The Third Eye Initiative (17 page)

With a quick leap backwards to widen the gap, he reached over his shoulder and drew his short sword with lightning speed. The figure sprang into action and closed the gap faster than Tsaeris would have believed possible for a man of that size, catching his sword arm by the wrist the instant the sword cleared the s
cabbard, quickly stealing the split second Tsaeris would have needed to end the man’s life. His grip was vice-like and Tsaeris though his wrist might break.

The man dragged Tsaeris into the alley by the wrist. Tsaeris struggled in vain, unable to break the iron grip. He did not want to go into that alley. Death was in there, and he knew it, but he was helpless to stop it.

The darkness closed around him. It took Tsaeris a few seconds to remember, through the terror, that he still had one arm free. He produced a dagger from beneath his sleeve and stabbed the man in the arm that was holding his wrist. The iron grip released, and Tsaeris ran nimbly up the wall and onto the roof. He dared not engage this man in combat.

Tsaeris relied on his speed and training to out distance his attacker, if indeed the attacker had followed him. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop, his speed and agility carrying him easily over the small gaps. He dared not look
back; he was moving very fast and feared a misstep that would cause him to miss a gap and fall. He knew that to fall meant being captured, and capture meant death. Better to just look forward and dedicate all of his attention to speed and escape. If the man was going to catch him at this rate, there was nothing he could do about it. Looking back would not help him. Before long, Tsaeris reached one of the large, ugly housing buildings.

Tsaeris climbed down from the roof and entered the structure. He ran through the interior hallways, which were drab and poorly maintained. He passed several door
s, all holding living quarters, and up two stair cases. At the top of the landing he opened a door, and found himself outside on one of the rickety walkways that connected the buildings. The dark wood was old and splintered in spots, and the waist high wooden railing had several large gaps were the wood had fallen away. Tsaeris walked cautiously, trying to ignore the alarming swaying of the old sky bridge.

Tsaeris spun as the walkway
groaned in protest. The large man landed with an audible thud. Tsaeris stood facing the man in shock, unable to believe that the man had caught up with him. Tsaeris turned to run, but before he could take more than a step or two, the man crashed hard into his back. Tsaeris lay face first in the snow, shocked and horrified?
How could he be so fast?
A rough kick rolled him onto his back. He felt his ribs crack.

The large cloaked figured stood looking down at him. Tsaeris tried to reach for his belt, but the man stomped down hard on his right hand. Tsaeris screamed. The man bent over, and Tsaeris launched a hard kick at his face. His ribs burned and ached in protest, but he was rewarded with a gush of blood exploding from within the hood. The man seemed unfazed.

The man bent over again, and was holding a knife. Tsaeris began to panic, trying desperately to find a way out of this. He blinked terrified sweat from his eye, and scanned his surroundings, but could find nothing useful.

The man began cutting away Tsaeris shirt, cutting right through the baldric that held his sword
scabbard, and cut the strings of his cloak. Tsaeris barely felt the cold in the heat of his terror. The man paused for a moment, and then pushed the blade into the skin of Tsaeris’ chest.

Through the agony, Tsaeris realized that the man was carving something into his flesh. One hand worked the knife, the other was held over his mouth to prevent anymore screaming. The man was taking his time, meticulously carving each word or symbol, Tsaeris couldn’t tell which.

He cried out silently into the leather glove over his mouth as the blade cut through his left nipple. The carving lasted an eternity, and when it was done Tsaeris was almost delirious with the pain, and his energy was sapped. His work done, the man grabbed Tsaeris by the ankle and dragged him a few feet to the railing of the walkway. The tattered remain of his clothing fell away.

Tsaeris wondered when it would end, when the man would finally kill him. The man let go of his ankle, and walked out of view. Tsaeris could hear him working, but could not see him. He didn’t even have the energy left to move his head. He was losing a lot of blood.

After a time the man returned to view and wrapped a rope around his neck. Tsaeris found it odd that he was suddenly emotionless about the whole thing, despite the fact that the man was clearly about to hang him. He supposed that he must have slipped into shock.

The rope tightened around his neck and he found that he could barely breathe, though the man had yet to actually hang him. The shortened supply of air combined with the blood loss made Tsaeris’ mind feel numb and foggy. He had trouble organizing his thoughts, and felt his awareness of his surroundings slipping away.
He cried out for a moment as he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, then everything went numb.

After an undetermined amount of time, Tsaeris felt himself slowly rising to a sitting position. How odd that his body should decide to sit all by itself. He u
sually controlled those actions. He was even more surprised when he found himself standing. What an amazing thing the body was.

He felt the ground slip away from beneath his feet. He was fl
ying! What a wonderful thing! He felt a sharp jolt surge through his neck and he had even more trouble breathing, but this didn’t concern him. He could fly! He wondered if birds needed to breathe. Perhaps they didn’t need to breathe because they were part of the air. Perhaps he was now like them.

He
had an odd sensation in his belly. It was painful for a moment, then the pain faded and his insides felt as light as air. He wondered how high he would float. His mind was becoming cloudier by the second.

Then as suddenly as it had come, he lost his ability to fly and crashed painfully to the ground. He was saddened by his loss for only a moment. As he lay on his back, he felt something warm and wet
lying across his stomach. He wondered what it could be. Then he wondered nothing at all.

The clinic was softly illuminated by the orange glow from the hearth and candelabras along the wall. Elias stared down at the beaten and mutilated body of his
protégé. He had been here before, this scene all too familiar.

He had come as soon as he heard, and had found Tsaeris alone in the clinic. He wondered where Tyrier was. He had questions that only the big man could answer.

His relationship with Tsaeris had grown considerably over the last few weeks. What had started as a strict teacher-student relationship had become a hesitant friendship. Their interactions had grown less intense, and there had even been moments of sincere levity between the two as they exchanged the occasional jab, and silly argument. Elias was still his teacher, and would harshly reprimand Tsaeris when necessary, but he did enjoy the new tone that their relationship had taken.

The truth was, Elias had been hard pressed to find reasons to reprimand Tsaeris at all lately. He followed orders and preformed his tasks with dedication and professionalism. It was Tsaeris’ excellent performance that had allowed for the relationship to grow at all.

Now Tsaeris was wounded as bad as, if not worse than, the time before Elias had recruited him into the Initiative. Elias had a pretty good idea of who was behind this, and when he found evidence to support his theory...

He le
ft the thought hanging, knowing that at the moment they were pointless. Still, he felt the familiar rage bubbling just below the surface, begging release. His stony expression never changed, and to an observer he would seem simply contemplative.

The door opened behind him, and Tyrier entered the room. He knew it was his brother because the man stomped like a giant as he walked. Elias said nothing at first, knowing Tyrier would approach him.

“Hello, Elias.” Tyrier was standing beside him now, looking down at Tsaeris.

“
How did this happen?” Elias asked, not returning the greeting.

“
Frank Rangaard brought him in. His kid, Aedrus, found Tsaeris hanging outside his window and cut him down.”

Elias nodded then pointed to the stitches on Tsaeris’ stomach.

Tyrier nodded. “Attacker slit his belly. The boy’s guts were hanging out when he was brought in. Lucky for him, those wounds tend to look more ghastly than they really are. Most people get sewn up and make a full recovery. Here’s what really surprises me.” Tyrier pointed to some large and deep bruises on Tsaeris’ neck. “He was dropped with the rope around his neck, but there’s no break. Boy’s more lucky than he has a right to be”

Elias sighed with relief.
“So he’ll be fine, then?”

Tyrier hesitated.
“I didn’t say that.”

Elias turned and glared at Tyrier.
“You just said that wound wasn’t so bad.”

“
That wasn’t the only wound, Elias,” Tyrier began. “He lost a lot of blood, and his airflow was cut off for a time. His right hand may be broken. Hard to tell with the swelling. Also his ribs are cracked. But the main concern was the loss of air and blood. No way to be sure what the damage will be until he wakes up.” Elias turned back to Tsaeris, not responding to the Doctor.

“
There’s more,” Tyrier said. He bent down and lifted a bandage that was wrapped around Tsaeris’ chest.

Several markings were carved into his chest, none of them in the common tongue. Elias felt his rage burst free, and his eyes blazed.

Tyrier gave him a concerned look. “What does it say?” Tyrier asked.

“Arinbinev”
Elias replied, then turned and began walking towards the exit. “It’s Turindiel,” he said as he reached the door, “for Abomination.”

***

Elias gritted his teeth as he walked. It must have been the Purity Union behind Tsaeris’ attack. It could not be a coincidence that on the day that The City enters into an alliance with the Turindiel, another Turindiel was found battered and mutilated with the word ‘abomination’ carved into his chest. Elias guessed that carving the word in the Turindiel’s own language was to add to the insult.

There was another question that Elias did not want to ask. Was Tsaeris targeted because of his race, or because of his role in stopping the assassination attempt on Ambassador Bel? He hoped it was the former, as the implications of the latter were just too dire.

Elias was taking a chance here, and he knew it. If the Purity Union knew Tsaeris was behind the failed assassination attempt, then what else did they know? Did they know who Tsaeris was? They must have at least followed him for a good part of the day. Was Tsaeris’ cover blown?

Luc
kily, The Purity Union was not The City Watch. If they had determined Tsaeris’ identity, they would simply be eradicated. Tsaeris’ life would not be forfeit. Thieves guilds and other such organizations were aware, to an extent, of the existence of the Third Eye Initiative. The Union had no real power beyond their own members. Of course, Elias had killed Agents in these situations if he deemed it necessary. He wondered if he would be showing this same leeway were it another agent other than Tsaeris.

Elias reached a slightly seedier quarter of Market District, known as Paradise Row. The nickname was meant to be ironic. The buildings here were slightly dirtier,
its people slightly more feral looking. It was by no means as bad as a slum district, but it was the worst that Market had to offer. The thieves, snitches, and a larger assortment of sordid people liked to drink and gamble in these taverns. Like all living things, they felt more comfortable among their own kind.

Elias pushed open the doors to The Screamin’ Pig; a tavern that was seedy even by the lower standards of this quarter of Market. The interior smelled of a mixture of various bodily excrement. Dwarves and men occupied the tables and every gaze turned his way as he entered. Many of them turned away nervously upon seeing him, and those closest tried very hard to look as small as possible after noting the dangerous look in his eyes.

Elias scanned the interior. A barmaid began to approach him, but he turned her away with a look. He looked at each face, and quickly found the one he was looking for. The man, clearly sensing that he was the one Elias was here to see, tried to strike up a conversation with a filthy, frightening looking dwarf at the table next to him, in an attempt to appear engaged and busy.

The dwarf ignored the man, and stood up to leave as Elias approached. Elias and the dwarf made eye contact for a second, and the dwarf walked past him silently. Elias sat down at the table.

“Hello, Narv,” Elias greeted. The man had thin, mouse-brown hair, and a long hooked nose. His face was smeared with tobacco ash and food remains. He was a snitch, a man who sold information. Elias used him when he needed answers quickly, and the information was not yet available to him through the Initiative. Elias had checked before coming here, and nobody had seen or reported the attack on Tsaeris, nor on any plan to attack him. Elias didn’t know how he did it, but when something eluded his organization, Narv always seemed to have something for him. He was one of Elias’ top, and most despised, unofficial Third Eye informants.

“
Elias. To what do I owe this rare pleasure?” Narv asked in his nasal voice.

“
Somebody cut up a tundra elf at around midnight. Who was it?”

“
Haven’t heard a thing about no tundra elf,” Narv replied.

Elias glared at him
“You’re lying.”

“
No, seriously. Who do you think it was?”

“
I’m not in a good mood, Narv. So I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me who it was,” Elias said, his voice even and cold.

“
I have no idea what you’re talking about, honest,” Narv said, seemingly confident that Elias wouldn’t follow through with the threat. Elias was about to prove him wrong.

Elias stood and lunged forward,
grabbing Narv by the arm, and forced his hand onto the table. He pulled a knife from his belt, and stabbed the man through the top of his hand, feeling the blade tip connect with the wooden table as it pierced through. Blood began to pool beneath his hand, and Narv cried out. Elias twisted the knife cruelly, his face was expressionless, but his knife hand seemed the embodiment of rage. Nobody in the Tavern dared to intervene.

He stopped
twisting the blade after a few seconds, and Narv was crying and bleeding from the terrible wound. “Ready to talk?”

Narv wept, and whined,
“I don’t know nuthin!”

“
Wrong answer,” Elias replied, and twisted the blade again.

“
I don’t know!  Maybe it was the Purity Union!” he screamed. Elias stared at him, waiting for the terrified man to elaborate. “Yeah. Purity Union are all angry ‘bout this elf allegiance thing. Talk is they gonna kill any elf they see in the streets. Ain't heard nuthin about any specific elf. That’s all I know, please! Don’t hurt me anymore.”

Elias stepped away from the table.
“Next time, you answer me right away and we’ll be able to avoid this unpleasantness.” He slapped a silver coin on the table.

A room full of nervous eyes followed him as he left the tavern.

***

Ivan Gorik was a wealthy man. He wore nice clothing and ate expensive food. He was a successful silk merchant, and lived in a big expensive house. Ivan had enough gold that he and his wife, Laura, had everything they could ever want. Save for one thing. Purity.

Filthy dwarves and now Fairies had the audacity to live in The City and act as if they were his equal. His wife and himself found them disgusting and insulting, but were helpless to do anything about. That is, until they had discovered the Purity Union.

The Purity Union was a large group of
like-minded people, all who appreciated the importance of the dominance of Humans in the City, and felt that the inferior races had no place among them, other than slaves. To date, only the Orcs were in their proper place.

He and Laura had started off as small time members of the Purity Union, attending the meetings and feeling like they were doing their part. Before long, Ivan was donating more and more money to their cause and slowly began to climb the ranks of the order. After ten years with the Union, he and Laura were now among the board of directors. His donations and tightly formed relationships had earned him that place.

More and more wealthy men and women had been attaching themselves to the Union, and the money that they contributed had helped the Union achieve their goals. Their power was growing, and Ivan was finally starting to feel that their ultimate goals were actually a possibility, and no longer a simple dream.

Somebody had sabotaged their attempts to stop the alliance with the tundra Fairies. This alliance was an affront to Humankind and an insult to everything the Union held dear. The Directors had talked about hiring contingencies rather than rely on one lone assassin, but the man’s reputation and the need to save resources had persuaded them otherwise. It had been a mistake, and one that would not be easily rectified.

Now that the alliance was sealed they would have to rely on other means to drive the Fairies from The City before they increased in number. The Union was exploring their options.

Ivan sat at the dinner table with his wife, enjoying a glass of wine. An Orc slave cleared the table of the dirty dishes, and he and Laura enjoyed the silence.

Somebody knocked at the door. He ignored it. His man at arms, Hamish, would answer and turn away whoever it was. Ivan was not to be disturbed during his evening meal and drink.

The door to his
dining room burst open, and a man entered. He was dragging the body of poor Hamish behind him. The man was of average build and height, and he had a neatly trimmed black beard and hair.

Ivan sprang to his feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

The man turned and locked the door to the
dining room. He turned to face them, and drew a long, angry looking dagger from his belt. Laura screamed, and ran behind her husband. Seeing the blade, Ivan moved quickly to the wall behind him, and pulled a decorative, but sharp, rapier from the wall mount.

“
Ivan and Laura Gorik?” the man asked.

“
Yes. Who are you and what do you want?” Ivan tried to sound dangerous.

The man began to approach.
“You two will be the first,” he said as he closed the distance. Ivan braced himself as the man approached.

Minutes later, a dark figure dropped agilely to the limestone walkway from the
dining room window, and disappeared into the night.