A Bit From The Author:Yeh! For all you guys who do not know me, i am JumpingJet.
I would like to say i used to be a very sucsessfull writer getting second place in FFotM and most nominations for my FF's.
Although i have been slacking lately and i have not wrote in a long time.
I would like to take this time to practice my skills and get ready for the up-comming FF contest to win ODST. Plus to keep all you guys happy as you will all hopefully enjoy my style of writing.
Anyway, thats me, i hope you like my FF!
JumpingJet
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Up Coming Chapters:Prologue = Out Now!!!
Chapter 1 = Out Now!!!
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Shadows Call - By JumpingJetBlurbFor Duro Blint, assassination is an art.
And he is the city’s most accomplished artist, his talents required from alleyway to courtly boudoir.
For Azoth, survival is precarious. Something you never take for granted. As a guild rat, he’s grown up in the slums, and learned way to judge people quickly – and to take risks.
But to be accepted, Azoth must turn his back on his old life and embrace a new identity and name. As Kylar Stern, he must learn to navigate the assassins’ world of dangerous politics and strange magics – and cultivate a flair for death.
PrologueA white snake slid onto the table with a thump. Kylar barely had time to register what it was before it struck at his face. He saw its mouth open, huge, fans glittering. He was moving back to too slowly.
Then the snake disappeared as Kylar was falling backward off the stool. He landed flat on his back but bounced back up to his feet in an instant.
Blint was holding the snake behind the head. He had grabbed it out of the air while it was striking. “Do you know what this is, Kylar?”
“It’s a white asp.” It was one of the most deadly snakes in the world it rarely grew longer than a man’s forearm, but those they did bite died within seconds.
“No” He said “It’s the price of failure”
BEFORE READING THE NEXT CHAPTER PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT THE DATABASE TO EXPLAIN KEY WORDS AND IDEAS:
http://www.halowars.com/forums/ShowThread.aspx?PostID=699946#699946 Chapter 1“Get up boy, its time to kill.”
Kylar was awake instantly. He was fourteen years old and the training has sunk in enough that he went through his survival checklist instantly. For each question there was only a short answer.
What woke you? Voice.
What do you see? Darkness, dust, afternoon light.
What do you smell? Blint, sewage.
What do you feel? Warm blanket, fresh straw, my bed.
Can you move? Yes.
Where are you? Safe house.
Is there danger? The last question of course was the culmination. He could move, his weapons were in their sheaths, all was well.
That wasn’t guaranteed, not even here, in this dingy safe house. More that one Durzo had tied a sword to the ceiling over Kylar’s bed; the damn thing was nearly invisible when you looked up at the point. Durzo had woken Kylar and when he didn’t recognise the danger within 3 seconds Durzo would cut the rope. Fortunately, he’d capped the point the first time and the second. The third time, he didn’t.
Decoding Durzo’s words came last. Time to kill.
“You think I am ready?” Kylar asked his heart pounding.
“You were ready a year ago. I just needed the right job for your solo.”
“What do I have to do?” I was ready a year ago? Blint’s complements came like that, when they came at all. And usually, even a grudging complement was followed by come criticism.
“It’s at the castle, and it’s got to be finished today. Your deader is 26 years old, no military training, shouldn’t be armed. But he’s well liked a busy little bee. An assassin could get this job done. He said ‘Assassin’ with a sneer, like any other Wetboy would. But it doesn’t matter for the contract just get the job done, he needs to die.
Kylar’s heart pounded, this was it. It wasn’t s simple test, not for a killer his age anyway. Can Kylar kill solo? Can Kylar do what a Wetboy does? Can Kylar decide a suitable entry to the castle and infiltrate its walls to reach his target? Can he do it without killing innocents? Can he get out after the hit alive? Or can he use his talent? The measure that separates a Wetboy from a common assassin. How the hell does Blint come up with these things? The man had a brilliance for ferreting out and exploiting Kylar’s weaknesses, especially his biggest weakness, Kylar hadn’t been able to use his talent. Not yet. Not once. Blint was always pushing Kylar to new lengths, hoping some sense of desperation, of dire need would bring it out of him. Nothing had worked yet.
Durzo had often wondered aloud if he should just kill Kylar. Instead he decided as long as Kylar could do what a Wetboy does, he would train him. He had promised himself it would ultimately fail, it was impossible. A Wetboy wasn’t a Wetboy without his Talent.
“Who took out the contract?” Kylar asked
“The Shinga.”
“You’re trusting me with that?”
“You’re going in this afternoon and if you mess up I’m going in tonight and I’m taking the Shinga two heads.”
Kylar didn’t need to ask whose head the other was.
“What did the deader do?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Does it matter?”
A knife appeared in Blint’s hand, but his eyes didn’t look violent. He just flicked it, finger to finger, finger to finger in both hands.
“No” he said “It doesn’t.”
* * *
“Devon Corgie?” the guard furrowed his eyebrows. “No, don’t know him. Hey, Gamble” He asked another guard walking through the castles enormous west gates “You seen a Devon Corgie?”
It was almost too easy; Kylar had long ago stolen the tunic and bag of the city’s biggest courier service. When guards looked like they were about to ask questions he just asked them directions. Don’t they know? Couldn’t they see? These men were guards hired to protect Devon and all the other people inside the castle, not lead killers to them. It was a uneasy sense of power to Kylar, he didn’t like it. Kylar was becoming dangerous – and yet, how could they not see who he was?
“Sure, he’s the one that was jumping in-between the shadows. I think he is up in the north tower. If you want to take a message to him, ill take it for you. My shift starts in a few minutes and that’s my first stop on the round.” Kylar paused, his mission could end in failure here, and he had to think quickly.
“No, Its ok I am hoping for a tip, which way is it?” Nice save.
As they guard gave Kylar directions he began to formulate his plan. The kill shouldn’t be too hard. The hard part would be finding the deader, he moved around a lot. That added all sorts of risks, especially because he need to get his kill in this afternoon or Blint would have his head. The north tower sounded good. Isolated. Kylar continued to scan the area as he moved, the guard coming looked bad for him so he just stopped and ask for directions again. With the make-up Blint had used on him he looked totally different and younger by years. It was best to leave every death a mystery, a Wetboy leaves corpses not evidence. It was simple, Kylar would wait until the guard he saw at the front gates who was stopping by at the tower went and then he would move in on the deader then get out of there. Simple. In and out, no problem, even without his talent.
Leaving the diamond shaped castle yard Kylar walked up stone steps that sank in the middle with thousands of feet treading the same path as him over the years. Walking past a guard he assumed the role of a servant, the guard just walked straight past. Blint said that a disguise cloaks a Wetboy better than the shadows any day.
Soon he passed most of the castle ground into the castle, past the queue of people waiting for an audience in the throne room , past the open double door to the gardens and to the doors of the north tower. Devon wasn’t outside, so he must be inside. Kylar opened the double doors to the stairs and started to climb. He made is way to the top of the stairs and into a wide open room. It was, it seemed, just a wide open bed chamber currently not being used. A young man carrying a ledger book was rushing through some draws at the back of the room as if to look for something. Kylar waited, Devon was turned sideways towards Kylar’s position, and without his talent to shadow his approach there was no doubt his cover would be blown.
The waiting was always the worst. Kylar began to entertain fantasies that the guard would come up the stairs at any moment. Seeing Kylar this late he would surly search him, upon searching hi he would find a slit in his trousers, noticing the hand sized slit he would find the knife that Kylar had strapped to his inner thigh. But there was nothing to gain from worrying. Kylar waited just out of sight, his ears open willing them to hear just the slightest noise, waiting for the guard. Finally, Devon walked over to a closet; he opened the doors, obstructing his view to Kylar.
Seeing the opportunity Kylar jumped up and scanned the room for possible places to hide. Nowhere, there was no tight spaces, no dark corners, the room was almost circular. Pitifully, the only place to hide was underneath the bed. Under the bed? Master Blint will never let him live this down. But there was no other option, Kylar dropped flat onto his front and rolled under the bed, where he could hear footsteps coming up the staircase. Finally the guard now look around and get the hell out!
The door opened.
“Lo dev!” The guard cheered.
“Oh, hello gamble.” Devon said begrudgingly feeling rather nervous.
“That courier find you?”
“Courier?”
“Little shite musta gotten lost, everything fine up here?”
“Sure, just fine”
“See ya round”
Devon had waited until the guard had gone 30 seconds before striding over to the bed, stuffing his pockets above Kylar. This is it; the guard would be far enough away that even if Devon cried out he wouldn’t be heard. Devon stepped away from the bed towards the window. Kylar Crawled out from beneath the bed like a bug, he stood and drew the knife from his thigh. Devon was mere paces away; Kylar’s heart began to pound. He did everything right, low steady stance, advancing quietly but quickly. He brought the knife up to eye level, prepared to grab Devon and give him what Blint liked to call the red grin, a slash across thought and deep into the wind pipe. Kylar was inches away, and Devon hadn’t heard him. But the very nearness got to him, as if his whole training just abandoned him. He stabbed for Devon’s neck but hit spine and the knife bounced out of his neck and his hand. Devon turned and yelped as if more suppressed by Kylar’s sudden appearance rather than the sting in his neck. They both stepped back at the same time whilst Devon put his hand to is neck and screamed in shot as he looked at his hand, blood covered it. They both looked down at the knife; whilst Devon stared in horror at it Kylar scooped it up. As Kylar started to stand Devon knelt.
“Please” he said “Please, don’t.”
It seemed wired, a grown man, scared of a boy Kylar’s age, there was nothing frightening about him. Was there? But Devon looked like a man who had seen his judgement come. His face was white, eyes round. He looked pathetic. Kylar slashed his throat in frustration.
Why didn’t he protect himself? Why didn’t he even try? He was bigger than Kylar, why must he act like a sheep? A big sheep human, to dumb to move.
Kylar looked at the cut; it was deep and would kill but not fast. He grabbed his hair and slashed again, twice. Not a drop on Kylar, just as Blint had taught him. There was a sound from the staircase; Kylar froze in shock, no-where to hide.
“Devon, I’m sorry.”
It was a female voice, she stepped into the room. She saw Devon, she saw the knife, she saw Kylar, she screamed!
Finish the job!
Training took hold; he was across the room in an instant. He yanked the woman forward, swept a foot in, pivoted, and she flipped over onto the carpet. The woman was beneath him, face down to the floor. The next move was to slice the knife between her ribs; she wouldn’t feel it and he wouldn’t have to see her face. He hesitated, his life against hers. She had walked in and saw the deader, she was evidence she had to die! Blint has already told him. Just finish the job! But no, there had to be another way, could he tell her to leave the country and never come back? Keep her mouth shut? Would she do it? No, of course not. She would run out of here and tell the nearest guard and there will be 10 of them in this room before you can say ‘Go!’.
“I told Devon what would happen if he stole from the Sa’Kagé” She started to mumble underneath her tears. “And now you’re here to kill me aren’t you? Because I saw you do it? You really are aren’t you?”
“Yes” He said, but he couldn’t he moved the blade next to her ribs ready to slice but he couldn’t do it!
“Oh, god why, why did I take this job?” She continued to mumble when Kylar say a shadow out of the corner of his eye. It was Blint, he had followed Kylar to make sure he got the job done. He knew what he had to do.
The woman carried on chanting to herself “Please, don’t! I have a family…”
Kylar whispered in her ear as she continued chanting. “Ssshhh, it will all be OK.”
Then he sliced down her ribs three times. He felt the shudder and sigh of the woman dying beneath him.
He stood, unsure about what he had done. Regardless he had done it. His first solo. It was finished. He faced Blint. “Well done.” He said quietly.
