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In what must have been less than an hour, Mara stood against the wall in the training courtyard. He squinted, the lashing rain stinging his cheeks, the bandage around his ribs too tight. All the other boys were there too, even the younger ones he hadn’t seen for weeks. The younger ones shivered in the cold as they stared at Mara, most looking scared. The older boys all looked toward Joseph, who knelt in the middle of the yard, head hung forward, wet clothes clinging to him.
The two Shadows on the opposite wall moved to Joseph and pulled him to his feet as three other Shadows came through the gate in the corner.
“This boy,” the Shadow Master shouted above the rain, “chooses to suffer.”
The Shadow Master stopped to stand in front of Joseph, while two others moved behind and were fiddling with something Mara couldn’t see. All the boys in the yard now looked toward the Shadow Master, except Balin, who stared at the floor. He knows this is his fault. He told him about what happened before.
“This boy,” continued the Shadow Master, “chooses to break the rules. He chooses to assault his own brothers outside of the rules of combat. He has chosen punishment. You will all take heed of this lesson. This boy will learn the meaning of his choices, and you will bear witness to this.”
The Shadow Master stepped away. The rain lashed harder still as the Shadows behind Joseph rolled out a long whip each. The two remaining Shadows took Joseph by the arms. Mara had seen the guards in Talon whip a boy to death for stealing. This is your fault, Joseph. You should have left me alone.
Mara jumped at the first crack of the whip. Joseph arched his back, mouth wide open, but no sound came out. The second lash brought out a scream that had every boy in the yard look to their feet, except Mara. The warmth within him had returned. He wanted to see Joseph die.
Silas waited among the trees. Not long now. Tonight would be Gerald’s final visit to his cabin. Even if Mara failed, Silas would finish the job. He scratched at the edges of the itching wound. It continued to heal badly, each end of the gash never quite having the time to form a decent enough scab before it ripped back open.
A burst of torchlight illuminated the trees in the distance. Silas took a step away but stopped to double-take. A second person. He tried to make out who sat behind Gerald. If he wasn’t so fucking fat. He didn’t have time to waste and made for the hide he’d prepared in view of the briars. He had no idea where the Shadows would be watching from, so he couldn’t alert them. They must abandon this. Too much risk for a beginner. They have to protect him.
He wriggled into the hide. It had rained that day, and the puddle inside quickly soaked his chest and stomach. For fuck’s sake, any more bad luck?
Gerald’s horse passed by only two trees away. The witch. Is she in on it? Or the next victim? The woman’s greasy black hair shone in the flame light. Silas looked around, no sign of a Shadow. Call this off. Don’t put him in danger.
Gerald tied up the horse and helped his wife dismount. The witch stood bolt upright, hands behind her back, as she waited for the branch pile to be moved. Gerald stepped back and waved a hand toward the tunnel with an exaggerated bow. The witch bent through the tunnel and was quickly followed by Gerald with the torch. Darkness returned. Call it off.
A jet-black horse controlled by a Shadow slowly emerged from the night, as if straight from hell. A small figure slid off the back, made for Gerald’s horse, and led it back to the Shadow to be taken away.
Silas felt like a missing piece of him had returned, a weight lifted. It’s him, it’s really him. Silas felt short of breath as the mix of excitement and fear washed over him. In the same way it had during the first few of his own assassinations.
As the small figure crept toward the tunnel, Silas questioned his strange dependency on Mara. There was no explaining it, not now. He had no choice but to push the thoughts to the back of his mind. Be careful, boy. I’ll step in if I need to.
Silas left the hide, his heart pounding. The briar tunnel made no sound as he waited at its edge. He’s either already through or moving in perfect silence. Slowly, Silas made his way to the first bend of the tunnel. No sign of Mara. The groaning and banging from the cabin commenced. Much louder than Silas had heard it before.
“Please stop!” a woman shouted.
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The next shout was muffled. The pain in the woman’s voice had been clear. Don’t let it bother you, boy. Focus only on your task. Silas half expected Mara to come bundling into him, afraid and on the run.
Silas peered around the final corner and swallowed hard. Mara was pressed up against the side of the cabin, glistening blade drawn. He’s put on weight. Must be eating plenty of the Shadow’s gruel. Mara crouched and looked in the direction of the door. Coiled and ready to strike. Fat man comes out, couple of steps, job done.
Silas had imagined Mara to be a trembling wreck rather than the picture of focus he saw before him. He thought back to the night he’d made Mara kill Mother. A foolish plan to see if he had it in him. This should be his first. On the other hand, maybe it was for the best. Would he have the focus he has today without the experience? Besides, at least it got him a name, even if it is an odd one.
The door flapped open, and out came the witch. She shut the door behind her and made for the tunnel. Fuck. Hold your ground, boy, I’ll take care of her. Silas retreated to the branch pile to wait for her. He couldn’t let her see the horse was missing.
Thirty seconds passed, a minute, nothing. Where are you, witch? Silas crept back into the tunnel. Toward the cabin end, the unmistakable metallic odour of blood filled the air. Silas kicked what could only be a body. He reached down and felt the witch’s long hair. Killed in complete silence. You really are something special, boy.
Silas climbed over the body and got back into position. Mara stood against the cabin as if he’d never left. Look at you – the perfect killer. Now I see how you’ve made such an impression.
The cabin went quiet, then came the sound of heavy footsteps. “What is taking her so long?” Gerald said. The door flung open with a loud bang as it hit the cabin wall. Steam rose from Gerald’s pale and hairy naked body, cock still hard. “Muriel,” he whispered, “Muriel.” Then scoffed and walked away from the door.
Mara peered around the corner into the cabin. No, boy. Stay in position. Mara quickly pulled away and frowned at the floor. Silas could only imagine the horror Mara had just witnessed. Focus, boy, focus.
Gerald’s footsteps thumped back across the cabin. He hadn’t gone to the trouble of putting all of his clothes back on, only his dirty white underclothes. “Muriel, get back here.” He paused for a short while, mumbling to himself, then stepped out and slammed the door behind him.
Silas retreated once again, nearly tripping over the witch’s body.
Gerald screamed. “You little ba… argh, argh, argh.”
Silas rushed back toward them, blade drawn and ready. Gerald lay on his back in the mud, underclothes stained red in several places. Mara, teeth gritted, breathed heavily at Gerald’s side. Gerald made a feeble attempt to hold a hand over his face, but Mara kicked it away. Mara knelt, put a hand on Gerald’s forehead, and stabbed the fat man in the neck several times.
