NEW BEGINNINGS

James E. McWhinney

Copyright (c) 1992

The Red Dragon Inn is a good place to be if you need time to think. King Roland's soldiers don't often venture very far into this part of the city, even during daylight. Some of the people up in the Royal Quarter call this area Jester's Quarter, but only when they're not here. There's nothing funny down here. Nothing at all. That's what makes it a good place to be when you need to think, and tonight I do.

For months, rumors have been filtering into town about an elfin wizard who has been stirring up trouble in the Southern Forest. Three days ago, a messenger from one of the outlying territories came to the city demanding an audience with the King. This morning, the sound of hammers forging steel into weapons could be heard at every smithy in Tradesman's Quarter. The possibility of war is all too real. I'm thinking of going north, out the city, maybe out of the Realm. It's not that I mind killing, it's just that I prefer to do it on my own terms, alone, and for gold.

I'm leaning back in a chair, with my back against the wall and my feet on the table in front of me. The people around me probably think that I'm staring at my boots, drunk or lost in thought.

I am thinking, that's for sure, and in a way, I guess that I am staring at my boots. That doesn't mean that I don't know what's going on around me.

Over at the bar, a short figure in a long cloak just slid a small pouch to the barkeep The barkeep pocketed the pouch, nodded toward me, and turned away.

The stranger in the cloak is coming this way. I can see him right over the tip of my boot. He'll probably think that these worn old boot have seen better days. I disagree. When I was nineteen, I stole these boots from the house of an assassin. They've served me much better than they did their original owner.

When I think of the boots, I smile, but only for a second. smiling changes the youthful look of my face. It shows a few of the wrinkles and scars that I've collected over the last thirty some years. That will never do. In my business, appearances are everything.

The stranger in the cloak is about five paces away. That's close enough.

"What?," I say in a flat monotone.

He's staring at me now, straining to make out my features. I know exactly what he's seeing, just a dark figure leaning back in a chair. More of an outline that anything else.

He takes a step closer, around the table, and to my right.

"I won't ask again stranger," I say, a hint of menace in my voice.

"A thousand pieces of gold to talk outside," he says.

"You don't have that kind of gold with you stranger." "Gems," he says, as he pulls aside his cloak.

There's a pouch tied at his belt. It's bulging with something. Probably gems considering that the barkeep hasn't killed him yet.

"What's to stop me from taking those stranger?" I ask.

He shrugs indifferently. "I suppose you could try." Time to teach this fool a lesson.

Before he can move, I leap at him. The boots make it easy despite my awkward position.

I slip a dagger out of my sleeve as I move. It's nearly at his throat when something solid smashes into my groin. I vomit as I'm slammed back into my chair.

When the nausea passes, I look up. The air in front of me is shimmering, taking shape. The shape of...a man.

"Sorry I had to do it his way Thaldon," the shimmering figure purrs. "Go with him."

I know the voice.

"Dangar?" I croak, as the apparition fades.

The cloaked stranger turns and walks away.

I scan the crowd as I follow him to he door on unsteady legs. No one seems to have noticed what just happened. What in all the cursed god's names is happening here? Dangar's been gone for well over ten years. Who's under that cloak? Why hasn't anyone noticed any of this?

The cloaked figure leaves the tavern and keeps walking. He doesn't look back. I follow. He goes a good fifty paces with me at his heels.

Abruptly, he turns and speaks, "I am Rendell, a follower of Dangar, Mage of the Southern Forest. I have been sent to ask you to meet with the Mage on a matter he thinks you will find interesting and profitable."

He opens his cloak and takes the pouch from his belt. I can hear the faint tinkle of gems touching. Slowly, he tosses the pouch toward me.

In one smooth motion, I catch it and slip it into my tunic. catch it and slip it into my tunic in one smooth motion.

"Another thousand if you follow me to the meeting place," Rendell says.

"Meeting place?"

"Two days ride south. Dangar is there."

"Gems first."

He tosses me another pouch. I bounce it in my hand. Judging by the way it feels, I'm willing to bet that it's full of gems. I tuck it away with the other.

"I've got two horses near the south gate," he says.

"Lead on," I reply.

We reach the south gate without incident. The horses are fresh and strong. We mount in silence and leave the gate at a fast trot. The evening is still young, the gate guards pay us little mind.

It's late when we reach a small grove some miles from the city. He dismounts and says, "Let the horses graze, they won't stray far...."

I spread a blanket at the base of a large oak. I like to have a good, solid thing like that at my back. I'll sleep well. I don't have to worry about Rendell. I'll be on my feet, dagger in hand, at the snap of a single twig, one of the benefits of training and experience.

"We leave at first light," he says, as lays down on his blanket.

I wake just before dawn and nudge Rendell with my boot.

"There's food in the packs on the horses," he says.

The horses are nearby. I get the food and we eat in silence. We're back on the road quickly. We ride till late in the night, stopping only briefly to rest and water the horses. There's little traffic on the road, and none but us headed south.

Halfway through the next day, we leave the road and pick our way through the woods. The going is slow. As the last light of day is fading, we top a small rise. There is a camp just over the far side. Armed elves meet us as we near the camp.

"The Mage will be with you soon," one of them says.

I scan the camp, taking stock, and count maybe ten elves, a dozen horses, and a half dozen mules. A half dozen sacks lay beside the mules.

A tall thin figure is leaving the camp and moving towards us. I recognize Dangar as he gets closer. Fifteen years have not changed his looks. Elfin folk can live to be over a hundred.

"Thaldon my friend, it has been a long time," he says.

I nod. "It has."

"My apology for the incident at the Inn," he continues. Your reputation marks you as a dangerous man. I didn't want you to kill Rendell."

"I wouldn't say dangerous," I reply, looking toward the guards and then back at Dangar.

"Thaldon," he chuckles. "Modesty has never suited you. You're the best assassin in the entire Realm. I know. I've heard the tales and talked to the people. Even Daldes says that you're the best."

"Assassin?" I ask, again looking toward the guards and then back at Dangar. "I've been called a lot of things but, never that."

"You worry needlessly my friend," he says. "They can't hear a word we say. I've taken care of that."

I nod, standing so that I can see both Dangar and the guards. If they can hear us, they don't show it.

"Daldes is a corpse," I say.

"Of course he is," Dangar replies. "You snuck past his guard, foiled not one but three magical traps, slipped a poisoned dagger neatly into his chest, and stole his boots. And that was over ten years ago. With the practice you've had since then, you're almost unstoppable. That's the only reason the assassin's guild hasn't killed you. They don't permit rogues like you to operate outside their guidelines...unless they can't stop you. The rumors say that you killed two of their men who tried."

I keep my face blank, concealing my surprise. "You're well informed. Am I supposed to guess at your fortunes or will you tell me those too?"

"Ah... Thaldon. There is so much to tell, but I'll be brief. We must get to the business at hand. When Goldsen lost the crown and our families fell from grace, my family fled south. Elfin blood made us welcome, fortune made me a mage. Ambition made me a leader. I've united all ten elfin settlements in the Southern Forest. We're ready to expand. I want the Realm. I've never forgotten what happened when dear Roland's father took the crown. He made me an outcast. Now I'm ready to be a king."

"Where's my place in this?"

"You," he says, "are in need of a new beginning. I am here to give you that chance. It's time you quit living in the slums and return to the life you knew, we both knew, in our youth."

"Go on."

"Do you see the sacks by the mules?" he asks. They are full of gold. A fortune by any standard. Enough for you to buy respectability and live as you please, anywhere. The gold is yours if you kill Roland."

He holds my gaze, looking for a reaction.

"How much time do I have?" I ask.

"Three days, maybe a week. As we speak, Roland is meeting with his Lords in the palace. He will ask for a renewal of their oaths of allegiance. Once they swear loyalty, he will announce that the forces of the Realm will march on the Southern Forest to quell the elfin insurrection. I want him dead before his army marches."

He pauses. I review his words in my mind. Kill Roland...

"You see," he continues. "Roland and I are very much alike. He has under his command, the united forces of the Lords of the Realm. I control the combined forces of the elfin settlements. Roland has no rightful heir. When he dies the Lords will battle for the power. They will form allegiances, the strongest of which will put a king on the throne. If I should die, the elfin coalition will dissolve."

A look of irritation crosses his face. He falls silent, running a hand through his hair.

"Thaldon... You must understand, I am not a tyrant. I do not wish to terrorize the subjects of the Realm, I wish to be their king. I want the Realm and the Southern Forest to form a vast, powerful, united territory. For this to happen, Roland must die."

I smile. "A fortune in gold is not easily passed up by one in my position and profession."

Dangar nods. "I will leave here when you do. I will return in three days time and remain for one week. When the deed is done, return here for your gold."

"I'll need five thousand croats before I leave."

"Take a sack," he answers, nodding toward the mules.

"I'd prefer gems."

"Gems?" he questions.

"I do this my way, no questions."

Nodding, he turns away muttering as he rubs his temples.

One of the guards Jogs back toward the camp.

"He'll fetch them," Dangar says as he turns back toward me.

"When I return," I say, "I will not look as I do now. Do not be alarmed if I look younger. Much younger. And please, keep the guards close to camp. I don't want many people to see the man who killed the King."

"I'll wait with only two men," he smiles. "My magic will protect us while we wait, and when it is time to leave this camp, only the two of us will ride away."

The guard approaches. Dangar weaves a pattern in the air with his fingers. "Thank You Ogden," he says, as the guard hands him a half full sack.

He hands me the sack. I open it to find four sizable pouches, all are full of gems. I nod and close the sack.

"Fair enough. I ride at dawn, but for now, I rest."

He nods.

I walk to my horse, unpack the blanket and spread it on the ground.

"Rest well my friend," he says, walking back toward his camp.

I note that two elves are on guard duty before I let myself sleep.

I wake before the others. I pack and leave in silence. If I ride hard through the night, I can reach the city by noon tomorrow.

After two hours on the main road, I overtake a small band of travelers. They have an old wagon packed full of their belongings. As I pass, an older man looks toward me and smiles a grim smile.

"Riding that fast, I'd have to say that your fleeing the elves too," he calls out.

I reign in to keep pace with the wagon.

"The city seems like a safe place to be now eh?" I reply.

"I hope," he says. "They've got the lands bordering the forest. I've never seen such butchery. My wife... in the wagon... they... " he stops as sobs wrack his body. "I... I hope she lives," he sobs.

I drop back and in look in the wagon. The bed is black with dried blood. The cloth wrapped figure lying there looks dead already. It has only one arm. A slow trickle of blood seeps from bandages on the bloody stump.

I spur my horse into a gallop and pass the wagon without another word. War is so ugly. Not at all like what I do. I don't torture and maim. When I kill, I do it quickly and with honor. It is not random murder. Women and children are not butchered. Men are not killed for sport. Dangar's wishes may be good, but solders are difficult to work with. Things get sloppy. People die.

The night passes quickly on the road. The horse is panting heavily. It won't survive this trip, but I knew it wouldn't. A small sacrifice in the name of time. It 1S important to reach the city quickly. Time is short. If the price on Roland's head weren't so high, I'd demand more time to plan this.

Four more hours on the road and the horse is stumbling. It doesn't matter, we're close now. I dismount and walk the horse into the woods beside the road. I dispatch him quickly. With the sack of gems over my shoulder, I walk the rest of the way to the city, arranging myself along the way. A little dirt here and there, a few tears in the shirt and cloak, sad eyes, and hunched back. I look old and tired by the time I reach the city. It is just past noon.

In Merchants Quarter, I buy a new cloak and a bit to eat. Back in the Commons, I go to Tenbro's Ale House.

The barkeep raises his eyebrows in question, when I come in.

"A tankard of ale?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Aardo."

He nods and walks off. I sit at the bar. A few minutes later, the barkeep returns. A stout man with a big barrel chest follows him.

"Aardo," I smile.

He circles the bar and gives me a hug. Aardo is a good man. He runs a brothel, but also lets friends looking for a quiet place use the rooms.

"A room," I whisper.

"Ah my friend," he bellows," as he straightens up. "It is good to see you." He slips me a key as he clasps my hand.

"I must go, but I wanted to see you first," I say. "I'll be back tonight."

He laughs. "I'll be waiting my friend."

I leave the Ale House and circle to the rear. The boarding brothel isn't far. There's a private entrance to every room in the building. I slip in unnoticed. There's a lot that I need to find out, but sleep comes first. The sack of gems serves as a pillow.

It's mid-evening by the time I wake. I empty the sack onto the bed and spread the gems out evenly. With the sheet pulled up, they'll go unnoticed unless someone sits on the bed. That won't happen here. I toss my old cloak on the table to ward off any unexpected intruders. No one violates privacy at Aardo's.

In Merchant's Quarter, I stop at the Cavalier Tavern, and take a small table near the bar. I eat and I listen. Young aristocrats frequent this place. They know no discretion. I almost chuckle thinking about it. I wouldn't fit in with these people anymore, even if I wasn't an outlaw. Twenty years in Common Quarter changes a man.

"I say he'll announce tomorrow," a tall fellow toting a long-sword screams at the fat knight next to him.

"And just how would you know so much stable boy? I'm one of Lord Tengrill's knights and I've heard no such rubbish."

"Well brave knight, not two hours ago, this groom just happens to have brushed the King's horse and polished his leathers."

"I'll drink to the King," the knight replies.

Their words nearly choke me. I've got to move, now. I finish my meal quickly and make haste to Common Quarter. In an ill lit and foul smelling cellar, I find the man I need.

"A dagger Rexan," I say to the young dwarf. He's fifty years old, but dwarves often live to two hundred. youngster, he's got connections.

"Fifteen hundred croats".

"Fifteen hundred? You must think I'm a fool."

"Fifteen hundred. I've got a cache that just came in from the south. Elfin steel, blessed with farie fire. The best."

"From the south?"

He smiles a curious little smile. "Dwarven folk don't kin with the elves, as you know, but the elves are coming and magic rides in their stead. The elves are going sack this city when they defeat Roland. I'm leaving by weeks end."

"Defeat? Roland has the strength of the Realm behind him. His forces number in the tens of thousands."

He frowns and lowers his gaze to the floor.

"Roland will lose."

"Lose?"

"Cromwell hasn't come to the palace."

I stand quiet, shocked by the news. Cromwell holds the largest Barony in the Realm. His forces nearly match those of the King. If Cromwell doesn't march, the other Lords will balk. They'll ride home to protect their lands.

"That's not the worst," he says. "The southern mage bears a half moon on the back of his left hand. He follows Togi, God of Black Arts."

I'm confused. "Black Arts?" I thought elven magic is pure, derived from nature."

"Most is, but not all," he replies. "Those that follow Togi make sacrifices for their power. In times of war, they collect the left arms of their victims and burn them to gain Togi's blessing. When the mage comes, this city'll be a blood bath."

An image of the woman in the wagon flashes in my mind. Dangar's words echo in my head... You must understand. I am not a tyrant. He and I were friends, but we were children then. Still, I have no reason to disbelieve him. I rode off with seven thousand croats worth of his gems, but I know better than to take chances.

"Rexan, I'll take two daggers."

His eyes gleam. "Three thousand croats."

Greedy little dwarf' Fifteen hundred for the pair."

"You rob me' Twenty five hundred."

"Two thousand."

He shrugs. "If I wasn't leaving town, I'd send you away empty handed thief, but under these conditions, I'll sacrifice."

I hand over my two small gem pouches.

He pulls a pair of finely crafted daggers from under a nearby counter, and holds them out, pommels facing me. When I take them, he points to a battered helmet lying on a nearby table. "Test them on that," he says.

I flip the daggers around, so that the blades face me. They feel good. Perfectly balanced. I throw them both at once. They strike the helmet side by side and sink to their hilts.

I sigh. "Impressive steel."

"The best," he says.

Back in my room, I take the gems from he bed and put them back in the sack. I review my plan. I'll make the hit in Royal Square. It's right out in the open, but it's also very predictable. The Royal entourage always enters the square in exactly the same way. All but two of the King's escorts ride to the stage with him. While the speech is given, the two escorts not at the stage wait about forty paces away in the street. The whole city understands. As long as those guards stay in the street, the citizens leave enough space for the King and his escort to leave the Square. This is done to aid the King should he need a quick escape from the Square. It will provides the perfect escape route for a bold assassin.

When the bed i5 clear of gems, I tuck a few into my tunic, take off my boots and lie down. I've got a lot of things to do by noon tomorrow.

I wake early and put on the tattered cloak. It has four leather scabbards sewn into it to conceal my daggers. I replace the two daggers hidden in the left side of the cloak with the two I bought from Rexan. I prefer to throw right handed, and don't want to waste time fumbling with the cloak should I need the second dagger. I use light twine to tie one of the original daggers to my left wrist. I cover it with the sleeve of my cloak. The twine will snap easily enough if I need the dagger. It always has before. The other dagger is used to pin the sack of gems to wall beside the door. Anyone opening the door won't find the gems unless the come into the room and closes the door. Not a very tricky hiding place, but it doesn't have to be. This is Aardo's place. I shave and cut my hair. That and a few other tricks make me look quite a bit younger.

When I leave the room, I go to Royal Square. I stroll through slowly, pretending to watch the carpenters finish the stage. The first alley way in Royal Quarter is only two hundred paces from the stage. Once I there, it's no hard task to reach Common Quarter. Satisfied, I stop at nearby ale house for a bit to eat. It's still early, but I eat quickly. The people will gather for the announcement several hours before the arrival of the King.

When I reach the Square again, there are already many people waiting. I take position about ten short paces from the stage, careful to keep near where the clear lane will be formed.

I watch the crowd and wait. All is as it should be. I stay watchful but relaxed. Two hours pass quickly as the Square fills. A fat man stops beside me as the royal entourage enters the square. There isn't time or space to work my way around him. I just have to deal with him when the time comes. Things are going to happen quickly, 50 I don't want to attract any attention right now.

Roland and his escort of Lords ride solemnly to the stage. Cromwell and several others are missing. The King dismounts and takes the stage. His Lords dismount and take their places beside him. A quiet comes over the crowd as all eyes fix on Roland.

"My people," he begins. He says a word or two more, but I don't hear. I scan the open lane. The escort has drawn up, facing away from the stage. All is perfect. I draw and throw the first dagger in a single motion.

It takes Roland in the throat. His word disappear in a splash of crimson as I smash my left forearm into the face of the fat man beside me. The weight of the dagger breaks his Jaw. I I easily knock him to the ground as I rush past.

The crowd is still as I charge into the open lane. I can feel my heart pound as I race toward the mounted escort. I'm nearly there when a leg darts out of the crowd and smashes into my shin. I roll as I fall and come up running.

A few steps later, I feel a tug on the back of my cloak. I glance back to see an angry man in pursuit. This has to stop. I tear the dagger from my left wrist and flip it at my pursuer. It buries itself in his chest and he falls to the ground.

The horseman is in front of my now. He's still facing away. I pull out the second dagger from the left side of my cloak. With a leap, I'm on the horse and plunging the dagger into the soldier. The fine elfin blade never slows as it passes through his mail shirt and sinks into flesh. A strong kick and the horse starts running.

As I turn into the first alley, I risk a look back. The other horseman is far back, but charging my way. He's too late. I'll never be caught in these streets. Quickly and easily, I make my way across the city. The guards never stir as I saunter casually out of the south gate.

On the road south, I pass many people headed toward the city. There are many stories about the elves. None of them are good.

Near dusk on the second day, I near Dangar's camp. I tether the horse a short distance away and approach the camp slowly. Dangar is there with two others and the mule train. I circle the camp to be sure that no others are hidden nearby. When I'm satisfied, I step from cover and call to Dangar.

"I trust it is done," he says.

"It is done."

"Good."

He turns to his companions. "Pack the mules and saddle the horses."

We stand in silence and watch the men. As they finish up, Dangar motions for me to follow, and moves behind the elves. He begins to mumble under under his breath and raises his hands over his head. As the elves fall to the ground, I see a red crescent etched on the back of Dangar's hand. My dagger slips easily into his back. He dies quickly.

It has now been three months since I killed Roland. Cromwell sits on the throne. The Kings soldiers still avoid some part of Common Quarter. The elfin insurrection has fallen apart. The Red Dragon i5 still a good place to be if you need time to think. I'm there now, sitting at my usual table in the corner. Dangar was wrong when he said that I should return to the life I knew in my youth. I has been too many years and too many things have changed.

"Thaldon," a gruff voice calls.

I look up with a grin as a balding older man approaches. "Yes, Yando?"

"What kind of proprietor are you? Ever since I sold you the Dragon all you do is sit in that damn corner."

James E. McWhinney is a Pennsylvania native, born in Pittsburgh PA in 1969. As a youth, he was encouraged to pursue his talent for writing but instead, he focused his attention on aviation, in an attempt to find a stable, well paying career. He earned an Associates of Science Degree, as well as his pilot's license, graduating with honors from the Community College of Allegheny County. After that, he spent a year at the University of Pittsburgh, before transferring to Carnegie Mellon University, where he studied Professional as well as Creative Writing. At present, he is considering graduate study in Creative Writing. Eventually, James hopes to earn a living as fiction novelist.

jma9+@andrew.cmu.edu