Vows From Darkness

Coulta waited patiently in the shadows of the small kitchen, blending in easily in his black clothes. The night was edging toward dawn, but he knew his wait would not go on much longer. He'd been watching the house for three days and knew the daily routines of all four of the people who lived there. The first one to awaken would be the slightly older woman with the ugly face. Next would be the large man with the beard. The third would be the man with the limp. And, finally, the fourth member of the house to get out of bed would be the younger, pregnant girl. Everything was planned perfectly, and hopefully it would go perfectly.

Floorboards creaked and Coulta's gray-tinted black eyes shot to the doorway. Silently, he pulled a dagger from his belt, and moments later the ugly woman entered. He was on her instantly, slashing his dagger across her throat before she could know what was happening.

The bearded man arrived in the room as she fell to the floor - much sooner than Coulta had expected him. The man started to yell, but Coulta killed him as he had killed the woman, within moments. The half-scream drew the remaining two members of the household out of bed. Coulta drew his sword and ran it through the other man, then turned to the girl.

"Why are you doing this?" she pleaded, crying, backed against the wall.

Coulta ran his sword through her, making sure that her unborn child was dead as well. He looked down at her as she slumped to the floor. "Because I was told to," he said.

Instantly, his body began to shake and he fell to his knees. He vomited, then rested his forehead on the bloodstained floor and sobbed for several minutes. He had never been able to understand why he felt so terrible after he killed. It was as if a massive wave of remorse washed over him. He felt guilty, ashamed of having taken five lives without a fair fight. But he never felt anything but hatred toward his victims before and during the act of killing.

When he finally collected himself, he wiped off his sword and sheathed it. He took his dagger in his hand again and cut the left eye from each of his four adult victims, then he took part of the umbilical cord from the dead fetus. He put the items into the black leather pouch on his belt, and left to return to his master.

Lord Varin was waiting for him in his chambers, despite the early hour. Coulta entered the study without a knock, and unceremoniously dumped the contents of his pouch on the table in front of his master.

"Coming through as always," Varin said complacently as he examined the items.

Coulta bowed his head at the comment that was as close to a complement as he was ever given. "Yes, my lord."

Varin leaned back in his chair, green eyes expressing the joy he tried to hide as he held up the umbilical cord. "It is a shame," he drawled, not a hint of remorse in his voice, "that one so newly created had to die before birth. But, alas, the parents should have known better. If they had been wiser, well..." He tossed the useless flesh back onto the table and looked approvingly at Coulta. The older man was still wearing his dressing gown, and his cropped gray beard and hair still needed to be tended to. He rose from his chair as if he were a man half his age, and motioned toward the door. "I have things to attend to, but the day is yours. For your great service."

Coulta gave him a curt bow and thanked him as he knew he must before leaving the room. He walked briskly down several halls, then arrived at his own room. He entered, closed the door behind him, and immediately threw all of his weapons down in one corner by the door, making a good deal of noise as his belt holding his sword and daggers hit the ground, along with several other blades that he unsheathed from his boots. He then threw his cloak down nearby, along with the bloodstained leather pouch. With a frustrated groan he flopped down on his mattress, face down, making the bed creak in protest.

"Damn, Coulta, you sure can wake the dead sometimes."

"I wish," he grumbled into his pillow.

A woman somewhat older than him sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him with concern. Coulta knew if he looked up he'd see that same worried look on her face that she always had when he returned from doing a job for their master.

"I'm glad that you have never gotten used to taking lives," she told him.

He finally rolled over and propped himself up to look at her. "I swear, Teeya, I feel more and more sick the more murders I commit. It gets worse every time. Teeya, what am I even killing these people for? You know more about what's going on here. Do you know why Lord Varin is having these people killed?"

She toyed with her hands in her lap. "It's his idea of preserving tradition," she said at last.

Coulta sat up fully. "Meaning what?" he demanded.

"Varin has kept you sheltered, Coulta," she explained. "You are his finest weapon, and he has kept you safe from knowledge all your life. He wanted you to only know what it's like to obey his orders and not think. In this nation of Phelin, in which we live, there has been a tradition for many generations that involves marriage. When the first king, Grand King Caolan, managed to lead the nation of Phelin to independence from the Berk Empire, he took three spouses. Kian, his most trusted military leader, became Second King. Nydia, a very powerful healer, and Dyna, a legendary warrior, both became Queens. Many of Caolan's supporters followed his example and began a tradition of four-way marriage."

"What does that have to do with Master Varin?" Coulta questioned.

"Varin's ancestors did not agree with many of the policies of the Grand King," she answered. "A hatred for the royal family has passed its way down the line through the generations, ending up with him. Here in Arren, there is a policy of no marriage, to completely oppose the ideas of the royal family. It is suggested that citizens mate as most animals do - not for life."

"Why are there still so many people here then?"

Teeya shrugged. "Most of them support Lord Varin's opinions. This isn't a very large city, though. I've heard many places are twice our size."

Coulta shook his head. "So, I'm killing people who only want to follow another tradition and can't leave."

She gave him a sad look. "For the most part."

He shuddered, feeling even more disgusted than he had before. "Will it ever end?"

"I don't know," she replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Would you like me to get a bath ready for you?"

He nodded. "Thank you."

She rose from the bed and left the room through the door that joined his room to hers. Coulta knew she wouldn't be gone long, so he yanked his tunic off, having seen the small blood spatters on it. He pulled off his boots and tossed them over to where his weapons lay, knowing that his blades would need to be thoroughly cleaned by the end of the day. Shirtless and barefoot, he lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Knowing the reasons behind his work only made it worse.