He walked briskly through dark, lonely streets heading towards the celebration in the south. Most of the Doorspawn had been attracted there, drawn by the cheery warmth of the revelers. He could hear screams and sounds of fighting ahead of him, but here, in the northern residential quarter, all was quiet. Gas-lit lamps shone atop posts at each corner, lonely oases of radiance in a vast desert of darkness.
Rinaldo thought back to the fiery Fiorenne. She was, so far, the greatest perk he had ever had on an assignment. Admittedly, though, his expertise lay in the subtle and the not-so-subtle manipulations of courtly politics. But the Albertan Shadows have changed leadership, and with the new management came a new agenda. This affair with the otherworldly Doors seemed to be a prime element in their new agenda, so much so that they had to cooperate efforts with the mystic cabal known only as the Black Circle.
He smiled inwardly. This was turning out to be the greatest concert in the history of Rune-Midgard, and he was playing the front act.
Rinaldo and Fiorenne were both assigned to the task of finding the right Door, the so-called Door of Laeveteinn. It would have been an easy task if they had the Artifact. But, as it was, a defecting thief named Diradem Tarkis had stolen the Artifact two years ago.
Unconsciously, Rinaldo whistled through the unbarring octave, rehearsing the mystical melody that would paralyze everyone within earshot. He would use that when he found Tarkis. His best bet was the celebration. Afterall, the Day of the Dead was what brought the man here.
"I smell blood."
The sudden whisper gave Rinaldo a start. He looked around, but found noone. The street was empty as far as he could see. He was alone. Must be his imagination, then. He shrugged, laughing nervously, and continued walking. He couldn't help but finger the silver medallion that hung around his neck. As long as he had the Door Charm, he was safe from Doorspawn.
He turned around a corner, giving furtive glances behind him. Beneath the gaslight, he paused, breathing in the desert air. A cool breeze passed him by, but for only a moment.
"Remember South Hold," whispered the breeze.
Startled he spun around, but there was noone there. He summoned up his concentration--something he learned to do in his younger days as an archer. But still he couldn't find the source of the whisper.
It did say South Hold. He was assigned there, many years ago, his first missions as a bard. The lord of South Hold and his family had committed suicide after Rinaldo's smear campaign destroyed the lord's reputation and riches. It was a particularly skillful manipulation, and he prided himself with that accomplishment. But he worked behind the shadows then and noone, but the Albertan thieves' guild and him, knew who pulled the strings then.
He walked faster now, fear driving his quickened steps. He was almost at the bridge, one of only two in the city, which spanned across the aqueduct circling the central quarter. The quiet gurgle of the water below was calming to his nerves, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His breath caught when he saw what was on the other side of the bridge though.
Standing below the pool of light cast by a gas lamp was a tall, slim man, wearing a tight-fitting suit. Bands of cloth were wrapped around his arms and legs and torso. His head was bowed and the bunny ears that crowned it were motionless. His arms were crossed across his chest, holding a pair of jurs. The exotic blades caught the light on their emveretarcon-sharpened edges, and glinted like stars on a dark night.
The man raised his head, and Rinaldo could only see the man's eyes; black cloth masked the man's lower face. Even from this distance, the eyes shone with anger.
"Rinaldo, Aria of Deception, of the Albertan Shadows?" the man asked with a quiet voice.
"W-Who wants to know?" Rinaldo tried to reply firmly, but his voice broke. He cursed himself inwardly. Whoever this bunny-eared man was, he could take him. Hopefully.
"Heh. You will know by the time we're done." The bunny ears bobbed as the man brandished his twin blades. And then he was off, sprinting fast towards Rinaldo.
Rinaldo hastily pulled his lute from his back and plucked out the chords to the unbarring octave. His cape flared out as he poured his spirit into the melody. But it didn't stop the man, who was now halfway down the bridge. No, he was now only a couple of feet away from him!
Rinaldo dived to the side to avoid the two thrusting blades, wincing as he felt one of them connect, slicing through his side. He rolled back up to his feet, leaning on a bridge post to support himself. The fine leathers he wore were ripped along his side, and a growing crimson spot was starting to soak his white undershirt.
The bunny band assassin pressed his attack, whirling like a desert dervish. His double jurs seemed to dance in the air before him. Rinaldo tried to block with his lute, but more cuts appeared on his jacket's sleeves. He could feel the stinging of a hundred slices along both of his arms.
He leaped aside as the assassin thrust both jurs straight at him. Friction sparks flew as the blades buried into the stone bridgepost behind Rinaldo.
"Heh," said the assassin, trying to pull his weapons free.
Now's my chance.
Putting some distance away from the bridge's edge, Rinaldo ripped the Door Charm off his neck and held it aloft.
"Hear me, spawn of the Other World. Hear me and obey!"
For a moment, everything was still, save for the assassin tugging at the jurs stuck in stone. With a jarring sound that caused Rinaldo to clench his jaw, the blades finally pulled free.
The bunny band assassin examined the blades a moment, then turned back towards him. Rinaldo would have thought the bunny ears absurd, but the assassin's eyes more than made up for the lack in menace. "They now call me Skeptic. But once, long ago, you destroyed my former self."
It was then that the bard's summons was answered. First came the howls. High-pitched and blood-chilling, the howls echoed in the desert night. Finally, the shadows materialized around him, four hunched forms shaped and sized like bull mastiffs; their bodies black pits that swallowed all light, their eyes blazing like the fires of a hundred hells, their teeth bared in maws that were unnaturally large.
Once more, Rinaldo gestured with the Door Charm, and the four shadowy mastiffs shot off, circling the assassin, growling deeply. The bard could play, to enhance the Doorspawns' fighting abilities, but he needed to hold the medallion to maintain control.
One of the dogs made a sudden leap for the assassin's throat--
He'd seen them in action many times before, of course, but Rinaldo still marveled at their speed. Almost as if they weren't constrained by this world's time.
--but Skeptic was faster: he ducked beneath the slavering jaws and gutted the creature. No actual guts poured out, nor blood. The gutted dog just plopped down on the ground, failed to get up as its legs buckled, and began to fade, leaving only some shadowy residue behind.
The three remaining Doorspawn continued to circle the assassin, who held his jurs crossed against his chest, trying to keep them in view all at once. Skeptic glanced at Rinaldo, fixing his eyes on his. Then, charged at the bard.
Instantly, the trio of Doorspawn leaped at him, sensing primitively that the assassin has dropped his guard. But the bunny band assassin was no fool. He launched himself into the air, doing a perfect somersault that took him outside the canines' circle. He leaped again as he landed and Rinaldo suddenly couldn't see him. Even the Doorspawn were puzzled, sniffing the air in between growls.
"You used this to summon them? Very nice. Heh," came a sinister voice behind him.
Rinaldo hastily turned around and found the assassin a few paces behind him, examining the Door Charm in one hand. How did he--?
Even as he wondered how Skeptic got the silver medallion, he watched as the assassin threw it down on the ground and punched a jur through it. Black crackling energy shot out from the destroyed charm. Skeptic looked back up at him.
"Hmm. Watch your back."
Without the control of the Door Charm, the shadow dog pack flew into a rampage, attacking the nearest victim. Which, in this case, happened to be Rinaldo.
The bard spun just in time, his fingers dancing desperately on the strings of his lute. The melodic strike caught the lead shadow dog in midair, knocking it down to the ground. He aimed two more sonic blasts on the other two, dropping them as well. They lay whimpering, fading back into insubstantiality.
He exhaled hard and then remembered the assassin behind him. But he was too late. His left arm went numb and his lute fell, unsupported. Then his left leg gave as he turned, and he spilled over his fallen instrument. Splinters from the broken instrument dug into his back.
Looking down his legs, he found his hamstrings cut, blood pooling under it. His back felt wet too. The assassin must have severed some nerve there too.
Shuddering, he looked up, eyes wild with fear and tears, at the approaching assassin. The white bunny ears were soaked with crimson.
"Don't you remember my eyes?" The question held menace beyond measure, even muffled by the assassin's lower facemask.
Rinaldo searched the man's steel grey eyes. They were cold and hard. He shivered, but couldn't place the man anywhere. "Remember? I don't even know who you are!" Rinaldo managed to choke out. Blood was filling his lungs; he could taste it in his mouth.
"South Hold," the assassin said simply, as if that was enough answer.
"The Lord of House Entraedi killed his own family before he took his own life! None of it was my doing..." Rinaldo sobbed, feeling his life ebbing away.
"One escaped his father's madness."
Rinaldo's eyes widened. "Can't be. You're...Entraedi's son?"
"Heh. I've tracked you all these years, Rinaldo. I've pieced it all together." The assassin looked down at him, pulling down the facemask to reveal a bitter smile. "My only regret is that killing you won't change anything."
"No! I--"
"Hush. You won't die just yet," Skeptic said, as he carefully sliced open the bard's chest. "You will suffer first."
Rinaldo blacked out from the pain, welcoming dark oblivion.
