Chapter 1
She was the council's weapon. Honed with skill, sharpened with pain and when drawn, ready to spill blood. Her father would be proud of... himself as he made her what she was today.
And what was she?
Some would call her a warrior who fights and protects. Some an assassin who kills at will without thought or reason. But she was neither and both and infinitely more. She was Darsharn. A member of the Black League.
Darsharn were both vampire and witch, trained to serve the council's will. With the strength and speed of an immortal and the essence of magic from those born with power, they lived to serve and dedicated their lives to the arts of killing. Their strength wasn't in numbers but in skill and that was divided into four houses across the land: House Draygon, House Gavion, House Lucian and House Obsidian.
Survival of the fittest that is what life is essentially about. The weak die, they all do eventually, and only the strong live on, until someone stronger defeats them. A vicious cycle some would say, but that is what life is.
To be weak is to have a flaw. You are scarred, broken and useless. Forever tainted by your own fragile character. Weakness is a disease and you must be careful not to cultivate it, else it will spread like some forgotten parasite and you will be helpless against its onslaught of mind and body.
Remember and learn. Forget and be punished.
To show emotion is a weakness. To show compassion is a weakness. To love is but a weakness. If your enemies should ever see your weaknesses they will wield them against you. This I assure you.
Therefore you must not have any, otherwise you will fall before them like a shattered pillar while they scavenge among your crumbled remains like vultures. They don't care about you, no one does. At the end you can only to rely on yourself.
You must become like steel, impenetrable. Break and be broken. There should be no room for anything in your life but duty, drive and dedication. Anything else must and should not exist. I will make sure of this. That is my duty.
Those were the words of Leeandra's father and words that she lived by almost religiously her whole life. He made sure she never forgot them. She was the head of the Black League, an elite and highly skilled group of assassins who worked for the Order, the most powerful members of the Council. They were trained to be skilled, efficient and unseen. No mercy. Mercy was for the weak.
Lee entered the training room in the Black League safe house, one of four in Atlica, or the Council referred to, The Dark Lands. What innocently seemed like one of the local Lord's manor houses was actually an assassins training center owned by the Order. The mother house, the central and most secretive location of the Black League was her father's own estate. The League answered to the Order, and therefore she answered to her father.
She slowly scrutinized the large training room, mentally checking if certain requirements had been met. Weapons lined the wood paneled walls, ranging from deadly sharp to deceptively blunt. There were weapons of every size and variety as it was necessary to be proficient in just about everything. An assassin could never be too careful, that way it was less likely you'd end up dead. It was a torturers dream and a victim's nightmare. To many of them it was home.
Her soft black boots made no sound upon the wooden floors, so those in the room were unaware of her silent entrance. Most were occupied watching an intense combat taking place in the center of the training room, yelling out encouragements or snide remarks. Others were engaged in some small hand to hand combat trying to flip the other to the floor. Roughly half wore the beginners training uniform consisting of a loose black pants, a white shirt and a black dragon over the heart symbolizing the Darsharn. The rest were donned in the full assassin gear, all black.
When you become a full member of the League the symbol of the Darsharn is tattooed upon your left wrist, marked for life. The black clothing on the two combatants in the middle signified that they two fully trained assassins, the fight promised to be interesting and it was also an excellent opportunity for Lee to check the progress of the assassin training in the Gavion House.
For many, the word Darsharn skirts ripples of fear down ones' spine. It was a word to be reckoned with, ignore it, and you pay the price. Five hundred years after the Dragon Wars and then after the Purge, the number of vampires were slowly becoming extinct. In a desperate effort to sustain their race the vampires did the unheard of and merged with the Dark Sisters, a powerful group of witches that had emerged during the Dragon Wars. The outcome was the Darsharn...vampires equipped with the dark arts. A force that would be forever remembered and forever feared.
Lee watched in interest as the assassins circled each other, their wickedly sharp swords drawn, each tense, waiting for the other to make the slightest hint of movement. They were both male, both tall with spiky brown hair, brothers by the look of it except one had piercing gray eyes and the other well, piercing blue. They were decent assassins, she mused as she watched them strike and block with rapid quick movements and cold calculated efficiency. The distinct clang of steel upon steel vibrated through the air and movement was accompanied with the crease of leather.
The gray-eyed vampire suddenly launched a series of forceful strokes, backing his brother up closer to the circle of onlookers that had formed around them. His brother, regardless of the sweat that glistened on his brow and the amount of brute force that was directed at him, managed to counter every attack. Tense anticipation riveted everyone in the room. After a stunning slice to his opponents head the gray-eyed vampire murmured something that was only audible to his brother, his eyes glinting like steel in the light, and his lips curling in a malicious grin. As his brother blocked the oncoming stroke his expression darkened with fury and his eyes hardened.
Lee shook her head slightly in disappointment as he suddenly pressed a furious attack. She suddenly knew who was going to be the victor of this match. She watched the inevitable as in an instant of blind fury, the blue-eyed vampire left his right side open and his brothers sword was quick to press against him, ending the intense combat.
"Do you yield Devon?" His voice was tinged with amusement and it came out slightly breathless from the fight. He was panting now, the exertion showing clearly on the smooth planes of his face.
Devon's fury was now directed more at himself for losing the match. "I don't really have a choice now do I Cain, with three feet of steel about to slice open my ribcage?" sarcasm dripped from his voice like venom, as he loosened his grip on his sword, letting it drop to the wooden floor with a thud.
Cain laughed easily and lowered his weapon with a graceful flick of his wrist. Devon was always so cheerful after combat training. The onlookers cheered Cain for his victory and bets were paid reluctantly.
Lee decided it was time she introduced herself. She slowly uncoiled herself from against the wall, a move that was almost predatory and moved smoothly towards the crowd of onlookers. She stopped as she approached the circle and tapped the vampire who was blocking her entrance with a gloved hand. He turned around, money he had collected in his fist. He was a novice, a beginner by his clothes and it showed in the arrogant expression habitually worn on his face. He was annoyed at being interrupted and a scowl formed slowly on his face.
Lee locked her gaze on his, knowing that her eyes were an unusual shade of violet and silver. "Move," she suggested, letting a trickle of her power into her voice so it sounded like fire and ice melded into one. The silver of her eyes licked up like flames, a warning and a threat.
The vampires leer slowly melted from face and as she took a step forward he scuttled out of her way. Not all Darsharn had the same degree of power. Some had more talent in the black arts and some had less. Lee's position as Commander of the Black League not only meant that she was a highly skilled assassin but also that she was one of the more powerful members. The only other person that outranked her in the dark arts was her second in command Rowena, though Rowena couldn't match her with the blade. Lee's first in command Rayin, manned the intelligence center of the League. Where he lacked in the dark arts, he more than made up for as a assassin, not letting anyone forget why he was given his title.
She approached Cain and Devon who were still bantering with each other, the wounds they had both gained now starting to heal. Cain who was the first out of the two to notice her, stilled, placing a warning hand on his brothers shoulder. The circle had now gone quiet at her approach, their shouts and cheers that had filled the room moments before now dulled to the soft hum of a murmur. She could sense their thoughts.
Who is she? She looks important Hope she doesn't start trouble If she does Luviree will take care of her
Luviree was the head of this safe house and Lee doubted she would show any violent inclinations towards her. Luviree had contested her a couple of years ago for the position of Commander and had always resented the fact that she failed to beat Lee in the arena.
This crowd of vampires saw her only as a young women dressed in Darsharn leather with night black hair braided into a thick rope down her back and silvery-violet eyes that were too hard, too wise, too knowing. They couldn't miss the hard set of her jaw that came when one had experienced the blood, salt and tears of life or the slightly haunted look in her eyes that had emerged from long endless nights filled with too many memories. But most of all, only a fool would ignore the aura of power and authority she wore like a mantle about her shoulders.
She studied Cain for a couple of seconds, watching him tense under her scrutiny, muscles locked and taut, visible by the black shirt he wore. Just as suddenly Lee transferred her gaze to Devon, his blue eyes just as weary. At the presence of danger both brothers made a subtle but dramatic transition from sparing combatants to assassins, their demeanor and stance changing ever so slightly.
"Do you know why you lost?" Lee directed her question at Devon, her voice soft as shadow and just as dark.
"Excuse me?" Lee smiled slightly, dangerously and proceeded to circle around him slowly; ignoring Cain and his piercing look.
"You're excused. Now, do you know why you lost? Or is your stupidity so great it affects you from understanding the question?" She came to a direct halt in front of him.
Devon tensed and his anger mounted. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled at her.
The silver in her eyes darkened and she leaned towards him, her words slow and distinct. "Would you like me to show you?" She was deliberately baiting him and wondered if he knew it.
Cain was studying Lee with open fascination as he watched her interaction with his brother. Who was she? There was no question in the way that she commanded and held everyone's attention in the room that she was someone of authority. Her presence emanated power and he realized suddenly that crossing her would be fatal. He watched his brothers anger mount. Devon hated losing, and especially hated to be reminded of it. By the glazed look in his brother's eyes he was on the verge of letting lose his power. Shit.
"I doubt it would impress me?" Devon bared his teeth at her.
Lee smiled. Cain shivered. "You're a poor excuse of an assassin, you handle a sword the way you probably handle other parts of your anatomy...without any great skill. Of course nothing would impress you. You don't have the metal capacity required for such intensive thinking."
The crowd snickered and it was then that Cain noticed the silver ring on Lee's left hand. Shock lanced through his veins, turning his blood into ice, a dragon ring. The Darsharn ring, one that only the Commander of the League wore. Blood and ashes!
"Devon...?" Cain tried to warn him in a strangled voice, but it was too late. Devon had gone way beyond breaking point. With a furious cry of rage Devon flicked the sword on the ground into his hand with his foot and with one smooth movement that came with years of practice brought his sword in a arc towards Lee's head. With impossible speed Lee moved backwards, the blade missing her by inches. Cain watched stunned as Lee smiled at Devon tauntingly, unconcerned that she was facing an enraged, armed assassin without any weapon in hand. Devon lunged forward intending to skewer Lee through, using his power to add speed to his attack. Lee side stepped Devon's thrust, rolled into his unprotected side and followed by snapping his rib with her elbow, breaking his sword arm and then smoothly moving out away from him.
The crowd was too shocked to react. Some vampires ran out the room, murmuring about getting Luviree. Devon groaned and fell to one knee, sword tumbling out of his hand and looked up at Lee with eyes full of hatred, surprise and fear. She gazed down at him, face impassive and opened her fist in front of her. She focused her power into her hand and a crackling energy of dark light danced dangerously around her fingers.
Although the Darsharn could use the dark arts, only few could handle the drain of energy that it required as it could severely disadvantage one in combat. The less energy, the less effective you were in a fight. Producing dark light was only for the highly skilled as it had enough energy to kill someone...instantly.
Devon froze at the sight of the dark light, licking like flames up and down Lee's fingers. In that second he knew exactly who he was dealing with, and exactly how screwed he was. He knew he was going to die, painfully, but quickly if he was lucky. Dark fire could burn someone's soul and you'd be in agony long after your physical body died. At least Cain was still safe. He was the only person in the world that Devon gave a shit about. Devon forced himself to look into the Commander's eyes. He wasn't going to die a coward.
Dark fire flew from Lee's finger tips, burning through the air, like death on wings. Everyone in the room watched paralyzed as it headed straight for Devon...then stopped an inch away from him. An inch away from consuming him whole and ending his existence.
Lee locked her gaze on Devon, meeting his clear blue eyes with her own. She took in the sweat that beaded on his brow and his heavy breathing. Her voice was soft, but no one missed a word. "Anger will kill you if you are not careful. You might not only risk your life, but the lives of others in the League. You are too emotionally charged; you are too fired and therefore, are more able to make too many mistakes. This is why you lost and this is why you will always lose against someone equally or more skilled then you. There are rarely such things as second chances. Remember that, because you might not get another one." Lee slowly closed her fist and the dark fire vanished leaving only traces of black smoke that ever spoke of its existence and releasing everyone in its spell. There was no doubt in anyone's mind of who she was and there was no chance that anyone would ever forget.