Rose Boy
Author: Michael-Scott Earle
Date: 2015-12-22 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Rose Boy has trained twenty-four years to be the best assassin this world has ever known. Tonight he will take revenge on the indomitable ruler who killed his love. Even if it costs him his life.

by Michael-Scott Earle

The tavern was once called The Banished Mermaid, but the lettering of the script had faded into the worn wood of the sign. The whimsical carving of a frolicking mermaid no longer hung from its perch. The Dogs’ Den was now scrawled in dark reddish brown paint. Maybe it was blood.

The sun had begun its death a few minutes ago, and the only sources of light were the noxious smelling whale fat torches haphazardly lining the streets. The flame in front of the tavern was not lit yet, but the slave trader across the street had set the fires in his braziers so that the public could clearly see his wares.

I had last visited this bar when it was still known by its former name. I spent the afternoon with my father and a few of his town friends. They were an eclectic group of merchants, farmers, and traders. They would sit around a stout table drinking foaming mugs of beer, exchanging stories about the sea, trade, women, and what manner of soil treatment led to the largest vegetable harvest.

I almost didn’t want to open the battered door to this bar because I knew the inside would be in worse condition than the exterior. But my mission would not be delayed. I’d traveled for twenty-four years to be back at this place, and this was the beginning of the end for me and the tyrant who ruled this world.

Inside was much worse than I could have imagined. The walls were caked with dirt and ash. Every wooden surface was soiled with vomit or beer. The floors were thick with sticky booze and stale, slippery grease.

The room stank of vomit, spoiled beer, violence, piss, blood, and the three whale fat lamps that the management believed were enough to light the place sufficiently. In the alcove of the entrance a table meant for stowing weapons sat empty. There were no blades on the beaten wood and the first group of men I saw wore their swords with bravado.

The Dogs.

I supposed the name was fitting for the tavern. These were the soldiers of Raltenor the Conqueror. They had helped him conquer dozens of countries until his fist closed around my own land of Sailtemp. Once he took my land, the rest of the world followed and the plunge into absolute darkness was complete.

“Wench! Another beer!” one of the armored men called. His beer cup was full and it sloshed out of the container when he swung his arm in the air. His cronies cackled in amusement. The barmaid tentatively approached the men, her steel collar revealed her status as a slave. From the bruises, cuts, and gashes on her exposed skin, I guessed that she was no better treated than the building.

Perhaps this land would change after Raltenor was dead. Perhaps someone else would just take his throne and be an even more vicious ruler. It didn’t matter to me what happened after the Conqueror died. I only cared that he did, and did so by my hand.

It was my life’s work.

Forty men and a few female slaves occupied the small area of the bar. The noise they made was loud, drunk, and full of malicious intent, but I guessed the majority of the risk was carried by the poor women wearing steel collars. Even as I watched, one of the girls struggled to escape the clutches of a large bearded thug that grasped her breast. Another man grabbed her other breast and then they threw her onto the table in the corner. Four of the drunken men began to take off their pants while the first two held her down.

I glanced away from the scene and slid through the throngs of drinkers like a shadow. Most of the customers were Dogs, but I guessed a few to be mercenaries or hired bruisers. The majority wore swords, a few carried axes, and all of the patrons looked ready to prey upon anyone that seemed weak. After a few twists through the crowd, I came to the far edge of the bar and leaned against the sticky counter there.

“What’ll ya have?” the greasy barkeep asked. A thin film of oil covered his bald head and only one of his eyes worked. The other was a murky ball of cancer and it gazed off into the distance when he glared at me.

“Do you carry Oar Ale?” I leaned over the counter and tapped upon the wood twice. It was the signal to indicate to him that I wanted to collect on the deal that my contacts had arranged.

“Eh. I’ve got some out back. Meet me there in a few minutes.” He turned down the length of the wood bar and then busied himself with another order. I moved through the throng again and tried not to glance upon the four men having their way with the slave girl in the corner.

The back haunches of The Dogs’ Den sat on the docks of the Sailtemp Bay. Once the harbor had been the scene of bustling activity and served as the heartbeat of Sailtemp’s flourishing trade center. Now the bay was a mishmash of rotting wood gangways and floating garbage. The harbor could have housed fifty ships, but only three hulking barges squatted in the dark, dirty water.

They were slave vessels.

I heard the door to the back of the tavern open and the uneven eyed man exited. He took a few steps toward me and then glanced around nervously.

“Do you have the coin?” he whispered.

“Do you have the boat?” I answered.

“Coin first.” He raised his palm and his fingers twitched like a dying insect. I debated killing him and searching for the vessel my contacts had promised. However, a deal had been made, and I wanted to bring as much honor to this horrible world as I could before I left it for the afterlife.

My fingers reached into my padded vest and found the small bag of coins intended for him. I pulled it out and placed it in his hand. He yanked his arm away from me as soon as he felt the leather purse, and then opened the strings to count the coins.

“Been a long time since I’ve seen gold,” he remarked as he studied a coin. He sunk his teeth into the flat of the piece and then nodded in satisfaction.

“It’s over here.” He gestured around the corner and I followed him into a darker part of the harbor alley.

“This wasn’t easy to come by. You have powerful connections.” He pulled back a burlap tarp, exposing a small row boat. It was sleek and painted black. Every vessel that entered or left this harbor city had to be cleared by the Conqueror’s guards, and rowboats were outlawed unless they belonged to a slave ship.

“I can only guess where you will use this thing,” he remarked while he tapped the side of the boat with his foot.

“Oh. You can guess?”

“Eh. You’re gonna break into the fortress. Rumor is that there is a passageway deep in the Crag that a small row boat like this could--“

My dagger tore into his throat and his words turned into a guttural sound of panic. The bag of coins fell out of his grasp and he tried to reach up to his gushing esophagus to stop the blood. Too much poured through, his one good eye widened in horror.

My blade struck again and carved a canyon through his skull. The barkeep was already dead, but now he would stop twitching. It was unfortunate that he had to die, but he had been correct about my mission tonight, and news of assassination attempts were prized by Raltenor’s Dogs. The ten gold pieces were enough to feed a family for five years, but I didn’t want to risk my objective on the hope that the man would not be greedy.

The tarp that hid the boat now hid the body, and I snatched up the bag of coins from the ground. I had little need for the money and would have preferred to donate it to someone, but my time was short and I might still use the gold in some unforeseen manner.

I had learned to prepare for the unexpected.

The boat was heavy, but I dragged it the forty feet required, and then slid it into the dark waters of the harbor. I checked over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed the noise, but the closest ship was docked half a mile away, and the last purple rays of twilight combined with the shadow of the tavern had kept me concealed. I tied the small craft to the edge of the rotten gangway and then returned to the back of The Dogs’ Den. Half a dozen fragrant piles of trash squatted between the pier and the door of the tavern. In one of them I had hidden two infiltration packs. I pulled them from the refuse and then returned to my boat. I set them carefully into the vessel and then looked up to the north side of the city.

To the Crag Castle.

The last bits of sunlight still illuminated the magnificent towers like sparkling glass. They stood high upon the sharp mountain top like a diamond on a block of dark stone. The spiraling towers were unchanged, except that they now flew the black and gold colors of Raltenor the Conquer, instead of the stylized rose banners that had once represented Sailtemp.

I reached towards my chest and dug my fingers past the light armored pads of my vest. Deep in a pocket over my heart rested a small patch of embroidered cloth. The movement was second nature to me now and I pulled out the piece of worn cloth to gaze upon its beauty once more.

For perhaps the last time.

The dingy, gray patch was the size of my palm, its corners were rough with age. In the center of the fabric was a single red rose, embroidered with care and love by the girl that had once meant everything to me.

She still meant everything to me.

“You will die tonight.” I looked up to the castle and my eyes focused on the black banners depicting a golden fist clasping a skull. I glanced again at the embroidered rose and carefully put it back in my chest pocket.

The sunlight had almost faded. There would be no moon tonight, the tide would be low, and the ocean currents would be the calmest of the year. There was no better time to exact my revenge than tonight, and I had done a lifetime of work to prepare for the next few hours.

I lowered myself into the boat, untied the line, grabbed the oars, and rowed towards the back side of the Crag.

Nothing would stop me from avenging my love.

“Rose Boy!” Her voice rang out like perfectly tuned bells, invigorating me like a cool drink of water. “Where are you?”

“In the garden!” I yelled up to the balcony above me. She stood upon the curved edge of the marble railing and waved down to the ground where I tended her rose bushes. I waved in return and was rewarded by the most beautiful smile in the world. The breeze from the ocean caught her flowered summer dress and it blew sideways along with her curly, blonde hair.

“May I come down and visit you?” she shouted while she attempted to wrangle her long hair with her left hand.

“You are the Princess; you can do whatever you please.”

“You are silly. I want to know if you are busy. I don’t want to interrupt your work or your father will be angry.”

“I am never too busy for you, Princess.” She smiled again and my heart warmed the rest of my body.

“Good! I made something for you!” she teased.

“What did you make for me?”

“I’ll show you! You will love it. I worked very hard on it!” She fluttered her delicate white hand and then dashed away from the railing. What did she want to give me? Something she had made?

“I should have a gift to give her as well,” I muttered to myself. I looked around and thought about what I could give to the beautiful princess. There was nothing I owned of value besides the clothes I wore, my gardening tools, and the responsibility of tending the rose bushes beneath her room.

My father was the Grand Gardener of the Sailtemp Dynasty. We had many such bushes scattered through the Crag Castle, but these were my responsibility, and I prided myself in my work. These flowers were the ones she saw first every morning, the ones that scented the air she breathed. Their perfection was a tribute to her, proof of my love and dedication. The time I spent here, obsessively tending them, was time spent nearer to her. Their leaves were lush, each one a deep, healthy green, quickly removed at the first sign of blight or brown. The blooms were equally flawless, maturing from tight, smooth buds of pink, gold, violet, cream, and crimson to glorious blossoms of incomparable beauty. Their petal pink softness was matched only by the smooth skin of my love, in the blush of her cheeks when she smiled at me.

I sorted through the flowers. At this time of year, most of them were a few weeks away from blooming, but one was ready, half opened, fresh and fragrant, yet still a few days from reaching its full glory. It was a pink variety that turned a darker red along the inside of its wondrously soft petals. Perhaps she would value this one above the others because I gave it to her.

“I found you!” She skipped to me with a coy smile. Her hands hid behind her back and she shook her head to toss the golden tendrils from her face. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, but I found them more beautiful than the sea below the castle.

“This is for you.” I handed her the pink rose. She wiggled her body and her smile grew even bigger.

“That is very nice of you, Rose Boy.” She kept her right hand behind her back but accepted the rose with her left. She raised it up to her nose and closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of the pink petals, their silky tips brushed her cheeks, matched in color and texture.

“This is for you.” She extended her right arm and handed me a piece of cloth. It was brilliant white, and I wiped my dirty hands on my dirty pants before I allowed myself to touch it.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“It is beautiful,” I said. There was a rose embroidered on the cloth, and I couldn’t even comprehend the intricacy of the small knots of thread she had used to craft the design. The cloth felt thick, and I guessed that this square of fabric was probably worth much more than all of my gardening tools.

“Thank you! It took me a month to stitch.” Her cheeks blushed red and I felt my own face flush.

“I am not worthy of such a gift, Princess.” My father’s stern warning came to my mind. The Princess was of age and would be wed to a noble, perhaps even a king or prince, within the next few months.

Not a common boy.

He said I should feel blessed enough to have a position within the castle walls, and not risk it becoming too familiar with the Princess.

“Of course you are worthy of such a gift.” She closed her blue eyes and smelled the flower again. “You love me and I love you. We are supposed to give each other nice presents!” Her eyes sparkled, sunlight glinting off smooth seas, and I quickly forgot my father’s words of caution.

The Crag jutted from the top corner of the bay like a hand pointing to the gods. The northeast side of the peak touched the land, but a traveler could only reach the fortress by taking a two-mile stretch of paved road up steep switchbacks. Each turn of this path was protected by a thick wall and an even thicker steel gate guarded by twenty of the Conqueror’s Dogs.

When I was much younger and first began my mission, I had considered finding a way up the steep road and into the main gate of the castle. Eventually I realized that such an endeavor would be too risky. The Conqueror was hated by nearly all of his subjects, and the Dogs were fanatic in their searches of each person and supply cart that entered through the gate.

So I had to get more creative.

The south side of the Crag faced the bay, and the west side faced the open ocean. There were no roads on these sides, only impossibly steep cliff faces relentlessly pounded by the spray of harsh ocean waters. There were countless tales of Sailtemp’s most skilled climbers attempting to traverse the steep west and south sides of the Crag. They all ended in tragedy.

But I knew a secret.

The Crag had a passage up through its heart. It was a three-foot wide shaft that served as the main sewage dump into the ocean. I knew of the place because I had lived in the castle until I was fifteen. I spent my scant leisure time exploring its vast halls and speaking to the other servants who worked to support the Dynasty, learning all the castle’s secrets and mysteries.

I had used the shaft to escape from the fortress when Raltenor the Conquer had sacked the Crag Castle.

I pulled on the oars again while I navigated the dark waves. The lip of the ocean smashed into the foot of the Crag with a devastating thunder. My palms began to sweat against the wood of the grips, and I forced a deep breath out of my mouth. The fear was natural and expected. This would have been a nearly impossible feat with similar conditions during the day, and I made the attempt at night. I had every reason to be nervous, but I knew my purpose, and the Monks of Alacor had bestowed upon me countless years of physical training. This was just another challenge to overcome.

I steadied one oar against the angry current and reached into the larger of my two packs. Inside was a hooded lantern with an optical focus. It was a tool of burglars, assassins, and spies. Instead of using whale fat as fuel, it relied on very expensive kerosene that burned bright and pure, with little smoke or weight. The lamp had a switch inside to create a spark, and I pushed on it a few times to ignite the silk wick.

The device worked as I expected, and I opened the lens of the hood to form a ray of focused light. Then I adjusted the dark flaps of the shades and pointed the beam at the foot of the Crag. My small boat rocked against the waves, and I felt despair fill my stomach as I passed the light rapidly over the sheer face of the Crag. My quest would end before it began if I didn’t find the passage. I would have to go back to planning or risk scaling the wet cliffs. The former option was disappointing and I doubted I would be able to think of another method into the castle.

The latter option would be the final, foolish act of a desperate man.

Then I saw the cave. I had floated too far south, and I closed the lamp shade before taking to the oars again. The water pushed against the base of the Crag and then attempted to drive me away from destruction. I continued to pull on the thick, black wood until I finally reached the mouth of the passage.

It was as I remembered. A narrow shaft dug into the foot of the mountain just as a rat hole would burrow into the wooden wall of a home. The cramped passage looked unsafe for even the most skilled of swimmers to navigate.

But I had trained for dozens of years and I had no doubts about my mastery of the water and the vessel I controlled.

I yanked on the handles of the oars with all my strength and drove the small boat into the tight walls of the cave.

“Go!” my father screamed and pushed me through the doorway ahead of him. I stumbled and fell against the tiles with a shout of terror. My whole body felt numb and my vision blurred with tears.

“Get up!” he screamed again and grabbed at my shoulder with his bloody hands. He lifted me up with ease and then we ran towards the stairs that would lead to the cellars of the castle.

“We have to get to the sewage pipes!” Shouts echoed behind us and I heard the door to the tower we had entered crack against a battering ram. We took a few more steps down the hallway and then dashed through another doorway.

“You’re hurt.” My eyes focused on the arrow that penetrated his shoulder, but my father ignored my comment. He’d always been a tough man and never complained about his endless work at the castle.

“This way.” I heard a louder smashing sound behind us and realized the hordes had breached the door. They were already in the courtyard and I didn’t need my father to explain to me that the fortress would soon be overrun by the horrible army.

The defenses of Crag Castle had done little to stop Raltenor the Conquer. His army was impossibly large and composed of berserker warriors. They could withstand untold amounts of pain and had earned the nick name of “Dogs” because of their savage methods of pillaging.

“What about the Princess?” my mouth formed the words before I could consider his answer.

“The King and his family will be killed if they haven’t already. Our life here is over. We have to escape or we will die along with them.” He looked at me and his lips twisted. “Stop crying, damn it! We have to be strong or we won’t survive. You’ve got to be tough. Understand?” I nodded and let him pull me along while I wiped my face and nose.

The screams grew louder. Most of the servants lived in this tower and the shouts of warriors soon blended with the screeches of men and women being butchered. I hoped for a moment that the Dogs would be distracted by their new found victims so we could escape, and then I hated myself for the selfish thought. I knew everyone in this castle. None of them deserved to die.

“Here. We made it!” He lifted a wooden hatch and pointed to a dark ladder. I jumped on the rungs and descended as quickly as my trembling hands would allow me.

I reached the bottom and my father slid down the ladder behind me. The air hung thick with the stench of sulfur and waste. There were half a dozen wide stone tubes that ran the length of the room. These cylinders joined other copper pipes that led down the hall away from us at a slight angle downwards.

“I saw them, this way!” someone shouted from above, and my father’s dark eyes widened with surprise. He grabbed my arm again without a word and we both sprinted toward the tubes.

I heard the boot steps now.

“There!” he hissed, and gestured to a hole in the ground. It looked almost like the stone circle of a well, but instead of a bucket or pump to pull the water out, the dozens of various sized pipes all pointed to the mouth of the opening. The smell was overpowering, and I felt the stench briefly push aside my terror. I gagged against the bitter tang of bile rising in my throat and turned to my father. Surely he didn’t mean for us to slide down the shaft? Even if we somehow made it down the slick sewage passage, we would be dashed against the ocean and the sharp face of the Crag.

“This is the only way.” He seemed to have read my thoughts, and I knew better than to object to his logic. My father was a hard man, and the few times I complained or questioned his authority had quickly resulted in a belt whipping that left my ass bruised for days. He grabbed me by the pants and the scruff of the neck to lift me over the side of the stone wall around the hole.

“Hang on to the edge and I’ll hold you while we slide--“ I heard a wet sound and his eyes grew wide. His mouth closed and opened, but no words came out. He leaned forward and the top half of his body fell over the wall.

A small axe was buried in the back of his skull.

I heard the shouts of the approaching Dogs. I let go of the ledge and grabbed onto my father’s hands. My weight pulled him down and we both started to slide across the slippery sludge-coated walls of the shaft.

Our descent continued into darkness, ending in the cold embrace of the ocean.

I tied my climbing spikes to my oilskin-wrapped boots and secured my claws around the palms of my oilskin gloves, after fixing my other weapons to my body. I had dozens of killing instruments: darts, daggers, short swords, spiked caltrops lined with deadly poison, and a collapsible hand crossbow that folded down to half the size of my fist. I knew each of the weapons intimately and had used them to murder my path to the rank of Master within the Guild of the Mask.

Once I was satisfied with the lay of my climbing tools, I tied my spare oil cloak over my head and waited for the swell of the ocean to lift my rowboat higher. The sea complied with my desire, and I leapt from the dark waters and latched onto the lip of the slime covered shaft with ease. After I felt confident of my grasp, I swung my legs back and forth like a pendulum. Soon I carried enough momentum to bring them up and dig the spikes on the bottom of my boots into the slimy walls of the tunnel. Once they sunk in securely I breathed a long sigh of relief and inched my way up by pushing the oil wrap of my cloak into the slick side, while my legs stood against the other wall.

The hard part was over now.

Perhaps a part of me had expected to die in the water. Or maybe I would have made it into the passage and found that the sewage tunnel was too high to reach, or the walls were too slick. But now that I was climbing up the inside of the tight shaft, I only had to deal with the noxious smell and the nausea it elicited. Those were small prices to pay. I’d been through the rigorous training of the two most powerful warrior sects known, and rose to the very top of their ranks. There was no single person on this world that could match the combined skill of my sword or my assassination techniques.

I was a fitting foil to the most ruthless conqueror that had ever existed.

“Why are you here?” the man asked. His face was tattooed with the visage of a tiger, and he spoke with the empty voice of one who was much older than he appeared.

“I want power.” I was trembling from the cold of the rain but I didn’t care. This was the second week of my solitary kneel outside of the monk’s temple, and I was becoming delirious from the lack of water and food.

“Power?”

“Yes. Power, to become the ultimate weapon,” I answered.

“We don’t make weapons here, Northerner. We learn how to bring our souls into balance with this world. You are wasting our time.” He rose from his cross-legged pose and turned to walk back into the temple.

“I want to kill Raltenor the Conquer,” my words spat into the rain. I wanted to turn my head up to drink the water, but I knew that they watched me constantly for any sign of weakness. These were hard men and I didn’t want to fail their first test.

“Many desire the power to kill that man.”

“He has conquered the Northern nations. He will eventually come here. Someone needs to stop him.” I trembled again and my vision swam in time with the cold rain.

“Why do you believe that someone is you?” I felt like his voice whispered the question in my ear, but the red-clothed monk still stood a few feet away from me.

“Because I will never give up. He took everything from me. He killed my father and raped the woman I love before he murdered her.” The anger brought strength to my words and the tiger-faced man studied me.

“So now you want to give him your life as well?”

“He won’t kill me. I will murder him first.” It was that hope that had pushed me through the endless miles I had traversed to reach their temple.

“You misunderstand my words, Northerner. You will need a lifetime of training to be able to kill Raltenor. He is beyond the reach of mortal men. That is how you give your life to him.”

“I understand. I should have died at the feet of his Dogs, yet I live. I shall have vengeance.” Our eyes met across the dark rain and I saw his ink-stained face smile.

“We do not train people to kill. The answer is no.”

“I am not a person. I am a ghost. I’ve already died.” His eyes opened at my words and he nodded his shaved head.

“What is your name, child?”

“Rose Boy,” I replied, and I tried to keep the hope from showing on my face.

“That is an unusual name,” he said.

“Will you teach me?”

“No. Now leave our temple.” He turned and walked towards the gate of the massive structure. The doors silently opened before him and he entered the courtyard. I stared at his back until the red painted gates shut. Then I stared at them until the rain stopped and the days spun until I couldn’t count them anymore. When my face hit the cold ground I felt my heart begin to beat the last struggles of its life.

Then their hands picked me up from the gravel and carried me inside the temple.

I expected guards at the entrance of the sewage pipes but there were none. Part of me was relieved, but I also felt a bit of disappointment. My ultimate target was the Conqueror, but this would have been the perfect place to kill a few of his Dogs. No one would find their bodies if I threw them down the passage I had just ascended.

I removed my oiled clothes and tossed them into the shaft, then pulled out a spare cloth and wiped off my climbing gear before wrapping it in more oil rags and placing them into my pack. The King’s quarters used to be located at the top of the center tower. Raltenor would probably keep his room there, so I might have to use the devices to scale the rough edges of the spire.

I threw the cleaning towel down the shaft and checked my light armor again. I didn’t see any trace of sewage, so I hoped that I wouldn’t carry the stench of rancid shit with me. My nose could not be trusted for a few more minutes, so I had to rely on my eyesight to judge that I was clean.

I walked into the adjacent room and the memory of fleeing the Dogs returned. The tubes and pipes looked the same as I remembered, and I was thankful that Raltenor only seemed to care about destruction and not upkeep. They could have easily joined the stone tunnels and metal pipes to seal the top of the shaft.

Perhaps they never imagined anyone would be insane or skilled enough to risk the ocean and climb up the sewage tunnel.

I moved to the familiar ladder and listened again. There were voices this time, up above, and I spent a few minutes listening to their conversation before I determined that they were guards playing a game of cards. I guessed that their table was a few feet from the latch above the ladder and I considered how I would be able to eliminate them silently.

Time was often an assassin’s misused tool. If one of my trade waited long enough, there would always come an opportunity to find the target at a disadvantage. However, there were plenty of jobs that involved a deadline, and that often led to compromises or poorly executed strategies.

My deadline was based on the position of the moon and the tide of the ocean, but now that I was inside of Crag Castle there was no rush. I wanted Raltenor to feel my blade tonight but there were still many hours until the sun rose again from her slumber.

So I waited.

Eventually one of the guards remarked that he had to piss, and I heard the sound of his chair legs scooting across the floor. Boot steps sounded above me and I realized that the heavy man was making his way towards the trap door above the ladder.

I slid down the rungs quietly and then hurdled over a larger stone tube that carried sewage. I made no sound as I moved and the darkness of the room concealed my presence perfectly. The man wore red armor with black trim. The markings on his shoulder showed that he was of the lowest possible rank. He belched as he walked past me and his partner chuckled from his position on the floor above us.

I crept out from behind the tunnel and followed the man like a shadow.

He swayed and I wondered if he was drunk. I didn’t smell the scent of booze on him, but then again, I could not really smell anything but shit. He reached the hole of the shaft and undid the buckle to his weapon belt. A few seconds later he had his dick in his hands and a robust stream of piss was flowing into the endless hole.

One of my daggers resembled a needle. It was not sharp and was safe to carry in a thin silk sheaf under my armor. The hilt of the weapon had a perpendicular grip and its point was perfect at penetrating bone. The man felt nothing when I punched the metal icicle into the base of his skull and then lifted his dead body into the hole. There was a slight sound of scraping when his corpse caught onto the lip of the shaft, but once the majority of his mass contacted the slime, he continued to travel silently.

Looks like I got to use the shaft as a garbage chute after all.

I floated to the ladder and ascended the rungs with the sound of smoke. Based on what I had overheard, I surmised that the other soldier sat with his back to the trap door. He didn’t notice me move behind him, and by the time my gloved hand closed around his mouth, it was too late for him to offer any resistance. I pulled him off the chair and threw him down the ladder before he could utter a gasp or scream. His neck broke with the fall and I watched his body twitch a few times before I slid down and dragged the corpse into the room with the shaft.

I cleaned my needle on his leather armor and searched the body for keys or anything else of interest. This guard Dog was also of low rank and I found nothing of value in his pockets. I sheathed my pointy weapon and then lay the corpse to rest in the ocean with his brother.

After I climbed the ladder again I closed the trap door and moved towards the exit to the servants’ tower. In the many years I planned this mission I often debated stealing a Dog’s armor, or perhaps a servant’s uniform, and moving through the castle unencumbered. The strategy would have been a sound one if I possessed any gift of verbal charisma or charm. I was quick with my body, but not with my tongue, and I knew that trying to act as if I belonged in the castle would not play to my strengths.

I also knew every nook and cranny of this massive fortress. There was no need to be anything other than a shadow.

The hallways were tall, and a thick beam of oak ran the length of the ceiling down each one. Whale fat lanterns hung from the beam and support pieces kept the massive weight of the structure from collapsing. In a quick movement I bounced off of the nearest wall and pulled myself up atop the beam above me. A small family of rats started at my sudden appearance and dashed away with squeaks of terror.

It was a good omen.

“My father says that I am to be married soon.” She glanced at me sideways and the ocean wind pulled her hair back so that the tips of the curls brushed against my face.

It felt as if angels were caressing me.

“My father tells me the same.” There was a cold knot in my stomach and it chilled the rest of my body. We had been friends since we could talk, and I loved her more than my own life.

“I wonder who my husband will be.” She smiled coyly at me and turned away from the bay to focus her blue eyes upon my face. My clothes were dirty from the garden, but she had asked me to join her for lunch and I had time to rest from my work. There was still plenty to do, but I would finish all of my tasks today and make my father proud.

“Your father hasn’t told you?” I asked. My heart was breaking into pieces, but I tried to force the lump in my throat down with a powerful swallow.

“No. You are so silly Rose Boy. Why would my father tell me of such things?” Her eyelashes fluttered and my heart danced through its pain.

“Forgive me, Princess. I do not know how you live. I am just an apprentice gardener.” My head bowed sarcastically before her and laughter rewarded my humor.

“You are my gardener Rose Boy, and soon you will be my husband.”

“What?” I felt my jaw drop along with my stomach.

“Yes. I intend to marry you. I told you before that I loved you. Do you love me?” She seemed concerned and her eyes opened wide.

“Yes Princess. I love you with all my heart. But I am just a boy. A commoner. I am not fit to do more than tend to your rose garden. My father says that you shall wed a king of another nation. How can you marry me?”

“Bah! That is why I love you Rose Boy. You are so humble and caring. If you tend to me with as much enthusiasm as you do my flowers, you will be a wonderful husband. My father wants me to marry some other royal buffoon, but it will not happen. I care for no one but you. I've loved you since the first summer we played together.” Tears came to my eyes and I wanted to pull the beautiful girl into my arms. Still, my father had told me many times that my heart would be broken by the Princess and she would never have more than a passing fancy for me. He even warned that he would whip me if our romance caused the King to be upset.

“Princess, I am flattered by your words, but we cannot be together. My father has told me so.”

“Bah again! Your father will do what I tell him. Just like mine does whatever I tell him. I am skilled at manipulating these men.” She smiled again and reached out her hand. I hesitantly returned the gesture and our fingers intertwined.

“You don’t even know my name, Princess.” I laughed and stuck my tongue out at the girl. She had always called me Rose Boy and the name stuck. Now everyone in the castle called me by it, including my stoic father.

“Ha! Of course I do Rose Boy. It is--“A sudden gong sound interrupted her voice and her eyes narrowed. Soldiers filled the courtyard and a quartet of muscular warriors approached us.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded of the man wearing the most ornate mail.

“We are under attack, Your Majesty. Raltenor the Conquer has entered our valley and we must prepare for a siege. Accompany us to the Dynasty Quarters.” His voice was quick and there was no mistaking the fear in his intonation.

“We must bring my fiancé.” She gestured to me, and the guards glanced at each other with obvious confusion.

“I am sorry Princess. My orders were to bring you alone. If your father commands, we will return for the boy.”

“No. Bring him with me. That is an order.” She crossed her arms and stuck her beautiful nose into the air.

“I am sorry, Princess.” The man grabbed her like a sack of potatoes and heaved her over his broad shoulder. She started to scream, kick, and punch his back with her tiny fists.

“You best find your father,” another guard said to me and I nodded. I had heard rumors of Raltenor the Conquer, but I never imagined he would come here. Sailtemp was the most powerful dynasty in the world, and we had not lost a war in centuries.

“Go!” the guard yelled at me when he saw I wasn’t moving. I startled at his request and ran to the part of the garden where my father was working.

The bones of the Crag Castle were as I remembered, but most else had changed dramatically. Where there were once polished floors there were now dirty pools of mud, vomit, blood, and rotting food. Where there once hung beautiful tapestries, there now dangled tattered rags that stunk of strong mold and alcohol. Once this palace had been a shining beacon of beauty and grace, but the hallways were now in worse state than the decrepit tavern I had visited earlier this evening.

I struggled to hold my rage deep in my stomach and repeated the internal mantras of meditation that the Monks of Alacor taught me twenty years ago. The words and rhythm came easily to my mind and I felt my focus return. Anger would not serve me here.

I had started my long journey with the thought of revenge burning in my heart. I traveled for twenty-four years and came to realize that Raltenor needed to be served justice not just to avenge my loved ones, but because of the countless terrors he had inflicted upon this world. Every city, town, and hamlet I visited had a tragic story to tell. Rich fields of grain were now laid to ash. Beautiful daughters were now enslaved to the local sect of Dog warriors. Trade was nonexistent, and everyone felt the pain of famine and disease. The Conqueror was strangling the life from our world and there was no army left to stop him, and no one with enough power to stand against him.

Except for me.

My love was dead and tonight I would die. But my blades would give the future generation a chance to right the last thirty years of Raltenor’s horrible destruction. Maybe the people would flourish again when they knew that the man was no more.

Four slaves walked beneath me carrying silver platters of covered food. They looked malnourished, their ribs poked out of their bare chests painfully. The women had thin garments to conceal their breasts and small thongs to hide their sexes, the men wore loincloths. Cuts, burns, bruises, and animal bite marks decorated their pale skin, and I wondered how much time they had left before one of the Dogs decided to murder them.

“Supniar and Altio were taken to the Throne Room,” one woman said.

“Oh no,” a man whispered. “Did they try to fight?”

“Yes. But the Dogs took them anyway. I pray that I don’t have to be the one to clean up the bodies,” the woman said, and the other three nodded.

“There is another shipment of slaves arriving tomorrow. We will have to train them. Then we will be called to the Throne Room one night.” The four walked out of my earshot and I could not hear them anymore.

Was Raltenor in the Throne Room? I had visited the place three times in my youth and had always felt awe in the presence of the high ceilings, wondrous chandeliers, and the golden dragon throne. It would be harder to get to than the Dynasty Quarters, and I debated for a few minutes where to journey first.

The night was still young and the slaves were moving toward the Throne Room. I weighed my options and decided that I would check there before I made my way up the towers to search for the Conqueror. If he was sitting on the throne it would be next to impossible to kill him undetected. But I did not care about the aftermath of his slaying. My crossbow bolts were laced with a powerful snake poison, and a few drops of the stuff would boil the blood of any living creature within a few seconds. Then I would try to escape the Dogs, but it wouldn't matter if I failed.

I crawled on the top of the beam and took the path I guessed the slaves would have. The oak under my belly intersected vertical beams every fifty yards, and I was forced to examine the corridors below me before I swung myself around them. I would have moved faster if I dropped to the ground, but I didn’t want to risk discovery.

I wouldn’t be able to traverse the ceiling forever though. The towers were connected to each other through open foyers. Each room had high ceilings and grand chandeliers that burned kerosene through diamond encrusted cups. If my memory served correctly, then there would be large fern plants and statues of beautiful, naked dancers scattered through the rooms. I would be able to seek stealth behind them, but my nerves frayed at the strategy. My guess was that neither the plants nor the statues would still be there after twenty-four years of neglect.

I would find a way. There was always a way.

I reached the large double doors to the first foyer and saw that they were cracked open. I listened for a few moments and heard the sound of brutal laughter inside the room. The cackle didn’t sound close to me, so I lowered myself down from the oak beam and moved to the slim opening.

Three Dogs occupied the massive room, along with a few long tables and piles of refuse. The corpse of a slave man lay on top of a garbage heap, rats picked at the flesh of his rotting body, along with dozens of thumb-sized flies. My stomach churned at the sight and my vision blurred. The Dogs were harassing one of the female slaves I had seen earlier, and she was trying desperately to escape them.

“I have a delivery for the Receiving Hall,” she pleaded. Perhaps she had been beautiful when she first arrived at the castle, but now the famine made her hair a dull color, and her bones jutted out of her limbs in a sickly manner.

“It can wait a moment girl. Amuse us for a while. My dick hasn’t been wetted for a few days.” The warrior that held her arm laughed harshly while he gestured at his groin with his other hand.

“Mine either,” another of the red-armored warriors claimed as he wiggled his crotch at the girl. The other three servants stood behind her and she stared at the ground with obvious despair.

“She only has two holes though,” the final Dog said with mock sadness. “I’ll have to wait for a turn.”

“Hey dumbass. Women have three holes. The pussy, the mouth, and the ass. We can each have one.” The first Dog unbuckled his weapon belt with practiced ease.

“Please. I need to deliver this or I’ll be punished,” the woman begged again. The Receiving Hall was normally where the Dynasty Magistrates organized the labor of the castle, and I doubted that the Conqueror would be present there.

“Don’t worry, slave. If you want some punishment we can give that to you,” the second man said. “You there,” he pointed to one of the slave men, “take her tray. We’ll keep her here. Tell no one about this or I’ll have your tongues. Understand?” The slaves nodded and the man struggled to pick the fourth tray off of the table. Then the three turned and exited the room as quickly as they could.

“No. Please. I don’t want this!” she pleaded again and the men began to growl in an animal unison.

Stay out of this, I heard my own voice repeat in my head. If the Dogs were occupied with the woman, I could sneak past them into the next hallway. Then it would be a quick journey to the Throne Room and I could see if Raltenor was there. I wanted to help this woman, just as I had wanted to save the woman who had endured a similar fate in the tavern, but my logical side argued that killing Raltenor would do more good for them, and the countless other women enslaved under his rule, than simply preventing one instance of violence. I tried to steel myself with this reasoning and ignore her cries.

“Please. Someone help!” she screamed, but her own voice betrayed her hopelessness. The men had circled her and they were removing their armor while the first Dog clutched her.

I sighed and stepped through the door. Doing anything to save this woman would jeopardize my entire mission, but I couldn’t help myself. My love had once been in this position. Rumor was that Raltenor raped her every night for a month before he took her beautiful head off of her body and mounted it to a pike outside the main gate.

I had already let one rape happen tonight. My heart couldn’t handle witnessing another.

“You come to us highly recommended.” The woman lounged in the plush leather chair and examined the thick paper of the scroll that had been taken from me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a situation. We normally don’t associate with the Monks of Alacor.” She glanced up from the calligraphy of the scroll to study my face again, and then looked back down to the writing. Finally she set the roll down and pushed the tips of her fingers together.

“This world has gone to shit,” she sighed and glanced at the two muscular men that held onto each of my arms. I could have broken them in half easily, but I doubted that would have given me any favor with the powerful woman known as the Spider.

“Let him go.” They complied and I gently shook my limbs in appreciation of the sudden freedom.

“It says here that you want to kill Raltenor the Conquer. Is that true?”

“Yes Mistress,” I said with a careful nod.

“Mistress? I think I like you already.” Her lips were a dark red and they curled into a scimitar of a smile. She leaned deeper into her chair and twirled a length of raven hair around a slender finger. The woman was beautiful, but there was no mistaking the evil she wore on her shoulders like a comfortable cloak.

“As I was saying: this world has gone to shit. I can’t make any money with Raltenor in charge. The demand for our arts has plummeted to practically nothing, and even the few jobs I do have are bounties from commoners that want to rid themselves of the Conqueror’s magistrates. That will just bring down his wrath and put even more pressure on my guild." She studied me for a moment and her smile faded. Her eyes were such a dark brown that they shone black against the kerosene lantern light.

“So I am interested in your mission. I doubt you can do it though. You’ll need training from my Masters. You’ll have to spend ten years as an apprentice and then another ten as a journeyman before you will be considered a candidate. Raltenor is a walking god. My spies saw him take half a dozen arrows to the chest and shrug them off as if they were beestings.”

“I will kill him.”

She waved her hand to dismiss my words. "I’ve heard thousands of New Bloods tell me that they have the stuff to become Masters. Nineteen out of twenty perish during the first year, and the ones that live don’t do any better the second or third year. We are the Guild of the Mask, and the only reason you are speaking to me now instead of lying butchered in a gutter is because this scroll intrigued me."

“I want to learn. I am a Monk of Alacor, and the letter on your table is proof of my ability.” My mouth forced a smile that I hoped would convince her. I needed her to agree.

“Fine. But even if you survive, you’ll be too old. Our tutelage normally begins in childhood, you look to be twenty-five summers.”

“I am a quick learner.” I had escaped the castle when I was fifteen and roamed for many years before finding the monks. I was thirty-two summers old but I didn't think it would be prudent to tell her.

“Heard that before,” she said as she waved her hand into the air with a spiral flourish. “I’ll put you with Beantee. He trains the children and is light on pupils right now. I’ll check back with him next year, and if you are making progress then I’ll consider reevaluating your training.” She gestured to the two big men and they stepped toward me.

I hit the first one in the throat with a finger strike. Then I spun on my back leg to deliver a side kick to the other grunt. The attack was executed flawlessly, and the man bent around my foot while the air exploded from his lungs.

The first man I hit staggered toward me, dazed yet enraged. I knew he couldn’t breathe, but the guy was big, mean, and had probably grown used to pain. His fist flew out at my jaw but I sidestepped the haymaker, brushed the fist aside to ensure it didn’t accidently hit me, and then smashed my elbow into his nose. His head snapped back and I grabbed his skull and slammed my knee into his face so that he was knocked unconscious.

The second man was on his feet and came at me with a lumbering bear hug. He was faster than the first bruiser, but his wide arms meant that his face wasn’t protected and I jabbed my fingers across his nose and into his eye socket. I felt my fingers dig deep into the squishy orb, and the thug collapsed to the ground instantly. His body twitched with the seizures my jab had pressed through his brain.

A crossbow sang from behind me, and I spun with my arms outstretched. I was quick, or lucky, or a combination of both, and my forearm slapped into the shaft of the bolt and sent the missile wide into the wood wall of the Spider’s den.

The Spider and I stared at each other for a few seconds. If I had to, I could have jumped the desk between us and destroyed her before she could load her crossbow again. But, I knew that this wasn’t the kind of woman that only had one trick handy. She was the Grand Master of the Masks, and I realized that there were probably a dozen hidden assassins with their own weapons pointed at me.

“Those were my two favorite bruisers.” She lowered her crossbow and then set it on the table.

“The monks know how to fight.” I also lowered my arms but kept my body loose in case she changed her mind.

“Perhaps I can expedite some of your training.” Her lips formed the curved smile again. “I am traveling to Belemour. The Conqueror will eventually extend his armies there, but it is one of the last cities with a noble class. There is intrigue, murder, and deceit on everyone’s breath, and the news of Raltenor is only increasing their frenzy. They are like a colony of field mice that knows the wildfires are approaching.”

“Fine. When do we leave?” I asked as I returned her smile.

“Tomorrow.” She looked at the scroll again and raised a puzzled eyebrow.

“Is your name Rose Boy?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“That is the stupidest name I have ever heard.” The Spider leaned her dark head back and let out a mirthful laugh.

I slid a dagger into my left hand and a short sword into my right. The Dogs hadn’t penetrated the girl yet, but they had pushed her to her boney knees. One of the men forced her mouth open while the other two stood behind her and ripped off her thin garment. Their dicks stood erect, and they were so absorbed in their assault that they were unaware of my presence.

The man holding the woman’s mouth seemed to be the most focused on his task, so I approached the two at the rear. I guessed where the right man’s ribs lay, and slid my sword in between them and into his back. He gasped in dismay and I saw the back of his head lower to examine the point emerging from where his heart was supposed to beat.

My dagger wasn’t as elegant as my sword. It ripped across the other man’s exposed neck with a rooster tail explosion of crimson. He gargled in surprise and his hand jerked away from the hips of the slave woman he was about to mount and wrapped around his spraying artery.

“What the fuck?” The third guard noticed the spray of blood and he turned away from pushing his penis into the woman’s jaw. Our eyes made contact for a flicker of a second and I saw the disbelief spread throughout his face.

Then my dagger ripped through his nose and drove into his brain like a hammered stake into soft earth. He tipped over backward and his hands cantilevered in an attempt to steady himself. It was too late though, and he died before his skull cracked against the dirty tile.

“Who are you?” the woman gasped and looked at the three Dogs. “You’ve killed them? How? Why?” Panic formed on her thin face and I realized I may have made a massive mistake.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. They wanted to rape you and I stopped them. Can you stand?” She stared at the corpses and tears ran down her cheeks.

“They will think I killed them.” She began to shake, or maybe she had already been shaking and I only now noticed.

“No one will believe you killed anyone. I doubt anyone will notice their disappearance for a few days. Will you help me?” I pulled her to her feet and realized that her clothes lay tattered on the ground.

“Help you?” she whispered. I wanted to scream. The woman was probably beyond starving and couldn’t think clearly.

“Tell me where to hide these bodies.” I gestured to the corpses.

“Oh.” She looked around at the piles of trash and sniffled back a sob. “There is a trash chute down the hallway.” She pointed at the third exit to the large foyer. “It is the second door on the right.”

“Good. Drag that one,” I indicated the corpse of the man that had been about to violate her mouth. She nodded and then latched onto his shoulders. I grabbed a leg of each of the other men and pulled them across the room and to the door. Their blood leaked all over the dirty floor and I muttered a soft curse. Nothing communicated a murder better than a long trail of crimson left by a dragged body.

Then again, the castle looked as if it had not been cleaned in twenty-four years, and there were plenty of blood stains on the floor already. Perhaps these would escape notice for a few more hours. Either way, I didn’t regret saving the woman from the three men.

I checked the door for noise before I opened it, and once it was ajar I looked into the hallway to make sure there were no Dogs. The corridor was clear, save the scurry of rats between small piles of garbage. I nodded to the woman and dragged the two corpses behind me and into the corridor. Their bodies were heavy, but my arms and back were well-muscled from daily training and I had no problem reaching the second door on the right side.

I checked the door again and then pushed it open. This room was once a kitchen with a massive hanging pit in the center that the Dynasty Chefs used to cure meats. Now the grate was removed and the forty foot drop to the basin below lay exposed. There were piles of trash at the bottom of the pit and I could see rats and strange worm creatures crawl through the endless piles of refuse.

The smell was enough to curl my nose hair, and the flies were thicker than a blanket. I threw the bodies into the hole. Once we finished I grabbed the woman’s bare arm and pulled her out of the stinking room and into the hallway. I checked the door again, and then we walked back into the foyer.

“Do you know where Raltenor is?” I asked her.

“Raltenor?” She tilted her head and seemed confused.

“Yes. The Conqueror. Where is he? Is he in his quarters or the Throne Room?”

“The Conqueror is in the Throne Room,” she drawled and bit her lip.

“Thank you. Continue about your duties. Forget I was ever here.”

“Yes.” She glanced down at the ground. She was still naked and her thin body trembled.

I walked across the room and frowned again at the red smears. It seemed obvious now that the victims were three of the guards, and I wished I had brought something to wash the blood away. I almost thought about asking the girl to do it, but then the chances of her being discovered and interrogated would be much higher. I was damned now, and I’d taken a situation that afforded me plenty of patience and created a time limit. It was a rookie mistake, and the Spider would have shaken her pretty head while making an annoyed “tsk” sound at what my compassion had cost.

I moved to the door heading to the next tower. This corridor should also have an oak beam that I could crawl over to escape notice. I repeated my surveillance of the door and opened it once I thought it safe to proceed.

I stepped into another world.

This hallway was polished to an immaculate shine. The marble on the floor, walls, and ceiling shone a pure white, webbed with gray veining. It was the same marble I recalled from my life in the castle, but I never remembered it being this clean. It was as if the hall were lined in mirrors, the light of the kerosene lamps twinkled in the glassy surface of the brilliant marble. I checked the foyer to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind. Sure enough, that room was the same dank shit hole I recalled.

But this hallway was beautiful.

It would be a challenge. I looked to the ceiling and it reflected my face back down at me. It also showed the top of the oak beam clearly. There would be no way to sneak into the Throne Room without being seen.

I would need to find another way.

“Excellent,” Bargen nodded, and I reset my stance. Then the tiger-tattooed monk launched another series of attacks with his fists. They were as hard as rocks, and I’d actually seen the man crush six-inch thick cords of wood with a single blow from the knuckles. It was a tactic he told me he spent his entire life perfecting, and I didn’t have time to learn the method.

But I did have time to learn how to fight.

His fists were a blur of mist, but I predicted their blows before they even emerged from his shoulder or hip. He didn’t hint at their arrival with his body, but I knew my mind enough to understand the limitations of time and the speed at which we observed combat. My hands reached up to parry his strikes without my consciousness working, and my own palms struck back when his defense became thin.

“Excellent,” he repeated, when I contacted his face for the third time. It had been a few months since any of the monks could land a touch upon my body, and Bargen had come to test my abilities.

“Sticks,” he said, and gestured to the three foot lengths of bamboo that lay on the rack near us. Dozens of other monks observed our sparring session, and one of them, Brother Juniper, tossed a pair to each of us. Bargen and I assumed our stances again and he attacked. These weapons were my favorite, since they most reminded me of swords. They spun in my hands like dancing yellow flames, and each of his attacks exposed many opportunities to strike his midsection, his shoulders, and even his head. The Master’s face remained a sea of calm during our sparring match, but this one was shorter than the unarmed session. At last, I managed dozens of strikes against my teacher and he signaled for us to stop.

“Excellent,” he said again, and we stepped apart. The long pole was next on the list and he failed to damage me with that weapon. Then we tested the chain and the spear. Finally, he dropped the last of our weapons and bowed his head.

“I have a question for you, Rose Boy.” He gestured to the padded mat we stood upon, and I slid to my knees.

“Yes, Master?”

“Will you stay here with us? You have learned much in fourteen years, but we have only begun to teach you of the world within yourself.”

“I am grateful for all you have taught me, Master,” I bowed down before him until my head touched the straw mat, “but I have a purpose for the remainder of my life. I will not rest until Raltenor the Conquer is dead.”

“Then I have a gift for you.” He gestured to the gathered monks and two ran forward. Brother Juniper placed a small scroll on the mat between us, and Brother Xite, a canvas backpack. I knew all of the monks and respected their abilities, but Brother Juniper and Xite had shared my small living space for the last fourteen years. We had become friends during this period and they had heard me speak of my life’s mission thousands of times.

“Take this,” the tiger-tattooed man said as he handed me a scroll. “Have you heard of the Guild of the Mask?”

“Only rumors during my childhood.” I accepted the roll. The paper felt thick, and it was sealed with a large coating of wax and the seal of Alacor. There were many assassin factions, but the Mask was rumored to be the most powerful and secretive. I only knew of their name because the soldiers in the castle spoke of them. I intended to seek them out after my stay with the Monks of Alacor, but I did not know where to begin my search.

“In the city of Jawompet there is an inn named Desert Night. On the evenings where there are full moons, the tavern will have a woman or man sitting at a table repairing a musical instrument. Only approach them if they are alone, and tell them that Bargen sent you. Tell them you want to speak to the Spider.”

“The Spider?” I had roamed for two years before finding the monks, but had never journeyed to Jawompet. It was at least a month’s travel away, on the edge of the Ash Sea Desert.

“Yes. This pack has enough food and water to get you started on your journey.” He gestured to the canvas bag between us.

We stared at each other for a few moments and I felt my throat tighten. I missed the life that Raltenor the Conquer had taken from me, but these men had come to fill some of the emptiness in my soul. It would be difficult to leave, and I knew I would never return.

“I will depart at once." We stood up and I set the pack on my back. The tattooed man reached out a hand to touch my shoulder.

“We do not believe in Death, only in Rebirth. I hope that the end of your quest will bring you happiness, Brother Rose Boy.” He bowed again, and the monks that stood around the two of us repeated the motion.

They didn’t raise their heads as I walked out of the courtyard, past the open gate, and towards the mountain road that would eventually lead me east to Jawompet.

For the hundredth time tonight I gave thanks to my training and the equipment I carried. I recalled the spiral towers of Crag Castle were polished to a glass-like shine, but I still reasoned that they could be climbed by an expert carrying the right tools. However, their appearance was no deception, and the walls were made of perfectly set stone. Even with my skill, I found almost no ledge of purchase between the reflective bricks, and the ascent had been nearly impossible.

This was the only other path to the Throne Room that I could think of. The reflective hallways of the interior were perhaps less treacherous than this route, but none of the Dogs would think anyone would have the skill or insanity to climb these towers, so I doubted that they would look upward and see me. It had taken me half an hour to sneak out of the hallways and foyers to reach the courtyard, and another twenty minutes to scale this length of the castle.

The climbing claws I wore on my hand extended with a slight downward curve. They were crafted of titanriunum alloy, and would sink into most any rock surface with ease. Yet they were little aid here. I had to rely on my finger strength and the pair of sleek climbing daggers to scale the large spiral tower that housed the Throne Room. The blades were also made of titanriunum and shaped with a needle point at the paper fine tip, with saw edges. These devices were only useful to slide between thin sections of brick mortar, and I had almost debated leaving them out of my kit.

The fingers of my right hand suddenly slipped out of the seam of the bricks and I pendulumed over the dark courtyard sixty feet below me. The dagger that I held with my left hand slid out of the hole in the wall it had made, and I struggled to hold back a gasp. My wrist twisted and the saw teeth of the edges ground into the stone. It was fortunate that I carried the other knife in my mouth or I might have gasped.

I pulled myself up with my left arm and searched for another hold for my right hand. The previous spot had looked promising, but the only source of light was the glow from the tower window fifteen feet above, and the twinkling of the kerosene lamps that lined the distant courtyard below. I closed my eyes to keep the shadows from confusing me, and reached a little higher on the wall until I found another seam that felt stable.

The Throne Room was a vast space, and the ceiling stretched to the top of the tower. I had only visited the place twice in my previous life, but I remembered the grand chair, the golden wood pews where the gathered could sit, and the endless chandeliers that decorated the sky like spinning galaxies. Each of the crystal structures hung from an oak beam similar to the ones that ran in the hallway, and a collapsible ladder system allowed the servants to refuel the lamps.

My right hand held in the sliver between the bricks, and I slid out the dagger with slow deliberation. For a few seconds I hung from the tiny seam by my right hand, but I managed to position the blade in my left hand through another mortar slot. I pulled myself up a few inches and repeated the process. When I was a foot below the window, I gave up on using my fingers and risked digging my second dagger into the stone. I used it to anchor my feet while I removed my left blade. Then I slid into the glowing opening and pulled my final dagger from the wall.

Some claimed that the Spider gained her name from the poison she wielded, but after apprenticing under the woman for eight years I knew better. She was the world’s best climber, and had told me that I placed second. Still, this ascent was the most challenging that I could remember, and I had to shake my hands a few times to relieve the cramps in my fingers.

Once I composed myself, I slid away from the window and peered over the edges of the beam where I crawled. The floor spread a hundred feet below me and my view was partially obstructed by the netting of the other wood joists and hanging chandeliers. By crawling to new spots and swinging my head over each side of the joist, I could observe most of the floor of the Throne Room. Scores of wooden pews glowed with fresh polish. The floors were also shined like a mirror, but their distance, and way the light fell from the lamps below assured me that none of the Dogs would see me.

There were twenty guards. These men wore black armor, and I knew they were the elite of the Conqueror’s private soldiers. They would be nearly invincible warriors, and while I felt confident that I could kill one in face-to-face combat, I didn’t relish the idea. It would be better to murder Raltenor from the shadows and then attempt an escape.

Ten of the Dogs stood at attention by the entrance to the Throne Room, but the rest were filing out of the doors in a double line of black armor. I twisted my head below the beam and noticed that the massive throne was empty. When the short progression ended, six of the warriors turned to leave and the last four remained. I cursed under my breath and shook my head at my poor luck.

I had just missed the man.

Four black-armored men stayed in the room, and their statuesque patrol made me believe that they were too disciplined to leave their posts anytime soon. They faced away from the only exit, and I realized that I would either need to wait them out, climb down the side of the spiral tower, or kill them.

None of those three options seemed like a good idea.

I didn’t want to wait for them to have a shift change or walk out of the room. I could end up being here all night, and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed the bloodstains of the Dogs I murdered earlier.

Climbing back down the outside of the tower was feasible; I had a thin cord rope crafted by the Filatin corduers. It was only as thick as my pinky, but strong enough to bind war elephants. If I tied it to the beam, I could descend back to the courtyard and avoid the four sentries. However, I’d have no way to retrieve the rope, and it would be an obvious sight to anyone that passed by the base of the tower. It would put another stack of pressure on my deadline.

Killing the guards carried much of the same repercussions as rappelling down the tower. If I murdered the four men, I’d have to hide their bodies. The advantages to that path were clear; if I dealt with them quickly enough, I might be able to catch up to the procession of guards that escorted the Conqueror. Maybe I wouldn’t even need to dispose of the bodies. If I moved swiftly enough and caught up to Raltenor’s procession, I could slip a poisoned dart or dagger into the man before the rest of his warriors killed me.

I decided without my normal caution. I rose from the joist and skipped between the beams like a bouncing shadow, until I stood directly above the group of black-armored men. I pulled the thin rope from my supply pack and bound it to the thickness of the beam.

The other end of the cord looped through various steel circles of my belt and then wrapped around my hip, left thigh, and boot. I had practiced the series of knots a thousand times, and I felt a pang of disappointment when I realized that this would probably be the last time I performed such a task.

The first of many lasts.

I hung off the edge of the oak beam and let go of the hold. The rope made a soft twang, but the Dogs were too far away to hear. I tightened my legs to secure my descent and swung back and forth on the thin black cord for a few moments. Once steadied, I released the pressure by pointing my foot and relaxing my left thigh. The cord wound through the metal loops on my belt and I inched down the wire while my face pointed down to my victims.

Perhaps this was where the Spider got her name.

I reached into the secured pocket of my unwrapped thigh and carefully pulled out four of my throwing darts. They were coated with a deadly viper poison. Even a scratch of the substance would instantly incapacitate a large man. The poison was rare and the technique to fill the needles of the darts was also difficult to master.

I continued my slow slide until I dangled ten feet above my victims. I was an expert throw with the missile weapons, but I had never done any practice while I hung inverted over my victim.

The first dart left my hand and slammed into the end guard’s throat within half an inch of where I intended. Even though my aim wasn’t exact, the needle still found the soft skin of his neck. He didn’t have time to reach up to feel what bit him. His legs gave out immediately and he collapsed.

The next guard fell just as quickly and the third dart took the corresponding Dog in the eye when he looked to the ceiling.

The final warrior reacted quickly and rolled to the side away from my position. I anticipated his movement, and my dart found a kink in his elbow armor. He still got to his feet after the poison set in, and I almost expected him to cry out an alarm. But then the man fell to his knees with a groan, and foam trickled out of his dying mouth.

My pulse quickened and I considered my two options again. I could take time to hide these four bodies behind the pews, but eventually they would be found. In the meantime I would lose precious distance on the Conqueror. Seeing that I had already decided to kill the guards to catch up with Raltenor, I knew what I had to do next.

I moved to the massive doors of the Throne Room, pulled out my listening cup, and pressed it to the door. I heard no sound on the other side of the thick wood so I pushed them open and slid into the brilliantly polished corridor. There was no visible evidence of the direction my quarry had taken, but I could easily hear the boot steps coming from my right.

I kicked off the wall, grabbed the bottom part of the oak joist, and took my place on the beam again. I would have preferred to run after them on foot, but this hallway was too well lit with oil lamps. I didn’t want to risk one of the slaves seeing me, or a Dog glancing back over his shoulder.

I crawled on the oak as quickly as I dared, and the sound of the boots thudded closer. There was a cross section up ahead and my vision caught the last of the guards’ shadows as they turned right at the hallway. My heart quickened and I swung my body through the web of the oak supports before taking up the rear position of the procession.

The figure at the front of the group wore a voluminous white cloak of mink fur. The hood of the garment was up and it covered the back of the Conqueror’s skull with heavy folds of the expensive pelt. It dragged on the floor after him, and to avoid stepping on it, his guards had to march a few feet behind what I knew was an effective protective distance.

I thought he would have been larger.

The white robe was thick, but the garment couldn't disguise his slender shoulders. He seemed to stand almost a head shorter than the rest of his sentries. I winced at the irony. This tyrant was known to be invincible in combat. He had murdered thousands of people by his own hand. I had envisioned him as some giant bear of a man, with endless muscle, and bones tougher than the rock on which Crag Castle was built. Perhaps this was still the case, but I had to smile at how the reality conflicted with my imagination.

No words were spoken by the guards that followed Raltenor the Conquer. I continued to stalk the procession as I puzzled out my next step. The cloak was thick and the man walked forty feet from me. A throw of one of my four remaining darts might make the distance, but I didn’t know if my target wore any armor under the white mantle. There was also a possibility that the needle wouldn’t even penetrate the pelt.

I contemplated throwing poisoned caltrops ahead of him, but this would be too easy for my quarry to notice and avoid. I considered pulling out my swords and murdering each of the Dogs in turn, but that was also suicidal.

I decided to wait. I probably had a few more minutes, perhaps a half of an hour, before the dead Dogs were found. It would only take a few seconds for Raltenor to die if I got close enough. There would be an opportunity soon. I just needed to be patient.

The white-cloaked figure turned another corner and the guards followed. I slipped around the crossing web of oak support joists and moved a little closer to the last Dog of the procession. The largest room in this direction was the lesser dining hall, and I guessed that the Conqueror might be on his way there for his dinner.

It would be his last meal.

I knew a shortcut to the dining hall and dropped from the joist behind the last escort. I was silent in my movement, but the adjacent door that I pushed through made a slight squeak when I entered the room. This was part of the kitchen that served the dining hall, and it buzzed urgently with the preparation of the oncoming feast. There were stacks of grain, crates of fruit, and hanging meat spread through the space, along with dozens of roasting fire pits. The fires were placed beneath exhaust ports that sucked the smoke up through the top of the towers so that the room didn't fill with cooking fumes.

I guessed that there were thirty slaves concentrating on their tasks. They sped about the massive kitchen with deliberate urgency and cooked with extreme focus. These slaves looked better fed than the four I had seen earlier, and I wondered again at the difference in sanitation between this part of the fortress and the other. It seemed Raltenor was allowing most of Crag Castle to rot, while preserving the nicest segment for himself.

Slaves didn’t live if they asked questions, so none of the scurrying men or women bothered to even look at me. I walked as if I belonged, and no one thought to comment on my presence or the black garb I wore. In fact, I reasoned that the color of my armor and cloak probably conferred the rank of an elite Dog. I soon reached the other side of the room and scaled the wall to the top of another joist.

This beam sat next to an exhaust hole for the kitchen that was used to clear out smoke in case the other ports failed. It was a tight fit, but I burrowed through the dusty space easily. Then I came to another storage room filled with dry goods. I listened at the door and entered the side corridor.

Then I was in the dining hall.

I guessed I had a few seconds before Raltenor and his lackeys entered. The table was already set with gold and jewel crusted flatware. The ornate decorations lay upon a long white tablecloth, and the strategy of my assassination took seed in my mind.

I dashed towards the table and slid under the napery beside the largest seat. The door opened as soon as I reached my hiding spot, and I felt my heart hammer in my chest. This was the moment. In a few seconds, Raltenor the Conqueror would sit at the head of the table and I would slam my poisoned blade into his gut. He would die on my blade and my love would be avenged. I had endured twenty-four years of work to reach this moment. My vision spun with excitement.

I readied my dagger.

“We have cooked goose, boar, and salmon tonight. What would the Conqueror prefer?” a man spoke, and I saw the thin-soled shoes of a servant walk next to the polished black boots of the man that wore the white fur cloak.

“Eh,” the voice sighed, and it resonated strangely. The timbre seemed too high-pitched and soft. It didn't matter what his voice sounded like though. He was about to die.

The decorated chair in front of me was carved with hundreds of beautiful roses, and the servant pulled it away from the table to allow Raltenor to sit. The black boots stepped in front of the chair and the white cloak swirled. My mind focused on the target and I exhaled slowly.

Then I pushed out from under the table and slammed the dagger into the fucker’s stomach.

But the point halted as if it had smacked into a wall of solid rock. I looked down at the weapon with surprise, and two realizations became very clear. The first was that my dagger seemed to be broken. The point had cut through the silk shirt over the abdomen of my target, but it had abruptly stopped when it reached the flesh. It was as if Raltenor was made of stone that my blade could not penetrate.

The second realization was that this was not a man, but a woman. My dagger pushed against a stomach that lay below two perfectly shaped breasts. I looked up at the woman’s face and we stared at each other in surprise. The hood of her cloak had fallen away from her head, revealing flaxen curls. Her eyes shone the color of the ocean, and her look of shock quickly turned into a savage sneer.

I recognized those eyes.

“Take him alive. I wish to question him.” The woman in the white cloak commanded, and the Dogs rushed around me like their savage namesakes.

I also recognized the voice.

“Another fine job, Rose Boy.” The raven-haired woman tossed a sack of coins at me from across her desk. I caught the bag easily and tested the weight. I knew they were gold coins, and the heft of the purse convinced me that it contained around a hundred. It would be enough to retire comfortably in any corner of the world and live an existence of luxury. I could buy slaves, a grand estate, and even a small harem.

Such possessions were of no interest to me though. The Spider had given me a dozen of these bags over the last year and I had returned each one to her. I only cared for one possession: the sight of Raltenor the Conquer dying at my feet.

“How much more do I have to learn?” I tossed the bag back at the woman and she caught it with a smooth elegance.

“Hummm.” She glanced at the purse and then my face. Her curved smile was wicked, charming, and I knew it had stolen the heart of many foolish men.

“I have a proposition for you.” She balanced the sack in her hand and the coins clinked against themselves.

“Oh?”

“You’ve been a loyal minion. I had originally taken you on against my better judgement but you’ve proven to be my most skilled Mask. You’ll need a few more years to reach Grand Master level, of course.” Her smile grew larger. “There is only one Grand Master in the Guild of the Mask. You would have to kill me and then take my spot.”

“I don’t wish for that.”

“Oh, I know Rose Boy. That is where my proposition comes into this conversation.” She set the coin bag down before she leaned back in her chair and crossed her thighs. Her legs were long and toned under the dark silk trousers she wore. “I had once thought about retiring, fleeing this land and then setting up an estate somewhere tropical. That was actually my intention before you came into my service, and the conquests of Raltenor only made the idea seem more plausible.”

“Do you still wish to retire?” I knew that the Guild of the Mask had come upon hard times with the expansion of Raltenor’s empire. Most of the assassination guilds also suffered, and the Spider’s group was one of the last remaining organizations.

“Perhaps someday. But I am still young, and I love my job too much.” She smirked and nodded at her own words.

“I agree. This is your calling. I could not imagine you lying on a beach somewhere drinking rum.” I smiled at the woman and she let out a gentle laugh.

“But that brings me to my proposition. You have this quest to kill Raltenor the Conqueror. I would like you to instead stay here with me.”

“I--“

“Wait.” She held up a finger. “Before you answer. Hear my words. It is rare to trust someone in my profession. I am responsible for finding jobs for the Guild as well as training the New Bloods. On top of all of those tasks, I always need to watch my back. The people I groom into the world’s best assassins eventually come to desire more power.”

I nodded at her words. I had foiled four attempts on the Spider’s life while I served as her apprentice and then did the same a dozen more times when I became a Journeyman. When I moved up to Master the attempts halted and I realized that the other guild members must have come to fear me as much as their leader.

“I would like you to stay, Rose Boy. I trust you and enjoy your presence.” She twirled a silky piece of black hair around her slender fingers. “You’re strong, not as strong as me of course,” she let out a light laugh, “but if you did want my position, I would probably feel your blade or poison within the next few years.”

“I do not want your position, Mistress.” The smile dropped from my lips and I hoped that she believed me.

“Oh, I know. You have this pretty little quest to kill Raltenor. I understand. Here is what I am asking: We can do wonders if we work together. Someone will kill the Conqueror eventually and then business will bloom again. I need a strong partner that I can trust completely. I trust you. Forget about this suicide quest and stay here with me.”

“I--“

“Wait,” she interrupted me again. “I’m not just offering a business partnership either,” her eyes were dark, but I saw the desire within them. We had been in each other’s presence almost every day during the last eight years. Even when I went on my missions I missed the cunning woman and desired to return to her as soon as my target was eliminated. Perhaps I had feelings for her as well?

“I understand and am thankful to you, Mistress.” I nodded and took a long breath. “I have been consumed by my mission and can think of nothing else but murdering this man. Once I have completed the task, I will return to you.”

“That is what I thought you might say,” she sighed and shook her head. “The mission is suicide. I have eyes and ears at Crag Castle. No one even sees the man, save the most elite of his guards. I’d say you would be better off trying to kill him during one of his war campaigns, but the Conqueror hasn’t needed to destroy another country in five years. All are in his fist now and he doesn’t leave that fortress. You are my best assassin, but this job is beyond even your skills.”

“It would be beyond my skills if I intended to come back,” I replied.

She said nothing for a moment and I noticed that she bit her lower lip.

“You won’t change your mind?” she finally asked.

“No Mistress. But if I live, I will return to you.”

“Damn,” she shook her head, “I guess I will have to help ensure that you return then.” She gifted me with her scimitar smile and I felt some tension leave my shoulders.

“I will get you a boat and whatever equipment you need. Anything you need.” I nodded and returned her smile. We had spoken of my strategy dozens of times so she understood what I would require.

“I expect you to come back alive, and I want you to swear you will make all efforts to do so.”

“I will.”

“Then there is one more gift for you.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small black box. It was crafted of ebony and she opened the lid to show me the contents.

“A tooth?” It looked like a molar.

“Not just a tooth. It is a hollowed out ceramic structure. Perfectly safe to chew even ice with, but if you scrape your mouth across it sideways,” she made the motion with her hands, “it will crack and release whatever fluid is stored inside.”

“What is inside this one?”

“White adder venom.”

I let out a slow whistle. It was the deadliest toxin known to the guild. The serpents were rarer than hen’s teeth, and the venom didn’t just come out of the snake’s fangs with a bite. They could spit or leak it from their scales, so capturing one of the creatures was almost impossible. The amount of poison contained in the small tooth was probably worth all the gold that I had given back to the woman sitting before me.

“Why?” I choked out the question.

“Because if you fail, they will try to capture you. If they capture you, they will make you talk. I doubt you will speak about me, but I don’t want to risk the eye of Raltenor. The poison is quick and painless. You are a hard man, but I feel some sort of odd pain in my stomach when I think about the possibility of Raltenor’s torturers hurting you.” She smiled slightly and shook her head. “Maybe I am getting soft?”

“Thank you Mistress. This is a wonderful gift.” I bowed my head before her and let out a sigh of gratitude.

“Don’t thank me yet. You’ll need to find a place to put the thing.” I heard a clicking sound and looked up from my bow. She held a pair of pliers in her hand and she snapped the jaw of the tool together twice again.

She smiled and her eyes filled with a savage glee.

“Now take a seat over there. I’ll try to make this as painless as possible, but I am a little miffed you didn’t take me up on my offer.”

I shook my head and laughed again. I sat down in the chair and leaned back so she could begin her work.

“This is all that he carried,” the Dog spoke to the Princess and pointed to the pile of weapons, gear, and armor that sat upon the dining table. They had worked me over while the woman ate, and most of my fingers were now broken, along with three ribs and my nose.

I felt my sanity slip away when I gazed through my swollen eyes at her. There was no mistaking my vision. It was the girl I had once loved. She was older, of course, by twenty-four years. But the time seemed to have been kind and her face still looked young. In fact, I would have guessed that she had only aged a few years since the last time I had seen her.

She cut into a chunk of food with a golden knife and slowly sawed a piece of the cooked flesh onto her fork. The meat looked very rare, as if it were still bleeding. The woman lifted the bit of flesh and put it into her mouth with a bored expression. Then she dabbed her full lips with a snow white cloth.

“Bring him before me,” she commanded, and strong hands hauled me across the polished marble floor. They had removed all of my armor and clothes, but left me with my blood splattered underwear.

“How did you get into my castle?” She set down her napkin and picked up one of my sheathed daggers. She pulled the weapon clear of its sheath and then turned it over in her hand.

What the hell was going on? How was she here? How was she still alive? Every rumor, story, or spoken word about him had detailed how the Conqueror raped the woman I loved for an entire month before mounting her head on a pike.

I was looking at a ghost.

Where was Raltenor the Conqueror?

“His silence displeases me.” She turned to one of the Dogs and the man slammed the toe of his boot into my stomach. Another rib broke and I gasped in agony.

“How did you get into my castle?” She was sorting through some of my other equipment.

“I came up from the sewage shaft under the Crag.” My words slurred together as blood dribbled out of my mouth. Several teeth felt loose, but my poisoned molar was still secure. I had not given up hope yet. I didn’t know how my love could still be alive, but perhaps she would know where I might find Raltenor. Maybe I could tell her who I was and she would free me.

“That sounds unlikely, but you did manage to strike me. It was better than all the other attempts against my life.” She held up my bag of caltrops and looked through it with obvious boredom.

“I was trying to kill Raltenor the Conqueror,” I gasped and coughed up blood. Things other than bones were also broken inside of me.

“And you failed. Like all the others,” the Princess sighed. She picked up one of my climbing daggers. “Which Guild are you--“ her voice stopped mid-sentence and she reached into the pile of my gear. Then she pulled out the worn embroidered patch and unfolded it.

“Where did you get this?” Her voice filled with venom as she rose from her engraved chair.

“You gave it to me,” I said. Her fist smashed into the side of my face before I even saw her arm move with almost supernatural speed. My mind spun with the pain.

“Where did you get this?” she screamed. I noticed the soldiers that clung to my arms begin to tremble.

“You gave it to me!” I yelled. Blood from my mouth speckled her white mink cloak.

Her hand closed around my jaw. Her grip was inhumanly strong. She lifted my battered face upwards and her blue eyes studied my visage for what seemed like forever.

“Rose Boy?” Her furious expression broke and my name came out in a faint whisper.

“Yes,” I replied and she stared at me for another dozen seconds.

“I believed that you were dead.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. I felt my heart beat heavily in my chest. “How did you survive the siege?”

“My father threw me down the sewage shaft and I swam out into the ocean.” I couldn’t believe the way her blue eyes had suddenly softened at my words.

“Incredible,” she smiled and my heart soared. “All these years you’ve been alive and I haven’t gone a day without thinking of you. Oh, my Rose Boy.” The tears fell down her cheeks like a beautiful summer rain.

“Let him go!” she snarled at the Dogs that held me, and they released their grip on my bloody arms with a frantic urgency. “Move to your posts!” she barked, and the men fell back behind me a few dozen feet. Then my love turned to me and her face softened again.

“Why did you come to kill me? I don’t understand.” She tilted her head and her curly hair fell across her shoulders like a sunny ocean wave.

“I came to kill Raltenor the Conqueror,” I said the words but my mind felt discombobulated. My love would help me find him. I had gone from despair to hope within a few seconds.

I loved this girl so much.

“But,” she moved her hand towards me and stroked my cheek, “I am Raltenor the Conqueror.”

Her face changed, her eyes flashed dangerously and I felt her fist close around my neck as my body was lifted from the ground. This was impossible. There was no way that a woman her size could lift me like a rag doll. “Why do you want to kill me?”

“No!” I gasped and my vision spun from lack of air. “They said he raped you. They said he mounted your head on a pike. I worked my whole life to avenge your death.” Her hand let go of my neck and I fell to the ground again in a bloody heap.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no. My wonderful Rose Boy,” she sighed and then let out a soft laugh. “The world is such a horrible place. You were mistaken, and I am partially to blame. Oh, no please forgive me.” Her fingers caressed my cheek again and her eyes looked moist.

“I don’t understand,” I choked out.

“Let me help you into a chair and I will explain.” She picked me up as if I were a child and then sat me in the plush leather chair next to hers.

“Dogs, leave us!” she commanded her men, and they quickly marched out of the large dining room.

“Would you like some water? Perhaps some wine?” She gestured to the table with a shy smile.

“Wine,” I said. This conversation had become surreal and I figured getting drunk wouldn’t make it any worse.

“It is so wonderful to see you again. I can’t begin to explain how much the sight of you makes my heart sing.” She poured the blood red liquid into a large crystal glass and passed it to me. I grabbed it with my left hand, only two of its fingers were broken, and I was able to hold the cup properly. The liquid tasted expensive and I wanted to gulp down the entire bottle.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Raltenor did conquer the castle, of course, you remember that. Then he did rape me, Rose Boy. He raped me two or three times a day, every single day. The man was a monster and kept me chained in his harem to prevent me from committing suicide.”

“That is horrible,” I choked out, as tears came to my eyes.

“Yes. I thought of you often, but I believed you were dead. For many months Raltenor violated me, and I almost gave up hope. Then one day the man asked me if I enjoyed…” she paused and looked down at her hands, suddenly vulnerable. “If I enjoyed it.” Her eyes looked far away and I felt a torrent of anger fill my stomach.

“It was a turning point in our relationship. I told him that I did enjoy it. I told him that I loved it, that I loved him. They were lies but, the man was vain and he wanted my affection as much as I wanted my freedom. I continued to compliment him and eventually he removed the bindings and let me roam around free in his presence. I was his most revered concubine and he soon cared nothing for the rest of his harem.”

The tears that rolled down her face made me sure of her sincerity. I had endured much to survive and come to this place, but I was beginning to understand that my sacrifices were just a small drop in the pond of pain my love had endured.

“We began to have conversations, I grew to know the man. I despised him, of course, but I convinced him of the opposite and he eventually told me his darkest secret.” She smiled slightly but the motion was filled with sorrow.

“Secret?”

“Yes,” she said as she reached into her silk blouse and pulled out a wide medallion. The platinum disk depicted a hand grasping a skull. Two rubies formed the eyes and the teeth were sharpened. “This was his secret.”

“What is it?” The adrenaline began to leave my body and my broken bones screamed.

“It was the source of his power. You see,” she leaned in close and her beautiful smile grew, “Raltenor the Conquer used to be called Raltenor the Apprentice Digger. He worked on an excavation team clearing build sites for homes in the City of Umparatil. One day he found a chest on his site and discovered this medallion within. He put it on and his life changed.”

“It is magick?” I felt my blood run cold and my pain was suddenly forgotten.

“Yes. The most amazing magick. It makes the wearer invulnerable to weapons. Not only that, but whoever wears it gains the strength of twenty men, and their aging slows to a crawl.”

“Incredible.” I wouldn’t have believed her story, but I knew my love would never lie to me and I had felt the power of her body when she lifted me.

"Raltenor quickly became drunk with the power and murdered those around him so he could acquire their wealth. He did this kind of thuggery work for many years until he built himself a small crew of followers who knew he always won in battle. Then he got the idea to form an army and conquer the world.” She sat back and took a sip from her own wine glass.

“But why do you call yourself Raltenor?” I asked.

She smiled at me and my heart raced. It also hurt exquisitely, and I was sure that some of my organs bled into my stomach. I felt at peace though. My love was alive and it seemed as if she had avenged herself.

“Raltenor may have started out an idiot, but he became cunning after many years of commanding evil men. He noticed some odd capabilities about the medallion and he began to search for knowledge of the device. I won’t bore you with the details of the search as he explained them to me, but I will tell you of the complete powers of the magick.” She held up the disk again and it spun lazily on its matching chain.

“It cannot be removed by anyone other than the wearer, and it will lose its powers for a hundred years if its wearer dies. That is how Raltenor was able to claim the artifact. Whoever had it before him must have perished, and then someone else removed the medallion.”

“How can anyone die while wearing it? If they can’t be hurt by weapons and they don’t age, it would be impossible.” My imagination couldn’t puzzle out how the Princess had come to possess the magick amulet with the powers as she just explained them.

“Poison,” she smiled and licked her lips, “it is really the only way to kill the wearer. Raltenor was too clever though and had hundreds of slaves he used to taste his food and drink. He used to make me sample his meals before he fell in love with me.”

The jealousy tugged at my heart and I nodded again. I took another sip of my wine and my stomach began to feel nauseated. I didn’t know if my bleeding would kill me, but it was getting hard to keep my eyes open. None of that mattered though, because the woman I loved was here with me.

“You are hurt,” she spoke with concern.

“I will last until you finish the story,” I said.

“I will summon the doctors. They are the best in the land and can cure you of any ailment.” She reached across the table and ran her fingertips across my face. “It is so wonderful to see you again my love.”

“Please continue with your story.” I sighed at her touch.

“The ending is somewhat anticlimactic,” she laughed slightly. “He had just conquered the Kingdom of Rilltya and we celebrated with many bottles of wine. Alcohol still made him drunk and he didn’t notice me pouring half of each glass I drank into his. When he was at his peak of intoxication I told him how beautiful the medallion was, and I asked if I might try it on to see how it looked with my dress.”

“And he gave it to you?” I couldn’t believe her words.

“Yes. Then I ripped his arms off his body and watched him bleed to death on the tiger skin rug of our pavilion.” Her eyes glazed over and she licked her lips slightly.

“But the Kingdom of Rilltya was conquered by Raltenor more than twenty years ago.” Her story didn’t make sense. The man had just finished uniting every country under his banner five years ago. Then he had begun to squeeze the life out of the world.

“Yes. Twenty-two years ago, actually. It took me two years to get him to give me the medallion.” She spun the medallion again and it seemed like the skull grinned at me.

Then her story made sense and my heart froze.

“You conquered the rest?” I almost couldn’t hear my own voice form the question.

“Of course.” She smiled at me. “Perhaps I should have been thankful to the man. I took his magickal artifact and became a god. Then I took his name and commanded his army.” She leaned back her beautiful head and laughed.

It didn’t sound beautiful anymore.

The laughter sounded insane.

“People are struggling to survive. There is famine and plague across the land,” I selected my words carefully to judge her response.

“The strong feed upon the weak, Rose Boy. You must understand that by now. These aren’t the tools of a peaceful man.” She lifted my short sword and smiled at me. “I am doing this world a favor. The people need a leader to tell them what to do and think. They need a god to walk amongst them and give them divine guidance. This is just the first part of my plan. Weak people will die, but those who survive the next ten years of suffering will be strong. With these strong disciples I will create a new utopia.”

“I see.” My stomach flipped like a fish out of the river and I fumbled for words. Our eyes made contact and I easily perceived the adoration in her blue orbs.

“I am so happy to see you, Rose Boy. I’ve been so lonely. There is no one to talk to about my dreams for this world. No one to share my life with. The Dogs are just beasts really; they are nothing more than the tools I need to achieve my goals, merely living weapons. I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if we had married, if Raltenor had not invaded. Thoughts of you kept me sane while he raped me. Dreams of what our life may have been kept me from killing myself every time he lay on top of me.”

Her eyes fluttered and her smile grew as beautiful as I remembered.

“You must love me as well. No one would go to such lengths for revenge for someone unless they loved them beyond all reason.” She gestured to my equipment and then turned back to me.

“Do you love me?” she asked softly, a faint twinge of fear in her question.

“Yes. I’ve loved you all my life. You are all I ever dream about. I thought you dead. But now you are alive. It is a miracle.” Perhaps it was truth mixed with the lies I had told myself over the years. This was no longer the woman that I loved.

This was Raltenor the Conqueror.

She had led hundreds of battles in the last twenty-two years and been responsible for killing millions of people with her armies. The woman had sucked the life from this world by enslaving it with her iron fist. She was insane, and I knew that she would never be stopped while she still wore the medallion around her neck.

The Princess that I loved died twenty-four years ago.

She died on the same day that I died.

“I am so happy.” Tears came down her eyes and she wiped them with the tips of her fingers before letting out a soft giggle. “I always wanted to marry you. Can we do that now?” For a second I forgot about the murder and only saw the beautiful girl that I loved with all my heart.

“Of course we can. You rule this world. We can do whatever you want.” I forced a laugh to my voice and hoped that it didn’t ring too hollow. My chest had become cold and my body shook lightly.

“You need a doctor. My Dogs beat you badly. Let me fetch them.” She rose from her chair and my hand grasped her forearm to stop her.

“There will be plenty of time for that later. I want to kiss you my love. I’ve wanted to kiss you all of my life.” I used every last part of my strength to stand. Her arms slid around my shoulders and mine found her slender waist. Her mouth formed an excited circle and her beautiful blue eyes closed as my lips approached hers.

I bit down on my hollow molar.

I felt the liquid fill my mouth an instant before our lips touched. Our tongues wrapped around each other and she let out a moan of enjoyment. For a second I only thought of the love I possessed for the memory of the girl she had been. I cursed the universe for what it had done to her.

I’m sorry Spider. There was only one way this mission could end.

I felt her legs stiffen and her hands gripped painfully around my shoulders. Then I heard my bones snap under her fingers and she yanked my face away from her lips.

The poison had already numbed my entire body.

“Why?” There was an untold sadness in her eyes, and they filled with tears the color of sea water.

She fell and I landed on top of her. She choked and the sound became the death rattle that I had heard a hundred times. I somehow had enough strength to raise my head a final time and I stared at her pale beauty. The skull amulet hung from her neck, and the deep crimson of the ruby eyes faded to clear diamonds.

Then the colors in my vision turned as red as the rose on the patch, before fading into blackness.

The End

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Editing and e-book formatting by Ginger Earle

Cover art by Daniel Kamarudin

Typography, illustration and print book formatting by Jason Faraci

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Michael-Scott Earle

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- ROSE BOY
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- ROSE BOY End of Document Credits-Copyright