Prologue

Raphael's first look at an Assassin - and the chance to change his life.

Prologue

Brothers are Forever

 

“A hero’s not afraid to give his life

A hero will save me just in time.”

-      Hero by Skillet

 

There weren’t many things that I honestly hoped for as a kid. I was an orphan, living on the kindness of a scullery maid who let me sleep on her kitchen floor at night. She was an old spinster and had no one else. As long as I kept her wood supply in good shape, she’d feed me a bit and give me someplace relatively warm to sleep at night. It wasn’t much but it was more than I was ever likely to get on my own.

     I can still remember the moment that changed my life. It decided who I would be, set me on the track to being that man " and pushed me toward the hardest, scariest, most dangerous and amazing moments I would ever see in this life.

     If I was well behaved that week, the woman would typically allow me to have one friend over for a night, maybe two if they consented to helping with my chores. By no means was she entirely welcoming, as they were kicked out if they refused to help around the house. That was half the cause of my lack in friends. I didn’t care though. The friend I did have was always there when I needed to talk to him.

     Derek, my friend, was over the night my life changed. We were up in the attic so that we could be a bit loud without waking the old woman. She let us do whatever we wanted, provided we still got up in the morning to earn our keep. We were playing cards, laughing and chatting. Two nine year old boys were too young yet to cause mayhem, but we did get giggly and a bit loud. We had some of the best times in that attic.

     A loud crash from downstairs silenced us both, and even made Derek, who was a skittish boy, blow out the candles we had lit to see. Loud crashing, to Derek, meant a beating was coming; abusive childhoods did that to kids. It would be six years before he grew out of it.

     I didn’t stop him but merely sat in the silence. I spent more than half my life on the street, so my body was attuned to jumping into hyper-awareness. I knew how to listen, what to listen for, and how to be quiet if it was needed. Derek spent his entire life trying to avoid his raging alcoholic father " so I didn’t have to worry about his silence.

     Slowly, I moved over to the attic hatch. Derek grabbed my arm, saying softly, pleadingly, “Rafe, please, don’t. Let’s just stay up here. Whatever it is, I’m sure we’re better off up here.”

     “I can’t just sit here, Derek. Stay if you want, but this is the only warm place I have come winter " I have to go,” I told him, not without sympathy. I knew he was scared and paranoid. It wasn’t below his father to come looking for him, just so he could smack Derek around a bit.

     Despite his fear and to his credit, Derek did follow me down the little ladder and down the hall. The hall way was completely black, but we could see light coming from downstairs. Cautiously, we moved closer. Stopping at the banister railings, I got on my belly and let him crouch so we could both see without being seen. I knew without asking that it occurred to him that whatever it was, the one on their belly had a lower chance of getting away if we were spotted. Getting up and turning to run was a whole ten seconds lost in the panic of escaping.

     On that note, we were both completely silent, did not move more than completely necessary, and did not even whisper to each other.

     Below in the tap room, the old woman was being held back by a brutish man while two more stood behind a chair, a final man standing before the chair. It was the man in the chair, however, that caught my undivided attention. His clothes struck a chord in my brain, like a memory that had been triggered but not brought to light. I had to think for a moment before it came to me. I tapped Derek and mouthed the word “assassin”. His eyes went wide and he looked back down at the scene below.

     “You were foolish, Durza. You shouldn’t have come here,” the man standing before the assassin said " let’s call him Jerk.

     “Actually, I was merely a bit careless. Foolishness is your department, Rathbull,” the assassin replied cheerily.

     Jerk merely glared at Durza but said nothing. “We know that you have a great amount of intelligence from Haven,” Jerk said smugly, as if knowing about valuable information they didn’t have made them so smart. Derek and I exchanged looks that similarly meant something akin to “what an a*s.”

     Let’s change that from Jerk, to Jackass.

     “Oh, good for you,” Durza chuckled. “You know that I know something. Did it take you all night to figure that one out?” He smiled and said, “Or perhaps you had your dear mummy help you.”

     Jackass struck Durza across the face then, obviously losing his temper. “You will not speak ill of my mother,” he ordered.

     “I’d never speak ill of a woman with a mouth like that,” Durza answered, looking Jackass straight in the face even as he smiled broadly. Now, turning purple with rage, Jackass punched Durza again. The assassin didn’t seem to care, though, and just laughed again. “Hit me all you want,” he told Jackass. “If you knock me out, I can’t exactly tell you what you want to know.”

     “Maybe I’ll just kill you if you pass out,” Jackass threatened.

     Intelligently, the Durza held eye contact with Jackass and said coolly, “By all means, slit my throat. However, I believe it was the pirate-folk who coined the phrase, ‘dead men tell no tales.’”

     Jackass was getting madder by the second. It was easy to see. Not only was his captive completely unafraid, but he was mocking his captor to boot. Thirdly, the captive was in complete and rightful assurance that he could not be killed " he knew things that were too precious, apparently. With the knowledge that killing him was out of the question, Durza had the upper hand. Jackass did not like that at all.

     Since Durza didn’t seem overly concerned about his own life, Jackass moved on to a new target. He looked at the old woman, saying darkly, “Talk or maybe I’ll kill her.”

     Showing more spine than even I had ever seen, she spat at Jackass’s feet, snapping, “Go ahead and kill me, you worthless dog! I will not talk. I will die for Haven, as many Haven fighters have died for me.”

     Derek whispered very softly to me, “You have to give her credit, for an old bag, she’s got more guts than half the men alive.”

     “Damn straight,” I muttered back.

     Jackass seemed to consider her words, but then decided to believer her. “Alright, woman, but I happen to know something about this house.” He looked directly at Assassin as he spoke, so arrogant that I might have punched him if I were brave enough. “A boy lives in this house with the old woman,” he told Assassin, his face darkening with something that chilled me to the core.

     The woman stuck up for me, oddly enough. (I was sure she merely tolerated my existence.) “He’s not here,” she lied boldly " but I might have believed her if I didn’t know better.

     “You’re lying,” Jackass called immediately. “My men have been watching this house " I happen to know there are two little boys here tonight. Shall we bring them down for play time?”

     Finally, I saw anger flare in the assassin’s eyes. He masked it well, though. For some reason, I hoped that underneath his assassin’s garb that he wore, there would be some miracle he could pull out to save us. I knew, though, that if Jackass were even half as intelligent as I thought he might be that Durza had been searched.

     “You wouldn’t harm a child, Luther. Not even you stoop that low,” Durza said, sounding almost bored. “What could you possibly do with a couple of screaming boys, other than wake everyone in town?”

     Jackass looked at Durza with a snide grin. “I happen to know that if I lay enough pressure upon either of those boys, you’ll give in. Oh yes, I might have to kill at least one of them to get you to crack but you will crack.” He looked to one of the men and ordered, “Go find them.”

     Derek started to grab me to yank me up but I stopped him, continuing to watch. I’d been noticing Durza’s arms jerk slightly every few minutes, as if he were trying to test the tightness of his bonds. Every time he did it, they moved a bit more. I wondered how Jackass hadn’t seen it " but I imagine that all the taunting had been to keep the b*****d from paying attention.

     I quickly moved with Derek, whispering harshly, “Get up stairs, Derek. I’m faster than you. I can give you a chance.”

     Angry, Derek shot back, “Why should I let you do that?”

     I glanced back at the stairs, shoving Derek for the attic ladder as I said, “I’m not giving you a chance to do it for me.” He’d just climbed to the top of the ladder, and I yanked on the string to close it. Before Derek could object, I ripped the string clean off " meaning the ladder couldn’t be opened from the inside anymore.

     Saving Derek had killed any extra time I might have had to hide. The men were up the stairs, and looking straight at me. I turned to them, being braver than I felt. Ripping off my dirty socks, I balled them up and hurled one at the face of both men. They didn’t see it coming, so my foot-sweat smacked them both between the eyes. “Suck on that,” I said, with so much more ballsy attitude than I had.

     Now that they were angry, I took off running down the hall. I knocked things over and threw things down in their way. I was heading for the kitchen stairs. I reached them, feeling triumphant because the back door was thirty seconds away.

     Then I saw Jackass standing at the bottom. I froze, half way down the stairs. I was trapped. He knew it too, smiling up at me as he said, “It’s time to come play, boy.”

     The two men came down the stairs and grabbed me by one arm, dragging me into the tap room no matter how hard I kicked and fought. I was struggling admirably when we got there, but when I tried to swing my leg up to knock one of them in the head " I was punched very solidly in the stomach.

     Unmoving, I fell to the floor in a heap. My whole body felt cold, and everything seemed to hurt. Head pounding, blood roaring in my ears, I slowly dared to open my eyes. I’d been beat before, but no one ever hit me that hard.

     That wasn’t the kind of blow you’d deliver to a child, who doesn’t take that much force to be injured. That was the blow you’d use on a full grown man.

     I coughed, finally being able to breathe again. The second I tried to struggle to my feet, a boot went sailing into my side and I yelped in pain. This time I waited a few minutes before trying to move, but I was kicked again, harder this time. “This isn’t going to make me talk,” Durza said, his voice laced with something so sinister that I feared for Jackass despite how much I hated him right now.

     Jackass grabbed me by the hair, making me cry out again in pain as he lifted me up to my feet. I could barely stand with my stomach feeling like mush. He forced me to step closer to Durza as he said, “Remember his face, Durza. It will haunt you once I kill him because you just couldn’t open your damn mouth.”

     Durza looked at me with a stone-face but somehow, he let me through to see that he was sorry. I could almost hear him say, “I’m sorry for this.”

     Impatient, Jackass spoke, “Nothing to say then, Durza? Alright, let’s try something different.” He shoved me harshly in the direction of the two men, who immediately began beating the living s**t out of me.

     I did the only thing I could do. I covered my head with my arms and curled up to reduce their target area " leaving them open to kicking me in the stomach, back, legs, and anywhere else they could reach. I was crying by the time Durza said viciously, “Rathbull, let him go.” I caught a glimpse of Durza’s face, and somehow, it was still controlled.

     The old woman, crying herself, cried, “Let him go, you b*****d! He’s done nothing to deserve this! He’s only a child!”

     Jackass seemed to give some silent signal and the men beating me let up immediately. One swift kick to my stomach ended it. I didn’t move and I could hardly think. My head was pounding, blood roaring in my ears, and everything was screaming at me to just pass out " make the pain stop. I heard Jackass ask Durza, “Will you talk?”

     I felt eyes on me, and I knew Durza was waiting for me to show signs of life. I couldn’t move, though. Nothing responded to even the strictest demand I could make. My entire body felt limp and broken. Somehow, I knew Durza was about to give in, likely thinking I was near death if not dead, and I managed to cry out, “Don’t! Don’ tell him anything.”

     “Shut up,” Jackass ordered, kicking me again. My body was so limp that I moved half a foot with the force of the blow. I was lying on my opposite side now, and the amount of pain that shot through caused a fresh sobbing fit.

Even through the tears, I croaked, “Don’t make this for nothing. Let him beat the s**t out of me " but don’t let him win!”

     I made eye contact with Durza, my body shaking as I suppressed tears and racking sobs. He and I held that contact for a moment before he looked at Jackass and spat, “Shove it up your a*s, Rathbull. If a child won’t give in, then I sure as hell won’t do it.”

     The beating started again. It felt like hours but I knew it hadn’t been longer than a minute or two. I was just about to pass out when I heard a sudden explosion of movement. A chair went flying back, a squishy thud, water hitting the floor, garbled yelling, another water spill, and scuffling feet. I felt something warm and  wet splash against my back, but I decided not to turn around to see what it was.

     When it was over, I heard Durza say, “I’m going to let you live, Rathbull. However, you’re going to regret that I did by the time you get back to your superiors.” There was movement, a cry of outrage, and then Durza spoke again. “How will they feel when they find out that you let me get this from you? I’m sure they’ll be very angry.” I could almost see the smile in the malice he spoke with. “I’m sure I’ll be sleeping like a baby for a few weeks, but you won’t.”

     My body went heavy and my eyes slammed shut. I tried to open them again but couldn’t. Finally, I slipped into the blackness and knew nothing more.

 

     I felt like I slept for a year.

     My body was sensitive, tender, and certain movements were either entirely impossible or very painful. I tried to sit up but a gentle hand on my chest kept me down as a female voice spoke gently, “Don’t try to move, sweetheart. It’ll only hurt you.”

     I opened my eyes to see a beautiful woman standing over me. She had a gentle feel about her that made me feel safe and warm. Her thick dirty blonde locks fell about her shoulders in loose curls and her eyes, a deep hazel, were nothing but maternal warmth. “Where am I?”

     “You’re in the East Wing of Black Manor, sweetheart. My husband brought you here. You took quite a serious beating, I’m told, to make sure that Durza didn’t talk to Rathbull,” she said calmly, pulling down my covers to check on the welts and bruises that covered my body.

     Unsure that I should be proud of getting my a*s kicked, I told her much that same thought. “I’m not sure that I should be proud of having my a*s handed to me, ma’am.”

     I realized that I’d sworn in front of a lady but she just laughed as she put something cold but soothing on the welts. “No one my husband took a shine to you. You sound just like him.”

     “He does not,” Durza objected from the door, dressed now in simple finery " simple, but still clothes worn by a fairly wealthy man. His dark hair wasn’t any better for the wear, but I got the feeling that it was never really neat. The man moved over to the bed, sitting on the opposite side at my feet. He put a large hand on my knee and said sincerely, “You did me a great service, boy. I almost talked.” Frowning slightly, he said, “No amount of training can make it easy to keep quiet when it’s not your life on the line. He could have beaten me to within an inch of my life, but he didn’t. Going after you made me vulnerable. He knew that.”

     “You didn’t talk, though,” I said, feeling small in this man’s presence.

     He smiled at me. “That’s only out of your bravery, I assure you. I have a weak spot for kids " I have a daughter of my own. She’s barely two. I’m not good with men who would hit children.” His smile darkened a bit as he said with all seriousness, “I tend to kill them: violently.”

      Durza’s wife smiled at me, touching my cheek as she said, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

     I was quiet a moment before saying, still feeling small, “Raphael, ma’am. My friends call me Rafe.” My mind froze and then I was sitting up, despite the pain as I demanded, “What happened to Derek? Where is he?”

     She put a hand on my chest and pushed me back down as she said, grinning at my outburst, “My name is Bethany, Raphael. Derek is fine. He wouldn’t be parted from you, so Durza brought him as well. He’s in the nursery, playing with Ana.”

     This brought a new question to mind. “How long have I been asleep?”

     “About four days,” Durza said bluntly, adding, “Derek is worried that you’re dead. He’s been damn near inconsolable.”

     Bethany pushed hair back from my face as she said, “I’m going to get you something to eat, okay? Feel free to call me Beth, if you want, by the way.”

     She left, and Durza was no longer smiling. “I didn’t bring you here for kicks, boy. Marian wanted me to take you off her hands.”

     “Why?”

     “She’s dying, that’s why. She didn’t want you to be left to the orphanage or the streets, so she called in an old favor and asked me to come meet you. She wants me to tale you as an apprentice,” he told me honestly. It was a little unsettling, having an adult speak to me about everything " just like he was talking to an adult.

     “Are you going to?”

     “Only if you want me to,” he answered. “I had my doubts back at the house, but you showed some serious balls by taking that beating. You don’t even know what you were really beaten for but you took it like a man.”

     “Are you kidding? I cried like a baby,” I told him, angry with myself for crying at all.

     “You’re nine years old, little man. Crying is the only way you know how to react to having your insides tenderized.” He paused, but then went on. “I’m going to be very honest with you, Raphael, that if you do decide to be my apprentice, you will not like it. You’re going to spend a lot of time wishing you could go back " even some nights wishing you could be back on the tap room floor having your insides knocked around.”

     “Why is it so horrible?”

     “It has to be,” he told me honestly. “It’s no simple job to be an assassin. We do things others can’t fathom. I’ve done things,” he emphasized, “that I never thought I’d see. They haunt me some nights, and there are times where nothing keeps you from waking up in a cold sweat " even crying. This isn’t a choice you make lightly.”

     “If it’s so terrible, why did you go into it at all?”

     “Like many other assassins, I had little to no other choice when I was your age. It was this or something I considered to be worse. You and I share the fact that we didn’t know our fathers, and our mothers died when we were too little to remember. We grew up on the streets and had nothing.” He paused. “This is a job you take to escape a worse fate. I had the choice of becoming this person or being a slave the rest of my life.”

     “Do you ever think of quitting?”

     This made him laugh, rather hard. When he calmed, he said, still chuckling, “Son, you can’t quit this life. Once you’re in, there’s no going back. If you want out, you have to leave before you start.”

     That confused me. “Why would you quit before you try?”

     “In this case, and this case alone, quitting before you try is the safest bet if you don’t want to sign your life up for this. The Brotherhood doesn’t teach anyone anything unless they’re committed. We don’t just take out contracts on people to kill them, Raphael. The Brotherhood is an underground, darker version of Haven. We don’t take just anyone in, and we don’t allow retirement unless you’re dead or senile. You never stop being a Brother,” he said with a weighted meaning.

     We were both quiet for a moment. Then, I looked up at him and asked, “Do you think I would do well?”

     “Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “You’re smart, determined, and you already take a beating better than most men.”

     He was grinning, so I allowed myself to laugh a little, but it hurt so I stopped. This made him frown, and he said, “If you decide not to, Beth has decided that she’s adopting you and Derek anyway.”

     “Why not just have more kids?”

     “She’d die,” he answered again, still blunt. “Ana almost killed her. Having another baby would kill her. Besides, she doesn’t want to go through pregnancy again.”

     I smiled a bit, saying, “What happens if I say yes to the training?”

     “Two things: first of all, you start calling me Master Durza between the time you finish breakfast and the time you sit down to eat dinner. Secondly, you swear not to kill me no matter how angry I make you in the next twelve years or so.”

     “Twelve years,” I exclaimed, shocked.

     “Roughly twelve, yes: possibly eleven if you do well. Ten if you truly excel and advance quickly,” he told me easily, his tone matter-of-fact and a bit amused.

     I may have been nine, but I thought ahead. So I decided to ask my next question. “What happens if I want to have a lady-friend?”

     He laughed, clapping me lightly on the shoulder out of respect for how much pain my body was in. “I doubt you’ll have much time, but if you want to, go ahead " just not on my time. And like I said, my time starts after you eat in the morning and doesn’t end until Beth calls for dinner.”

     “When does Beth usually serve breakfast?”

     “Just after dawn,” he said.

     “What about dinner?”

     “Dusk,” he said, smiling as it dawned on me that Durza would own my time from the time the sun came up until it went down. We were both quiet for a long moment before he asked, “Do you know what you want?”

     I waited another long minute before asking, “Can I start calling you Master Durza after I get out of this bed?”

     He laughed, and patted my shoulder again, saying, “It’s a deal.” 

Author's Note

Ignore Random " Because Writercafe Replaces - With Them. -- Tell me what you think. (:

Reviews

[200STM]

I like it!

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing story. The first paragraph brought me in. I like the history and description of life and times of the main characters. The story got stronger and better. You open the door for a outstanding story. Thank you.
Coyote

[Nicholas Hagenschneider]

pretty interesting. I'm going to keep reading.