Introduction

Authors of fantasy always write about great heroic protagonists overcoming the evil antagonist and gaining fame or respect. I find these novels amazing, but what of the stories about the anti-heroes, the evil characters being protagonists and the paladins of justice the antagonists.

"The Sparkle of Deceit" is one such novel, revolving around a young adult assassin in a medieval fantasy realm where he learns the truth of his hometown, the kingdom and the coup d'etat that has fallen on his shoulders.

I wrote this for there is not enough of the anti-hero novels created.

Prologue

The shadows of the alleys hide the trash of civilization within the high walled town of Khen. This poverty-stricken village has been ruled by guild houses, changing ruler ship as attacks are done through secrecy. Assassins, hired to pull of the shameful crimes of murdering guild masters, are given the treatment of Pashas and Lords.

Guild master PenZhalick of the PenZhalick Guild is the underhanded ruler of Khen, as she and her subordinates wreak havoc and terror unto the civilians of the village to keep themselves on top.

PenZhalick trusts most of her assassinations upon the shoulders of a young man, orphaned as a youth. The twenty year-old man, Vietre' by name, is infamous for his brisk and gruesome work. Guild masters fear of PenZhalick's wrath, and Vietre''s cunning blade work; his swipe like an artist's, paining a mural of deceit and cruelty.

This is life on the island country of Yondane, where you live at the top or die trying to attain the title. With the rule of Lord Thaime're, a greedy tyrant, no other being--aside from those who protect him and his treasury--gains.

With his keep atop the large hill, cliffs on all but the southern face--a steep and rocky slope--he is completely safe. Only having a few elite guardians and plenty of archers, his haven is thought impenetrable.

Demanding taxes, scorching humid weather, great meads and women selling them; with all these issues, only those admitted into guild houses know of a good life.

Chapter One: The Shadow's Face

His stride was swift and silent, each step as perfect as the last. The streets were filled with merchants trying futilely to sell their goods to the poverty riddled men and women of Khen. He passed by each sweet talking merchant without even a thought of browsing. This man's goal was no jewels or exotic fruits; this man's goal was of blood.

He was The Shadow.

Vietre', his true name, was the greatest of assassins; he knew the town of Khen by memory. Having walked every inch of the village, Vietre' could not be out run or hidden from.

He knew there were eyes following his every movement. With such an infamous title as The Shadow, he could not ask for anything less.

Vietre' enjoyed the exciting life and constant danger that came with the career of massacres. His current job would be one of the more enjoyable, Vietre' knew.

He enjoyed a challenge.

Turning down a side alley, instantly the ambient noise of the merchant street were drowned by the towering buildings on either side. Vietre' walked confidently into the alleyway as though the dangers of the street did not exist.

Making his way to the end of the alley, the buildings seem to swerve away from a large vertical house in the center of the square. The towering building seemed worse off than the others around; shutters were falling off the poorly boarded windows, the homeless lying about the building seemed to hinder their scanning gaze upon Vietre'.

The assassin kept his own scrutinizing eyes moving, undaunted by the stares. Vietre' hid his chuckle, thinking this is where the rival guild house was placed. It was undoubtedly recognizable, having been worked too hard to seem worthless.

With a simple shrug, Vietre' reached under his cloak, producing a serrated hunting knife whilst casually walking towards the lone guild house, keeping the dagger hidden beneath the cloak.

Two of the homeless, closest to the door, predictably stepped ahead of the door before Vietre'; He smiled at the two and tried to pass between them.

Each brandishing cruel long swords, after pulling them from hidden scabbards, keeping Vietre' from getting close to the door.

"State your business here, or leave at once," the disguised guard to the left of the assassin told him sternly.

"My business is with your guild master, Jens Takson," Vietre' calmly explained. "It seems his gambling problem has gotten him into some trouble with PenZhalick."

At the mention of the guild master, PenZhalick, the two guards--along with three of the nearby lookouts, disguised as homeless street rabble--seemed to become alarmed and impossibly more cautious.

Vietre' took a quick look up the building, noticing more than a few crossbows aimed at him. He returned his gaze back to the guards to see them holding their weapons defensively before them.

"Be gone, assassin. You are greatly outnumbered here," the other, younger, guard managed to say to the imposing assassin.

"Quantity is the sign of cowardice," Vietre' stated, staying calm. He lifted his free arm, grabbing the upper brim of his hood, pulling it away from his face.

Everyone who could see his face gasped and backed away, terrified of the revealed man.

Vietre' had starch white hair, cut neatly for the wavy locks to fall to his shoulders. His left eye was a dark brown that almost seemed black in nature; the assassin also had stubble of an unshaven man to hide his pale complexion. The coming of his beard was a natural brown, unlike his dyed hair.

The object of terror was specifically his extraordinary right eye. Vietre' had it replaced with a golden one, blessed by the god of death, Nerull. It had a symbol of a rotting skull replacing the iris.

"Vietre'!" the closest guard cried out, the young adversary of the assassin.

Before the young man could let out another word, Vietre' leaped forward, driving the hunting knife he was holding deep into the guard's heart.

Spinning around to the right of the now dead man, Vietre' ducked, watching a sword pass into the shoulder of the first victim. Moving quickly, Vietre' unsheathed his other hunting knife, wedging it into the deceased guard's arm, pulling it upward to lock the sword in place.

Using his already red stained blade, he swiped it across the open neck of the attacking guard. The serrated blade cut deeply into the soft flesh of the neck, ripping chunks of muscle from a tender area.

Pulling the blades from his adversaries' bodies, Vietre' quickly rushed for the door, the outside guards too terrified to move in to defend.

The sound of crossbows firing off in short order resounded from above his head. Without even another though, Vietre' swerved to the right and dived at the poorly boarded window. He heard each bolt hit the ground about him, whistling through the air and ending in a small thump.

Vietre' hit the window with full force, driving him through the planks that splintered from the weight put on them.

Rolling into the room, Vietre' steadied himself into a stop, kneeling with both blades defensively before him.

He looked about the area he had landed. Broken glass and wood littered the back of the well-furnished room. The walls were blood red, the carpeted floor plush.

There were no other beings in the room, though he could hear reinforcements building up in the hallway and outside.

"Looks like my time is finally up," Vietre' solemnly noted aloud. He turned one last look around the room before his wandering gaze led him to the fireplace. "Maybe my time is not up just yet. Ruby always did say I was destined for more."

Limping towards the fireplace, his leg having been wounded in the crash through the window. Vietre' crawled in, dropping to the lower area where the logs were stored. He threw his hood about his face, keeping it so he could barely see into the room from his sitting position.

Almost instantly, the guild members rushed into the room, weapons raised for battle. The twenty soldiers stepped in the center of the room before realizing Vietre' was not there.

"Report," Vietre' heard a familiar voice from his youth.

"He is not here," a female soldier stated, obviously a higher in command than those around her--save for the woman in the hallway.

"That is just like Vietre', there is a reason he is called The Shadow," the woman in the hall notified, walking into the room.

Upon seeing the woman, his jaw dropped in shock. "Dialhin..." he managed to mouth silently. Vietre' knew this woman, an assassin like he, but focused too much on honor.

Dialhin's flowing black cloak covered everything below her neck, obviously, so others will take her seriously. Her olive green eyes seemed to trace Vietre''s exact route through the room, but seemed to avert her gaze as soon as she looked at the fireplace.

"He has to be here somewhere, probably hid in the rafters and snuck out after we came in," Dialhin stated to the others. "Susana, direct these soldiers to Jens's bedroom."

"Where will you go?" a soldier dared to ask her.

"My shift is up; I am going to work on my own suspicions."

The soldiers saluted Dialhin before walking off towards their appointed positions.

"Vietre', it seems you are losing your touch," she stated when the soldiers were gone. Dialhin turned to the fireplace and walked over, peering in. "I may have misjudged your agility."

Turning about, Dialhin walked out of the empty room, Vietre' already squeezing through the brick air pathways.

***

Vietre' slowly made his way through the tight airways. He had tried five fireplaces already to no avail of finding the audience hall where Guild Master Jens would be of this time of day--from what Vietre' could discern.

Pulling himself up a chute, Vietre' noticed he was at least on the fifth floor. Coming to the pinnacle of the airway, he cursed his luck. Vietre' had hit the very top, the chimney's hold was too small to squeeze through and on the other side was an equally steep slope as he had just managed to climb up.

With a sigh, Vietre' slowly moved himself up and over the curve at the top and braced himself to keep from falling into the chaotic twists of the airways.

This was definitely not Vietre''s day.

Slipping down the other side, he cursed silently to himself, speeding up as his weight fully shifted. The bricks of the airways blurred together in the dim light as he sped up in his decent.

As more passageways seemed to open up around him, Vietre' found his fall all the more painful.

The drop seemed to take a lifetime to The Shadow; he finally went over the last of the slope into a free fall down a large fire pit. Vietre' slowed himself best he could by pressing his hands upon opposite walls.

Vietre' kicked at the back wall to push himself through the opening and into the room, doing many rolls to lessen the pain from the fall.

Coming out of the roll, both weapons drawn instinctively, Vietre' took his first glances about the room. It was a large, well-furnished chamber, priceless paintings and antiques riddled the walls and pillars in the room. The chamber could easily hold five hundred, though less than one hundred stood within, each brandishing their weapons defensively.

"It seems The Shadow does not follow its prey as quickly as I first believed," a smooth and quiet voice said, behind Vietre'.

Slowly turning, Vietre' stared at a well-built man with a dark complexion, sitting on a jeweled throne. The man wore black pants and a dark leather belt, a whip attached.

"Guild master Jens, it is a pleasure to see you at your best before you are handed to the carts and carried to the ocean."

Jens' dark red eyes seemed to shrink, as the amused smile became a frown of hatred.

"It seems even in death, you speak like the filthy assassin that you always have been," Jens retorted after an uneventful pause.

"I propose an offer, Guild Master," Vietre' stated in a false apologetic voice.

"You are in no position to offer anything to me."

"I only ask for a fair fight, winner gets what they desire," Vietre' declared after the rehearsed laughter died from the members of the guild.

Jens smirked at the proposition, looking about at the gathered guards. "Clear room for a fight. Vietre', you shall get your brawl."

With those simple words, each side of Vietre''s mouth curved into a sly grin. "You shan't regret your decision on this."

"That is until my blade cuts deeply into your heart," he added silently.

***

The guards not on duty had made a ring about the two combatants, leaving ample room for the skirmish.

Vietre' unfastened his cloak, setting it to one side before unsheathing each hunting knife as he crouched into a defensive stance, watching closely Jens's movements.

The Guild master unhooked his kukri and whip, letting the leather uncoil dangerously by his side.

"Shall we stand here, or shall we shed some blood?" Jens calmly asked.

"Very well," Vietre' said, equally calm.

Jens moved first, briskly lashing out with his whip, the three-pronged tip wrapping about Vietre''s left arm. The whip went taut as Jens pulled on it, overpowering Vietre''s changed stance. The Shadow barely managed to catch his footing and bring his knife before him in time to block the stabbing kukri, hooking the blade in one of the serrated dagger's cuts.

Moving only inches from Jens's face, staring at him with both deadly eyes, Vietre' gave a smirk.

"I only wish this would've lasted longer, Jens," Vietre' stated, taking his left hand--now that the whip lay loose--and striking out, grazing Jens's side.

Rolling away from the weapon, Jens unhooked his well-fashioned kukri from Vietre''s knife and moved away to the end of the long whip's reach, making it taunt once again.

The Guild master looked down at his side, the gash on his bare skin clearly visible as blood freely ran down his hip.

Closing his eyes, Jens moved pain from his line of thought, concentrating purely on his warrior instincts.

"That was quick thinking, Vietre'," Jens complimented, keeping his honor as top priority.

Cutting the whip from his arm, and having removed the remaining part, Vietre' returned with, "If you do not react quickly, you will die."

Jens dropped his destroyed whip and kukri, snapping his fingers at a nearby sentry, taking her two katars.

Not even giving another thought, Jens once again reacted, lunging forward, punching with one of the katars at Vietre''s chest.

Pushing the punching dagger down and to the side, The Shadow moved to the opposite side, doing a complete turn--reversing his hold on his other knife--and driving it towards Jens's already wounded side.

Jens brought his free katar down, re-directing the knife away from the wound, kicking out at his foe to take the legs from under him.

Suddenly falling, Vietre' lashed out with his own foot, hoping to succeed the same result. Jens, who was suspecting the strike, had braced himself, dropping to one knee and driving all his strength into one arm, punching down with a single katar.

Vietre', acting purely on instinct, brought one knife up to deflect the strike away from a lethal area--hitting him on the edge of his right shoulder--and bringing his other blade up directly at Jens's dropping chest.

The blade cleanly fit between the ribs, piercing a lung. Vietre' struggled to keep the body from collapsing upon him.

Jens fell back from Vietre', clutching his wound as his lung slowly filled with blood. He stared at his opponent in disbelief, still not able to understand what had happened. Jens looked down at his chest, removing his hand from the bleeding wound.

A sound that resembled 'why' came from his lips along with his lifeblood, as he collapsed on the floor.

Slowly standing to his full height, only to find spears, glaives, swords and bows all pointed at him.

"I won fairly, now let me leave peacefully," Vietre' calmly demanded.

"You just killed out Guild Master, we won't let you walk out alive," one of the closer men said. "You cannot defeat all of us."

"That is true, but I'll make sure to take down as many of you as possible," Vietre' countered with.

"Enough of this," a voice said near the back, "does not lessen the word of Jens simply because he lost. Honor was his top priority, and he would have all your heads for dishonoring him."

Dialhin finished her statement once she pushed her way to the center where Vietre' stood.

"We shall let you free to leave, but in your wounded state the streets will be an even worse enemy."

"I realize the risks, and I shall take my chances," Vietre' said, locking stares with Dialhin.

Giving a slight nod, she looked at the only man not attending the crowd of angry guild members. "I believe Jens's cousin, Aurivin, would be most suited to lead the guild, and keep us out of harm. Vietre', I'll show you the way out."

Vietre' nodded, following Dialhin from the audience hall and out of the Guild house.

***

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