They came upon them, six of them, in various stages of death. They moved with precision and quickly found one they were looking for.
“Help me” it hissed.
Slicer walked up and knelt next to the creature.
“We can help but first we must learn of something.”
The Troll at death’s door was in no condition to barter.
“What do want to know?”
“Tell us everything you remember about the ones who did this to you.”
Slicer listened with detached attention for he’d heard it before. All the Elvin had. Even to ones such as them the reputation of Savage’s squad had reached enormous proportion. He took in what he believed important and let his mind wander. The Troll would be kept alive until the full account was told. The Assassins Guild were experts in death and thus experienced in slowing its progress when it suited their purpose. His mind went to a previous life, one he wished to forget.
“Attack.”
He stalked the master for it was his duty to obey. He was but a child, orphaned and alone. It was the way of the Guild. Nothing of the past could be used as leverage. All relationships were severed. Any who disobeyed were removed. He’d been given to the Guild in exchange for a life. His father made enemies who put a price on his head. He bowed before the Guild and struck a bargain.
“If you do not kill me I will give you my son.”
“Why would we agree? We can take him after we take your head.”
His father was not one to walk in empty-handed.
“I have gold hidden from all. I know the price offered for me and I propose to match it. I know the Guild’s word is law so I offer a life in exchange. My son’s for mine.”
The deal was made and Slicer became property.
“Master?”
“What, slave?”
“What happened to the men who tried to kill my father?”
Smack!
“Speak not of the past. It no longer exists.”
As he grew to adolescence he began to understand the ways. The men who paid for his father’s demise would not survive. The Guild had rules but they could be breached if the price was right and the mission possible.
“We wish to remove a competitor.”
“Who?”
“A banker. He is loaning money for too little profit. We wish to end his practice.”
“One hundred gold pieces.”
“Agreed.”
Slicer’s life became one of complete subordination and deceit. He would rise every day to meet a new challenge. The price of failure ran high.
“Another will attempt to kill you today. Find out which one and eliminate the problem.”
The caves inside Mount Det were alive with slaves attempting to stay alive and kill others. At first, rumors were spread but soon everyone learned to keep their council because informing another of one’s plans could backfire if the other was trying to end your life.
“I see you are still alive.”
“Yes, Master.”
“How did you kill the other?”
“I strangled her, Master.”
He became an expert with the tools his kind employed. Knife, dart and poison were the preferred method for they were light, easily transported and took up little room. They were not there to learn battle tactics, not taught the ways of warfare, they were there for Death and her subtle charms to achieve her means.
“Become one with the shadow. Learn to stay within its shelter.”
Stealth was the key followed by quick and lethal attack. Silence was valued over all else. As he furthered his skills he rose higher in the mountain. The caves near the top were absent of sound.
“Another has been chosen. You are warned.”
He waited. His eyes had adjusted long ago. His heart beat at a fraction of its normal rate, his breathing slowed to an imperception. The other was out there doing the same. It was a war of patience and the game won through iron-clad resolve. He heard the slightest of sounds. He smiled. His adversary had lost.
“I see you are alive.”
“Yes, Master.”
“How did you kill the other?”
“I slit his throat.”
The other had been good. He was better. Slicer watched as the other moved, so slowly if he hadn’t heard the other’s heartbeat he wouldn’t have known he was there. It took the other an hour to traverse ten feet. It took Slicer one stroke to end the game.
The Guild was not for the arrogant, the impatient or the reckless. All traits unwanted were eliminated by others without the flaws.
“The slave of Terminus has drawn your name.”
“He will die.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he believes he cannot.”
Attrition was high but the Guild was wise. They targeted some for extinction, others for promotion, a few for membership. Slicer had found a home.
“You must shed the past.”
“Yes, Master.”
“We cannot do it for you.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Go and become what you were meant to be.”
It was the final task, one taken by all who would enter Death’s domain. He found him at home, sitting alone counting his precious gold.
“Hello, Father.”
The other’s eyes opened wide for he believed his child dead. It was the reason he chose him, he believed him weak. It was a mistake of great proportions.
“You have done the deed?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I am no longer your master, welcome to the Guild.”
Slicer came out of his memories when he heard something.
“What did you say?”
The Troll, knowing who he was dealing with but wishing to prolong the inevitable, stalled.
“The two Midglings said they were going someplace” it hissed.
“Where?”
“I am having difficulty remembering.”
It was the wrong answer. All life was both fragile and resilient. It only took knowledge of which parts would kill and which would not. The Elvin studied their art with fanaticism.
“No! Not again! Please stop!”
Pressure placed in some areas, pain delivered to others. The Troll was alive, barely so, and suffering the consequences of eluding Elvin desires.
“Where?” Slicer said in a whisper.
“The Lazy River! They said they were going to the Lazy River!”
Knowledge was key. It could unlock doors as well as open mouths. It was information, secrets, power. The Elvin were through with the Troll. He was allowed to find peace, to enter Death’s realm and join his comrades. The Elvin were not sadistic by nature, they were beyond moral clauses. They held no feeling for others, no compassion for it was weakness. They were anything but weak.