He came back to the waking world at the sound of a soft scraping. Resisting the urge to open his eyes, Inodhill sent his senses out, trying to deem if the source of the scraping sound was a threat. To the casual, or even attentive, observer, he would look as if he was still sleeping. But he was mentally wide awake, controlling his breathing, letting his chest rise and fall in the pattern of sleep. A very valuable skill, that. He’d been able to glean much information several times before in that fashion.

Several moments later Inodhill sighed and turned to face the source of the scraping noise.

“Stupid cat…”

The said animal raised its head and stared at Inodhill quizzically before shaking down its brown fur and returning to its meal of dead crow.

Inodhill looked about and saw that the sun was just about to rise from behind the forest, the green hell that was his home. Akanista was a forest nation of sorts, with most of its land mass covered by tropical greenery. Besides the monastery hiring out its agents on a contract basis, the nation also serves as a stop-over port along one of the major sea-trade routes of the world. As a result, there were many port towns along its coastline, although if one was looking for variety, one would be sorely disappointed.

Chapter One - ii)some dinky title...

Inodhill crept silently along the rooftops of Kakuo later that night, his cloak wrapped around lean five and a half feet frame, buffering him from the chilly sea breeze while distorting his shadows and even making him seem like one.

He had no particular destination in mind. He just needed to prowl, to expand pent up frustration. He need to… stretch. After about two hours of stalking nothing but shadowy mists, Inodhill finally tired and slumped against a chimney that was not puffing out smoke. It was a damp and chilly night, but he needed no warmth. Sighing, he shut his eyes, hiding their blue shine from the world.

He had a lot of things running through his mind. He missed Avenda terribly. It would be three months tomorrow since he saw her. It was hard for him to admit, but he was having difficulty keeping his emotions in check. He never intended to get together with Avenda. It was all accidental. Her partner fell when he was discovered during an assassination attempt, and she was trying to cope with her loss. Along came Inodhill, offering a shoulder to a friend in need. But what started as a friendly consoling session rapidly became a night of passionate bed-creaking, and they’d been together since.

In truth, Inodhill was not prepared for the many things he saw when he came out of the monastery in Akanista for the first time. An orphan, he was chosen to be brought into the monastery of the dark lord Khaine by his mortal representatives. After five years of training in the various disciplines of Khaine under the watchful eyes of the masters and mistresses of the monastery, he was deemed worthy to be initiated into the Drikung order; the path of assassins; one of the highest honors attainable by those who serve Khaine. Now aged twenty, Inodhill had recently completed his training, and was given the code name ‘Purple Asp’. The colors represent which master or mistress he was under, in this case, mistress Kimianne, and the animal was just a moniker thrown in to confuse any who might be listening in.

The Drikung order was started by the dark lord as a personal bodyguard for his representatives on earth, the Matriarchs of Akanista. For who better to guard against an assassination attempt then an assassin himself? Bound by a blood oath to serve Khaine’s representatives, they were the perfect bodyguard. Rarely seen and spoke about only in whispers, they were also used to conduct assassinations of high ranking, or high profile people in any nation. Regular assassinations, however, were delegated to the ‘rank and file’ assassins. These were members of Akanista’s populace that joined the monastery by design. These ‘contract assassinations’ were what brought in the gold for the monastery.

Inodhill remembered the first time he did high level sentry duty. High level literary meant being high up in the canopies of trees. For the monastery, like most of Akanista’s towns and buildings, were partly built into the trees themselves. Looking down, the monastery looked like a wooden orb with four tentacles reaching out into the darkness. The assassins were all housed in the right most ‘tentacle’. The other three wings held trainees of other disciplines; Poison/Antidote, Spying/Information Gathering, and the last ‘tentacle’ housed Khaine’s chosen, wielders of his magical energy who devoted their time researching into new ways to aid the other three schools.

No name has ever been given to those of the last tentacle. Simply called the monks of Khaine, they were shrouded in such secrecy that it sort of became taboo to even discuss them. Latest rumors seem to indicate a new deadly weapon that could kill from a distance equal to that of a longbow, and twice as simple to use. Other sources suggested that these weapons used metal balls as projectiles.

The masters and mistresses of the monastery were assigned members from each of the three schools. Some of these groups were small and mobile, with up to six or eight members. Others were larger, with members trained to operate for months in another nation under assumed identities, tracking their marks till the most opportune moment to eliminate them. Inodhill was part of the later, and his group usually handled the delicate assassinations of those whose deaths were demanded by Khaine. Targets included deserters –much like Corvhale this afternoon –, and priests of other gods who he decided were getting too powerful for his liking.

Inodhill let out a deep sigh at that thought. Corvhale fit those two descriptions perfectly. Once a master at the monastery and Inodhill’s trainer for a period, Corvhale apparently found a way to break the blood oath and flee the forest. Inodhill had wanted to ask Corvhale about that secret, but he dared not. For Khaine was ever watching, ever present. Everything he knew revolved around Khaine’s word. He wanted to live another life. But he was powerless.

In an uncharacteristic drop in his guard, Inodhill started to drift off to sleep, leaning against a chimney.

“Our mark?”

“Another priest, this one in Tzaran.”

“Time frame?”

“The usual, two to three months.”

“Why you?” Kohan’s eyes widened at that question, a look of incredulous shock crossed his face.

“What do you mean, ‘why me’? Because I’m the best damned scout Khaine has in his service, that’s why!”

“Precisely so. Kim… Mistress Kimianne rarely sends you along on assassinations, you’re usually out by then. Where’s Malachi?

“Did you not know? He fell… Apparently some winged human did him in…”

“Winged human? A Sorcerer’s minion?”

“Ah…I…I don’t know?”

“The best…Right…” Kohan raised his hands in defeat, and trailed behind Inodhill for the rest of the walk to the supply/prep room. Inodhill was surprisingly quick-witted today. But it did not come as too much of a surprise to Kohan. A trip to a tavern –or the local canteen in the absence of one –, some strong drink, and a lass on your lap were more then enough to make a man re-vitalized again. And what was that expression the Karadians like to say? ‘As right as rain’?

But the lass on Inodhill’s lap last night was no ordinary tavern wench, it was his love and partner, Avenda. Now that was quite a potent mix. Even Kohan understood the power of love, albeit vaguely.

Kohan seldom had the trouble of figuring out moral dilemmas. To him, the word of Khaine was law, and everything else came second. When he received his orders today, however, he was slightly troubled. He had never performed a mission quite like this before.

But two things held his resolve in check. One was his oath to serve Khaine, and the other was the promises made by Kimianne. Ah sweet Kimi, the glorious glow of Khaine’s dagger would pale beside her.

Kohan blanched at that blasphemous thought, worried that Khaine himself was listening in. He continued his walk a few moments later when he realized he was still alive, and that Inodhill was tapping his feet irritably.

“Alright alright, keep your pantaloons on…”

***

Several vine crossings later, they arrived at the supply/prep room. They would have to prepare gear that would last them several months. They were to travel to another country several leagues north from Akanista for the assassination. Most of the things they will need were to be gotten on location, the only things they would be getting from this room were their weapons and several enchanted items, if they had any.

The Calm

She liked having him in her bed. It made her feel safe and loved, emotions very rare in their world. There were lovers, yes, but who knew when they would next see each other? The life of an assassin is not an easy one, but it was all she, all they, knew. And they knew to take comfort and solace in whatever peace they found.

She giggled as he looked into her eyes and spoke her name. She could feel his love for her, as strong and as endless as the cosmos.

“Yes?” she yearned to know what he would say. Silently she berated herself. She was like some child who knew not her limits.

“Let’s leave. Let’s leave all this behind. Escape to someplace else. Start another life…”

“’Whatever are you talking about? You should know better then to say such things aloud. Especially here, in the Monastery!”

“I care not. Arrangements have been made. ‘Shiko and her gang will help get us out. It IS possible to leave.”

“Say no so, my love. Inclined I am to believe you, even if it involves that half-breed wench ‘Shiko. But the very idea you are suggesting… It is suicide!” Her breathing started to hasten. Countless emotions filled and drained her in that one instant.

“Avenda…calm down, you’re starting to speak funny again.”

After A Storm...

It was a week before he could sit upright, even with the aid of mighty healing magic. It was a month before he could walk. And he walked now, to the edge of the floating plains, and cast his gaze down to the mortal world before him. A delicate flower blossomed at the very edge, and to even hazard attempt to retrieve it would mean certain doom for one of his physical state.

But Inodhill did not care about the flower. He did not care for anything at all, in fact. He was numb to the world. What was the use of his continued existence in this world? The metal shot should have pierced his chest but a few inches higher, and he would not have to suffer this torment. He felt her hand go limp in his, he felt her death. Then he felt nothing.

Inodhill felt his chest wound. Where the metal bullet had hit him. Even through the bandages he could feel the long sinuous line where they had sewed him up. He felt a wave of immense grief well up inside him. He wanted to scream, to let out a long, soul-cleansing scream. But he could not. He could scarce breathe without pain, let alone scream. He fell to the grass in a heap, precariously close to the edge of the floating plain. His walking stick rolled off the edge and fell, silently down to earth, but Inodhill paid it no heed, for he was buried deep within his own grief, weeping silently.

“It would not do to see you plummet to your death so soon after our healers have patched you up so nicely. It would be an insult to their craft.” The unmistakably melodious voice of Nadeshiko brought Inodhill back to the present. And to the fact that he was kneeling at the edge of a floating plain of land miles from the surface he knew so well.

“What exactly are you, ‘shiko? And where are we?” Inodhill did not bother looking over his shoulder.

“Me? Humph. I’d think you’ve guessed that by now. I am Seraphin. And this,” she waved her hand in a general circle, “Is our home, the Floating Plains of Alderon”

“Heh, well I guess that particular myth is true then, the Seraphin Guardians from Alderon, sent to the mortal world to guard the 49 Seals…” Inodhill turned round then, grimacing as sharp pain shot up his spine, “What next? You going to tell me that our gods are simply another race of mortals who have found the secret of immortality?”

Nadeshiko simply smiled at the mortal assassin. Inodhill’s cynic smirk slowly dissolved in to a stunned, slack-jawed look.

“No…” But before Inodhill could continue, Nadeshiko placed her fingers to his lips, a gesture for silence. Leaning in close, she spoke in a soft whisper.

“It does not matter if your gods were mere mortal sorcerers who chanced upon the secret to immortality and unspeakable power. Knowing that fact does not change anything, does it?”

“So what, in the bloody hells are you trying to say woman?!?” Inodhill started to yell, frustrated at her cryptic roundabout talk. But he fell to the grass gasping before he could even get a syllable out.

Nadeshiko was hovering at Inodhill’s side in an instant, her gossamer wings beating too rapidly for the eye to see.

The Seraphin were a paradox. They were of human build and appearance, but they had these wings on their back that looked like that of dragonflies. The wings were slightly longer than an arm’s length, yet they could beat at an impossibly fast rate, producing effortless lift.

---

OOC: okay. I’m loosing it…I cant write anymore. I gotta sleep. Dance lessons tomorow

Chapter One - i) Departures And Arrivals

Inodhill could not honestly blame him. After all, it was not everyday that your own shadow stalked you; so when Corvhale thought he saw a Drikung assassin behind him, it was only natural that he should panic. Besides, he had a real reason to.

Scrambling out from the shadow of the alley he was walking through, Corvhale tripped on an uneven flagstone and fell onto the gritty main street of the dock town of Kakuo. Muttering to himself, Corvhale brushed as mud off himself as was possible and continued his hurried shuffle to his house, blinking the slight drizzle out of his eyes in the process.

Trying his hardest not to seem too conspicuous, Corvhale slipped into his house, a quiet two storey wooden building off in a corner, beside the lonely warehouses. Once the door was safely shut behind him, Corvhale breathed a huge sigh of relief. With his fear nagging at him he gritted his teeth and pushed off from the door. If that was really a Drikung assassin, he would not be far behind. He was about to head up the stairs when he let out a squeal as a hand grabbed him.

“I’ve always wondered how you people managed to even move in all that clothes. What’s your secret, Merchant? You have plenty, do you not?” The voice was soft, yet sharp; and the words drawn out, reminding Corvhale of a snake hissing.

Corvhale turned, haltingly, towards the speaker, his words stuck in his throat. He broke into sweat, even though it was a rather cold day. The figure was standing in front of the window beside the door, his cloaked form silhouetted against the light from the setting sun.

Corvhale was about to speak, to say something, when he felt a sharp pain in his side, the stranger had stabbed him! And he had not even seen him move!

“Save it, merchant, I’m not in the mood for conversations. You made me wait in this sty of a house while you took your time stumbling the long way across the docks.” The shadowy figure was leaning in, whispering. This close, Corvhale could make out the stranger’s familiar features.

“Y-Y-You! Listen to m-me. T-There is a way out, fr-fr-from all of this! The All-”

“Be quiet, you stammer enough when uninjured. And besides, why, even for all the gold in the world, should I even listen to you?” At that, the stranger drew back and turned to look out the window.

“Th-the All-” Corvhale was cut off again as the stranger spun on him in anger.

“Quiet! ‘Th-Th-Th!’ What? Are you a snake now? You turned your back on your god in favour for the jealous One-God? The Allfather is dead! The Children killed him!”

Corvhale sputtered, he could feel his life draining out of him, but he tried one last time to save the student he once loved as his own son.

“Allfather…Alive! Deceiver was th-the one…killed!” Corvhale drew in a shuddering breath. He was succeeding. He could see a slight slump in the assassin’s posture.


“Truly? Perhaps, but you know us Corvhale, our lives are given to Khaine. So it makes no difference, does it?” The assassin turned to look at the fat merchant again. But he was unmoving, not even breathing. The assassin frowned and stroked the pommel jewel of his dagger sheathed at his belt. After a moment, the assassin was seeing things in the infrared spectrum, and he saw the merchant’s body rapidly cooling, a sign of death.

The hilt had the carving of an asp coiled round it, with its head biting a ruby. Unknown to any outside the Drikung order, this enchanted ruby granted its user vision in any spectrum he wished, amongst other abilities that might come in useful to those in the assassination business.

Sighing, the assassin retrieved his katar and cleaned the blood on one of the merchant’s many layers of clothing. It was a curious looking dagger that was actually made of three blades folded into one. When the middle crossbar was squeezed, the blades would open up, much like a pair of scissors.

Returning the katar to its sheath on his left arm, the assassin then turned to leave. As he reached the door he turned and tossed a gold coin in the general direction of the dead merchant. The coin bore the symbol of the Drikung, the royal assassins. So when the body was found later, people would know that this murder was ordered by the royal family.

Standing in front of the house he came out of, Inodhill took in a deep breath of the sea air. And instantly regretted it. So-called ‘fresh’ fish were being unloaded from a ship docked not a score meters from where he was.

His mood now permanently spoiled for the rest of the day, Inodhill drew the hood of his cloak over his head in a huff. There was nothing to see anyway, the whole of the docks was a picture of gloom and grudging acceptance of the way things in life was.

Sighing, Inodhill turned down an alley and disappeared.

***

His contact was over an hour late. As usual. Sitting in a corner booth nursing a mug of warm mead, Inodhill hardly spared a glance as Kohan burst in the inn’s door. Loud and boisterous, you could hear him from over a mile away, but he could be silent when he needed to. Always the performer, he’d timed his entrance with the thunder outside, so in effect, he stepped into the common room with a loud ‘Boom’.

“Humph, some audience you are” Kohan muttered to no one in general. Glancing around, Kohan saw nothing but the usual characters you would find in a tavern set beside a harbor. Half-drunk sailors having a fist fight after months at sea; serving wenches bringing food and drink to sober customers while neatly stepping just out of reach of groping hands; ‘Companions’ from the nearby whorehouse reliving customers of their heavy purses. And the smell of wild pig roasted on a split above the fireplace at the back wall.


After several moments of searching, Kohan finally caught sight of Inodhill and picked his way across the floor, snatching a pitcher of ale from the tray of a passing wench. He countered her glare with a couple of silver coins tossed her way.


“Do you always have to choose the dinkest corner of every inn, tavern, or bar you go to?”


Inodhill eyed Kohan’s face over the rim of his mug, not too sure what to make of that question. Kohan’s grey eyes were wandering all over the room, resting occasionally on particularly well endowed bosoms. Plain featured, with a well disguised charismatic streak in him, he was a good information gatherer, for firstly, he did not stand out in anyone’s memories, and secondly, he had a way of making women talk…And it did not involve gold. Well, not much anyway.

“I sit where I very well choose, what use is free will if we do not use it?” “Heh, what use is your life if you abuse that free will?” Kohan chuckled and waved for Inodhill to be silent. Stroking his own dagger’s hilt and pommel jewel, Kohan murmured and incantation; it took a moment for Inodhill to realize what he had done. Kohan had conjured an orb of privacy around the two of them. That ment that no one outside the orb could hear what was being said inside. But the orb worked both ways, preventing those inside from hearing anything else, other then themselves.

“It is done?” Kohan leaned in close, eyes belying the calm set of his visage.


“Of course it is done, since when have you started asking redundant questions?” Inodhill was slightly annoyed at that question, for a reason he knew not. Kohan had every right to question him on the status of the target. Perhaps it was the manner in which the question was put across, implying that Inodhill was but a dog with its leash tightly held by the matriarchs of Akanista.


Kohan leaned back, obviously relieved. “You do know that the priests of the Allfather would have gained considerable might if they had managed to grouped together and rebuilt the Altar.”


“I care not for the doings of preists of other gods.” Inodhill leaned against the wall and set his soft leather boots on the table, right hand fingering a dart tucked under his tunic.

“Speak you truly? Oho, Your sudden change in posture suggests otherwise, and the fact that your latest mark was once a Drikung makes no difference to you? He was a master too, your master, no less.” Kohan was leaning across the table; his eyes that of a predator waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

Like I said, never predictable, never constant. Dangerous. Inodhill chose his words carefully, you never knew when any of the Mistresses would be listening in on the conversation with the aid of magic.

“I kill who I must, when I must. I am bound by the blood oath demanded by Khaine at the Altar.” Kohan’s piercing grays widened at Inodhill’s formal tone, then narrowed into a glare.

"Even Avenda? The whole monastery knows of you two, Inodhill, don’t feign innocence.”

Inodhill was mildly surprised at that statement. He knew that the whole cadre of assassins would find out eventually, but not this quickly. Once again, he’d underestimated the power of gossip aided by female enthusiasm. Women…He could scarce keep his forthcoming sigh in check.

A wave of sound flowed in between them. The daggers had useful enchantments, to be sure, but they lacked the power required to sustain them over long periods of time.

“Well?” Kohan was tapping his pewter cup somewhat impatiently.

“Even Avenda, But rest assured, she would not betray Matriarch Lucille, may she live forever.”

“You seem awfully quick to come to her un-called for defense…”

“I tire of this Kohan. You know full well where our loyalties lie, mine and Avenda’s, and you know too, that we are unable to betray our mistresses, even if we wanted to. Now state the details of my next mission and be gone!” Inodhill was still in his lounged position, his hands were still relaxed, there was no indication that he was about to strike, but those who knew him were wise enough not to try their luck.

“Very well, Purple Asp,” Kohan grinned, using Inodhill’s code name, “Your next mission should be easy enough for you. Mistress Kimianne likens it to plucking berries. ” He paused, and started his infernal tapping again. Inodhill was about to toss his mug of mead in his face when he noted a particular rhythm to the tapping. It was a code. Kohan began to speak again.

“Return to the monastery within 2 weeks,” Do not return so soon."You are free to do as you please till then. But you know the rules.”It is a trap. Meet me in two nights. Edge of forest.

It had been sometime since Inodhill had the occasion to use this code, so it took him a little while to decipher the code while listening to Kohan’s spoken instructions. Inodhill blinked. A trap? What in Khaine’s unholy spit is Kohan talking about? Inodhill sighed and double tapped the table. An affirmative sign.

Kohan gave a ghost of a smile and rose from his seat. He had not gone two steps when a serving wench intercepted him with a coy brush of his arm. It was the same wench he’d tossed the coins at. And she was looking decidedly friendlier.

Inodhill could not help but shake his head at the sight. Kohan exchanged a few sentences with the wench, mostly promises of passion, and looked back at Inodhill, thinking to show off his new catch of the night, but Inodhill had already left, unseen, unheard. Kohan snorted and headed for the rooms on the second level, arm around the girl.

ii) To Catch A Snake

Inodhill crept along the rooftops of Kakuo; long after the sun had dipped beneath the sea. His cloak wrapped around him like an unholy aura, distorting his form, blending him in with the shadows. Inodhill quite liked the cloak. It was comfortable and had plenty of pockets. He was really particular whenever it came to sorting his assassin’s gear. Made of enchanted materials, it adapted to the atmospheric temperature, thus it kept the heat in when the weather was cold or wet, and kept the heat out when it was hot and humid.

He’d been presently surprised when Mistress Kimianne had presented him with the cloak, along with the enchanted dagger. It was said that only those who had gained the favor of Khaine or one of his representatives here on earth could properly use these items to their fullest effect.

It was highly unlikely that he’d gained the favor of Khaine; those of the monastery who had any rank worth mentioning would know of it. And so would the Matriarch herself. So it had to be one of his representatives then. That would mean the Matriarch Lucille, or several of the Mistresses in the monastery. Rarely had Khaine granted favor to a male.

Inodhill brushed aside those thoughts. His function in his society was to serve his queen, and through her, his god, not to ponder or question the status quo. Perhaps that was what made him so dissatisfied with his lot in life. He was an orphan. Every other Drikung was also an orphan. He’d displayed impressive dexterous abilities as a child.