Silence.
She was awake. Then she was aware of everything around her, until slowly, the silence faded, blending into the normal sound of nighttime under the stars. Insects were predominant, their humming voices a tableau against which other sounds rose in chorus or short bursts, like arias, but pure and totally wild. A hunting owl screeched overhead, intent on flushing its prey from the protective undergrowth, while further away, the howling of wolves was a haunting melody by which she would normally have been lulled back to sleep. Instead, she lay perfectly still and tense, hearing the closer sounds of breathing and small movements of bodies at rest. The others were asleep.
Moving as slowly as a hunting cat so as to make no noise, Jundiya carefully rolled onto her side, taking the dagger from under her bedroll as she switched to a kneeling position. She stayed that way for a long time, patiently listening and sensing the air around her for any signs of danger while her mind told her over and over that this was for the best. It was the only way. If she killed him, the thoughts would stop and the Academy would surely pardon her and she would go back - live the life she was doomed to serve until that service got her killed.
Crouching now, the ranger-turned-assassin moved as silently as a shadow, the dagger clutched in one cold fist while the other hand felt her way in the near-dark towards the prone form of the other. Further away laid the friend, also asleep and snoring with his broad back to her. This would be her last chance to catch Picaro vulnerable and unguarded. He had trusted her.
The faint light of the new moon illuminated the lines of his sleeping form: flat on his back with one hand resting lightly on his bare chest which rose and fell in the deep, steady ryhthm of sleep. The other hand was under his head and his face was turned slightly away, accentuating the clean, masculine lines of his features. His scent; the thing that had first attracted her to him, came to her now as she drew closer. Like before, it made her think of the red, warm sands of the Wastes and the rich smell of leather as well as something else, something male and undefinable. She crept nearer, watching him carefully for signs of waking. His long, muscled legs were outlined by the thin blanket that covered him to the waist, but she knew that even when he slept, he wore a dagger at his side and could be very dangerous.
Crouching above him now, the woman raised her dagger, its blade stained purposefully to avoid reflecting any light. Her pale green eyes were inent upon the steady pulse she could see even now, thrumming steadily below the strong jaw. It will take but a moment...
Suddenly, he sighed and stirred slightly in his sleep and Judiya froze, not breathing as she watched his eyelids flutter briefly, as though dreaming. What is he dreaming about, I wonder? Unwillingly, her eyes left his face to travel over the muscles of his shoulders and chest, noting the scars he carried, so like her own, a testimony to his craft. Her free hand reached out as though to trace the lines that crisscrossed his skin until she caught herself in shock.
Pain lanced her heart and she almost sobbed aloud. Damn you! Damn you! Her mind screamed at her to do it. Do it quickly and leave this complication behind. He was an assassin of the White Mask she belonged to the Academy – there was no possibility for them that did not end in torture and death from one or both factions.
But she did not want to kill him. She could not, no matter the consequences. And so, tears blinding her eyes, the would-be murderer left her dagger by his side and nearly stumbled back to her own bedroll to gather her bag and weapons. As silently as she could, she crept away until she was far enough to break into a run. She conintued to run through the night, without thought or hope and by the time she found a stream to cover her tracks and lose herself in the wilds, the tears had dried on her face.
The fact that she would be found eventually did not trouble her overly much. She had made her choice and now she lived with it. There was a certain liberty in her fatalism, but despite her acceptance of her eventual assassination, she was hardly ready to lay down arms. A memory of her initiation into the Academy came back to her unexpectedly.
....
"Why did you bring me back here? I thought desertion was punished with death?" She was lying on her side, trussed with ropes at ankles and wrists and chained to the wall as she spat into the assassin trainer's face. He merely smiled and wiped it away.
"Ah, but you see, my dear tigress, the venom you direct at me is the very quality that makes you an ideal student here, for no matter how you are thwarted, you will always have this fire in you. I imagine you would kill me right now if you could." He grinned, his teeth gleaming. "That is why you were spared. You are a killer. You belong here."
Despite training and eventually becoming one of the Academy's most successful assassins, Jundiya had never really believed those words. She had never accepted her role as a "killer" and now that she had finally rebelled, she intended to make them work very hard to punish her. And when they finally did get close enough to kill her, she intended to make it as costly for them as possible.
....
Picaro shot upright, sweat running from his brow. The cool night air lapped against his skin. He wiped his brow, and looked over at the form of the warrior and his friend, who slept soundly. As he turned to his left, he saw it.
A dagger rested upon the ground next to him. He did not have to look twice to recognise it as Jundiya’s. The assassin climbed to his feet, one hand resting upon the dagger at his hip as his eyes pierced the gloom of the night, and saw an empty space where the ranger had rested. He knew at once what had transpired. He walked a short distance from the camp, and stared out over the shadowy landscape. He stood there for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, he turned back to the camp, and uttered a single word.
“Damn…”
- K.M. 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment