Training was set to begin early the next morning, but Lawk felt the need to explore the surrounding area more fully. Searching for potential dangers, before settling down for the night, was a habit he had acquired in the wilds, one which he had no intention of breaking. Considering the assassination attempt that had occurred only a few hours earlier, Lawk believed his precautionary practices more than justified. So, he silently rose from his bed, dressed himself once more, slipped out the bedroom window onto the roof of the wraparound porch, shimmied down a support post, and dropped silently to the ground below.
After having combed the grounds of John and Stace’s estate, finding no intruders, the stealthy youth surveyed the guardsmen patrolling its perimeter. They were quite vigilant with seemingly no gaps in their lines of sight, but there was no stopping the young stealth master from remaining unseen. He effortlessly slipped from shadow to shadow, appearing to glide across the earth, vanishing one moment and appearing the next, wraithlike in his movements. In no time at all, Lawk was entering a neighboring estate, the first of many he would investigate that night.
***
Hours later, as he approached John and Stace’s cabin once more, Lawk sensed someone’s gaze upon him and immediately sank deep into the nearest shadow, concealing himself beneath the boughs of a large tree. Instinctively slipping into his state of calm, the unusually mature boy began silently analyzing his situation. “I don’t feel them staring at me anymore. But, I haven’t seen them move either. Maybe if I…”
Lawk focused. His eyes blazed with their moonlight hue brighter than ever before, but they were shut. All of his attention went to his hearing.
A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves above him. In a nearby field, a hawk swooped down, and its prey squeaked in fear and pain. But, of whoever was watching him, there was nothing.
He focused on his sense of smell, filtering out all of the natural scents around him.
Still nothing.
But, the sense of being watched increased in intensity. The feeling seemed to imply his onlooker was approaching from the left. Then the right.
“Could more than one person be approaching?”
Lawk quickly focused on all of his senses at once, finally risking opening his eyes. He paused for a brief moment and then shot forward into a roll, having sensed the same gaze upon him again but coming from above. And, this time it was different.
Spinning around and dropping into his own ready stance, knife in hand, Lawk spotted...nothing. But, before he could even take a single step more, a vice-like grip wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding his weapon. But, the boy’s eyes were glowing, and he remained calm, reacting instantly, something entirely unexpected even with foreknowledge of the youth’s past.
Swiftly, with agility and coordination a person does not expect to see in one so young, Lawk dropped his knife and caught it in his free hand, moving to stab the weapon into his attacker’s thigh.
“Ohh, I like this kid,” the Left Hand thought, his eyes gleaming behind his mask, as he deftly side stepped and grabbed hold of the remaining free wrist, picking the boy up and turning him so they were eye to eye. For a moment, his captive tensed, and the veteran combatant sensed a double front kick coming. But, then Lawk’s body relaxed, and the warrior was instead met with a deep, piercing silvery stare.
The Left Hand’s mask was enchanted to hide his eyes in shadow should he will it so. But, he could feel the youth’s eyes lock upon his as if there were no barrier to his sight at all. And, for the first time in many years a man, who had long since mastered his emotions and whose reputation alone struck fear into his enemies, felt something of a tinge of fear himself. “Interesting…better safe than sorry,” he thought, as he averted his gaze, deeming it prudent to avoid direct eye contact, until there were less unknowns about the boy’s abilities.
To Lawk’s surprise, after a brief moment of assessment, the masked and cloaked man, clad in mottled blacks and dark grays, silently placed him back on the ground and released him. The man raised a finger to his lips in the universal symbol for quiet, took a step back, beckoned for him to follow, and darted off into the night without uttering a sound or leaving a trace.
Having made some internal calculations of his own, the intrigued and fearless youth followed, as swiftly as his unusually strong and nimble 8-year-old legs could take him, also neither leaving a trail nor making a sound as he bolted after the man.
“This boy is incredible,” thought the Left Hand, as he modified his pace to push the odd child even harder on their impromptu run through the city, leaping across rooftops, ducking through alleyways, and scaling walls. The man made frequent turns and, at times, slipped around a corner and picked up his pace in an attempt to temporarily throw the boy off his trail. But, without fail, his small, spry pursuer turned up again within moments. All the while, they both remained unseen and moved in utter silence. It was as if the shadows welcomed them into their embrace, reluctant to let either of them fully emerge from the darkness.
Many sudden twists and turns later, the Left Hand leapt through a window into a seemingly abandoned building, lifted the end of an old, dust-covered rug, and slipped through a trapdoor. As soon as he thought to himself, “Surely, the boy will not track me here,” the trapdoor opened, and he was met with the sight of two moonlight silver orbs once more.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Lawk paused, seeing the masked man staring up at him, unmoving. But, in the next instant, the cloaked figure turned and strode down the dark tunnel, within which he had been standing. And, the curious boy followed.
The passageway continued on for quite some time, until it came to a staircase, which the pair descended, eventually arriving at the door to a large chamber. Inside, there were several more doors, none of them labeled. But, the Left Hand had traversed these hidden paths countless times before and immediately proceeded through one of them with Lawk in tow. The path curved, almost imperceptibly, and after several minutes of walking, it simply ended at a stone wall. Or so it appeared, until the cloaked figure pressed firmly at a specific, nearly imperceptible indent on the stone surface, and the entire wall rotated. The pair ascended the stairs that lay beyond and emerged from behind yet another wall into an immense room, within which lay what appeared to be a combat training arena, complete with obstacles, practice dummies, targets, weapon racks, and more.
However, this was not all. In one corner of the room lay a single plain bed with a hammock above it. And, in another corner, perhaps most surprisingly considering they were far underground beneath the city, lay a hand pump for water accompanied by a pair of 5 gallon pales, next to a fireplace and a long wooden table with bench seating lengthwise and chairs at the ends. The far wall was replete with shelves filled to bursting with neatly organized books and scrolls. A sofa, a reading chair, and a side table were all positioned close by.
The Left Hand strode across the room to sit at one end of the table, giving Lawk a moment to take in his surroundings, before gesturing for the boy to sit across from him. It was only after they were both seated that he began speaking.
“You are quite remarkable, Lawk. There are very few people in Anchora who can move like you do, leaving no trail, making no sound, and always knowing the most efficient path to remain unseen. There are fewer still who would dare follow one such as me in the dark of night without hesitation. Why, might I ask, did you so readily follow?”
“If you had wanted to harm me, I could not have stopped you, and you appear to be the Left Hand Guard.”
The king’s protector observed the boy for a lingering, contemplative moment before continuing, “A typical Laramean boy your age would not yet be capable of such rapid and complex analysis. Then again, you are not a Laramean by birth, are you? Hmm…Moving on, I see John has already begun teaching you about Laramea. You are correct in that I am the Left Hand. Are you familiar with my role?”
“Only that you protect the king from the shadows.”
“That is an apt, if incomplete, description. Protection of his majesty is my primary purpose. However, I am also a gatherer of intel, an infiltrator, a warrior, and when absolutely necessary, an assassin. Does any of this bother you?”
“No.”
“You are not one to speak unnecessarily, are you, boy?”
“No.”
“Very well. You may be wondering why I brought you here.” Receiving no reply other than focused attention, the Left Hand continued, “I am aware of your situation, and John is an excellent judge of character; but, I must ask, why were you skulking around other people’s homes this evening?”
“It is not safe to sleep in an unfamiliar area without taking stock of one's surroundings first.”
He waited for the boy to elaborate, but no further explanation was forthcoming. He supposed that, to a child who spent the last three years alone in the wilds, this was reason enough for his actions. And, the answer was provided readily, with no signs of deceit. Then again, the boy was incredibly difficult if not impossible to read. He supposed he would simply have to trust John’s judgment on this one…for now.
“I am aware you already have training and schooling planned out for you, but I couldn't help but notice your potential as a future Left Hand. You do not need to commit to the job. We do not force 8-year-old’s into contracts of service in Laramea. As a matter of fact, you may never even be selected for the role. It is not I who has the final say. That right lies with the king. However, before I train you, you must swear to keep your training secret from anyone other than those with whom King Lysander or I permit you to share the information. John and Stace, as your guardians, will be the only exceptions to this rule. This means you do not show any signs of familiarity with me in public, unless I give you permission to do so. Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
“Are you interested?”
Lawk thought for a moment before nodding his assent. “I will need all of the knowledge, strength, and abilities I can gather, if I am to hunt down Mother’s killers and find Father and the others. I will not let an opportunity such as this slip away.”
“Very well. We will begin tomorrow night.” His new master’s words appeared to brook no argument, but Lawk was unaffected by the firm tone.
“I will need to speak with John and Stace, first.”
The Left Hands lips curled up into a smile behind his mask. “This kid exudes confidence and authority like if he were a prince, himself. But, he looked more like a wild animal when he passed through the gates today, wrapped up in furs like he was. Who would’ve thought? And, what eight-year-old speaks like this?”
Not wanting the cheeky shit to become aware of how amused he was - “Can’t have a new apprentice thinking I’m soft” - the Left Hand simply replied, “Already done.”
What Lawk didn’t know is that the master assassin had been observing him most of the night and had taken a break to confer with King Lysander, John, and Stace before approaching him directly.
“You will go about your daytime training, as well as your evening studies with Stace like normal. You will then eat dinner with your family, after which point, I will retrieve you and Lana, who, by order of the king, is to be your training partner in all things. The three of us will return here undetected. No one is to ever learn of this location. However, the young princess’s stealth skills are not developed anywhere near the level of your own yet, so it would behoove you to aid her in this, when I am not around to provide instruction. This will accelerate the progression of training for both of you and help you to better function as a team. Any questions?”
Lawk remained silent.
“Repeat my instructions back to me.”
The unusually sharp boy proceeded to repeat everything he had been told word-for-word, in a surprising display of apparently perfect recall.
What before was a spark of excitement in the Left Hand’s eyes, was now a burning flame, and behind his mask the man broke out into a wide grin.