The Betrayal

‘In times of war, trust is luxury you cannot afford.’ - Leavoht, Shadow master of the Cobra disciples- l It was a stormy night. Thalin knew the building had to be close. He had been skulking through the Noble district for over one hour now. Oh, how he hated the Zhent cities! This had to be the one. He had been searching for far too long. He stared at the entry of the strange spiral building from the balcony he was hiding under. The light the windows shed on the balcony provided an even sharper contrast with the darkness underneath it where he was hiding. He slowly released his grip on the wall he was hugging. A silent landing after a 10 meter drop and he was in the shadows again. He was the best Shadow ever trained by the Trickster, the Vulshan leader. There would be no mistakes, no trouble, and no mercy. Heck, if he did this job well he might even become Executioner, Shadow master or who knows, maybe even the next Trickster. He suddenly remembered the first thing the Academy of The Shade had taught him. “Focus only on the goal, all else is meaningless unless it helps achieve the goal.” He had no time to think about his career or his ambitions, right now, the only thing that was important was the goal. He sprinted across the street and rapidly hid within a nearby shadow. He wondered whether the guard in front of the building had even noticed the sound, let alone the movement itself. He thought about leaving the guard alive but he decided his death would cause the necessary distractions. The shadows melded with his body as he inched closer, his footsteps as silent as a cat’s. ‘The shadows are the only ally you can rely on, use them whenever you can.’ The doctrines hammered through his mind as he slowly drew his weapon. The poor soldier never knew what hit him. Thalin estimated it would take roughly a minute for the guard to be discovered. Perfect. He quickly started to scale the section of wall next to the door. The walls of the tower were rough and provided plenty of hand and footholds but it was slippery. And so tall! He figured it would be a half an hour climb up to the top. No problem, he didn’t need to reach the top, just the nearest window above the 20 metres. He started to climb a bit faster as he heard the commotion underneath him. A dead guard had been discovered, with a slit throat. Whoever did this must have gone inside. Quickly, send all soldiers to the first and second floor. He laughed to himself as the guards followed the exact plan of action as he had expected. As he reached the nearest window he saw another guard look outside at the commotion. He looked…confused. He couldn’t see a person, yet he knew for certain that underneath him there was a person climbing towards him. He was blacker than the night, a void within the darkness, barely noticeable but there nonetheless. He wondered whether he should call out. A poisoned dart ended his puzzlement. As he climbed through the window he looked down upon the fallen corpse of the guard. He wore the universal Zhent guard robe, a mask of tight leather straps and the omnipresent spiral that represented infinity painted on his robe with the even more omnipresent book painted next to it. Knowledge, all Zhent were knowledge obsessed. So obsessed that even this world was not enough for them, oh no! The intelligent bastards decided that much is to be gained from other worlds and the possibility of travelling between worlds was enough to make them hungry with desire. And so they invented the ‘Gate’ spell, an incantation that created a gap in space-time, allowing its passengers to travel anywhere. But, there was a catch. It was impossible to accurately predict where a gate would lead, to which dimension, time or place. You could for instance open a gate to the Dreagon homeplane, but it could be at any point in time, at any place with any kind of variation possible. This is how the Zhent had discovered the Canith. A race that had originated in only one probability out of infinity, a race that was not meant to be, a race that held fantastic power and untold potential in the multiverse. The theory was that the Canith were not meant to be because their very existence seemed anathema to the rest of the multiverse. A race of genetically engineered killing machines led by insane, alien masterminds almost divine in power and intellect. Oh, what knowledge they possessed, what secrets they kept! However, the foolish Zhent decided it would pose a great risk to try and deal with these creatures. What morons! Even though the Zhent never revealed their findings, the Vulshan found out nevertheless. None were more proficient in the subtle art of treachery and espionage then the Vulshan. ‘I want that power,’ the Trickster ordered, and when the trickster ordered, it was wise to comply. He started down a circular passageway and found what he was looking for. The stairs. They seemed to be an endless spiral, leading up, but that was of no concern, he knew were he had to be. He heard the footsteps of the guards echo all the way up here. They were sweeping the tower, floor by floor, the fools. However, the second echoes made the blood freeze in his veins. They were coming form up the stairs. This meant that he was essentially trapped. He had to hurry! He quickly sprinted up the stairs, disregarding stealth and silence. He ran up the stairs, ten steps, then forty then hundred until he was no longer counting. He drew his daggers as he heard the clamour of footsteps coming at him. Two guards, both unarmed came down. The first failed to notice what the blackness in front of him was just as it plunged its weapon into his throat. The second managed a combat stance before the Assassin jumped against the wall and slashed his second weapon across his throat without even pausing his sprint. The guard made a low gurgling noise as he fell from the steps, further delaying his fellows downstairs. Thalin suddenly stopped in front of a large door. He knew this place. He had infiltrated this place before. This had to be the place. He quickly picked the lock, bypassed the traps and kicked in the door. It was here, it had to be here! He ran into a small room. He could already hear the company of guards approaching the door. The desk, it was in the desk! He quickly hammered open the desk plate and inside he found a small scroll. He grabbed it just as the Warrior-monks ran in. Flowing robes, iron fists and lightning speed. He could fight four, maybe eight, but not twenty. He quickly threw a look at the parchment to determine whether it was the right one. His face paled as he quickly skimmed the parchments content. Even though he knew it was meaningless he tried the shadowstone that was supposed to teleport him to safety. The stone made a low humming noise and then disintegrated. As he prepared to defend himself, the monks simultaneously pulled of their robes, revealing the ritual tattoos and scars marking their rank and mastery in the Way, the Zhent national martial art. He didn’t stand a chance. As the monks descended upon him, he tried to take down as much as he could along with him slashing his poisoned blades in quick arcs and wounding and killing a few of them. And then came the pain. The brief muffled cries where stilled and there was only the dry thumping sound of fists hitting flesh and the breaking of bones. As the monks backed away, nothing remained of Thalim but a bloody pile of flesh and broken bones. ‘I wonder why the intruder chose this room to make his stance, master,’ one of the monks said. ‘I am equally curious, adept,’ the largest, most tattooed monk replied. ‘It seems that he was after this peace of parchment,’ another monk replied. The master slowly walked up to the bloody remains of Thalim, discarding the bloody rags that had once been his tunic and searching the body for the parchment. As he started to pale visibly, one of the initiates asked what was wrong. He remained silent and instead showed the note to his fellow monks. It read the following. Dear Thalin. You must be wondering why the scroll that contains the Gate spell coordinates is not in your hand but this note instead. We modified your memory to make you think the scroll was right here when it really was 10 floors higher. U where just a decoy meant to draw the guards away. If you are reading this you are dead, are going to die, or dying, I apologize for the betrayal but the Trickster seemed to think you were a threat to her reign. As you read this, the real scroll is being removed safely and without trouble for the decoy you created was admirably and certain to draw attention to everyone in the whole tower. You always were a bit too ambitious but I must admit I liked you. It has been an honour knowing you, Shadowmaster Trechan. As the monks hurried upstairs, the letter had slowly crumbled to dust and the names slowly faded form the warrior-monk’s memories, leaving no indication that the Vulshan had anything to do with the theft. Only the splattered remains of Thalin were left to remind all of Zhent that the Eternal library had been breached. The Vulshan were coming.

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