Marionette - rough draft

Waves lapped against pale pink sand dotted with shells of various shapes and sizes as the sun beat down from overhead. The air was filled with the scent of water and salt as seagulls wheeled overhead. None of that, however, drew Raizel's attention away from the woman standing further down the shore. She was beautiful with flowing black hair, dark russet skin, and bright amber colored eyes, her only article of clothing was a long purple silk dress that trailed behind her in the shallows and exposed her back and arms. Around her neck was a silver necklace, the only bit of jewelry she wore, with a circular sapphire pendant.
"Mama!" He called, waddling as fast as his little legs would carry him.
As he ran towards her, she turned towards him, a brilliant smile upon her lips. "Come to me, my brave boy," she said as she crouched down.
His smile widened, and he giggled, holding his chubby arms outstretched to her. As he drew closer, his joy turned to horror as blood began oozing from her mouth, staining her teeth a dark crimson color.
"Mama!" He screamed in horror, in a deeper voice.
The arms he held towards her had transformed from those of a toddler to those of a man, and his strides were much longer. The once blue skies had turned to a dark grey color, and the pink sand beneath his feet had grown paler and more robust, and the seagulls were gone. Yet again, none of this drew his eyes away from the form of his mother as the silk covering her abdomen darkened to an almost black color as it became stained with blood.
He finally drew near to her as his mother toppled over onto her side but as he moved to dive for her, a searing pain suddenly burst from his right calf and he stumbled. Glancing down, he saw a dagger sticking out of his leg when the same pain erupted from his left shoulder, right thigh, the center of his abdomen, the left side of his stomach in the middle of his ribs, and his chest right below his collarbone.
A gasp of pain that turned into a wet cough escaped him, and a metallic taste filled his mouth as it grew difficult to draw breath. Looking back up, the once peaceful beach had turned into a luxurious bedroom filled with the stench of smoke, blood and the rapidly growing stench of death. A pool of blood spread across the white marble floor inch by inch as it flowed out of Raizel and the large, unmoving, form of Aurelius. His friend's body was riddled with arrows and had been sliced nearly in half by a gash that went from right shoulder to the center of his abdomen, right above his pelvis. His face was frozen in a mask of rage and betrayal. Raizel was numb with shock as he stared at the man who had killed his friend: King Cardin Oweyn. Torchlight gleamed off of Cardin's crown and plate mail armor making him look like a figure out of myth and legend. Aurelius' blood still dripping off the hand and a half long sword reminded Raizel that this was no tale.
Movement behind the King drew Raizel's eye and his numbed shock melted into a fiery hot rage as he caught sight of the smirking visage of the man who until a moment ago Raizel had thought of as a brother: Xanti. Ignoring the arrows sticking out of him, Raizel reached back and pulled the dagger out of his leg and lunched towards his betrayer.
"Xan-"
The name cut off as a vice clamped down around Raizel's throat and his eyes snap open to see black nothingness. Only the feeling of metal digging into his neck and his outstretched wrists told him for sure he was awake and no longer in a dream. Beads of sweat rolled down his naked body, as he pulled his hands back and the pressure around his neck eased until he was able to breathe again. Staring into the darkness in front of him, Raizel slowly breathed in and out, slowing his racing heart and filling his lungs with oxygen. Rolling his neck, he grimaced slightly as he felt his long matted, filthy, hair stick to his neck and back, while his unkempt beard scraped against his neck and upper chest. Since the beginning of his imprisonment, his mind had started to play tricks on him but, this was the first time it had blended two memories together like that. Usually, he dreamt of one moment or the other, not both in a horrid fusion.
Once he'd gotten his breathing and heart rate under control, Raizel let himself acknowledge the ache in his knees and phantom pains lingering from his actual healed injuries and the pain he'd felt in his nightmare. Standing, he felt the ache ease as he braced his back against the wall behind him. The sound of chains rattling joined the sound of his breathing as the only noise around him as the chains running from his neck to his wrists grew slightly slack. Metal shook again as it was pulled through the ring attached to the wall high above him as he lowered his hands until the metal collar around his neck grew taut, and his hands were equal height to his chest with his arms bent and elbows pressed against his sides.
The failed assassin wiggled his fingers and rolled his hands as the blood returned to them, bringing with it the feel of thousands of needles pricking his skin. He huffed in annoyance as he felt the rough iron cuff rub against the raw skin of his wrists. Within moments, he could feel something wet seep out from under the manacles and make its way down his forearm leaving yet one more line of blood that would be indistinguishable from the tracks and smears of blood running from his wrist to elbow. He knew without being able to see anything that his ankles and lower legs he knew were in worse condition, covered in blood, piss, and shit.
Raizel half-heartedly cursed the king who had come up with the idea to bind his wrists and neck together with one long chain. The first few times he’d wrenched his neck back by pulling his arms down too far or his shoulders by sliding down too far along the wall his cursing had been much more lively and imaginative. Now, he barely even summoned the energy to curse King Cardin as the former assassin had quickly realized it was far more productive to turn his time and energy towards other activities. Activities like his memory exercises and the little bit of physical exercise his chains would allow. Mainly squatting up and down to keep some of the muscle on his legs and a resistance training where he would pull his arms or upper body down until he was choking. It was nothing compared to what he used to do while training, but it was the only semblance of exercise he could manage with manacles around his wrists, ankles, and neck.
With the feeling back in his hands, and his pains and aches everywhere but his neck gone, Raizel began his daily mental exercise, going through every memory he had starting with the earliest and labeling them dead or alive. His earliest memories were of his parents of course, and he knew for sure his father was dead, having been lost at sea years ago, while his mother was still very much alive.
"Are you sure?"
Raizel tensed, and drew in a sharp breath, as the darkness in front of him darkened further and solidified into the form of Aurelius, bloody wounds and all.
"How do you know she's not dead like me?"
"Go away," Raizel muttered his voice hoarse as he moved onto the next memory.
"No need to be rude, you owe me your life after all," the dead man chided.
It was true, had Aurelius not thrown his arrow filled body forward Raizel would have been the one sliced in half by King Cardin's sword.
"I know," he said softly. "I can only hope being in Lyvona's embrace has brought you peace as I know I'll never be able to honor your death."
"I can think of something."
Raizel bristled, and his heart flooded with anger as Aurelius' tanned skin, tight blond curls, and bright blue eyes morphed into a face with russet colored skin, cropped black hair and green eyes.
"You could let yourself die," Xanti said.
"No," Raizel spat. "Not while you're still alive."
The figure grinned widely as he pointedly looked around the room. "And what exactly do you plan to do about that while chained up here?"
Raizel had no answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and continued his mental exercise, ignoring Xanti's taunting laughter and the small voice in the back of his head that said Raizel should have died the night Xanti betrayed them.
Both his mental exercise and Xanti's taunting were interrupted by a loud metallic screech filling the air. At the beginning of his imprisonment, the noise would make Raizel jump, but now his only reaction was his stomach growling as the sound meant he would be fed soon. For perhaps the hundredth-
"Are you sure it's not the thousandth, my brave boy?" The musical voice of his mother asked.
For the whateverth time, it was, Raizel found himself grudgingly admiring King Cardin’s genius punishment. First, he made sure Raizel survived, following the botched assassination attempt. Then, King Cardin waved off any suggestion of executing Raizel, denying the former assassin the gift of a quick death. And if that weren’t bad enough, King Cardin had locked Raizel away in the Elsarian prison; a dried up iron mine turned prison. Though he knew there were other prisoners locked up here as well, Raizel never got to see or hear any due to every prisoner being in their own solitary dead-end mine shaft cell. Despite everything he had done to not go completely insane in the near-suffocating silence of his pitch black cell, Raizel had utterly lost track of time since he had been imprisoned.
"For an assassin, you were always a terrible liar," came Xanti's voice in a mocking tone.
Raizel gnashed his teeth but conceded that his memory issue went back further than that. The last date he remembered for sure was the day of the failed assassination attempt, and he wasn't sure how long ago that had been. All he could remember between then and now was a blur of nothing but pain and flashes until the day he had been brought to the mine turned prison. At the start, he'd attempted to use the sound of the metal door at the entrance of his specific mine shaft opening to keep some record of time, but soon he'd been unable to tell if the guards were coming in earlier or later than usual.
A loud boom echoed through the still air as the heavy iron door beyond his cell door was closed. Metal boots striking stone filled the air growing louder with each passing second. It took only a moment of listening for Raizel to realize that there were triple the number of boots he frequently heard at feeding time.
"Hmm, I wonder if the King changed his mind?" Xanti asked with faux worry as Raizel's heart simultaneously sank in dread and sped up in anticipation.
They did have greater numbers, but the cell door was only big enough for one person to enter at a time so their numbers would be ineffective. If he were free, he could hide opposite to how the door opened, pressed against the solid metal wall that made up the door frame and put the first person who entered in a chokehold and quickly turn them, so the person was between Raizel and the opening. At the very least, he could use the momentary confusion to grab any weapons on their person and arm himself while simultaneously use the person as a living shield with the hopes of whoever was with them would hesitate to fight back.
"And then what would you do, crescent child?" The kindly voice of the head priestess of the Temple of the Moon asked. Her wrinkled face looked at him from the blackness with a mixture of pity but also compassion.
And then the man he was holding would likely break free and kill him before Raizel was even able to lift a sword because he probably had the strength of a child at this point. 'And all of that assumes I was free and able to even walk over to the door without falling,' Raizel thought wryly.
The faint smell of smoke and fire reached his nostrils, and a soft orange glow appeared in the keyhole of his door, and the only sound continued to be the sounds of metal boots against metal. Usually, the guards tasked with keeping him fed would joke and bellow complaints while making their way to his cell. So, either something far-reaching was going on, like Raizel’s execution, or someone else was on the other side of that door. But who could it be?
The light began streaming through the gap under his door as his future visitors turned down into the hall that leads straight to his cell. The sounds of six pairs of boots walking in step with one another grew louder and louder until they came to a stop outside his door. The moment of silence after all that noise made Raizel’s ears ring. Thankfully, the silence didn’t linger for very long as a key slid into the keyhole and his cell door was unlocked. Raizel’s eyes slammed shut, and a hiss of pain escaped him as light flooded his isolated cell. The smell of smoke was strong enough he could actually taste it. Telling him whoever it was they carried more than one torch.
“Strange,” the order’s master assassin mused as the priestess’s form shifted into his. He rubbed his bearded chin in contemplation as he stared at the door.
The guards who brought him the gruel that made up his meager meals had always arrived at his cell with a simple lantern lighting the way. That meant whoever had come to visit him had brought the torches had done so as not to light their way but specifically to blind him when the door opened.
His lips pulled back into a snarl as he forced his eyes open. His own body rebelled against him and tried to force his eyelids shut in response to the bright light. Fighting back, Raizel had to blink a few times before he could keep his eyes open. Even then, he had trouble seeing who was in the doorway due to the afterimages covering his vision.
“Still alive I see, Assassin?”
Raizel froze and felt ice run down his spine as he prayed to Lyvona his vision would clear quickly. Even though he had only heard that deep timbre once before, he knew who owned it.
“Could this be a new friend to join us?” Xanti mused, his voice loud and clear in Raizel’s ears even as his eyes burned.
Raizel feared that the specter of his former friend was correct and not only had he finally gone made but King Cardin Oweyn himself had become a voice in his head.
His vision quickly cleared, revealing six armor clad figures, four of which were holding torches that partially obscured his view of them. Standing in front of them, clad in chainmail armor covered by a black tunic with a red lion and black dragon facing one another backed by a gray shield emblazoned on his chest, and a white fur cloak with a hand and a half sword strapped to his hip was King Cardin Oweyn. Tall and robust, only the silver advancing up from his temples and wrinkles around his green eyes and mouth even hinted that the man was nearing fifty years.
None of Raizel’s usual specters appear, nor did they say a word, seemingly banished by his stunned disbelief. Only the pain coming from his neck and wrists told him he was at least awake. Similarly, the scents of dirt, grass, sweat and fresh air that lingered on the seven in front of him accompanying the smell of smoke and fire told him this was no hallucination. His phantoms always appeared without any sounds aside from their voices, and no scents cling to them like they did the guards that fed him.
“Your majesty,” Raizel began his voice raspy even after clearing his throat. “If I had known you were coming I would have cleaned up the place.”
A nasty grin appeared on Raizel’s face as he spied the guards behind the king scowl and frown in disgust as presumably, the stench of his cell hit their noses. He could no longer smell anything foul, having become acclimated to the scent of shit, piss and the scents that accompanied a person not bathing for an extended period of time. Their ruler was utterly impassive in the face of the sight and smell of his cell.
The six soldiers behind Cardin wore identical suits of chainmail and were also equipped with hand and a half long sword. Unlike their king, they wore rounded helmets that left their faces exposed. Examining these faces, Raizel was able to spy a mix of feminine and masculine faces as well as a few faces he vaguely recognized from the months leading up to the assassination attempt. Around the king’s massive form, Raizel was able to see the edges of blue tunics over the guard’s armor.
“I see five months in my prison has not stripped you of your sharp tongue,” the King said. The torchlight behind him cast his eyes in shadow, darkening their natural green to an almost black color that contrasted with the brightly gleaming gold crown on his head.
“Five months?” Aurelius’ form appeared next to the King. The wound that nearly cut him in half, right next to the sword that had done the deed. “Is that how long I’ve been dead?”
No. Raizel knew there had to be a period of time between the assassination attempt and when he first entered his cell. He knew his injuries had been completely healed when he’d been brought here, so there had to have been a significant period of time in between. Yet, his memory of that time was only a few blurred images.
“Why are you here?” He asked. Tilting his head, Raizel widened his grin. “I had assumed the only time I would see your face again was when I died and got to watch you thrown into the void.”
Eyes behind the King narrowed and frowns deepened, as the men and women recognized an insult directed at their ruler. From the back of the group, one of the guards holding a torch dropped his and began pushing forward, ignoring the restraining hands of his peers. Raizel blinked in surprise when the soldier continued forward until he had moved past even the King. The guardsman looked to be young enough to be the king’s son. His grey eyes, dark complexion and the dark strands of hair poking out from beneath his helmet, however, told Raizel there was no shared blood between the two. Upon his chest, Raizel saw a golden circle stitched onto blue tunic the guard wore.
His ears rang with Xanti’s laughter as the traitor appeared next to the young knight. “Lyvona’s mercy!” His former friend howled, clutching at his sides. “He's one of the King’s golden hounds!”
Raizel fought back a laugh of his own, though he did nothing to disguise his amusement as he stared at the Knight of the Golden Circle.
“You will show his majesty respect,” the young man spat.
He appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties making him nearly half a decade younger than Raizel. And looking at the exasperated soldiers, who remained behind the king, this young man, was the youngest in the room.
The failed assassin wondered if this was the first time the young knight had been in his King’s presence for an extended time. If he had ever met King Cardin before this day at all.
“Young, eager to prove himself, and of foreign blood,” Raizel’s master mused. “No wonder he’s forgotten himself.”
“Sir Marcus, hold,” King Cardin said, placing a restraining hand on the young knight’s shoulder.
Like a well-trained dog, the newly named knight halted his actions and seemed to realize he had made a faux pas, for a look of realization followed by contrition appeared on his face. Though, Raizel noted, the knight’s hand remained on the hilt of his sword. What exactly did he think Raizel would do? Attempt to kill the king again? This time with words instead of a weapon?
‘Does he think I might kick my shit at them? Or maybe strangle them with my hair?’ After months without being allowed to wash, Raizel’s hair likely bore more resemblance to a length of rope than hair.
“It’s such a shame, my brave boy,” his mother murmured a sorrowful tone added to her musical voice. “You had such lovely hair.” Raizel was glad she didn't appear as he knew he would have started crying at the sight of her saddened face. As it was, her mournful tone that he knew came as a result of the entire situation he was in, made a lump form in his throat.
“Forgive Marcus, he is young.” King Cardin said as the knight moved behind him.
“I never blame a dog for his master’s poor training ability,” the failed assassin responded.
Raizel saw a smirk of amusement briefly appear on the King’s face.
“I am here to make you an offer,” the King said, ignoring Raizel’s jab.
What? Raizel stared at King Cardin Oweyn, great-great-great-grandson, of Conqueror Gautier Oweyn, looking for any sign he was joking.
“Do you know what [tournament] is?”
The failed assassin’s eyes narrowed as he studied the king, examining his face and tone for any trace of mockery. Was King Cardin trying to get a rise out of him by insulting his intelligence?
“I doubt anyone living on the face of the planet could go without hearing about it even if they tried.” Raizel’s home country of Kimiri rarely participated due to the extensive use of runes used to heal participants who weren’t killed by their opponent. Though they still paid more attention to it than King Cardin and his people would have believed.
“Aryia will be hosting the next tournament,” the king continued. “And it was decided that criminals will be allowed to compete from now on.”
“Should have kept me alive if he wanted a fighter,” Aurelius’ specter said while staring at the man who’d ended his life.
“You want me to fight for you? Why?” It had to be evident to everyone in his cell that Raizel was in no shape to put up even the meagerest of defenses.
“Obviously he wants to see you run through in the middle of an arena,” Xanti sneered at him from behind the king.
No, Raizel might have been half insane but, he was sure he knew the king well enough to know Cardin wouldn’t enjoy watching him die quickly. “Why would you and the other rulers agree to this?” he asked.
“I can’t speak for the others,” the King began with a faint shrug. “But, I have received word that another assassin is being sent after me.”
Raizel couldn’t decide if the King was crazy or incredibly smart. “So you’ve given any would-be assassin an easy opportunity to get close to you.”
The failed assassin, his dead comrade and the traitor had thought about using the tournament as a cover to get close to their target. Of course, the location had not been decided on yet, and none of them had wanted to wait nearly two years to complete their job. Plus, King Cardin would have been surrounded by even more guards than usual thanks to all the other leaders attending. Making the risk of death too high for the three assassins to be comfortable with.
“But, that still doesn’t explain why you would want a second assassin there, especially one who has tried to kill you once already.”
If Raizel were in King Cardin Oweyn’s shoes, he would be hesitant to allow an assassin with literally nothing to lose within five miles of him. Let alone let him near a weapon of any kind.
“What better person to find an assassin than another assassin?” the King answered.
Raizel shook his head and winced as his matted hair caught the chain connected to his neck and pulled at his scalp. “If another assassin is after you it won’t be anyone I know.”
With the failure of two assassins and the betrayal of the third, the Masters at the Temple would be hesitant to send anyone else for a long while. He could only pray to Lyvona that Xanti had kept quiet about their country of origin. Kimiri was too small of a nation to withstand the wrath of Aryia head on.
“That’s a shame,” King Cardin said with a shrug, looking entirely unconcerned. “I guess you’ll just have to put more effort into your job.”
“My job? I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Raizel was beginning to become annoyed with this King’s arrogance.
“Are you really trying to tell me you would say no to the only chance you have of getting out of here?” The king’s smile was cold enough to freeze water.
“Why would you give me such an offer when I could easily walk away and return in a few years to finish what I started?”
The king’s smile never wavered, although Raizel could plainly see the golden pup at Cardin’s side bristle at the threat.
“How exactly do you expect to leave my city? Let alone my kingdom when every citizen knows your name? When everyone knows what you look like after I painstakingly made sent images of you to every corner of my kingdom?”
‘Shit,’ Raizel thought, carefully keeping his face blank. “If that’s true then I have even less reason to say yes.”
Cardin tilted his head, his smile giving way to a look of doubt and curiosity. “So you would throw away your only chance at breathing fresh air?”
As much as Raizel wanted to breathe fresh air again and stand beneath Lyvona’s moon once more, he would rather take his chances here than get mixed up in Cardin Oweyn’s issues. He opened his mouth to say as much when the King spoke again.
“And your chance of getting revenge on the man that put you in here?”
Xanti grinned widely at him.
Raizel wasn’t sure who he hated more at that moment, himself for considering saying yes to his offer. Or King Cardin for the knowing look he was currently sending Raizel. He knew he would have to answer to Lyvona in death for letting revenge poison his heart and mind and Raizel might spend all of eternity in the Void for it but, Lyvona forgive him, all he wanted was to wring Xanti’s neck.
The head priestess stared at him sadly. “The path you take is shrouded in shadow but Lyvona’s light will always guide you.”
“Say I say yes, what then?” It was a weak attempt at stalling the inevitable. Raizel knew it, King Cardin knew it, hell even Marcus likely knew it. But if Raizel was going to agree to this, then he wanted to know every aspect of what was going to happen.
“First of all, you will not be working alone in your investigation. Marcus here will be with you every second of every day.”
‘Lovely,’ Raizel rolled his eyes as Marcus puffed himself up with pride. ‘A watchdog who watches my every move likely ordered to kill me if I even sneeze wrong.’
“Second, up until the time of the tournament, you will be staying at the palace. Your only contact will be with those I task with training you or guarding you and absolutely no one from the outside.”
“Servants aren't from the outside,” Raizel’s master murmured.
“Third, and this is the most important thing, so please remember it,” King Cardin’s expression became even smugger. How this was possible Raizel didn’t know but, it did. “If you fail to identify the assassin before they try to kill me or even before the tournament ends. I will throw you back in here.”
A fate made all the worse by Raizel’s brief taste of freedom. Oh yes, he could see why someone had wanted to kill this man. He was half tempted to say ‘no’ if only to wipe the look of from the King’s face.
“And what about Marcus? Will he be able to avoid hindering me while I try to figure out who wants to kill you?” Already, Raizel could easily see the pup either screwing up his investigation, killing Raizel for ‘suspicious’ behavior, or being the cause of King Cardin dying because he refused to believe the former assassin.
“I’m sure the two of you can find some way of working together,” King Cardin replied as though he were speaking to a child. “But ultimately it’s not my concern.”
Raizel carefully weighed his options for a moment. Was earning a chance to go after Xanti worth being used in such a blatant fashion? Was it worth being watched like a hawk by Marcus every hour of every day? Was it worth being made such a public target for both the King’s enemies and his own? The answer Raizel found was a resounding yes.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”