Chapter 5

The Things We Do For Power

Eight Years Ago

Salazar-jiin ached. It felt like every muscle in his body was on fire. He was laying on the ground after completing the three-mile run that Shadowscale Helar-tai had assigned him. He breathed hard, staring up into the canopy of trees, which swayed in the afternoon wind. A few moments later, Aful-shei came wheezing into view, collapsing onto the ground in the same manner as Salazar had. Aful-shei was a short and slightly pudgy kid with curved horns and red patterned scales on his face. He never was that good at exercise. They lay there for a while, catching their breath until Helar-tai came over to sneer at them disapprovingly.

He pointed at Aful-shei, "You're slow. If you were being pursued by guards, you would have been a pincushion for their arrows within a few yards."

Aful-shei didn't respond. He was still catching his breath.

He then pointed at Salazar, "You're fast, but you have no stamina. Don't think I didn't see you hiding to catch your breath!"

Salazar was out of breath too, but he could get enough to reply, "Won't we... at least... have... horses?"

Helar-tai barked a humorless laugh, "Horses require too much upkeep. Besides, with your obvious lack of skill, you'll never get the kind of jobs that pay enough coin to buy a horse in ten lifetimes!"

Aful-shei finally caught his breath enough to speak, "And... what are you doing? Stuck... in the boonies... teaching brats."

Shouldn't've said that Shei, Salazar thought. According to rumors the other trainees had spread, Helar-tai was a Shadowscale of no small renown before being called to Black Marsh to teach new Shadowscales. He was bitter about it, and those same rumors claimed a million different reasons why. Some said he botched an important job, some said he'd bedded his employer's wife, and others said it was some combination of the two. Whatever happened, he did not like his situation brought up by his students.

Helar-tai's throat grew red in anger and he kicked Aful-shei in the stomach, knocking what little air he had left out and leaving him gasping. Helar-tai leaned down and looked Aful-shei in the eyes, "Alright, you doughy little shit," He whispered, "Let's see if you still have a mouth on you when you run that again." He kicked Aful-shei again for good measure.

Salazar stood, "If he's running, I'm running too."

Helar-tai turned, his throat now a bright scarlet. Argonians could usually tell each other's emotions through smell, but with Helar-tai's eyes narrowed, teeth bared, and throat red, Salazar didn't need his nose to tell he was furious. "You're the only trainee with any skill, and you care about this whelp?"

"'Your ability as an assassin is contingent on your ability to kill without caring. Otherwise, it will break you.' You said this about our enemies. Nothing about being needlessly cruel our allies," Salazar said.

Helar-tai opened his mouth for a retort, but Salazar interjected, "That's why you're stuck here, isn't it?"

Helar-tai's eyes widened, then he growled and stormed over to Salazar, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing. Salazar struggled. He tried everything he could to get out of his grip, even going so far as to draw blood by biting Helar-tai's arm. Helar-tai was skinny, but in the way a wild dog was skinny. He had a whip-chord strength that made him unassuming to the untrained eye. He didn't waver. Salazar's vision began to grow dark.

"Helar! What in Oblivion are you doing?!" Suddenly, Salazar felt his body hit the ground as he gasped for air. He looked for the origin of the voice that had saved his life. His vision swam for a second until it finally settled on Zareena, the Master-of-Assassins for the King of Black Marsh. She oversaw their training above his other teachers. Presently, she was shouting at Helar-tai. He sat up and hugged his knees, listening with half an ear.

"By the Hist, man! What is wrong with you? This is the second time you've assaulted one of my charges!" Zareena said.

"They are soft, mistress! If you keep coddling them like this, they will be the worst assassins on Tamriel!"

"Oh, so we're supposed to strangle our most promising students if they get a bit mouthy? What next? Do you want me to tear off their scales for not finishing their meals on time? Or perhaps you want me to let you execute them for your own sick pleasure? Salazar-jiin is a prodigy in the art of killing. Losing his would make this entire class a waste! If you touch my students again, I will slit your throat and leave you in the swamp! Understand?"

Helar-tai fumed silently for a long moment before storming away. Zareena looked back at Salazar. "You alright?"

Salazar raised his head. "Y-Yes ma'am," he replied quietly.

"Good. Get back to your bunks. It's been a long day." She turned on her heel and followed Helar-tai to the adult barracks.

He'd almost died. It hit him like a horse at full speed how close he'd come to entering Sithis' Void. He started to hyperventilate and he felt his heartrate rise. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw that Aful-shei had taken a seat next to him. "Hey, you're alright. Don't let that snake get to you."

"He almost killed me, Shei. If Zareena hadn't been there..."

"Don't think about that. You're alive now. Do your best to keep it that way."

Salazar buried his face in his knees. Many of the children that had been chosen for Shadowscale training had been killed in some way during the training. He'd come close to being one of them. Up until now, he'd blamed the deaths on their incompetence. They were sloppy during sparing, they didn't do the jump right, etc.. Now he knew it was never their fault. It was the fault of the adults that had put them there. Giving daggers to hatchlings and telling them not to cut themselves. He would change that. He could change that. If he did well, he would become one of the King's own assassins. If he rose the ranks, he could eventually take Zareena's place as Master-of-Assassins and train Shadowscales after they turned sixteen. He'd have to get there first.

...

That night, Salazar lay in his bunk and listened to the noises of the swamp. Birds crowed and insects chirped in the darkness. The familiar humid heat of the marsh enveloped him. He couldn't sleep. Almost dying tended to make rest very difficult. He stared up into the darkness of the bunkhouse roof and made shapes out of the vague outlines of the wooden planks. There were shuffling sounds outside. Probably one of the students going to the outhouse. There was a creak of old hinges as the door to the bunkhouse opened. A skinny figure walked through the door and silently slinked its way over to Salazar's bunk. He stiffened. The form's hooded head leaned over to Salazar's ear. He could smell its breath. It reeked of ale.

"You come with me and I won't have to drag you. Understand?" It was Helar-tai's voice, very quiet and slightly slurred. Was he back to finish the job? Stick a knife in his throat during his sleep?

"Yes," Salazar replied. It was probably some kind of punishment that had been approved by Zareena. But if that was the case, why the secrecy? Usually punishments were dealt out during the morning lineup. The worst one he'd seen was when Yezera had been whipped for accidentally killing her sparing partner. She was despondent for weeks after that. In any case, it was probably better to go along with it for the time being.

He quietly got out of his bunk and followed Helar-tai out of the bunkhouse. Helar-tai grabbed a torch next to the door and jerked his head to indicate that Salazar should follow. Helar-tai had obviously been drinking heavily. His gait was uneven and he'd almost fallen over in the mud multiple times. They walked within a small orange sphere of flickering torchlight, birds fleeing from the unexpected sight. They came to another building and Helar-tai threw open the door. Salazar recognized it as the training hall where they did sparing practice.

Oddly, it was lit in the middle of the night. The various forms of deadly weaponry they practiced with sat against all four walls along with training dummies and other miscellaneous forms of equipment. In the middle of the room lay a wriggling form bound in strong hemp rope. The figure turned in its struggles and revealed Shei's scarlet face and curved horns. He was hurt, with discolorations on his scales that indicated bruising and a small rivulet of blood running down his face from a cut on his forehead. He was also gagged and tried to cry out after seeing Salazar, but the words were muffled.

"What's going on?" Salazar asked. He turned and saw Helar-tai slamming the door shut and barring it with a training staff. He felt his feathers stand on end.

"Master Helar, if this is about what I said after the run this afternoon, then I sincerely apologize." Salazar pleaded.

Helar-tai staggered over to him and, before he could react, backhanded him across the face with so much force that he fell to the ground. Dazed, he attempted to get up. Before he could rise, he felt his head get jerked up by one of his horns. Helar-tai held him so they were face to face. His eyes were a bright blue with thin slitted pupils and his neck was a bright scarlet. His sharp pointed teeth were bared and Salazar could hear a low growl that made him quiver with fear. He spoke again, still slurred from his drinking. "This is my final lesson for you, prodigy." He spat out the word prodigy like a curse. Still dazed, Salazar didn't notice the dagger he pulled out until it was right in front of his face.

Salazar calmed himself and remembered the lessons on disarming an assailant. He tried to focus his mind and body, ready to perform the oft-repeated combat forms. Then Helar-tai deftly spun it around in his hand and held it out hilt first to Salazar. He then jerked his head toward Shei who still struggled in the middle of the room, his cries of dismay muffled by the cloth gag. "Slit his throat."

Salazar's vision finally cleared and he maladroitly got to his feet, backing away from Helar-tai. "No! I'd sooner kill you and be thrown to the crocodiles!"

Helar-tai advanced, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Salazar stood in a hand-to-hand stance and threw a punch and hit Helar-tai square in the jaw. He didn't seem to notice and grabbed the wrist that struck him. With his other hand, Salazar tried to wrench it free. Helar-tai's grip was far too strong. Helar twisted the wrist in his hand and broke Salazar's arm over his knee. Salazar screamed in agony and fell to the ground. The combination of the pain and the sight of his arm bent at an extreme angle caused him to vomit on the wood floor. Helar-tai sighed and forcefully put the dagger in his good hand, dragging him by a horn over to his friend as he sobbed.

Shei's struggles increased and the muffled yells increased. Salazar could barely hear the banging at the door or the yelling from outside. He only focused on not vomiting again. The next thing he felt was the dagger in his good hand being dragged across Shei's throat. Crimson blood gushed and Shei fell to the ground, spasming and trying to breath through a mouth that had been disconnected from his lungs. Salazar struggled meekly against Helar's grip as he watched the only solace he had in his life drown in a pool of his own blood. Tears flowed freely. He was dropped and he dragged himself to Shei's lifeless body, the dagger still in his hand. He held his blood-slick friend close to his chest and wailed. The pounding on the door had become more rhythmic. He looked up at Helar-tai and, voice cracking, asked, "Why?"

Helar sneered at him, "To be an assassin is to kill, boy. An effective assassin is one that can kill even those he loves if he is ordered to."

The wood at the door began to splinter. Helar-tai grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started to beat him. Salazar tried to put up a defense, but his broken arm screamed in pain whenever he tried to move it. Helar hit him again and again and again. He tasted iron as blood started to run down into his mouth. The door finally shattered and several people ran into the room, yelling, screaming for Helar to stop. Eventually, Helar was pulled away from Salazar and he was left on the ground, his existence being nothing but pain for hours. After some time, he gained enough presence of mind to drag himself over to Shei's body and hold it again. It had grown cold. None of the adults returned while Salazar screamed and cried and wailed until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse.