Death Comes To All (Book 1) (6 page)

"Where's
that? I mean, where is it you are planning on going?" Drom
asked.

"You'll
see when we get there," Garan replied, and without another word
started off down the road. Raine followed close behind.

Drom
fell in step at the rear of the group, but made certain not to fall
too far behind. Garan had said that he was staying with them. He had
already been told that, but a part of him still couldn't quite
believe it. Now, however, it seemed as if there was no longer any
question. They wouldn't leave him behind. At least, not yet.

Drom
heard a loud growling noise, and realized with some dismay that it
was coming from his empty stomach. Raine must have heard it too. Drom
noticed one of her sharp, pointed ears swivel in his direction at the
sound, but she continued walking, saying nothing. The only thing that
Drom had eaten in quite some time was the half a plate of greens he
had eaten at the bar and the apple he had eaten that morning. He
wasn't certain how many more of those apples Garan had in his pack,
but the pack he wore didn't look overly full, nor was it very large.
Surely it couldn't hold much.

Raine
hadn't eaten anything at all as far as Drom had seen. It was possible
that she might have eaten something while he had slept, she had said
something about fishing, but he certainly hadn't seen any evidence of
it.

Surely
she must be starving
, Drom thought. No wonder she didn’t
have any sympathy for his growling belly.

The
only member of their group Drom had seen eat regularly was Trick, the
dragonling, who Garan kept sated with scraps of dried meat regularly
fed to him while he occupied his space on Garan's shoulder. Drom
wondered how it was that the man carried the thirty pound creature
mile after mile, nearly half the total time they had walked, and yet
didn't seem to tire in the slightest.

Even
on this open path the pace Garan set was hard for Drom to keep,
though it was easier than it had been trying to push through the
thick brush they had gone through when they started their trek. It
was nearly sundown before Garan finally came to a halt, leading the
group off of the road for nearly half a mile before stopping
completely. Drom was so tired it took him a moment to notice the
smell of citrus in the air around him. He looked up into the fading
light, noticing for the first time the ripe fruit hanging directly
above his head. Garan had led them right into the middle of a wild
orange grove.

Drom
grabbed one of the oranges without thinking, pulling it off the tree
and had already finished peeling it before the question came to his
mind.

What
if these oranges already belong to someone?

He
had just assumed that they were wild. He knew that there were wild
trees in some places. He also knew that it was equally possible that
these trees belonged to some unknown farmer and he had just stolen
the man's food. He could only imagine what his father would have done
had someone wandered into his crops and started eating.

"Don't
worry, no one owns this land," Garan said, as if reading Drom's
thoughts. "These trees are wild. No one farms any of the lands
this close to the road. Farmers don't want to have to associate with
the types of men that travel it. These trees have been here since
long before any of us were even born. Most likely they are the
descendants from the time before the Mage War. There are plenty of
places that are like that, land that had once been cultivated but has
gone for possibly thousands of years without anyone making claim to
it. Raine, could you get us a fire going?"

"I
need to hunt," she growled back. She hadn't eaten in at least a
full day, and they had been traveling hard.

"Drom
and I will take care of the hunting tonight," Garan replied.
"He's never going to be comfortable with the things we do until
he starts getting his hands dirty. Just have the coals ready for us
to cook on when we get back."

Raine
gave Garan a hard look. Drom could see some silent message pass
between them, as if they could somehow each see into the mind of the
other. Drom had been told that it was sometimes that way between
close friends who knew each other well, though he had never been
close enough to anyone to have felt that sort of connection himself.

"Fine,"
Raine said finally, relenting. "Just don't let the kid screw it
up. I need to eat something soon."

"No
need to worry," Garan said, shining her his winning smile. "Even
if he can't manage to take any game, you know I will."

"If
his stomping around doesn't scare off every animal for five miles,"
she barked back, and began gathering sticks and twigs to use as
kindling.

"She
doesn't seem to like me much," Drom commented to Garan once the
two of them were out of earshot.

"She
likes you well enough," Garan said in answer. "She just
hungry, and when she gets hungry she can be very peckish. About the
only time she's worse is when she's in heat. I won't even come near
her then. Thankfully the pheromones her body puts out don't affect
me, so I can get away easily enough. Anyway Drom, have you ever been
hunting before?"

Drom
shook his head. Sorvinians didn't eat meat, and his mother had
adopted their vegetarian ways. He had never had any need to hunt.

"Well
then, this will be a new experience for you. Trick, hunt." At
the command the dragonling at his shoulder promptly flew off,
circling in the air just above the tops of the trees. Drom hadn't
thought about it before, but now he realized that he should have
guessed that the small creature could hunt for game. It was a
carnivorous animal after all. Drom wondered how much meat it took to
keep Trick sated.

"Where
did you find Trick?" Drom asked suddenly. "I thought only
the great mages had dragonling companions, but if you were a powerful
mage you wouldn't be out here doing this I'm sure."

"Even
mages have to eat," Garan answered humorously. "Though
you're right, I'm not a great mage. What magic I have I rarely use.
The mages rely too heavily on their magic, and few of them use that
power responsibly. I found Trick when he was still just an egg, out
in the deep swamps. I go there from time to time, whenever things are
getting too hot in the cities. Look, Trick sees something."

Trick
had stopped circling and had landed on a branch a few hundred yards
ahead of them. Drom could just barely make him out in the dim light,
a splash of blue in a sea of green. Garan, however, seemed to have no
problems seeing him. The assassin put a finger to his lips, motioning
for silence.

"Whatever
it is, it's too big for Trick to carry," Garan whispered.
"Otherwise he would have taken it down himself. With luck it
will be a small herd of deer. One of those would supply us with
enough meat for a few days."

Garan
bent down and took off his pack, pulling out a bundle just over a
foot long wrapped in an oiled cloth. Unrolling the cloth he revealed
two long metal bars, which he promptly connected to a steel center
piece that held them together. The bars were notched on both ends, to
which Garan quickly and expertly fitted a thick, strong cord, using
his legs to pull back the metal bars far enough to fit the cord into
place.

Drom
recognized this weapon, from descriptions he had heard in some of the
trader's stories. It was a collapsible steel bow. Smaller than the
wooden long bows most men commonly used, these expensive alternatives
were said to be incredibly powerful. The traders had spoken of them
with awe. Never before had he met someone who could actually afford
one.

"Walk
as softly as you can, and only step where I step." Without
looking at Drom, Garan headed in the direction his dragonling was
indicating, his footfalls as silent as a ghost. Drom did exactly as
he was told, though even to his ears his steps sounded horribly loud.

When
they were within about fifty yards of the tree that Trick was sitting
in Garan held up his hand, stopping Drom in his tracks. He once again
put a finger to his lips to let Drom know not to talk, and, leaving
Drom where he was, crept forward on his own. In moments Garan was out
of his sight, and Drom was left in the woods, completely alone.

Nearly
five minutes went by in complete silence. Drom was just starting to
think that perhaps he had been left behind after all, lost in the
woods to fend for himself, when something crashed through the brush
only a few yards ahead of him. Standing before him, its wild eyes
swirling in fear or rage, was the largest boar Drom had ever seen.

The
swine dropped its head and charged at once, its long, thick tusks
leading the way. Drom had seen animals like this before. His father
had often caught them rooting through his fields. He knew just how
dangerous they could be, and the larger the animal the more dangerous
it was. This boar was easily four hundred pounds, and Drom knew it
would be more than capable of killing one sorvinian alone by himself,
especially one that didn't know the first thing about how to defend
himself against it.

He
remembered what Garan had said to him that morning.

Never
run from an enemy. If you're going to die, do it with dignity and
face your enemy head on.

Drom
realized belatedly that he wasn't carrying any sort of a weapon, but
he still had his strength. If he had to be, he could be just as
dangerous as this wild animal. He braced himself and held his ground.

Drom
heard a strange sound, which he realized only afterward was the
singing of a bow string being loosed. Only a few feet in front of him
the huge hog toppled and, snout first, skidded across the ground to a
halt. The animal screamed and squealed loudly. The arrow Garan had
fired from his unseen position had gone through both of its back
legs, pinning them neatly together.

As he
came out of the brush into Drom's sight he pulled a long dagger and
tossed it on the ground in front of Drom. He stared at the weapon at
his feet, not comprehending.

"Slit
its throat," Garan instructed, already unstringing his bow.

"Why
didn't you kill it?" Drom asked, perturbed. He hadn't expected
to have to kill one of the animals they were hunting. He had thought
he was being brought along to carry the carcasses back to camp.
Surely a killing shot would have been easier to accomplish than the
one the assassin had made.

"Because
I want you to kill it," he replied casually. "Remember I
told you that you would have to follow my instructions? Well, now I'm
instructing you to kill that boar. You should do it quickly. That
animal's in a lot of pain right now. It would be cruel not to put it
out of its misery."

"I've
never killed anything before," Drom protested. "I won't be
eating it, so why should I have to be the one to kill it?"

Garan
stepped right up to Drom, ignoring the injured boar behind him. Even
though Drom was at least six inches taller than him, it seemed as if
Garan loomed over him. He stopped only inches from Drom's body.

"You
say you want to learn to become an assassin, and yet you balk at
killing this animal? What makes you think you'll be able to kill a
man, one who might be able to fight back, when you can't even kill
this boar that's trapped in front of you? Well, this animal isn't
going anywhere, so until you're ready to kill it, you're going to
stay right here and listen to it scream in pain. If you want it to
stop, if you want its pain to end, it's up to you to end it."

Garan
stepped back and refused to say another word. Drom stared down at the
dagger at his feet in horror. He was not certain he was ready to kill
anything, even to defend himself, but it was much harder to think
about killing a defenseless creature. Had the boar still been able to
stand and was still charging him as it had been only moments ago, he
might have felt differently, but this poor creature could not harm
anyone in its present state.

The
boar continued to squeal, a high pitched sound that echoed loudly in
Drom's ears. It tried to rise, but with both of its back legs pinned
together it was not going anywhere. Drom knew that in time, if left
on its own, it would likely die from blood loss, or simply from the
shock and pain of its wound. It was just in so much pain, the sound
of its screams so loud, that Drom began to feel ill. When it became
unbearable he reached down and picked up the knife below him.

He
bent down over the boar.

I'm
just going to put it out of its misery,
he thought to himself.
Put an end to its pain.

He
stood behind it, careful not to let the boar gouge him. At this
distance it could still be dangerous if he wasn't careful, he knew.
Though the animal couldn't stand or move forward it still thrashed
its head back and forth, gnashing its teeth at him and trying to
pierce him with its tusks. Moving quickly, he pulled the dagger
across its throat and stepped back. The squealing turned instead to a
low whistling sound. Thankfully that only lasted a few seconds before
the noises ended completely, and the boar stopped moving.

"Death
comes to all things, Drom," Garan said softly, coming up behind
him. "Whether it's an old man dying in his bed as he sleeps or a
stillborn child who never takes a breath, they are going to die. It's
the only thing anyone can ever be certain of. An assassin chooses the
death of those he kills. Should you become an assassin, you'll see
more death than you could ever wish for. Unless there is a reason to
choose otherwise, it's always best to choose a quick death, and to
make it as painless as you can. Remember that Drom. Come. It's time
we get back to camp. The longer we take the worse Raine is likely to
be, and we're still going to have to cook this beast. Pick it up and
let's get going."