The wind was howling through the dark woods, shaking the trees, making them groan. He had a hard time keeping his hold on the thick branch he had chosen as seat. The rough bark was hurting his hands.

Thunder rolled, and what was visible of the sky was covered in clouds dark as lead.

There was smoke on the wind.

He knew what was to come now, and he dreaded it.

Lightning struck the treetops ahead, making them blaze with bright fire at once. From the nearby trees the ravens fled, heading off into the dark sky, riding on the storm.

There was a deafening clap of thunder, and a garb of fire was shooting out at him to embrace him…

He let go of the branch, tumbled towards the ground helplessly, a silent scream on his lips…

… and found himself lying in a heap on cold stone, a roaring ring of fire closing around him to devour him. There was still a gap, one small gap… He dashed for it, but he was nothing but a small boy, he didn't have the strength for a sprint like that. Flames were leaping up from under his feet, licking at him greedily, ready to devour him…

And then the voices came, shouting from far off, but still close to his ears, and there was no way of blocking them out. "Get me that bastard!" "Hey man, know anyone by the name of Liviu Dinescu?" "No matter where he's hiding, he's still going to burn, and you all with him!"

Screams of rage, of wrath, of pain.

"Here, get that brat! He's running off!" A rough hand grabbed his jacket from behind, but he didn't turn, he just struggled on towards the rapidly closing gap.

Mom! Dad! Where are you?

The smoke was sending tears into his eyes, and the tears blinded him.

Somewhere in all the tumult and chaos the lion roared.

He fell over something, a body all smeared with blood, a body belonging to a swarthy man like one of the barbarians that came from the East. And beside the body, still moaning, but tossing and turning uselessly, twitching out of control… He had known that man, that man had been a friend of his parents', that man had been kind to him on numerous occasions, that man had led the pony around the arena, and on its back he had balanced… He distinctly knew that he would be doing it no more.

And the gap closed, sparks shooting up high into the darkened sky. He came to a stop in front of it, coughing because of all the smoke filling his lungs, his eyes burning, his throat so tight that he believed he was choking. His parents' voices filled the air, screaming, desperately calling for his help. But he was caught inside a ring of fire rapidly growing smaller, and there was no way out.

Something was clenched in his hand: a strand of hair, fluttering in the breeze created by the flames.

And then he was grabbed by his collar roughly, and a raspy voice hissed into his ear: "Say good-bye to this world, sonny…", and he mentally begged the attacker to kill him, and to make it fast, and at the same time he wanted to live, and everything was turning around him, all the world was a blur, the flames closed in on him, reached him, engulfed him…

He jerked upright in bed, drenched in sweat, his breathing going just as fast as his heartbeat.

"Anything wrong, buddy?" It was Knox, standing in the doorway in overlarge pyjamas. "Only I heard you gurgle and moan and stuff."

So at least he had not screamed. He shook his head to tell the man everything was alright, although he didn't feel alright himself, and hoped that he would see it in the gloom.

"It was about that guy you killed, wasn't it?"

He shook his head again. No, indeed not. There was far worse he remembered than Springfield dying. His parents dying, for a start.

The next moment he had to close his eyes as Knox turned on the light, and although it was a dim light, it was blinding after the darkness. "But you did have a nightmare, didn't you? Come on, I'd like to know what an assassin dreams about at the beginning of his career." And before he could react in any way, Knox tossed him notepad and pen. "There you are. Let me know what it was about."

The day my parents died, he wrote, direly hating Knox for finding him weak once more.

"Oh, I see. Nothing about the late Mr Springfield?"

He shook his head firmly.

"Now don't go telling me it had no impact on you. Your tough friend Benji Morgan himself told me that he was sick after his first kill."

Trust me, that day was much worse. He wished that Knox would let him be now, that he would just go back to bed and stop tormenting him with his own memories.

"Dear me, Tony. You are indeed an astounding lad. Two or three years and a bit of training, and I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alley at night."

He snorted. If that was all…

"Don't get me wrong, buddy." Knox sat down at the edge of the bed beside him. "I wasn't employing irony this time. I mean it. You have a future in that job, trust me. And I can offer you a future. I've been lying awake, and I've been thinking. You know what I was thinking about?"

Sitting with his arms around his knees, he shrugged. It seemed that Knox needed somebody to talk to, even if that one didn't respond.

Maybe Knox had been the one who had had a bad dream somehow related to Springfield.

"I'm afraid I haven't been honest with you, Tony. You know, when I pretended not to know a thing about you… The truth is that I knew quite a lot. I asked your friend, and he told me. He has quite an insight, that Benji Morgan. He can see you through. He told me what kind of guy you are."

He raised his eyebrows at Knox questioningly, knowing that he did both himself and the other man a favour thereby, himself by knowing what Benji had said about him, Knox by listening to him.

"Yes, of course you want to know." Knox gave him a little nudge in the ribs, and he had to bite his lips not to yelp with pain, for Knox's elbow had hit him precisely where the worst bruises were. "He said that you're probably the most cold-hearted creature that ever walked on earth. A lonely wolf, and glad to be one. Careless and cruel. But very good at hiding your nature behind a cute façade of shyness and awkwardness. And very sly, very cunning when you want to achieve a goal."

What? That was what Benji had said about him? Partially that might be true, but Benji would not mainly know him from that side. If Knox had been honest right now…

Now wait. Benji had to be the one who had not been quite honest. How much had Benji wanted him to get that job? Well, as much as his friend himself had wanted to get out of it – to get that other one where he got a lot more payment. So he had just concentrated on his very worst aspects of character.

You're such a mercenary, Benji.

But then again… somehow the idea of being described as the ultimate villain wasn't that unpleasant, after all.

"Of course that's not all", Knox continued. "You can be quite a dreamer sometimes, so he said. And I know what you dream about, too. Epic wars and great bloodshed." He laughed dryly. "He might have been right, don't you think?"

He shrugged. Maybe Knox was a bit drunk and exaggerated everything.

"But there was one thing about you that seemed to be of importance to him. He said that you would never turn on your friends. That you're loyal. A man of honour."

Completely right, he thought. I have always held honour high, just as my parents and grandparents wanted me to.

"I'll tell you something, Tony, my friend: I think that one day you are going to be the best among my men."

Although that constant abbreviation of his name was somewhat annoying, he felt that he should somehow react to that. Taking up the notepad again, he wrote: I will give my best.

Knox smiled as he read it. "That's my boy. And you will have to. Because there's an important plan I have. You know, I can be quite single-minded sometimes, especially about one thing." He paused and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "For the thing about your parents – you have my sympathy. I too lost my father when I was very young. He was murdered, murdered by his best friend. And I can't wait for the day when I'll make that traitor pay for it." All boyishness had gone from his face and was replaced by an expression of pure hatred. "One day… and I hope it will be soon now… and you will help me, won't you?"

He nodded dutifully.

Abruptly Knox stood up. "But I'm talking nonsense", he said. "You had better sleep now, and so had I." He headed for the door and put out the light. Yet in the doorway he stopped and turned back once more. "I just want you to remember his name. It's Charles Townsend." With that, Knox was gone.

He still sat there with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring into the darkness. Charles Townsend. If you wish…