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literally standing just above his face.
*****
Mordal eyed the far bank momentarily, looking for any sign of movement in the darkness. His blessed vision showed no sign of the messenger upon the other bank. Mordal’s blessing was unique he presumed, and it had been the difference between success and failure more times than he could count. The ability to see things clearly at a distance allowed him to see details that to another assassin would be obscure. The unnatural tautness that overcame his muscles while awash in his blessing allowed him to react faster, move faster, dodge faster and even strike harder. Those two enhancements were enough to bring down most of his targets, but his ability to see the world by the heat contained within objects was the most useful at night.
This night was a perfect example, Mordal thought, as he looked to the water flowing just beyond his toes. Though the vast majority of the water appeared a dark hue of purple in his vision, a streak flowed from just beneath him of a slightly lighter hue, meaning something down there was warming the water around it as it flowed past. Smiling to himself, Mordal reached into his belt and removed another gnomish weapon he was very fond of. It appeared to be a spear except for the fact that it was only half as long as his arm. However, with a click of a catch and a flick of the wrist, the shaft extended as section after section of steel tubing with an ever smaller diameter slid out from the larger one behind it with a series of clicks. Now the spear was as long as he was tall. Grabbing its shaft with both hands, Mordal raised his arms and drove the spear down with all his might through the soil between his boots and several feet down below the surface of the ground.
*****
Darion remained unmoving for what felt like forever, his lungs tightening in his chest, his body silently screaming for more air. He knew he would not be able to remain this way much longer and wondered what exactly his attacker was doing simply standing there on the bank. Panic threatened again and again to overcome him as the warmth leached from his body and his lungs felt as if they might explode. But even when his vision began to blur, he waited a few more seconds before he finally dared to take another breath. Slowly, more slowly than what his body cried for, Darion took a breath. Little did he know it would be his last. For just as soon as Darion had filled his lungs to capacity, he was struck unexpectedly. Though no matter how vicious the attack was, Darion felt as the blade thrust into his mouth, splitting his tongue in two before plunging out the back of his skull above his neck and then driving on down through his spine and into his vital internal organs. So swift was the strike that to Darion that final moment seemed to slow, allowing him to feel each new agonizing pain individually before the shaft of the weapon was extruded from his body, releasing vast amounts of blood from each of the wounds. As the weapon was removed from his body with a jerk and a twist, Darion, his face now below the icy waters, released his last breath in a gurgle of his own blood in an attempt to scream before his eyes rolled back and the world was lost to him.
*****
Mordal chuckled as he pulled the boy’s ruined body just far enough out of the water to remove anything of value. Taking the boy’s medallion, coin purse and dagger, the assassin then shoved the boy back into the water with his boot. Finally his mission to Valdadore was showing some promise. This messenger had more coin than some minor lords Mordal had brought to their end in his homeland. Mordal could not help but grin at his luck as he turned to regain his mount. This was going to be a lucrative venture, Mordal thought as he climbed back into his saddle, guiding the stallion to resume in their original direction.
Chapter 2
Reunited Family and Restored Glory
Morning was quickly
*****
Mordal eyed the far bank momentarily, looking for any sign of movement in the darkness. His blessed vision showed no sign of the messenger upon the other bank. Mordal’s blessing was unique he presumed, and it had been the difference between success and failure more times than he could count. The ability to see things clearly at a distance allowed him to see details that to another assassin would be obscure. The unnatural tautness that overcame his muscles while awash in his blessing allowed him to react faster, move faster, dodge faster and even strike harder. Those two enhancements were enough to bring down most of his targets, but his ability to see the world by the heat contained within objects was the most useful at night.
This night was a perfect example, Mordal thought, as he looked to the water flowing just beyond his toes. Though the vast majority of the water appeared a dark hue of purple in his vision, a streak flowed from just beneath him of a slightly lighter hue, meaning something down there was warming the water around it as it flowed past. Smiling to himself, Mordal reached into his belt and removed another gnomish weapon he was very fond of. It appeared to be a spear except for the fact that it was only half as long as his arm. However, with a click of a catch and a flick of the wrist, the shaft extended as section after section of steel tubing with an ever smaller diameter slid out from the larger one behind it with a series of clicks. Now the spear was as long as he was tall. Grabbing its shaft with both hands, Mordal raised his arms and drove the spear down with all his might through the soil between his boots and several feet down below the surface of the ground.
*****
Darion remained unmoving for what felt like forever, his lungs tightening in his chest, his body silently screaming for more air. He knew he would not be able to remain this way much longer and wondered what exactly his attacker was doing simply standing there on the bank. Panic threatened again and again to overcome him as the warmth leached from his body and his lungs felt as if they might explode. But even when his vision began to blur, he waited a few more seconds before he finally dared to take another breath. Slowly, more slowly than what his body cried for, Darion took a breath. Little did he know it would be his last. For just as soon as Darion had filled his lungs to capacity, he was struck unexpectedly. Though no matter how vicious the attack was, Darion felt as the blade thrust into his mouth, splitting his tongue in two before plunging out the back of his skull above his neck and then driving on down through his spine and into his vital internal organs. So swift was the strike that to Darion that final moment seemed to slow, allowing him to feel each new agonizing pain individually before the shaft of the weapon was extruded from his body, releasing vast amounts of blood from each of the wounds. As the weapon was removed from his body with a jerk and a twist, Darion, his face now below the icy waters, released his last breath in a gurgle of his own blood in an attempt to scream before his eyes rolled back and the world was lost to him.
*****
Mordal chuckled as he pulled the boy’s ruined body just far enough out of the water to remove anything of value. Taking the boy’s medallion, coin purse and dagger, the assassin then shoved the boy back into the water with his boot. Finally his mission to Valdadore was showing some promise. This messenger had more coin than some minor lords Mordal had brought to their end in his homeland. Mordal could not help but grin at his luck as he turned to regain his mount. This was going to be a lucrative venture, Mordal thought as he climbed back into his saddle, guiding the stallion to resume in their original direction.
Chapter 2
Reunited Family and Restored Glory
Morning was quickly
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