Chapter Four, The Golden Serpent

Up until the day I met Burnlou, I thought that the Golden Serpent tattoo on my arm was merely a magical family heirloom. Something that transferred from father to son, or grandfather to son, as in my case. Or possibly from daughter to mother, etc., though I haven't experienced that theory first hand, merely as a symbol of the Assassin's guild.

At any rate, I was in for many surprises, it would seem. For a few hours outside of town, as far west as I had ever been in my life, the tattoo started to itch. Not only that, but every time I looked at it, it seemed like the serpent had moved! I couldn't be for sure, as I didn't dwell on it much over the winter, being that I was a bit preoccupied with all of my Grandfather's effects, but now I could swear it was in a different position on my arm, though in the same general spot.

While I was pondering this thought, and trying to drive the wagon with my tattooed arm and scratch with the other, I looked up and found myself in trouble for the second time in my life.

A highwayman had positioned himself in the middle of the road, right in front of my wagon's path.

He was seemingly alone. Dressed in rather fine clothes, with a purple cloak, a garish purple hat, and a rather large purple feather in that hat. His embroidered gloves reminded me of the nobles I had seen once in a town fair as a child, and his horse was a very fast looking brown stallion, possibly with the fabled Wyrmnom blood in it's veins, for it was very large!

"Hail there boy! And well met! Stop your wagon and talk for a while!" he called to from ahead. Being that there was not much room at this particular point in the road, no doubt part of his ambush, I had little choice but to stop. But not before I looked about for sentries or other friends of this man.

I looked around, and not seeing anyone else, I stopped the wagon as far away from him as I could, forcing him to come to me. Proud of myself for setting him a bit off-guard, I boldly said, "And who would be the man to rob a poor innocent child on his way alone to see is distant kin after his family has died?" I asked, trying to shame him into leaving me alone. At this point, Kooraw flew off my shoulder and away into the woods, bringing a surprised look from the man.

"Two more, one right, one left, both have longbows and longswords." Kooraw so kindly informed me. "Excellent, mayhap we'll get to test my skills today for the first time." I thought back.

"What manner is this?! The highwayman said. "A boy with a bird, out in the woods alone? Going home to see distant kin after your family has died? Indeed." he said. "More like a petulant nobleman's child out for a joy ride in the cooks wagon!" he chuckled. "For your clothes belie a finery no "poor child" could afford." the astute man observed. "And I have never met a commoner with a trained Raven." he said, riding closer.

"Hest, Rogosh! Come out! It's just a mere boy!" the highwayman yelled to his companions, chuckling to himself. "Now, my boy, I trust you can afford to pay my toll…" the highwayman said to me as his companions put away their longbows and began walking toward the wagon from both sides.

"And how much would that be?" I said, standing up in the wagon platform, setting the break and tying off the reins, pretending to look inside my coat for my money pouch.

"But before I pay… what do you call yourself?" I asked him, staring him in the face.

The highwayman took it all in stride, riding up just before my horse, and said, "Some call me Burnlou. Why do you ask?"

"Because," I said, "an Assassin always makes it a point to know who's he's about to kill!" And with that, I sprang into action, much to the astonished men on either side of my wagon, looking on in surprise a the daggers suddenly flying toward them!

They didn't stand a chance! How bold I was, indeed! Young, stupid, and full of unrequited vengeance at the death of my Grandfather. How much I wanted to scream out at the world, to prove to it that my lineage was not dead, far from it!

A bold move, and one that would have been my death had the men been prepared. But being that they underestimated me, a seemingly noble brat out on a joy ride, they never got time to draw the weapons they should have had out. My youth disguised me, and not for the last time in my life, saved me against all odds.

For my aim was true, and both of my poisoned blades flew toward their mark. One, possibly "Hest", took my dagger full on in the neck. So surprised was he that no attempt to block it was made, and he died holding the gash in his throat.

The other, who must have been "Rogosh", was a bit faster, but it did not save him. For though he blocked the dagger with his hand, it penetrated his palm, and I knew that he would die before taking two steps.

Which is, after all, what the poison is named; "Two-Steps." I've heard some fools try to drink the stuff in taverns throughout the realm, and after drinking it and taking two steps, they die. This is what happened to Rogosh, as he came at me, fear and shock on his face, he held the dagger away from him, staring at it in horror as he died.

That left Burnlou, staring at me on his horse, amazed at what I had just done. He quickly recovered though, his face suddenly full of malice and anger at me that I had so easily just slain his two friends. "You'll pay for that, whelp!" he yelled as he rode up beside me, trying to pull me from the wagon.

This, of course, turned out to be his last mistake. Not because I managed to get another dagger out of my coat before grabbed ahold of me, but because he grabbed me by my right arm as I tried to twist away from him.

Because the tattoo had been itching, I had rolled up my sleeve to scratch it, which meant it was right above Burnlou's hand.

Then, it did something amazing. The Golden Serpent on my arm bit him!

The snake writhed and twisted, as though coming alive, and in his growing horror, Burnlou could only stare at it in rapt amazement as it rose up out of my arm and struck! Biting him right in the hand.

Burnlou recoiled at the pain, letting me go, and stared at the fresh wound on the back of his left hand. Then, in dawning understanding at the imminence of his mortality, Burnlou looked at me and said with his dying breath, "The Golden Serpent Lives!"

At that, he died on his horse, his eyes wide open, still in shock, and fell from his mount with a thud, staining his fine purple clothes in the mud.