Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain (13 page)

“Go!” she shouted, whirling towards their pursuers. Devinia broke into a run. Behind her, she heard the subtle sounds of knives slicing the air concluding in the thwack of them hitting home. She somehow made it across the brilliant beam of light without being hurt. She dove for the deepest shadow, trying to ignore the sounds of her mother crying out in pain. With tears streaming down her face, the young elf was swallowed up in the darkness.

She at first raced into the forest, but as the sounds of fighting behind her grew dim, she became fearful for her mother. She was a good assassin, but there were several trying to kill her. Devinia didn’t want to believe it was her own family trying to kill them. It had happened to houses before; a particular family in the bloodline brought shame to their line and had been cut off. Confused, Devinia reasoned that she had not yet begun her life in the family. Why should she be targeted?

She came back around, staying in shadowmeld until she got to the edge of the forest. In the plaza across the band of light cutting through the perpetual gloom of the forest, it seemed that the fight was already over. Ashrava was dropped to both knees, cut in several places. Devinia could see throwing knives embedded in her arms and legs, and by the way she labored to breathe she could tell there had been some kind of poison on them.

Of the assassins pursuing them, only two remained standing. The other four that had arrived, whether dead or just injured, lay strewn about the plaza.

One of the assassins held Ashrava by the hair, and the other leaned forward, resting her arm on her bent knee as she talked to Devinia’s mother face to face. In the stillness of the night, she could hear every word being spoken.            

“Oh, my poor Ashrava.”
The female said, sounding familiar. “You were warned, several times even, that your choices of contracts were sloppy. You didn’t even verify the last one was legitimate before taking it. You’ve fallen, girl.”

“Spare me your condescension, Matron.” Ashrava spat weakly. “I did what I had to...to support my family.”

“And look where that got them.” the female replied. “Your husband lies dead across the loom he loved more than you, and all your children have been found and eliminated, save the last.”

Ashrava stared hatefully back at the matron. “You have to follow every letter of the law, huh? You couldn’t just kill me and let my children go.”

“She doesn’t even grieve for her husband.” The female observed. Devinia felt another presence in the shadows around her, but it seemed just as interested in the event in the plaza.

“They will no longer target you if you are not a member of her family.” A voice whispered in Devinia’s ear. The words seemed to come from anywhere, and nowhere at the same time. “Then you could at least save yourself.”

“You know the law,” the matron said. “When a head of household falls into our ‘care’, we prune their immediate family from the great tree of their lineage. It is our way, and you have executed those same orders on half a dozen targets in your time.”

“If you want to live,” The voice whispered, “You need to go out there now.”

Devinia’s mind raced. Now that she wasn’t being forced to react and could actually think, things became clearer to her. Her mother, as aloof and distant as she had been the whole twenty years of her life, had been trying to protect her in some way. But she had also been making mistakes, doing sloppy work; and she must have done something deserving of her name being erased from the House of Nightsever.

If Devinia wanted to live, she had to not be Ashrava’s daughter. There was a way, but she didn’t know if they would hear her out before cutting her throat. It was her only chance; she didn’t think she would last long in the
Forest of Night Eternal without her mother to guide and teach her anyway.

Devinia withdrew from the shadows, stood straight and walked steadily out of the forest. She crossed into the line of light and took a breath before speaking.

“Wait!” she shouted, as Ashrava’s eyes widened in fear.

“No…” she murmured, unable to evoke motion from her poisoned limbs.

“Oh?” the matron mused. “The prey returns to us. Your daughter is too kind. Perhaps she is willing to accept the natural order of things, like she has been taught to.”

Devinia could see the tremble in her mother’s jaw, the fear in her eyes. She knew then that Ashrava had been trying to buy her as much time as possible to flee as far into the forest as she could; but that would not be the way that Devinia would survive.  If her mother had already accepted her death, then what she was about to do would suffice just as well.

“I, Devinia of the house of Nightsever, reject all ties and bonds of the bloodline!” She shouted, walking closer to the group. It was almost imperceptible, but she could see recognition cross both the eyes of her mother and the Matron of the Nightsever.

“And in so doing, lose claim to all benefits and requirements of the house.” Devinia spoke, repeating a speech that she had been taught in one of her classes, but modifying it to fit herself.
“And in so doing, lose my name and my fortune, becoming a lost seed amidst the trees of great houses.”

The matron seemed amused, her eyes indicating the smile she hid beneath her mask. “Clever.” She said in response. “I see your daughter is more cutthroat than you were.” She tapped the flat of her dagger against the side of her leg as she thought. “I do believe she did it right, but what if I don’t want to acknowledge it?”

Devinia felt like melting into a puddle and dying of terror, but she managed to reduce the reaction to a slight tremble in her hands.

“If you did that, you wouldn’t be following the laws both kings have set down.” Devinia replied, her defiant voice sounding small in the large plaza. “And then, since you weren’t following the law, then I guess you wouldn’t be so set on killing me too.”

The matron laughed. “Honest. Not fully cognizant of every possibility, but well thought out. Fine. I, the matron of the Nightsever house, will strip both your name and your belonging to my house if you agree to one condition.”

“What is the condition?”

“Would you do anything to survive the night?” the matron asked.

Devinia nodded. “Yes.” She replied.

The matron drew a long dagger and threw it. It bit, point first, into the soft grass in front of the girl. “Then you have only to cut all ties to your family. Permanently.”

Tension visibly slipped out of Ashrava’s body.

Devinia paled. “You want me to-”

“Do it, child.” Ashrava spoke.

“But…” Her daughter hesitated.

“This way you get to live!” Ashrava exclaimed as loudly as she could manage in her weakened state. “I am already lost, all that changes is the hand that holds the knife.”

Devinia plucked the dagger up and walked onto the plaza. She walked in front of her mother and knelt facing her. Her hand trembled so badly that it nearly rattled against the stone beneath her. She looked her mother in the eyes, hoping there was another chance. Maybe she could turn and cut the matron down, or maybe-

“It will be all right, child.” Ashrava said, her regal calm coming over her again. “You have much potential, and I did everything I could to help you grow. Just please… let me guard your life one last time.”

Devinia leaned into her mother, wrapping her left arm around her shoulder and neck in a final embrace. She sobbed, and tightened her grip on the dagger and touched the tip to her mother’s chest.

“Just a bit higher up, dear.”
Ashrava whispered, adjusting her aim. “You want to make every strike your best, and most importantly your first.”

Devinia let out one final sob, and plunged the dagger to the hilt. Her hand became hot and slick with blood. Ashrava let out a drawn out sigh and became still.

Devinia held onto her mother for several seconds, crying. Shortly, the matron pulled the two apart. Ashrava’s body lay on her back, the dagger protruding from her breast.

“A perfect strike to the heart.”
The matron said bemusedly. “There’s truth in the saying that no one can cut you to the quick like your family can.”

Devinia only stared up at the matron with her vision blurred in tears. Drawing in a ragged breath, she stood. Her legs and arm were splattered copiously with her mother’s blood.

“You did everything I asked. You get to live.” The matron replied. “Go forth, lost seed. And may fortune find you a place to take root.”

The three assassins collected their lost or unconscious comrades and departed, leaving the now nameless girl standing over the body of her dead mother. The dagger was sticking out from her mother’s chest like a grave marker.

It was a strange sensation, killing. She stared down at her bloody hands in shock and tried wiping them on her shirt and pants.

“You did well.” The voice replied, coming from below her. She looked down and saw a female rising out of her shadow. She jumped back as another assassin appeared before her. This one had no mask, and the dagger mark buckles on her leathers marked her as an agent of the Poisonblades. The elf’s hair was similar to her mother’s, but her eyes were slanted just enough to seem naturally cruel. Her lips were a cruel slash that found frowning easier than smiling.

“I was quite surprised you managed to make your first kill, and only at twenty?” the assassin whistled, dropping to one knee and touching the girl’s chin. “That’s like a human child of ten proving to have more mettle than most of the adults. I see you have the eyes, and the potential. I think they were fools to put you on the kill list. You would be much more useful as an assassin instead of victim.”

“I…” The now nameless girl started. “I have nowhere to go. I… I could work for another house.” She tried to reason.

The assassin clicked her tongue. “That’s not so simple, young one. You see, you’re too young to join. Your body isn’t developed; they would not train you until your growth comes to an end.”

“So what do I do?” The girl asked.

The assassin pulled the knife from the cooling corpse and pushed it into the girl’s hands. “You survive.” She said, the blade feeling a thousand times heavier than it should. “And if you are still alive and fully grown in exactly six years from now, I will personally bring you before our matron, Pieranelle. Then you will have the chance to prove yourself to us.”

“Six years.” The nameless girl said. “I… don’t know where to start.”

“If you can survive the first few days, you’ll have it about figured out.” The assassin replied, turning and striding away. “I’ll be here in six years from suns down to suns rise. If you can show up, show me that dagger.”

With that, the assassin slipped into the shadows and was gone. The girl looked down at the dagger and wiped at the tears in her eyes, only managing to smear her face with drying blood. She realized that she looked a mess. She pushed the death of her family out of her mind. Her grief wouldn’t help her survive alone, surrounded by elves who would consider her the least amongst their kind until she either started her own bloodline or was accepted into a new house.

First thing’s first. She needed to get cleaned up. After that, she could take stock of her situation and try planning from there.

Before she left, she checked her mother’s body. She was able to retrieve half a dozen blades of varying sizes, one vial of poison and four throwing knives. There were sheaths for a dozen, but the blades must have been thrown out of sight or were still in the bodies of the females the Nightsever matron had retrieved.

She turned to flee, and spotted her mother’s discarded pack. Though the clothes wouldn’t fit, there were valuable supplies that could help her the first few days.

She looked at her mother in the plaza as she stood at the entrance. She had arranged the body so that she looked at rest, if you could ignore the blood and the signs of violence all over the area. In time, a few elves
who pursued cleanliness and burial rituals would arrive to make the plaza serviceable to the normal elven citizens passing through.

She considered what it was she could do. She knew a bit about both her mother and her father’s work. However, she quickly discarded weaving. It was then she decided. Leave silks to another elf. She would become an assassin like her mother. She would become one of the best
assassins known to Salthimere. She would build up power, money, and influence. And when she did, she would break from the Poisonblades and form her own house. House Ashrava.

But for now, she would need to find a way to survive in Salthimere without any of the resources available to an average elven child. She would make it work, though. She didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t going to let her mother’s death be in vain.

Chapter: 02

She didn’t go back to her mother’s house. She would have been seen as a thief and imprisoned. She no longer had any right to the clothes or food in there, not even the small things she'd played with as a baby. She had no money, no supplies and no prospects. She had nowhere to go, and spent most of the night trying to find somewhere she could be safe.

She instead found a place underneath one of the parks that littered the city. It was a secret place underground, long since forgotten by the elves that had originally used it as storage for the workers digging out the sewage system that kept the city clean. She couldn’t hide in the sewers themselves; water elemental custodians swept the tunnels daily, clearing out rats and refuse alike.

She was fortunate, though, to have been sleeping near one of the drains when she found out this fact, otherwise she would have been drowned that first night. Instead, sputtering and soaked, she'd picked herself up and observed the tunnel. She dozed as best she could while soaking wet and cold, waiting, taking mark of the time by the passage of the moons. She was awakened when water surged down the tunnel and she was drenched again.

Rolling out of the stream of water, she checked the night’s passage. Two hours had passed. She dragged herself to her feet and climbed into the tunnel. With her eyes, she could always see in the dark, so she was able to keep her footing and avoid running into objects or pitfalls. It was the one thing that could help keep her alive.

She managed to find the storage room only forty minutes into the tunnels. The locked door, however, took her another hour to figure out how to open. She’d never been taught anything about lock construction or how to pick them, even though her mother had surely been able to do it. Instead, she searched through her mother’s survival pack, found the lock picks, and nearly broke all of them trying to get the door open. She could hear water gurgling in the tunnels when she finally got the door open. She slipped inside, pushing the door closed.

Searching the room, it proved to be old and partially full of rotting storage containers. They looked to have dried out and fallen to splinters instead of rotting away in moisture. She figured then she would be safe from the water.

She set her packs down, and took stock of the room. There were no signs of pests, and a quick examination showed the boxes were empty of everything but dust. She sorted out the broken boxes over the ones that were mostly intact. Thinking, she stacked the most intact ones a few feet away from the back wall, and then piled the crumbling and broken ones around the front of those.
If it worked out like she planned, she would have a place to sleep that wouldn’t be noticed under casual observation.

She dumped out her packs in her makeshift shelter and set things out with shaking hands. Though she knew she would have to be careful and plan her next moves, she was too tired and too cold to think beyond the immediate moment. She couldn’t even hold the matron’s dagger without it rattling. She found two changes of clothes in her pack, and two in her mother's.

While she didn’t fit in her mother's clothes, they were sufficient enough to roll up into a pillow. She didn’t find anything else to bed on; everything in the pack, other than the clothes, was either hard or sharp. She used the empty packs to lie on, and draped the extra clothes over her. Though it was uncomfortable, she was too tired to care.

As she was drifting off, sounds arose from the tunnel beyond the chamber. Water gurgled along the door, but didn’t leak inside. The elementals given the task of keeping the sewers clean and running followed the orders of their summoners to the letter. They did precisely what they were commanded to, nothing more and nothing less.

As she started drifting back off to sleep, she thought that she would need to make a name for herself. Hells, before she could do that, she would have to pick the name.

That night, she dreamed. She relived murdering her own mother several times, each dream drawing out the moment with lingering malice. Every time, she could see the twisted pleasure the matron had felt when she did it. The female not only got to complete the contract, but she also got to see a daughter turn on her mother in a heartless attempt to survive.

She dreamed of pain and darkness, and the last words of her mother which ran through her head.

“You want to make every strike your best, and most importantly
your first.” She had told her. She was going to make that her motto. Her first strike would be her best. She would make her first strike perfect, an attack that would steal the life from anyone who got in her way.

And she would find the matron of the Nightsever house again when she had perfected it and show her just what a perfect strike it was.
Personally.

She awoke not knowing how much time had passed. She dozed for several more minutes until she heard the gurgle of water rushing by the door again. She realized that she would have to leave soon or risk getting caught in the tunnels when it came back.

Rising, she changed into one of her sets of clean clothing. She would have to find a way to live, and she was going to have to start now.

She thought back to the dreams, which remained in stark clarity in her mind. Her hands no longer trembled. She had been emotionally torn, but she was throwing that part of herself away. She wouldn’t become attached to anyone ever again; it was a vulnerability that too many Sha’hdi indulged in and she could not afford to be weak. She had to be hard-hearted.

“Hard-Hearted.” She whispered. “
Yin Jalah.”

“Devinia died the night her mother died.” She declared. “But until I gain a new name, I will remain Devinia.”

* * * *

Days passed, and survival was at first hard. There was a learning curve that was punishing and cruel. While she could walk around the streets, word had passed that she was a lost seed, no longer Devinia, and no backing of any house. She was only given the barest modicum of respect, even by the kindest of the Sha’hdi. Charity, she learned, was not a trait the moon elves cultivated.

She learned quickly that she would need to steal in order to survive. It wasn’t even hard for her; she only had to wait for her stomach to growl at her to motivate her to larceny. Though her practice with shadowmeld and her eyes allowed her some advantage, she had to be cautious. About one in every twelve Sha’hdi had been born with the eyes, but it was easier for them to spot her uses of shadow magic.

So she practiced, learned every route she could use to flee, and even spent hours observing the elves selling their wares out in the market to learn who the easiest marks were. It was surprisingly difficult; the Sha’hdi weren’t trusting by nature, and a small degree of paranoia was considered a healthy mental attitude. Still, she was lucky and survived the first few days without getting caught. She looked upon every chance as an opportunity to hone her skills.

She sneaked off with whatever goods she could acquire for herself. Blankets, clothing, even some cookware she salvaged from a house that was closed down awaiting a treeshaper to repair root rot. She kept her things in the room off the sewer, and had finally made her home somewhat comfortable. At least, it was comfortable enough that she could sleep without freezing half to death in the night.

Once she had mastered feeding herself, she focused her attention on making coin. That was the hard part. No one wanted to trust a lost seed with any work but menial labor, and because of her age she wasn’t even able to do that. She was still growing, and had none of the strength or great reflexes she would need to work.

So instead, she went looking for others like herself. She had seen a few lost seeds in her younger years, but had dismissed them as easily as she was now being dismissed. It made her bitter now, knowing that she had contributed to the very condition that was now affecting her.

She managed to get lucky three weeks after she adopted her new name. A pair of brothers was working a street corner passing out flyers for a nearby bakery and she approached them directly once she realized they were lost seeds.

“Good day.” She greeted them, standing out of the way of foot traffic. The closest brother to her looked her up and down. His eyes were blue, and his hair dark ashen gray like his brother.

“Go away, child.” The elf said, though he was hardly a decade older than her. “Where’s your mother?”

“Dead.” She replied. “Where’s yours?”

“Same.” He replied, “You should go home before we lost seeds eat you up.”

Devinia felt an irritated twinge in her cheek. “Too late for that.” She replied. “I’m a lost seed too.”

The elf looked her over again. “You must be crazy then.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re too young.
You’re not even fully grown yet. How could you hope to make a life for yourself without the help of a family line if you can’t even work?”

Devinia shrugged. “I’ve been able to take what I need when it comes down to it.” She replied mutedly. “I’m small for now, but I was thinking that maybe-”

“No.” the other elf replied, smiling and handing a flyer to a passing elf. “Whatever you’re about to ask us, the answer is no. We have a hard enough time taking care of each other.”

Devinia wasn’t about to let it stop her. “Then just give me some tips then!” she offered. “I could be of use in exchange.”

The second elf glanced at her with sharp, gray eyes. “Sorry, girl.” He replied. “You don’t have anything we’re interested in. Come back when you’re grown up. Then maybe you can stay with us.”

Devinia held back a scowl. She realized what he was implying. She wasn’t going to whore herself out to survive, but rapidly the possibilities dawned on her. Elf or not, most males were susceptible to certain charms. She gave him a half smile. “Yeah sure, that won’t happen ever.” She said, a bit of bite cutting into her voice.

“Then piss off, girl.” He replied. They continued working, and Devinia made a show of walking away in a huff. She would have to find out what she wanted the hard way.

Hours passed, and the two elves finished working. They were paid a paltry fee for their time and sent away with the coin and a package of bloodwine bread that had been left over from the sale.

As they walked down the streets, they were unaware they had a follower. Devinia remained melded in the shadows, slinking along the sides of the roads where the glow of the suns above and the hanging crystal lights provided the deepest shadow. She could feel others passing by her, similarly melded into the shadows, but it was only a vague awareness of presence coming and going, and no particular one would linger for more than a split second before moving on.

The two quickly made their way to the lower cost areas of the city. Though the trees had been crafted to be the same size as most housing, they were segregated by floor, and external landings allowed a resident to live on their single floor. Devinia bitterly remembered the amount of space she had enjoyed as a child, where her family home had several floors.

She waited until they opened the door to their room. She then pulled a trick she had seen only once before. She jumped from shadow to shadow, landing inside the shadow of the first brother. She moved with him as he walked, and she realized how hard the act was; the assassin who had offered to recruit her had done it effortlessly. It had seemed easy, but managing straying out from under his shadow all while trying to anticipate the direction he was walking was far harder than it looked.

The two closed up the door and spoke the command word to raise the lighting. Neither of them had the eyes and couldn’t see her in the shadows.

The home was small: the front room which was the living room and kitchen combined. Barely furnished, the home definitely looked lived in, but had very little in the way of personal effects. The blue-eyed elf set the bread down and turned to his brother.

“You can take the first bath, brother.” He said
, rummaging through the sparse supplies he had to cook with.

Devinia waited until they were separated to move. She rose out of the shadow behind the first brother. She never went anywhere without the dagger she took from her mother’s body, and she quietly drew it. He stood from leaning over the counter, and stiffened. She could tell he knew something was amiss and struck quickly.

The pommel of the dagger impacted the side of his head as he turned suddenly. He was too late to defend himself, and with a sickening crack he dropped to the floor, blood trickling down the side of his face. Devinia froze, her ears straining to pick up any other sounds.

Apparently, she had hit him hard enough to knock him out. As much as she wanted to feel ready to, she couldn’t push herself to kill again. It wasn’t time yet, and she had no reason to kill them. She only needed to learn any tricks they had.

“Y-you!” the other brother stammered from the door into the other room. He was only in his pants, startled while he had been preparing for a bath. He saw the dagger in her hands, and his face paled as he recognized the symbols on the blade. “You’re an assassin?” he asked, trying to figure out whether to run for the door or to lock himself in the bedroom and hope she couldn’t get in.

Devinia looked down at the blade, then back up at the elf. “An assassin?” she asked, partially to herself. “Not today. You two will live, but I will not allow your stubbornness to stop me from moving up in the world.” She pointed the dagger at him. “You will tell me what I need to know or I will end you!” she exclaimed, putting every bit of menace she could in her voice, hoping to hide how scared she was inside.