The Forgotten
Chapter 9

“Are you here?” Echoed a commanding voice from the corner of the room.

“Who are you?” Replied a towering man with sculpted muscles under his leather armour.

A cloaked figure with deep red eyes and short brown hair tied back into a neat ponytail emerged from the shadows. He wore a fine suit with black trousers with no patterns on them yet the quality was superb. Around his waist, he wore a sword belt with a jewel-encrusted sword sheathed at his side, with two knives slightly showing their pommels by his lower back.

“Myval Nicoll, to what do I owe this most unexpected visit?’

“You mean my lord, do you not?” Myval replied with some amusement in his voice.

“I am not one of your subjects, you came here for my services. Now, what do you want?”

The lights flickered. There was no other light but the four pedestals with bronze bowls on top with a small fire on each. Myval had come to the assassin when he was bored of waiting to be king, and asked them to kill his father but to make it look as natural as possible. They did an excellent job. The man fell ill after complaining about a cough. Days later, he could no longer move. He had to be fed and watered by his servants before leaving this world.

Myval saw his father before he passed. The man knew he had a hand in his death but couldn’t stop it or his rise to power. His parting words to the old fool was that he had won. In the last moments of the king’s life, he laughed at the boy before starting to choke on his own blood.

It annoyed Myval that his father laughed. A man that was about to die while losing everything should have been angry, yet was not.

Putting the thoughts of the old king from his mind, he focused again on the man in front of him.

“What do I call you?” Myval said to the man.

“Whatever you like, I am not your friend, nor will you find leverage with me to use as your puppet. We had this conversation the last time you were here. Now speak!”

Clenching his fists in an effort to suppress his anger, Myval replied, “I want you to kill the prince of Locklia. Can you do that?”

Curious, the assassin cocked his head to reveal dark skin and a small grin. behind which were perfectly white teeth.

“Sowing more discord are we Myval? The kingdom borders yours but has always been at peace.”

“My plans are not your concern.”

“So be it but that won’t be cheap. Asking me to kill an old man no matter who he was is child’s play. Asking me to kill a warrior prince will take time. What are you offering?”

“How about a partnership? You will receive a castle and the highest title I can bestow.” Myval said in a regal voice.

“The Assassins of Saketh do not seek alliances. We are a neutral party that serves one another only. You know this Myval and your lack of knowledge is beginning to become annoying.”

With a smile, Myval replied, “Well, I thought I would try.”

He put a large sack full of diamonds, emeralds and rubies on the table. Their value worth hundreds of thousands in gold, a king’s ransom if there was one.

“I’m sure this would cover any cost, though I have one other request.” He placed a small curved knife on the table carved into it a story of an army of horses storming down an army whose origin is unknown. “Kill the prince with this knife and you’ll get a bonus.”

Gently, he put another bag on the table and untied its strap to reveal a blue diamond eye.

“I believe this holds great power in your order. Being able to follow your suspect before even being in the same country to them could be quite an advantage.”

The assassin’s mask faded slightly, his mouth opening in wonder at the object in front of him. Myval saw the man’s figures shift towards his cloak.

“Don’t do anything silly now,” Myval said while small streaks of red light were circling around his hands. His eyes were glowing red, reacting to the magic in his hands.

The assassin removed his grip from his weapons and put his hands in front of him in a sign of peace.

Myval, seeing the man back down in front of him, continued, “Oh and one final request. It must take three months. Do we have a deal?”

“So be it.” The assassin replied in a commanding voice.

The assassin took the blade from the table in front of him and put it in his belt. He turned walking and within a handful of paces, he could no longer be seen.

“Everyone has a price.” Myval whispered to himself as he turned in the opposite direction and walked into the darkness. Behind him the lights going out like they had not been lit in the first place.

-

After the encounter with the wolves, Celer stood there for some time looking at them running into the distance. She had questions. Why were their eyes red? What stopped them from attacking her?

Celer realised that they were under some form of control, turning them violent and rabid. Was this the only pack affected?

Celer walked in the direction that the wolves ran, her muddy coat acting as a camouflage in the woods from any would-be attackers. She did not hide. She stood tall, walking with grace and authority.

She realised the path wasn’t a bog or sinking pit. Obvious really, she thought, as it was a light grey with different footprints all over it. The marsh, on the other hand, was uneven, wet and sprawling with plants. She cursed herself for being so foolish. It nearly cost her life.

The path forked off, repeating many times over. It would be easy to lose your way, but the distant peak of the mountain range could just be seen through the gap between trees. It gave the wolf the direction she needed to go.

There were no other problems since the ambush, in fact, there was nothing at all. Celer saw no other living being in the marshes, not even flies or frogs that would usually revel off the watery surroundings.

She soon left the barren land to find herself in fields that had been left to grow over the years. Nettles littered the fields. In the distance to one side, there was a mixture of blueberry and raspberry bushes that seemed to be marking an outline of the field. The vegetation in the area seemed to be untouched. A banquette for many creatures but not for her.

Celer walked through the fields, her legs now hiden with only the top of her body and head being tall enough to see over the nettles. She wasn’t too bothered about their stings as her fur coat gave enough protection.

She wondered how far she had travelled. Although she was still some distance from her destination, she had nearly travelled a full day and spent at least half of it running. Sparing a minute for Rendall, she wondered how he was doing and hoped he was okay.

In the distance, she heard faint cries. She couldn’t be sure of what from her distance. She started to sprint lightly. Going any faster would risk giving away her location, and the ground had become uneven. She could not see where her next step would land, so she had to focus on the feel of each footstep.

Time passed, the noises grew louder. But she still couldn’t tell what made the noises. Reaching the end of another field boundary, this one only parted by a few fallen rocks. No doubt they used to be a wall.

She put both forelegs on the pile of rocks to get a better view. In the distance, she saw a figure. A black cloak floating in the wind, holding woven staff with brown flecks of wood. It looked curiously like the Vesper, the creature that she and Rendall encountered when running through the woods at night. However, what confused her is they had never been known to be seen in daylight. She assumed they were weakened or hurt by the sun.

Celer knew that there was something strange if not outright evil from the figure. She roared deeply, a call to battle. The creature turned, its hood seemingly empty.

It moved towards her, floating rather than running. Celer bared her teeth but her eyes, her eyes glowed a shining silver. Getting faster, the space between the two went from a mile to little more than a hundred meters.

The dirt black wolf prepared to jump, her mouth open, ready to close in on the cloak’s neck. It moved to the side and Celer only caught the figure’s deep back robe in her teeth.

Shaking her head to spit out the fabric, she turned to see the figure looming over her. It struck her in the ribs with its staff. Its hands were glowing with black swirls. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t human. Celer, climbing to her feet, realised this too late.

Outmatched, her legs shook below her body. The force of the impact was powerful and had cracked a rib or two. Looking at the ground, Celer saw the marks from where she had slid. It was almost ten meters and the grass, nettles and plants had been flattened or ripped from the earth. Much of the dirt that stained her coat had come off and there were hints of pure white below.

Getting ready for her next attack, Celer crouched ready to pounce. Spikes of pain hit her but she put it from her mind and got ready for the next charge.

The figure screamed. The screech cut into her hearing, deafening the wolf and causing her to lose balance. Celer thought perhaps was it angry, perhaps it thought it killed her in that one hit.

Moving towards her, it lifted the staff above its head and swung down. Seeing the move, the wolf moved to one side, much like the thing had done to her moments ago and struck. Biting into the robe she found no flesh or bones beneath, only more fabric. The figure screamed in pain, this time deeply. Clearly, the bite hurt like it had never been injured before. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

In an effort to survive, the figure swung its staff sideways towards Celer. It connected with the wolf like a tidal wave, forcing her meters away. This time she didn’t move for several moments. As she opened her eyes, the figure looked at her with the empty abyss that was its face. She stood with all her might but her front legs collapsed from the strain. Again she tried to stand, this time managing to stay on all fours. With an effort and sharp pains from her chest she howled one last time, it was the howl of defiance and of one last stand.

The figure hissed at her, she should be dead already, but nothing before had stood up to it. It waded forward one last time to end the wolf’s life. As it stood over her, the cloaked figure heard growls all around it, yet they weren’t from the wolf in front of her. Nine small black wolves stood around the it, all baring their teeth at it, all crouching low ready to strike.

The balance of power had shifted and knowing the fight was now lost it charged towards one of the black wolves screaming, forcing the smaller wolf to move aside. Not one wolf chased as the demon was too fast, instead the nine small black wolves went to aid Celer. They were the pack that she faced off before. She bowed her head in thanks before lying down and closing her eyes.

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