Wherein Our Peace is Interrupted
Fivesday,
Third Hand of Harvester, EE237
Tándir
of Great Harbor
Vacozan
Province, Wirost
Eyes
snapped open; listening, there it was again, the squeaking of old
floorboards somewhere on the first floor of my home. The middle of
the night judging from the moonlight filtering through the solar's
window. "Saafiyah," I whispered shaking her shoulder,
rolling out of bed and reaching for my long breeches, heart rate
spiking. "Get up."
"What..."
she said sleepily.
"We
have visitors. Get dressed and get in the study. Lock the door.
Wait for me." I tugged my breeches on and reached for the short
sword hanging over the sitting chair next to the bed. There was no
time to don the leather lamellar cuirass that had saved my life more
than a few times over the cycles. Barefoot, bare-chested, I slipped
silently out the bedroom door using every bit of my skill to remain
absolutely quiet as I moved over the old floorboards.
The
house was dark, lit in spots by moonlight shining through windows,
corners deeply shadowed. Padding down the stairs I moved silently,
sticking to the darkest shadows, listening. The faintest of sounds
drifted from the dining hall at the rear of the house, a prime point
of entry with its two glass pane doors. Slowly I made a tour,
finding two uninvited guests, one just beyond the kitchen door off
the dining hall, the other holding just under the arched doorway
between the dining hall and the foyer. There could be no mistakign
their intent; both holding glinting steel in their hands.
I
knew there must be more. This far out in the country this was no
random burglary. So far off the beaten path, off any trade route,
the chances of my guests being bandits looking for an easy score were
slim. Somehow, some way, some one had discovered my link to the
manor, and after the fiasco in Folkestone's Landing they certainly
wouldn't send only two to finish the job. I waited, listening for
the sounds of others. The man under the dining hall archway seemed
nervous, agitated by the delay, eager to get on with the deadly task
at hand. The man in the doorway of the kitchen ducked back out of
sight, deeper into the kitchen.
I
moved swiftly knowing my moment of opportunity was slim, the point of
the short sword slicing upwards through the lower back at the same
time my hand closed over his mouth. I could feel the vibration of
the blade as it sliced through flesh, muscle and bone, severing
arteries and tearing through vital organs. The man's death gurgle
was muffled by my hand and I drug him back into the shadows from
which I had struck, propping him up against the wall gently, quietly.
It
had meant turning my back to the dining hall for only a brief moment,
but it had been enough. The second man had moved from the kitchen
and along the length of the dining table, stopping where his friend
had stood only moments before, likely confused as to his comrade's
disappearance. On alert, he spotted me as I stood back up turned
just in time to avoid a killing blow from the man's dagger, its blade
slicing open my side rather than plunging into my chest. The pain
left me off balance, instinctively stepping away from the source of
the pain that had flared through my side. My swing was wild, easily avoided, and I cursed myself under
my breath. My wild swing threw off the assassin's advance, his
followup attack coming up well short and leaving him wide open. I
thrust once, pulling back a fleshly bloodied blade, and thrust again,
narrowly missing the second time as the man turned the blade away
with his dagger.
Another
wound opened, a shallow furrow stretching across my unprotected chest
as he turned his parry into a lightning counter attack and once again
I was pressed back, further into the foyer, lightheaded from pain. I
thrust again madly, met resistance and a cry of pain then a sceram of
anger. he rushed me, a crazed look in his eyes lit by the moonlight.
Saafiyah
appeared out of the shadows, glinting steel in her own hand. As
focused as he was on me he never saw the flash of steel. His eyes
sprung open wide at the unexpected blow as she drove her dagger
upwards into his exposed side, a near perfect killing strike. He
stumbled forward, his body colliding with me in a tangle of limbs
that almost sent me tumbling to the floor with him. Saafiyah slipped
back into the shadowed sitting room from which she had appeared.
Two
more men entered the dining hall through the kitchen doorway, both
wielding short swords, one circling around the end of the dining
table, the other pausing until both could advance as a team.
Unwilling to be pressed any further back into the wide open foyer
during the onslaught ahead, I pressed forward.
I
advanced under the arched entry to the dining hall, taking up a
defensive stance, a position that would make it almost imposible for
either of the men to flank me without somehow slipping past me. The
odds were certainly grim enough as they were without having to worry
about being flanked by either of the men intent on taking my life.
The first of the two mean to reach me was fast, really fast. Whether
it was adrenaline or shock, this time I did not feel the blade's
bite, only the warmth of my own blood pouring down my left arm. I
heard the twang of a crossbow behind me, feared the worst for a split
second until a bolt passed over my right shoulder and buried itself
deeply into my attacker's own shoulder. I felt a sword tip press
itself into my chest shallowly before retreating once again.
I
stumbled back a step, half dazed, half crazed, screaming, thrusting
my short sword back at the man with the crossbow bolt sunk into his
shoulder. My blade found purchase in his gut and slipped through
easily. I tried to push the dying man to the side, to put him
between me and my remaining assailant, but he easily stepped out of
the way as the body collapsed onto the dining hall floor.
I
could feel the life ebbing out of me. I staggered back against the
wall, bracing myself against it. The remaining assassin stepped over
his friend's dead body and thrust again. I was too slow in my parry,
too weak to do more than push the blade downwards. It sank into my
upper thigh and my leg went out from beneath me, sending me down to
one knee.
I
had heard stories from those who had been on death's door about time
seeming to slow down, the hypersensitivity to every little detail
around you as if the mind and soul were clinking to as much of the
moral world as they could before slipping away. The harsh copper
taste of blood in my mouth was overwhelming, flecks of it misting
into the air with every wheezing breath I took. I could hear drops
of my blood as they fell to floor, smell the pungent, rancid odor of
the dead man's bowels seeping up through the gut would I had
delivered to him.
I
realized in that moment that the only truly good deed I had done in
my life had happened half a cycle ago when I had lifted a stinky,
scruffy guttersnipe off her feet and shaken her, demanding my coin
purse back. I had not turned her over to the city watch to be
branded a thief, nor had I beaten her as I would have any other that
dared to try and steal from me. I had taken her in, unwillingly
perhaps, but sheltered her nonetheless. I had educated her, taught
and trained her and accepted her as my own daughter despite every
headache she had caused me.
"Run
girl! Run now!"
I
turned my neck to look at her one last time, standing in the foyer
struggling to redraw the crossbow. I actually smiled at her with a
sense of accomplishment and pride before launching myself at the man
standing over me, his arm pulling back for one final killing thrust
of his blade. Like in Folkestone's Landing that day so many hands
ago, I vowed to sell my life to protect the one real difference I had
made in the world.
My
blade cut into the man's leg, but I instinctively knew it was not
enough to bring him down. Exquisite pain erupted throughout my back
as the assassin brought the short sword he wielded down upon me. I
fell to the floor, my head turned to stare at Saafiyah as she
discarded the crossbow and drew her dagger.
"No!"
I tried to scream at her. It came out only as a wheeze, barely a
whisper, flecks of blood splattering the floor with the effort.
"Camedyr
Cavalcanti sends his regards, assassin," I heard muttered above
me before my senses faded and darkness enveloped me.
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