Introduction To Casstus Raye

A brown robed man, cowl pulled low over crystal blue eyes, stalked his target silently through the thick and tangled undergrowth of the dark wood. In both hands he held a small crossbow of hardwood and iron aimed, for the moment, at the ground.

The man’s target stood in a small clearing some one hundred paces away, alone and still. The robed man slowly raised his crossbow and loosed the six-inch bolt at his intended victim. The moonlit figure dropped like a stone unable to take a step before it’s life-force drained from its body.

The brown robed man ran quickly yet silently towards his dead target. As he approached, he drew a small, curved dagger from a sheath at his waist. He stooped and struck deftly at the neck of the already dead, eight-point Yellow Chested buck – draining the animal of its blood. He stood erect – slightly over six feet – and surveyed the woods to his right, his crystalline eyes reflecting the multi-colored light of the three moons. With some quick movements of his fingers and hands, two figures emerged from the wood line moving quickly towards him.

“Dress and spit it, not but cheese and bread once we reach the Fens.”  The robed man spoke calmly as he slung the crossbow over his back and began walking towards the woods from which his men had came.

“By your command, Lord Casstus. Are you returning to camp?” One of the men asked, hands clasped behind his back.

“I will be in my tent Nee’Gat, do not trouble me till morning.”  The Disciple Casstus Raye said as he made his way across the clearing.

“Of course, my Lord.” Nee’Gat replied and bent to help his partner disembowel the large animal.

Casstus stooped under a limb as he entered the wood still a half mile from the camp where his small contingent of Shadowhunters awaited his return.

As he ducked and weaved through the heavy undergrowth, his thoughts strayed to his Masters orders. Seldom had Drakath’Mal deviated from his ambitions even when commanded by the Gods. The Darklord recalling all of Casstus’ hunters , especially the ones tracking the boy, confused him. But he was completely baffled by his Lord’s decision to suspend the corruption of Bo’Chek. Raldamn, at the very least he should have left Kazandra. She had that sot in Tillamun almost completely turned. A season or so more… His thoughts trailed off at the muffled shout of the sentry, “Lord Casstus approaches. Bowmen stand down. “

Casstus noticed the slight rustling of two trees at opposite ends of the encampment and a smirk flashed briefly across his square, beardless face. He had chosen his best Hunters for this trip to the Black Fens – a dangerous and disease ridden land of marshes and bogs – and they were proving it by their diligent security of the camp perimeter - even though they were only a few miles North-West of the Dread Keep.

Casstus drew the flap of his tent and slipped inside. He pulled the cowl from his head, revealing blond hair greased and pulled into a stubby ponytail. His broad, stone-like face bore the scars of battle and the lines and creases of many stressful years in the service of Drakath’Mal.

The brown robed Disciple stepped to a small wood and brass table and lowered his wiry frame onto the single matching chair. He reached for a pitcher of Hinthanian Ale – a thick, pungent green made from the sap of the Bantun bush, and a personal favorite – and filled his flagon, quickly draining and refilling before setting it aside. With a sigh, he leaned forward in his chair and pulled a piece of flax parchment from a stack on the corner of the table. Casstus grabbed the quill from the inkwell on top of the stack and began to write.

Brea Raye,

You, being the First of my harem and one in which I have confided such matters before, always offering me sound advice in the politicks of Drakarr’Kan…

Casstus continued to compose his missive to the First Mistress of his harem and mother of his only son Talian Raye.

…for I do worry about our Lord’s motives and the soundness of his decisions concerning Bo’Chek and the boy, Akina Banebow. Also, see what they can learn of this girl Ana’Ika he finds so intriguing and have them learn, if their skills are as good as you say, what powers she may possess.

He paused long enough to drain his flagon and dip his quill before returning to his letter.

Stay on Talian and his study of the forms. The boy is highly skilled but I fear he enjoys the hunt too much. It distracts him and he is unable to focus properly on the teachings of the Wicked Flame.

Casstus concluded his letter to the First Mistress of the Raye harem, one of the few people he trusted in the kingdom of Drakarr’Kan , and signed it with a large flourished C.

DRUGS ARE A BAD! M'Kay! Akina Struggles With His Addiction

Pain and agony.  The boy curled on the ground in a filthy, coble-stone alley. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his head and the aches throughout his body. The stench of decaying rubbish and putrid refuse choked - strangled - all the joy from his soul. He tried to open his eyes but the bright afternoon sun forced them shut. "Ral help me I will never take that… " A sharp kick to the leg finished his whispered prayer.

"Boy, get up!" A gruff voice boomed in his head. The boy didn't move. Another kick. "Faldamnit, get up, Akina!" Akina, the boy thought, no one here knows that name? He cracked his eyes open to see who had kicked him, however the needle-sharp light of the sun stabbed relentlessly till he squeezed them shut. He savored the small relief provided by the darkness while begging and beseeching Brother Ral to send this fool away.

"Keep 'em open, Boy. Ral's Light, what have you been doing Akina?" The voice asked. That name again no one here should know it.

He forced his eyes open, despite the pain, and the face that he saw was familiar.  He climbed to his feet slowly and leaned against the stone wall of some merchants building. It was hard to stand. His knees trembled and he nearly fell, but the man steadied him with a surprisingly gentle hand.

"It's that Faldamn poisonous junk isn't it, Akina?" The man, Teka was his name, said as he inspected the boy's eyes; lifting lids and peering closely at dilated pupils. 

"Stop Teka; it is." Akina said quietly. "Why are you here?"

"Did that stuff make you stupid and skinny as a sapling all at once, or did it take some time." Teka replied stepping away from the boy yet still eyeing him up and down.

Akina was bent at the knees cradling his head between his hands, trying to fight back the bile rising in his throat. Once he had recovered, he leaned back against the wall and eyed the large man coldly. "It's time then."

"Far past time, actually. It took the better part of a week to find you. I never thought to check the alleys." Teka said, leaning against the wall across from Akina, muscular arms crossed at his chest.

"Then -" The boy hesitated "- I suppose I have no choice."

The barrel-chested Teka responded with a snort while turning to make his way out of the relatively dark alley into the blaringly bright openness of the main thoroughfare. "Choice is not a word your father would use in this matter, boy - and suppose isn't either. Come on, we have some riding to do."

Akina braced himself for the pain of the sun on his highly sensitive skin and eyes. But, he thought as the horrible sunlight brought beads of sweat to his brow, maybe I can find Felps before we leave Tillamun. This ride will be unbearable if not. Or maybe Tukar has some. He's usually at that tavern by the front gates…

The boy of only 16 cycles continued his line of thought as he trudged doggedly behind the man who had come to retrieve him at his father's command.