create
Nina Chase
The Assassin

Synopsis:

A little boy grew like every other child in Glasgow Scotland, but his childhood was questioned by his mum when she found him to throw more questions to her than other kids of his age would throw on their mum. Especially magical and heroic questions. She noticed him reason above his peer and was little irritated with his questioning lifestyle.

Anto was his name, and at 10 he kept everyone surprised with a strange teeth he grew in his mouth. A yellowish teeth. It later tuned gold when fully grown. The potentials of the teeth was made known to Anto when he was able to see a house in the neighborhood destined to burn, and later did burnt down after some days. Though it was a teeth of vision to help him see beyond humans, it tormented Anto with pains he couldn’t bear, and as such seek to remove the teeth. Only a magical girl can remove it successfully. A witch girl that once seek to destroy him because of his magical teeth, but she never did succeed. The teeth had spell stronger than her charms, and now the irony was that only she can take off this teeth from Anto. Anto due to the discomfort that comes with the teeth submitted himself to then magic girl who successfully removed the teeth and seek to kill Anto to get full control of the teeth. But she couldn’t. Only the spell from the teeth can be used to harm Anto, which didn’t work because it knew its source.

Anto removed it successfully and moved on with a new life without a strange teeth and was found to live like a normal human.

The Assassin.

Rain pelted down with ferocious force and lashed against the windows. Any of the guards and any villagers unfortunate enough to be caught in its downpour shielded their faces with their hands and any objects available, but on this night the rain was welcomed for here at castle Mearsch a fire was raging. Several floors had been engulfed by the flames so far, and despite the efforts of the staff and villagers and guards, all of their labours had so far proved fruitless. Meanwhile, on the third-floor, a man was lurking in the shadows, skulking between the flames and merging with the smoke to move as one, unseen, unheard beneath the screams and cloth adorning his feet masKing his footsteps.

The assassin approached the King and Queen’s chamber; two guards remained in place armed with tower shields and a longsword, their chainmail armour glistened in the flickering flames and moonlight that broke through the clouds for a moment and sliced through the crenel. The assassin remained close to the wall, still obscured by the smoke he pulled his bow from his back and drew two arrows, he steadied his aim and held his breath then released the first arrow. Already in motion and on target he released the second arrow a second after knowing full well the positioning the first man would be in after it hit.

The first arrow ripped through the guard’s thin neck armour, he contorted his head and fell forward clutching the shaft allowing the second arrow to hit the same place on his friend beside him. Onwards the assassin ran, the last thing the guards would ever see, he unsheathed his short sword and pushed the door open just enough to gain a glimpse into the room. There were voices, a man, a woman and a child’s. He entered the room; it was grand with many tapestries along the walls with paintings and swords too. Candles flickered from the fixings on the walls. A round table with four chairs rested in the centre of the room with a bowl of fruit on it. There was a door to the far right; he listened, waited, for he knew no matter what was to happen next the King and his family would be dead by his hand or by the fire.

“Lada, my love,” King Magnar started, “time is against us, you must escape at once with the children.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” she sobbed.

“You must. It is no coincidence that this fire started and grew in such a way that it has stopped us from going above and below.”

“Magnar, what do you mean?”

“Take the children!” he bellowed.

“Magnar, you’re the King, you must escape with us. We need you. The Kingdom needs you.”

“Lada, you must-” the door swung open cutting him off but before he could reach for his sword the assassin’s sword was through his side piercing through many of his organs before being twisted and ripped free. Magnar collapsed clutching his side as his lifeforce spilt over the floor, his breathing slowed, but his heart raced as death crept forward.

Lada reached for Magnar’s sword; the assassin pulled his mask lower to reveal his amused smile, she gasped then grabbed the sword with both hands and swung. He stepped back and laughed and shook his head. A shriek came from across the room; there was a face, the innocent face of a helpless child locked in a moment of terror, she stared as he looked back into her emerald eyes. Lada peered over her shoulder, her eyes widened.

“Valdis, lock-” a bloodcurdling scream filled the air, she looked down. A steel blade was protruding out of her chest dripping with blood. He yanked it free, Valdis pushed the door but was immediately knocked backwards and fell as the door swung open. The assassin stood in the doorway, his sword dripping and painted crimson. Valdis started crawling back never taking her eyes off the man. Valdis stood and ran to the far side of the room and towards the cot beneath the window, she reached inside and picked up her brother. She gasped. Searing pain surged through her body; her heart pounded, raced, a cold chill swept through her body. Her baby brother burst into tears, she clutched him tightly but her grip diminished yet he was still held in place.

Blood ran down the blade; it was Balder’s, the sword had pierced his chest as well as hers. His struggles were fading fast as was hers. She drew a breath then collapsed as the blade came free releasing her and dropping her brother back to his bed. A blinding green glow filled the room and formed a cloud, it lowered and covered Valdis then she and the assassin vanished into the cloud. Lada stared into Magnar’s eyes; she reached out a few inches to meet his hand, he stretched his arm out and gripped her fingers and stared into her eyes as the light faded out of them and with it, her hand dropped to the hardwood floor. Magnus kept his eyes on his beloved, his goddess, his Queen, and the love of his life. Darkness descended upon his sight; death was here.

Several minutes had passed since the assassin attacked and the path to the royal chamber was clearing. Vidar, Magnar’s younger brother, had led the effort in stopping the fire. His arms and chest and the left side of his face had been burnt, but he was far from deterred. The heat was close to being unbearable, had it not been for the valiant efforts of the staff, villagers and the guards, the castle would have been an inhospitable fortress from which Vidar was certain his King and family would never have escaped.

“It’s just through here, we made it,” Vidar cheered pressing on. A beam cracked above, the wall crumbled, and with it, a portion of the ceiling collapsed. He rolled out of the way and looked back; he scoffed then moved on. The smoke was still thick, Vidar tore at his tunic and held the piece to his mouth. He could make out two figures ahead, he ran over and examined the first man. He furrowed his brow and removed his hand; it was covered in blood.

“What the hell?” he breathed heavily and pressed on into the room. The smoke wasn’t as heavy here and allowed full viewing of the unfortunate carnage which had happened. He kneeled at Magnar’s side. A faint breath escaped Magnar’s mouth. “Brother. Magnar. What happened?”

“Assassin,” Magnar’s voice croaked, “Val-Valdis. Balder,”

Vidar entered the bedroom. The floor was stained crimson with a puddle of blood beside the crib. He edged nearer fearing what lay inside, but curiosity overtook him. He gazed inside with tears streaming down his face and clouded vision. Balder drew a shallow breath; blood was running down his chest. Vidar picked him up and cradled him then examined the wound. There was no way of knowing how deep the blade had gone, but it was evident to Vidar that his rib cage had been opened. Balder’s breathing was slow, and he was pale. Vidar took the blanket from the crib and wrapped Balder in it then took him to Magnar.

“My Lord, Balder has been injured, and your daughter is missing. There-”

“Bloom. Take him,” Magnar said in a whisper, “Bloom,” he uttered, his head slumped back with a faint breath. Vidar bowed to his fallen King and left the quarters. The path had been cleared; the fire was fading as was Balder’s life. Vidar knew precisely what he meant by Blood. It was The Bloom, a school for orphans, a place where he could grow up in safety and learn how to become skilled with swords, bows, axes and even magic if he sought to learn the ways of Dhrenn. But not all those who seek to learn the ways of Dhrenn have good intentions, for even those who are pure of heart can become corrupted by evil thoughts and desires. With many of the teachings being lost to the ages and with only a handful of Grandmasters left scattered, hidden, reclused, or even trapped within a tomb, those who sought what knowledge they possessed rarely were successful.

The Bloom was far, hundreds of miles away to the east in the Kingdom of Neihr ruled by King Alvis the wise, or all-wise as he was also known. Vidar knew that once word got out that the Balder, the only living heir was alive, then another assassination would be made, and this time they would make sure it was done.

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