The Realms of Animar Page 9

  Semu scowled and glanced at the newcomers who in turn looked at one another nervously. “Alright,” Semu conceded. “But if there is a problem come get me right away.” He then turned to the group of newcomers and said, “Follow me.”

  ***

  Later that morning the second party arrived. It was indeed a group of horses, seven in human form riding on the others. They were adorned in dark cloaks and waved as they approached the gate. It was obvious that they were excited to finally reach their destination.

  “Welcome to Avryndale!” Marcos yelled from atop the gate wall.

  The man on the front horse waved up at him. He had a handsome, pleasant face and was seated atop a magnificent black mare. His unusual piercing pale blue eyes caught the attention of the guard even from afar.

  “Hello friend!” the lead man replied. “It looks like we missed the start of the festivities.” He then leaned down and whispered something into the ear of his horse and patted it on the side. “My brother here is worn out. We took turns which helped us make pretty good time actually.”

  “Well we are glad to have you,” Marcos replied. He thought a bit and then continued, “We normally request that all new arrivals morph before entering so if you don’t mind showing your forms I would really appreciate it.”

  “It’s not a problem friend,” the man replied. “My name is Mordigal by the way and don’t worry, we understand. You can never be too careful.” He then climbed down from his horse, glanced to the others in his party and motioned for them to do the same.

  One of the group, a striking woman with long golden hair, fell from her horse as she began to dismount. She took an awkward tumble and struck her head on the ground.

  “Ellyn!” Mordigal cried as he ran to her aid.

  Marcos watched with concern as the others gathered around the fallen woman and tended to her. Distressed, the horses began to stir.

  Mordigal called up to the guard, “Just a few minutes, sorry for the delay. She will be alright; the poor thing is just exhausted. We sprinted the last leg before switching off and she hasn’t regained her strength.”

  One of the horses reared back on its hind legs and snorted, clearly concerned for his fallen friend. Another man in the group approached the horse and quieted it instantly with a whisper.

  Marcos sighed as he contemplated the situation. He hated to make the newcomers wait and he was worried about the injured woman. Surely he could let them in. Semu would agree.

  The guard then motioned to the two men that manned the entrance. The guards questioned his order with an inquisitive glance but, after a brief stare, they obliged and the gate slowly opened.

  “Thank you so much!” the man known as Mordigal said.

  The guards watched while he then helped his fallen friend back onto her horse. He then turned and said something quietly to his companions and then together they followed him through the open gate and into the heart of Avryndale.

  ***

  The newcomers were led to an area where all visitors stayed while more permanent lodging was established. On the way, they passed by a number of happy townsfolk, some running, other skipping and dancing to the sounds of a variety of musical instruments that filled the air.

  Being a large group, the horses were provided a separate building that had been stocked with wheat, hay and an assortment of fresh fruits. The guard explained where his favorite amusements were and even offered to help them unpack. It was a nice offer but the group graciously turned him down.

  When Marcos turned to leave Mordigal quickly asked, “Actually, there is one more thing you can do for me. We brought a gift for Avryn. Do you know where I might find his house? I would hate to interrupt the events so perhaps I can just leave it for him there.”

  “Oh sure, actually we are quite close,” the guard replied. “Just go out this door and about….” He paused while he counted in his head, “…yes, eight houses down to the left, turn right at the next walkway, then the second on your left from there. He is over at the arena this morning. You should stop by and say hello!”

  “Definitely, you can count on it,” Mordigal said with a smile.

  As Marcos turned to leave he stopped and looked at one of the horses. His face was marked with curiosity. “That one have shoes on?”

  “Of course,” Mordigal replied calmly. “Without them our feet would be bleeding for days. The rock is terrible on the hoof.” He then shook his right foot and groaned while Ellyn slipped quietly behind the guard. She was an experienced killer who anticipated trouble well.

  Surprisingly, Marcos seemed satisfied with the response and even winced at the thought. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, hope to see you again soon.”

  The guard then smiled and turned to leave but abruptly came to a stop when he stumbled into Ellyn.

  He was clearly captivated by her beauty as her radiant smile had rendered him speechless. While he gazed into her alluring eyes and began to ponder her motives she slid a dagger into his heart. He made only the slightest whimper of a sound before she removed the blade and watched his body crumble to the floor. The man then morphed into a thick grey and brown porcupine. Death had come quickly.

  “Figures,” Ellyn said as she looked down at the prickly corpse.

  Mordigal rushed past her and peeked outside the barn to make sure nobody had seen them. He returned and grabbed Ellyn by the shoulder. He was angry but she was holding back laughter.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he asked angrily. “You could ruin everything!”

  She twisted away from his grasp and wiped the bloodied dagger on her cloak. “So dramatic darling. He noticed the shoes. I bought us some time.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mordigal said. “He didn’t have to die.” He thought a moment then looked at Ash and then the others. “Hide the body. Quickly.”

  Ellyn rolled her eyes, tucked the dagger in her belt and helped move the corpse deeper into the barn. They covered it with hay while the others made sure the horses were securely tied down.

  Mordigal then gathered the group together and went over the plan once more. He reminded them of the signal horns they each carried. It was vital that they only use them to alert the others if they had been discovered. They quickly reviewed their assignments, trying their best to leave no possibility uncovered.

  Once the discussion came to an end the pack finished their preparations. Ellyn removed the dagger from her belt and placed it in a saddle bag while Ash and the others followed suit with any metal they had been carrying. The ability to morph quickly was critical.

  The seven assassins glanced at one another and then quietly left the barn. They separated without a word. Their mission had begun.

  Chapter 11

  On his way to Avryn’s home Mordigal grew tense when a small group of giggling children approached. They paused briefly while they looked him over but then passed by, eager to join in the activities of the day.

  Relieved, Mordigal continued his walk and a few minutes later he was greeted by a round older woman who was carrying a large basket of fresh bread. He was at first apprehensive, but relaxed when she smiled and paid him no attention. Although he was a stranger to them, they curiously accepted his presence without hesitation. He found this most remarkable.

  At last Mordigal turned a corner and spotted the house that the guard had described. It was quiet, as were all of the homes in the area, the festivities were apparently taking place in another part of the village. To his surprise, the house did not appear to belong to a king. It was no larger or more elaborate than the other homes of the area, merely a simple wooden structure of average size with a thatched roof.

  He ducked behind some shrubs and waited, needing to be sure he would not be spotted entering the house. As he lingered, he wondered how the others in the pack were doing. He had heard no sounds of alarm so he assumed all was going well.

  A faint roar of applause followed by cheers erupted in the distance. With his assumption confirmed, Mordigal took on
e last look around and then proceeded to the front door. He turned the wooden handle and quickly entered then closed the door silently behind him.

  Daylight seeped in through the drawn shutters sending streaks of light throughout the room. Like its exterior, the inside of the home was simple. Mordigal entered into a living area of sorts with a stove and chimney to his right and a table surrounded by four chairs to his left. A small hallway straight ahead led to the back where he could see two doors, one on the left and one on the right.

  Mordigal froze when he heard something up ahead coming from one of the rooms. Mumbling perhaps. He listened. Slowly he crept forward. It was a boy who was talking to himself. Why was he here? Could it be this easy?

  He cautiously crept down the hall to the second door on his right. He could hear movement inside. The door suddenly opened inward and Mordigal stood face to face with a young boy. He was thin with blonde hair, sharp eyes and a broad chin. It was Avryn’s son, he just knew it. He was older than he had expected but looked just like his father. Mordigal would never forget his face.

  “Who are you?” the boy begged as he stumbled backwards.

  Mordigal stood in the doorway as he quickly inspected the room. He saw no weapons and the only other exit was a small window to his left. He then withdrew a finely crafted wooden dagger from his waist. It was ground to a sharp point that matched that of any blade.

  The boy recoiled onto his bed at the far corner of the room. His eyes darted around as he searched for an escape. The shutters on the window were closed. He was trapped.

  Mordigal took a step into the room and, without taking his gaze from the boy, calmly closed the door behind him. He took no pleasure in killing children. He was simply carrying out an order but in this case, he had a personal vendetta to repay that the boy was surely unaware of. It made the task no easier.

  It was then that he noticed something hanging above the bed. It was a carving of a galloping horse, magnificently cut into a round piece of oak. The detail was spectacular. The artist truly gifted.

  Although in a state of shock, the boy had not completely lost his wits. He took a deep breath.

  Mordigal quickly held out his hand and pleaded, “Wait!”

  It was too late. The boy screamed as loud as he could. His lungs were strong and forced Mordigal to wince.

  “Where did you get that?” Mordigal yelled over him as he pointed to the carving.

  The boy continued his awful shriek.

  Mordigal charged the boy and briefly fought off his flailing arms. The yelling stopped when he put the dagger to his young throat. He gestured to the carving and said, “Tell me where you got that or your life ends right now.”

  Tears had formed in the boy’s eyes. He sniffled.

  “Why?” he asked. “What do you want with it?”

  “Answer the question boy.”

  “My teacher…she gave it to me. A couple of years ago.”

  “Your teacher? Your teacher here?”

  “Yes, yes. Take it if you want. I don’t care. Please let me go.”

  Mordigal withdrew the dagger from the boy’s throat and contemplated his next move. He knew he was running out of time but an unexpected twist had developed that made him rethink his plan.

  ***

  The man stepped back but Thane could not take his eyes from the dagger. He could feel his heart raging beneath his chest. He screamed again. Hopefully someone would hear him. He did not want to die. It wasn’t his time. Who was this man? He wished he hadn’t snuck out last night and gotten into trouble. He would be with his father right now at the festival.

  Suddenly the man reached toward him. He fought off the stranger’s grasp and darted toward the corner. He closed his eyes and hoped. He longed to be outside, running in the fields away from the village and the trouble he had caused. If he could only be somewhere else, somewhere away from his attacker, somewhere safe. He pictured himself running in the brown winter grass, breathing in the cool air and galloping as fast as he could away from the danger, away from death.

  ***

  Mordigal cringed when the boy began to scream once more. Nothing audible, more of a yell to get attention. He hoped he would listen, but it was no use. There was no choice but to silence him.

  It was then, in a task as simple as grabbing a helpless victim sitting just inches away, that something rather unexpected happened.

  The boy vanished.

  Mordigal blinked and looked around - nothing. There one second, gone the next with only a slight ringing in his ears as a possible clue to what had happened. The door was still closed. There were no other possible exits.

  He heard voices yelling somewhere nearby. They had heard the screams, but where had he gone? Mordigal quickly opened the door and ran out of the room and left the house. He spotted a group of men to his right who were looking around, trying to locate the source of the scream. They saw the assassin and ran toward him.

  Without hesitation Mordigal morphed into a large brown and white wolf with thick fur. His eerie, pale blue eyes searched for the best path. When he found it, he ran.

  They yelled after him. He ran faster. Something landed just behind him. An arrow? No time to look. He ran faster, sniffed the air, looking for a familiar scent. Nothing. He looked farther ahead, more homes, then buildings. More people up ahead. Someone saw him and screamed. A short fat man ran away to his left. Hunger beckoned him. There was no time.

  ***

  Lady Trussil was gathering some papers from her desk when the door to the school opened and a woman in a dark cloak peered inside. The hood shadowed parts of her face but something about her seemed familiar.

  “May I help you?” Trussil asked.

  The woman briskly walked into the school and closed the door behind her. She turned to Trussil and lowered her hood with a smile while her long blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders. “Why yes, I think you just might.”

  The teacher eyed the stranger inquisitively, “Do I know you?”

  “Not as much as I know you,” the cloaked figure replied whimsically as she walked forward.

  “What do you want?”

  The woman continued up the center aisle between two rows of desks. “You know, I never understood why. Years I have wondered. Years it has tormented me.”

  Trussil could detect anger immediately. Contrasting the beauty of the mysterious stranger were eyes filled with hate.

  “Who are you?” Trussil asked as she took a step back. “What are you talking about? I think you should leave.”

  “Oh you know me,” the woman replied. “We met several years ago but apparently it slipped your tiny Avian brain. Did you know that every person has a unique scent? No, of course not. Your kind don’t have our senses do you? Too bad for you. But us, we remember every last one of them and when I fortunately stumbled upon yours as I strolled by well, it would have been just plain rude not to pop in and say hello. Don’t you think?”

  They stared at one another in silence as Trussil’s mind raced for answers. Without a word the woman suddenly morphed into a sleek grey wolf. Trussil quickly picked up a chair and held it to her front.

  She considered shifting her forms but then she looked to the windows. The shutters were still closed. Making matters worse, with a snarl the beast sprinted towards her, fast.

  ***

  Mordigal, still in his wolf form, had started to pant but kept running. He darted between two buildings. Shops perhaps? Smells. Good smells. But they were everywhere. People yelling and screaming. Things being thrown at him. He heard the horn. The others must have been spotted as well. Where was the boy? Where did he go? He needed to complete his mission. Mordigal then caught a familiar scent. There it was. Then gone. Too many. Must focus. Double back. There, there again. Faster. Ellyn is close. The scent he knows. She is in danger. He loved her. It was wrong but he loved her. He knew that now. Faster. He had to hurry. Something hit him in the side. It stung. He yelped but continued on. Up ahead, just up ahead she was. Ellyn was
there. He loved her. Ash would be angry. She is close.

  He arrived at a large building. He smelled her inside. He loved her. The men were close. They were near the door to the building. Need another way in. No time. Windows with shutters. Have to try. No choice. More yelling to his right. Faster. The building was right in front of him. He jumped.

  ***

  Avryn, followed by the blacksmith Guderian and a number of other men, were running towards his house when a large brown and white wolf crossed the path just a few feet in front of them. The beast paid them no attention; his focus was elsewhere.

  Without hesitation, Guderian stopped, drew a finely crafted maple bow from around his shoulder and quickly launched an arrow toward the creature. The arrow whistled through the air and pierced the wolf’s left side, causing a yelp to spill forth from its gaping jaws. Without slowing the beast continued on.

  ***

  Trussil backed up while the grey wolf scowled and lunged at her. She struck it with the chair but it was just a glancing blow. Trussil swung the chair again but this time the wolf was ready. She grabbed the chair with her jaw and ripped it from Trussil’s hands. The wolf growled and jumped for her throat.

  She heard a crash to her right and splinters of wood flew into the school. Another wolf, this one brown and white, sprung into the room. In a blur, the second wolf transformed into a cloaked figure and tackled the other before it could strike. They went down in a heap, her vision obstructed by the cloak draped around them. There was a brief struggle on the floor and then she heard a loud yelp. The struggle had ended.

  The door to the school burst open. Avryn and Guderian ran into the building along with a handful of other men. Without hesitation, Guderian quickly drew his bow and aimed it at the cloaked figure crouching over the dead wolf.