To make up for the dullness of the last chapter, this chapter will be the opposite hopefully, (spoiler ish) despite a lot of jumping back and forth between memory and present time. My thanks to any reading. The Night Angel Trilogy belongs to Brent Weeks.
The galleon groaned and creaked as it lumbered into port, Jason's green eyes scanning the docks for potential threats and guards of any description. It would be most unfortunate to be forced to kill before he had even set foot on Khalidorian land. He did not see any danger (as if the word even had any meaning to him anymore) but he did see suffering and signs of oppression even in plain sight. The common folk cowered in their filthy, tattered robes when a noble passed them by and beatings by the city guard for no other reason than sport showed the infamous brutality Khalidor had become feared for. Under its fearsome Godking, Khalidor was a place where the strong prospered and the weak suffered. Here, only the most powerful and bloodthirsty thrived, and that maxim fit Jason like a glove. He had come for blood, and the head of its Godking. This was the target that the Sa'kage had demanded from him. They had not told him why he had such a difficult target, and he didn't care as usual. He had to kill the lord of this god-forsaken land or die trying.
The tavern was even worse than those in Cenaria, but the room was literally dirt cheap and due to the cruelty that permeated the very air in Khalidor, no one asked any questions when a dark robed foreigner appeared from the darkness, bristling with weaponry. The bed was filled with lice and other insects, and the floor was covered in filth. "Reminds me of home" Jason thought grimly as he sat down on the edge of the bed and let his mind wander to the past…
A pair of golden eyes scanned the rooftops vigilantly and was rewarded with the discovery of a figure striding arrogantly across the buildings. She watched as he made his way confidently to her balcony, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "What after you after now, my love?" She poked him in the chest playfully and kissed him back. "Why do I have to be after anything?" Jason smirked as he leant into the column and crossed his arms. "Although, now you mention it, do you remember that trinket I asked you to hold on to?" He watched happily as she smiled and walked over the ornate wooden box Jason had given her and retrieved a small wooden charm. He gave her a genuine smile and reached for it, but she pulled it away teasingly and stuck her tongue out. "No… You have to do something for me first…" Jason raised an eyebrow in false shock and got a mock scowl for his efforts. He kissed her lightly on the neck and she poked him again playfully. "No, no, no… not that. My parents are downstairs, you rogue. No, I need you to help a friend of mine out. She's having problems with men near that tavern you're always in. Can you talk to them?" Jason pulled away from her and cracked his knuckles absently. "Of course I can. I'll be back later". He kissed her on the forehead and swung over the railing to fall to the nearest rooftop and from there descended to street level and out of sight.
Jason Drake opened his eyes and instinctively found the hilt of his knife. Checking the room and seeing that his continued survival was assured, he lay back and rested his head in his hands. He didn't usually dream and very rarely cast his memory to his life before he entered the profession of murder. He cast it aside and looked out his windows, complete with broken shutters. He closed his eyes and listened to the foul tapestry of the port's atmosphere. The sounds of muggings and rape filled his ears, in particular a shrill shriek that originated from further up the cobbled street. He opened his emerald eyes and saw an attractive young woman with blonde curls fleeing a brutish bald man with a hungry look in his eyes. Jason snarled and measured up the situation. What would his former lover do? He wondered, but reaching his answer with a snort. Nothing, probably. I'm going to take action. He vaulted over the windowsill and dropped to the street below, using his Talent to soften the fall. The blonde wench ran straight past him in terror, as he brought his arm back and launched his knife into the heart of her assailant. As she froze and stared at her mystery saviour, hands covering her mouth, he searched his thoughts for answers. Why had he, on impulse, rescued a stranger, in front of a crowded street? He was trying to keep a low profile. Gwen will never let me hear the end of this when she finds out. The distressed blonde damsel ventured tentatively towards him, and whispered "Sir?". He shook her off, wrapped himself in shadows, and disappeared silently into the darkness, alone with his memories again. A familiar face watched him vanish, and smiled.
"So laddie, you been to see that wench of yours again? You tell her you're a thief yet, and that she's holding the king of Cenaria's prized possession for you?" The head of Cenaria's Thieves Guild, Varric Terah, looked amused at Jason, who glared back at him. "No." The response was short and direct, and Varric chuckled. "Lying to a lover then. I can't see that going badly at all, lad" He snatched a tankard of ale from a barmaid, the girl jumping at the sudden motion. The stocky master of thieves chuckled again and drank, ale spilling into his white beard that matched his thinning, snowy hair. Jason rolled his eyes, and shot a reply. "I'll tell her when this is all over. And I'll stop being a thief. It always leads to arguments and I hate upsetting her. Besides we love each other. Forever. We'll get around anything". He drank from his own tankard, and frowned as he heard an unusual sound in the cacophony of the tavern. He turned and noticed guards trawling through the rabble, searching for him and Varric by the looks of things. He turned back to Varric, who was chuckling as usual. "I remember when I was as naïve as you, laddie. Behind you." Jason nodded and leapt to his feet, thrusting his head back into the face of the guard behind him. The guard tumbled back into a patron, spilling beer across a group of drunken workers, and all hell broke loose. Jason heard Varric's throaty laugh "You've lit a powder keg now, boy" as he escaped the tavern, which had descended into a drunken brawl.
The weak Khalidorian dawn invaded his room as Jason climbed back through the window and onto the lice infested bed, and sprang straight back out as he heard a throat being cleared. His eyes flashed around the room and settled on a cloaked figure sat in the corner of the room. The dark shape spoke in an ancient whisper "I had to check it was actually you, lad. How've you been, Jason?" The man rose to his feet and his shock of white hair led to recognition igniting in Jason's eyes. "Varric?" The master thief nodded, and crossed his arms. Jason turned to the rickety table and scooped up a small bottle of strong liquor. He took a swig and handed it to Varric. "What are you doing here, old man?" Varric swallowed a mouthful of liquid before handing the bottle back to Jason and spat. "Still as disrespectful as ever. You should know why I'm here in this pit of a country." Jason stiffened and snarled back a response, "No. Enlighten me." Varric stared at his former pupil for a moment and spoke slowly and precisely, "Very well. I shall speak slowly so you understand. Your woman sold us all out. We all had to flee Cenaria and I ended up here. Understand now, boy?" Varric took a threatening step towards Jason, who remained impassive. "Yes, I remember. Listen, Varric, I'll make it up to you. When I'm done here, you can help yourself to any of the Godking's treasures." Varric shot him a look of surprise, "And how can you be so sure of that? Jason smirked and his eyes lit up with that cocky confidence Varric remembered all too well. "I'm going to kill the Godking, old friend." "Oh is that all, lad?" Varric shook his head in disbelief and gestured at the liquor bottle. "Pass me that, I'm going to need it." Jason threw it to him, and rolled his eyes as the old thief drained it. He lay back onto the bed as Varric exited the room, shouting "If you need me lad, the new guild meets in the abandoned warehouse near the docks." Jason uncorked a fresh bottle and began to drink, and replayed the time when he was young and naïve back through his mind.
Jason's thoughts were wild and unfocused as he raced across the rooftops towards the balcony. What if the guards had found out she was hiding it for him? Before he became aware of it, he had found her balcony and entered her room. Her empty room. He glanced everywhere, searching for anything. He saw the wooden box, ajar, and a note lying beside it. He picked it up and read it. "Jason. I know what that trinket is now, and I gave it back to the king and told him about you. I know you're a liar. I don't love you anymore. I'm staying with a friend tonight. This is it. Goodbye." He set down the note and sighed, but exiting the room the way he came and ran back across the tiles to the chaos his world had become.
The warehouse was derelict, but not abandoned. Jason stared at Varric, who took a draw from a cigar protruding from his mouth. He removed it and asked without turning to Jason, "So, killing the Godking eh lad? A much bigger task than picking pockets like when I first found you." Jason ignored him and his rhetoric, forming a question of his own. "So where's this guild then?" Varric took another draw from the cigar and walked over to a pile of barrels. "Third from the left, second one in… Ah. Here we are lad." He kicked the barrel aside, revealing a small trapdoor. He opened it and climbed inside gesturing for Jason to follow.
The caverns below the warehouse were a maze of small wooden buildings and impromptu markets, a warren like city underneath Khalidor's main port. The caves were illuminated by torches and filled with the coming and going of thieves, smugglers and other wretches, who nodded in respect to Varric and gave Jason a wide berth. He was an indomitable black bear in a den of jackals and rightly feared, there were only two desperate attempts to mug them by the time they had reached their destination. "A tavern. In a cave?" Jason eyed up the bleak looking building and muttered "There's a first." Varric ushered him inside and lead him to a private room in the rear of the building. "So. The Godking then." Varric sat down and looked sternly at Jason, his usual joviality absent. Jason also took a seat and nodded. "For the last time Varric, yes. The Godking. I need a map of the capital and his castle and times of all his guards' schedules. Can you do this for me?" Jason stared by at the old thief, who shrugged slowly. "I can try Jason, but I'm not making any promises." Varric sat back in his chair and pulled out a pack of cards and began to deal. Jason glanced at him quizzically, then picked up his hand and began to play.
"You've already got a reputation in these parts, lad" Varric stated blankly, observing Jason for a reaction. "How is that possible? I saved one woman." Jason remained impassive as ever. The retort was just as emotionless. "Well it seems the entire street saw it, and news of goodwill spreads like wildfire in Khalidor. The people are desperate for something to believe in, something that doesn't leave them with nothing and it seems they believe in their new Dark Angel." Jason rolled his eyes. "You must be joking Varric. That is a ridiculous title. We both know I'm no angel." Varric's face split into a mirthful grin, "Aye lad, but that's the title you have nonetheless now. And I believe the best way to get to the Godking is to unite the people against him. Show them he can be challenged". Jason flung his cards onto the table, winning the round and taking a drink before replying "Varric, that could cause a rebellion very easily and surely security becomes tighter than a Ceuran whore when there's a rebellion going on." Varric chuckled again and shook his head slowly, dealing the next hand deftly. "You'd be surprised Jason. The Godking is almost as arrogant as you. He believes he cannot be killed, not by us mere mortals anyway. Security wouldn't be an issue." Varric won this round, and took a drink. "Very well Varric, but are you sure the people will rise up? They're hardly the bravest of sorts. You can't expect me to place my faith in these whipped slaves". Varric sighed. "Jason, you need to take risks. Both in love and in war. If the risk fails, you try a new tack. But if it pays off, you'll wonder why you ever doubted it."
"There's a room upstairs if you need it, by the way." Varric spoke without looking up from his hand, even to Jason's reply. "I have a room already." Varric played his winning hand – a queen and a jester – and dealt again. "That's up there, in the port. This tavern is protected by my Thieves Guild. Safest place for miles around. And considering what you've got planned boy, safety is everything. No one defies the Godking." As if to prove his point, Varric threw down his hand of three kings triumphantly. "Ha. Beat that lad." Jason flashed an arrogant smile and revealed his own cards, to Varric's surprise. "Four aces. Looks like the king isn't as untouchable as you thought, old man." With that, Jason left, thinking back to the beginning of this grand escapade, wondering if he was tackling too great a force.
"So… When do you leave for this big job in Khalidor?" Gwen pulled the most innocent face she could, but Jason narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you really want to know, Gwen?" She sighed, and spoke with rare severity. "I want to know why you are so crazy about this woman. You've never been that drunk. I've seen less beer at a king's wedding than what you drank. What makes her so special to you?" She stared at him, searching him for answers. He stared across the city from the balcony next to his bedroom and replied icily "She isn't special. Don't worry yourself Gwen, she means nothing to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go." He stood, made a short bow, and made for the door. Gwen's face became a mask of anguish as she turned to face his back. "You can lie to me all you want Jason. But don't lie to yourself"