Vrik

An assassin befriends a young man, but what are his true intentions?

            The short dark man dressed in several different shades of red came down the stairs with a confident stride his hands resting easily on the hilts of the blades at his belt.  The crowd parted for the young man many acting as if they had decided to move at that exact moment and it had nothing to do with him.  He had a meeting with a possible client so Vrik made his way to his table ignoring all those around him.  The regulars of The Wench knew well enough his reputation and didn’t want to test his steel, so they gave him and the table he kept in the back corner a wide berth.

            Vrik approached his table and saw a fresh face greenie sitting there with a beer in hand.  He was feeling generous, so he decided to give the boy a chance to move as he stepped up and looked down at the kid.  The boy was like so many in this town, wearing new expensive armor and weapons feeling he was a hero in the making.

            “Care to join me my friend, there is plenty of room.”

            “There is plenty of room because this table is mine.  You only sit at it if I invite you or you have business to discuss with me.  Since I didn’t invite you, it must be business, who do you want me to kill?”

            The boy turned pale as he looked up at this man who had the look of someone that looked death in the eye too often to count.  He began to stand up, knocking his chair over in his haste.

            “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

            “Relax kid, I’m not going to kill you.  I have business to conduct, but afterwards you are welcome to join me.”

            The boy nodded and hurried off. Vrik smiled as he watched the kid head for the door.  The boy hadn’t been the first or wouldn’t be the last to sit at his table unaware of who had claimed it.  He like everybody else wanted nothing to do with a killer and would find another bar to drink in.

            The fool was wearing a disguise when he showed up like a rag worn over his purple lacquered armor was a real disguise.  Vrik watched him approach the table wondering if the man even had a clue that his identity was known to everyone in The Wench.  He dropped into the chair across from Vrik and leaned over the table.

            “I have a new contract.  We need five people to die,” the man spoke in a soft whisper.

            “Let me see the contract and the money.”

            The man pulled the scroll and coin purse from under the ragged brown cloak, his silver jewel encrusted ring bearing his master’s symbol flashing in the candle light.  “Here they are.  I was told to tell you all five will be at the Sky Garden tomorrow.”

            Vrik unrolled the scroll to verify that it had all the proper seals and signatures.  He slid it into his leather doublet before testing the weight of the coin purse.

            “The purse feels a little light.  Do I need to count it?”

            “No, not here.  It is all there.”

            Vrik laughed see the man squirm.  “Tell your master I’ll deal with this problem tomorrow.”

            As his contact jumps up and hurries out Vrik notices the greenie from before standing nearby.  Of the hundreds that he had sent running over the years, this kid was the first to ever come back.  He didn’t know if he should kill the kid or buy him a drink.  Signaling the kid to join him, Vrik decided to buy the kid a drink and maybe kill him later.

            “Have a seat kid, I’m Vrik.  You are probably going hear it from somebody else so I’m going tell you up front I’m a killer, an assassin.”

            The kid looked nervous and nodded.  “I’m Wolf … I mean Hawk.”

            “The fact that you had the nerve to come back earned you some respect in my book, but the stupid name is going to lose it for you.”

            “I’m Thomas MacTarnish, but I want a name like the heroes in stories.”

            “Thomas those heroes in the stories don’t exist.  The stories are based off guys like me, the story teller just embellish on what really happened.  Now Thomas may not sound as cool as Wolf or Hawk, but it is your name so be proud of it.”

            “So, there is no one like Ironfist, Spiritcutter or Bloodroar?”

            “They are based off real guys with just common names.  Once in a while somebody will get stuck with a moniker, but us in the business don’t use that crap.”

            The conversation continued like that as they drank until Vrik stumbled off to his room.  He woke with a pounding headache and a vague memory of offering to train the kid to use his sword.  He considered forgetting about that, but if he was going to kill the kid he may was well make it interesting by showing the kid a few tricks.

 

            The practice yard was behind The Wench and was owned by the same person who owned The Wench.  It was open to anybody that didn’t cause problems or owe money at The Wench, so there were always a few people hanging out practicing or just trading style tips.  The kid was already there when he showed up.

            “Okay kid I want you to show me what you got attack that practice dummy.”  Vrik said as he tried to ignore his pounding head.

            Vrik watched for a few minutes groaning more from what he was seeing then from the hang over.  The kid was helpless and killing him would be a mercy Vrik thought as he walked over and dunked his head in a nearby bucket.  He looked back and as the kid was chopping at the practice dummy like he held an axe and the dummy was a tree.

            “Stop!  Damn it kid do you even have the slightest idea how to use a sword?”

            “What am I doing wrong?”

            “That is a sword not a f*****g axe.  You have to use a little style and finesse with it.  Watch me.”  Vrik pulled his sword and attacked the practice dummy.  He kept his attacks fairly simple and slow for the kid.

            Stepping back after a few minutes he looked at the kid.  “Now you have seen how to do it so do it.”

            The kid attacked the practice dummy again, he didn’t use the sword as an axe, but his attacks were clumsy and slow.  Vrik watched considering just slitting the kid’s throat to put him out of his misery.  The kid had plenty of muscle and stamina, but he lacked knowledge.

            “Stop.”

            “Was I doing it wrong again?”

            “It sure the hell wasn’t right.  I have a job to take care of so here is what is going to happen.  I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine.  He will teach you about weapons, but for these lessons you are going to help him.”

            “Okay.”  The kid sheathed his sword awkwardly.

 

            “Okay kid this is Harold, Harold this is Thomas, he wants to be an adventurer, but he doesn’t know anything so tell him about weapons.  He can work your bellows for you.”

            The old man looked the kid over and nodded.  “You look strong, grew up on a farm didn’t you?”

            “Yes sir.”

            Vrik made his exit as they talked.

 

***

 

            The guards on the Inner City gate looked over his pass and nodded him through.  The contrast between the docks and the Inner City was like the difference between night and day and all the differences weren’t visible.  On the docks a man would slit your throat as quick as look at you, but only if you had something he wanted.  Those that lived in the Inner City would just do it for the entertainment.  The five names he had probably had done nothing wrong, it was just some game a God wanted to play.  The blatant display of wealth made him sick when many on the other side of that wall were starving or just barely scrapping by.

            The huge marble palaces of the Gods were bad enough, but the temples had gem encrusted doors and the merchant houses went so far as to gild their roofs with precious metals.  Not for the first time in his life Vrik wondered if it was possible to kill a God.  There were rumors that if true could turn this whole situation around.  Kill the Gods and maybe those who came to power after them would act better.

            The Sky Garden, in the very center of the Inner City was series of interconnected platforms built in the boughs of a gigantic tree.  It was part tavern, part brothel and all show.  Vrik found the stairs leading up and began his ascent.  There was lifts for the very wealthy to use to reach the top most platforms, but his targets were on the lower ones.

            Vrik pulled the hood and mask from his pouch and put them on.  They were the sign that he was acting on the orders of a God.  All part of some sick game the Gods played, but a game had rules and this one was no different.  The rules were simple: he had forty-eight hours after accepting the contract to kill his targets.  He could not injury or kill anyone else, even if they interfered in his attack.  Finally, he had to wear the hood and mask as he approached his targets, so they would know they had been targeted.

            He almost laughed as he reached the level his targets were on.  They had six bodyguards with them.  The Gods had changed the game and now it was the killer who was the target.  Vrik considered calling it off, but he had his reputation to think about.  He had never failed, and he would die before he did.

            Drawing the daggers from the back of his belt he sprinted forward as the guards drew their swords.  He had to make it past them and kill his targets and then hopefully he would have won.  Dropping to his knees he slid under the sword swing of the first and was back on his feet as the man tried to recover.  The second was a dual wielder and fairly skilled.  Vrik blocked his first blade and danced back as the second cut the air where he had just been.  The man didn’t have to put up a defense since of the smallest cut from Vrik’s blades would end the game.  Another man jumped in swing a big warhammer and Vrik bent over backwards as the hammer swished above him.  The man with the two swords was on him and he jumped back again losing ground.

            These men were good, but they weren’t a unit, each attacked with little regard for the others.  Vrik smiled under the mask as he realized this.  He went after the swordsman showing his unprotected back to the warhammer.  The man with the warhammer rushed him putting all his power into the swing.  Just as the hammer started moving Vrik shifted moving the swordsman into the hammer’s path.

            As the hammer slammed into the swordsman Vrik used the moment of stunned surprise that froze his opponents to spin and throw one of his daggers at his targets.  Before the dagger had buried itself in the center target’s chest he had his short sword out and was rushing them again.  The last three moved to block his path as the two behind him closed in, but Vrik wasn’t about to give up.  He leaped onto a table and used it to flip over the three between him and his targets.  Even his targets looked on with admiration for this man’s determination.

            Landing in a forward roll Vrik came to his feet his sword already slicing left to right.  The first cut got two of the remain four as the other two back pedaled away from him.  He jumped forward and took the last man through the chest with his short sword and spun on the woman.  The look of terror on her face was priceless as he slammed his dagger under her chin up into her brain.  He took a moment to savior her look as the light left her eyes before spinning around.  The bodyguards were nearly on him, but they pulled up short scowling.

            “Better luck next time.”  He laughed as he headed back the way he came.

 

***

 

            Vrik was well into his drink when the kid came in all smiles.  The kid’s happiness was like a knife in the gut of the killer and as the boy sat down the killer reached for the blade in his boot.

            “I meet a girl.  She works at the bath house.”

            Vrik almost let himself smirk as he took another drink.

            “A bath house girl is just another type of w***e boy.”

            “She is no w***e, she is kind and pretty,” the kid snapped back anger showing on his face.

            “Gods boy you fell in love with a bath house w***e, she must of have done something truly magical or is it just cause it was your first time?”

            “She isn’t like that we only talked.”

            “She has completely bewitched you boy,” Vrik pulled coins from his pouch and dumped them on the table, “take these and go see one of the women upstairs they will break this spell for you.”

            The boy slammed his mug down and stormed off as Vrik smiled, but it slides off his face as he thought of what he had done.  Signaled one of the serving wenches for another drink and dumped all the coins he had offered the boy onto her tray.  She scurried off surprised at his sudden generosity.

 

***

 

            Vrik hated mornings, but he dragged himself from bed and stumbled to the practice field as the sun rose.  He had decided the boy would die today, it had only been a day and yet the boy was making him weak.  Before that idealistic idiot had entered his life, he would have never regretted what he had said last night, but now he felt the stirring of his long dormant consciences.

            Standing in the shadows he watched the boy practice not with a sword, but a war hammer and he had to smile, Harold knew his weapons.  He still looked like a farm boy playing at adventuring Vrik thought, but now you could see he had potential.  Vrik ran his fingers over the worn hilt of his dagger before stepping out into the sunlight.

            “Not like that.”

            The boy spun around a smile appearing on his face.  “I didn’t think you would be here today.”

            “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

            “You did, but you drank a lot last night, you didn’t even recognize me as I helped you to your room.”

            Vrik felt a tinge of pain in his gut as he smiled.  “What kind of friend would I be if I let a little hang over stop me from helping you.  Now let me see that hammer of yours.”

 

            Vrik stood back his fingers stroking the hilt of his dagger as he watched the boy strike the practice dummy again and smiled.  He would kill him tonight as they drank and be done with it, it would be more fitting to killing him where they first meet.  He smiled as he thought of it.

            “Enough for today.  Go help Harold, I have business to attend to.”

            “Thank you,” the boy shouted as he hurried off.

            Vrik turned and headed back into The Wench thinking how he was going to do the kid a favor by killing him.  He was too nice and good to survive in this city, best a quick death instead of the slow death others suffered.

 

            There was always something that stayed his hand, that night as he drank with the boy he was ready to do it, his dagger half out of the sheath when the boy bought the next round.  It was bad luck to kill a man that buys you a drink, so he slammed the blade away and lifted his mug.  The next day as they dueled, he considered doing it, a slip of his blade and it was nothing more then an accident, but the boy suddenly did the unexpected and he stopped to praise him.  Again, and again he considered doing it, but his heart was never in it.

 

            “Vrik I want to thank you, but I’m no adventurer.  I can never repay you for all the training, but I leave tomorrow.  I will be escorting Aileen and her mother home.  I plan to marry her.”

            Vrik chuckled as he raised his glass.  “Best of luck to you Thomas.  You are way too good for this city.”

            Vrik couldn’t help but feel that he would miss the kid.  He insisted they share a drink or a dozen.  It was late when he stumbled upstairs leaving the kid passed out on the table.

 

            “Vrik, I’m sorry about your young friend.”

            The killer turned to the burly man sitting at one of the gaming tables.  “What about him?”

            “He is dead.”

            “No, he was leaving, going to be a farmer of all things.”

            “He bumped into Talon on his way out.  He didn’t ever get a chance to defend himself.”

            Vrik dropped a hand to his dagger as he turned and headed for the door.  He was about to step through it when a large dark-skinned hand fell on his shoulder.

            “Your good killer, but Talon is better.  Luckily for you I owe that b*****d also.”

            “Talon, he will get his, but I won’t be seeking to avenge my friend today.  Today I go to tell a young girl that the boy she loved, the boy she almost saved from this place is dead.”