Just for Jacque

Because she is absolutely amazing (and asked first) I am going to post a snippet of my NaNovel. I really love this piece, and am very proud of it. It came out much easier than I thought it would, to which I give all credit to my amazingly arrogant and rather mischievous Rorik ^_^

“It’s about time you showed up!” Advisor Judas hissed as Rorik sauntered into the throne room. Judas watched with obvious distaste as Rorik made his way up to where King Ormond sat on his golden throne, lazily swinging his feet about like a bored child.

“I am here to collect my payment, your majesty.” Rorik swept a hand outwards as he bowed.

“Prove to me that he is dead.” Ormond showed no sign of concern that the job was not done, but Judas had advised him to make sure it was.

Rorik smirked, “You mean, you won’t just take my word?”

“Of course not you bum!” Shouted Advisor Judas from beside the Kings throne.

Rorik stood straight, glaring at Judas who then shrunk under the gaze. Turning his attention back to the King, Rorik pulled a sack from his shirt. He tossed it at the King, who fumbled it slightly then weighed it in his hand. As he started to open it, Rorik cleared his throat.

“Unless your majesty has a strong stomach, I don’t advise looking in the bag.” The Advisor gave the assassin a contemptuous glance, then opened the bag, turning it bottom side up so the contents fell into the Kings hand. Rorik let a small victory smile spread to one side of his lips. The King looked down in horror at the still warm heart in his hands. Blood dripped through his fingers onto his leggings as his face went paler than the white fur he wore around his neck.

The advisor looked green. “I warned you.” Rorik said, a savage glee evident in his tone.

The Advisor flicked the bag over the heart and used it to wiggle the slippery thing back into its pouch. “I assume that this is his heart?”

Rorik just crossed his arms and gave the advisor a condescending glare. “No shit Sherlock.”

The King flustered. “What are we going to do?” Ormond looked at his trembling blood stained hands. He had once thought greatly of Elkan, and now, he had been holding the young man’s heart in his hand.

“Sire?” The advisor looked shocked, and just stared at the King. “What do you mean? The problem has been taken care of, there is nothing left for us to do but to continue on with the rest of our… event.”

Rorik looked nonchalant, gazing around the throne room. Even though he had been in here before, he took great pains to seem invisible. He needed to gleam as much information from this quick meeting as he could.

“What are we going to tell Catrina? You know how much she has attached herself to Elkan…This will be a huge blow to her!” Ormond began to wipe his hands on the already blood stained leggings he wore. Once most of the blood was on his pants, he started wringing his together, a sure sign of his anxiety. “She’ll ask questions, what will I tell her?”

Advisor Judas just nodded his head sagely. “I’ve thought of that already. We shall tell her that he was in the forest training, when he was shot and killed by a huntsman.” He looked significantly over to Rorik. “The huntsman had mistaken him for a deer or boar, and shot him. He then came to the castle to plead to you for mercy.” He bowed his head again, and attempted a knowledgable smile.

King Ormond continued his anxious worrying of his hands. “But-“

“Sire please! She will be just fine, she’s so busy being with her friends that she won’t notice his absence. Just leave it to me, sire.” Judas bowed low and left the room, going to attend to the preperations.

King Ormond stared at his now still hands, his head and heart heavy. It was unfortunate that Elkan should be the first of many victims, but there was nothing he could do to change the plans. When Ormond looked up, he was surprised to see Rorik still standing there.

“What do you want?” He asked, getting nervous. Assassin’s always made Ormond nervous. Not as much as most Rangers did, but still. He didn’t like their ability to move about the shadows, kill, then slip away quietly before anyone even knew they were there. He admitted they were useful, but that didn’t dampen his fear.

“My payment. You have your proof, now give me my reward.” Rorik held his hand out. “You said thirteen thousand crowns, no less.”

The King looked wide eyed. “I thought Judas had given it to you.”

Rorik rushed the King, taking a knife from his waist and barely touching the Kings throat. “You calling me a liar?”

Ormond gulped. “N-No! No! I’ll get you your money!”

Rorik stepped back to his previous position, sliding the knife back into his secure hiding place amoung the many folds of his clothing. “Thank you, your highness. You are most gracious.”

King Ormond clapped his hands and waited until one of the servants showed up at his elbow. “Yes, bring me this man’s reward. Thirteen thousand crowns.” Ormond never took his fearful eyes from the assassin standing before him, still as stone. With his gray and black garb covering him from chin to toe, his arms crossed and his slate eyes cold as stone, he was a very menacing character.

Ormond waited in anxious silence while the servant was doing his bidding. After what seemed like an eternity later, the servant returned, with at least a dozen other servants, each carrying a large sack that jingled with every step they took. Most of the servants were men, since the bags were the size of small children and weighed at least twice as much. Each servant carrying a bag looked as if they were being led to the gallows, ashamed that they were carrying the blood money to be paid to the assassin who killed their friend. Rorik noticed this, and was glad of their moroseness. He watched with a smug smile as they laid their cargo in front of him. He flicked his gaze up to the King who visibly flinched.

“Very nice, your highness. I do hope that it truly is what we agreed upon. And I will be counting.” His tone was flat, and almost teasing, like a cat playing with a mouse it’s about to feast on. “And if you don’t mind, which I’m sure you don’t, I will borrow your servants. I need them to carry my gold to my abode, I certainly can’t carry it all on my own.”

He pinned Ormond down with a glare that broached no argument, and silently the King just nodded, his face still pale from the bloody incident, and Rorik could tell he desperately wished that his advisor was still around to be a shield. “Thank you, your highness. I’ll be in touch.” The last sentence was said with a thinly veiled threat, one that the King obviously heard and recognized, for he blanched further, which Rorik didn’t know was possible. “Now, please, servants. Follow me.” He lead the way from the great throne room to the courtyard, where he lead the servants like ants down through the town, into the forest. They went past the place where he had had his fight with Elkan, past a large waterfall, over several streams, and by the time they had reached their destination, the servants were so turned around, Rorik knew they wouldn’t be able to find their way back out even if they tried.

Rorik paused, and said very loudly, “Here we are. Please, follow me inside.” He held a screen of vine to the side, revealing a stained wooden door. He opened it, and the servants filed inside, sweat plastering their hair to their foreheads. The main room was dark, and looked like it had been carved out of the hillside itself. The walls and ceiling was all stone, but more square like than what a cave would be. They dropped their bags of gold near the far wall, where Rorik had motioned to. More than half of the servants dropped to the ground on their bottoms, breathing heavily. Out of the dozen servants, there were 8 men, leaving four women, and Rorik was surprised by the strength of the women. He had thought they would have staggered more than they had on the journey.

“May I interest you in some water?” He held up a large skin and wasn’t surprised by the look of greed in their eyes. He handed it to the woman who was closest to him. Her hair was long and as gold as the money in the bags they had carried, tied back with a single strip of leather in, now, a very loose braid. She wore a plain brown dress with a stained yellowed apron. She was thin, and had lots of flour under her fingernails. She took only a small mouthful before she passed it along. Rorik was intrigued by this, and made a note of her.

After all the servants had had their fill of water, he took the skein back. Now all of the servants were on the floor, but most were breathing much easier. He watched them for a moment, trying to decided how to broach the subject best. Not thinking of anything better, he began. “What would you do if I told you Elkan was not dead?”

All of the servants snapped their heads up to stare at him in utter confusion. After a beat, an older man stood and said, “How dare you mock us in our grief! You killed him and cut out his heart all for this money.” He swooped his arm in an arc indicating the bags of gold. After his bold statement, the rest of the servants began to stir.

Rorik was pleased. The fact that they were defending Elkan was a good sign. “How many of you were close to him?” He asked, a hand placed thoughtfully under his chin as he studied them.

“We all were.” The young girl with long gold hair said. Her voice was quiet, but strong.

“Oh?” Rorik studied her. She was quite attractive, probably in her early twenties. Her eyes were a soft green, like spring grass. She smelled of baked goods and bread, and he could see little bits of flour on her cheek where a hand swipe had marked its passage along her face.

All the servants were now standing. “What’s to keep us from getting you? There are twelve of us, and only one of you.” They started closing in on Rorik, who just looked amused.

“That won’t be necessary.” Elkan stepped out from behind a leather flap that lead to another room. A collective gasp ran through the servants.

“But – How?” They all looked on in wonder as their friend was alive and talking to them.

“I’ll explain in a moment.” Elkan went around the servants giving and receiving hugs and pats on the back. He stopped when he saw the dozen bags against the rock wall. “Rorik? What is all this?”

“This, my dear Ranger, is the money I got for killing you.” Rorik sounded mightily pleased with himself.

Elkan just whistled. “You get paid this much for failing to kill someone? How much do you get if you actually get your mark?” He paused a moment to let his comment sink into Rorik. He smiled when he just got a glare back. Turning his attention back to the gold, he added, “I daresay I shall have to make a habit of having you kill me more often.”