3, The Guild Of Assassins
Felix’s POV –
I thrust at the old man knowing this fight would be easy. But he brings his staff up in a parry and skilfully uses the other end to slap my wrist so that I drop the knife that I held in that hand.
As he whirls round me, he strikes me with several quick blows that hit me in my joints and I lose my balance and fall to the ground. In desperation and despite all my training, I lash out with my remaining knife, a clumsy move. However, the knife connects and as he pauses to tend to his wound, I creep up on him, seeking to inflict further damage. Anticipating my attack, he whips around me and holds my neck by the spike at the end of his staff.” Dead ” was his only comment before he walks off, as though the duel did not happen.
In a blinding rage, I throw a concealed smaller knife at him and he catches it, turns around and expertly throws it back. I catch and sheath it just before it hits my face. Whoever this man is, he has serious fighting skills. Curiosity gets the better of me and I walk after him. “You will be of use to me.” He says almost as if he had known me my whole life.”What?” I question. “Put simply, I require your skills for a rescue mission. I need you to retrieve a man called Desorath from Baron Richard.”
“Why me?” I question. Feeling for the first time in ages that I was someone other than a newly fledged assassin. ” I need you because of your blood, it is golden and therefore you are one of the few people who can slay the king.” What the ****? Me, Felix, a nobody has just been told that I’m going to have to kill the king and just because my blood is a different colour? What ****** up logic is this?
“Listen here, you old sack of bones, I am not going to kill the king. A baron maybe, but not the ******* king.” I retort in anger. “You will, Felix Valoursson, because I knew your parents and will tell you of them, if you rescue Desorath from Baron Richard. That will be your reward” He coaxes
This man knows my parents. People that left me and I need to know about the beings that created me. Spurred on by the reward, I agree to rescue this guy. The man, who I now know as Quandoren begins his promise by telling me the names of my parents. “Your mother was Nyssa Ravenwing and your father was Valour Dragonheart. Those were their Names of Self and their Names of Birth were Kaolina Halfchild and Valestour Rowansson.” There is no way of verifying the truth in his words and despite this fact I still trust him and take his words to be truthful.
Quandoren grabs me and before I can question what is happening, a fine white mist collects around us and I feel rather than see our bodies folding in on itself. After an indefinite time period, we emerge from the mist and as soon as it disappears, I reel over and empty my stomach of its lunch. The experience of whatever happened was horrible and I realise that I am not in the right camp. I look around me and I find myself in the camp of The Rebellion. I hurry along to the tent Quandoren has for me and I notice, rather curiously, that people awkwardly bow before me and mutter things at me as I pass by. The few words that I can hear are things like ‘Praimbleda’ and ‘saviour’ or ‘Kingslayer-to-be’ and I assume that word here travels fast.
I continue to walk with Quandoren until we reach my new tent. As we enter, I see that people are already shifting my things over and I stand back as the last of my meagre possessions are deposited. After they all leave, I notice that a man of my age remains, he is engrossed in a book and is making notes on some parchment and then I also see that there is a second bed in the tent where there is a trunk with the name Sameth engraved on it alongside an unknown symbol. I assume that the guy, Sameth, is my tent mate and I greet him “Hello there, I guess we are sharing tents.” He casually replies “Yes, Felix we are, wait where are my manners.” He finally looks me in the eyes and fixes me with his brown gaze” Hello I am Sameth.” He states. His knowledge of my name shocks me and I question him on this further.
“How the **** do you know my name?” I enquire. “I was informed mentally by Quandoren. I also know that you are the Praimbleda” he replies. Okay, so this guy with his unnecessary knowledge of me and his writing supplies must be some kind of scribe. “Are you a scribe or something?” I ask. “I am the apprentice to the Scholar, sent here to chronicle the events of this rebellion.” Sameth corrects.
“Well, its been a long day, I am going to get some rest.” Sameth announces, after putting down the parchment, quill and book. I agree and peel off my tunic. I tease Sameth as I notice that Sameth is staring at my scarred and chiselled abdomen with a weird expression, one of curiosity I guess. “You wish.” He counters before removing his tunic and I notice that the same symbol on his chest has been placed on his sinewy torso, above his heart. “How did you get that?” I enquire, curious as to his tattoo. “It was a mark that shows me as a member of The Scholars Library.” He informs me, pride evident in his voice. I am tired after my long day so we both get to our beds and go to sleep. At first sleep does not claim me and slowly the white landscape of my mind turns black as my regular nightmare claims me.
I am a baby once more and the only thing that is happening are sounds, voices. “My son, my second son.” a voice says. “Look at him, his hair is like mine.” says another. A rush of air, a clap of thunder and the warm, reassuring hands beneath me are removed. There is crying and it takes my adult mind a moment to place it as my own, as a baby, from this memory. But now, a new voice speaks.”Quiet little nephew, Uncle Quandoren has you.” speaks the new person and if his tone is not enough, his words are enough to allow me to place him as Quandoren, my uncle. Out of nowhere comes imagery, a familiar barn and another familiar face, Great Grand-sire Jon, with Quandoren next to him.” He is Valestour’s, huh?” says Jon. Quandoren replies positively. A random time shift and a single word begins the worst part of my night. “DRAKAURYS” Speaks the outcast and now there are flames everywhere. I try to outrun them but burning bodies stop me until I am trapped. From the flames walk the Outcast and he draws back his hood revealing his face – My own. I walk up to myself and a sneer is plastered on the Outcasts scarred face and he slowly reaches out his hand and grasps my neck…..