The Assassin's Deal

Part of Chapter 1, introducing the Assassin character.

 

Gaelen Aeroth secured his hood against the howling winds of the hurricane.  Boats rocked wildly in their berths on the wharf.  Rain was pouring as heavily now as it had been for the past few days while he’d been scouting the port city of Portalis.  Summer was never a good time for visiting the city.  Placed as it was on the southern coast, the season always brought at least one major hurricane, several of which had made landfall over the centuries.  It was a mobile city that could be rearranged to suit any kind of weather; it was adaptable.  Perhaps that was why it was the infamous haunt of smugglers, pirates, and other shady sorts.  It was perfect for the sort of clandestine meetings Aeroth was about to attend.

Although he’d spent many years in the city, due to its ever-changing nature, he’d thought it prudent to scout it each time he came here for business.  The docks were the roughest part of the city, and the weather did not detain the desperate.  He’d passed several beggars, some dead, some barely alive, and paid both types no heed.  Those who had to beg were beneath those who had the will to survive, even excel, as he had.  He’d had his share of desperation, and found ways to overcome it.  His hands, drenched in the blood of those who’d stood in his way, supplicated to no one.

The prostitutes he passed knew how to survive.  They offered the one commodity that was always in demand.  However, whoring had its price.  While some w****s could actually become rich, the ones on the street now were foul, diseased streetwalkers, huddled against the tumultuous weather, unable to hawk their wares.  Aeroth knew they were diseased because of  a magical rune he had tattooed on his chest.  As an assassin, it was prudent to know if you’d be coming in contact with tainted blood.

He wended his way through several crowded, littered alleys, making note of escape routes from the place of his meeting.  Anyone who needed to hire a thief and assassin of his skill could not and should not be trusted.  From a pouch, he sprinkled dust at several places along his chosen path.  A magical stone would glow when it neared the dust patches if he got lost, which was always a possibility in Portalis.  Several more pleas for alms came his way, and he had to kick one who became too insistent.  Aeroth glared at the other putrid beggars in the group, daring them to ask again.  None did. 

Satisfied with his scouting, Aeroth headed to his meeting.  As he entered one of the alleys, he felt that he was being watched from the shadows.  He focused his vision and forced it to switch contract, turning light to dark.  The world swirled and settled again into shades of gray, with the alley itself, open to the wind and sky, now black as shadow and the shadows bright as day.  He was surrounded by six goblin thugs.  The wind howled and he didn’t hear them sneaking around him, setting a trap for him.  He cursed himself for a fool for not noticing them, but hurricanes and other storms were the friends of thieves, as he knew well.  The wind whipped and blew back his hood, revealing himself to be an elf to the goblins. 

Tall and slender, with wide, bright eyes and dark hair, Aeroth couldn’t be identified as anything else.  In some cities revealing himself as an elf was enough to warrant suspicion if not outright hostility.  Elves, since the time of the second War of the Three Peoples, had become insular, hostile and xenophobic.  For the past thousand years, few elves ever left the shelter of their forest, far to the north of Portalis.  Those who did were either exiles or criminals, with the occasional adventuresome elf trying his luck in the world outside the wood.  No one entered the forest end left alive who did not have the consent of the elves, which meant that no dwarf or human had journeyed far and lived.  Aeroth himself was a criminal, a deserter.  He had a fairly large price on his head in elven lands, and an even larger one in the wider world.  Aeroth was actually proud of this.  Bounties, among the circles he traveled in, were marks of honor. 

Aeroth, knowing his foe and their number, shifted his sight back to normal.  He could still not hear anything but the wind, rain and the occasional shout.  He didn’t need to now.  The goblins, the eternal enemies of elves, knew their prey and knew how to handle him…well, how to handle normal elves.  Aeroth was not one of those.  He was a merciless killer, assassin of princes.  He weighed his options.  Half a dozen goblins was an easy kill for him, but he did not relish the idea of leaving so many bodies in the street for his trackers to find.  He could run, but that would imply he feared the goblins or that he had something of great value.  Both situations would cause the goblins to double their forces and seek him out.  Aeroth instead opted for intimidation.

Standing tall, to his full six-foot-three height, he glared with his bright violet eyes at the approaching goblins, showing no fear.  Two of the goblins slowed, looking at each other then the apparent leader.  A grunted order in goblin got them moving again.  The whole lot brandished sorry-looking shortswords, with the exception of the archer behind him.  Dressed in rags and assorted bits of armor, they were a motley bunch.  Aeroth sneered and reached for one of the many weapons he carried.  He slowly unsheathed his most prized weapon, a gilchach.  The weapon was of dwarven make, a knife about twelve inches long with a seven-inch blade.  It was wicked looking.  Instead of steel, it was ceramic, tougher than steel and sharper.  The blade would never dull its edge; no matter how many uses it saw.  It was curved and straight at certain points, and was designed to both slash and stab.  A marvel of dwarven engineering, at certain angles, it could do both.   Much harder to craft than a traditional steel weapon, it was given only to the elite among dwarves, in special ceremonies.  Aeroth had stolen it in one of his many adventures, breaking the neck of the sleeping dwarf to whom it belonged.  Its blade was stained with the blood of several victims.

In a show of theatrics, Aeroth held the blade in front of him.  Careful not to lose his grip on it in the wind and rain, he spun it in a practiced flourish and held it backwards, with the blade against his forearm.  He turned slowly in a circle, crouching and daring any of the goblins to attack him.  He spoke a few words in goblin, taunting the now halted group, who narrowed their eyes at him, each waiting for his fellow to initiate the attack.  None did.  The leader of the group, evidently recognizing the type of weapon Aeroth wielded and the danger a skilled user represented, ordered his group to withdraw, which they did gladly.  They ambled off down the alley and disappeared into the curtains of rain which pounded the city.  Aeroth, soaked to the skin, sheathed his weapon and hurried off to his meeting.

Reviews

[Orion Scarlett]

This reads like a published novel! It's extremely gripping, and while I realize this was written a long time ago, I'd love to see another chapter. It seems well developed, and I'm already wondering about the interesting characters we'll meet in this "meeting."

[Mickey Christian Decicc..]

Chapter 2 Coming Soon!

[Calypso]

I love this! It's written so well and with so much clarity!