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"The Assassin's Apprentice" is told in first person present tense and has been heavily edited.
Chapter Nine
For eight weeks, I trespass in the shadow lands of death. Constantine tutors me from morning until night. I take lunch in his room, and even though I may have Talen sleep with me if I desire, I choose not to. Not with these kinds of poisons around. I won't risk that he'll get curious and somehow get a single drop on himself when I'm not watching.
If that happens, I would lose my mind.
Poison. Caasak. I come to understand it. Scentless and colorless, this liquid is fatal in every form. I respect the simplicity and fear it all the same.
The katana, though similar to a longsword, is a superior weapon. He also shows me how to garrotte and teaches that, for lack of a melee weapon, I'll never be unarmed. I spend one afternoon fashioning a perfect one from a coil of corobidian ribbon that Constantine has among his supplies and replace the one sewn into the collar of my favorite shirt.
During the latter part of the eight weeks, Constantine focuses on re-enforcing my earlier training. In addition, I practice daily with lemon juice so that I can use the poison he's going to give me without hurting myself.
When I'm done with poisons for the day, I usually take up sword fighting.
He blindfolds me and tells me to rely upon my keen senses to guide my swing. I learn to pay attention to the smallest difference in air movement. I learn how to recognize subtle changes in air flow and temperature caused by the approach of a heat source to my skin. Constantine informs me what to watch for...of what to be aware...and I prove a quick learner. Soon I can sense a hand that approaches my face or recognize a moment's breath for a closing door, an exhalation, or for what it might actually be...a short and quite natural gust of wind.
I master seven ways to disarm a person wielding a knife. I study four ways to disarm an opponent with a sword, and six different ways to disarm a person with a club, axe, or mace. The only way any of this schooling will be useful to me is if I can somehow perform these actions out of habit. So I practice hour after hour, trying to make my blocks and my parries a reflex action.
Then, the last week of my training arrives.
I never thought I'd be sorry it ended, but there's a pang in my soul that longs for more. I say, "Master, is there nothing left to learn?"
Constantine laughs. "You never stop learning Kian. You've only begun to scratch the surface. But we've just about reached the limit of what I can teach you. The rest is practice, trial, and error."
He hands me a jar of sticky black grease.
"This is called weapon black. Put it on your blade and anything else that has a reflective surface. Remember always that your hair is like sunlight and that your skin is as white as snow. I think either might create a problem for you should your mask become loose or your clothes rip from fighting. Try covering your face with black makeup. You can pick some up at the local theater house. And you might think about dyeing your hair black before a job."
I nod and watch him unfold an article of heavily-embroidered silk tied with a thick rope of gold twine. Inside is a set of exquisite throwing knives with small holes in the handles, I presume, for suspension from a ring like a key chain. The knives are made of polished steel, and they are very well balanced. To my surprise, he hands me the set, ten of them total. "These are yours as well, Kian."
"M-mine?" I manage to stammer. "I don't deserve it master."
"W-what? You're my only apprentice--the only one that's made it to the end of his training in twenty years. Don't be silly. These could save your life."
He holds them carefully and shows me the proper way to grasp the knife in my palm so that I can throw them with deadly accuracy.
"I had these made for you," he states, "about three months ago. The craftsman just barely finished them in time. I ordered each one made perfect in both balance and weight. They cost me twenty gold crowns a piece, so don't toss them about needlessly or use them to chop vegetables."
He pauses, watching me cradle them like a baby, and laughs. "When held properly, it's almost like they know where to strike to kill." With a flick of the wrist, he flings them at a pole across the courtyard, and they sink into the wood--all of them--within an inch of each other.
I retrieve them, barely avoiding a slice on my own finger.
When I try to mimic his action, I blunder, sending them skittering into the sand.
He slaps the back of my head. "You can do better than that."
I nod and behold the knives with the wonderment of a child examining his first pocket knife. They are razor sharp and cold in my untrained fingers. But as the day marches on, I gain skill rapidly. Over the next two days I perfect my throw. I'm not sure I can hit anything else with as much accuracy, but I can nail a moving target between the eyes at forty paces with these knives. In the pit of my stomach, I feel that I'm ready for a night of murder.
It's about time.
On the last evening before my Master's departure he calls me into his meditation room on the far side of the courtyard. There under the moonlight of silver-hued Mondath he presents me with a fine suit of armor. Part of it looks made from silk, but in fact (as he informs me) it's comprised of gossamer strands of interwoven corobidian mesh.
He says, "I commissioned this for you some eight months ago when I realized how talented a student you are. It's worth more than this entire guild house and everything in it. But it'll protect you far better than anything else you can wear. It'll be skin tight to your body alone and the breast plate, greaves, and wrist guards are solid pieces of metal. The mesh is to provide flexibility at the elbows, knees, and groin. The cup that protects your manhood is molded from a used priapus that I took from you a year ago. It should fit you nicely, although the smith was impressed with your size." Constantine winks, and I grin. "This metal here," he indicates, "is black corobidian. All of it--I'd say about twelve ounces in two fist-sized rocks. On the black market it sells for more than two-hundred thousand gold crowns. You should find it so comfortable that you may be tempted to sleep in it, albeit a bit stiffly."
My mouth hangs agape. "How can you afford this?"
He laughs. "I didn't pay for it. That's a black market price. If I was to look around here, people wouldn't even know to what I referred. Clothol is an ignorant if not humble town. I had some of the ore with me, and I know a man who's able to make it into what you see before you. He owed me a favor. In this business, you come to collect a lot of favors. The most important thing about being an assassin is knowing when to spare a life and when to take it. Now, for example, you owe me one, should I choose to collect."
I nod with acknowledgement. I really owe Constantine everything. He's opened a door for me that I never knew existed, and it thrills me that I can walk any street of the world and never be afraid again. Rather, I'm the one to fear. And people will come to understand this over time.
As I stare at the armor, I hear my mind whisper a name to me. It's my assassin name. I'll not go by Kian. No...I'll go by Hunter. I choose this nom de plume knowing the image it can conjure.
I pick up the armor, still filled with surprise and gratitude. I surmised that the whole of it weighs less than ten pounds! And, it's as pliant as thick cotton. I can tell instantly that it'll fit my every curve with perfection--that this incredible thing will wear like a second skin--both protecting my body and looking absolutely grand at the same time.
"There are new boots to match," he indicates. "Black ones with good tread and a place to put your throwing daggers. They'll accommodate your feet without socks and wick away most of the sweat. And I took the liberty to insert a garrote into the collar which will close about your neck like a metal manacle. But the collar can turn away the sharpest spear. You can reach the ends of it with your fingers...like so," he demonstrates, exhibiting the small loop which serves as one end to the garrotte.
"Here, as well, is your tool belt and bandolier." He shows me that the bandolier will hold my katana on my back, and he also indicates that I should wear it upside down like I'd seen Talen do, so that I can reach it more easily. Inside one of the belt pouches is a vial of caasak, a small mirror, some flash powder, and a six-inch rod that can be snapped to form a hook and attached to a rope. He presents me with a special scabbard for my blade, outfitted with a secret compartment holding twenty feet of fine silk rope. "It should hold about 180-pounds or so before breaking. That's more than enough for you."
It's almost too much for me to take in all at once.
"You need to be careful with corobidian," he declares. "The metal has the tendency to build up an electric charge when moving around. Associates of mine in Mon Arcanos have called this property super-conductivity. If you move around fast enough, lightning will start to course down your arms.
"However, there's nothing as hard as corobidian in all the world. A single strand of it as thin as a hair is as strong as steel cable thirty times its thickness. But the lightning will give you away. I've gotten around this by making these grounding bands."
The grounding bands he points out to me look like they're made of chestnut colored leather.
"Always wear these on your ankles on the outside of your suit. This will cancel out the static effect." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Now, listen very carefully my pupil. There's something that you can do for me. In this shipment of jewels there will be a stone about the size of my thumb. It's clear and otherwise unremarkable, but it shall be locked away in a decorative tube and set aside on a cushion of faded blue velvet. You WILL retrieve this item for me. That's all. Don't let anyone see you take it either. If you do, you must kill them." He pauses to chew on his lower lip. "Do you understand?"
I shake my head. "Yes, is that all you want?"
He smiles. "It'll be enough."
"What is it? I mean...what's the stone?"
He muses quietly to himself, I think, judging on whether to tell me or not. "It's one more piece of the puzzle. One more clue to follow to Bloodbane's resting place."
Bloodbane...I think to myself. More nonsense about this strange weapon. But even as I think these thoughts, I begin to question as to whether I have any right to deny its validity. Who was I but a lowly thief turned assassin's apprentice? And I had a far more convincing argument before me as to its profound, if not enigmatic, existence.
"Where will you be going?" I ask him, clearing my mind.
"To the south, across the sea and into the steamy jungles of the Mirimar to meet with the assassin's council in Soulwarden. It seems that others of our profession have a few gripes with me and have brought them before the Guildhouse of Assassins."
"The Guildhouse," I start to say, but don't know exactly how to broach the question. "What's the Guildhouse?"
"The Guildhouse, Kian, is my employer. They'd employ you were they to know of your existence, which they do not. A Nightshade does not take a pupil lightly. You would hold the title of 'Reaper', of which there are only five in the world at present. They desperately want more, so it would be best if you kept our association personal should anyone come asking. But if I have my way, they'll never know about you. It's thousands of years old and has a great investment in keeping rules to our game of kill or be killed. Without rules there's chaos, right? We are the enforcers of the rules, and we take assignments to kill those that seek to diminish our profits."
"That's a very simple way to boil things down," I state flatly.
Constantine agrees. "There's no use in complicating things. Killing is a serious business, my boy. That, by the way, is the key to everything. Be simple, Kian. Don't pause to boast or to gloat. Kill and be done with it. Make it quick, not sloppy."
He hands me a leather pouch with ten coins in it. "This should buy you food for the next couple of weeks and anything small that you may need. Of course you have your personal fortune unless you've given it all to the church by now. Whilst I'm gone, I don't want you or any guest in this meditation room. You may have them anywhere else. And in my absence, I expect you to stay in peak physical condition. When I return, I'll send for you." He strokes my hair then and lays a single kiss on my blond head. "You've so much potential, I wish I could stay to polish it."
"I've worked hard."
"Aye, that you have," he agrees. "But I'm still not where I'd like to be, and I, Kian, have been at it for decades."
He pauses, looking at my eyes in the moonlight. "Get some sleep now. I shall see you in two months' time. Keep the stone safe...and let no one see it."
"I will. I promise." Then I leave his side carrying his many gifts, and place them carefully in my room. I fall asleep watching the silver light of the moon drift through my door which is slightly ajar.
Strangely, I dream of a black wolf with yellow eyes. The beast stalks me through the woods as I fuck Talen in my armor. We are both sweating profusely, and he hardly notices; feet on my shoulder pads, face staring at the moon, and grunting with each of my powerful thrusts. But I notice. I pause in my strokes and look through the tree trunks. It stares at me hungry, even as sweat falls from my nose.
There's blood on its teeth. I know without a doubt that it's human, and it awakens an appetite inside me that can only be sated by killing.
I intend to post Chapter 10 soon. Please go to the forum on my website and participate in the discussion. Thank you for being a reader :)