The Path of Shadows

The perfect killer has no allies, just enemies.

PROLOGUE

The fortress wasn't big. The stone-walled building was only half a kilometre long and though the height was only two stories high, the four turrets seemed from afar to pierce the night. Attached to the end of each turret was the flag with an eagle spreading its wings, constantly flying in the high winds. A tall, average-built man in mottled gray robes smiled when he saw the eagles as he climbed the treacherous cliff. His blond hair was struggling to hold in shape against the wind. His handsome face with perfectly defined features was crumpled under the strain of climbing. His watery blue eyes were filled with determination of reaching the top to speak with the Shinga; the head of the Sa'kage. The most powerful criminal organisation in Midycru might be interested in hiring the best wetboy in the world.

After finally reaching flat ground, the man strapped a big sword as dark as night that he carried in a sack onto his back. He checked his belt hidden under the robes to find all seven small daggers sheathed. He drew out three and when he saw they were still tipped with white asp poison, he placed them back. He equipped one of the normal daggers to his left wrist, ready to bring it out in a flash if required. For all he knew, the Sa'kage may not like a wetboy so close in their midst. And only a fool walked into battle with no weapons. As he approached the solid, wooden gate, two guards stopped him. By their simple clothing of silk cloth stretched over their skin covered in thin metal armour, he knew they were just underlings. But his eyes were no longer fixed on their appearance. They were focused on the two short swords that could attack. Instead, he was surprised that when they noticed his face, they unsheathed their weapons and moved aside. Nobody knew who he was, except the high members of the Sa'kage, known as the Nine. No common person knew him and their reaction proved that wrong. It occurred to him now that the Shinga was expecting him and he was probably walking into a trap.

A woman sitting at the desk on the second floor in the conference room was writing a letter when her personal guard burst in. Her beautiful face shone in the light as she raised it. The dark, brown eyes always intimidated anyone who stared at them. It was the symbol of her authority. She finally stood up and put down the feather.

"What is it?" she asked impatiently. She did not like being disturbed when writing.

"Sorry miss," the bald man said quietly. "But he is here, waiting for you downstairs."

The woman looked at him in a puzzled way.

"Who?" she demanded. The guard's expression was frightened to even say the name.

"It is Durzo Blint miss!" he whispered. The woman's face matched the guard's.

Standing in the grand hall just after the entrance, the man was waiting for someone to show. He had only been waiting for a minute, yet he was already getting impatient. At last a sound came from the top of the stairs. A woman who looked about 26 years old, quite petite was coming down with a single, bald guard. Her figure had lots of curves and made her look sexy. Her breasts were well-rounded and were slightly tight against her cleavage.

"Ah, Durzo," the lady spoke. "I have been expecting you." The man looked a little confused and sensed a possible trap. His eyes darted around the room. When he noticed several shadows behind the six pillars supporting the hall, he replied angrily.

"If you thought that a small number of just six men can ambush me, then I am a little disappointed." The woman just merely smiled.

"It is you whom I am disappointed at Durzo, the best wetboy indeed!" With that, two doors on opposite sides of the hall opened and thirty more guards rushed in. However, the men only took positions at the woman's side and Durzo could still see her, right at the front of them. She hesitated before giving the order to attack.

"I am a little curious…" she started, "At how you managed to avoid detection before reaching our headquarters." Durzo could not help but smirk at her. Of course, there was a clearly cut path in the mountain that led up to the castle that was garrisoned with over a hundred troops. Since Durzo could not be bothered to waste his energy, he had taken the 'backdoor'. He thought to himself for a moment of telling her. 'Oh fuck it, it's not like she can stop me doing it again.' He managed to reply without releasing a hint of glee.

"I just climbed the mountain" he said casually. Everyone in the room had shock flit across their faces. The woman was the first to recover.

"You speak as if it took no effort, yet why did you bother? Any other wetboy might have been able to find a gap between the troops and pass through in disguise or stealth." she finished. The men at her sides had lowered their swords a little. Durzo looked quite offended.

"I am not like the other foolish wetboys trying to show off." he said. Just to show that he was not joking, the woman turned her head to see one of her guards drop dead on the floor with a dagger between his eyes. She glanced back at Durzo and saw that he stood exactly like he was a second ago, except that there was a dead guard and everyone in the room did not even see how it happened. The woman smiled.

"Very impressive, I am Gwinvere Kirena, also known as th-"

"Goddess of Pleasure," Durzo finished. "You have quite a small reputation in the Warrens." Gwinvere's eyes immediately turned cold. 'Did he just say small?' she thought. Durzo then gave a tiny smile to say he was joking. 'Well he certainly has a shit sense of humour.' She managed to straighten her face.

"Anything else you like to say so that I can speak without interruptions?" The wetboy seemed as if he was getting tired of talking.

"I am here to see Daydron, your Shinga." he said.

"Well I'm afraid he doesn't wish to see you so get lost!" she replied with a sneer. As Gwinvere turned towards the stairs, another dagger shot past, just skimming her left cheek. Her guards once again raised their swords, but were too frightened to attack. When Durzo spoke, his voice barely suppressed menace.

"I know that you are the Shinga Gwinvere!" The beauty that covered her face was instantly altered from shock. 'How the hell did he know?' she thought.

"How the heck did you know?" she demanded. Durzo grinned.

"Only a fool or a powerful person has the guts or nerve to tell me to get lost." The woman finally seemed to accept his skills. 'About fucking time!' he thought.

"Indeed with your impossible knowledge and abilities, you are very impressive. However, before you can be accepted in the Sa'kage, you must prove that you are really a wetboy." she said. Durzo's eyes rolled. And he thought he just did prove it.

"Who's the deader?" he asked. The word 'deader' was used by wetboys as an alternative to 'target'. Durzo Blint coolly thought to himself. Assassins called their marks targets, because they sometimes miss.