Assassins' Guild of Obseen: The Cost of Redemption

By Lindsey Cowherd

The Year was 1921 Star Date (S.D.)
People left the dirty, war-torn Earth in search of a new life on a handful of newly discovered planets past Neptune. Eight were found: New Earth, Planet X, the Sentinals (1,2, and 3), O’washia, Al Tor, and Obseen...

The Current Year is 4027 Star Date (SD): Welcome to Obseen, planet of assassins. It has been three years since the Royals' War, where the Assassins' Guild took back control of their planet, Obseen, from Emperor Manscor and his allies. The Assassins' Guild of Obseen has restored itself to pre-war status: business as usual per Guild regulation, bi-monthly clan tournaments, and the reenactment of the planetary Yearly Tournaments... Yet, there are undercurrents within the Guild that show not all is as peaceful as it seems. Skeletons of the Royals' War still exist and scars remain in the hearts of the people. Conflict is bound to prevail as long as these issues remain unaddressed... The one assassin who can break the illusion of peace has returned to the capitol; her coming may be the catalyst for new beginnings for Obseen--or her presence could be the Guild's final undoing. Only time will tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsey Cowherd
• Release date: Oct 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463413586

Lindsey Cowherd

Lindsey Cowherd lives in Salida, CO, where she was born and raised. She lives with her sweetie, Michael, who somehow tolerates her horse-craziness and love of all-things-Asian.Licensed as an acupuncturist since 2010, Lindsey still finds time for the small stuff: writing, watching almost anything Asian on Netflix, singing and playing guitar, but especially enjoying her two horses, Bricco and Tyrra, and two dogs, Ms. K and Huffington.She started writing “novels” at a young teen; the Assassins' Guild books being among the first she ever thought up that was beyond her normal obsession of horses. Turning to a world immersed in martial arts, magic, and “places not of this world” allowed her an outlet from everyday living and circumstances out of her control. Now, they are a place to allow her imagination to run wild. In 2019, Lindsey delved into the genre of cowboy romances and found she liked it just as much. With so many possibilities it keeps her worlds alive and growing.

Book preview

The Cost of Redemption

By: Lindsey Cowherd

All Rights Reserved

***Copywrite 2019***

Self-Published by Lindsey Cowherd

Cover art by SelfPubBookCovers.com/rgporter

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

BOOK CONTEST

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication Quote

Backstory

Forward

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Aftermath (Chapter Forty-Three)

Tailpiece (Chapter Forty-Four)

Character List

Author Request

Acknowledgements

Author Bio

Other Books by Author

Sometimes you have to walk a dark road to get to the light.

—unknown

Backstory

Author Note: there are a number of details omitted from this accounting. For the back-history on the Abyss Solar System (and how humanity ended up there) reference the prequel book: Vision of a Torn Land. Though these two books can stand alone from each other, some details will be incomplete without one book or the other. Some of these backstory entries are comprised from pieces taken from the prequel book. This sequel book is written three years post Royals’ War (which the Vision of a Torn Land is written). Thus, it is more light-hearted than its prequel. The AG books are written in a Star Date era, post A.D. timeline.

Entry One: Year: 1921 S.D. [entry on Abyss Solar System as repeated from prequel book]

Many people left the dirty, war-torn Earth in search of a new life on a handful of newly discovered planets past Neptune. Eight were found: New Earth, Planet X, the Sentinals (1,2, and 3), O’washia, Al Tor, and Obseen… A new government called the Unified Earth Forces took control of New Earth; its government would control how the other planets would be run... O’washia and the Sentinals were inhabited by many diverse cultures who wished to be separate from the UEF— eventually they were able to attain this freedom.

Planet X was given to the control of kings and queens, so that the Royals could keep an eye on Obseen, the planet turned into a prison for the unruly assassins. Al Tor became the other prison planet; a place for those considered terrorists and crazies.

Entry Two: Back History of Obseen; the wars that shaped the planet

There were five planetary wars on Obseen that shaped (over hundreds of years) the creation of the Assassins’ Guild and its clan structures. Aptly named Bloody Wars by UEF scholars, these wars were usually long, bloody turf-wars that eventually created the seventy-two clans of Obseen. Mostly, these fights seemed meaningless (to scholars of the UEF) but were paramount to how the assassins of Obseen were able to survive on the deadly planet.

The First War started eight-hundred-and-two years after the assassins were imprisoned on Obseen. Clans, newly formed and growing larger by the year, fought against one another intermittently for sixty-seven long years. This fighting ended up establishing the boundaries and territories of Obseen. Seventeen High clans, who had proven their powers supreme over the others, came together and laid out the boundaries of fourteen territories; each clan was given their own city within the territory of the High clan they supported most. United, the seventeen High clans began to set up what would later transform into the planetary laws of the Assassins' Guild.

The Blind War followed the First War, nine years later. It started from a revolt of lower-class clans against their respective Higher-clansmen; the cause was from the lack of support from the Higher clans to counter a disease called the stone-blindness plague, which was running rampant through the northern territories of Obseen. This plague, originally from Sentinal 2, had been carried to Obseen by patrolling UEF soldiers and was laying waste to lower-clansmen who lacked needed medicines and support. [Without medicine a person either dies, the usual result, or becomes permanently blind.] Many of the lower-class clans were unable to receive necessary medicines to treat this disease. Outraged that the High-clans did not come to their aid as petitioned, many of the suffering clans took up arms against the High clans in hopes that they could steal the needed medicinals to heal their people.

Resentments from the Blind War simmered under the placid surface, until, finally they carried over to start the Dark Revolution, Obseen’s third war. Lasting five years, the still-angered clans revolted against others, spreading across the planet until not a single city was left untouched by the fighting. However, the seventeen High clans were able to prove their leadership abilities that time around. Using their combined powers, the High clans finally brought the war to a close on the eve of the fifth year. Following the war, the High clans sought a solution to equalize the powers of the seventy-two clans. In the star date year 3990, the official Assassins’ Guild was created and its main council was established at Taysor, the only territory not held by a High-clan; governed instead by Royals. Four seats were given to each clan, to be held by elected members for a five-year term. The power of the seventeen High clans was lowered so that the lesser clans could take an equal part creating the laws of the Guild.

The fourth war was, in a way, a continuation of the Dark Revolution. It began nine years after the creation of the Assassins' Guild. Most called it the Power Struggle, for indeed it was more of the same type of bickering that had ensued during the previous wars. Though this war was the smallest (lasting only one year) it was by far the most important. It tested the strength of the new Guild, as clans still skeptical over the new system tried ways to break from the Assassins' Guild. The small battles proved to be less than bothersome to the planet as a whole and were quickly and efficiently neutralized. The Guild proved, by the war’s end, its strength and structures were strong enough to hold together despite the lack of trust from certain assassins. The new government had truly unified the clans.

The Power Struggle was followed by twenty-one years of calm and growth. The Royals from Planet X, who had left the assassins to their squabbles until then, found ways to unite with the assassin people. The Assassins’ Guild was found to be efficacious in the building of starships and architectural construction because of its love for the arts (painting, drawing, sculpting, music…etc.). Above all, Obsarians were gifted in the arts of war: combat training, espionage, hacking, and the mastery of the martial arts. The babysitters, as the Royals jokingly called themselves, found their children were in little need of mediation. The new Assassins' Guild was a force to be reckoned with.

However, this Golden Age was ruined by one Royal-assassin who looked at the Assassins’ Guild as an untapped source for a war campaign against the UEF (thus, conquering and controlling all of the Abyss Solar System); Prince Chang Xi, who had grown up in his father's enormous palace in Taysor and trained in martial arts at the training center in Taysor, began his bid to control the Assassins' Guild from the inside out. Taking over his father's position as the leader of the Royals in Taysor [after King Chiang Xi’s death 4011 SD], he asserted himself at the head of the Assassins’ Guild. In less than a year, he amassed enough support to control the capitol. King Xi took up the Suez name Manscor (man killer) to assert himself into a new role as Emperor of Obseen. In earnest, Manscor began his bid to conquer the rest of the planet. Thus opened the latest war of Obseen: the Royals' War.

Entry Three: The Royals War 4012-4024 S.D. (prequel book is about the final year)

The Royals' War started in 4012. Manscor's forces clashed with an opposing force, calling themselves the Lakean Resistance (made of assassins opposing the rule of one leader; it was led by two great Las’wa leaders: Ze’is and Mei’cor Coursay’sora). Six months into the war, the resistance was sent a defining blow at the city of Barashi; however, it did become a turning point of the war. The Lakean Resistance had been made up of a number of influential assassins; the deaths of these assassins enraged a great number of clans. Angered at the insult to these great leaders, as well as, the growing atrocities from Manscor’s people, more and more clans rose out of their stupor and joined the resistance—re-emerged as a force called the Renegade Army. By the year 4021, the Renegade Army began to push the Royal guards and Emperor’s Elite (called Honoreds) back toward the capitol, showing their slow progress toward victory over Manscor. By the next year, half of the planet was reclaimed by the Renegades.

Two Royal families, the Novastones and Dozes, made covert plans within the Assassins’ Guild in hopes of re-unifying Royal and Guild connections to bring down the emperor. Including support from the underground-dwelling Las'wa clan, (disappeared from the war since the Battle at Barashi), as well as from hidden agents in a secret society called the Legion of Leaders, the resistance began plans to take down the Emperor and his Honoreds and Royal guards from within the Assassins’ Guild.

To this effect, the Las’wa clan released to the Renegades a small band of specialty trained assassin youths to be planted in the Assassins' Guild at Taysor, right underneath Manscor's nose. Unfortunately, a leak ruined the plans of the day, and the group of preshans were attacked on their journey to Taysor. Only one Las’wa youth was planted successfully. With the young girl, Zanishiria Coursay’sora, hidden at the training center as a young Royal-girl, the Renegades continued their own battles across the planet, continuing to push the Royal guard back into Shaytyar (territory where the capitol Taysor sits), as well as, growing their opposition within the Guild itself.

The Emperor Manscor was finally killed in 4024 S.D. by the assassin-girl Zanishiria, just as the Renegade Army broke into the capitol city. The young girl’s announcement to the two armies on the steps of the Taysor Palace, told of the end of the war; the reason for the fighting was over; Emperor Manscor had been killed! The Assassins’ Guild was finally able to re-establish itself without the control of a single figure-head.

Entry Four: The territories/regions of Obseen (for reference):

There are fourteen territories on Obseen, defined by natural boundaries that give rise to the ten region that make up the topography of Obseen. The capitol of Obseen (and seat-head of the Assassins’ Guild) is in the Taysor Valley, a seven-miles-long tarol tree valley that drops from the land around it. Bordering it, are the territories: Balthnor, Nyhore, Bialthioum, and Ghaystouw. Respectively, these territories are made of four vegetation types, giving rise to the names of these region. Balthnor, Nyhore, and Xsenume are made mostly of obsidian plateaus called the Xsor Plateau; however, Balthnor also boasts some tarol forests, called Chareim, which are also seen in the Chartar, Takato, and Tatauku territories. Those three south-westerly territories also boast the Nalar Plains that run the entire width of their northern borders and the western area of Edis’daln. To the east of Balthnor, is the Naieej, a rugged region of plains and arroyos that butt up to the Shatray region in the territory of Traygor. West of Balthnor and Taysor, in Ghaystouw, is a region made up of the Ghantaur Plains that then run into the Zaphara Desert of Edis’daln—its center is nicknamed the Smelter Lands because the area becomes so hot. The territories of Imari, Imak, and Karnak to the north are also desert. Lastly, south of Taysor Valley is the territory of Bialthioum, hosting the largest region, called the Hills of Bialthioum. These strange and unique territories and regions of Obseen are host to the Seventy-two established clans of the Assassins’ Guild.

Entry Five: The Codes of the Assassins’ Guild (for reference):

The codes of the Assassins’ Guild are strict and honor-based. At first glance, they seem to be little things, but on a deeper inspection there are many levels to them that create a very complicated system of ethics. In this system, there are three main levels: honor, name, and clan. Depending on the clan or an assassin’s own sense of integrity, however, even these three levels have many sublevels that most non-Obsarians don’t understand.

Honor for every occasion is by far the most important code to uphold. Honor for self, honor for family, and honor for clan. A high regard for life is among this level, for most clans feel life is sacred. Along with this, is a sense of respect to any other person; however, it can easily be lost if someone has done wrongly or acted wrongly. In general, though, honor must be how each assassin interprets it and how they uphold it during their life.

Name is the second level of the code and usually brings with it special meanings or intentions. Calling a person’s sur-name is seen as the deepest respect. By this then, a name becomes far more than just something to call someone. There are three things name gives an assassin. These are: a position, weapons’-mastery, or significance. Position means placement in a clan. Certain lineages of assassins have long-established themselves are esteemed leaders or fighters; thus, an assassins’ sur-name can indicate to others their position within certain clans or even to the Guild without needing further introduction. Weapons’-mastery is self-explanatory; some assassins have established themselves as following a lineage of weapons’-mastery. To signify this to others, these assassins take a sur-name of their weapon of choice. Significance is what an assassin may wish to convey of him/herself to the Guild. This third use of name usually comes from a clan’s language, taken to give themselves a unique signature to be respected or referred to for the rest of their life.

Despite name being very significant to an assassin, there are ways to be stripped a name. If the Guild council feels an assassin has greatly dishonored their ancestral line, they can divest the offender of their sur-name or their entire name. Such an act renders that person clanless. Without a name and clan to belong to, an assassin becomes an outcast, or defect; dishonorable (usually for life).

The third level of code, is the upholding of the clan and its honor and integrity. Being that there are seventy-five clans in all on Obseen but only seventeen High-clans, each clans-men had a duty to first represented their clan and then uphold the strength of the Assassins’ Guild. Until Manscor ended the practice in 4013 S.D., fighting tournaments were held for two weeks out of the year, in different cities across the globe, to show what each clan was capable of. Prestige and leadership roles could be won during such tournaments. These Yearly Tournaments were re-established after Manscor’s death in 4024 S.D.

The codes of the Assassins’ Guild continue further, following the ancient practice of Bushido (the eight codes of virtues), as well as other martial arts codes of old. In quick review these are as follows: justice, courage, benevolence, politeness, honesty/sincerity, honor, loyalty, and self-control. It is not uncommon for masters of the Guild to pound these principles into students. Indeed, there are particular schools across Obseen that won’t accept a student unless they follow these codes from day one.

Entry Six: the current situation of the Assassins’ Guild:

It has been three years since the end of the Royals’ War. Obseen has returned to its systems from before the time of Manscor. Following the war, the Guild established that a Senior Master can only serve a ten-year term, not a life-term, and that all council-seats are held by vote and not by fighting-skill (as was before/during the time of Manscor). The Yearly Tournaments have been re-established, to the gratification of assassin clans planet-wide. Wounds from the war are slowly fading. The Assassins’ Guild has begun to settle back into life as usual.

Forward

Year: 2027 S.D.

As a master who has now been through two complete wars and was born during a third, I can honestly say I am relieved to finally see the Guild move beyond petty squabbles and heal from the wounds of the Royals’ War—brought upon us by a rascal of a Royal no less! However, this does not make me complacent to the undercurrents of distress that still whisper about the capitol. I would be foolish to think there cannot be another war on Obseen; though, I am optimistic in thinking that such a sad occurrence will not come to pass as long as there those alive who remember the atrocities born out of wars.

To that end, however, I am ready to test the waters to see what there is to dredge up in its underbelly. Taysor—or, more to the point, the Guild—is in need of such a test to understand if our system is indeed in place or if it is floundering in the hopes of the weary. I may be digging our own grave to want to poke such a sleeping monster, but I am never one to sit back and just let things ride out. (What kind of Legion master would I be if I was so complacent?)

There is one such tactic I feel will be the most effective in doing just that. Tactic is, perhaps, not the best word choice on my part—person would be more accurate; an assassin with more power to her name and status than she herself believes in. A young Zanishiria Novastone (Coursay’sora if one is to follow the rumors to the source), who has been banished from the Assassins’’ Guild for a three-years’-count in an Oath of Solitude. I think it is time to bring her back to the Taysor…

Heavens preserve us if I am making the biggest blunder of my life!

—Master Judeao Quinn

Sitting master at the training center in Taysor, capitol of Obseen

Chapter One

* * *

[Part One]

(Reference Masterial): The training center of Taysor, capitol of Obseen, is host to the top masters on the planet. Youths that have proven themselves worthy of the Center are allowed to receive their training from these esteemed masters for four years before they are given status as assassins; however, only youths between the ages fifteen to twenty are allowed to train in Taysor. [Rarely, youths of younger ages are allowed but only if they pass rigorous tests and agree to stay on longer than their older counterparts.]

All tests are taken on training squares; which are available in every city across Obseen. To be victorious on such a square gives recognition for an assassin’s skills. Those shown worthy-enough to be accepted as elites are allowed to test into Taysor’s training center. Even still, only five hundred students are allowed into Taysor every four years, making it the hardest martial arts school to get into on Obseen and in the Abyss Solar System.

The young man sidestepped a puddle of mineral water in disgust and continued to pick his way cautiously along the obsidian cavern he had descended into. Bending down, he placed a hand on the stone floor to assist a jump down to the next ledge barely made out in his lantern’s light. The man straightened and began to stride across the spacious cavern—its girth stretching well beyond what his light emitted. Glancing around uncertainly into the oppressive darkness beyond, he wondered about the untold dangers that lurked there.

Suddenly something whooshed past his face from the dark shadows beyond, and the object, a preshair knife, burrowed its sharp point into the stone beside the man’s foot. He gasped and tripped backward in fear. A chuckle of amusement from the weapon’s owner resounded eerily through the cave. A moment later, a shadowy figure unattached itself from the cavern wall and stalked closer to the man. The young woman bent to retrieve her knife then turned to give the man a pointed glare as sharp and cutting as the weapon she has just obtained. Why is it that my time of Solitude is three months over the pardon time?

The man, a UEF scholar by the looks of him—a strange occurrence to be on Obseen, planet of the assassins—backed away from the assassin woman nervously. Th-they sent me here to get you. I have no idea what they wanted you for…or why you are here to begin with. I’m just following their orders. Obviously, he had been given no prior knowledge to whom he had come to collect or the situation that had her living in the underworld.

The assassin woman cursed in Las’wa and turned away to walk into the darkness, not at all amused with the Guild’s joke of sending a UEF scholar to collect her. The man hesitated at her dismissal and began to backtrack his footsteps, intending to leave the way he had come. I would not go back that way. The woman warned, pausing at the end of his light. The creeshts will have already sealed the entrance you used. The UEF scholar glanced around nervously at the never-ending shadows, suddenly very frightened to know the large spiders native to Obseen could possibly be lurking nearby. You are better off following me. I just might help you get out of this place alive. She continued deeper into the cavern, ignoring the reaction her words elicited. I know an exit that the creeshts don’t web up.

The man hurried after the assassin-woman as she disappeared down a narrow tunnel. He hastened only to unexpectedly run right into her, falling backwards onto his ass on the rebound. The annoyed look cast his way did little to comfort him. The assassin pointed ahead of them. Squinting, the scholar tried to make out what the woman was pointing to but there was nothing there. She sighed and picked up a stone to throw ahead of them. A moment later, a young creeshts scuttled out of a small hole and charged the trespassers. The scholar gasped and scuttled backward as the spiderling raced toward them. Undaunted, the assassin-woman let fly her trademark whip. It licked around the spider’s large head, to constrict itself until the body and head were snapped from each other. Glistening blue blood spilled to the floor as the corpse collapsed. The young ones know no caution. The woman remarked as she continued on past the dead spider. Come. She called as the scholar finally found his feet.

Coming! The scholar told her as he picked his way around the still-twitching body and hurried after his charge. This time, the assassin-woman waited for him to catch up—lest he run into her again.

Odd that they picked you to come retrieve me, scholar.

Y-yes, Princess Novastone. I was shocked myself but your uncle insisted. He thought the walk would do me some good.

Oh, really? A skeptical eyebrow-lift was the assassin’s answer. Inwardly, she thought, they must have wanted to get rid of him to send him here unprepared. Was he that bothersome? To the scholar she said in correction, Call me Zanishiria next time.

Yes princess, uh…I mean Zanishiria. The man slipped over the unusual name. He scurried after the assassin as she continued on. It’s so dark down here…. how can you see so well?

The smallest of smirks came fleetingly over Zanishiria’s lips as she jumped easily from a ledge and past a pool of mineral water. The cave walls contain a mineral called asrouc. It lights the caves when exposed to carbon dioxide. She passed the man a piece she had collected. Breath on it and it will glow softer but longer than your lantern.

As Zanishiria expected, the scholar exclaimed, Oh, how fascinating!

Yeah, okay. This way, scholar.

For nearly an hour, Zanishiria led the UEF man through a maze of tunnels. All the while, the man asked questions that were rarely answered by the woman. Finally, a thundering sound from a large waterfall drowned out the man’s chatter. Is that the opening? He asked, coming closer to the assassin to ask the question.

Zanishiria nodded. This is the entrance to Taysor Gulch, west of the Palace. That is where we are going, right? The scholar nodded. Zanishiria waved him forward along the side of the cascading water and took one final glance back into the darkness that was her home. Quietly she whispered, Oshay, Praic. Kye tai sie. [Good-bye, Praic. I will see you again.]

The scholar looked back, hearing her speak. What was that?

Zanishiria shook her head. It was of no importance to you. She walked past the man and into the sunlight. Come, scholar, we have another half-hour to reach Taysor.

* * *

The Taysor Palace was grander than Zanishiria remembered. Its massive size stretched a full two-hundred-acres and four-stories high. The cold, stone surface stretching beyond what the eye could see. Zanishiria made her way to its northern entranceway, to what had originally been the Emperor Manscor’s private wing. The obsidian and marble pillars that towered along the pathway to the doors gleamed a sharp ebony and pearl in the mid-morning sunshine; the years having washed away the bloodstains that had adorned them three years’ past. The stones that led to the massive front entrance were engraved in Royal poems, lining the way in an intricate scrollwork; however, the tarol trees that used to line the stone walk were gone, replaced, with the tiny tarn shrubs that reminded the assassin of the webs the creeshts designed. Another new addition to the palace, she noted, were the assassin symbols that made intricate patterns across the walls.

Zanishiria frowned at the changes wondering what else she was to find inside if the outside looked so different. Apparently, the Assassins’ Guild had taken over much of the Palace. Did that mean then that were few Royals left on Obseen? She found herself hesitating on the stone steps, uncertain if she really wanted to take those last few steps forward into such an unknown. The scholar glanced her way questioningly and reached out to open the enormous right door, inviting her through. Finally, Zanishiria continued up the last flight of stairs and moved passed the polite scholar.

Nothing had changed inside since Zanishiria’s last visit, much to her relief. All of the walls and floors were still laid in marble and crystal. The ancient, wooden furniture that lined the walls were all still in the places she remembered. Zanishiria breathed in deeply to calm herself and motioned for the scholar to lead her onward. She fell in behind him three paces back. The UEF man continued down the main hall until he reached a large, oak door. There, he stopped and turned to the assassin-woman. This is where I was asked to bring you. You are to go in alone. He pushed open the door then without waiting for her nod and Zanishiria forced her feet to walk through, albeit she came cautiously.

An older man, with his dark hair laced in grey and a weathered, yet not overly wrinkled face, glanced up from his seat at a large table. A bright smile lit his features at the sight of Zanishiria. Mora’nen, what a great surprise! Come! Come in, let me see you! [Mora’nen is familiar term for daughter, which King Lapsair considers Zanishiria despite them not being blood.]

Zanishiria hesitated, uncertain she was in the right place (if the Royal king had not been the one to call for her), but the aging king was very infectious with his fondness toward her and she found herself accepting his warm hug without much trepidation. Shayso, King Lapsair. She returned and let the man hug her for a long minute. Zanishiria was just about to comment on how good it felt to see the Royal when a movement to her right caught her attention. She stiffened and pulled from the king’s embrace, her hand automatically going to the handle of the whip around her waist as she spun to face the other occupant.

Don’t, my dear. King Lapsair urged of her gently as he set his hand over hers. He is not a threat…and this is his office now.

Zanishiria stilled her hand and eyed the robed figure skeptically. Still overly-wary to have another in the room, she stepped so that King Lapsair was between them. So, does that mean it was not you who called me to the Palace, King Lapsair?

Her adoptive father looked confused at the question, confirming Zanishiria’s suspicions; however, before the king could answer her, the robed figure dropped the hood of his cloak to reveal himself. It was neither of us. Zanishiria startled as she met Tarin Saerric’s sharp, blue eyes, hardened by the trials of the past three years.

Her friend had grown to manhood. He towered above her in a six-foot-one frame that was lean but iron-muscled. His skin was a perfect, bronzed tan that contrasted nicely with his golden-blond hair; she had remembered it darker. To finish the effects of his handsomeness was the fact that his face had thinned to become perfectly chiseled in features seen better on a model of New Earth.

Tarin, too, was studying Zanishiria. His eyes wandered over her in a similar assessment, albeit he frowned in deep contemplation. He noted the Las’wa had grown only a little in height, standing at about five-foot-five, but she had matured indefinitely. Age had taken away the softness of the assassin-woman’s features. Three years in an Oath of Solitude seemed to have added years to her face more than all the training and battles she had seen during the Royals’ War.

Zanishiria’s body was extremely lean and lithe, belying the strength it housed, but her muscles still bunched in a spring-loaded readiness—a position she currently held because his stare unnerved her. Her raven-colored hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail giving Zanishiria an overall impression of inviolability. But it was her eyes that struck the Neitiege as being the most changed. They were still that sharp, depthless slate that Tarin remembered. As before, they had that uncanny ability to pull on the deep emotions buried beneath his calm exterior; however, that day, those perceptive eyes had an extra hardness to their grey. He guessed that was from wariness and that she was keen to the fact that something was not right with the situation she found herself in.

Tarin, Zanishiria murmured, piecing facts together with a keenness that outclassed most on Obseen. So…this is your place now? The Neitiege man nodded. It explains the changes outside.

Tarin ignored the comment, as he was uncertain if was a compliment or a criticism, and instead asked his own question. You were in an Oath, Zanishiria. Who called you back to Taysor? Only a few masters have that power.

Her features darkened. If I knew I wouldn’t have just asked King Lapsair. The two once-friends stared at each other in a defiant dead-lock, Tarin believing Zanishiria was just being obstinate, refusing to give up her supporter’s name, while the Las’wa just didn’t want to discuss anything without knowing any of the goings-ons at the capitol.

Master Quinn called Zanishiria here to the Palace. The newcomer’s voice turned their eyes to the doorway, where Scarlett Novastone, only daughter of King Lapsair, had just entered. Quinn wants Zanishiria to join his team at the training center.

Tarin frowned. I gave him no such authority.

Does he really need such, Senior Master? King Lapsair went to join his daughter by the door. He paused at her side to put a gentle hand on her shoulder in thanks for knowing what was going on before turning back to the assassin-leader. If Master Quinn wants Zanishiria to finish her training, what is so wrong with that? Would you deny a student who has fulfilled her oath to the Guild a chance at finishing her training at the Center?

A dark look came over Tarin’s features but he seemed to give weight to the Royal’s words, for he finally relented. I will allow her to go meet with Master Quinn, he motioned for Zanishiria to follow him as he turned his back on King Lapsair, But, I will do no more than that—at least for the time being. Tarin looked down at his former friend as he passed by her. Your pardon is still pending my and the Guild’s approval.

The aging king gave the retreating Senior Master’s back a sad frown, not entirely okay with the answer the young man had given; however, his look was easily replaced with a fond smile when Zanishiria stopped in front of the two Novastones to bid them good-bye. Kye rein. [I will be fine.] She told them in reassurance. Tarin made a noise at the door, meaning her to hurry her good-byes, and bobbed his head for them to leave. Zanishiria gave a final bow and followed her one-time friend at a distance as he led the way out of the Palace.

Keeping one eye on Tarin’s tensed back, Zanishiria glanced around on their walk toward the Center, keeping alert to any and all changes to Taysor. She felt overly-exposed in the sudden light and openness of the surface—having been underground for three years and in an Oath of Solitude with only one person as a contact for the entire time. Too, there was something in the Neitiege man that had her hackles raised in warning; Tarin was not one she was sure she could trust anymore.

When Tarin rounded a corner ahead and disappeared, the feeling grew. Zanishiria knew the street he had taken led away from the training center, not toward it. All senses alert, she stepped farther out into the street and fingered the handle on her preshair whip. As she rounded the corner, Zanishiria readied her weapon in case it would be needed to defend herself.

Tarin stood close to the stone building. He whirled around to face Zanishiria as she neared. In his hand was a hand-gun. Its barrel came to touch the assassin-woman’s breastbone as she stepped into it to make a level glare into Tarin’s blue eyes. Zanishiria glanced at the gun mockingly-casual then returned her slate gaze to her one-time friend’s face. "A gun is rather tasteless, don’t you think, Senior Master? She twisted the sound of his title to make is sound conceited. Does this mean you plan to make an enemy of me?"

You should not have come back. Tarin lifted the gun to her forehead. You were better off staying away from Taysor. There is no place for you here.

Think as you wish. Zanishiria shifted the gun away from her skull. That Tarin let her move it showed he lacked the vindication to take the shot. However, it seems that someone finds a need for me at the Center.

Master Quinn has always had a fondness for you. That does not mean that he needs you. You’re being here will only cause problems.

She almost smirked. And you would know, Senior Master Saerric…. senior master. Now how did you pull that off in three short years?

One. The Guild needed someone who could pull all the factions together after the war’s end. When my name came up, there were no objections.

No, of course there wouldn’t be. Tarin had been one of the most exceptional students the Center had ever seen—and he had a reputation for fairness and integrity. Never had she heard of any offenses taken against the Neitiege. Zanishiria made as if to turn away, done with the conversation.

I will kill you next time we meet.

The words made her pause, but not because she felt threatened. Zanishiria turned back. And I believe you will not, Tarin, she replied boldly. One thing you never were was a killer, nor would you take someone down without cause. Do you have a cause for taking my life?

Shev’ek! [Shut up] Tarin snarled, but as he spoke his hand dropped to his side. If he was to lift it to use the gun again, Zanishiria would have the quicker reflexes to take him with her whip or a blade before he could level it properly again. That was not lost on her—or him it would seem. Tarin grumbled to himself as he turned his shoulder to Zanishiria to lay a fist into the stone wall. The look on his face was a mix of pain, confusion, and fury.

I guess we will see if you do next time, Senior Master, Zanishiria said quietly. Slowly, as if backing from a predator one had come across, she made some distance from the Neitiege assassin. You have no need to take me farther to Master Quinn. I will find myself to the Center without your assistance. She bowed despite the fact that Tarin seemed not to hear her anymore, and slipped away from the shadows of the building and continued on her way across the city to the training center.

* * *

The training center was one of the largest buildings on Obseen. It covered a full one-hundred-and-fifty-square-acres of land and towered five stories above the ground. It was nestled away from the city proper, on the south-western edge, and overlooked the large lake and tarol forests of Shaytyar. The secluded Center allowed the trainees to venture outdoors to train in the forests and climb the obsidian cliffs of the Vallés to the west.

Zanishiria strode right up to the enormous main door on the northeastern side of the Center and knocked. Her fist rapped between the lines of assassin symbols carved into the obsidian stone of the buildings; some were wider and taller than herself. Zanishiria tensed as someone creaked the door ajar to see who had announced themselves.

Zanishiria Novastone, I presume? The old master, his greying hair coming out of his long ponytail in unstately locks. He motioned her inside and closed the door abruptly behind her.

Yes, Master Corsetti. Zanishiria bowed her head slightly in deference. Master Quinn asked me here.

Yes, yes. I know all about that. We have been expecting you for some time now. Zanishiria rose her eyebrows at that detail, but, as usual, the older master dismissed her without preamble, as if she was not worth his time. I am sure you are capable of finding your way around…. it’s not your first visit here, after all. Suddenly, Master Corsetti whirled back around to thrust a knarled finger in Zanishiria’s face. She backed away at the affront with a sour expression. Watch yourself, Zanishiria! You are not completely welcome here… His warning seemed more threatening coupled with the intensity in his beady, squinting eyes.

I can see that, she replied sarcastically and waited for the master to remove his finger from her face. That neither of her receptions had been very welcoming made her wonder what else was in store. Master Corsetti, it has been three years since I have been here. Where does Master Quinn reside now?

He instructs the Shairé team. Fifth level…as far from Teera as he could get. Corsetti turned away.

So Teera is still the cause of problems here? The aged Ghans man just grunted a yes without any further explanation and continued on, leaving Zanishiria standing there, watching his retreating back.

After a pause, the Las’wa moved deeper into the training center’s spacious ante room. She passed into a large dining hall that sat six-hundred people. It was decorated in white quartz to off-set the obsidian stone of the pillars and walls. Beyond, was the long, central hallway leading away into the many rooms and levels of the Center. On the ceiling, hung hundreds of obsidian webs and branches—a Xsorian ceiling artwork—hiding the grills of air vents. Zanishiria passed through the large dining room uneasily, imagining who could be up in the concealed vents watching her—not that she thought of herself as being paranoid but Corsetti’s warning had her on edge.

She stepped into the central hall to find it held a plaque with a map and nameplates for the many teams housed in the Center. Zanishiria located the Shairé’s team name written above one for the Nighthawks in level four. So…I have to pass through one of the training halls, she murmured; though, training hall was vastly inaccurate to call one of the many rooms that were designed to look like many of Obseen’s territories (desert, forest, mountainous, canyons, plains). I wonder if Master Roko still trains the Nighthawks? If he did, she would be at an advantage; the master was friends with Masters Quinn and Corsetti; if not, then caution was a must.

Zanishiria took the stairs to the fourth level and paused at the top of them to analyze her surroundings. The large fourth level was comprised of a tarol forest with multiple ravines scattered throughout and a waterfall. The Center had gone so far as to bring in some native creatures of the forests to allow the ecosystem to thrive. However, the fanciful system did not impress Zanishiria overly much; she had seen it all before on her last visit, after all. More, she was concerned of how many students could be practicing in the room.

Not seeing anyone, Zanishiria finally started across the expanse. She kept her eyes on the surrounding trees and tarn bushes. Every so often, she paused to listen and reassess.

Nearing the center, a shuffle sounded in the bushes to her right and the assassin immediately ducked down and waited. The area she had come to was near a cliff with the waterfall that towered fifteen meters above her position. Large tarn bushes surrounded its base, concealing the stone face and anything that lurked underneath. Zanishiria narrowed her eyes and focused her keen hearing toward the bushes there. Suddenly, a suraik dart struck the dirt near her boots and stayed pointed in the ground. The movement had Zanishiria already rolling away and coming to her feet again with a preshair dagger in hand.

The swish of a robe caused Zanishiria to whirl around, just in time to see a trainee disappear into a grove of trees. She followed suit when the Las’wa thought she recognized the side-profile of her attacker. Despite her size, Zanishiria was fast. She managed to catch up to the assassin-man—even though he was known to be a great runner himself—and tackled him to the ground. The dagger was at the young man’s throat as soon as his body was down. Do not move. I know you know what damage a preshair weapon can do. Zanishiria cautioned and pressed the blade a little into his skin. All the man’s struggles ended instantly. Glad to see neither of us wants to see that happen.

Of course not. I’ve seen first-hand the sharpness of a preshair blade. The man turned slightly so he could see Zanishiria out of the corner of his green eyes. My father gave me one a few years ago, a gift from a student he greatly admired. After her banishment, he hid all of the Lakean weapons he owned.

Well, Dăveed Quinn…I’m not banished anymore; thanks to your father. Zanishiria would have said more if not for the approaching footsteps of four other people. She tilted her head to eye the surrounding forest. Another blade appeared in her hand. When the other assassins appeared around them, she flashed the blade threateningly.

Stand back. A small master with spiked, red-hair pushed passed two trainees and came to stand in front of Zanishiria. Release Dăveed Quinn. He was in the middle of a session and mistook you for some of his teammates.

Zanishiria seemed to hesitate before giving a stiff bow with her head. Yes, Master Roko.

As she stepped away from the Baras, a trail of blood dripped from the cut on his neck. Upon seeing it, Zanishiria reached for a salve in one of her pouches at her waist and tossed it to Dăveed. This will stop your bleeding. Dăveed accepted the ointment warily and immediately opened it to apply a coat over the blade mark. Just as she said, the bleeding stopped on contact with the herbal medicine. He finally gave a nod of thanks.

Take him to our lounge. Roko told two other team members as Dăveed walked around behind him to join them. The small-statured master could tell his trainee was still in some shock from being taken so quickly by Zanishiria—and the lad certainly wanted to put a better-trained assassin between himself and the Las’wa. Roko found himself amused that the war-trialed assassin man could be so easily cowed when faced with one, lone woman. To Zanishiria he said, And you. You can’t ever just run around without creating some kind of mischief?! If he had expected any contriteness from the assassin-woman she didn’t show it. Master Roko sighed and motioned to the last assassin-man who had lingered. The tall Xsorian; with long, white hair; came to the master’s wave. Page, accompany this student to the Shairé’s section—and keep her out of more trouble.

Yes, master. Page Torez bowed and motioned for Zanishiria to follow him. He didn’t wait for her to respond, sensing (as all Xsorians are telepathic) that she was trailing him.

Once they were well away from the others, Zanishiria came up by the assassin-man’s side and fell into step with his fluid stride. Casting a glance his way, she studied the Xsorian tá sharid, intrigued to find an acquaintance of hers at the capitol and not in his home territory of Xsenume. Page let her assess him, wanting to find out what she thought of him after three years. Through his telepathy, he could hear her thoughts as she analyzed him head to toe: the tá sharid had grown fully into his manhood; his sharp features had broadened yet still had a delicateness about them that made him seem willowy. Page Torez stood at exactly six feet. His shocking, white hair fell halfway down his back and contrasted strikingly with his deep-green eyes, giving him the most remarkable features of any person Zanishiria had ever met. There was still an air of mystery to the Xsorian that always took a bit of her breathe away.

Page beamed a roguish smile the assassin-woman’s way, pleased to be so-well thought of. He reached out for her arm to link them telepathically, so they did not need to speak aloud. "You are looking good too, Zan. Zanishiria looked away, embarrassed at the compliment but didn’t force Page to remove his hand. It’s been too long…these past three years. It is good to see you again."

"Torez…yes, three years has gone by since last we met. I find it strange that you are here in Taysor…"

Page heard the question in the words, though she hadn’t really asked. As usual, Zanishiria was being polite, letting the tá sharid share whatever he thought would be appropriate. "I am only here to tune-up my abilities with my former master and his group of Nighthawks. I will return home tomorrow."

"I see."

"It would be nice to see you again before I leave."

That time, Zanishiria slipped out from his contact and shielded her thoughts. The action surprised the Xsorian and he wondered what she was keeping from him. We will see what my tomorrow brings, Torez. If I am able, I will meet with you.

Page had to accept her words as the best she would offer. Letting it go, he led them through a doorway into the Nighthawk’s quarters and lounge. Offhandedly, he told her where they were but continued on to the stairs leading to the fifth level. Here is where we part, he said.

Zanishiria bowed her head and started up the stairs—only to pause on the third step. Torez…please take care if I am not able to meet with you. Seeing you has given me some relief that I have not returned for nothing.

The tá sharid bowed deeply. Of course, Zan. As I told you years ago, my family and I will always welcome you. You take care of yourself while you are here. There is much that has changed since the war…and some things that have stayed very much the same. Try not to get into too much mischief, he finished with a fond smile. Zanishiria gave him an expected sarcastic eye-roll and continued up to the Shairé’s section of the training center.

During Manscor’s reign, the fifth level hadn’t been in much use. It had been considered the attic, though it was too spacious a level to be classified as such. Before, it had been used for storage; now, it was cleared of the old want-me-nots and made into a true training level, with fighting square, trainee quarters, and team lounge.

Zanishiria came to the top of the landing and peered around cautiously, still not used to the changes to the fifth floor; however, when she caught sight of the training square beyond the stair’s ante room, she made herself move forward. Master Quinn was partially turned away from her entrance, demonstrating a technique to the team, but her movement out of the corner of his good eye had the aging man turning toward her. You made it, he said warmly and more casually than Zanishiria had expected.

At least the Baras master seemed the least changed of everything in Taysor. He still had the same haircut of shoulder-length, grey-crowned dark hair pulled back into an unruly ponytail and a posture that bespoke of confidence and enjoyment of teaching. His eyes; one of a moss green, the other dulled out from having had Stone Blindness sickness as a young man; were still quick to catch any oddity in a student’s form. With a high-peaked forehead and kindly-weathered face, he still seemed like the fatherly-figure Zanishiria remembered.

Taking in the team behind the Baras master, Zanishiria advanced like a nervous predator, coiled for any needed action. Seeing her like that had Master Quinn coming to meet her half-way across the square. Master. She bowed respectfully.

I was hoping you would come to my request for you to train with me.

Request… wasn’t really what the Novastones said, but I am here nonetheless, Master Quinn. Three months overdue from hearing from the Guild had me anxious to return. That it was only you who asked me to come—.

I know what has you bothered, Zanishiria. We will speak more at length in private. But, first, let me introduce you to my team. He received a skeptical frown but ignored the assassin-woman by turning back to the five students that made up the Shairé’s. I would like to introduce you all to a new recruit Zani—.

San Novano. Zanishiria cut Master Quinn off. She pulled out a name she had heard about in a few old Royal texts of King Lapsair’s. If her memory served, it was a girl-child of a cousin to the Novastones who had been born sickly. What she had liked about the girl’s name was that it had been similar to her own. With that fact, she felt she could grasp some connection to the Royal girl’s story to pull it off.

The Baras master gave her a calculating look, does she know that she is not entirely welcomed to the Center after all? But he played along with her decision. San Novano from Rhône. He added the detail knowing that it was not uncommon for Royals to come from Planet X if they proved they were worthy of fighting on the assassins’ level. As for the details, he knew he and Zanishiria would have to hash them out once they were alone.

A man of twenty-years-of-age with sharp, hardened Trayshan features groaned. A Royal girl? You have got to be kidding me.

Another man near him, with the belt signifying team leader, nudged the other in the ribcage (to behave) but added his own agreement. I don’t mean to sound biased against you either, Ms. Novano, but you weren’t exactly what this team had in mind when Master Quinn told us he was looking for another member.

Sharp, slate eyes travelled over the Shairés. They were cuttingly. Her eyes assessed each young man as if she could read their souls with just one look. She saw two of them shudder. Only one, the white-haired man to the far right, met her gaze directly; Lap Torez, younger brother of the Xsorian she had just left, regarded her with a trace of amusement on his lips but played along with the script she and the master had given.

Master Quinn shuffled to alert Zanishiria that he was still right next to her. His action meant for her to behave—or not to lash out at his team’s lack of respect. Zanishiria looked to him from the corner of her eye. Zan, excuse Sky and Shane’s remarks. They know nothing of you or the reputation you carry. They—.

Will learn in time, she replied coolly. She assessed the two young men in question.

Sky had delicate features and wiry limbs associated with a Nalcian clansman of Edis’daln. His sandy-colored hair and light skin looked as if they would blend into the wilds of the high desert of the Nalar Plains. The other had the unmistakable strong jaw and haughtiness of the Berzén of Traygor, the man’s father and ruler of Traygor. Zanishiria’s eyes flashed at recognizing the Trayshan beynor, surprised to find him in Taysor. He was taller than last she had met him, and his azure eyes did not hint that he knew the woman in front of him—even though he would be one of those to know her true identity. That the Trayshan did not made Zanishiria wonder how lax the assassins had become with her absence. Oh, how the times had changed.

The assassin-woman stepped up to the Shairé’s’ team leader and gazed levelly into his ice-blue eyes. You are the team leader? I propose a duel against you to prove my worth to you. With it I also want to make a deal.

Sky looked caught off guard. A deal?

She nodded. The three-touches pointing system is still in place here, correct? Sky nodded. Then here is my proposal: if you are able to touch me once I have to train here during morning sessions; twice, morning and afternoons; three times and I train with you every day, for any and all classes, and whenever you order me to, even if I am exhausted or hurt.

The team seemed shocked at her idea. Quinn, too, seemed ready to protest the unorthodox method, but it was the beynor that out-spoke them all. There is a catch. You only mentioned if Sky is able to tag you but you neglected to give anything for yours.

Zanishiria replied to his statement. Very perceptive of you, she said smartly. Shane gave her a sour look. Yes, I make penalties only for myself because I believe I am that good.

Arrogant of you.

Zanishiria smiled smugly. Indeed. I am Royal after all. Shane’s expression darkened. She ignored the man and looked back at Sky. I believe I can keep you from tagging me before I get your three. You want to take my bet?

Sky narrowed his eyes as he thought over her proposal but he found nothing, from looking at her, that told him he was making a losing deal. Finally, he nodded. It’s a deal, San Novano; in exception that even if you do indeed win all your touches you still need to fraternize with this team on a daily basis. You are here by our master’s invitation, after all.

Then it’s settled.

Yes. Sky extended her a hand to finalize the deal. Zanishiria eyed it as if it would bite her and opted to bow deeply instead. Sky was startled but quickly made his own half-bow, as per assassin protocol. Meet back at this square in one hour then. I give you that much time to settle in and prepare for the duel.

As you say. Zanishiria straightened from her bow and turned away from the team. As she expected, Master Quinn was right on her heels insisting for them to talk in private.

I will show you your rooms, he said so the team would believe their act. Really, Master Quinn was wanting to get them alone to field the situation they had created.

The team looked on as the two assassins strode from the room. Marcos Shriek and Kraic Shay, the other two on the team, shared a look. Is it just me or does that Royal girl have Master Quinn flustered? Marcos asked.

Yeah, I’ve never seen him act so on edge before.

Lap Torez was quick to give some more explanation, knowing that they would take any details he said as telepathically-gathered truth. The Novano’s are one of the most prestigious Royals of Planet X. That they thought their daughter was good enough to come here must have stirred up a lot of rumors in the Guild. Master Quinn is taking a chance by having her join us.

Shane frowned. Royals should really stay out of our business. Didn’t we learn by having a Royal turn into our dictator? He looked to their team leader but Sky was still gazing at the door where Master Quinn and Zanishiria had disappeared. Shane finally touched the Sinya on the shoulder to get his attention.

What?

It is annoying that the Royals still think they can keep sending their offspring to train at our most prestigious center.

Yeah it is; however… Sky looked like he was mulling over something. I know some about the Novanos, because they are related to the Novastones, but I don’t ever recall hearing of one called San. San Novano…. that name… He shook his head. I think I just need to go review something before I meet her on the square. Her file is in our system, isn’t it? He addressed his question to Lap, who was their in-house computer-skills person and hacker.

The Xsorian nodded. Yes, and there should also be record of her in any of the recent Royals’ Compendiums. Though he was doubtful that San Novano would be in there, he knew he could make a file on her in their electronic system in a matter of minutes. Let me pull up her file for you while you research your books.

Okay, that sounds good. Meet you in twenty.

Lap let go the breath he had been holding tightly since Zanishiria’s appearance. It had been so unexpected that he had worried her background would not check out—indeed, there still needed some quick tweaking to make it all work. That assassin-woman always did things so unpreparedly! Shane Sinhail, beynor (son of the leaders of