PROLOGUE

The path the shadowy figure had chosen was long and narrow, moving around the building that was his target. The building had smooth walls made of hard stone, effectively immune to climbing. It would require a hard throw to make any sharp object get caught in this featureless wall of stone that seemed to stand tall and proud, mocking anyone who tried to pass it unaided. But this figure was no ordinary man; he was Kraigon.
Silent as the gentle breeze blowing from the east, he crept through the main gate, the half-asleep guards not even blinking as he passed by them. Torches were set on both sides of the main corridor, meant to spoil any assassination attempt. But this figure was not just a simple assassin; he was Kraigon.
His orders were clear. He was to kill the man who had ordered the execution of his employer's son. Good or evil, young or old; Kraigon had learned to disregard these attributes. He was meant for one thing; to kill.
He drew in a breath and waited in front of a door made of heavy wood, its surface decorated with thin golden lines. At the center, a snake was carved, its mouth open to display its vicious fangs, as though warning any man. To enter uninvited would be to die. But this figure was no ordinary man; he was Kraigon.
There were two guards stationed at either side of the door, their lances held limply in their hands. It was clear they did not expect danger. As far as Kraigon knew, the man was so well guarded inside, that even if one could get through the guards, he would be dead instantly upon entering. Kraigon slipped into the shadows cast by a torch's sconce, and waited patiently, breathing in and out quietly. He waited until a serving girl arrived, tray in hand. The guard on the left removed his lance from her path and she tentatively reached out to open the door. From her uncertain demeanour, it was evident she was new, and she wasn't quite sure of herself. As she slowly stepped into the room, Kraigon crouched, and throwing a coin to the other side of the corridor to distract the guards momentarily, slipped into the room.
The room was lavishly furnished. A bed lay in the center of the room, surrounded with maids and trays. Several torches cast a bright light around the bed, as if to shield it from shadows sneaking up on its occupant. But the shadowy figure that effortlessly scaled the wall was no ordinary shadow; it was Kraigon.
The seemingly invulnerable defences of this man were evident to Kraigon now. He had lit torches all around his bed, which made sneaking up on him quite hard. The maids around him were probably trained warriors that only put up an innocent appearance. Kraigon, however, knew these things too well. After all, he was not ordinary. In their ignorance, the designer of this invincible protection method had forgotten one thing. The walls were cast in shadow.
A knife flew from the hand of the assassin. He seemingly hung from an invisible thread that held him stationary near the wall. However, he was merely holding himself up by his left hand and the tips of his left foot's toes. As the knife flew through the air, straight towards the heart of its intended target, one of the maids reached out and plucked it from the air with practiced ease. She did not seem to believe what she was holding, however, as she gazed down at it with an expression of shock and disbelief. In all these years, no one had attempted to kill the one she was protecting. No one had dared enter the building, let alone to go through all the guards unnoticed. These people were so impressed by their own inventions that didn't realize there had been no assassins, simply because the man hadn't been worth it. Until now.
As the girl looked at the knife in stunned silence for just a second, a second and third knife flew towards the man lying in his death bed. One almost hit his stomach before another maid caught it, but that was just a distraction. The other knife hit the hilt of the first knife the maid was still holding, pushing it down and into the man's heart. No sound escaped his throat, and he didn't move. The room suddenly fell very still. Just for an instant.
“Intruder!” shouted the maids, almost in unison, and guards burst in, looking around with confidence. Very slowly, the gravity of the situation dawned on them. They just realized the shadows that encircled the room, and their eyes darted fearfully from one spot to the next.
In another moment, the whole building was buzzing with guards and scouts, and all doors were barred, and no one, under no circumstances, was meant to leave the building. But the assassin, still pressed against the wall just beneath the ceiling, was still undetected.
Hours passed while Kraigon waited patiently, almost twiddling his thumbs as the building was searched beneath him. The buzz in the building was slowly subsiding, leaving Kraigon an open path to get out quickly. Someone entered the room at that instant, someone Kraigon had not noticed when he was creeping through the building earlier. He was a slender, tall young man, his head bowed and his eyes downcast. No one paid him any attention, and he was as hidden as kraigon, the only difference being that he was on the ground, and Kraigon was hanging by the tips of his fingers and toes. He walked through the room, passing just below Kraigon. At that instant, the hairs on the back of Kraigon's neck all stood on end, as though he was being watched from behind. He didn't dare move, though, he trusted his instincts to alert him if someone tried to kill him from behind. But soon, it was apparent that it was not the sensation of being watched that made him be on edge. It was a gentle breeze that made the torches flicker, and tugged gently at him. Something was wrong about this breeze.
Kraigon didn't move. It had been years that he had not been scared like this, but now, the cold fingers of dread crept down his spine. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
The tug of the breeze grew. Kraigon slid, inch by inch, as he tried to maintain his grip. Suddenly, as quickly as the wind had started, it died down. Almost an instant after Kraigon let out a mental cheer at being relieved from its relentless tugging, he was blasted away from the wall by a burst of wind that hit his face, flinging him backwards. He flew through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. At the last instant, he flipped and landed on the balls of his feet, leaping towards the exit.
“Seize him!” someone ordered, but his face was never glimpsed as Kraigon leapt again and again, his legs carrying him at twice the rate the guards pursued him. He bounded through the corridors, weaving left and right and seeming to know the passages better than the guards stationed within it. Another big mistake had been to station guards at different places, and not allow them to move much and look at the building, in fear of revealing more than a guard has the right to know. This worked to Kraigon's advantage, however, as he came to a halt and carefully moved into the shadows, allowing the guards to run passed him, the heavy thud of their boots in contrast with Kraigon's silent presence.
As he stepped out of the shadows, intending to charge towards the main gate, he was confronted by the same young man again, his eyes looking at his feet as though finding something interesting about his shoes. Kraigon tried to walk passed him, but he shifted slightly, barring his path.
“An assassin,” said the young man in front of him, as though tasting the words in his mouth carelessly. “You shouldn't have come.”
This boy was proving to be more than he appeared, like the maids surrounding the target of his mission. However, he also appeared to be no match for Kraigon's cunning and agility. As he made to leap over him, however, his legs buckled and he fell back to the ground, his head striking the hard floor and making the assassin curse foully under his breath.
“You shouldn't have come,”, repeated the man, as though regretting the very syllables of each word. In a second, it was clear why; Kraigon couldn't breathe.
He lay on the floor, gasping with all his muscles, going through every bit of the knowledge he had so painstakingly gathered through his years as an assassin. However, nothing worked. It seemed that there was no air around him to inhale, no air at all. Slowly, his flailing hands seemed too heavy, his body too weak. Stars invaded the edges of his vision, moving forward to envelope his sight in a march of death.
The young man walked away, as though not able to watch Kraigon suffer. Even when he had turned his back though, Kraigon couldn't breathe. In a few seconds, kraigon, the feared assassin of the north, was no more.

Reviews

[Scott]

Well, that was not the ending I was expecting. A very good story that keeps the reader's attention from begining to a twist at the end. Alot of people are wondering about Kraigon, but I'm more interested about the boy, and how he can control the wind. Overal, a great, well written story, and i can't wait for the next chapter.