Bren bounded up to the gate with seemingly limitless energy, despite the gnawing hunger that rumbled in his belly. The two fugitives had finally reached the town of Triham, the large stone gate open wide for visitors and seemingly unguarded.
Kieran hung back, a little more cautious. He scanned the area, his eyes searching for potential threats. The few guards he spotted meandering atop the wall, however, seemed casual and relaxed, even chatting amongst themselves.
"It's so open and welcoming," Bren remarked. He looked at the assassin, catching his wary eyes. "Shouldn't they be looking for us?"
"Probably," Kieran shrugged, "but I doubt they will."
"Why not?"
"Triham has a bit of a reputation," he explained, "for having a powerful criminal underground. Pay off the right person, and they'll let anything slide."
"But why would someone pay off the guards to let us walk into the city?" Bren asked, confused.
"Maybe Whisper knows we're coming," the assassin suggested, watching the people passing by more closely, searching for the informant's recognizable face.
"Whisper?"
"The guy who knew Rodrigo."
"Oh..." The thief trailed off, thinking for a moment. "How is he going to react when he finds out you killed him?"
Kieran let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Not well, I imagine."
As if on cue, Bren felt powerful magic surround the pair, making the hair on the back of his neck tingle.
"Kieran!" The half-elf shouted a warning, drawing the small dagger from his belt and scanning the area to find the source of the magical disturbance.
The assassin looked around for the source of Bren's sudden anxiety, but couldn't see anything except a few guards wary at the thief's drawn weapon and nervous stance. "What the fuck's the matter with you?" he asked, putting a firm hand on the young man's shoulder.
Meet me at the burned building near the docks.
The voice seemed to come from everywhere, as if it was the air around the assassin speaking. The startled assassin looked around, gripping the hilt of his dagger, but couldn't spot the source of the strange message. Bren calmed down considerably, however, as the magical voice dissipated, returning his dagger to his belt and smiling an apology at the on-edge guardsmen.
"What the fuck was that?" Kieran muttered under his breath as he cautiously followed the thief who had begun to walk into the city at a steady pace.
"A spell," Bren explained. "I think he knows we're here."
"How did you know something was up?" the assassin questioned.
"I am a half-elf, remember?" Bren pointed at his ears as if he had to remind the older man that they were pointed. "I have Elven blood in me, so I can sense when spells are being cast."
Kieran rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you always been able to do that?"
"Of course." Bren watched with an amused look how uncomfortable the assassin was with this conversation. "You really don't know much about magic, do you?"
Kieran shrugged awkwardly, trying to regain his composure. "I know that Elves have a propensity for it," he admitted, "but some humans can wield it as well."
"The guy we're meeting is a mage," Bren pointed out, "and so was Rodrigo. Did it never occur to you to read up on the subject?"
"So were some of the people Rod had me kill," the assassin admitted, "but I don't need to know the intricacies of magic to stab someone in the throat."
"Fair enough," the half-elf conceded, preferring to focus on where they were headed as opposed to his companion's glaring hole in knowledge. "Do you have any idea where we're going?"
"The burned building near the docks," the assassin responded quickly, drawing an irritated groan from the thief.
"I was in such a good mood this morning," Bren muttered, rubbing his temples in annoyance. "Kieran, do you know where the burned building is?"
"Probably near the river."
The half-elf's frustrated yell made the assassin smile.
"Relax, Half-blood," Kieran teased, jostling him slightly with one shoulder, "we can ask around."
"I want to get this over with," Bren complained, "so we can finally have a hot meal and sleep in a soft bed."
"We will," the assassin promised. "It can't be too hard to find a burned building down near the water."
Bren nodded, unconvinced, and the two walked in silence for a moment, each taking in the sights and smells of the city.
Triham was noticeably smaller than the Capital they came from, with less people walking around the streets. The sun was still high in the sky with not a cloud nearby to obscure it's blinding rays. Thin trees lined the roadside, providing brief respites from the sun's warmth, their leaves turned bright yellow to signal the end of summer. The buildings themselves were simple, small houses made of wood with stone foundations, many only a single story high. The air was clean and the streets were tidy, adding to the feel of an idyllic little border town on the shores of the Tzent River.
As the pair approached the docks, however, the feel of the town started to change. The buildings grew larger and more imposing, casting dark shadows onto the roads. The tan-skinned people who passed them by had the hardened faces of seasoned veterans, keeping one suspicious eye trained on the half-elf as he walked past. The smell of fish permeated the homely scents of cooking spices and fresh air, and the trees that had provided colour and comfort were gone. As his mood darkened, Bren noticed that there weren't many shops lining the street and he hadn't seen a guard in quite some time.
"Tell me about Whisper," he asked Kieran, hoping the conversation would distract him from his growing anxiety.
"Not much to tell about him," the assassin explained, seemingly unfazed by the increasingly dark atmosphere of the town. "He is a mage in Triham who specializes in locating people. Rod used to hire his assistance to find my targets."
"Have you met him before?"
The assassin shrugged. "Once or twice, maybe."
"What other magic does he know?"
Kieran looked at Bren like he was crazy. "How the hell am I supposed to know that?"
"Human wizards," Bren explained, "can only learn a few spells. I just want to know what we're dealing with."
"Why?" the assassin questioned. "We're not here to fight him. We're here to hire him."
Bren shook his head dismissively. "I know, I know," he admitted, "but I have a bad feeling. Especially if he was friends with Rodrigo..."
Kieran put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We'll be alright," he said. "Trust me."
The assassin's poor choice of words put the thief even further on edge, as he remembered he had no reason to trust the impulsive murderer.
Shrugging off Kieran's hand, Bren increased his pace, speed-walking away from the assassin who was left wondering what he had said to upset his friend.
The huge abandoned building was noticeable from quite a distance away. A huge chunk of the building's side was gone, like a monster had taken a giant bite out of one of the top corners. Soot and ash radiated from the gaping wound, giving the burned building a menacingly scarred look.
Bren grew increasingly nervous as he approached the wooden structure, the smell of burning mingling with sweat and fish and making him cough. The entire area was devoid of life and emanated magic, giving him goosebumps and making his heart beat unbearably fast as Kieran reached out and grabbed the handle on it's sliding doors, pulling them open easily with his strong arms.
The smell of burnt wood was even stronger inside, and Bren noticed even Kieran stifling a cough. The building was empty, its contents emptied after whatever explosion had rocked the upper floors. A winch and pulley system sat gathering dust at the opposite side of the room, the lift swinging slightly with a foreboding creaking sound. Sunlight pooled in from the hole in the ceiling, illuminating the dust swirling around the two fugitives as they made their way towards the back corner where thin metal stairs paved the way the the upper floors.
"Hello!" Kieran called out, careful not to be too loud in case the building came tumbling down. "Whisper?"
The pair heard echoing footsteps above them as if in response to the assassin's call.
Kieran sprinted forward fearlessly, his boots making a commotion on the stairs as he hurried up them.
Bren walked up them carefully, his instincts screaming at him to not go near the source of very powerful magic upstairs. He paused to check the second floor as he passed, but it was as unnervingly empty as the first. The assassin waited at the top of the stairs for a moment to let him catch up before stepping off onto the third floor.
This floor was, predictably, empty as well, save for a cloaked man pacing back and forth near the lift impatiently. The walls in the back corner opposite the stairs were blown apart, burn marks and soot covered what little wall remained. Even the floor was damaged, part of it fallen through onto the second floor and the rest burnt and creaking ominously as the hooded man paced nearby. The roof was overhanging menacingly, a single unburned pillar supporting the weight of the wooden crossbeam, somehow preventing the building from collapsing any further.371Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIj8Lwc9vcq
The cloaked man looked up at Kieran and the thief as they entered the room, much of his face hidden by his low hood. The amount of magic radiating from him was nearly overwhelming, and the young half-elf was starting to get a headache just being near the wizard.
Kieran moved to step forward, but Bren grabbed his elbow. "This man," he whispered, "is really powerful. Way stronger than Rod. Be careful."
The assassin nodded and stepped forward casually to meet the informant.
"Hello, Whisper," he said, smiling and walking forward with an outstretched arm.
"Kieran," the hooded man acknowledged him, shaking the assassin's offered hand, "and Bren. Welcome to Triham."
Bren stepped forward, trying to hide his terror at the magic this man commanded. "You know me?"
Whisper nodded. "Of course. Rod's little pet."
He reached up and pulled his hood back from his face, and Bren couldn't hide the shock from his face. He looked worn from years of magic use, his lone eye droopy and tired despite the alert youthfulness he showed. Wrinkles marked one half of his tan skin as if carved there prematurely, and the other half of the informant's face was covered in burn scars, from his temples down his neck. The flimsy eye patch covering his scarred eye gave him a gruff and grizzled look, like he had survived hell itself. His face was a strange dichotomy of old and crippled, and the lightness of his steps and his tone of voice contradicted the frailness he showed.
His thin lips curled up into a contemptuous smile as he saw the thief's surprise. "An unfortunate accident," he explained, pointing to his scars, "left me like this. Magic is a dangerous tool. You never know how it will manifest."
Kieran stepped between the wizard and the thief, allowing Bren the chance to collect himself. "We have need of your services, Whisper."
"Really?" Whisper shook his head rapidly, allowing his dark hair to settle itself more naturally on his head. "And how do you expect to pay for it with Rodrigo dead?"
"I can pay in other ways," the assassin bartered, unflinching, "and you know it."
"No offence, assassin," Whisper continued his pacing, "but if I wanted someone killed I'd do it myself for free.
"But I'll tell you what," he continued, rubbing his scarred chin in mock deep thought, "since Rod and I go way back, I'm sure he's got a few favours he could call in. Not that he has need of them anymore."
"So you'll help us?" Kieran asked with a smile.
"This time," the wizard agreed, "but don't make it a habit."
Bren stepped close to the assassin, keeping his voice quiet. "Doesn't he know how Rod died?"
Kieran elbowed him in the side, not as hard as he could but still enough that the poor thief doubled over, the breath momentarily knocked out of him.
"Shut up," Kieran ordered before walking away, joining Whisper's heavy pacing.
"I'm looking for a man," the assassin explained, "the man responsible for Rodrigo's death. What do you need from me?"
"His full birth name," Whisper explained, "and some time. With that, I can locate his position with a farseeing spell."
"His name is Connor Walsh."
Bren perked up at the name, recognising it.
"Wait, Connor? Isn't that your brother?" he asked, and Kieran glared at him.
Whisper stopped his pacing and raised his burnt off eyebrow, just visible over the eye patch. "You want to kill your own brother?" he asked the assassin.
"He's no brother of mine," Kieran growled in frustration. "Just find him and tell me where he is."
Whisper shrugged. "Fair enough. Your business is your own," he admitted, "but it might take some time. I need to monitor him in order to locate his precise location."
"How long will that take?" the impatient assassin complained.
"I should have your information by morning," the wizard said, ignoring Kieran's grumbling.
"We can't wait that long," Bren tried to explain as he saw his companion's increasing agitation. "We have no money and nowhere to stay."
"Go to The Anchor's Sway and tell the proprietor Whisper sent you," the informant offered. "He already knows you're coming. He'll give you a bed and a hot meal."
"Thank you, Whisper," Kieran said begrudgingly. "We appreciate the help."
Whisper waved his hand dismissively, already preparing to cast the spell. Bren could almost see the magic around him, rising from the ground in waves and swirling around the mage's arms. The strengthening magic made the half-elf's headache grow nearly unbearable, and he practically raced down the stairs to get away from the source of magic.
"Bren!" Kieran called out, but the young thief couldn't bear to stop running. He finally stopped once he was outside, doubled over and breathing heavy.
"What the hell was that?" Kieran asked, catching up to him after a moment.
"I told you," Bren gasped between laboured breaths, "he's really powerful. I couldn't be around him once he started casting."
Kieran put a comforting hand on the young man's back. "Maybe I should meet him alone tomorrow."
Bren nodded and straightened up, his head finally starting to clear.
"He told me where the tavern is after you ran off. Should we head there?" the assassin asked rhetorically, walking back towards the city before the half-elf could argue.
"Why didn't you tell me the man who killed your parents is actually your brother?" Bren asked as he matched pace with the assassin.
Kieran gave a nonchalant shrug. "Does it matter?"
"No, not really," the thief admitted, "but I don't want you to keep anything else from me." Bren watched the assassin's face as he said the words, noting the way the killer's grey eyes flashed guilt for a moment before steeling over and changing to resolve.
"I can't guarantee I won't hide something from you," Kieran admitted, "but I promise I will tell you the whole story before I have you help me kill him."
"You're sure he's responsible for Rodrigo's death?" Bren asked, pushing, "Even though it was you who did it?"
"That bastard killed my parents, Half-Blood," the assassin reiterated, "and messed me up. I wasn't in control - I never am. He always is."
Anger seethed in Kieran's eyes, and his fingers furled around the hilt of his prized dagger so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Killing him is the only way to stop it from happening again," he snarled. "The only way I can be free."
Bren fell behind the assassin, allowing him a moment to calm down. Something didn't sit right with him about this whole situation, this rage-driven quest for revenge. The half-elf began to wonder if this Connor boy had anything at all to do with Rodrigo's death. Was this all just a way for the murderer to excuse his behaviour, to put aside any blame or guilt he might have?
But Kieran had never once lied to the young thief. Why would he lie about this?
Confused and aggravated with the whole thing, Bren had no choice but to follow the assassin back towards the unwelcoming city and towards whatever fate awaited him.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
