Dryad Eyes Side-Story: Death Walks At Night
Two names. That was enough to start with, and it took only a short time before those two names quickly became four. Four names, and from those, information. Frequent haunts. Other names: friends, relatives, associates. All more than enough. Four names. Four targets. Four men destined to die.
The first. He drank in the tavern, sitting close to the fire with a girl at his side. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, the smile of knowing she'd soon have more coin in her purse. He was drunk, she was more than willing, and together they had risen and walked and laughed and climbed to a room provided especially for such occassions of business. A bath of water, steaming and freshly laid, was set behind a screen. She led him to it, undressed him and herself, and he lowered his body into the hot water. With a sigh of relief he leaned back in the tub, stretching and relaxing. Plans early had been botched, yes, but at least now he could spend his time the way he wanted. At least for now. As his whore for the night began to caress his shoulders, a loud pounding rose from the door. He cursed and instructed the woman to see to this unwelcome visitor. She must have been gone for several minutes, but it seemed only seconds before her hand came again to his shoulder, her touch coming from behind, from out of sight. He almost didn't see the silver bladed dagger appear at his throat, and did not have time before it filled the bath with his blood. When the woman truly returned, she could do nothing but scream.
The second walked hurriedly, his stride long and determined. News traveled quickly, and already he knew of the death of his friend. He had to reach the others, make sure they knew. One of their number, dead, and so soon after they had failed in their task, could not be a coincidence. He turned down an alley, checking over his shoulder as he ducked into the close confines of the pathway. As he turned back he came face-to-face with a living shadow. The figure stood before him, cloaked in black, only the top of his head visible, with shaggy black hair creating an illusion of darkness. "Roech," the shadow said, calmly, almost a whisper.
Roech stepped back. "You killed Jerod."
A single nod, and then the silver blade flashed. Roech moved fast, dodging backward and escaping the thrust by an inch. He scrambled to draw his own knife, barely deflecting the second blow and using his greater muscle to shove back at his attacker. The shadow took a step back and spun, his other hand coming around from beneath his cloak to reveal a katar. The blade opened a gash across Roech's side, and with a cry of pain he drove himself further at the shadow. He swung his knife almost wildly, trying desperately to fend off the assassin, but every move he made, the assassin countered with ease. Every attack he made only produced a quick and effective counterattack by the assassin, katar or dagger making shallow cuts across torso and arms, until the stinging pain of it became torture. Roech, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, delivered a stunning kick to the assassin's stomach and ran. He only made it a handful of steps before he felt the first blade rip through the back of his knee. The second blade was just as effective, and Roech found himself rolling in agony across the ground, the points of twin throwing knives protruding from his ruined kneecaps. He screamed, and screamed, and was finally silent as the silver dagger cut his throat.
The third. Erek paced about his room. Word had reached him. Jerod and Roech, both dead. How? Who? Someone knew they were involved with Treyp's attack, of course. He cursed. Lithia! The little bitch must have told them. He should have killed her when he'd had the chance. No... That wouldn't have done any good anyway. He should have--
He threw open the door and shouted down the stairs. "TEA! Where's my thrice damned tea?!" That's what he needed. Tea. Nice, hot, soothing, tea. He cursed again and slammed his fist against the wall. Dead, both of them, and here he was, waiting on tea. What was wrong with him? Nerves, he told himself. Just nerves. He was becoming paranoid. Maybe their deaths were just coincidence? Jerod offed by a desperate whore and Roech done in by a mugging gone wrong. Yeah, that was it. Then why was he so convinced that he was being watched? Why did he feel as though any moment, he would be next?
There came a knock at the door and Erek almost screamed. He rubbed at his eyes, took a breath, and opened the door. The serving boy bowed his head at Erek's glare and hurried to set the tray of tea on the room's small table. "Anything else, sir?" the boy asked, only to be roughly shoved out of the room, the door slammed harshly behind him. Erek crossed to the table and dropped into its only chair. Tea. Calm the nerves. He poured from the pot and drank deeply, not caring as it burned his tongue. He drained the first cup and poured again.
"You make it so easy."
He almost dropped the cup as he drank further. The voice was sudden and almost seemed to come from nowhere. He turned in his seat, finding the speaker sitting in the open window. Had the window already been open? He shook his head. No. Closed and locked. He was certain. "Who are you?"
"Vengeance." He didn't move, only sat upon the window sill, hazel eyes peering out of a mess of black hair. "Twice you and your companions attacked a girl, a Dryad girl."
Erek laughed, but his voice shook when he spoke. "And so you're out to kill us?"
"Succeeding so far. Three of you are dead. Only one more left."
Three. Erek swallowed, hard, and drank down the last of his tea. Three dead. Then... "Endek. You killed Endek..."
"No." The assassin shook his head. "Jerod, Roech, and... you."
"I'm not dea--" The words died in his throat. Nothing would come out, only a hoarse rasping sound. There was a sudden tightness in his belly, a cramping pain that shot quickly through him and would have caused him to cry out if he could find any voice at all.
"It's a quick poison, but I can assure you, it is extremely painful. Like acid, it will eat away at your organs, spreading swiftly, until your heart dies. You'll find it almost impossible to breathe, and the burning will become so intense that death won't come soon enough. I know you lead the attacks, I know you wanted Treyp dead." Suddenly the assassin was beside him, his approach perfectly silent, and he leaned close, lips beside Erek's ear. "Enjoy your tea."
They found him dead, body stretched across the table, deep gouges in the soft wood where his fingernails had dragged. The tea pot had been shattered against the floor, swept off either in rage or in those final struggles as death came. Poison, they surmised, for no wounds could be seen and there was no sign of anyone else in the room. Even the window was bolted and locked from the inside.
The fourth... Matthew Ke'artes would find him soon.