The Elven Age: Book 1 Joining

Chapter 8-The Black City

Draken

The Black City was quiet as usual. The sky was its usual dark grey, with little light passing through. Draken was on his horse, with the rest of the slaves behind him. The bodies that were hanging from the black towers were intimidating the slaves, and they should. Draken couldn’t stomach the site, so he would usually avoid looking entirely. The smell of the black city was foul and reeked of death, which it should. He arrived by the castle. It was pure black, made of some strange metal. It jutted out of the ground and into the sky. It was spiked at the top, which gave it an odd shape.

The Master came out, garbed in his black robes. His black pupils scanned Draken and the slaves behind him. The dark veins under his eyes had become more pronounced than when Draken left.

“You’re late.”

“I had a minor setback”, said Draken

“I can see that”, replied the master inspecting the slaves.

“Enter the Tower and a guard shall lead you to the resting quarters. You are in our care now, and we will treat you with the highest respect”

“You shouldn’t lie to them”, said Draken.

“Be thankful I don’t whip you for being late”

Draken knew that “safe” wasn’t what they were going to get, but at least they would have a roof over their heads.

Draken inspected the slavers and to his shock realized Catherine wasn’t there. He searched and searched, but she had just vanished. How could he have let her slip through his finger? One of the greatest assassins there was let a slave girl escape him.

Draken went to the master to explain what memory he had retrieved from the Lord.

“So did you discover anything important?”

“Well actually my lord-“

A guard cut into the room and shouted, “My lord the soldiers are fighting”

“Well stop them then, and if they resist kill them”

The soldier nodded and ran back out.

“Now, what were you saying Draken”

Soldiers, why were they training soldiers and not assassins? Then the pieces began fitting together perfectly. The lord wanted Draken to fetch information on the High elves army to find the perfect opening to attack. Draken couldn’t hand over this information, thousands would die.

“Sadly I was unable to retrieve find anything of use in the lords mind”

“So not only were you late, but also empty handed. I am really beginning to think about lashing you, you insolent child. Now get out of here before I pull out the whip.”

The lord knew Draken was lying, he could feel it as the lord stared at him leave the room. He went to the forges to sharpen his dagger.

That bitch kept my dagger, thought Draken.

Catherine had taken one of his two black daggers. It didn’t matter much, he only needed one anyway, but it was still a bother.

He went back to the master’s room, he overheard voices, quiet, but they were there. He made sure to make as little noise as possible.

“Are you sure he suspects nothing?” said the lord

“Aye my lord”, the voice was feminine, familiar.

“Good, what should we do with him?” said the girl.

“We kill him, he suspects too much and he knows too much of us”

“As you wish my lord”

He heard kissing and soon realized the girl was making out with the master.

“Where would I be without you, my sweet, sweet Catherine?”’ said the master.

“Master perhaps we should dispose of the one who is spying on us”

The door quickly opened and Catherine stood there. Her black hair tied back to reveal her pointed ears. She was wearing the typical assassins leather armor. She pulled out the black dagger and plunged it straight through Draken’s chest. Killed by his own blade, how poetic. She turned the blade, causing him excruciating pain. He fell to the ground and attempted to move it, but it was no use it scraped against his heart each time he moved it.

“I am truly sorry about this Draken”, she said, her voice now cunning and deceptive.

“I’m sure you are”, he mumbled.

The blood kept flowing, creating a puddle of dark crimson blood around him. Of all the ways he thought he would die, he always thought it would be while fighting, and not stabbed through the back, or stomach in his case. A bright white light illuminated in front of him, this was it, he was going to die….