Tower Gardelle

2: YOU CANNOT ESCAPE FATE

Aritemes ran his hands along the sides of his door. His fingers examined each notch, each bump, each bruise in the wood. When he concentrated, he could feel the magic that pulsated inside of it. For some strange reason, though, what magic it was alluded him. With a frustrated sigh, Aritemes banged his head against the door.

"It's no use, Master! The magic in here is too elusive," he complained. Each word was smooth, and said in a singing manner. "Thou must find someone else for this."

"Why?" the old woman asked, leaning on a cane made of the fairest oak. The wood ended before the tip, replaced by an iron cap perfect for bashing in skulls.

"The magic-"

She laughed harshly, her voice like hard bark. "The magic controls you?"

Aritemes scowled, "Naught, that cannot be. It is merely too elusive for one such as myself. My talents belong in far more useful tasks." The assassin ran a hand through his black hair, nails that were mostly bitten down scratching at the base of his tanned neck. A dagger with the Partrall crest lie at his hip, the blade thin and sharp. "What use is it for I to learn this magic, Master Arabelle?"

Arabelle swung the cane towards him, hitting him hard in the ribs. As he gasped and held his side painfully, she gave him a sharp look. "An assassin cannot be let off his guard. The magic here could make thou fall asleep, it could weaken you, or it could kill. What use would a weakened, unconscious, or dead assassin be to me? If thou wish to die go from my presence. There are always others who are just...dying to take your place." She laughed smugly, waving her hands to him. "Go, go."

"I am willing to learn, Master," he told her quietly. He dared not let any of his emotions fall into his words, lest she completely deem him worthless. "Teach me as you wish."

"No, no, thou wanted to complain."

"I will do whatever you want, Master Arabelle." He bent on his knees before her, head bowed and eyes on her sandal-clad feet. "Do what you must, I will be as obedient as a servant and as diligent as a soldier. Thou shall only hear me when I am to be heard, and only see me when you have commanded I be seen."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Master Arabelle. I am yours to train."

"Then get off your knees, Aritemes, and stand, you ungrateful rat. In three hours you are to return to me with eight bowls of sap and Went's Berry from Folly Wild. If you're late you will no longer be my apprentice."

He stood, gave her a nod, and quickly collected eight bowls from her desk before running out of the room. No sound came from either him or his feet other than the dullest of thuds against the ground as he ran. Outside, he weaved through the city, knowing that he'd have to go through almost half of Partrall before he could make it outside and on his way to Folly Wild. It was raining heavily still, and the occasional boom of thunder could be heard. His light came from the houses alongside the road, perfectly built to be in rows of one thousand houses each, and from the lightning that took over the sky. He groaned to himself as he realized that he didn't get to pull on his cloak. There he ran, in his breeches, boots, and over shirt, not even a hat upon his head, through the city. Children waved and laughed at him alike as he passed them playing in the rain. Aritemes paid them no mind, knowing that he's probably the most interesting thing they've seen in the past few days.

As he left the city, the world around him changed from gray and yellow to dark green. The grass was tall, and he followed the trails that animals had left to avoid scratching his clothes or having them covered with grasses. The bowls were awkward, and half were filled with water, but he continued to keep them in his arms until he passed under the first tree. Once in, hardly any rain fell on him other than a light shower. The dense body of trees, bushes, and flowers huddled around him as he poured out the water on the roots of a giant tree.