The man who lay slumped over the oaken desk was just like most men in this city. Powerful, wealthy with enough influence to sway royalty if it were within his grasp. The cold steel eyes of his were already starting to fade in color. His life essence stained the parchments upon his work station, seeping over the edge to puddle upon the expensive rug that adorned the floor of his study. The rest soaked into his silk shirt and vest, the comfy chair he sat in will have absorbed the rest ruining the intricate design the maker had slaved away so hard over. The fireplace on the wall opposite from him crackled as the log within snapped in two, sending sparks across the polished wooden floor. Firelight cast shadows over the study, the walls to the left and behind the individual were crammed with tomes and books, covering subjects ranging from the agricultural to military drills. A well informed man indeed. Pity for all the knowledge he knew of the city it did little to comfort him upon the hour of his abrupt departure from this world.

Too close my contractor said. He was getting too close to the royal family. While that may not sound all that worth my time, it was his intentions that drew my benefactor and his colleagues concern. Lord Adrian sought one simple wish: Power. He had plenty of it. He wielded it like a sword to his rivals, relished when it cut down the lesser folk and drank it up like the fine wines he consumed during his evening meals. And there lies the problem. Adrian wanted more. Not satisfied with being a lord, Adrian was working hard to get in good graces with the King and Queen. They had a son and daughter, a prince and princess both destined for great things. It was those steel eyes fancying the princess that sealed his end. Like those before him and would come after, Adrian craved more power. What better way then to maneuver oneself into the blood line via marriage.

So what was his folly that ended his presence on this earth? The princess's brother of course. The next in line for the throne, he would not sit idly and allow such a being attempt to usurp what was rightfully his. And so here I stand, wiping the blade that delivered the coup de' grace. I care not for the power struggles that occur between royal families, the lords and duchesses in this kingdom. Politics make my skull hurt more then an arrow ricocheting off the bone. The maid will find Adrian's body come morning. By then he'll be as cold and stiff as the other corpses already buried in the graveyard to the east. By the time news of his death have spread, the prince will have made a statement condemning Adrian and tarnishing his name for generations. Like my line of work some royal members can be so devious when it suits them. Must be those crowns and tiaras they wear in public. Too tight or metal poisoning being absorbed through the skin.

A light flickers in the window drawing my attention. A few minutes later the sound of thunder rumbles outside. Sheathing the blade within the scabbard under my cloak I make for the same way I entered. It happened to be up through the attic out a small window. Quietly opening the door that shows the entrance of the study to the main hallway, a quick glance reveals that all is quiet this night. Slipping in the shadows I pass by other rooms where maids, butlers and a few family members sleep soundly. Unaware of the grim discovery they will encounter come morning. Up the ladder I go, pulling it with me before locking the overhead door shut. The sound of rain drums on the roof over my head while the sound of gushing water can be heard as it pours from the storm drains to the cobbled streets below. I tighten my cloak and adjust the hood before exiting the window I pried open earlier this evening.

The town is almost vacant with many a denizen already in bed for the night. Only the night watch and lamp lighter make their rounds this wet and dismal night. Lightly treading, I leap from one roof top to the next being mindful of the wet shingles Rain makes it more challenging to keep my balance and the risk of falling from a slip up is all the more greater. Something I am used to having been in the southern region during the fall monsoons. Always wet and soaked to the bone when taking a job there. Makes the fire place that more comforting when the work is done. Farewell city of Azur.

To the east of Azur lay a forest that grew wild and untamed over the years. People have attempted to stake a foot hold in its outer borders, only to be thwarted by how resilient and aggressive nature can be. If its not the wild life the resides within the trees, its the plant life itself. One of the few reasons it makes for a stealthy escape should a common thief or criminal wish to avoid the guards. But its the same wild life that makes it that more dangerous. Rumors of wild magic unchecked was one of the reason why attempts to control the forest's growth was in vain. Others claim its the presence of the wild life within the influence the forest's expansion across the lands. Night is when they are most active and any poor fool caught inside are doomed to never be seen or heard from again. So why was it that yours truly was entering the forest if he knew well the dangers lurking on the other side?

I had followers tailing me. I'd noticed them the moment I had slipped past the East Gate of Azur. To someone of my occupation a citizen or guard would think twice, nay never even consider wishing to stalk me day or night. Mostly at night. Whoever these lackeys were, they were either future employment or future animal feed and plant food. The ground is covered in a layer of dead and dying leaves fallen from the mighty trees that act like gates, barring mankind from the outside. Broken branches and twigs litter the carpeted forest floor adding to the danger of unwittingly announcing oneself to the wild creatures in the wood that an early dinner bell had been rung. Until tonight. The storm above is showing no signs of letting up. The constant pitter patter of rain droplets upon leaves, shrubs and branches add to the growing sounds of the evening noise already present by the nocturnal residents. Therefore it was safe to say that stepping in puddles besides snapping twigs will not give my or rather our location to potential hungry predators hunting this night.

The deeper I head into the forest, the thicker the air and trees seem to feel. Like an invisible rope is closing around my windpipe making difficult to breath at times. An odd feeling, one I've yet to encounter at the hands of an executioner. My trailers no doubt must be experiencing the same feeling due to their slowing of pace. Did I also mention it was growing darker, the deeper we traversed? My sight may be keen for the night, but I'm no cat or feline predator. The darkness is closing in around me much like the noose around my neck. Inky, thick, black nothingness that even the greatest sword of the finest steel can not cut through. The untamed magic. Some one or thing does not like our presence here. Go figure.

So en wrapped in these bizarre sensations, I nearly knock myself senseless on a cold stone wall. Stubbing my toe on a protruding rock is to be thanked for. One hand darts out on instinct and I am saved from ringing my head upon the surface. Strange. For all the tales and stories about the forest there was no mention of anyone succeeding on building anything this deep in the woods. I pause and gather my current surroundings. Trees with massive branches hanging overhead seem to halt just outside the wall's perimeter. Curious. Ignoring the fact that I am still being pursued, I follow along the stone wall until a broken section along the side reveals a dimly visibly floor to the inside. Slipping inside I am rewarded with the sound of water drip dripping onto the crumbled pillars that lay along what looks to be a hallway. The ceiling is partially caved in allowing much of the rain water to seep inside and further erode this already ancient structure. On my left is a broken archway where I'm guessing huge oak doors once stood. Much of the wood is rotted away, reclaimed by the very earth this place was built upon. To my right the main pathway continues, a small staircase can be seen leading up to an empty dais. A throne room? The chairs are all but missing and its too dark to make out the torn tapestries hanging from the back wall. Just what what is this place? Some sort of cathedral? I notice that whatever was constricting me in the forest was suddenly gone. A sort of safe haven against the forest perhaps?

The sound of someone grunting followed by a loud slap! against the wall near the self made entrance has informed me, my pursuers have finally caught up. I slip among the shadows, sliding the straps away from my twin blades mounted on my back preparing for the worst. A flicker of lightning quickly illuminates the interior from the hole in the ceiling. I see my followers fumbling around as they enter, cautious as they can be. Definitely strange. Thunder rumbles overhead, one of them whipping out a curved dagger in fright.

"Put that away!" Growled one of them, smacking the youngest of the three over his hand. He yelps and nearly drops the dagger, fumbling for it as it tumbles from his wet grasp.

"Are ye sure he went in here?" The taller of the three muttered, trying to make a torch out of what materials laying around in this structure. Good luck. Everything is soaked, so unless he brought dry cloth with kerosine for fuel its not going to improve his chances of light.

"I'm sure of it. The footprints lead inside here." The leader of the group replied.

"What are we even doing out here?" The youthful one anxiously asked as he sheathed his dagger.

"We're here because we were paid to be here, that's why." The leader growled again. While his answer seems gruff, no doubt just like the youngster he had no desire to be here anymore than his colleagues. The tallest grumbled and cursed before tossing aside the wet branch he snapped from some of the trees they traversed by.

"T'aint no good. Wood is too damp to make a decent torch. Unless you want to stumble in the dark, we got no choice. We need the lamp."

The leader spoke again,"We ain't using no lamp! Give our position away and we'll be dead before you know it."

"I still don't know why you took the job from that thing. You know what a Reaper is. This one happens to be the nastiest of them all."

"All the more reason to end him. Bring back his head to the guard and presto! We're set for life."

Future employment they were not. So some unknown employer hired them to eliminate me, then offer my head on a silver platter as proof for a hefty reward from the guard. Never a dull moment I suppose. I plot my next course. I could just exit and leave these fools to meander and stumble about these ruins. Course then what kind of assassin would I be if I let them live? Harsh you must be thinking to slay them here. Hey I never said my occupation was glamorous. Besides these cutthroats want to get into a scuffle with me. It's time to reinforce the reason why we Reapers are well respected and feared. As the trio make their way around one of the columns that lay across the path, I make my way around them silent as can be. The youngest is my first target. Nervous, nearly scared out of his wits. The least troubling of the group and the easiest to remove. The leader and the tall one pause to gaze up at the stairwell to the dais, leaving the young man vulnerable.

I slip behind him one gloved hand grasping over his nose and mouth firmly. My other arm wraps around his waist and I yank hard while simultaneously close off his means of exhaling. His cries are muffled and his ability to fight back are thwarted by the wet carpet we stand on. His flailing arms try to pull mine away, but my grip is like a coiling serpent. By the time his fellow lackeys turn around, we've both vanished into the shadows.

"Jerry?" Their leader called out, shocked that their dear young friend had simply vanished. Well he hasn't vanished. Not magically anyway.

The tall one pulls out the lamp and proceeds to use kerosine to fill it. Despite how tough he is, the trembling hands spill much of the oil on the floor. Shaking still, he fumbles with the flint and after a few misfires lights the lamp. A pale yellow glow washes over the ruins giving a dim illumination of the place. Most of the walls are seeped with rainwater tricking from the cracks in the ceiling. There are hardly any dry spots, so if any poor soul managed to find shelter here they can forget it on rainy nights.

"Jerry?" The leader calls again, louder. He slides a hand to his side and pulls out a sword, grasping the hilt tightly while his taller companion continues to search where poor Jerry last stood.

"The hell he go? I swear if that cowardly bastard turned tail and ran, those damn monsters in the forest will be the LEAST of his problems!"

A dull thump on the stairwell draws their attention, courtesy of yours truly. Jerry tumbles down the steps and comes to a rest at the bottom, three needles jutting from his neck. His eyes are glazed over and hes not even breathing. Poison. Nature's silent killer and a favorite among assassins every where. His colleagues prod him lightly, but there is no response.

"By the gods..." The leader whispers,"Took him like that then just upped and offed him." Say a prayer for poor Jerry. You'll both will be seeing him soon in the afterlife.

"You devil!" He shouted, swinging his sword about,"Come out and face us coward. A real man would face his end face to face, not hide in the shadows like a whimpering bitch!"

The light in the tall one's grasp goes out with a gust of wind. He drops it with a gasp and their source of light shatters upon the floor, sending shards of broken glass around them.

"Dammit Ford!" The leader bellowed. Ford, as the tall one was named reached into his coat and pulled out another lamp. Well he came prepared at least. He lights the wick inside and once again, a pale yellow light was cast over the interior. As dear Ford turned to see his leader, his eyes fell upon the back of a cloaked figure standing between him and his boss. I give him no time to react. A thrusting back kick finds the heel of my boot planting firmly in his gut, knocking the air from him and sending the man to tumble backwards. The leader snarls and brings his sword down in a overhead blow, intent on cleaving me in two. I swing upwards, my kris blade singing as it rings against his blade. I push forward forcing him back while my other arm whips around, my other kris lashing out in a mid section sweep aiming to disembowel him.

He stumbles and scrambles out of my reach, only to trip over the body of dear departed Jerry. Its all I need to quickly close the gap between us, even before he draws his sword up in a defensive position. My blade buries itself in his right side puncturing flesh, muscle and scrapes against bone as a lung collapses. I see his eyes widen as they stare into my own cold blue ones. Then they soften as the life fades from them. Drawing one leg up, I extract my blade from the collapsing body. Instinct tells me to duck and I oblige just in time to hear the whistling sound of a sword nearly give me a sudden height reduction. Ford caught his breath rather quickly. Then again not only was he tall, but rather large. I turn to face him only to see a broad sword bear down upon me. I roll to the side as the blade rings against the floor, the torn carpet taking the brunt of the force.

"I'll gut you, ya filthy bastard." Ford snarled as he moved in on me,"I'll carve their names into your bloody torso once I sever every one of your damn limbs!"

Promises, promises. I sheath one kris and hold out the other, the tip poised at Ford. I place both my index and middle finger against the base of the sword, muttering an incantation. In doing so, I slide my fingers from base to tip while the metal turns a pale blue as magic whispers within the runes appearing on one side. The sword stirs and awakens to its owner's call. Ford looks a little uneasy. His once brash and bold posture shifts to one of uncertainty and hesitation. I say nothing but keep my eyes upon him, letting him see my stare from beneath my cloak's hood. I dart in my sword singing in my grasp. Ford brings up his sword to counter each of my swinging blows. Steel rings against magical metal as kris and broad sword meet blow for blow. With each blow, Ford notices that his sword is starting to feel heavier and heavier. It makes his effort to swing it much more difficult. After the sixth blow, the weight of his own sword brings it crashing down, shattering as it strikes the ground. Shards of broken metal, encrusted in ice litter the floor, leaving him nothing but the guard, pommel and hilt.

He looks up, just in time to feel the blade slide into his chest. He inhales with a sharp gasp as a bitter cold envelops his body. Teeth chattering, Ford looks down to find my kris buried deep within him. There are no words, just a shocked expression that slowly fades into a neutral visage. I tap my sword whispering another incantation and the runes fade. I withdraw my kris letting Ford's lifeless and semi frozen corpse fall to join his fallen companions. Three novice thugs who were paid to track down a Reaper and attempt to collect a reward for his head? This trio was not playing with a full deck. Whomever sent them after me was either misinformed or unstable in terms of mental condition.

As I ponder the sad fate of these three, I ignore the sound of thunder rumbling overhead. This snuffs the sound of more footsteps entering the cathedral.

"Impresssssive." A voice hissed not to far behind me.

Two throwing daggers send the speaker scurrying for cover behind one the fallen columns. The blades ricochet off the stone, clattering away in the darkness. I leap towards where the hidden adversary lay, hearing it shriek in terror as my kris misses its head by a few inches. The blade trembles as it strikes stone while my eyes follow a cloaked figure scrambling for more cover. Pulling out a thin long chain, I whirl it around a few times before letting it soar. The end with a weight attached wraps around a leg and I give a hearty yank. The being squeaks... squeaks? in shock as it tumbles. I'm upon it as it rolls on its back, both blades poised on each side of its neck ready to add to my body count.

"I yield! Hear me out Reaper, ssstay thy bladess!" it hissed in fright.

I grunt to let it acknowledge that I heard it. That doesn't mean I'm letting it up. Three thugs tried to kill me and failed miserably at it, now this creature. And the night isn't even over yet.

"I was the one who hired those three whom now lay cold upon the floor behind uss." It gulps and squirms as my swords begin to close around its neck,"Wait, wait, wait! I only did it to see if the rumors were true about you Reapersss! I see my doubts have vanished!"

"There are two reasons why a person who seek a Reaper out. One for hiring. Or two because they are idiotic enough to send a couple of goons in, then foolishly admit their part in it knowing full well the fatal consequences of their actions to begin with. Which one are you?"

The creature shivered beneath its cloak,"A bit of both, leaning towardss the first?"

"Talk." I replied, gruffly.

"My queen wishess to hire you for your skillss Reaper. The pay will be most rewarding, enough that one of your reputation could retire and live a quiet life perhapss."

I nod slightly. The creature continues,"Of course I wasn't sseeking just any Reaper for this task. No, no you were the most worthy of the choice whose reputation precedes that was deemed the most worthy in the line of work my queen hass for you."

"And what exactly about my reputation that your queen deems worthy?"

Buzzing. By the gods and deities, I swore I heard faint buzzing like insect wings rustling beneath the creature's cloak.

"You're the only one of the Reapers to have killed an immortal."

Immortal.

That word had my stomach churning and twisting in ways that would make even the most complex puzzle seem simple. This was brought up by some rather troubling images. Images I tried my damnest to bury back into the deepest crevices of my brain. I let up and stumble backwards, sitting hard on another column ignoring the dampness of the rain above. The creature rises to its feet and cautiously approaches. I swore I heard four hooves tapping the stone floor muffled by the carpeting. Some rustling in the folds of one's cloak and a bag lands at my feet part of its contents spilling onto the ground. Reaching down, I feel smooth stones against my glove. Grasping a few I pull them up to see what they were. A flash of lightning provides the briefest of light and a few gems glitter in my palm. A couple of rubies, a few sapphires and even some jade.

"Just a sample of what my queen is offering." The creature buzzed in my ear,"Should you accept, more will await you when the job is finished. Come back here tomorrow so that we can discuss your contract."

The thing takes to the air. Yes, you read it. To the air. The buzzing of wings from underneath its cloak has it airborne with a few flaps. It chitters oddly to itself and departs, leaving me with the bodies of three goons and terrible memories. Memories I wish I could rip from my brain and burn them in the hottest fires of the underworld just to rid them for good.

Author's Note

Checked, double checked, triple checked, quad checked and even then more checking. Course that still does not mean I've handled any possible mistakes that may lurk here. @.@

This story came to mind while another story was coming to a close. I hope those who read this likes it and of course, anything grammar and word wise that I dun goofed on is appreciated.