.
The black of the cave would have been intimidating to any human
but to Shadowpelt the shadows were home, he was safe and hidden from
the Killers in the dark. He ran on all fours through the inky dark,
clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, allowing the sound
to bounce back off the rocky walls of the cave. He was in a hurry, he
had to accomplish his mission quickly, it had been given to him by
King Gorger himself. Gorger was still basking in the happy glow of
killing the King and Queen of Regalia and wanted to wreck the morale
of the Killers even further, and so had sent his agent, Shadowpelt,
to carry out an action that would be a blow to the Killers that they
might never recover from.
His sixth sense finally caught what he was searching for, the sound bouncing off a long forgotten, half caved-in tunnel, which had been there since his land had belonged to the Diggers. The tunnel had been made by one of them; the almost imperceptible scratch marks of great claws could be seen by his echolocation. The climb was almost vertical but the rocks that had fallen through the passage gave ample claw-holds for him to clamber up.
Still he disliked being so far into his foes territory; the smell of humans permeated the air, even here so far below heir city of Troy.
Far above Shadowpelt, unaware of his presence, a child, no more than ten, played. A square made of small stone blocks stood in front of him, with miniature facsimiles of human soldiers and gnawers arrayed around it. A look of happiness seemed fixed on his face, one that was so infectious that even is grieving father, standing in the doorway, had to do so as well, if only for a second.
Christopher stood still, not wanting to disturb his son; he had just received word that the last defenders of Tarsus had fallen against the horde of King Gorger's Gnawer. His brother Stephan and his sister-in-law Judith were undoubtedly dead with them. He had no wish to destroy this happy picture of his boy at play but Catherine had said she would tell Nerissa of the tragedy if he told the boy.
He cleared his throat and his son looked up, still smiling.
"Henry, come here, I have something to tell you about your aunt and uncle".
Shadowpelt finally pulled himself through the mouth of the tunnel. It had been a tight squeeze near the end but he was near the city, past the patrol's that would have been his doom had they seen him. At this time the city would be going to sleep, all but a few soldiers would be in their homes.
He smiled to himself, revealing a startlingly white row of teeth set in his otherwise pure black form.
Perfect.
Nerissa hadn't stopped crying yet, Christopher couldn't see her but he heard an occasional sob echoing through the corridors of the house they were using during this visit to Troy. Henry was reacting the way he had himself, full of barely contained rage but keeping it bottled in. He was gripping the block still in his hand, the hard corners biting into his hand, drawing blood. Christopher immediately knelt by his son and hugged him tight, he picked him up, the block clattering to the floor as Henry dropped it, the corners now crimson with blood.
He walked out the doorway, heading foe the room where Catherine was, she had always been better at comforting Henry than him but, to Christopher's credit he had an odd knack for understanding Nerissa's odd moods and her occasional dreams that he considered prophetic, but no one else agreed with him yet.
Then he was broken out of his thoughts by a scream.
It was Nerissa, at first he thought she was still weeping but it was wrong, it sounded like terror in her voice, not grief.
Then he saw her running down the hall, red stains on her white dress. He ran to her and embraced her.
"Gnawer!" she sobbed into his ear, "it killed Mama!"
In another time Christopher would have sobbed as well but his children needed him now, he could grieve for Catherine later.
"Hide in there", he whispered in their ears, "and don't' leave until your told". They both nodded, running to the alcove in the wall he pointed out. He turned to watch them go.
And that was why he missed the gnawer.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!!
Why hadn't he noticed the girl? Shadowpelt thought, furious with himself. He could smell a pair of guards coming; they would be there in minutes. He had relied too much on his eyes in there, seeing only the woman bent over, not using his nose, not smelling the girl she embraced, the girl now running for her father.
"Damn it!" he squeaked under his breath.
The he noticed. Christopher standing in the corridor, back turned. An ignoble way for a warrior to die surely, but he was an assassin, it was his task to kill, not allow his target a noble last duel.
Shadowpelt then leapt through the air, claws and teeth ready and sliced into his foes back without ceremony.
His task accomplished he licked the blood from his claws, feeling quite satisfied. He could smell the children in their alcove to his left, but with soldiers on the way he had to flee immediately.
And so he did exactly that.
Two days had passed since Christopher and Catherine had died at the claws of the Gnawer assassin. Henry was still trying to get to grips with it.
His parents had been so strong, so good and they were ripped away from him so easily.
His mind whirled and raced different thoughts and ideas coalescing and disappearing so fast that they didn't register in his head, but one kept surfacing as often as disbelief at his parents' death.
Recognition of the Gnawer's power. He had to be safe, and as his parents' example had shown, humans were weak, Gnawers were strong. He wanted to be safe, to have power, and only might brought power in the Underland.
He would get power with the might of the Gnawers.
But how to contact them?
Shadowpelt was happy, he was almost back at the caves where King Gorger held his court. He would have great news to give to Gorger, and doubtlessly great rewards awaited him for his service.
The plan had done well.
But the Gnawers wouldn't know just how well for some time yet.