Chapter 2 Grendval

Zorrik sidestepped, trying to get out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. The noise had come from a Grendval, and its muscular body caught Zorrik's leg before he could move far enough away. He tripped and fell to the ground, a twinge of pain causing him to grimace. He knew this was the last position he wanted to be in if he hoped to survive. Instinct kicked in, and he rolled as the Grendval tried to pounce again. It barely missed, but it was just enough time for Zorrik to get back to his feet.

The Grendval growled again, a low, menacing rumble, that ended in a warbling screech of frustration. It was larger than Zorrick, with a sleek, catlike body and powerful limbs. Its claws were just as dangerous as its teeth, and so were the poisonous spines at the end of its tail. It circled Zorrik, who kept his blade at the ready, and he turned with it to make sure he always kept it in his sights. The Grendval huffed, and Zorrik sniffed the air, loudly, in return, and then pulled the mask from his face so he could bare his teeth at it.

While Zorrik put on a convincing display, inwardly, he cursed himself. Though the Grendval had dark fur, and a good deal of dust was in the air now, he still should have known it was there. He had good instincts, and sight wasn't his only sense. As the large animal growled and swung a large paw to challenge him, Zorrik wondered what it was doing this far in the city. Grendval sightings were rare, and it was even rarer for them to come in where there were people and narrow routes of escape. The animal either had to be desperately hungry, or it had escaped from someone who was keeping it illegally.

Zorrik knew that none of that mattered right now, though. All that mattered was surviving it. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's get this over with."

As if understanding what Zorrik had said, the Grendval charged forward, swiping its long claws at Zorrik's midsection. The Assassin leaped backwards, dodging the paw, and swiped at it with his knife. They both missed. Zorrik danced to the side, trying to get ahead of the beast, but it turned with him and pounced forward again. He jumped out of the way, grabbing a window shutter on the building next to them. He pulled himself up, trying to find footing on the window seal, but the shutter broke, sending him to the hard ground, and causing a clamor of noise.

Zorrik slipped into the alleyway, watching to see if lights came on in the building, while keeping an eye on his adversary. He heard movement in the house, but there were no lights, and no eyes at the broken window. What he did see was the Grendval sniffing the air, looking for him. After a moment, its head turned his way, and he knew he'd been found. He got to his feet, knife in hand, and ran out of the alley at full speed. The beast was caught off guard, but recovered quickly. It crouched down, let out a loud growl, and swung its tail at Zorrik. Zorrik let it come, and slashed a long cut across it as it did. The Grendval screeched its warbling screech, and this time, lights came on in a couple of the surrounding houses.

In anger, the Grendval leaped for Zorrik, but Zorrik dropped to the ground, letting the animal fly over him. As its exposed belly came into reach, he plunged his knife into it, stabbing deep, and cutting long. The animal let out another screech, and then landed in a heap above Zorrik's head.

Zorrik quickly rolled over and scrambled to his feet. He backed away from the Grendval, waiting to see if it was dead. The animal took a few shuttering breaths and then was still. Zorrik stood for a moment, staring at the animal, until he could catch his breath. He was pulled from his reverie by voices coming from a couple of the houses. As faces began to appear at windows, he wrapped his mask back around his face and disappeared into the alleyway again. He crouched further into the shadows as people came outside to see what the commotion was. He glanced up at the merchant's house and sighed in relief when he didn't see any lights or hear any movement from inside.

He gave it a few minutes, as the neighbors oohed and ahhed over the dead creature most of them had never seen before, and used the distraction to slip over to one of the merchant's side windows. He used his knife to pry open the shutters, and then easily climbed through, not making a sound. Once inside, he crouched down to wait for his eyes to adjust. While the streets had the occasional gas lamp street light, the merchant's house was completely dark. When he could make out the room, he saw that it was a living room, full of furniture from around the continent. Knick knacks, artwork, and other wares most people couldn't afford and an Assassin would have no use for, filled the space. Zorrik knew he would have to move carefully not to disturb anything.

He made his way through the living room, slowly and deliberately, until he reached a hallway with a set of stairs. He climbed them, keeping his footfalls light to avoid creaking. Still, the very top step groaned slightly, and he froze again. After a moment, he crept on. There were a few bedrooms on the top floor, but they were all empty. The last bedroom was at the end of the hall, much like the house's position at the end of the street. Zorrik took a breath and grabbed the decorative copper handle in his hand. With his knife in his other hand, he pushed the door open.

Inside was an opulent bedroom, much larger than the rest, with a four poster bed. The tops of the posts were carved with dragon's heads, and the blankets were spun silk. There was one problem with the bed, though...no one was in it.