Assassin's Rise (16 page)

“Once more,” said
Roland, dissatisfied.

“No, finished,” said Li
Ho, and Roland did not bother to argue. “Tomorrow start with
throwing knives. Shoot bolt, then throw knife – one motion. When
bow and knives good, teach to use zhutou. When zhutou good, teach
to use fist and feet.

“Why not teach me
zhutou and unarmed now?’

“Because you move like
sick cow. First learn to move quick and have good balance, then I
teach close killing,” Li Ho said, and pointed to a wooden bucket
with a rope handle. “Take bucket and make full at waterhole. Run
all the way, not spill water. If bucket not enough water when back
– I send again. If take too long – I send again. ... Start
now.”

Flushed with
embarrassment Roland grabbed the bucket and ran toward the deer
trail leading to the waterhole.

Jeklor snorted as
Roland passed him.

Roland swore under his
breath.

W
eeks turned to months, months
turned to seasons, and the uneventful life in the woods started to
grate on Jeklor’s nerves. Roland spent everyday doing ... well,
whatever he was doing. Jeklor had never seen a man more determined
or working so hard, and frankly, it made him uncomfortable.

Andros and Dragon took
to the quiet life naturally, and they were satisfied working for Li
Ho and occasionally helping with Roland’s training. Andros had
turned out to be a surprisingly patient hunter, and using one of Li
Ho’s bows, he made sure that there was fresh meat every night.
Dragon again, belying his clumsy and slow manner, had made an
assortment of different sandals, and once Li Ho had showed him how
to use flax, wool and cotton, he had weaved them all heavy cloaks
for the winter, including more tunics, trousers and shirts than one
man could possible use in his lifetime.

It was not that Jeklor
did not appreciate what Roland and Li Ho had done for him, but he
felt that he needed something else. Maybe it was because he grew up
in the streets of Darma, used to the hustle and bustle of the city,
or maybe it was because he could find nothing to contribute as
Andros and Dragon did, because each day saw his spirit dampening
further.

And then, on one
particularly clear and cold morning, a flash of inspiration struck
Jeklor. After a quick conversation with Dragon – through which
Dragon had clapped his hands excitedly – Jeklor tied all the
apparel and sandals Dragon had made into a bundle, lifted it onto
his back, and set off for Drifters’ Hell.

*

Jeklor first visited
the wide platform where they had met Li Ho, taking care to avoid
the dark stain soaked into the wood. He had made good time and it
was still early morning – the benches outside were mostly empty.
Upon entering the tavern, a one-eyed bear of a man eagerly called
him over, his gap-toothed grin inviting Jeklor to try one of his
ales. Jeklor would’ve liked one, but he politely declined; he had
no coin ... yet.

Jeklor unshouldered the
bundle of clothes, and put on his best smile. A few moments later,
he had convinced the tavern owner that should he allow Jeklor to
sell his wares on the platform, it would serve to draw in more
customers for his tavern. Jeklor also presented the owner with a
free cloak and a pair of sandals, and after a long spell of arguing
and making up facts, he convinced the large man to swap his boots
for the sandals, and to take regular strolls outside so that his
customers could admire his new footwear.

“You sure this will
cure my limpy knee,” the man said as he pulled off his boots and
slipped his feet into the straw sandals, splaying his toes. “Quite
airy ...” he muttered, and took a few experimental steps.

“Not in one day,” said
Jeklor quickly. “But regular wear will improve blood circulation,
and the added freshness will please your wife. Before you know it,
your knee will improve ... with time.”

“Blood’s what thing
now?” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh ... your feet will
grow stronger, “Jeklor said smoothly.

“You don’t say ...”

But, as Jeklor left the
tavern, the owner looked rather pleased with his new cloak tied to
his shoulders and he had a small spring in his step. Jeklor didn’t
completely spin tall tales, however. He had also been surprised by
the softness, and even more than that, the durability of the straw
sandals ... although he weren’t too sure about its restorative
properties.

With a broad smile,
Jeklor set up stall close to the walkway leading up to the
platform. He neatly laid out his (and Dragon’s) wares before him,
waving and calling out to the villagers to come and try out ‘Dragon
East Apparel’.

The morning saw few
customers, most of them frowning at the straw sandals, but by the
afternoon the benches were filled with patrons, and the one-eyed
owner strolled between his customers, flaunting sandals and cloak,
loudly exclaiming that his knee felt better.

Wishful thinking or
not, interest in Jeklor’s wares suddenly increased, and coin
started changing hands. Jeklor had planned to move to a different
platform later, but business was so good that he stayed put.
Dragon’s weaving was of good quality; nearly as good as the outfit
that Li Ho had given Jeklor, and with the coming winter looming
around the corner the cloaks sold especially well. The sandals,
however, was having a slow start, but Jeklor didn’t mind. He had
expected it, and he counted on word-of-mouth from the new owners to
promote it.

Come late afternoon,
Jeklor had sold most of the wares, and the coin-pouch hanging by
his side had an inspiring weight to it. Customers had dried up, and
he decided to call it a day. Overall, the endeavour had gone much
better than he had initially bargained for, and he was pleased.

As Jeklor started
gathering the remaining items, two men approached him and he
greeted them with a welcoming smile. “Unfortunately, I am out of
cloaks for the moment, but will sure be bringing new ones with the
next time I’m here,” said Jeklor apologetically. “I do however have
these quality tunics, which I might add is one of its sort, and
guaranteed to dampen the winter cold, and these healing sandals
from the east. You have never known more comfortable footwear!”

The two men, however,
did not look interested in buying ... at all. They eyed Jeklor with
cold stares and one of them said, “Haven’t seen your face before –
you new?”

“I am,” said Jeklor,
quickly tying the remaining items together and lifting it onto his
back. “Just visiting for the day.”

“That ’splains it,”
said one of the men, and spat a lumpy wad of phlegm by Jeklor’s
foot. “You don’t put up shop without pay’en pritecson’ coin. ’Tis
right, eh Darse?”

“Dangerous times,
this,” said Darse, and snickered, “init so, Rael?”

Rael nodded and said
innocently, “Better pay up ’fore somethin’ happens ... dangerous
place it is – Drifters’ Hell.”

“Oh,” said Jeklor,
looking around him quickly, but the two men blocked the only
walkway. “And who might your benevolent employer be?”

“Say what?” Another
projectile shot from between Rael’s lips, landing next to Jeklor’s
other foot.

“Who do you work for?”
asked Jeklor, ignoring the flying phlegm.

“That’d be Lord
Agron.”

“A noble in Drifters’
Hell?”

“Nah, not noble,” said
Darse, “but Lord of the area.”

Jeklor appeared to be
in awe at the fact, and he kept his voice solemn. “And does Lord
Agron absolutely demand that I contribute to his funds?”

“You what now?”

“Must I pay?”

“No,” said Darse,
shaking his head slowly. “Lord Agron says ‘’Tis your choice.’ But
if something happens ...”

“... don’t blame Lord
Agron,” said Rael. “Y’er own fault not pay’en fo’ pritecson’.”

“I’ll keep that in
mind, gentleman,” said Jeklor and quickly slipped between the two
men and down the walkway. “Have a pleasant day ... ye’ cows’
arses,” he muttered under his breath.

Pouch clinking with
coin soon drove away thoughts of two certain idiots and Jeklor
broke into song as he walked, playing with ideas to expand ‘Dragon
East Apparel’.

*

A cool breeze rustled
the orange leaves, and bars of golden light striped the narrow
trail as late autumn sun shined through the treetops. Jeklor’s
throat was dry from his song, and he regretted not buying ale. But
thoughts of showing Dragon the coin they had made pushed his thirst
away, and his long legs ate up the distance, sandals (soon to be
widely sought after, he chuckled) clapping on the hard soil ...

And then a branch spun
through the air, whistling by his head. Jeklor cursed under his
breath. He had hoped that they would leave him alone until he next
sold Dragon’s wares, but no such luck.

“Arse and Rael, I
presume,” Jeklor said and turned around.

“That’s DARSE,”
bellowed Darse and then quickly said, “But we don’t know anyone by
that name, init Rael?”

Both men had scarves
wrapped around their heads, hiding their faces. Jeklor was glad to
see that neither carried blades, but each had a branch in their
hands. Jeklor dropped the remaining clothes and sandals next to the
trail and picked up a loose branch, twirling it in his hand.

“I’m tired and thirsty,
so if you want a beating, better not hesitate – Arse.”

Darse charged Jeklor,
the piece of wood held high over his head. He shouted at the top of
his lungs and swung the branch downward. Jeklor nimbly leapt to the
side and kicked out, catching Darse on the side of the knee. He
tumbled to the ground, his face ploughing into the trail.

Jeklor chuckled. He
wasn’t a thief (although a failed one, he reminded himself) for
nothing. Picking pockets since childhood had honed his
reflexes.

“Bastard!” yelled Rael
and threw his branch. Jeklor ducked and Rael grinned in triumph,
sprinting toward the bent-over man. Jeklor dived to the side,
rolled on his shoulder and swung his branch. It whacked Rael on the
back as he sprinted by Jeklor and he overbalanced, hitting the
trail with a groan and a thud.

“Enough yet, fellows?”
said Jeklor in a friendly tone, and did a little dance.

Darse and Rael picked
themselves up, their scarves lying forgotten in the dirt, murder on
their faces. Darse wiped blood from his face, his nose swollen. He
and Rael fanned out, their arms outstretched, hands clenching and
unclenching eagerly.

“From both sides this
time,” said Jeklor and grinned. “I’m impressed.”

“You just laugh it up,”
growled Darse. “Laugh it up, funny man.”

“Oh, I intend too,”
smiled Jeklor and took a light step backward as they charged him
from the flanks. At the last moment, they suddenly turned and
reached for Jeklor.

“Almost!” laughed
Jeklor as he jumped backward, but his foot hooked onto a tree root
and Jeklor stumbled. He desperately tried regaining his balance,
and just as he came upright, a branch slammed into his head.

Lights exploded in
front of him and Jeklor fell to his knees.

“Got him!” one of them
yelled, but he had no idea who it was. Jeklor tried covering his
head as blows rained down on him. A branch caught him below the ear
and it suddenly went dark.

“Not so funny now, eh?”
spat Darse and kicked Jeklor in the side for good measure, but
Jeklor did not move.

Darse grabbed the coin
pouch from Jeklor’s side, weighing it in his hand. His eyes grew
wide.

“Good haul?” said
Rael.

Darse grinned broadly.
He and Rael split halve the coins between them, leaving the
remaining coins for Lord Agron. “Agron wouldn’t know anyway,” said
Darse as he pocketed his share. “Between us, init Rael?”

“Sure is, Darse,” said
Rael, standing over the clothes and sandals Jeklor had dropped next
to the trail, seemingly deep in thought. Then he opened his
breeches and leaned back, swaying from side to side, making sure he
covered maximum ground.

Darse roared with
laughter.

R
oland sat cross-legged on the
wooden deck, his back polearm straight, the zhutou rested on his
thighs. His eyes were closed, his hands relaxing on his knees.

He could have been
sleeping, but Roland was acutely aware of everything around him. He
breathed deeply, what Li Ho had taught him during the day slowly
turning over in his mind. He was using a technique that Li Ho had
suggested as a way to help combat his weakness of over thinking. In
battle, the body had to react before the mind – it had to be
instinctive – but Roland had the tendency to plan out each move in
advance, and this technique was used to bury Li Ho’s teachings into
his subconscious.

Roland held his breath
and opened his eyes to small slits as he sensed a presence entering
the clearing in front of the cabin. Then his eyes shot open wide
and he jumped to his feet. Jeklor stumbled toward him, blood
streaming down his face.

Roland rushed over and
grabbed him by the arm, helping him to the cabin. “What happened?”
he asked, his eyes scanning Jeklor quickly, seeking wounds. There
was a tear in Jeklor’s cheek, and he was clutching his side, but he
saw nothing else.

Jeklor’s jaw clenched
and his lips pulled so thin that they nearly disappeared. At first,
Roland thought it was pain, but then he realised that Jeklor was
angry. Not just angry, he was livid. It was the first time that
Roland had seen the jaunty man truly angry, and he realised that
something serious must have happened.

“They pissed on it,”
spat Jeklor, his shoulders shaking. “They pissed on Dragon’s
work!”

Roland did not
understand but said nothing and helped Jeklor into the cabin. He
first wanted to stitch the tear in Jeklor’s cheek. He also thought
that Jeklor’s ribs were cracked or broken from the way he was
holding his side.