Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 13

As he regained his breath, Dolomun remained on his
knees. He now looked worn and haggard, as if the last
few minutes had aged him a decade.

shaking hands. “I can’t help myself anymore.”

“How... how did you know?” he rasped.

He made the death as swift as possible, though certainly not painless. Dolomun had made his choices and
had to pay the consequences.

Khellus kept one sword drawn, the other in its sheath.
This bastard didn’t deserve both blades.
“You keep yourself bald so the hair doesn’t show the
signs,” he said. “The twitching caught my eye, though
you control it well. The citrus smell is another indicator. Asmoran’s got you addicted to dravillish, hasn’t
he? You’re on the take. How long?”
The man shuddered. “Three years now. They took me
in the middle of the night. Tortured me. Filled me to
the brim with the stuff and then let me go, knowing
I’d do anything to get more.” His eyes brimmed with
tears. “Threaten me all you want, but nothing I can say
will help you now. Ever since he learned the king had
targeted him, he’s been avoiding any sort of pattern
with his business, his guards, his staff... it all changes from week to week.” He babbled as Khellus’ grip
tightened on the sword hilt. “But I know one thing he
doesn’t. Let me live and I’ll tell you.”
Khellus scoffed. “Tell me, and I might let you live.”
Dolomun pondered this for a moment before bowing
his head. “Groxley is here. Arrived yesterday. My
sources say he’s been hired to take down Asmoran as
well.”
Khellus frowned. “Why would that brute be brought
in for this sort of work?”
“I don’t know. I truly don’t.”
“But you were going to warn Asmoran.”
“Of course I was.” Dolomun wept at his feet, enormous tears rolling down his crumpled expression.
“You don’t understand. What it can drive a man to do.
It’s this constant hunger, this ever-burning need that
consumes everything. It cuts all ties except to the one
who supplies satisfaction, however brief.” He held up

Khellus grimaced. “Then let me help you.”

#
Gnawing on a strip of spiced meat, Khellus studied a
corner of Asmoran’s estate from down the road. Unlike some of the more sprawling mansions and opulent
dwellings, Asmoran had built himself a miniature
fortress inside the already inviolable city defences.
Khellus’s view of the estate was blocked by high walls
of red stone, except for the two main towers. Guards
patrolled the parapets at all hours, crossbows and
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