Spoiler
Dracon came darting into the intersection, coming to rest at Ramar’s side.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Go see to the boy!” he yelled at his former apprentice. The man obey, running to the boy, who lay on the ground with a pool of blood collecting around him. Dracon tore off his shirt and placed it on the young man’s wound. From the distance came the sound of hooves, growing gradually closer.
Ramar sat up, examining his wound. It was a long cut, but not as deep as he had first thought. The bleeding had already begun to slow.
“Dracon, what about the boy?”
“I can’t stop the bleeding. This needs healer’s hands.” He slowly picked up the boy, and upon seeing his face Ramar recognized him as the Hopeful from that morning. The hoof beats grew louder, till a group of Assassin’s, led by Katric, had entered the intersection on horseback. Dracon quickly tied off his makeshift bandage on the boy and ordered one of the men off his horse. He positioned the boy in the saddle and swung himself up. With a tap of his boot, the horse took off down the alleyway.
Ramar hesitantly stood. His leg was burning and he tried to put as little weight as possible on it, but he would live.
“Master Katric. The rebel went that way.” He pointed down the street. “If you hurry you may be able to catch him.” The men swung down off their horses.
“Sorry Ramar. We’re not here for the rebel. We have strict orders to escort you to you King Jairon. But first,” Katric cracked his knuckles, “Here’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now, Master.”
The men formed a half circle around Ramar, pushing him back. Damn it Katric! he thought. The man had always been a loose end, and Ramar suspected that one day he’d betray him, but why now? The only reason he kept him around was because he forced Dracon to be his best. The others were his lackeys, but they were well trained Assassins.
“This should be fun,” Katric said, smiling. Ramar fell into a defensive position, but he doubted how much good it would do him.
***
King Jairon paced in the Hall of Kings, wringing his hands together absentmindedly. The room was completely empty now, save for himself and the four guards that shadowed him. Four more stood at the door and the amount of guards on duty in the castle had been doubled.
The great oaken doors swung open. The guards’ hands went to the hilts of their swords, but on seeing Katric enter, they relaxed. The man strolled forward, dropping to one knee in front of the King. Behind the Assassin walked three men, Ramar in the middle. The High Assassin looked like he was knocking on Death’s door. He was limping and both his eyes were bruised and swollen. Tiny cuts crisscrossed his body. One arm appeared to be broken. An evil grin stretched across Jairon’s face.
“Good, you’ve done what I’ve asked,” he said to Katric. “Now leave us. I would like to have a word with Master Ramar.” Katric rose and left the hall, followed by the other two Assassins. Ramar stood wobbling back and forth in front of the King.
“ Well, well Master Ramar. It looks like you’ve been in a bit of a tussle. I’m curious, did you happen to catch the man who tried to kill me?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“No My Lord,” Ramar said softly.
“No? Well then, surely you have a good explanation as to how the man got into the castle in the first place?”
“I don’t My Lord.” Ramar looked as though he could barely stay on his feet.
“Excuse me?” Jairon said menacingly
“I don’t know My Lord,” Ramar spoke louder.
“Oh, you don’t. Because I was sure that my High Assassin, the man in charge of protecting me, would know how one man was able to slip past a whole troop of guards.”
“I’m sorry Lord Jairon. With all that has been happening down south, I forgot to put more men on duty.”
“You forgot? You forgot!” all of Jairon’s control was gone now. “ You, the leader of the Order, forgot to add men to a roster. How could you be so stupid. You almost killed me! And for your stupidity, you shall die!” Ramar looked up, defeated. Yet he did not blame the King for his choice. Seeing the understanding in Ramar’s eyes, Jairon smiled maliciously.
“Guards,” two of the men stepped forward. “ Take him to Baz. And tell him to do his worst.” Fear quickly flashed across Ramar’s face. The two me pushed Ramar out of the Hall, directing him towards the dungeon.
Out of the shadows, Fainon, Jairon’s personal advisor, appeared. He walked slowly up to the King, head slightly bowed.
“It’s too bad about Ramar. But, I guess he was getting old. It’s time for someone else, someone stronger, to leader the Order,” Fainon said.
“Yes. And I believe I know just the man for the job.”
“Dracon?” Fainon asked. Jairon nodded. “ Do you believe he has what it takes?”
“We shall see.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Go see to the boy!” he yelled at his former apprentice. The man obey, running to the boy, who lay on the ground with a pool of blood collecting around him. Dracon tore off his shirt and placed it on the young man’s wound. From the distance came the sound of hooves, growing gradually closer.
Ramar sat up, examining his wound. It was a long cut, but not as deep as he had first thought. The bleeding had already begun to slow.
“Dracon, what about the boy?”
“I can’t stop the bleeding. This needs healer’s hands.” He slowly picked up the boy, and upon seeing his face Ramar recognized him as the Hopeful from that morning. The hoof beats grew louder, till a group of Assassin’s, led by Katric, had entered the intersection on horseback. Dracon quickly tied off his makeshift bandage on the boy and ordered one of the men off his horse. He positioned the boy in the saddle and swung himself up. With a tap of his boot, the horse took off down the alleyway.
Ramar hesitantly stood. His leg was burning and he tried to put as little weight as possible on it, but he would live.
“Master Katric. The rebel went that way.” He pointed down the street. “If you hurry you may be able to catch him.” The men swung down off their horses.
“Sorry Ramar. We’re not here for the rebel. We have strict orders to escort you to you King Jairon. But first,” Katric cracked his knuckles, “Here’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now, Master.”
The men formed a half circle around Ramar, pushing him back. Damn it Katric! he thought. The man had always been a loose end, and Ramar suspected that one day he’d betray him, but why now? The only reason he kept him around was because he forced Dracon to be his best. The others were his lackeys, but they were well trained Assassins.
“This should be fun,” Katric said, smiling. Ramar fell into a defensive position, but he doubted how much good it would do him.
***
King Jairon paced in the Hall of Kings, wringing his hands together absentmindedly. The room was completely empty now, save for himself and the four guards that shadowed him. Four more stood at the door and the amount of guards on duty in the castle had been doubled.
The great oaken doors swung open. The guards’ hands went to the hilts of their swords, but on seeing Katric enter, they relaxed. The man strolled forward, dropping to one knee in front of the King. Behind the Assassin walked three men, Ramar in the middle. The High Assassin looked like he was knocking on Death’s door. He was limping and both his eyes were bruised and swollen. Tiny cuts crisscrossed his body. One arm appeared to be broken. An evil grin stretched across Jairon’s face.
“Good, you’ve done what I’ve asked,” he said to Katric. “Now leave us. I would like to have a word with Master Ramar.” Katric rose and left the hall, followed by the other two Assassins. Ramar stood wobbling back and forth in front of the King.
“ Well, well Master Ramar. It looks like you’ve been in a bit of a tussle. I’m curious, did you happen to catch the man who tried to kill me?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“No My Lord,” Ramar said softly.
“No? Well then, surely you have a good explanation as to how the man got into the castle in the first place?”
“I don’t My Lord.” Ramar looked as though he could barely stay on his feet.
“Excuse me?” Jairon said menacingly
“I don’t know My Lord,” Ramar spoke louder.
“Oh, you don’t. Because I was sure that my High Assassin, the man in charge of protecting me, would know how one man was able to slip past a whole troop of guards.”
“I’m sorry Lord Jairon. With all that has been happening down south, I forgot to put more men on duty.”
“You forgot? You forgot!” all of Jairon’s control was gone now. “ You, the leader of the Order, forgot to add men to a roster. How could you be so stupid. You almost killed me! And for your stupidity, you shall die!” Ramar looked up, defeated. Yet he did not blame the King for his choice. Seeing the understanding in Ramar’s eyes, Jairon smiled maliciously.
“Guards,” two of the men stepped forward. “ Take him to Baz. And tell him to do his worst.” Fear quickly flashed across Ramar’s face. The two me pushed Ramar out of the Hall, directing him towards the dungeon.
Out of the shadows, Fainon, Jairon’s personal advisor, appeared. He walked slowly up to the King, head slightly bowed.
“It’s too bad about Ramar. But, I guess he was getting old. It’s time for someone else, someone stronger, to leader the Order,” Fainon said.
“Yes. And I believe I know just the man for the job.”
“Dracon?” Fainon asked. Jairon nodded. “ Do you believe he has what it takes?”
“We shall see.”
