The Child Slayer

By Len Streeper

Lask is gifted—or cursed—with the ability to see evil in a person's aura. The Order of Eldura recruited him to destroy evil, whether in the guise of a lowly peasant or high-born king.

When an assassin comes to kill the high priestess of Lask's order, the young man finds himself tasked with killing a foreign emperor. To keep his High Priestess safe, Lask undertakes a journey that will lead him across oceans and through enemy lands.

Success requires he place his trust in Skylex, an enemy and recent convert to his religion. In her, Lask has either a guide who can take him straight to the emperor, or a spy. If Skylex betrays him, his exceptional skill with sword and dagger will prove useless. Everything he knows about the emperor tells him his death won't be easy. Worse than killing him, the emperor may keep Lask alive long enough to see the high priestess die and all he holds dear destroyed.

Warning: This book contains graphic sex and violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Len Streeper
• Release date: Feb 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201370251

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lask stood over the sleeping baby. The parents slept feet away. Every second he delayed was a second closer to failure. His dagger writhed like an eel in his slippery hand. He’d stained his blade black with candle soot so it didn’t gleam, didn’t catch an errant moonbeam and reveal his presence. His clothes were a black so deep the dyes cost a small fortune. Everything about him was expensive. His training, his equipment, his weapons. All those things he thought expensive in coin. Now, standing over the sleeping baby, he realized the true expense was his soul. The price was too high; he said so to Master Haylden as they snuck through the small town.

What did you see? his Master asked.

The aura. Lask wished he’d never been born with the sight. Even now, in this peasant’s hovel, he studied the rare-colored aura. So rare, Lask might see five such auras in his life. The black aura radiating from the little body was separate from the darkness of the night. It gleamed black on black but as different as night and day; it sucked in the darkness around it making the dark of night seem not so dark after all.

The infant’s parents and siblings slept on makeshift mattresses. One child suffered through a bad dream by the color and fluctuations of its aura. Its mother slept deep and peaceful, the father the same. Another child, on the cusp of manhood, also dreamed and judging by the colors flaring around his groin, it was a happy one.

What did you feel when you saw it?

Revulsion, disgust. Fear. The closer Lask got to the black aura, the more revulsion grew in him. He wanted to gag, to run from it, but mostly, something deep inside him wanted it destroyed. The sensation was primal, instinctual, like hunger.

Then you know it must die. His master spoke so quietly, Lask strained to hear him. Yet his sympathy rang clear as a bell.

It’s wrong, Lask spoke just as quiet with no doubt his whine and desperation came across loud and clear.

Yes, said his Master. He stopped Lask with a hand on his arm then led them away from the town. At first, Lask expected to be spared the duty he spent years training for. Not so. Once they walked far enough away from the village to speak without being heard, Master Haylden gave him his last lesson.

It is wrong, his Master said with unforgiving bluntness. And it is necessary. Thirty years ago, I went to make my first kill. I crossed the ocean and walked through two kingdoms with my Master. His heart gave out and he died before we reached the child. With his dying breath, he begged me to fulfill my duty. I promised him I would.

Lask knew this story, Master Haylden found the Kovnaucht child and killed it, now Lask must do the same. He opened his mouth to say he got the point and would do his duty. Only, before he uttered a word, Master Haylden’s glare had Lask snapping his mouth shut. Now, a sudden foreboding told Lask Master Haylden’s story had a different ending from what he heard before.

When I stood over the child, I failed. I ran away from my duty, away from that terrible land. When I found my way back to the temple I lied to the high priest, claiming my duty complete, his voice broke on the last sentence.

It took a few minutes for Master Haylden to get his voice and emotions under control.

As the years passed, the boy grew. He gained power through acts of vile depravity and malicious disregard for life. His power grew until he controlled his land. Then he expanded the borders of his little kingdom. Now he controls the whole land beyond the archipelago. Every despicable atrocity he has committed is laid at my feet. Every maimed child, every murdered man, raped woman, tortured innocent, is because of my failure. Every bit of bad news eats at me. There is no forgiveness for my sin. I will rightly suffer for eternity next to the Emperor who I pardoned. It happens over and over through-out history. Since before the Shattering, those with black souls bring only evil. They must be killed before they turn rivers to blood and villages to carnal houses.

Master ... Lask didn't know what to say. His Master’s grief and guilt ran so deep an aura wasn’t needed to sense them.

I’ve never told anyone that story. I’m sorry to make you my confessor, but you must know the price of failure. I beg you, don’t make my mistake. As the gods are my witnesses, I never failed again. The blood of the infant is a small price to pay when weighed against the blood of countless thousands.

Bereft of words, Lask fled back to the village, back to the peasant hovel until he stood with poised dagger over the infant’s heart. As much as he despised his duty, he feared his Master’s cargo of grief even more.

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It took all of Lask’s fear driven will to move his blade. It pierced the infant’s heart with disgusting ease. The baby’s life ended without so much as a sigh.

Lask fled the hovel, running for all he was worth. His stomach rebelled at the knowledge of what he’d done. He needed to get as far away from the village as possible before his retching began. Children were rare and fragile. Justified or not, the villagers would kill him for what he did. He didn’t blame them, part of him wanted to be caught and killed, to erase the deed from his soul. Nevertheless, Master’s story and his sense of duty kept him moving.

In some farmer’s field, he succumbed to his revulsion and fell to all fours. It felt like hours had passed before he stopped, emptying his stomach onto the ground. Then the tears came. As he cried with grief, for the lost life and the death of his own innocence, he thought he saw something move on his left, at the field’s boundary. A shadow in the dark. He wiped his eyes to clear his vision. If a villager came to take revenge Lask welcomed him. Only, he saw no aura. It must be an animal. Or his imagination.

A footstep to his right drew his attention away from the imagined stalker. A familiar voice spoke even as Lask’s hand reached for his weapon. It was a reflex, he had no fight in him.

Did you do the deed, lad? Master Haylden knelt at his side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Lask nodded. His throat ached and chunks of vomit caught in his sinuses threatening to make him heave more.

You must say the words, lad. I must know if you failed, if I must finish the deed.

Lask tried to speak, but retching and dry heaves took away his words. His Master knelt at his side through it all, waiting for the declaration. After hearing of Master Haylden’s failure, Lask understood why. Thankfully, he had but to say the words. He could not face Master Haylden now, could not bear the weight of sorrow and sympathy.

"I have slain the infant Kovnaucht. Lask expected a well done, lad, or perhaps even, I’m proud of you." Those things Master Haylden said when Lask mastered a new skill or succeeded in a challenge. But no, his Master remained silent, thankfully so. This deed in no way felt like a success.

At last, Master Haylden stirred, gaining his feet. Let us be off. We must report the completion of our mission.

I’m not fit to enter a Temple of Eldura.

Lad, the way you’re in now is why the temple exists. If you are not welcome, you will know. The Goddess Eldura was sometimes called The Goddess of Love, but her true gift was the healing of souls.

A scream shattered the night. Master Haylden and Lask looked at each other. They both knew where the scream came from and what prompted it.

We must go, said Master Haylden.

Despite Master Haylden tugging at Lask’s sword belt, the newly initiated Vokzhuli refused to move. If a mob of enraged villagers tore Lask apart, it was no less than he deserved.

We must go now. Master Haylden knelt in front of Lask. Grabbing him by the hair his master pulled his head up so they made eye contact. "Your duty is not done. You must report to Her Grace. She must know the Kovnaucht threat is ended. Otherwise she will send other Vokzhula into needless danger. Then even more death will be on your hands."

You tell her. Although Lask claimed acceptance of the villagers punishment, he obviously wanted to live; he kept his voice to a low whisper to match his master’s.

I did not see the deed done, I cannot swear to it.

It was on the tip of Lask’s tongue to tell his master to go look in the hovel and see for himself. Instead, He felt in his pocket for the gift his sister gave him the day Master Haylden took him away. It was his one indulgence, his one secret that no one knew about. He got to his feet and let Master Haylden lead him away from the village.

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They walked the remainder of the night and through the following day. They passed through another village and encountered other people, but Lask took no notice. The long walk drained him of energy, the lack of sleep made his mind slow until he thought of little more than the next step.

Near evening they found a small inn. It was less of an inn and more of a large farm house with extra rooms. Regardless, tonight they would sleep in clean beds.

Drink. Master Haylden handed a mug to Lask. At first he thought it was ale, perhaps mead. Water is what his master gave him. Although Lask knew the reason for water, he wanted ale. Lask drained the mug. In a few hours the need to urinate would pull him out of sleep so they could be under way. News of a murdered child always spread and they were still too close to the event to be safe. Their best chance of survival was to stay ahead of the news.

Perhaps Lask had a smaller bladder, perhaps Master Haylden drank less water. The result was the same, Lask found himself awake first. Judging by the faint lightening of the western sky, it was an hour before sun-up. Lask considered the chamber pot but chose instead to relieve himself outside. He was exhausted and staying near the bed offered too much temptation to settle in for more sleep. The brisk air would help him wake up.

As he fastened his trousers, something caught his attention. An errant noise, a lapse in pre-dawn birdsong, or maybe movement. Perhaps something else, some inner whisper, turned his gaze to the road.

Two figures glowing with violent auras strode his way. While Lask couldn’t tell gender from this distance, he had no trouble reading their intention. The pair flowed with seething anger punctuated by a grim determination. Their auras so closely matched they almost appeared as one person. There was but one reason for angry travelers to come from that direction so early in the morning. They sought revenge for the infant murdered in its sleep.

If Lask ran for the door, he would be noticed. He moved as swiftly as possible while remaining hidden from the determined travelers. By the time he made it to the back of the house the travelers were banging on the door. The noise surely woke Master Haylden. Both Vokzhula were on high alert right now and any unexpected noise jolted them to full wakefulness. Loud banging certainly qualified.

When Lask made it to the window in the room they shared, he tapped a coded message. Seconds later, the window opened and Master Haylden passed their gear to Lask before climbing out. With equipment in hand they ran for the nearest cover. There wasn’t much in the way of forest in this area so they ran for the field with the tallest growth. The dim light and tall foliage hid them. They took up a mile eating jog for perhaps fifteen minutes.

Wait. The order from Master Haylden came as a surprise. Lask expected to jog for at least three more hours.

Why? I know we have to travel over land instead of by roads, but aren’t we still too close to the village to risk slowing down?

We are, was Master Haylden’s grumbled response. But I have to go.

Go where? The sound of Master Haylden’s stream hitting the ground gave Lask his answer. Oh. Lask used the short break to adjust his equipment. They had a long way to go before they found their way back to civilization. For his part, Lask possessed no eagerness to return to Bastion by the Sea, to Her Grace.

Master Haylden knew these lands better than Lask suspected because it took less than a day to find the road. Returning to Bastion by the Sea the capital city, took but a day more than they originally planned.

The journey took six days. Six very long days in Lask’s case. His waking thoughts filled with brooding guilt and self-loathing, his nights were filled with nightmares. When he crossed the threshold of the temple, a sense of hope touched his awareness, as if the Goddess personally greeted him. The relief at still being welcome made his eyes burn.

Go to your room, lad. Perhaps Eldura will grant you rest. I’ll make our report.

Lask started in the direction of the rooms set aside for Vokzhula, the chosen people who saw auras. Vokzhula were held in great esteem by Eldura’s priests and priestesses.

After taking a few steps Lask paused. Does it get easier?

No, lad. But you’ll get harder. Take comfort that you saved countless lives.

A small comfort, to be sure, but being within the walls of the temple did grant him some rest. He slept better than he had since the dreadful night until a young acolyte woke him.

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My lord? The boy knocked as he swung the door open. The High Priestess wishes to see you.

Hmm? Lask sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sorry boy, did you knock very long?

No, my lord. A lie, Lask didn’t need auras to see it.

My apologies. I needed sleep more than normal.

"Are you truly a Vokzhuli?"

Yes, I am so cur— he almost said cursed, but the boy was awash with awe. Lask didn’t want to crush that emotion, he didn’t want to crush any emotion in one so young. Still, he refused to lie and claim to be blessed. I am granted The Sight. There, that was true without being misleading.

Can you see mine?

Lask wanted to snap at the child, tell him he had nothing to worry about. No black sullied his young soul, he would not die in his sleep. The first thing people asked when they recognized him as Vokzhuli is if they or a loved one had a black aura.

It took less than a glance to see the boy held no fear. If Lask still owned his sanity, he would have realized adults feared Vokzhula. Children saw them differently. This boy was nervous about being too bold with the question; in awe to be so close to a Vokzhuli. Truth be told, the boy’s aura was a balm. The only emotion not exuberant was a tinge of jealousy. The boy probably wanted to be a Vokzhuli.

Perhaps all children did. They had no concept of the price The Sight took, they saw only the power; they romanticized his role. Parents used Vokzhula as a threat to behave. "Be good or the Vokzhula will slay you in your sleep." Kings and peasants alike feared Vokzhula. They could not be lied to and they could not be tricked. Children wanted The Sight so a Vokzhuli would come and take them away from their boring lives and make them great adventurers. If they only knew.

Lask thought the same at his age and when Master Haylden came for him. He expected to know adventure and excitement. The reality provided a different kind of boredom. Instead of learning to farm, he learned to be invisible. Instead of learning to bake, he learned to pick locks. It was not fun nor exciting, it was rigorous training. And the price for The Sight was so very, very high.

Not until later did children learn the truth. Vokzhula were not leaders, defenders. They were hunters of children, to be shunned. What Lask wouldn’t give to be a farmer. What he wouldn’t give to tend his family’s orchards and know nothing of the deeds of Vokzhula.

Yes, boy, I can see your aura. He also saw the question forming on the youngster's lips. Again, you didn’t need to have The Sight to see it. I see a boy with the right amount of curiosity and a touch of mischief.

Oh, said the boy, disappointment clouding his bright colors. Then he brightened a little. My seniors say I ask too many questions.

That’s because you make them think and thinking is hard. Don’t stop asking questions, the world needs more teachers. I best get dressed for—oh. Lask swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced. His sword shifted to his side, but his dagger dug into him deep enough to leave a bruise. His fatigue overcame him and he fell into bed dressed, weapons and all. He would likely be stiff in a few hours. Perhaps I should find something more appropriate.

Her Grace says to come as you are.

Does she know I’m filthy from the road and stink?

Her Grace knows everything. A bit of fear and a lot of frustration wrapped up in that statement. It made Lask smile. How much time passed since he last smiled? Days? It felt like years.

You need more practice. The amusement the boy provided lightened Lask’s mood until he reminded him of his youngest sister. She was just as full of life as this youth. Remembering her reminded him of family, of something he could never have. Master Haylden often talked about how Vokzhula were forbidden families, how loved ones were a weakness. For yet another reason, Lask hated the sight. He would never know the simple joy of fatherhood.

More practice at what, my lord? The boy’s enthusiasm and shining aura refused to let Lask’s melancholy linger.

At being mischievous! One of these days, you’ll get away with something. He patted the boy on the shoulder. Lead me to Her Grace, I’m sure we’ve kept her waiting long enough.

The boy led them through empty, quiet halls. It must be late, a temple as large as this would be crowded and the halls filled with people going about their business during the day.

How long did I sleep?

I don’t know, my lord. But you missed lunch and dinner.

Lask wished the boy didn’t mention meals, he suddenly felt hungry. Had he even eaten in the past few days? He couldn’t remember, though he must have. Master Haylden wouldn’t let him neglect himself for so long.

The boy led him to the worship room. In most temples, the smaller temples, this is where public business, prayer, and the healing of souls took place. This room had much the same arrangement as the smaller temples he stayed at. Down to the pallets in the corners for the people most in need of emotional healing through the pleasure of their bodies. Some other faiths called these temples bordellos, especially Votare, the God of Justice and Loyalty. The two faiths didn’t always see eye to eye, but people didn’t come here for sex. They may receive sex if it fit their need. Followers of Eldura viewed their bodies as temples and all aspects of a person needed attention. Sometimes a simple touch was enough to bring an aura back into alignment.

Indeed, he spied Master Haylden sleeping soundly in the arms of an acolyte. The younger man stirred as the jingle of Lask’s equipment woke him. He peered at them over Master’s shoulder then closed his eyes. Master Haylden didn’t stir. For the first time, Lask realized the murder of the child burdened his Master as well.

Lask winced, he should not have brought his weapons and equipment with him. When he must, he moved with stealth, but in normal travel, one didn’t muffle equipment. It required too much work and too much extra weight to carry. He should have left it in his room, but habit had him carrying it without thought.

Somehow he always expected the worship room in the Grand Temple to be larger, hold more than a single bed in each corner of the room. Master Haylden and the acolyte occupied one, but the others were empty. Lask whispered as much to the boy.

This isn’t the main worship room, it’s Her Grace’s personal worship room.

Lask stumbled. He invaded Her Grace’s personal worship room? He wanted to flee. A Vokzhula had no place being in such a holy room. Lask murdered an infant, he broke the most sacred law of Eldura’s: he ended a life. No god advocated the murder of infants. His fatigue prevented him