Assassin Born (The Dragon Sands Book 1) Read online

  Veranor turned and left the ring. She heard a clicking sound as a small, hidden door opened in the side of the ring. Thin beams of sunlight crept in through the small slits between wooden beams in the ceiling. She looked at the surrounding Scaethers as they stood in their positions.

  “Now what?” she asked. “We just going to sit here all day?”

  One of them ushered her over with a wave of his hand. She stood and bitterly wiped the tears from her cheeks. He led her into another door opened on the opposite side of the ring. She walked through the door and was led down a long hallway with torches lit on both sides. There were empty cells on one side, and she was worried she’d be thrown into one.

  Peering back behind her, she saw the other Scaethers following her. This isn’t the time to run. Wait until you know this place, and when you find a way out, take it. Go back and find Gogenanth. Or if he isn’t in Sorock anymore, find him wherever he is, or let him find you.

  She was led to a room at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t a cell, as in the sense of the other barred open prison-rooms. It was a cozy room with a thick wooden door, which latched from the outside. There was a raised cot with thick blankets, and a basin with clear water in the corner.

  At the other corner was a dark-wooden cabinet, and next to it a desk with blank papyrus and quill and ink. It had a stone floor, and was clear of dust and sand.

  “We’ll bring you food later, get some rest,” the Scaether said with no expression. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and she heard the latch lock from the other side.

  “A pleasant cage is still a cage nonetheless. Nice linens won’t make me forget that . . . Veranor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, still full of fury, she fought hard to appear calm. She knew she had to be patient, she had to wait for the right time to fight, to escape her new imprisonment. However Veranor had plans of his own. Hearing footsteps patter down the long hallway and towards her cell, she stood in the middle of the room, telling herself to remain calm, but be ready for anything.

  There were a creak and pop of the latch and the door slowly opened inward. “Good morning,” Veranor said. His demeanor was stern, and his gray eyes glared at her. She saw the crossing scars on his nose and the wrinkles next to his eyes were dark in the candlelight.

  “Commander,” she said, attempting to hide the disdain she carried.

  “Walk with me,” he said. “We have much to discuss.” He turned and walked out of her cell, and she eagerly walked after. As soon as she was out into the hallway she saw the two Scaethers behind her. Any attempt she would’ve had to take Veranor down and escape was gone, for now.

  “What do we have to discuss?”

  “I know you are still . . . Bitter, about me taking you from Sorock, and I wish for a truce. After all, we are going to be spending much time together.” I’ll be damned before I am stuck here. All those years in Sorock was enough for me. All the torment and anguish. I don’t care what it takes. I’m going to get out of here, and I’ll find him. I don’t care if it’s only one day and night out on the open sands before they find me. One night of freedom under the stars would be worth more to me than a life of the need to please the Six Gods above.

  “Are you asking for forgiveness? You know the only reason I wanted to stay was because of him.”

  “Yes, Gogenanth. My other shimmering star in the overcast sky. It really was unfortunate about you two. If I would’ve kept you both separate, things would have gone smoother with the transitions.”

  “Where is he?” she asked. He didn’t answer, but continued walking. His long cloak kissed the ground with its purple trim. “Veranor, where is Gogenanth? I’m not going to train with you unless you tell me he’s alright.”

  He turned suddenly with a menacing glare. “His fate is in his hands. Yours is in yours. Better preoccupy yourself with your own— Never mind. Let us continue.”

  “What do you mean his fate is in his hands? What’ve you done with him?”

  “Ask me tomorrow. I promise I will give you an answer then,” he said. “Until then, let us have as nice of a day as possible. I do wish for us to get along, it would be easier that way.” No way that’s happening. I’d rather stick a dull fork in the side of your neck than treat you as any sort of comrade.

  She walked after him down the torch-lit hallways. They walked past cells, then storage rooms full of chests and barrels, and then kitchens with cooks working at long tables. Finally, they reached a circular room with a table made of two curving, dark wooden semi-circles. He ushered her to sit at the end of one of the tables, and he went at sat at the other, he laid his long cloak over the back side of the chair as he did so.

  Lilaci saw at the door stood the two Scaethers with their hands on the hilts of their swords. She looked at Veranor as he rustled a cloth napkin onto his lap, and then she saw a servant enter between the two at the door and walk over with two plates of food, one for each of them. After, another servant entered with two mugs and a piping hot kettle.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “We’re going to have meals together, at this time of day, every day.” The servant placed the two mugs in front of each of them and poured the hot water into them. Lilaci saw there were tea leaves already in the bottom of the mug, and as the water hit the leaves, and the aroma wafted out of the mug, it was a strange smell. It was floral, but deep, like absinthe.

  Veranor held up his mug to her, and took a sip, and then a deep gulp. Lilaci sniffed the tea warily, and then sipped, swishing it around in her mouth. It was pleasant, and tasted good, so she took a deep gulp. She looked down at the food on the plate, there was a roasted stew with rosemary, buttered rice and braised vegetables. She couldn’t deny that she had a vicious hunger in her. She watched as Veranor delicately moved the food around on his plate, and then began to eat, she resisted shoveling the food into her mouth, but consumed faster than normal.

  They ate the meal in silence, and she finished much quicker than he, and she polished off the last drops of the tea. When Veranor was finished, and with scant morsels left on his plate, he pushed the plate away and finished his tea.

  “Feel better?” he asked. “It appears you were hungry.” She nodded.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “What now?” he said and stood slowly from his seat, the torches flickered behind him off the dry stone walls. “Today is an important day, but it won’t require much of you, you just need to be present.”

  “Well, I’m here.” What did he mean, won’t require much of me? Veranor’s got something planned, he always has some scheme in his mind. What? What is that?

  Lilaci caught herself looking down at her plate, and to her, it appeared the fork and knife were moving around the plate on their own. The fork began to twist and curl, and she noticed that her face was inches from the plate. She looked up, and tried to stand, but fell back into the chair. Her heart was racing, and as she looked up at the firelight of the torch behind Veranor, it’s flames crept up high to the ceiling and danced along the walls and grew to a brilliant, terrifying blaze.

  She put both of her hands firmly on the table, to try to ground herself. “What? What did you do?” she struggled to say with her quick breaths. “This is the . . . Hortucaen leaf? You’ve poisoned me, you bastard!” She stared at him in a mad rage, fury burning deep inside her.

  He only stood there, staring back at her. His features waved and moved as she watched him. She only vaguely noticed a handful of black figures enter the room in front of him. They were all in black cloaks and hoods. Helplessly she noticed her head was on the table, and she couldn’t move her arms or legs, even as she tried with all her might.

  In her delirium, she watched as the figures removed their hoods from their heads, and each of them had tan skin with black and red tattoos decorating their entire faces. They all had white hair pulled back behind their heads and they all had the tell-tale ivory necklace of their order.

  “Mages,
” Lilaci struggled to say, and tried to run. She tried to move anything; her arms, legs, even a finger, to no effect. She was at the mercy of Veranor and the poison in her veins.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lilaci tried to fight it, with every ounce of her spirit she tried to gain an inkling of control. But, with all her strength and speed, she watched helplessly as the mages encircling her began a low, melodic chant and their dark, tattooed hands began to glow with a bright green light. The light danced up their arms and grew like long, sharp blades of lush plants.

  “Please, stop,” she muttered. She noticed that her quick panting, and rapidly beating heart had slowed to long, slow breaths and her whole body had relaxed. She knew the chanting of the mages was working its magic on her, but she knew not what magic it was, she was fully at the mercy of Veranor, who stood in the shadows behind the mages. I can’t let them win. I can’t let them win. I can already feel their fingers sinking deep into my mind. I’ve got to fight it. I’ve got to . . . “Argh! It hurts! Gogenanth help me . . .”

  As their chant grew louder, and faster, the room began to spin around Lilaci. She didn’t appear to be in the circular room any longer. She felt as if she was floating through the air, and she looked as she was drifting among the stars. As she looked at their warm, golden glow her body felt calm, but distant. Lifting her hands, she could feel them, but they weren’t there. She couldn’t see any part of her body. Her mind, it was floating through the heavens.

  In the fog of her mind, she heard one last voice speak from behind the mesmerizing fog of the mages. The man’s voice said in a hollow echo, “Wipe all memories of her life before Sorock, and take all her memories of the boy. Wipe them all away. Give me the weapon she was born to be . . .”

  It’s so beautiful. I’m free, I’m finally free. Somehow I’ve escaped him, somehow I’ve escaped him. I’ve escaped Sorock. Perhaps . . . Perhaps this is the release of death. Have I died? Is this what death is? Have I finally found the freedom I’ve always wanted?

  Then something came into view in the distance. It was a golden glow, it was bright in the star-filled sky. As Lilaci drifted towards it helplessly, all worry was washed from her mind in the calm of her current state.

  This is it, the release of death. I’ll soon see my family again. As the figures grew closer, it was a group of men and women, glowing brightly, and it was hard to make out their faces. Father, it's you. You said you’d never leave me, you promised to keep us safe, but you left, I’ve missed you so. Mother, you’re so beautiful. I’ve missed you all these years. I needed you, I needed a mother all of these years. Your kindness, your love, I’m afraid of what I’ve become without you. They’ve turned me into a weapon, I’m so scared, I just wanted you to hold me, to tell me everything was going to be okay. Even if it was a lie, I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.

  She tried to make out the faces of the others, but there was a glare from the light that made them blinding. It must be you Darig and Elka, you’ve grown tall and strong. So much we missed out on together. Somewhere out in this world there must be children who grow and play together, but we were robbed of that. Our lives were stolen from us, and now I’ll never have the chance to avenge you, but at least now we can be together, we can finally be together, as a family. Our family is together again.

  As Lilaci drifted closer, the faces of the golden figures began to focus and she realized who it was that was in front of her.

  “No— No! Not you, where’s my family? What’ve you done with them?” she screamed out into the emptiness.

  The figures didn’t respond, they only stared at her. The six figures all stood tall and strong. They had dark, tan skin and wore brilliant golden armor. They held hefty, jewel-laden weapons and staffs. The figure at center with his tall, black crown extended an open palm to her.

  “No, not you. It’s your fault. All of you, its all of your fault. You took my family from me. You’re the reason I’ve been tortured and imprisoned all of these years. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have gone through all of this. All the pain, all the misery, all the loneliness. It was all in your name. It was all in the name of the gods.”

  The gods stood before her, not speaking, and the figure at the center with the long flowing silver hair withdrew his hand, and Lilaci found herself quickly floating back away from them. She was hurtling back through the emptiness, twirling and spiraling uncontrollably. She tried to scream, she tried to grab onto anything to stop, and as the gods drifted out of sight, she awoke with her eyes open, and panting feverishly.

  She looked down at her hands, which were there, and her palms were covered in sweat. She brought them up to her face, and felt the cold sweat on her forehead, and her soaking hair. Looking around, she found that she was in the bed in her cell, and the slow flickering of candlelight soothed her slightly. Fatigue overwhelmed not only her mind, but her body, and she laid her head back onto the soft linen pillow on the bed.

  “A dream, it was only a dream . . .” she whispered as she fell into a deep, overwhelming, and calming sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A cool sweat soaked her sheets and her hands were shaking, she felt as if she was freezing. She lay on the bed in the dark as she shivered and rubbed her shoulders and chest. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get warm. Since she’d woken hours earlier, sleep wouldn’t come again, and Lilaci began to feel nauseous.

  Wrapping herself in a thick blanket that scratched her skin, she stood and lit the candles around the room, the first one with a flint, and then she used the first candle to light the rest. She drug a small table over to the head of the bed, and gathered all of the candles and placed them on the table in front of her. As she lay back down, she stared into the glowing dance of firelight in front of her face.

  She thought of the desert and walking the hot sands. She’d never been so cold in all of her life. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers over the bobbing flames, and watched the shadows on the ceiling move and dance. It took her back to memories of her father, and then strangely to Gogenanth. She wondered where he was, if he was going to be okay, and if he was even alive. Veranor seemed to be hellbent on ruining his and her lives.

  A shiver ran through her body again, and she gave a sigh. She had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. Sitting up, she had to flip her pillow over as it had become too cool from the damp sweat. She lay her head back down forcefully, in frustration.

  “Just go to sleep Lilaci, just go to sleep.”

  Staring into the soft, warm firelight of the candles. She smelled the floral aroma of the wax as it rolled onto the table, and the subtle smoke that rose into the room. Watching the hypnotic flicker of the light, her vision became blurry and she wept. It wasn’t an angry burst of tears, or a blinding sadness, but a helpless feeling.

  As helpless as she was in Sorock, at least she had some sense of freedom. She was open to feel the open air, and communicate with the others. Lilaci was truly a prisoner wherever they were, and she felt as helpless as that girl on the sands so many years ago. Driving her face into her pillow, she let the tears flow.

  “Gogenanth, help me. Please, if ever I needed you. It is now.”

  The latch popped, and the door’s hinges creaked with a sharp, grinding sound. Lilaci’s eyes shot open, and she sat up in bed. She saw the candles had extinguished themselves. Shifting her weight quickly she leapt from the bed and landed in a defensive position in the center of the room. The blinding light of torchlight entered the room.

  “Come with us,” a man’s voice said. She recognized it as one of the Scaether’s.

  “No,” she said.

  “Hmpf,” the Scaether said, she could see his face in the firelight. He had a scowl on his face, and an impatient tone in his voice. “Come now, don’t start. Veranor wishes to see you, you’d do best to do as he says. It’s only going to be harder the longer you don’t.”

  “I’ll kill you before I let you take me to see that monster again.”
r />   The Scaether sighed and opened the door behind him, as two more entered the small room. All the three men were much stronger than her, as they were all grown men, and she still only a teenage girl.

  “You can try, but no one is going to die in this room today. You will see Veranor, be it on your feet, or not. It doesn’t matter to me, I have no problem taking you down there by force.”

  Her fingers, arms and shoulders still ached from shivering in the night. Staring at the Scaethers, however, ignited that inner fire in her stomach. She wiped the cobwebs and fog from her mind and reverted to the warrior inside the fighting pit back in Sorock. If I’m to die today, my soul would be most content taking the last breath from Veranor with me.

  “Fine, let’s get this over with. Can I change my clothes first?”

  The Scaether with the torch nodded. “Make it quick.” And they all left the room. Shutting the door behind them, but not closing it completely.

  She shuffled through a cabinet, gathering a set of clean, dry clothing, and all the while looking for something durable, something sharp. After lifting a shirt from the corner of the cabinet, she noticed a jagged splinter sticking up from the wood. She stuck a finger underneath it, and pulled it up. It wasn’t strong or sharp enough to kill, but she could take Veranor’s eyes if she got close enough. That would set her soul a little more at ease.

  After she was fully clothed in the thin linen sleeveless shirt, and tight-fitting pants, she wrapped a red sash around her waist. She pulled her pulled her hair back, and fit on her pair of leather shoes.

  “Alright, I’m ready,” she said. The door opened further, and the torchlight lit the walls of her room. She went and entered the hallway. The man with the torch led the way, and the other two walked close behind her.

  They were taking the same path as they took the day before, or the day before that, she didn’t know how long she’d been out. They slowed as they went to the room with the two crescent-shaped tables, and she paused before entering. She saw him sitting at the table, by himself. She looked around and didn’t see the mages, which made her realize that wasn’t a dream she had about them, as she wouldn’t know what this room looked like only from a dream.