would plunge another eighty feet onto an assortment of jagged rock formations.
From just below him, Argento heard the dwarf shout up to him. “I can’t hold on much longer! This is a real shitty situation, my friend.”
Despite himself, the paladin smiled at his new friend’s frankness. “Yes… your assessment is quite valid.”
Tordeck chuckled despite the fact that he was likewise clinging to shallow fissures in old, weathered stone. “I don’t think your god will smite you if you say ‘Fuck yes’ once or twice, Paladin.”
“Given our situation, I’d rather not test that theory, Tordeck.”
There was a brief pause.
“Aye, good point.”
Just as he was about to resign himself to their fate, a slight shadow fell over Argento. Glancing up, the paladin saw the lithe figure of their third companion leaning over the top of the cliff wall.
“You two look like you could use some help,” he muttered as he tossed a line of rope down the side of the cliff. The cord draped across the back of the paladin, who would have clutched at the icon on his chest had his hands been free.
I knew you hadn’t forsaken me…
How could Argento have forgotten the tracker who had betrayed them? Even years after the fact, the events still twisted a knot in the paladin’s stomach. A seemingly benevolent stranger had strung them along and brought them within arm’s reach of their goal. It was on that precipice that Darius had betrayed them, and while Argento never resolved the man’s motives, it was the act itself that hurt worse than whatever motive may have been behind it.
His memories of Darius should have tempered his partnership with the sorcerer and the Spartan. Instead, Argento had once again colluded with unsavory and sinister elements. The woodsman had been felled by Ravik… Shang Tsung had driven a blade through the paladin’s throat and sent him to this blasphemous place.
I am a fool with no equal...
Was he remembered in his old world?
…did they remember him here, in this world?
How many years had it been since he had been betrayed? Although it had healed, the wound in his neck still stung when he recalled that final campaign in Silent Hill. The loss of all those companions hung heavy on his heart, but it was the sorcerer turning against him that hurt the most. What had he done to that man to warrant this fate?
*
The orc was dead—certifiably and unabashedly dead.
As the dwarf watched, the knight limped over to the body, set a foot under its chest, and rolled the corpse onto its back. The human’s eyes said he needed to know that the orc was dead.
A few yards back, Tordeck watched as the third individual, reloading a handheld crossbow, walked over to them. The barbarian—his mind clearing up as the battle rage subsided—knew he was looking at the owner of the quarrel that had been the final nail in the orc's coffin.
Without introducing himself, the new arrival crouched next to the body and looked it over a few times. Meanwhile, the bloodied man had moved over to a nearby cage.
Tordeck, never a scholar, immediately connected the grief in the man's eyes and the sag in his shoulders with the three dead women crammed into the blood-soaked pen. He was experiencing something Tordeck never had or never would—the death of his family.
Given his lack of such background, the dwarf knew he couldn't begin to understand the knight's mindset. He merely watched in silence as the man collected his hammer and used it to bludgeon the lock that sealed the cage. Throwing open the door, the man sobbed as he cradled the limp, still-bleeding corpse of his wife.
After what felt like an eternity of sob-filled silence, it was a new human voice that spoke.
"You've all caused my operation and me a great deal of duress today."
The dwarf spun on his heels to face the strange voice, half-expecting that he would have to battle the silent crossbowman. Instead, the dwarf watched as human in full plate strode from the compound's central tent.
A taut bowstring let out a sudden twang as the cloaked human fired his weapon without so much as a sound. Reflexes that Tordeck would have thought impossible beneath such armor allowed the target of the sudden attack to evade the quarrel and draw his sword before his adversary could reload.
A response came from the cloaked man in the form of a rasping hiss. "Solomon."
With his bastard sword still out in front of him, the man in the armor grinned and pointed the tip of the weapon at his attacker. At the sigh of the weapon, Tordeck felt immediately unnerved. Something about the unnatural sheen of the blade told the dwarven warrior that Solomon did not wield an ordinary sword.
"Your surprise is lost, Assassin." The armored warrior snickered and playfully thrust his weapon toward the crossbowman, who must have surprised the other man by refusing to flinch or even blink. "How ever will you defeat me now?" At that, the cloaked figure pulled back a few paces, but he wasn’t trying to retreat. Tordeck saw the maneuver for what it was—the 'assassin' was trying to mentally map a course that would get him around the swing of the blade and at the man that lay beyond it.
Rather than let the skirmish unfold, Tordeck cleared his throat in his usually obnoxious, boisterous fashion. "Oh, I think I have a bone to pick with anyone who fraternizes with orcs and uses 'em to kill and murder helpless people." To punctuate his threat, the dwarf slammed the flat of his broad axe blade against one of his meaty fists.
From behind the dwarf, the knight rose up from beside his slain wife and pointed his scintillating hammer at the armored warrior. "You shall face the full wrath of Saint Aureus for your actions."
Solomon grit his teeth as the crossbowman took a few steps back to bring himself in line with the knight and dwarf. The assassin grinned beneath his cowl as his fingers closed around the drawstring of his weapon. Despite the blood that covered the two more physically imposing members of the trio, it was clear that little—if any of it—had come from their bodies.
"You can't stop what's already in motion. Killing some orcs and costing us some slaves won't prevent the ritual from as planned!"
The assassin lifted his weapon for another chance, but Solomon punched over a nearby brazier filled with glowing chunks of coal. The ensuring blaze and cloud of ashen dust was distraction enough for the warrior to slip around the other side and vanish from sight.
"He's in full plate, he can't get far if we pursue him!" The cloaked man moved to dash forward when a dwarven fist closed around his wrist. "What are you doing?"
Tordeck frowned beneath his beard and gestured toward the knight, who had discarded his weapon and returned to his dead wife. "The human grieves…we should allow him some time before we leave this place."
"Foolish." The man replied, which elicited a rather incredulous expression from the dwarf. A moment later, however, it seemed the assassin had a change of heart. "Fine…the paladin can have his time to cry, but I'm not going to wait the entire day."
Although the cloaked human stormed off, the dwarf knew the threat of leaving was hollow. Whether he liked it or not, the assassin now had to rely on the assistance of Tordeck and the grieving man if he intended to deal with Solomon and his strange, unnerving blade.
From somewhere behind the dwarf, he heard a faint whimper. A glance over his shoulder let him see that one of the girls inside the cage wasn’t dead. The realization brought the faintest inkling of a smile to the knight’s visage as he rested his dead wife on the ground and moved toward the cage.
***
Although his youngest had survived, Argento knew nothing would heal the wounds on his soul. Anytime he was left alone with his thoughts he saw the ensanguined visages of his wife and eldest daughter screaming at him from beyond the veil. They were crying for him to save them—desperate for salvation that would never come. Argento squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through Saury's matted curls.
"What's her name?"
The dwarf, his armor shed to reveal a stout barrel-shaped form, leaned over the seated paladin to see the girl. Although he had lost his protective outerwear, the awesome axe he wielded in battle remained strapped to his back.
"Saury." Argento looked up at the dwarf and flashed him a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry, I have no manners…what is your name?"
"Tordeck." The bearded warrior smacked a fist against his chest. "The most undervalued exile of the Dwarveholm Vanguard!" At that, the dwarf let out a series of hearty guffaws, which managed to elicit a chuckle from the downtrodden paladin.
"I am Argento Camarinos of Ceuta."
"What do you do when you're not threatening tin soldiers with white-hot justice, Argento?"
The paladin furrowed his brow, off-put by the dwarf's odd and incredulous word selection. "I am a farmer. I love the feel of the soil and the reward of growing great crops for my family and the community. Not so certain I'll be back for the harvest this year…"
He trailed off then, his eyes moving to the mountains that jutted just a few days forward into the horizon. They both knew their course of action would lead them up through those dangerous peaks. That would come in time. For now, Argento wasn't ready to pick up the pieces of himself and move on with his quest. "You said you're an exile?"
Another fit of hearty laughter befell the dwarf. "That's true. I'm…what'd they say?" There was pregnant pause before Tordeck snapped his fingers and grinned. "A reckless, damnable insubordinate. They threw me out of the army after the Tradesman War and exiled me from my own home! All for doing my part to keep them safe…" The barbarian let out a grunt and reached for his axe. "Might be my own fault, though. This here is all I know." Tordeck held out the axe and smiled at the blood-stained surface.
Argento leaned forward and glanced at the dwarf's weapon. Like his warhammer, the axe had an unnatural luster to it. The blood that had remained after a few wipes with a cloth was burnt on rather than simply dried to the steel. Much like Solomon's sword, the paladin could tell something wasn't normal about the dwarf's axe, but at the end of the day, he knew he'd be better off just keeping the remarks to himself. It'd be very close-minded of him to think that magic weapons—fel or divine—didn't exist outside his own personal sphere of belief.
“This is all I know,” Argento muttered as he placed a hand on the icon of Saint Aureus that dangled down from his neck. “And it may be all I have left,” he added as he brushed some dirty from his unconscious daughter’s emaciated cheek.
The dwarf’s response was a firm one. “We’ll avenge them all.”
“It’s not about vengeance.” The paladin lifted his tear-stained eyes to meet the dwarf’s gaze. “Vengeance only blackens the heart and soul. It’s about justice.”
“Justice, vengeance… it all ends the same way, Tordeck responded as he returned his axe to its makeshift sheath.
“We will have to make sure those who still live are safe before we pursue Solomon.”
Tordek nodded his head as he let his weapon rest against his shoulder like a fishing pole. “I’m going to go pay a visit to our crossbowman.” The paladin nodded his head but didn’t look away from his battered daughter. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more meaningful discussion out of the wounded warrior, the dwarf left him to his contemplations.
***
The assassin’s scowl never left the mountains that lingered on the horizon. Although his instincts told him to pursue Solomon, Ravik knew he’d be unable to take the renegade guardsman on his own, especially if there was a small army of orcs involved in the equation.
But a paladin? The irony is confounding… With a sigh, Ravik pushed back the sleeve of his right arm to reveal the elegantly crafted bracer.
To a random stranger, it would seem like nothing more than an accessory or a forearm guard, but beneath the steel, the gemstone of the assassin’s arsenal lurked. The missing ring finger stood as a testament to his dedication to perfecting his craft. With that simple sacrifice of flesh, blood, and bone, he had gained the very tool he had used to slay dozens of victims.
Just a matter of separating him from his cronies and that sword. By himself, Ravik would have a great deal of difficulty achieving both goals, but with the barbarian and the paladin, he’d have the proper meat shields at his disposal.
“Deep in thought?”
The deep-throated voice of the dwarf caused the assassin’s left eye to twitch—a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else. Before Ravik could spin to face the axe-wielding solider, Tordeck was already next to him and staring out toward the horizon. “Why do ye think he’s gone through all the trouble to get those orcs?”
Ravik shrugged as he glanced back at the ravaged camp. The tents and carefully constructed palisades had been destroyed in the fight and the ensuing retreat, leaving behind smoldering remains and assorted piles of rubble with incoherent origins.
Given his training and way of life, the assassin rarely bothered to ask the ‘whys’ of a situation. He focused more on the ‘hows’: ‘How to kill the mark’ and ‘how to escape undetected’ were the two questions he cared the most to answer.
“You’re not the least bit curious?” The dwarf prodded as he turned his attention from the landscape to the pallid countenance half-concealed beneath a black hood.
Feeling the dwarf’s eyes on him, Ravik scowled and looked in the other direction. As someone who had spent his life existing in the backdrop, the cutthroat hated being stared at or serving as the center of someone’s attention. He couldn’t feel calm and collected with foreign eyes glued to his every move. “I don’t care.” The assassin spit out after a few moments of lingering silence. “He needs to die.”
“Needs to die? That’s a rather strange way to phrase it.”
“Why are you even out here, Dwarf? The paladin grieves for his family, but you have no clearcut reason to be wandering the Plains of Bone.” While he cared little for the barbarian’s motivations, Ravik figured the question would make him immune to incessant probing for a while longer.
“The orcs threaten my home of Dwarfholm with war, and as long as I have my axe, I won’t allow any greenskins to kill my kin.”
“This is a task for a squad of dwarven warriors, and you are one unkempt, smelly barbarian,” Ravik’s thin lips curled up into a venomous smirk as he turned to glance down at the warrior. “Something tells me the denizens of Dwarfholm want nothing to do with you.”
Despite the scathing nature of the remark, the dwarf threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. “Tordek would never turn his back on his kin, even if they continue to shun him.”
Ravik rolled his eyes and pushed aside part of his cloak that concealed his belt. “Great, I’ve got to rely on a bloodthirsty exile and a disillusioned paladin…I’m sure we’ll just mow down Solomon and his orcish thralls,” as he spoke the words, the rogue was taking a catalog of the small pouches that lined his belt. At some point in the next few hours, he would need to mix fresh poisons for his blades and quarrels.
Oblivious to his new ‘companions’ actions, Tordek took the insult with another laugh and slapped Ravik on the small of the back, staggering him from the shock and impact. “I’m sure our assassin will have a few tricks up his sleeve!”
Damn you, Solomon. The only thing worse to Ravik than being the focus of someone’s prolonged attention was someone understanding the nature of his lifestyle. Oh well, I can always tie up this loose end if I must. As the thought swirled in his head, the man looked down at a tightly secured pouch that contained a gram of black lotus powder—an amount powerful enough to kill a giant. Always have a plan b.
“We should be ready to move on in a day or so,” the barbarian interjected, pulling Ravik’s focus from his belt of vile tricks. “Argento wants to make sure the people here will be safe for a while before we push into the mountains.”
The assassin rolled his eyes as he set a hand on his crossbow. Paladins… Ravik had murdered plenty of the holy soldiers as a member of the guild, and in every incident, he’d been more than happy to remove them. He had no qualms with the notion of believing in structure or order, but there was something the man found off-putting about people who were so self-sacrificing.
A day could make all the difference in a job like this. Even so, Ravik knew he’d have to ‘play the game’ with these people. He needed their help.
Turning around, Ravik looked at the dwarf and nodded his head. “I’ll go see if I can’t round up some provisions.” It was a lie. The assassin had enough dried foods to last for a week in the wild, but he had to find some way to get some peace and quiet if he’d be stuck with these damn people.
***
The man limped up the sloping hills with his left leg dragging painfully across the rolling terrain. While he had maintained a strong front for those sniveling fools, the reality was that his entire body throbbed. Even know, he could hear the blood sloshing around in his left boot as he dragged the barely responsive limb.
Despite the agony, he knew that the blade would renew him. As long as he clutched the long, elegant blade within his shuddering fists, he would live forever. There was a reason that Bauru had chosen him to wield it.
It knows that I am a man without equal…
Solomon looked down at the sword in his hand. To the untrained, it might seem like just an ordinary blade, but Bauru was anything but a simple weapon. The three eyes set into the steel stared back at the warrior, their unblinking gaze conveying more emotion than he’d ever experienced from another living thing.
In many ways, it was more alive than any person he’d ever known. Anytime he was near it, he could feel what it felt and know what it thought. There was a bond between the two of them that made them as one.
The sword had seen several generations come and go. There had been other hands before Solomon’s, but none of them had been truly worthy to hold the blade. None of them had been capable of drawing out the true potential of Bauru. Not a single one of them had been able to help the sword fulfill its destiny.
All me… Solomon smiled as he dragged himself toward the entrance of the hidden leading to the summit.
I was the only one who was able to the find the book. The only one who was able to find the ingredients for the ritual. The only one who could find a warlock capable of performing the ritual.
He was a man among children. A legend among paupers.
There was no other reason why the blade had chose him.
In the time it took for the assassins to find their way up the mountain, the ritual would have be complete. With any luck, they would arrive in time for him to kill them himself. Nothing would please him and Bauru more than the deaths of those interloping assassins.
I will become a god among men.
***
After thirty agonizing hours of sitting on their laurels, the group set off for the mountains. In the interim, they’d managed to procure enough horses for themselves and the refugees from the destroyed camp. While the waiting period had taxed Ravik’s will and gone against every instinct in his body, he was happy to have the mounts when they arrived. The horses would cut down on the time it took them to reach actual mountains. After that point, though, they would no longer be useful.
The survivors from the orc camp were off to the southeast, where they would be able to find some temporary sanctuary in a small village a few miles outside the Fields of Bone. The paladin offered promises of returning with mothers or absent children. At first, Ravik thought the man was just giving false hope, but the paladin’s conviction (not to mention his background) wasn’t false. He believed, so the others believed. Some sort of mutual catharsis.
Drivel.
With all of the rabble removed, the group was just Ravik, Argento, and Tordeck. For his part, the assassin remained as quiet as he could. The holy man and the dwarf hadn’t asked him many questions about his occupational history, and he preferred them remaining in the dark until the conclusion of the operation. Once he had Solomon’s head, Ravik could deal with the others in whatever way he saw fit.
“Skinny human!” Tordeck’s thick brogue elicited a twitch from the assassin, who had been lost in his thoughts for the last half hour.
Ravik shot a glance over at the heavily armored warrior. “Yes?”
“Argento and I were just discussing how talented you are with that little crossbow. Where did you learn that?”
The assassin glanced over at the paladin, whose expression seemed to be one of genuine interest. Since the dwarf was too dimwitted to try and lull him into a trap, the pair was probably just trying to ‘chit chat’ with him. The very notion caused Ravik to stifle a groan as he thought over an acceptable lie. “Lived in the woods. My parents wanted to make sure I could hunt well, and the old man always thought a crossbow was more accurate than a bow.”
“Interesting assessment,” Argento responded after a moment of silence as the trio trekked onward, the ground beneath their feet gradually growing more uneven and rocky as they passed up into the foothills of the mountain range. “I never knew my parents. They perished at a young age.”
The assassin swallowed down a bit of bile as he willed his mouth to continue the fruitless conversation. “What happened to them, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Orcs.” The paladin muttered softly as he rested a hand on the holy symbol he wore around his neck. “I was only six years old when life brought me to the church… And now I find my life-blood claimed by the same dishonorable beasts.”
A sharp laugh from the dwarf drew the attention of Ravik and the Argento. When he realized he’d chuckled out loud, Tordeck shook his head. “My damn parents got drunk and accidentally dropped a tunnel onto themselves. The damn idiots,” at that, he resumed a fit of hearty laughter as his companions turned their focus back to the gradually sloping terrain.
In his own stupid way, the dwarf’s inconsiderate outburst had saved Ravik from having to carry on the conversation. Perhaps I won’t put a knife through your spine after all of this, Dwarf.
What he had hoped would be a few minutes of silence blossomed into a beautiful pair of hours marked only by the sound of their boots and the dwarf’s occasional belches. The foothills gave way to actual hills, and as they neared the end of the second hour, the hills became mountains.
If they were going to progress any further, they would need to find a path or resort to climbing up nearly vertical inclines. Since his ‘allies’ were clad in heavy armor, that was probably a terrible idea if the assassin wanted to get them safely to the orcish hideout.
Coming toward an almost thirty-five degree slope, the trio brought their horses to a stop. One by one, they dismounted and grabbed their satchels and various effects from the animals. From this point on, they’d have to move on foot.
Before they started their ascent, the dwarf posed the obvious question. “What the hell do we do with these smelly things?”
Argento smiled faintly and rested a hand on the side of his horse’s snout. Ravik knew that paladins didn’t have normal mounts, and that the all-white creature was probably several lifetime’s smarter than their dwarven companion. “Maximus will escort the other animals to safety before returning to me.”
The assassin suppressed both a snicker and scowl—a difficult task even for someone like him. I don’t see any wings on that thing… Without changing the expression on his visage, Ravik watched the paladin’s mount gracefully turn around on its hind legs and trot down the uneven slope with ease.
A beat later, the two other horses followed after Maximus, although those beasts had far more apprehension in their steps.
It wasn’t until the animals had departed that the group saw the man casually standing ten or twenty yards away from them.
How long has he been there?
Realizing that he’d been spotted, their watcher waved a hand toward them.
“You’re a long way from civilization, Travelers!” Whoever he was, the man wore armored gear made from tanned hides. The presentation and quality indicated someone with a clear amount of talent and experience. On his belt, the man had a few small knives and a compact crossbow a little larger than Ravik’s sidearm. All the weapons were polished and well-maintained, which was more than the assassin could say for his own gear. The stranger smiled and smoothed down his wild brown hair before jogging up to the top of their slope. “Hello, there.” His blue eyes seemed to sparkle.
“Who are ye?” Tordeck demanded, stepping forward and glaring up at the much taller human.
Must be some sort of hunter… Ravik suppressed a scowl as he scanned the man and his body language. He seemed relaxed and unimposing, but what reason would he have to be this far up into the mountains? There weren’t that many people who lived on diets exclusively made of mountain goats and whatever else lived in the caves a thousand feet above their heads.
As if he could read the assassin’s thoughts, the man gave another warm smile. “My name is Darius. I’m a hunter and a tracker who normally makes a living guiding people through the Plains of Bone.”
“What are you doing way out here?” Ravik inquired as he gestured down the slope of the mountain. “Plains are down there.”
Darius flashed a smile but didn’t turn to look at the panorama of half-dead grasslands and bleached skeletons behind the trio. “Truth be told, I heard that there was a party making their way up into the mountains. I ran into a caravan of people. They had quite the story about a trio of heroes who liberated them from the orcs.”
Oh yes, that’s me… The hero.
“Do you know these mountains?” Argento inquired before pointing a gauntleted finger toward the steep slopes that lay above. “We seek an orcish stronghold up near the summit, but we are unfamiliar with the area.”
Ignoring Ravik’s glare as it burned into him, Darius focused his gaze on the paladin, who was the most outwardly pleasant member of the trio. “Of course, I travel through this region every few months. You’ll have to do some climbing with gear, but I can guide you up the most stable parts of this chain.”
“I fear we have no money to reimburse you.”
Darius chuckled softly before shaking his head. “No price. What you did to help those people was noble. I respect noble.”
Tordeck took that moment to let out a hearty guffaw and smack a heavy hand on the tracker’s back. “You are a good man indeed! Let’s be off!”
The assassin remained silent as Darius took the lead. While he wouldn’t voice his concerns, Ravik didn’t trust the man. No one looked that clean and polished if they were willing to offer free services to total strangers.
*
He continued to float in the ether.
In hindsight, Argento knew that his companions had been deeply flawed individuals. Ravik harbored secrets, and Tordeck was often a slave of his most corrupting emotions. For his part, the paladin had likewise been a fool. His family had been slain, but his youngest daughter had survived the ordeal. He should have taken her home. He should have made his exeunt from that enterprise to retire back to repair Ceuta—it wasn’t as if the people there weren’t likewise in danger and suffering from raids.
Instead, he had pursued Solomon and the sword. At the time, Argento had believed his motives driven by justice.
The world started to shimmer again, taking form once more. With no physical form, the paladin braced his mind as he expected that initial onslaught of sensation following his reawakening on the steppes.
No such solace came. Instead, a grayscale scene unfolded before his weary, ethereal eyes.
*
It had been most fortuitous that Darius had stumbled upon them when he had. Truly Darius had to have been led to them by Saint Aureus. With the guidance of the hunter, Argento and his new associates were well on their way to locating the orcs and their villainous leader. Due to the intensity of the climb, their words were few and far between, and while he always enjoyed a good conversation, Argento liked that they were focused now on moving as quickly as their bodies could carry them.
“It’s not too far,” Darius remarked from five or six feet above the paladin’s head. The woodsman scrambled up onto the flat surface and reached down to help Argento the remainder of the way. A few yards further down, Tordeck and Ravik were making steady progress.
“How much?” Argento inquired, his gaze turning to the collection of sharp, jagged mountains still hanging overhead. By now, they had to have traveled a few thousand feet toward the roof of the world. The remaining peaks looked more like monstrous brown teeth than natural rock formations.
“We finish scaling the remainder of this cliff. That will take us to a nicer, wider place where we can catch our breath and have a quick meal. After that, we have a much smaller cliff face to scale, and then we’ll pass through a few tight corridors that will take us to a flatter region where the cave networks start.
Before Argento could once again voice his thanks to their guide, the gruff voice of Tordeck called him to the ledge.
“Help me up, Argento!”
With a smile, the paladin twisted, knelt, and offered a gloved hand for his stout companion. A moment later, the dwarf was upright on the wide ledge with the other two men.
A quick glance up at the remainder of the cliff elicited a scowl from the barbarian. “When does this end? I don’t have enough ale to drink off this climb.”
*
Now, seeing the events play out around him like pages from a book sprung to life, he saw the folly of his ways. It had been vengeance, not justice that drove him up those mountains. It had been a thirst for revenge that saw him hunt a wounded man up into that inhospitable terrain.
They had welcomed that stranger…
Darius.
The name still elicited a scowl from Argento as the memories played out around him.
*
Tordeck found himself ‘taking up the rear’ for their group once again. He didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t have to physically take anything up the rear, he would do his part to make sure nothing nasty crept up on his new friends.
“This is the last mountain side we have to scale?” He shouted up at the others, who were spread out over twenty yards above him.
“Aye!” Darius shouted down at the dwarf. “Atop this cliff face, the mountains plateau out for a while… just gullies, little slopes, and a labyrinth of caves and tunnels fit to hide a small army.”
Argento, who was about five yards above Tordeck, glanced down and smiled at the dwarf. “I think after this I’m going to need a solid day’s worth of rest to get some feeling back into my body.”
“A hearty mead will do the trick!” Tordeck laughed, knowing that the paladin didn’t imbibe any sort of ‘fun’ beverages. For a human paladin, Argento was a nice person to talk with, even if he didn’t indulge with the dwarf in the finer things like alcoholism and a rich vocabulary of inventive curses. As they neared their destination, the dwarf began to wonder what they would do after they chopped off Solomon’s grimy head. These mountains had to be filled with all kinds of vile monsters, and what was more fun to bond over than a little senseless murder of unintelligent beasts? Argento would need more of that cat-tharsis to move on from the recent events.
Plenty of giants and ogres shitting and pissing all over these mountains. Has to be…
Nothing pleased Tordeck more than cutting an ogre down to size, both literally and figuratively. It’d been too long since he’d met someone he felt comfortable around, and this Argento fellow would make a great friend on the battlefield.
How strange was it that he got along easier with a prudish human who worshiped some frilly god, and his own people thought he was some type of vile filth worth exile?
I’m more dwarf than all of those womanly gits!
The thought brought a grin to Tordeck’s face as he continued to pull himself up the rope. How many dwarves had traveled mountains in this direction?
“Not many!” Tordeck spoke beneath his breath as he took a moment to brush some rock dust from his beard.
From up above, Argento glanced down toward the barbarian. “Did you say something? Are you all right down there, friend?”
“Aye!” Tordeck shouted.
***
The assassin groaned at the saccharine exchange between his two ‘associates.’ Was this how people were expected to behave when thrust into ludicrous situations with one another? Did they expect Ravik to start exchanging chest thumps and fist bumps with them over pints of ale? The man would rather ramm his own wrist blade up through his skull than degrade himself to such fraternal revelry. The very thought made his stomach twist in knots. With any luck, they’d be done with this business long before that point.
Ravik was just an arm’s length away from their guide, who took a moment to pause right near the top of the cliff face. When he lingered in that position for a few more seconds without voicing any concerns, the assassin scowled. “Is everything all right, Darius?”
The woodsman glanced down, and for the first time, Ravik saw through the handsome facade. He saw the predatory expression in the other man’s eyes and knew that his little group had made a terrible mistake.
“Did you think you could betray the guild so easily, Ravik? Nothing is going to be all right for you.”
With a mechanical hiss, a hidden blade sprung from Darius’ wrapped wrist and cleaved through the rope. Ravik let out a growl and slung his hand up, grabbing onto the other assassin’s boot before the rope lost its tension and and slipped away.
Beneath the cloaked assassin, his makeshift companions scrambled to adjust to the fact that they were falling down a fifty foot cliff face. Armored heavily, both found it hard to simply catch themselves. Argento, one hand desperately scraping along the stone, clutched the icon hanging from his neck and uttered a solemn prayer.
Less composed, Tordeck uttered a string of curses before managing to stall his descent long enough to bury his axe into the thick stone. His free hand grabbed Argento’s dust-covered gauntlet. “I got ye!”
Meanwhile, Darius, dangling from what remained of the rope, scowled as he tried to kick off his intended prey. Ravik, avoiding the hunter’s other foot, let out a snicker as his own blade slid from his free wrist. In a fluid motion, he plunged the blade into Darius’ ankle.
With a grunt, Darius pulled himself and Ravik up over the ledge. As Ravik reared up to strike a blow on the prone huntsman, he found himself staring at a handheld crossbow much like the one dangling from his belt. The assassin twisted his body to evade the bolt, but despite his agility, it got through thick leather padding and sank into his flesh.
A curse found its way from Ravik’s mouth as his attacker scrambled to his feet and started toward the gorge up ahead. Although he felt something not altogether comforting about his wound, the assassin rose and, ignorant or apathetic about the fate of his traveling associates, pursued Darius. Struggling to keep pace, Ravik nearly tripped as he jumped to an uneven patch of the mountainside shelf. A few yards ahead, Darius had paused to reload his weapon. The tracker’s next shot, however, flew wide of its mark as the assassin sprinted forward.
A metal shinck was heard as Ravik’s hidden blade sprung forth again from his wrist guard. Stabbing forward with his trademark weapon, the assassin scowled as his attack was parried by a mirror image around Darius’ wrist. Rolling with the momentum, Ravik spun and swung out with his other elbow, catching the rugged tracker in the chest. His opponent staggered but quickly retaliated with a straight kick that caught the cloaked assassin in the chin.
Stumbling himself, Ravik tensed for a follow up attack that never came. Instead, Darius took the pause in the scuffle to put some distance between himself and his intended prey. Up ahead, the terrain was dotted with trees. The woodsman, reloading his crossbow as he moved, slipped behind cover and launched a bolt.
Ravik dipped and fired back, but his shot sank into the trunk of a tree. Scurrying forward, the assassin reloaded on the move as he eyed the cover for a sign of his adversary.
Pfft!
Eyes wide, Ravik jerked out of the way as the tree behind him ate on oncoming quarrel. Paying no head to the shot that could have ended his life, the assassin lifted his own weapon and scanned the foliage for his foe. When he saw the flash of black and heard the rustling of leaves, he pulled back on the trigger.
There was no satisfying squelch of metal sinking into flesh, so Ravik reloaded and rushed forward, hoping to move parallel to Darius through the trees. He could see the woodsman slinking quickly through the expanse of green and brown, but there wasn’t a good angle on the shot. Whoever he might be in real life, the other assassin knew this area well enough to understand that he could run without being gunned down by even an excellent marksman.
Woods won’t last forever. As the thought swirled in his head, Ravik had to duck as a crossbow quarrel whistled through the air somewhere close by. He didn’t stop to see how close it had been, but when he emerged from the treeline, he paid for his pace. A boot swung down and crashed into his face as Darius dropped down from behind him.
Ravik held back a curse and fired once more, surprising his opponent by managing to score a hit despite being off-balance.
The other assassin let out a curse and fell back once more. This time, he rushed ten yards before slipping down into a tight ravine that separated two higher peaks of the mountain range.
Once he primed another bolt, Ravik pursued his attacker into the tight gorge. He made it about twenty paces before he realized that Darius had vanished. As the assassin paused to process that information, a bolt zipped down at a fifty degree angle toward his chest. Instinctively, the man dropped and the quarrel struck a thicker part of his clothes. While it didn’t find purchase on the skin below, the impact and the shock was enough to cost Ravik his awareness. From up above, Darius let go of his grip on the tight gorge wall and dropped in front of his quarry.
The first punch caught Ravik in the jaw and knocked him down onto his back. Once again, survival instinct kicked in, causing him to tuck his legs up into his chest as Darius lashed forward, this time with his hidden blade primed for the strike. As the woodsman came in, Ravik planted his soles into Darius’ gut, and with a grunt, he redirected his foe up and over him. The other assassin landed on his head with a dull thud.
Rather than the burst of energy he’d expect from having adrenaline surging through him, it took Ravik a little longer to will himself to his feet. As he spun to confront his attacker, his balance faltered for just a moment, causing him to sway briefly before catching himself. It was then that he had a terrifying realization, and despite his best efforts, his eyes went wide as he staggered forward.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Darius snarled as he scrambled up to his feet. “The paralytic burning its way through your veins? Succumb to it, Ravik, and maybe I won’t torture you before you expire.”
Words muddled together in his mouth, and his tongue felt three times large than it was. Instead of a verbal response, Ravik loosed a bolt toward his opponent. With a scowl, Darius tried to get out of the way, but the tight walls of the gorge prevented him from maneuvering enough. The bolt plunged into his left pauldron with a dull thud that knocked him backwards, but despite the close quarters, his reinforced hide armor kept the projectile from biting too deeply into his flesh. Instead of fleeing, the woodsman lifted his wrist blade and rushed forward. It wasn’t until he got within a few paces that he felt his knees suddenly buckle beneath his weight. Surprise spread across Darius’ features as he felt his stomach wrench into a tight knot as the poison crept further into his bloodstream.
“You little bastard,” Darius growled as he planted a hand against the valley wall to try and steady himself. Just yards away, his mark stood and grinned at him, unable to will his muscles into action as the powerful poison burned through him. “Y-you better hope that was your best shit, because I’m going to tear your throat out for this.” For a few more moments, neither man was able to more of his own free will. After a tense, poison-riddled standoff, it was Ravik who staggered forward and threw a sloppy bladed strike at Darius’ skull. The woodsman parried the attack and tried to slam his knee up into his smaller opponent’s gut. With a groan, Ravik lashed out with his empty hand, smacking his opponent across his cleanly shaved visage. A beat later, a blade swung at the exiled assassin, whose head lolled out of the way as the blade tore through his collar
“You missed,” Ravik hissed as his fist found the side of his opponent’s face. Stepping closer to the other assassin, the exile grabbed a handful of Darius’ hair and smashed his would-be killer’s head into the side of the valley wall. He heard something crunch and yanked back Darius’ head to repeat the process. As the other man’s ruined face peeled away from the blood- and flesh-stained rock, a mouthful of spit and blood spattered against Ravik’s face. Everything went red as the assassin shoved away from his opponent and tried to wipe away the moist, ichorous spittle from his eyes.
Even though his vision was blurred, Darius lurched forward and drove his hidden blade through Ravik’s left shoulder. The smaller assassin barely had enough time to shout before an elbow crashed into his jaw. Wrenching his wrist-mounted weapon free, Darius smashed a boot against the stunned man’s chest and sent him toppling backwards. “Farewell, Ravik,” the woodsman rasped as he moved to drive his blade into his target’s heart. Instead, the traitor lifted up both his arms, and Darius caught his victim clutching at the vambrance of his bladed wrist. Before Darius could figure out what the other assassin was doing, Ravik’s hidden blade sprung out from its guard and sank halfway through his would-be killer’s throat.
Scarlet fluids bubbled out from the wound and the mouth of the woodsman as he stumbled back. Eyes wide with horror met the smug grin of the bloody, half-conscious assassin lying on the ground.
Ravik continued to smile as the assassin fell against the side of the valley, his throat sputtering blood with every desperate movement he made. The spurts painted the stone walls as Darius clawed at them to stay upright, but for all his training and a lifetime with the guild, he had just as much blood as any human. After a few more moments of manic spasms, Darius collapsed and fell still against the ground.
Stepping over to the dead man, the victorious assassin knelt down and tore his wrist blade out from the throat of the corpse.
One of the many things which had ‘endeared’ Ravik with the masters at the guild was his fondness for altering any and all pieces of equipment they gave him. The old bastards acted like their unadaptive, unaltered designs were holy artifacts. All it took was the incorporation of a few grooves at the base of the blade and a little release mechanism.
With a gentle click, the blade locked back into place, and a beat later, Ravik threw the other trigger and watched it slip back into the concealed vambrance. Once that was settled, he looked down at the corpse and grabbed for the pouch around its waist. Quickly rifling through its contents revealed a few unlabeled vials of poisons and a letter rolled tightly into a tiny scroll.
“Your mark is a traitor to our guild. A man by the name of Ravik. He was last seen fleeing toward the Plains of Bone. He should be considered extremely dangerous and should be terminated with extreme prejudice. If he has surrounded himself with associates, they should likewise be exterminated. Leave no witness. Leave no loose ends. Pay shall amount to the sum of five hundred gold pieces to be delivered upon proof of the mark’s expiration. Go with deadly grace. ~J.
“That’s all I’m worth? Five hundred?” Despite the fact that he still felt numb from poison and the loss of so much blood, that line from the letter annoyed Ravik more than anything else. The grandmaster thought he was worth little more than a low-ranking politician or a shopkeeper? Grimy, bloody fingers crushed the letter into a tiny ball as Ravik started back toward where his associates had been before the unfortunate turn of events. If anything, his killing of Darius would buy him a month or two without a guild assassin trying to stick a knife in his back. The next messenger scroll better state that he was worth ten times the previous amount, or Ravik would start to consider a little more direct backlash against his former home.
***
Betrayal was such a foreign experience for Argento. Almost all of his life had been spent around the same close-knit community of merchants, farmers, clergymen, and businessmen. Everyone who lived around him was his friend on some level, and Ceuta had one of the lowest crime rates in the region. That was one of the many reasons why he was so passionate about the work he did. Nothing motivated someone more than having an entire community who propped you up when you fell down but also shared every small victory with you.
So it was hard to deal with the fact that the woodsman—Assassin… he was an assassin—had betrayed them after nearly an entire afternoon of helping them to navigate through tight canyons and up steep rock walls. If it had been his plan all along to do them harm than why had he bothered with such pretenses of chivalry and charity? He could have just as easily shot them in the back or accidentally knocked them off a tight ledge overlooking a steep drop. The fact that he had been toying with them the entire afternoon…
I should have noticed… I should have been able to detect the malice in his heart.
His training should have prevented this. Had his god turned a blind eye to him? Had this been some sort of test? If it was a test, then Argento feared that he had failed in a spectacular fashion. Even worse than the doubt in his heart, his grip on a fragile stone outcropping was fading, and the moment his fingers gave, he would plunge another eighty feet onto an assortment of jagged rock formations.
From just below him, Argento heard the dwarf shout up to him. “I can’t hold on much longer! This is a real shitty situation, my friend.”
Despite himself, the paladin smiled at his new friend’s frankness. “Yes… your assessment is quite valid.”
Tordeck chuckled despite the fact that he was likewise clinging to shallow fissures in old, weathered stone. “I don’t think your god will smite you if you say ‘Fuck yes’ once or twice, Paladin.”
“Given our situation, I’d rather not test that theory, Tordeck.”
There was a brief pause.
“Aye, good point.”
Just as he was about to resign himself to their fate, a slight shadow fell over Argento. Glancing up, the paladin saw the lithe figure of their third companion leaning over the top of the cliff wall.
“You two look like you could use some help,” he muttered as he tossed a line of rope down the side of the cliff. The cord draped across the back of the paladin, who would have clutched at the icon on his chest had his hands been free.
I knew you hadn’t forsaken me…
*
How could Argento have forgotten the tracker who had betrayed them? Even years after the fact, the events still twisted a knot in the paladin’s stomach. A seemingly benevolent stranger had strung them along and brought them within arm’s reach of their goal. It was on that precipice that Darius had betrayed them, and while Argento never resolved the man’s motives, it was the act itself that hurt worse than whatever motive may have been behind it.
His memories of Darius should have tempered his partnership with the sorcerer and the Spartan. Instead, Argento had once again colluded with unsavory and sinister elements. The woodsman had been felled by Ravik… Shang Tsung had driven a blade through the paladin’s throat and sent him to this blasphemous place.
I am a fool with no equal...
![[Image: Shang.jpg]](http://www.omniverse-rpg.com/images/Shang.jpg)