Eros

Hail to the King - 1

Must be horrible, to die like this. Caerus mused, his dagger ripping through the guard's neck. He will never know who killed him or why. Only that one moment he was alive, patrolling as usual, and in the next he was on the floor, choking on his own blood.

No fight, no protest, no chance. One swift stab, and a man like any other - with hopes, dreams, friends, and family - becomes a meaningless lump of flesh. Shattering the fragility of life always gave Caerus a cold, empty feeling.

But nothing silenced the cries of a hurting conscious better than gold. With tonight's pay, he'll have the gold to silence it for a lifetime.

Caerus finished wiping his dagger on the guard's gold and red tabard, and left the corpse on the road. Next change of shifts in this section of the royal gardens was at dawn. He'd be long gone by then.

His eyes sized the palace's tallest tower as he approached it. Twelve floors of sandy rock split the sky overhead, with a dome of gold that gleamed alongside the stars. A single, wide-arched balcony beaconed him to the top.

Caerus tucked his dagger in its sheath, and fastened on pitch-smeared gloves.

One last kill. He promised, and leapt on the tower.

His fingers and toes scraped over large blocks of sandy stone, finding holds in the creaks of mortar between them.

His body moved upon years of training, limbs bunching and stretching like a spider's, darting from one hold to the next. Shrouded by the night and his black cloak, he was but a shadow ascending through the darkness.

His skin soon soaked with sweat, his chest heaved, and his muscles strained. But adrenaline thumped his heart like a drum, and his eyes wouldn't budge from the top.

Desert wind tugged at his hood. The gold dome neared, the balcony passed beside him, and the window above winked at him like a pretty girl. Caerus reached to its ledge, caught his breath, and peered through the glass.

A man sat at ease on the marble throne within. With hair like golden silk, and fine, smooth features, he looked more like a beautiful boy than a menacing monarch. His tattoo sprawled sheer black over lean muscles and sun-kissed skin. An eye across his chest, lidless, veined, and watching. Two monstrous hands rose from it, clutching his shoulders with wicked talons.

A woman was on her knees before him, bare body tantalizing with a bronze tan and lush curves. Her fingers kneaded in his naked thighs as she bobbed her head between them, sucking with the earnest dedication.

Caerus grinned. How lucky was he, to catch Julian, the unkillable king of Veramor, with his pants down.

Caerus grabbed a brick beside him and lowered himself to the balcony's railing. He threw back his cloak and drew his loaded crossbow from its straps. His soft-leather moccasins made no sound as Caerus jumped from the railing and padded to the balcony's veils.

He brushed a thin gap where their rims overlapped and aligned his crossbow's sights. Fitting the iron scope around the king's head, Caerus met his fierce amber eyes.

Julian was glaring at him.

Caerus squeezed the trigger.

The string twang, the crossbow jolted, and the bolt soared. Caerus watched it whirr across the room, and snap against the air before the king.

The woman screamed and scampered. Julian did not even flinch. Rage seethed in his eyes, and he yelled. "Who dares send a fucking Rat to my chambers?"

With the echo of his voice, his hands heaved off the throne, fingers arching into claws. Caerus saw nothing coming.

The veils billowed out beside him, and two sets of massive claws thrust into his body. He flailed in panic, and hit something solid in the thin air.

A sudden pull seared like fire in his pierced flesh, plucking him off the floor. He dangled high in front of Julian, his struggling only widening his wounds. His own screaming rang dull in his own ears.

"Tell me who sent you, and I will end your misery." Julian tensed his grasp at nothing, and the invisible claws clenched in Cearus' body, lacerating flesh and grinding bone.

Caerus writhed like a headless worm. Years of discipline for silence couldn't match up with the pain.

"Bladeweaver!" He managed to pronounce the name in an agonized wail.

"I see." Julian sneered, then pulled his hands apart.

Caerus's flesh stretched into a web-work of raw strings before it tore. His ribs and spine snapped like chicken bones. In a spring of guts and blood, his body split and launched apart, its two halves flying to slap against opposite walls.

"That was fun." Abomination whispered in Julian's mind, a dark voice crackling with power and malice. Julian picked up his golden goblet, and emptied it from wine. He looked down to find the girl cowering behind the arm of his throne.

"Let's kill her too. Feel her soft little body crunch in our hands."

"Go fetch the High Magus." Julian ignored Abomination, waving her towards the door. "And some servants for this mess."