Shade squinted smugly as the very din on the streets died down to a low murmur. Every eye followed the deadly Dark Elf. Harlots calling down to men from porches and balconies offering warm beds and hot bodies, stilled to quiet purrs at his passing. A group of merrymakers rounded a corner roaring a drunken song. They laid eyes on Shade and turned back. Even the hardest warriors held their breath and thieves shrunk back into the alleys, but it was not just men who feared him.
Shade saw the dim glowing yellow eyes of a Doelm runt staring at him from an alleyway. The Dark Elf’s piercing night vision could see the Doelm down to the finely tuned details. The runt had dark indigo skin and a fierce warlike face. His long black matted hair rested on his butcher’s apron. His massive heaving chest had been scarred with self-inflicted claw marks, evidence of his tribal upbringing. Thick tufts of hair grew down his beefy back and all the way down the length of his arms. His fist was clenched, but the assassin could discern the runt’s long black fingernails capable of goring out the inside of a man’s chest.
Jile was the only town in all Covent where Doelms lived freely among men. Most of them were runaway slaves, not much taller than five-feet, runts by the standards of their race. They were the kind that would not last two seconds in the Kurn underworld, the kind that would be branded nothing but grueling laborers back in their own black country, but Shade knew better than to underestimate even these stunted Doelms. What these runts lacked in height, they more than made up in girth and the brutal savagery common to their race. Shade had seen more than one Doelm runt tear a boastful man limb from limb nearly twice his size in a drunken scuffle.
Shade chuckled as the runt averted his gaze, a sign of submission. The assassin drunk in the Doelm’s respect, a silent toast passing between two of night’s most savage sons. Dark Elves were feared the world over, heralding from the black forests of Jui-Sae, though seldom seen outside its dark borders. Nor were such borders seldom violated. Jui-Sae, Forest of Darkness. The mere utterance of its name roused in other races nightmarish visions of a black forest littered with the bones of a thousand butchered trespassers. The Unseen guarded Jui-Sae. Anyone who crossed into Jui-Sae held their breaths, eyes searching wildly for these infamous invisible assassins. Death came suddenly and without warning.
Shade too had been trained in the ranks of the Unseen, but living in the outside world had helped him come to understand that his people could wield as much power in seen form as unseen. He knew all too well how to twist the deadly legends of his people to his advantage. He had found early in his career that merely casting off his hood and revealing his dark heritage could tip the outcome of a deadlock into his favor. Shade used to relish the moment when a worthy adversary blinked in stunted recognition and the Dark Elf seized the opening to deliver a killing blow. But he no longer needed such trifling advantages. He couldn’t remember the last time he had the privilege of facing a worthy foe.
The assassin hurried down the street. He heard a loud crunch of snow behind him. Then another footstep and still another...as if someone were trying to shadow his steps, but failing miserably. He was being followed. He pressed on. Whoever tracked him was clumsy and heavy-footed. They were certainly not the stealthy footfalls of a Shaltearan Assassin. That at least might give him due cause for concern.
Wood splintered and cracked. Shade’s head snapped in the direction of the noise. His hands found his blade hilts.
Two bodies tumbled down the stairs of The Pig’s Trough eat house. A pair of fiery red-haired Braznian warriors rolled around in a snowdrift swapping punches in a drunken brawl. The assassin exhaled in relief. It was rumored that Braznian men feared nothing; that they looked death in the face and laughed. Funny. Shade had never found much credence in the rumor, not in Jile, not since he had personally castrated the first few who had dared press their luck. Braznian eunuchs weren’t very popular among the ladies.
Shade stopped, glaring in annoyance.
The men froze. Their scarred features turned white with horror when they recognized the legendary assassin and the unfortunate fact that they now blocked his path through the street. In fact, they inconvenienced him so much that he would be forced to take an entire step or two around them.
“Shade!” said the bearded Braznian, “We ah, didn’t realize it was you.” He rolled off the other man and the two warriors backed awkwardly away.
“Sorry,” the other man mumbled through punch-swollen lips, “won’t happen again.”
Shade merely glared at them.
The warriors continued to stumble backward, tripping over their own feet. They neared the alley, cautiously turned their backs and rounded the corner. He heard their boots banging nosily as they clamored down the alleyway; their frightened curses ringing clearly in the chill night air.
Shade breathed deeply. He reveled in his power here. This was his town. Not even the world renowned assassins of the Shaltearan Brotherhood dared stake a claim in Jile. Assassins rarely encroached on each other’s territory except on business. Business, of course, should never be another assassin, though it happened on a rare moon. Kills were always supposed to be professional, impersonal…the hired killer no more than the instrument of death than say the dagger that did the taking. Personal feuds were left to the victims and paying customers. No kill had been personal to Shade, not since he left Jui-Sae.
Naturally, that didn’t stop a certain number of ugly reprisal jobs from arising and so Shade always kept two eyes open. He didn’t mind. He usually found the retaliation amusing. Besides hot-blooded revenge always paid better gold. It had been some time since Shade’s life was threatened. He almost wished for a bereaved loved one to send someone after him or perhaps another assassin to try and move in on his territory. It had been too long since he had a sincere worry in this town and Shade grew bored.
Shade turned off the main street under an unlit street lantern that creaked in the wind and headed down another road heading west. Sober men and half-breeds hurried out of his way, but drunken and less sensible men staggered through the gray slush streets. This street was also filled with taverns, brothels and old shops, though the buildings ran east-west. An old drunkard lay passed out in the snow. No one stopped to help him, nor did Shade. The old man would be dead by morning.
The Dark Elf shook his head in disgust. Men were slaves to such vices. Only through strength of will, relentless discipline, and self-conditioning could one achieve true greatness. Men who never realized this truth received the due penalty for their inexcusable weakness. Shade left the man to die without a second thought. He had spent many years among humans and he understood them all too well. It never ceased to amaze him how many colossal fools plagued Doljinaar’s proud streets.
Shade’s own people would never have stomached such behavior. Although Dark Elves shared men’s fond love for drinking and Jui-Sae was known for the finest dark wines in the world, drunkenness and gluttony were strictly forbidden. His people embraced the sampling of fine food and drink, but prized temperance in all things. To allow one’s body to be ruled by any physical need was to allow that need to master you. Stealing even a loaf of bread was a crime punishable by death.
Trade with the outside world was also forbidden in Jui-Sae. While Doljinaar’s greatest strengths grew through its allegiances (and Shade would argue many of its greatest weaknesses), Jui-Sae’s strength was found in self-reliance. Dark Elves needed no one but themselves, just as Shade shed even his need for his people decades ago. He only missed the occasional bottle of fine Dark Red Oliverian Wine, fresh off the summer vines of Jui-Sae. He had managed to locate a bottle or two on the black markets of Kurn, but even that was a rare luxury he had learned to do without.