Disclaimer: I don't own Neopets the Darkest Faerie

Chapter 25

Tor's feet abruptly hit solid ground and he barely managed to stay on his feet.

He was shocked to find that the Assassin only tumbled ungracefully to the ground, hitting the stonework of the darkened chamber they had come to with a heavy thud. His rapier skidded away, far out of reach, but the gelert made no move to go after it.

Around them candles sparked to life, the magic sensing their presence.

But there was no time to more carefully observe his surroundings. Tor shook himself free of the strange feeling the travel had left him with and stepped over to the Assassin. He was rising up to his knees, gasping for breath in a painful sounding way.

Only then did Tor notice the hilt of a dagger jutting out from the gelert's hip. He didn't know how or when Roberta had managed that, but she had most likely saved Tor by doing it. The knight raised his sword, placing the tip beneath his enemy's chin, forcing him to look up with eyes that only showed defeat.

"So you got me," the Assassin said scathingly, coughing as he did. It was a gurgling cough, the sound of bleeding. "I suppose I have to say that you did well. Far better than I expected. Now, get it over with. I've lived too long."

Tor's lip curled. This was not the first time a foe had asked for their death, and it always disgusted him how one could be so welcoming towards their own end. Despite this being the man who had caused so much grief for so many, Tor was suddenly reluctant to take the life away just like that. There were too many questions surrounding this man. "Who are you?" he asked. "Who are you really, outside of what the books say? 'The Nameless Assassin' they write."

"That, boy, is unimportant." The Assassin growled.

"Tell me," Tor ordered. "If you are to die here, then let somebody know you."

"Speak to Seradar." Were the words that were spat out in disgust.

"Let me hear it from you."

There was an annoyed sigh, but the eyes were wistful as they circled the chamber. "My name was once Stonarch. I practiced magic beside Seradar for many years. We were close friends through childhood and into adulthood. We trained under the same mentor in Brightvale, but he was the favorite. My interests led me elsewhere, as he began the path to becoming the royal mage of the city. We didn't let it come between us for many years, long after I chose my life as an assassin."

"What happened?"

"I had many enemies. They began to go after those I loved. Like a fool, I thought that I had hidden her well, my fiancé. I left her in Seradar's care and continued about my work, creating more enemies, smarter enemies. They found her, murdered her before Seradar even had a chance to protect her, and left the body for him to find. I vowed revenge and I had it."

"But it wasn't enough."

The Assassin smirked. "No. I had already become what you see now. I wanted more bloodshed."

Tor applied more pressure to his blade. "It's time for that to end."

The lack of resistance was not shocking, though Tor supposed it should have been after everything that had led up to this point. There was no battle that he had been waiting for. When his blade was forced through his enemy's throat, he felt little. When the Assassin's body crumbled to ash within the dark robes, there was no feeling of satisfaction.

It was strange.

Following the defeat of the Dark One, Tor had felt lightened, joyous that the darkness had ended. Now there seemed to be no feeling at all.

The knight took a few moments to gaze around the chamber. It was empty save for himself, the ashes, and a single stone casket near the far wall. It had to be a casket, as Tor could not think of anything else it would be in this place that did not seem to have any visible exit.

He approached the coffin slowly, already having an idea of whom it belonged to. A single word was etched into the marble, a name.

Uvani

Below that was the design of a rose. Simply done, but Tor could see the effort in it. He glanced back to the ashes and a feeling of sadness swept through him.

Inside the tomb would lay the body of the Assassin's, Stonarch's, fiancé. The reason he had delved so far into the darkness. This was her final resting place, as it was his, and Tor realized that this was what his enemy had wanted. He had come to this place to die and Tor's being brought a long was just a lucky accident for him. Otherwise he'd have suffered for some time from Roberta's stab wound.

Tor felt the need to leave. He stepped back quickly, his feet getting caught in the robes as he trampled over ashes and he fell back. Looking to his feet he saw an envelope, the seal broken and the paper yellowed with age. Feeling wrong even as it happened, Tor pulled a small scrap f parchment from the envelope.

My love,

The days only grow longer and longer as they pass and you are not here with me. I fear that soon they will be coming. Please return home soon. Please forget this contract and we can begin anew. I only wish for you to be next for me, to hold me in your arms again.

Uvani

…

Purple clouds faded around the knight as he stepped forth from the Shadow Plane and into the clear sunlight. The warm breeze that fell across him was a welcome change from the dark, cold, underground chamber. There were oppressive feelings there, unhappy and chilling. Everything about that place spoke of sadness and Tor was glad to be free of it.

But something about the situation still ate at him as he crossed the grounds near the lake, many eyes of soldiers following him.

"Tor!"

He looked into Turk's wide eyes. Shocked and relieved at the same time.

"He's dead." Tor said, answering the unspoken question. His voice was raised so that others would hear it and pass on the news. "Where is Roberta?"

Turk nodded in the direction of the medical tent that Tor had spent some time in with his wounded leg. "She was hurt pretty badly. Tor, you've been gone for days. Where were you?"

But Tor was already walking off to the tent. Days, Turk had said. He'd only been in that tomb for the better part of a half an hour. Either Stonarch—now that Tor knew the name and had heard and read what he did, and after everything that had taken place, the name felt right to use—had bent time to move faster as he travelled, or time moved slower within the tomb.

He ducked under the flap of the tent, not bothering to announce his presence. His eyes zeroed in on the sorceress, sitting on the edge of her cot, shoulders slumped wearily. She was wearing a pair of cotton trousers and a shirt that had been cut above her midriff which was covered by a bandage.

Roberta stood when she saw him, leaning with her hand placed on a small table with several empty vials atop it. "Tor," she murmured as he came forward, wrapping his arms around her with relief. "We had begun to think that you were dead."

"I thought the same of you." He said quietly. The knight held up a bloodied dagger. "You probably saved my life.

"Is he..?"

"Dead."

"Where did you go? It's been two days."

Tor didn't answer straight away. he looked over her several times, still thankful to see her again, alive and, while not quite healed, but well enough. She stared back, waiting patiently for his answer.

"I… couldn't quite tell you. Somewhere underground, a tomb. He told me there who he was, why he had become what he did. It was her tomb, you remember the story? It was her, Uvani's resting place. In time, that last shot you got in, when you stabbed him, it would have killed him. He asked me to do it, though. He wanted me to kill him there."

Roberta looked at him with concern. His sentences seemed jumbled and hurried, so much information to tell and he was trying to get it all out as quickly as he could. "Are you alright, Tor?"

"His name was Stonarch."

"What?"

"The Assassin. That was his real name. He was—"

Roberta gripped his arm, the small gesture quieting him instantly. "Tor, relax. Okay? You can tell me everything else later. What's important now is that he is no longer an issue. You need to rest."

Tor had no argument as he was led to the cot she had been occupying. The small bed suddenly looked so appealing. His last rest seemed so long ago.

….

One month came and went.

Neopets returned to their respective homes with the threat having passed. Sir Luthor had become Meridell's Man-at-Arms with Master Torak gone and was getting used to his new title of 'Master'. Remaining werelupes fled back to their original woods under the more peaceful reign of Alcasar. The Ixies moved farther back into the steppes where they remained unseen, but undoubtedly plotting their next raid, as was the cycle that the villagers of Cogham had ceased to try and stop.

Roberta returned to Brightvale again, healing slowly but surely from her wound while refusing any aide with the preference of letting it happen naturally—much to the servants' ire.

And Tor went home to the farmlands for a few weeks of respite, to be in the presence of old friends and family and to lose himself in the honest work of a farmer for a while before returning to Meridell once again.

The knight ambled his way into the barn, a bucket of water in his hand for the uni he had borrowed from Meridell's stables. Sandy was her name, and she snorted in delight at Tor's appearance, but he smiled ruefully at her.

"I know girl, you want to get out. Just a few days longer."

The uni huffed and steeped her neck away from him. Tor couldn't help but chuckle at the display of annoyance as he stroked her mane.

"Tor," Hubert greeted, walking into the barn. "A courier is here." The lupe made a face. "The boy refuses to hand over the letter to any but yourself. I expect he would wait here for days before giving it up."

The courier was a young techno, blue in color. "Tormund Ellis?" he questioned as the knight drew closer.

"Aye," Tor nodded.

"A letter of the utmost importance from the Lady Roberta of Brightvale." The courier stated, holding out the envelope, sealed with Brightvale's crest.

Tor,

I do not know if the rumors have reached the farms, but there has been word from lands distant from our own. They confirm what Dolosuno said of the Assassin's power reaching out, but also that his influence still stands. Uprisings are happening across Neopia, the Lost Desert specifically seems to be getting the brunt of it, and many are apparently seeking help, ours in particular.

As I said, these are only rumors that I have heard from traders. I wish to speak to Dolosuno as quickly as possible as find what he knows about this. If his contacts are as good as he claims, he might be able to tell us something useful.

I'm sorry to cut off your time with your family, but I ask that you meet me in Meridell so that we can figure this out. If people need our help, it's our obligation to give it, right?

Roberta

…

She was already there when he arrived late in the night, leaning idly against the city gate, conversing quietly with Guardsman Oliver. Both greeted him with smiles, although upon walking deeper into the city, Roberta's faded into a serious frown.

"I'm sorry, you must be tired, but—"

"It's fine," Tor assured her. "How have you been? Your wounds, have they healed?"

She nodded. "Yes, thankfully. I've been grateful for the time of rest as well, as short as it lasted."

Tor hummed thoughtfully. His trip back into the city had given him some time of thought over his companion's letter, what dangers had been implied. If the rumors proved to be true, which soon they would know, then it would be some time before they could have a good rest.

Defenders of the Realm, they had been named by the Faerie Queen Fyora herself. If Neopians, no matter what lands they occupied, were in trouble, then it was their duty to help. It did not only apply to the land between Meridell and Brightvale.

Roberta pulled up her hood and Tor did the same before they ducked into the alleyway.

"We are getting a drink after this, right?" Tor muttered. Roberta smirked in reply and the knight rapped on the door.

….

"I've been expecting you."

A small breath of dry laughter escaped Tor. Of course the master thief had known they would be coming. The job of a thief was to be the eyes and ears of the city, to see everything, hear everything, and know everything. "Then you know why we are here."

Dolosuno nodded, looking at Roberta. "I do. And I can tell you from my own sources that the rumors are true. The assassin… Stonarch, am I correct?" he turned to Tor who nodded once. "Stonarch's influence was widespread, beginning shortly after the Dark One's defeat. It was mere weeks before he first appeared in the Lost Desert. Sakhmet and Qasala, once peaceful cities, are deteriorating from the inside."

"If Stonarch is gone," Tor said, "Why has it not ended then, as with the werelupes and Ixies?"

"Nobody there is able even to find the peace, or enforce it. Stonarch only gave the weak-minded a simple push in his desired direction, and that was enough. Neopets here, in our lands, are not the same as those of other lands. We seem to have a higher sense of loyalty, if I do say so myself." Dolosuno smirked, sending a pointed glance at Roberta. "With the exception of a few."

His words were loaded; a straight shot at Roberta—her father to be exact, a traitor if there ever was one. From what Tor had heard anyway. Roberta didn't speak of him, nor did she tolerate anyone else speaking of him. And she was seething in her seat just then.

"There is no loyalty stronger than what you see within this guild. Our brotherhood. Traitors are not tolerated here. And yet, we have lost a few of our desert brothers. That says much of what chaos has been created."

The thief picked of his quill and dipped the point into a bottle of ink. "As it would appear that the next move of Neopia's two greatest heroes is to make your way to the desert lands, I will help," he said as he scribbled quickly and elegantly onto a scrap of parchment. "This is a list of my brothers and sisters from Qasala and Sakhmet. When you arrive, begin by seeking out the guild. Learn these names and then burn it. I advise that you act with haste, before things get any worse than they are."

Tor looked over the list.

Tomos

Nabile

Peopatra

Nene

Darim

"No descriptions?" Roberta questioned.

"I assure you, there will be no need for it." Said the Sly One mysteriously. "Now that I have graciously offered you as much information as I could, I believe that Rory may have some rather valuable maps of the Lost Desert, all at a reasonable price…"

…..

"When do you think we should leave?" Tor questioned over their ale. They sat in the far corner of the pub, away from the other neopets that had gathered in for the night and retained a respectful distance.

Roberta hummed, staring off at the ceiling. "First, we must speak to the Kings of course. You are a knight of course, and an important one. You can't simply walk off. And my uncle may have a heart attack if I were to just disappear. We will need a ship and crew… not much of an issue really. Many trade routes from the Desert to Brightvale. We should try and make the preparations as quickly as possible. Before things escalate even more."

Tor nodded. "A month?"

"At the most."

The knight leaned back in his seat. His took a swig of his ale and smiled. "I did say that I wanted to travel."