28 - Made To Measure

Sauren spent the next five days deliberating over the fate of Benjamin Morley. His recent discovery on the reprobate's behaviour along with the odd flashback to his youth when the apprentice tailor hounded him, helped drive the mechanics behind his thinking.

As the leader of a group of bullies, some of which were his "family", Benjamin took great joy in slicing at Sauren, be it his clothes or indeed his skin. Granted, he had used base tools such as flint and glass and tugged or tore at him until either garments or flesh were rent, but he had accomplished what he had set out to do. The half-elf battled with a concoction of shame and anger at his then inability to stop it. Nevertheless, there was a certain farcical irony that the boy had ended up as a tailor; and this fuelled a particularly gruesome sophistry in Sauren's mind.

He had discovered that Benjamin's unsavoury dealings had been with common brigands, reputedly vicious individuals if their black-market profits were trifled with. They, in turn, had sold the expensive fabrics along with other contraband to whoever was willing to pay top price.

Sauren knew it was pointless and extremely time-consuming trying to retrieve all of Mr Atherton's stock, but in the middle of the night on day three of his surveillance, he caught the name of the crook who dealt with Benjamin and managed to follow the last exchange.

With Don and Reed's help, he then took back what the apprentice had sold that day and all without bloodshed. It would not have been wise to invite the wrath of these outlaws; the Crimson Blade could not, at any cost, be associated with what Sauren had planned. But, at least he could put a stop to the old tailor's losses by ridding him of his unscrupulous apprentice.

He made certain the villains would think Benjamin had double-crossed them and would have in due course sought an audience with him. Sauren would save them the trouble with the added bonus that any suspicion about Benjamin's disappearance would lie not at his door, but that of racketeers. So, in keeping with the customary method of communication the apprentice would receive an invitation under the pretence, it was from his "business associates".

As for the Crimson Blade, as a whole, things were all back to normal at the guild headquarters. Sa'themar was gone on a mission with a select few, others were assigned different contracts which meant key individuals were gone from the complex for some time.

Sauren, while crafting his vengeance had suggested that he stay back to continue more training. That had been more than acceptable to his father as the guild master still viewed the boys as students for all their recent involvement since the siege.

"All is set for tonight?" Sauren muttered as the three of them strolled to their training area.

"Yes," Don replied. "He won't suspect a thing."

"And the note?" Sauren turned to Reed.

"Delivered in keeping with Torp's methods. I slipped it under the stone at the rear door."

"And you are sure Mr Atherton did not see?"

"Positive."

Sauren nodded approval, his long hair swishing before he pulled it up into a high knot. "I think we should practice then," he said as his eyes travelled up the new construct of ledges, platforms and beams.

There had been alterations made to the obstacle course, much to Sauren's delight and intervention. He'd felt it was a good way to thin out the strengths and weaknesses of students. Voicing his opinion on the matter had initially taken his father by surprise as the development of training was a task for those appointed to school the recruits. His ideas, however, were aired at a meeting in the missions room.

The subject was debated at length and at first, there was a mixed response from trainers. But Sauren persisted, his rational and progressive thinking finally being accepted as good policy especially when he pointed out it would save time and money not forgetting the effort afforded in training students. He argued that parents, or the few individuals paying their own way, did not spend their hard-earned money needlessly or indeed waste it if certain students were found incapable of fulfilling the criteria. The Crimson Blade, he proposed, must set the bar for all rogue guilds and students alike.

Now, he was about to test out the new rig and it couldn't have been at a more opportune time. The setting for Morley 's punishment would require the boys to scale certain heights and while none of them was particularly phased by the prospect, it nonetheless did no harm to ensure they were adept at managing such a skill.

Reed, of course, led the way – he was a natural. Don and Sauren nimbly followed on, small slips quickly corrected. The boys spent a good two hours practising balance, scaling the higher planes of the apparatus, perfecting their ability to jump and launch themselves from the dizzying heights. Sauren, nonetheless, remained sound of mind and kept himself and his two friends from becoming over-confident or thinking they were indestructible. He could not afford for them to think they were smugly apodictic; that in itself could jeopardise the evening's plans.

The day passed without incident, the boys had been studious indeed, paying attention to detail of their plan let alone their skills within the complex' training facilities.

A light meal was eaten before the three boys retired to their rooms and readied themselves for the night's task. The sun had dipped over the horizon by the time they emerged. They saddled up and rode out under the portcullis.

Some two leagues to the north west of the city a dilapidated farmstead sat on the outskirts of the Whispering Forest. A crumbling grain silo dominated the skyline. This was their chosen location.

They had surveyed it weeks before when they first hatched a plan to deal with Benjamin. With its layout emblazoned on Sauren's mind, he recalled every loose brick and those which protruded affording something akin to steps ascending to the shattered roof. Ropes connected to large wooden cogs which the boys had previously delivered to the site ran up to two beams, their excess coiled in place ready to be unravelled at the appropriate moment. A strategically placed counterweight was balanced on a ledge above the door, a mechanism designed to prevent the quarry from escaping once he was in the trap.

Now, however, in the dark, the structure looked menacing, to say the least and distinctly hazardous. Once Sauren retrieved his saddlebag, Don tethered the horses out of sight and then joined his friends as they entered the old building.

The sky was clear and the moon offered enough light through the rafters for them to pick their way around the old silo.

"Won't be long now," Sauren said quietly. His two henchmen stood beside him allowing their eyes to adjust to the inky blackness.

"Just to recap," Reed uttered. "We stay above until you signal?"

"Yes. I want him to think I am alone when he discovers the deception."

"You realise, once he does he will flee."

Sauren guffawed pointing to the counterweight. "He will try."

Reed shrugged, he had forgotten about that.

"Nevertheless, he won't go down quietly," Don said.

Sauren merely grunted and moved off across the dusty floor. "Places, gentlemen," he said. Pressing themselves against the wall Don and Reed climbed to the beams. Don settled in a crouch at the end of one. Reed took the second beam and scuttled across to the shadows. From their viewpoint they sensed, more than saw their leader behind a mound of bricks and splintered rafters.

Sauren opened the saddlebag. His fingers searched the contents; clothes to replace those he wore at present. The punishment he had devised for Morley was going to be bloody and he was not going to risk the same mistake he made last time. Tonight, soiled clothing would be disposed of out with the complex.

His lips curved in a malevolent smile as he found what he was looking for. His companions would be in for a surprise, for he had not divulged his exact intentions. He had merely let it be known that he would end Benjamin Morley this night and nothing more. He had given them a small role to play in the deed, saying he wanted their victim bound, but that was it. He was about to test their mettle too. Foundations, he thought. They must be set with everyone.

Night sounds such as the echolocation squeaks of bats flitting nearby, a distant owl calling on its mate and the rapid scurrying of rodent feet across the silo floor was all that could be heard. Morley 's approach would, therefore, be easily detected.

Sauren removed his jacket and lay it down over the saddlebag. He rolled up his shirt sleeves. For all the bite of winter's chill was in the air, he did not shiver from the lowering temperature. The shudders coursing through his body was caused by anticipation of dealing with this loathsome individual.

The repeated beatings he'd suffered at the hands of Benjamin and his brood of bullies when he was but a slip of a lad flitted across his mind. Many a time he'd been left in a bruised and bloodied heap, clothes torn and muddied. His mind then conjured the memory of that fateful day at Stanton's smithy when Benjamin was responsible for the loss of Sauren's horse. The images still burned his mind. His heart contracted when he recalled Shadow's panicked eyes as the beast lay impaled upon the iron rods. And now, Morley was cheating a reputable tailor of his livelihood, ruining the old man, bolt by bolt of materials. Benjamin's nature had never changed, only his tactics and his victims had.

The sound of hooves nearing the silo drew Sauren from his reverie. He was here. It was time. Although the shadows concealed him amply enough, still he melded, absorbing his surroundings. He glanced up and saw his two friends do similarly as they waited, poised next to the coiled ropes.

His eyes focused once more on the door as it swung open on rusted hinges. Benjamin stood holding a lantern in his hand. His head turned side to side as he scanned the room within the range of the light's beam. In a voice barely more than an emphasised whisper he called the name which had been on the deceptive note. No answer. He stepped further into the silo. "Torp! Where are you?"

Sauren launched a throwing knife across the room. A squeak followed it. He grinned as he realised the blade had claimed one of the rats scurrying around the edges. Benjamin spun, thrusting the lantern forward towards the vermin's squeal. "Torp! Quit playing around."

"Torp?" A voice spoke.

The apprentice tailor faced forward again. Sauren stood in front of him. Benjamin's face morphed from initial shock to stunned surprise, through to an arrogant sneer. "Sauren Nightflame."

"Ah, you remember. I am ... moved." A manic glint flashed in the half-elf's eyes.

"Freaks are hard to forget," the acidic response came.

Sauren remained silent just long enough for it to unsettle his quarry. "By that, I take it you consider yourself justified in terrorising young children?"

Benjamin guffawed. "Filth like you, just like those vermin over there - " he jerked his chin to the rats, " - should be ousted, yes. Your kind has no right even breeding and especially not with our women."

For all Sauren had tried for a very long time to shelf most of the hatred afforded him and elves in general, hearing it drip from Morley 's lips now rekindled old feelings of hurt, pain and incredulity at such prejudice. It also fuelled his loathing of the man in front of him. "My kind?" he said, his voice gravelly, low. "Whether you like it or not, you ignorant pig, I am neither one nor the other. I am a half-breed, as you like to call me. And, as such, I have inherited advantageous traits from both parents. A respectable, well-learned woman was my mother and I have a brave and righteous father. They were united in wedlock – ah yes, now there's something. You, on the other hand, being spewed forth from a whore's belly have nothing worth bragging about, do you? Not even those brats you call siblings are blood-related."

The revelation that the freak knew of Benjamin 's lineage clearly shocked the bigot, he was rendered speechless. The manner in which Sauren delivered it also surprised the two rogues perched on the beams above.

Sauren stepped forward. "You are a loathsome, insignificant individual, Benjamin Morley who has lived his life dragging others down instead of trying to improve yourself. Now you sink even lower to robbing an old man who has worked hard all his life, founded a profitable and well-respected business serving the people of Capital City and further afield. You are despicable beyond words. Your days of deluded despotism have come to an end."

Finally, the apprentice found his voice. "You think you are some sort of Cerberus of the underdog, now?"

"Yes," Sauren answered coolly. "You and those like you have moulded me into one."

Benjamin spat in the dirt. "You may be rich and academic but you were and always will be a freak, Nightflame. That is all you are."

Sauren grinned and slowly moved towards the apprentice tailor. "Well, seems we all have a role to play in life, Benjamin. And for some, such as yourself, the time has come to leave the stage. Permanently." His tone was preternaturally calm, measured and ultimately menacing. His eyes dilated as he noted the subtle change in Morley 's stature. The young man was unnerved.

Benjamin flinched as Sauren's shoulder brushed against his. His head snapped round as the half-elf circled him in slow, deliberate strides. He swallowed before daring a response. "I can still beat you," he bluffed, fighting the tremor which threatened to give away his unease.

"No. You cannot."

The reply was voiced with such conviction that Benjamin found himself backing away. "I'm leaving now," he hissed, stumbling over some rubble.

"I think not." With no prior warning, Sauren threw another blade, this time towards the door. It struck the rope holding the counterweight in place. The rope snaked through a hole in the wall, dropping the weight down and wedging the door firmly closed.

Benjamin launched the lantern at Sauren, but the half-elf melded into the shadows once more, deftly avoiding the flaming lamp. The apprentice instinctively readied himself for a frontal attack. Mistake number one; Sauren was behind him in the time it took for the lantern to hit the floor.

The half-elf jerked Benjamin's head back and pressed the tip of his anelace to his throat. As Don predicted, Benjamin would not cave in. He grabbed Sauren's hand which held the dagger then drove his elbow into his ribs.

Sauren was forced back, stumbling to the counterweight against the door but he did not lose his blade. Benjamin quickly assessed available weapons and grabbed a wooden spar, three sharp, but crooked nails protruding from one end. He rushed forward and swung it at the half-elf.

Ducking and rolling away, Sauren avoided being perforated by the makeshift weapon. Still, his opponent did not relent. Benjamin spun round and again swiped at him. It barely missed his face but gave him enough opportunity to gauge their position in the room. As Benjamin tried again to hit his target, Sauren called up to Reed.

Benjamin was thrown by the distraction and looked behind himself to gauge what was coming but all to no avail. The rope dropped to his right and Sauren quickly grabbed it. The already knotted end made it easy to loop around Benjamin's arm and with another shout, the rope was pulled taut jerking Benjamin off-balance. The second rope quickly followed and this time Sauren somersaulted over and lassoed Benjamin's other arm in order to remain out of reach from the nailed spar.

Benjamin was confounded at his capture. It had happened so quickly, he was still reeling from it.

With both ropes securing the target, Sauren pulled himself straight, dusting down his shirt and britches then shouted the order to turn the cogs. The creak of wood and metal grinding sounded as the ropes were pulled up. "Stop," the half-elf said after a few moments. Benjamin's toes were just touching the ground and no more. The click of the locking mechanisms resounded around the silo.

Picking up the lantern, which strangely was still lit, Sauren held it before him in front of the suspended apprentice. Hatred oozed from Benjamin's eyes. Sauren sniggered then planting the lantern on the floor a few short feet from the man, he returned to where he'd left the saddle bag.

"You are making a big mistake, freak!" Benjamin growled.

"Oh, really?" Sauren grinned as he foraged inside the bag. "And how do you arrive at that conclusion?" He returned with another two lanterns. With a makeshift taper, he used the lit one to fire up the other two then positioned them so the figure of Benjamin Morley was bathed in their yellow light. Sauren stood, hands clasped in front, looking to the prisoner, waiting for an answer.

"People will know," Benjamin said between tight lips.

"Know what?"

"That I'm here."

"So, you advertise the fact you are in league with black marketers and are selling on Mr Atherton's expensive fabrics? Is that what you are saying?"

"Torp will know."

"Again I ask you, who do you dare tell of your shady dealings? I presume you know how dangerous it would be to do so? This Torp fellow, I doubt very much he would be too pleased to know you even uttered his name let alone admitted you are in cahoots with him."

Benjamin tugged at the ropes burning into his wrists, but all it did was bite into his skin more. "I am one his main suppliers, he will wonder where I have got to if I do not answer his call."

Sauren laughed out loud. "You make yourself sound more like a lap dog than a devious impresario. Besides…" he reached behind his back. "I left a little token of your affection when I took back your recent exchange with him. He may end up looking for you certainly, Benjamin, but I doubt it will be to continue business. More likely, to conclude it."

The apprentice tailor was starting to realise the severity of his current situation. His eyes flitted about wildly, his mind desperately trying to work out a way to escape.

As he turned his attention back to Sauren, he saw him toying with a blade.

"Do you know what this is?" Sauren asked him, holding up the small curved blade. Its edge glinting in the light, showing its keenness.

"A knife," Benjamin replied, trying hard to cap both his rising agitation and anger at having been so easily duped.

"Your powers of deduction are quite remarkable, Morley. I applaud you."

"You arrogant cunt!"

Sauren's eyes flashed the insult just a mild irritation like a persistent mosquito. He tutted. "Such profanity!" Then he turned to Reed and Don. "Gentlemen," he announced and gestured with his hand.

The click and grind of the cogs started again, lifting Benjamin higher, pulling his arms more angular to his torso and his feet further from the ground. "Enough." The cogs stopped. "Manacles."

Benjamin tried to turn his head to see who approached as the sound of chained links neared him within the gloom around the edge of the silo. Before he knew it though, iron shackles were around his ankles and they were attached to heavy weights which two other young men were pulling back forcing his legs straight and open. He felt the muscle burn beginning in his thighs and calves. Sauren nodded to Don and Reed and they returned once more to the cogs giving them a final turn.

Benjamin winced as his sides and arms now felt the stretch. Sauren looked up at him. The brown eyes were full of a pernicious promise and at that moment, Benjamin knew his fate was sealed. In desperation, he yelled for help at the top of his voice. When he saw that the half-elf did not even flinch, but remained grinning, he yelled again, and again.

"Do continue, please, although it will do you no good. I have selected this setting very carefully. There is no-one within miles; you will not be heard."

There was no denying the freak had thought it out well. Benjamin ceased his shouting. His breathing was short and sharp the need to gulp air was almost overwhelming, but doing so would aggravate the pain in his limbs from being stretched so tautly.

Sauren smiled smugly. "Now then, I admit I am becoming bored with you so let us continue with your education." He held up the knife again. "Try to be more specific this time."

Benjamin's eyes started to water, his situation desperate and hopeless. "I – I don't know," he whimpered.

"Ah. Well then, I shall try to enlighten you." Sauren turned and moved into the gloom. Moments later he returned, holding the rat he had skewered earlier. He extracted the throwing blade and wiping the blood on his shirt then tucked it back into its small scabbard strapped to his thigh.

He held the rat up in front of Benjamin. "Did you know, that there are some rather forward-thinking designers out there who are now using rat fur for trimming or even lining their garments."

Benjamin stared at him, dumbfounded.

Sauren continued. "This is a rather quirky way to control numbers of the vermin which live in our cities and towns but it is effective and you may well have noticed an increase in rat traps over the past few months."

The apprentice remained silent.

Sauren huffed. "I am merely telling you this as you are an aspiring designer yourself and thought you may find it interesting. They are all properly treated, cured, whatever it is that they do to hides. Fiddly though, I would have thought."

He looked towards Don and Reed, who seemed bewildered by this strange development to the plan. Benjamin still looked hatefully at him.

He sighed and holding the rat up again he pushed the curved blade into its throat, then dragged it down. Blood ran down his arm. He moved the tip of the blade to just under the rodent's ear and again pulled the knife down. Next, with thumb at the tip, he attempted to peel the fur back. He only managed a small area before it came off in a thin strip. "See what I mean?" he said holding the rat out again. "Very tricky to take the fur off in a decent measure."

Reed fidgeted to the side, glancing quickly to Don, but the other young man was fixated.

Sauren cast the rodent to the side and turned to face Benjamin. "So, I will ask you again. What is this?" He held up the knife.

Benjamin, it seemed knew the answer, after all, his lips quivered and eyes watered as he replied. "It's a skinning knife."

"Bravo," Sauren smiled. "That was, of course, just a small rat. There are much larger ones to be had and they can be particularly violent and devious. Sometimes they operate in a mischief, but more have been known to work alone."

He neared the suspended apprentice and with the tip of the blade, popped the top button of his shirt. Benjamin trembled, catching his breath. The pain in his muscles was quickened as his body tensed. Another button was popped, another and another until none was left.

"Remove it," Sauren aimed at Reed. He held his friend's gaze, assessing how he was bearing up. A satisfied smirk toyed at the corners of his mouth as the rogue moved past him and he heard the fabric rip. He looked askance at the torn garment hit the floor.

He circled Benjamin and stopped in front of him once more. The man did not look quite so sure of himself now. In fact, the tears tracing down his cheeks signified regret for past actions. "You – you know skinners only skin dead things?" he ventured.

"Yes," Sauren grinned before he pressed the blade against the edge of his collarbone. "But I'm not a skinner, remember. I'm a freak." The smile vanished as he pulled the knife down to just below Benjamin's ribs. The apprentice screamed, the sound chilling. He roared again as the half-elf carved around the top of the collarbone and down the side, the blade jarring on the rib-cage.

"Am I making a good job of cutting the pattern? Is it made to measure?" Sauren hissed between his teeth as he repeated the act on Benjamin's left side. He was answered by an agonised scream.

Another sound reached the half-elf's ears; the baying of prowling darkhounds in the vicinity. Their highly attuned sense of smell would pick up the scent of blood even from within the crumbling confines of the old silo.

"Make a fire over there," he ordered Don and Reed, pointing to where the saddle bag remained. "Burn this." He flung the apprentice's torn shirt their way. Pulling their gaze from the grisly torture they did as he bade. Sauren continued with his work.

Through his wracking sobs and copious tears, the apprentice tailor/bully and extortionist saw the contorted features of the half-breed staring back him. It was the most elven he had ever seen the boy look. And it terrified him. Even as he accepted he was going to die, somehow a fear he had never experienced before formed deep within. Through all those years when he had showered ridicule and harassed Sauren, he had been ignorant of the true, terrifying potential such a being could harbour.

Consciousness was waning as Sauren continued to butcher him. He had no strength left to cry out, he could barely whimper. He was beyond feeling the pain anymore; he was just numb. Yet, he was aware of his skin being peeled from his bones. He could hear it and his body jerked against his restraints as it was stripped from him. Through the blur he could see his blood soaking into Sauren's shirt, the stain spreading steadily as the half-elf continued to hack at his skin.

Distantly he heard him telling the accomplices to cut him down. He hit the stone and dry earth with a dull thud and sickening squelch. Innards slopped out from his body as the impact punctured some of the translucent tissue which had been exposed. Faeces and urine seeped through his trousers, the torture having rendered control of his other bodily functions redundant. His body was then dragged near the fire. They sat him up, his head lolled forward. He noted the red pulsing mush that was once his chest. Slivers of bone shone through the raw tissue, the sheets of epidermis hanging like parchment from his frame. He tried to speak.

Reed and Don started to move the counterweight blocking the entrance. Sauren changed out of his bloodied shirt, using water from a canteen to wash off the worst from his skin. Around the base of the door, he wrung out the sodden shirt then returned to the fire and cast the garment into the flames. As he pulled on his clean shirt he glanced down at the dying apprentice. He saw his lips moving. Curious, he hunkered down to listen.

"I - I'm sorry," Benjamin breathed.

Sauren stared at him. "Now you're sorry?" His nose twitched from the stench of blood and faeces that rose from the pitiful figure before him.

Benjamin could only manage the briefest of nods.

"So am I," Sauren said. He lifted Benjamin's chin. Life was leaving the blue eyes. "I'm sorry that your prejudice has made you such a loathsome person. I'm sorry that you were driven to cheat an old man who gave you a chance to better yourself." He paused, making sure the apprentice was still breathing. Then he continued. "I had done nothing wrong as a young boy. My only crime was being different from you, yet you saw fit to cause me harm, to besmirch my family, to kill my horse. So above all, I'm sorry that your poison has made me what I am now. I hope you rot in hell, Benjamin Morley. You will have no forgiveness from me."

When he stood, Sauren was surprised to find his friends to his side. He gathered they had overheard. Their faces were hard to read in the firelight and for a moment, he thought he had lost their loyalty, their friendship. What he had done in this abandoned silo was incredibly brutal and it hit home just how much of a beast he could be. He did not want to surrender to the seduction of decay. He needed his friends, his father, his legacy. He swallowed, momentarily uncertain of what to do next.

Reed placed a hand on his shoulder. A simple act yet loaded with empathy and it was complimented with a reassuring smile from Don. "Come, Sauren. The debt has been paid."

The half-elf glanced down at Benjamin. It would not be much longer now before his very last breath was taken. The baying hounds were closer now they would soon have their fill. Then a very unexpected rush of sympathy washed over him.

"Sauren, we have to go. Now!"

The door was nudged, the ravenous predators keen for their evening meal. He nodded and handed over the saddlebag, then the two rogues made for the stepping stones up the circumference of the wall. He shifted to join them, then stopped. An almost inaudible whimper came from the skinned carcass beside the fire. The first of the darkhounds pushed in through the door. Its guttural growl rising from its belly to the snapping jaws.

"Sauren!" Don shouted down from the beam.

He made a quick decision. Lifting Benjamin's head he drew the skinning knife across his throat finishing him before the hounds could tear him apart. Then he spun round and melding with the shadows he leapt up past the predators and climbed one of the ropes.

When he reached the roof he looked back down and saw the beasts devouring Benjamin Morley, pulling him away from the fire.

The tear that fell from his eye, was not for the butchered bigot he'd left below. It was for himself and the monster he had become.