Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1) (35 page)

Nim performed a flowery bow, taking the opportunity to unsheathe the dagger from his left wrist, yet still hidden from sight. “That is what some call me yes, but you may refer to me as vengeance.” At this the man in black robes raised his head, his eyes went wide and he dropped the bowl he had been holding, its contents spilling to the floor.

“Zander Halcyon!” The Priest said as the words were being strangled out of him.

The assassin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the blood Mage's gaunt features turned white before he was able to school his emotions.

“So then, I warrant a trip from the hand of Retribution? Does that mean that the hand of Justice is also near?” The Assassin's calm demeanor did nothing to betray the worry that was gnawing at his gut.

Nim shook his head. “He is off training a new hand of justice for a new Lord of Vengeance. My title will soon be passed to one more suited to the job. I am however surprised that a priest in your company would know of us. Did you serve with the Knights Priest?”

The priest of Thom nodded dumbly obviously affected by the presence of Nim and Zander. Unlike his companions he had neither the willpower nor the self confidence to hide his emotions.

“A pity, so I am to assume that you yourself have an apprentice. That must be the boy that my men were hired to take care of. I am thinking that was not our clients motive at all though. Sending Assassins after you has never brought your wrath down upon any of the other guilds before however, so what is different about this occasion? I know they did not kill the boy or you would not have said he would soon replace you. “

“No, they didn't kill the boy. They did however kill a young woman that was in my employ and under my protection. She was too young to die, and your time has just run out.” As Nim was preparing to let loose his dagger a loud crashing sound came from overhead, causing everyone in the room to pause and look up.

“Ah, it appears that you did not get all of my men Mithriannil. That is my Armory, and even now they are preparing for your destruction.” The leader of the Assassins stood quiet and collected in front of them before Zander broke out in laughter. “What are you laughing about Halcyon?”

“Well for one that you think that any of your men or your toy Mage there can handle me, let alone Nim. While you and your men were here in the shadows developing your skills against each other and your marks he and I were on the field. Have you ever faced a Dracair assassin? No? How about a warrior? No? Well if you haven't fought either of those I doubt you have ever faced one of their Magnus Dracani. Secondly, that isn't any of your men above us.” As if to punctuate his statement a trap door opened in roof in the middle of the room. A small form dropped from the hole and two projectiles left its hands before landing softly on the soles of his feet.

The Assassin who had survived on the streets of Safeharbor for all these years couldn't help the look of surprise as a dagger stuck into the wall beside his head, and another sprouted from his shoulder. “Get them!” He ordered, his voice betraying his incredulity, as he stood and flung two of his daggers at the intruders.

“I am sorry Lyonel, but these two men have done more for Thom than any others in existence, except perhaps for the Left hand of Vengeance.” The Priest began speaking as the Mage began to release the energy he had been restraining, by the time he finished his sentence the fight was over.

Zander had been prepared for the Mage, and clicked the last portion of his shaping into place as the Mage finished his own. It only took moments for the Blood Mage to realize his folly as he released his spell. The fireball impacted an invisible shield that Zander had built around the Mage. As the energy of the fireball was released, the shield began to absorb and refocus that energy into new smaller fireballs, creating a chain reaction inside the shield that was inescapable.

Victor was the first to grab the incoming projectile, immediately reversing it's trajectory in one fluid movement sending it back towards the Grand Master of the Assassins. As he did this he pulled two more daggers quickly and flung them towards the man. Those three daggers were quickly joined by two more as Nim threw his own before spinning, grabbing and throwing the other dagger that the Grand Master had thrown.

The Grand Master had lived a long life, and was one of the few men who might have been able to live through such a barrage, however he had been so surprised when Victor, a small child, had grabbed his dagger from mid air and sent it back at him that he was only able to stop two of the blades and dodge another. That left three blades that tore deeply into his body. One of which was his own which had been coated in an especially virulent poison.

“That's… not right.” The Grand Master of Assassins said, he could feel the poison seeping into his leg, in less than a minute he would lose all motor control.

“I have a message from Lia Swiftstar.” Victor said as he approached the man who had taken his friends life with one order.

“What's the message boy.” The assassin was using all of his willpower to remain standing as the poison spread throughout is body. The screams of the Blood Mage had finally died out as the fires within Zander's shield consumed everything within. The shield amplified whatever shaping it touched, so the Mage would burn indefinitely in his own magical flames, not that there was much left to burn.

“You have taken the life of someone dear to me.” He continued to stalk towards the Grand Master, his Visage calm. “You have made attempts upon the lives of my friends.” No longer able to contain the rage bubbling up inside him his voice became louder and his expression grew harder. “For this, your life is forfeit. For this I send my messenger.”

“And who is her messenger boy. By what name should I call you as I curse your soul from the netherworld?”

“I am Vengeance.” He pulled one of his daggers. “I am Pain.” His hand slid down towards his boot from which he pulled another. “I am Justice.” In one fluid motion he rolled onto the desk and slammed into the assassin stabbing with both daggers. “I am Death.” He said coldly as the two overturned the chair, and landed in a heap.

Nim allowed Victor to do this because he knew that if he didn't that the boy would feel robbed of the revenge that he wanted for his friends death. He also knew, that like all such revenge, it would be a hollow victory. It was however better that Victor learn it now instead of later. He looked around the room and his gaze fell upon the priest who was now kneeling in the corner praying.

“So priest what do we do with you?” Nim said walking over to the man.

“Do as you will Mithriannil. My life is in the service of death. You have made my master very happy this night.” He rose slowly and walked towards Nim. When he was close enough he whispered. “His champion is turning out nicely. Our master is very pleased.”

“I am no servant of Thom!” Nim said disgustedly.

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong Mithriannil. You are one of his better servants whether you know it or not. You will have a place of honor in the next life.” He continued in the same whispering tone. “You who has aided in the training of his champion. You who is Vengeance incarnate. You who has yet to complete your role in the molding of the champion into a weapon of death.” The end of the priests statement was through a gurgling mouth as the blade sliced through his throat.

“What was that for?” Zander asked as he walked up behind Nim who was cleaning his blade.

“He talked too much.” Nim said flatly giving Zander a look that said he would tell him more later.

“Ah, that he did.” Zander said as he turned towards where Victor knelt on the desk looking over the man who had been the Grand Master of this guild. He sat in his chair, four daggers sticking out of him, and a look of confusion frozen on his face. “The man was a bit overconfident in his skills.”

“No, he was just a fool.”

Zander nodded, moving over to the shield he had erected around the Mage and began the process of unmaking it, careful to direct the energy contained within towards other sources.

Nim walked over to Victor and lifted him from the desk and set him on his feet. “Wasn't quite what you thought it'd be was it?”

Victor wiped his eyes. “No, it wasn't. Megan is still dead, and nothing we have done here tonight has made it any better has it?”

“That's where you're wrong. We have made it so they cannot do something like this to anyone else. We need to get home and go to bed though. If we don't join the armies they may fall apart from grief.” He said with a smile and a wink.

That was one of the things that Zander liked about Nim, even among all of this death he would still be trying to make his friends laugh. Perhaps it was morbid to laugh after such violence, but it was also cathartic. He couldn't help but add. “Aye, if we leave Cantel and the Theromvores at it they'll either end up dead or take all the fun.” Both men looked towards Victor. “Tomorrow afternoon your real training will begin.”

They started to head for the door, but Victor stopped and looked up as they walked under the the trap door that Victor had popped out of. “Hey Nim?”

“Yes Victor?”

“Think we can take the stuff they have up there. There's a whole lot of equipment. If nothing else we could sell it.” Victor said, his face pensive.

“You know, the boy is right. We are getting old, we almost forgot adventuring rule number one. Always take all the treasure. You never know what you'll need later.” Zander chuckled.

After a moment of thought Nim said, “Ok, you go find us a wagon Zander, Victor and I will loot the place. We can take whatever money we find to the churches before we leave, and everything else is for us.”

“No, not for us Nim.” Zander said calmly.

Nim looked at him surprised. “Not for us? What do you mean.”

“For him.” Zander pointed at Victor. Nim nodded in concession a moment later.

“For me?!” Victor said confused.

“Aye, your gonna need it sooner or later. We might as well start your hoard now. It's in our blood lad.” As he left the two to start their search he added quietly to himself. “It's in our blood, and stronger in you than any I've seen before.” 

Chapter 15

The Constant Struggle

Year 3043 AGD

Month of Ragnós

Second Day

Continent of Terroval

Northwest of Asylum

Protectorate Base Camp

Victor's body was still tingling as they reached the Knights camp. The act of being transported by the lines of power was a singularly invigorating experience. It had lasted mere moments, but in that time, his consciousness had perceived the rolling fields of gold and the looming mountains that bordered them to the north. As he passed over the forest, he saw thin creatures on four legs frolicking through a clearing. Then, with a blink of an eye, it was over. When he told Nim how beautiful, it had been his mentor had simply looked at Victor and blinked.

The camp was in a state of, what Victor thought to be, ordered chaos. The tents and all of the equipment were neat and tidy. He looked down the rows of tents in the vast camp and whistled. It looked like someone had put a line down and the tents had followed that line perfectly. Among that perfect order there were thousands of people moving in every direction. He knew that each had a job to do and was going about it in the quickest manner possible, but it still looked like everyone was moving around with no idea what to do next.

“Is it always this busy?” Victor asked in a loud voice so that he could be heard over the steady cacophony of a busy army encampment.

“Not always,” Nim said grinning, before his tone turned a bit more solemn. “Sometimes the camp is so quiet that the only perceptible sound is the crackle of the fire. That seems to occur most after a heated battle. When the men want to order their thoughts, and watch the flame as it dances carelessly within its confinement. That's when man envy's the flame most of all I think.”

In the middle of the camp, there was a tent the size of a large house. Unlike the tan tents that made up the rest of the camp, this tent was black, with the purple and gold of the Protectorate trimming its borders. The symbol of the Protectorate adorned the front flap. Guards were posted around it's perimeter, and in the few minutes it took Victor and Nim to reach the tent he saw a dozen messengers run in and out of the tent.

“Halt, state your business.” One of the two guards guarding the entrance intoned.

“Soldier, I know you're doing your job, but if you don't move out of my way I'll gut you where you stand.” The guard bristled visibly at this, and started pulling his sword, but before he could clear the first inch of the scabbard his partner was holding the man's hand in place. The second man leaned over and whispered in the first ones ear, and the man who had begun pulling his sword blanched visibly before sliding his sword back home.

“Master Mithriannil forgive me, I am from the city of Freeport, and though I have heard of your exploits I have never seen you in person.” He moved out of the way hastily, looked quickly at Victor as if he might bar his entry, but then thought twice about it and kept quiet.

The tent was one big room with desks spread out along the edges, and the center held a large table with a map of the area upon its surface. There were translucent figurines placed about the map, some were a shade of blue, some were a shade of gray, and the rest wore a red tint. Their entrance to the tent went seemingly unnoticed, no one visibly acknowledging their presence, that proved to be no deterrent to their detection however as they were spoken to a moment later.

“Nim, come here a moment.” The squat figure standing at the map with is back towards the door said, somewhere between and order and a request.

Nim walked up to the map on the right side of the man. “Yes High Commander Cantel?”

“Oh none of that rank nonsense in here, at least until I start issuing orders. “ Stewart Cantel grinned. “I would however like it if you didn't gut my soldiers for doing their jobs.”

“Ah yes, well I wouldn't have gutted the lad. I might have given him a black eye and a few bruises, but he would have been good for duty after a visit with a healer.”