Death at Mangix Inn

The midnight rain pelted down on the pavement as it had the entire day and the day before that. The badly lit streets were deserted, only adding to the sense of melancholy that enveloped the streets. The full moon negotiated its way through the cloudy sky even as the rain reached a frenzy. The architecture of the town was nothing unusual, just a row of structures that were built on either side of the interconnected roads. It was an unimaginative copy of nearly every other town in the kingdom.

"When you see one, you’ve seen the rest." mused the stranger to himself as he walked through the empty streets, marvelling at the lack of originality behind these structures. "For all our shortcomings," he chuckled to himself, "atleast we Stygians have some sense of style".

He was in no hurry, he could afford to spend the night in some inn at the end of the village and wait for the rain to stop before making his way to the next. He could even stay here for a few days if it took his fancy. He had money to spend and days to waste. By the time his deeds at the castle were discovered he would have reached the outer cities of the kingdom. He might be in Vendhya, the land of the enemy, but nobody here was aware of his identity. He was safe.

He was broad shouldered and tall, his large frame protected from the rain by his trench coat. His wide brimmed hat covered his black hair and cast a shadow over his eyes, which were even darker. He had a set of twin pistols tucked in at his back. His face had been hardened by years of war, his cynical glint evidence of many battles.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the chilling screams of a woman somewhere behind the curtain of rain. Rape and murder were not rampant in these inner cities as they were in the outer regions, but were still a problem. The woman must have been utterly desperate or incredibly foolish to walk these streets alone at such a time.

He considered going to her rescue, but dismissed the notion immediately. He was not looking for trouble; he would have enough of that when he reached the border. Besides, there was no telling what would happen if he stuck his neck out for the woman. These were hard times and acts of chivalry were not always accepted with gratitude.

He had saved a little boy from a stampede years ago, only to find himself accused of abduction and imprisoned by the villagers. "The Stygian bastard carried the helpless boy away to eat him." said the villagers. "If we had not intervened the poor mother would have lost her only son.” They had him tied in chains and imprisoned in their petty dungeon. That was a long time ago, when the war was at its peak and hatred boiled in most villages. Times had changed, but the episode still lingered in his memory.

He continued walking down the road and came up to a building that had the definite look of a Vendhyan inn. An advantage of identical architecture was that one never missed anything if he has travelled before; there is no confusion about which building serves what purpose. As he came closer, he read the sign 'Mangix Inn' fixed on top of the heavy door. The windows showed no signs of life inside, as did all the windows in the houses and shops in the town, but the stranger knew there were people inside. No inn in any kingdom is ever empty, business was too good these days with refugees from the outer cities and mercenaries in search of jobs.

'Mangix'. The name sounded familiar but the stranger could not put a face to the name. A famous warrior no doubt, a war hero who has proved himself in battle and now capitalizes on his fame to make some money during his old age. Everybody needs food and shelter, even heroes. He knocked twice and waited. The rain would have deprived the owner of some of his regulars and the inn's pub might be quieter than usual. Good, he needed some rest.

The stranger looked back into the empty street, his vision of anything more than ten feet away blurred by the rainfall. He felt something uneasy in the pit of his stomach, a fear that plagued him only when he was followed. But that was not possible; no assassin in this land was stealthy enough to catch him off guard.

The latch from the inside moved and a giant figure revealed himself at the other side of the door.

"Can I help you?" his voice had the authority of a seasoned leader.

The stranger flashed him a smile, hiding his shock at unexpectedly finding himself facing such a massive man. "Yes, I am from Prince Davion's camp in the hills. I need a place to stay for a few nights."

Mangix looked him up and down before grunting and motioning for him to enter. The stranger noticed that the inn was much bigger than it looked from the outside. The pub was almost empty, save for a massive shouldered figure at one of the front tables. His race was hard to determine but it was obvious he was of mixed blood.

Mangix seemed more relaxed with the door shut. "Wanna drink friend?" he turned to the stranger.

"No thank you, I’ve had a tiring day."

"Its some bloody good ale ya know, I made it myself."

"No thank you."

Mangix shrugged. "Your wish ol'boy. I'll show you to your room then. Where are your bags?"

"I have none."

"No bags? Oh well, light traveller eh? Follow me." the bar owner made his way past the bar and climbed up a set of groaning stairs, the stranger right at his heels. “Bloody old steps you know. This was one of the first buildings that were ever built in this town. It goes back to before the war."

The second floor had rooms on either side of the passage and Mangix opened the first one to the right. "This is your room friend. Don’t mind the noises outside, just young hooligans trying to have a nice, drunk time. Be careful of them bugs too."

"How much do you charge for a night?"

"We can talk about that in the morning friend, when I'm sober." he laughed and disappeared downstairs.

The stranger surveyed the room with satisfaction, it would do for a few nights. He looked out the window and was glad to see the rain finally showing signs of relenting. Lightning struck something far away as the full moon reached its zenith. For a split second he thought he saw a woman stagger across the road in the rain, but it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. The town would come back to life in the day, and if the rain stopped he could no doubt look forward to some fun in the pub downstairs.

Far away, a wolf howled. The stranger removed his clothes and retired to bed. He kept his pistols tucked under the pillows, he would never know when he would need them.

Vendhya and Stygia. The two kingdoms had been at war with each other for so many generations that the reason for the war was not known to anybody. To the people of both kingdoms, it was just a part of their lives, a part of their history that had no beginning and would have no end. The man had completed the task given to him and had been in enemy territory for many months. He would miss Vendhya, for even by his standards this had been good fun. The warlords back in Stygia would find his accounts amusing.

The figure in the shadows watched him with a growing sense of anticipation. There had been a single instruction from the castle - kill the pistol-wielding Stygian. It had taken immense patience to wait till the right moment arrived, tracking him for weeks, constantly watching and monitoring his moves.

“Kill him.”

The stranger took less than a heartbeat to realise the impossible had happened – he had been tracked down and was not alone in the room. In a blur of movements he grabbed the pistols under his pillow and whipped them out. He was fast, but a twin set of daggers flew from the shadows and sliced through his trigger fingers, cutting into his shoulders. The pistols plopped on the bed.

“****!”

He fell to the floor and felt the pain flow through his arms, the venom was spreading with alarming speed. “How could this have happened?” he wanted to scream but fear had paralysed his throat. There was no way anybody could have sneaked into the room without him sensing it. Nobody could be that good. He could not believe what was happening. His actions at the castle could not have been discovered this fast.

“You should have gone to the rescue of that screaming woman. She was trying to warn you.”

He reached for a pistol from the bed, his heart racing as he used both hands to lift it. Blood continued to spurt out of his hands, his vision was becoming blurry. Another dagger zipped from the darkness and cut through the fingers holding the weapon.

“Call for help! Call for help!” his body was refusing to respond to his brain’s pleas.

He looked into the shadows where the daggers came from. Using the last of his strength he hurled a chair at it. It went through the shadows and crashed into the wall. There was nothing there. The pain spread to his neck. He felt tears of agony flow - his body’s vain attempt to flush the venom out.

“You were being watched as you walked through the rain. You were being watched as you knocked on the door. You were being watched the entire time.” The stranger finally managed to scream, but it was too late.

He lost all control as his body writhed on the floor. His last thought was that he was alone in the room again.