A morbid silence filled the room.
Shade smirked.
“Careful Sadrik,” asked Morgath, “do you know who that is?”
“Bah! There’s only one of him,” Sadrik argued. The Doelm drew a long spiked sword from his belt. He made the mistake of resting his left hand on the bar. He pointed his sword at the assassin’s neck. “You hear me, Shade,” he growled, “I said we’re taking you in!”
Shade shook his head. It appeared someone was trying to get back on Lewd’s good side. Too bad the Doelm bet on the wrong team. He saw Sadrik’s hand shaking nervously on the bar. Shade drew a dagger in the blink of an eye. He drove the blade deep into the thief’s hand and even deeper into the bar.
Sadrik screamed and dropped his sword. He tugged and pulled at his bleeding hand, but not even his Doelm strength could wrench it free. He kicked and screamed until he eventually passed out from the pain.
“Anyone else interested in taking me in?”
Every person in The Green Barrel gasped and backed away.
Shade threw Bwedrig a couple additional bloodstone pieces for the mess. He basked in the stunned silence. He calmly finished his wine. He poured himself another glass over two more grounded clumps of clay.
The tavern door opened again.
Shade heard the rattle of fine jewelry, but the notable absence of footsteps. Instead, he heard the sound of scales slithering across stone. This was no Shamite, although the assassin could only imagine one audience worse. An unsettling hiss rang in his ear and confirmed his suspicions. Lewd had sent a Syssrah to parley with him and Shade knew exactly who, the warlord’s personal envoy—Yessheeran.
Yessheeran’s entrance was followed by the heavy boots of twelve henchmen. Far be it from a backstabbing Syssrah to come alone.
Shade smiled. Twelve would not be enough.
“Why Yessheeran,” he fed him a line, “it’s about time you crawled out of your hole. You were beginning to offend me.”
Shade was disappointed when he did not even get a rise out of his new foe. His skin crawled in revulsion as the disgusting snake-man slinked near.
Yessheeran stopped at the Dark Elf’s side. He balanced on his long scaled tail. His hips swayed causing his torso to hover snakily in the air, though his tail lay perfectly still. His numerous gold chains and piercings jingled over his rich satin robes. He may have been a snake, but he dressed like a Shamite Mogul. His headdress was accented by regal green and yellow stripes. An unhooded gold snakehead, with eyes set with green emeralds, crowned the headdress. He licked his hand and ran it over his well-oiled shiny forehead.
Shade snickered, as if snakes could hide beneath jewelry.
Yessheeran wasn’t laughing. He merely pulled Shade’s knife out of Sadrik’s hand. He watched in cold amusement as the Doelm’s body hit against the floor with a loud thud.
“Take him away,” the snake-man ordered.
Shade’s hand went to his blade, but only two henchmen lumbered forward and dragged Sadrik’s unconscious body out the door. They did not return. ‘How disappointing,’ the assassin thought, ‘now there are only ten of them.’
Shade did not even acknowledge Yessheeran, or the knife in the Syssrah’s hand. He merely faced forward a cool but determined look dancing across his hard cut features. Yessheeran rolled the sharp edge of the assassin’s dagger over his long slender fingers as if it were a toy. His serpentine eyes bore into Shade’s right cheek. A creepy grin crawled across his green lips, “Sssso, what bussinesss bringsss you to Kurn, Ssshade?”
“A waiting game,” he replied smoothly.
“Ssstop playing gamess,” Yessheeran hissed, “who’sss your mark now, Ssshade?”
Shade smirked as he took another sip. He watched in dry amusement out of the corner of his eye as the group of thick-skinned thugs shifted nervously behind him. “That all depends on who wants to play.”
“The word on the ssstreet is that you’re here to ssslay Warlord Lewd. Isss thiss true, Ssshade?”
“I only play for high stakes.”
“We have alwaysss had great ressspect for your work in the passst, Ssshade,” the Syssrah slithered behind the assassin and whispered softly in his ear, “have we not alwaysss provided you with a ssanctuary in Kurn from which to sstrike your prey? Have we not sstuffed your pocketsss fat with coinsss to disspossse of the sself-righteousss refussse who walk the sstreetsss above? Why then after all thisss time do you wish to ssever the bondsss of our ssacred partnerssship and sstrike at the very hand that feedsss you? Do you know what happensss to the headsss of ssnakes that bite the handsss of their masstersss back in my desert homeland?”
“Let me guess, your people talk them to sslow agonizing deathsss.”
“Your ssarcasm is esssteemed not here, Ssshade,” he breathed hotly into the assassin’s ear, “I asssk only that you consssider the penaltiesss of your own boasstfulnesss. Do you realizze what you’ll be giving up, Sshade? You will find no more ressst in your sswampsss. You will be forever branded an enemy of the Kurn ssewarsss. You will be a marked mortal from here to the end of your daysss. The hunter reborn the hunted. Give ear to what I sssay,” he stretched around to Shade’s other ear, “consssider the fruit of my lipsss for I am the very mouthpieccce of Warlord Lewd. Ssslink back into the ssshadows and I will tell him not. Walk away and I will forget your inssssufferable insssolencce.”
“You only brought ten guards,” he frowned, “you disappoint me, Yessheeran.”
“Thisss iss your lassst chance, Ssshade, walk away.”
Shade took another sip of wine. “Tell you what, I’ll give you ten minutes to fetch twenty more men. Make it interesting.”
Yessheeran made a cutting gesture to his neck. “I’ve heard enough.”
The henchmen rushed Shade.
The Dark Elf disappeared suddenly.
They gasped. His stool appeared empty.
Shade withdrew a pair of shadow-cloaked blades without a sound. He leapt off the stool, handsprung backwards and slashed the throats of the two Doelms in midair. He landed and threw five invisible daggers in rapid succession that sunk into the necks of the four men and the last Doelm. He planted two more knives into the chests of the Drakor and back-flipped back to the bar. By the time the two dragon-men hit the floor, Shade was back in his seat. He reappeared and sat calmly sipping the rest of his wine, a boastful grin still dancing at the corners of his lips. ‘Pushovers,’ he thought in disgust.
Yessheeran blinked, dropped the dagger and looked around him in staggered shock. A chorus of alarmed whispers passed over the tavern. A few patrons ran for the door. The snake-man gaped about, his serpentine eyes wild with panic. He slinked towards the exit, but stumbled over the dead. He fell and hit the ground over and over again. He crawled and pulled his way over the piles of bodies, but finally made it out. And then he was gone, off to tattle to his master. Shade just hoped Lewd would finally get the message.
Shade smirked and took another sip of wine, “I told him he needed more guards.” He watched in dry amusement as the tavern emptied before his very eyes.
Shade sat alone in The Green Barrel, his only companion the sound of hard scrubbing and the occasional grunt of the fat barkeeper. He watched as Bwedrig’s brow dripped with sweat and his muscles twitched. He worked at the floor with his scrub-brush on his hands and knees. The Doelm plunged the brush into a vat of soapy red water, but he muttered no complaint. The Dark Elf had come to admire the Doelm’s tight-lipped work ethic. He showed his admiration by tossing bloodstone pieces into a pile of building coins on the bar in return for the extra drudgework and the loss of business.