Part 2

[Grim Assassin]

       There was no place left to run. Slipping through the shadows of the night, moving rapidly but silently between the darkened houses and buildings of the Palanthas docks, the assassin had entered a dead-end street. The walls rising around him were sheer, wet from the evening mists, and quite impossible to climb. Breathing heavily, the assassin looked around for a place to conceal himself. A few broken boxes, a splintered barrel, and nothing more. Cursing quietly, the assassin flitted into the deepest shadow he could see, where the wall of an old warehouse overhung the street slightly, blocking the moonlight. Holding his breath, the assassin listened to the night, straining his ears for the sound of pursuit. Faintly, but growing louder with every second, booted feet could be heard running through the city, along with the jangle of mail and the muttered oaths of the Special Guards as they searched for the killer.
        The assassin drew himself further back into the shadows, trying to meld with the darkness itself. He closed his eyes, listening. After a few moments, the sounds of the chase stopped. The assassin opened his eyes. Standing at the entrance to the street, seven burly Special Guards stood, naked blades in their hands. One of them dangled a set of steel shackles.
       ‘The tracks lead into here, for certain,’ whispered the Sergeant Guard to his companion, ‘The fool, there’s no way out from there!’
        ‘We should wait for Lord Kalinth still,’ was the muttered reply, ‘We aren’t paid enough to fight one like him!’
        The Special Guard smiled slowly, and shook his head. Beckoning to his comrades, he walked slowly into the street. The others quickly fell into line behind their Sergeant. The assassin sighed, and walked forward from his hiding place. The Guards quickly surrounded him, blades pointing. The assassin raised his hands to show he was weaponless.
         The Sergeant grinned. ‘You see my lads? The fear of Justice is enough to subdue the lawbreaking scum. On your knees, maggot!’

****

         ‘All dead?’ asked Kalinth to his captain.
         ‘To a man, my Lord’
          Kalinth reigned in his horse, surveying the scene before him. Seven bodies lay crumpled in a widening pool of blood, their necks all broken. They still had their swords drawn, though each sword was clean and bright. Not a single blow had been struck against the assailant. Footsteps in the blood led back out of the street, onto the shadowy roads of the docklands, disappearing after a short way. The Inquisitor of Law sighed and turned away.
          ‘Dark times, my friend.’ he said sadly. ‘First, the brother of the Speaker of the Sun is murdered in his own bed in Qualinost, then the Dwarven King’s own son slain, and now our own Mayor murdered in his sleep. What manner of evil has descended upon us?’
           ‘My lord, you believe the deaths are connected?’
           But there was no reply. Kalinth was deep in thought, his mind racing to find the answers. The elves already spoke of treachery against them from the humans, and now the dwarves were likely to think the same. Many people would think that the death of the Lord Mayor of Palanthas was a revenge attack. Kalinth did not believe it was for a second. There was some darker trick at work here. He snarled angrily. A single person by themselves is intelligent and reasonable. But together, gossiping and rumours would turn the city’s people into a furious beast.
           When the messenger arrived with the news, Kalinth was grimly satisfied to be proved right….
            ‘My Lord, the Ambassador of the Elves and his household is under attack! A mob has taken to the streets!’
 
****

[Solan]

Very nicely done again!
Keep it up, oh assassiny one!