Death Comes To All (Book 1) (7 page)

Drom
felt numbed by everything that had just happened. He had just killed.
What it was or the circumstances behind it didn't matter to him
anymore. The boar could not have hurt him as it was when he killed
it, and yet he was forced to kill it anyway.

He
was not certain if he would ever be able to do something like that
again, and yet he knew if he stayed with Garan he would have to. He
would kill and kill until rivers of blood ran deep from all the lives
he would be forced to take, not only animals like this, but also men.

Perhaps
some of those men would deserve that death, but that did not matter
to him. No amount of bathing could ever clean all the blood that
would be on his hands.

For a
brief moment Drom was certain that he might retch right there on the
ground next to the slain animal, but with some effort he managed to
get control of his rolling stomach. With a heave and a grunt he
picked up the carcass of the boar and wordlessly followed behind
Garan as he led the way back to the camp.

The
fire had already burned down to a deep bed of coals by the time they
arrived. Raine looked like she was about to say something, perhaps a
word of complaint for the length of time they had taken, but promptly
closed her mouth when she saw the burden Drom carried. He set it down
in front of her and she set to it with her own knife, cutting off the
first few pieces and placing them on a thin metal grill she placed
over the coals before cutting more off the animal to store for later.

They
won’t be able to take all of the meat with them,
Drom
realized,
but what they can carry should last them a few days at
least.

Drom
eyed the fruit hanging on the tree above him, but just couldn't bring
himself to eat anything right then. The coppery smell of the blood
from the boar he had killed still filled his nostrils, making his
stomach turn. He knew he should be hungry, knew that once the sun
came up in the morning they would be heading out again at the hard
pace they had been keeping all that day and he would need his energy,
but he couldn't even think about eating.

"You
don't really think I can be an assassin, do you?" he asked
Garan. "You said before not everyone has what it takes to do the
work that you do, and you don't think that I do."

Garan
looked at him sternly, as if studying Drom's expression. "No, I
don't. I didn't think you could do it before, and after what happened
with the boar I'm almost certain of it. You shouldn't think of that
as a bad thing. Few people could do what I do and still sleep at
night. Even those few that can rarely last long. Some wake up
screaming in the night, haunted in their dreams by the men that
they've killed. Those that can handle it are either evil, vile men
who should not be allowed to walk the earth, or they find some way to
live with what they do, like I have.

"Even
though I only take contracts to kill men who deserve their deaths, I
still find it hard to do sometimes. Killing someone like that trog
from last night is easy. That one had more blood on his hands than I
do, and he deserved his death a thousand times over. Some, however,
were not as bad as he was. I've seen decent men do horrible things,
and perhaps they deserved their deaths, but there are times I wonder
if I would have done differently in their place. I don't always have
an answer."

"How
do you do it?"

"I
know that all of the people I kill have done something that deserves
the death that's coming to them. I know that if I don't kill them,
someone else is going to, and I at least will try to finish it
quickly and painlessly. Even the trog was killed painlessly. Not all
assassins are like that. There are some that enjoy killing. They want
those they kill to suffer as much as possible before they die. Sick
bastards like them give a bad name to the entire profession."

"If
you don't think I'll become an assassin, why did you agree to take me
with you?"

"I
watched you for a minute when you came into the bar last night. It
was clear to me you didn't have a clue what you were really doing.
You were the only person in that bar that wasn't carrying a weapon.
Even the bartender knew enough to be armed. He had a short sword
hidden underneath the bar. If I had left you there the guards would
have thrown you in the prison and you never would have seen the
sunlight again.

“Even
if they hadn't, someone like you wouldn't have lasted a day in a port
city, any port city, and Port Dayton is one of the worst. You would
either have found yourself in prison or dead within the first week or
two. You had given me an excuse to pick a fight with that trog, who I
was going to kill anyway, so I figured you earned a trip to a
different city; maybe even a little training to help you take care of
yourself once you're on your own again. At least somewhere else the
guards wouldn't have been looking for you, and you might have found
some way to get by."

"You
still haven't really answered my question." Something had been
bothering Drom since they had changed direction and headed west. That
feeling only grew when Garan had first agreed to teach Drom to become
an assassin. Garan had acted as if he had already made the decision
to take him with them before they had talked about anything. He had
planned on leaving Drom at Lando, or so he had said, but Garan and
Raine already seemed to have made plans to head west instead, with
Drom in tow.

"You
were going to be our decoy," Raine said from her place by the
fire, turning over her thick slab of sizzling pork. "The mage
who controls Port Dayton also controls Lando and all the land
between. There are dozens of small towns along the way, where people
would remember someone as noticeable as you passing through. I've
told you once before, Garan and I can walk without leaving a trace
behind. You, on the other hand, leave a trail a blind child could
follow. The guards in Lando would have seen you passing through the
gates, and turned you right over to the men from Dayton.

“Had
you managed to avoid the guards hunting you and made it into the city
it might have taken them a week to find you, which would have been
even better for the two of us. You wouldn't have known to hide
yourself, or how to do so if you had. By the time they found you we
would have been long gone, assuming they believed enough of your
story to even bother looking for us at all.

“Garan
took a liking to you, and decided to let you join us if you wanted.
Honestly I think you're a pretty good kid too, though I don't know if
I would have taken you along had it been my decision. That's pretty
much everything. Now if you don't mind, please stop grumbling about
it. I would like to eat my meal in peace."

Garan
laughed. "I told you she can be irritable when she's hungry,"
he joked. Raine's ears folded back along her head but otherwise she
ignored the comment. "I'm sure she'll feel better after a good
meal. You're right, you're not the right type of person to become an
assassin. Still, you can be useful while we travel. On the way I'll
teach you the basics of combat and those skills you'll need to
survive in the cities. You can find yourself a decent enough job once
we get there, maybe as a bookkeeper or, if you learn to be good
enough with a blade, a guard for some minor merchant. We'll talk more
about it in the morning. Until then, try to get some sleep."

Drom
was not at all inclined to disagree. He was exhausted, and not just
from the travel. Everything that he had just been told was swimming
through his mind.

I
was nothing more than a decoy to these two.

Everything
he had been told before that moment had been a lie, he realized. He
had killed that animal, slit its throat, and it was all for nothing.
He could still smell the blood on his hands.

No,
that's not true,
he told himself.

Perhaps they had planned on using him as a decoy, but they had
changed those plans. The blood he smelled was not on his hands, not
any longer. It was coming from the boar's carcass, and while its
death may have been regrettable it did serve a purpose. It was being
used to feed those that traveled with him. And although he was not
likely to become an assassin, he would at least gain training that
would help him in the future.

Drom
watched as Garan cut off strips of meat from the boar, slowly feeding
Trick one small strip at a time. The dragonling took each piece into
its claws, daintily pulling the meat apart with its bird-like beak
before swallowing it, little by little.

Drom
turned away from the sight. After everything that he had been
through, in only that one day, he strangely no longer felt horrified
while watching the small creature eat, but was still somewhat
disturbed by it. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to
sleep. Though it didn't come easily to him, after a time he
succeeded.

Chapter Four

Drom
woke, sweating profusely. Horrible nightmares had plagued him as he
rested, dreams of death and blood, only half remembered in the light
of the morning sun. He sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
Looking around him he saw that the fire had been smothered sometime
recently, small wisps of smoke still curled up from underneath the
dirt that now covered it. His companions were no where in sight.

They're
gone!

Realizing
he now found himself alone, in a place he knew nothing about, he
jumped to his feet and looked around. The carcass of the boar was
gone as well, he saw. He couldn't find their packs either. It seemed
they had left him behind, though his pack and what little he carried
was still where he had left them when he fell asleep. He heard a
sound, like a small chirp, from somewhere in the tree above him, and
looked up into the branches, searching.

After
perhaps a minute or two he heard the sound again, and finally
pinpointed the source.

There!

Nestled
in a nook formed between two of the uppermost branches, Trick slept
in a curled ball, oblivious to Drom watching him from below.

Surely
Garan wouldn't have left without his small friend. They must still be
around somewhere.

Now
certain that Garan and Raine hadn't left him behind, he was able to
relax a little. He heard a low growl from his stomach, protested his
fasting from the night before. Thankfully this was something that the
campsite Garan had chosen could cure him off. There was more than
enough to eat in the trees right above his head.

He
pulled an orange off of one of the tree directly above him, easily
within arms reach. He peeled the thick skin off the fruit, shoving
two wedges into his mouth in his first bite. The juices from the ripe
fruit dribbled down his chin, but he didn't care. Not bothering to
wipe it off he finished the orange, barely taking the time to chew.
He was already greedily devouring his third fruit before two
newcomers stepped into the camp.

Drom
looked up, barely recognizing Raine. Gone was the black uniform the
feral woman had been wearing. Now she wore a long tunic of a dark
green color that hung down almost to her knees, held up at the waist
by a thin, black leather belt. She no longer wore trousers at all.
The thick black boots she wore, however, came so high up her legs
that only her kneecaps were left exposed.

She
had also spread something into her fur, changing its color as well.
Now every part of her exposed fur shone jet black, reflecting blue
hues where it caught the sun, like the wings of a raven. Were it not
for the ornate sword she still wore at her hip, Drom might not have
known for sure that it was really her at all.

Not
that it's likely that there would be another feral woman anywhere
nearby,
he thought.

The
man with her was about the same height as Garan, and also had the
assassin’s dark, deeply tanned skin, but the similarities
between Garan and this man ended there. This man had short, reddish
hair, with a thick mustache and goatee of the same color. He wore a
dark green tunic with well worn, dark brown leather trousers, and
black deerskin boots. His eyes and face pinched up in a strange
parody of a grin, and his ruddy, heavily blushed cheeks gave his thin
face the look of a man who enjoyed too much drink.

"If
you're finished with your breakfast you should fill your pack with as
much fruit as you can carry," the newcomer announced, the thick
accent in his high voice making it difficult for Drom to understand.
"There will be more places like this one along the way, but
there could be three or four days of travel between them. It's always
a good idea to gather supplies where you can find them. Places like
this are open for anyone who knows them, so you never know if someone
else might pick it clean before you get there."

Drom
looked questioningly at Raine. "What, don't you recognize me?"
the stranger asked cheerily. Now the voice that came out of his mouth
was clearly that of Garan. "You know me as Garan, the assassin.
However, I wouldn't be a very affective assassin if I looked the same
everywhere I went. It wouldn't take people long at all to know me,
and I would be enjoying the hospitality of a prison cell within a
month.

“From
now on, or at least until I tell you otherwise, you should call me
Malik. I'm a merchant with a slightly disreputable reputation. I
trade in spices, though those who really know me, that is those who
have seen me in this guise and know the man I now appear to be, are
likely to know that my real trade is in jewels and other valuables
that are generally not obtained by legitimate means.

"Raine
here will be going by the name Tara," he continued, while Drom
stared at him blankly. "You will be posing as our guard.
Merchants rarely travel without some sort of an escort, even those
that operate outside of the law. You can keep your name if you want.
No one knows you yet, so you don't really need to hide it. I'll leave
that up to you. You will need this though, at least until we get to
the next city and you can get one of your own." He tossed Drom
his sheathed sword, still attached to his sword belt. "You won't
look like much of a guard if you're walking around unarmed."