Bloodless

by Roberto Vecchi

  Silently and slowly, she stepped closer to him, considering who he was. Yes, she knew his name, Borinth Debane, but that was not what she wondered. Suddenly and unexpectantly, she wanted to know how he laughed, if he laughed. She wanted to see how he moved, how he battled, and how he spoke. Did he walk with the effortless grace of a noble, or was it with the lethal and serpentine efficiency of a predator as it circled its prey? Forcing her training to reign instead of her awkward and untimely preoccupations, she slowly eased toward him and placed her dagger against the skin of his neck. The placement was exact. One quick swipe and his blood vessels would be severed and his bed would be covered in the red and warm liquid of her success and promotion. She inhaled as she did before all such endings and prepared herself to end her third life; her life because, in this moment, his life belonged to her.

  “Would it be too much of a request to know the name of the woman who is going to kill me?” asked a strong and completely calm voice.

  With equal confidence and calm, she replied, “Dianali.”

  “Thank you, Dianali. But may I make one more simple request?” he asked her as his eyes opened to meet hers.

  “One,” she replied evenly.

  “As you slide your blade across my neck, please forgive me for ending the life of such a beautiful woman,” he said as he pressed his dagger against her inner thigh.

  She did not have to look to see where it rested. It was pressing on her leg in just as lethal of a location as was hers. Yes, her strike would end his life more quickly, but she was not foolish enough to think that even as quick as she was, he would not be able to plunge his dagger deep in her leg before his life ran out. If mercy could be applied in this precarious situation, the death she offered him would be more so than his to her. He would bleed out in seconds whereas she would be forced to endure the awful attempts she would undoubtedly undertake to stem the flow of her severed femoral artery. She would try to apply a tourniquet, but judging by this man’s skill that had already been proven worthy enough to deceive a master of deception like herself, she did not want to place her life on the off chance he would miss his target. No, this, her third mark, if carried to its contract’s completion, would be her final mark ending her life as a member of The Guild and mortality itself.

  “When were you aware of me,” she asked, seeking to know where her mistake had been made.

  “When you were born,” he said as he reached his hand behind her head, pulling and kissing her deeply. Her blade went limp in her hand and dropped onto the bed. At first, she resisted slightly, but when his tongue drove itself into her desire to know him more, hers met his and all trifling attempts at resistance were forgotten and forgiven. They made love that night feverishly and completely. They had become the essence of the other in the hot and liquid throws of their love fueled coupling. But as much as her life gained a new breath, it also lost. She could no longer be a member of The Guild any more than she could hide the fact that she had failed in her contract and training. And not just failed but failed without even trying. Though she could argue in the existence of powers and forces existing beyond what is normally defined as mortal, her arguments would possess as much power to change the mind of The Guild Master as she did to resist Borinth. As such, she was his and he was hers. Thus, her journey as an assassin of promise ended allowing her journey as a mercenary to begin.

  A particularly large bump in the road shook the carriage so hard that it jostled her out of her seat and onto the floor in front of her. Had her hands not been bound behind her back, she could have caught herself, but as it was, her face struck the knee of the woman across from her. Another woman landed against her forcing her backwards. The base of her head landed against the floor of the carriage and she felt her head shake hard. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would have been able to see her vision dissolve into the blackness of a dreamless, bludgeoned induced slumber. But as it was, all she saw was the memory of him looking deeply into her eyes as their coupling reached its crescendo dissipate as her longing for his touch grew.

  “How can we not!” asked Borinth forcefully.

  “Borinth please,” said Intellos, trying to calm the growing rage within the mercenary. “We do not know which way they went. How can we even track them when all they did was vanish into thin air?”

  “You are a Wizard; The Wizard! Surely you have some idea of how they did what they were able to do,” said Borinth as he continued to pace back and forth, his predatory anxiety increasing.

  In all honesty, Intellos was clueless. It should not have been possible. Long has it been a supposition that substance could be instantaneously transported from one location to the other; but in the recent years of research and understanding, all transportation of substance required a vessel, much like the only way to travel across water was to board a ship. Or more simply put, the only way to travel over any distance was to employ any number of the appropriate vessels for the terrain whether they be horse, carriage, ship, or even one’s own feet. Regardless of the distance to be traveled, the terrain to be traversed, or the means of that traversal, the distance still needed to be traveled; which meant, time had to be engaged.

  “Understand, the implications of what we just saw are monumental! Never before has anything like this been possible. There have been previous speculations, certainly, but they remained as such and never materialized beyond the pen and paper,” he answered Borinth.

  “So, we are hopeless,” said one of the men.

  What they had just seen was possible proof for a principle Darkinian The Great first introduced in his Engaged Metaphysics. Along with all of the other advances he made in wizarding knowledge, he proposed the existence of simultaneous dimensions coexisting with the mortal world but remained undetected by most of mortality. He suggested that while they were very different from our own, they were, nonetheless, real. He cited that just as our world is under the governing dynamics of the physical world, these dimensions were likewise under the constraints of their own set of governing dynamics. Did they possess gravity? Did they possess time? And if so, was it the same as it was in mortality? And more hauntingly, he suggested there were also beings that existed within these other dimensions that were defined by the governing dynamics of these realms just as we are defined by the dynamics of our own mortal dimension. In an abstract paragraph in his eighth paper, he even suggested that if we were able to access a dimension where time was different, one could, theoretically, appear to travel from one spot to another instantaneously. One could appear to teleport in the mortal realm while in actuality, still travel over the distance in the other dimension.

  This was the only explanation Intellos could offer Borinth and the other men of the Inn whose women were demanded as payment to the Acolytes, but to offer this was to end their hopes balanced on the edge of a blade named incomprehensible. “No, we are not hopeless. There is always the cause for hope,” he answered the man.

  “But you just said you have no idea how to even begin looking for them,” said the man again while Borinth rested his hands on the large hearth in frustration.

  “Yes, I did say that. But let us consider what we know. We know the Acolytes were employed by a man named Xonyos. We also know that they were close enough to us to gain knowledge of the attackers traveling over their lands. This Xonyos must have seen the force and known its direction would eventually put the Inn at risk. Which means that the force must have crossed the boundaries of his lands before they came across us. So, I suggest that we begin looking in the direction the army came from,” he said, looking at the large and vexed mercenary.

  “Then that is where we go, and we do not stop until we find them. All of you are welcome to come, but I cannot guarantee your safety nor the return of your women. I can only guarantee that I will die in the attempt and you will likely face a similar doom,” said the large man resolutely solidified to the endeavor of finding Dianali and the others.

  As he looked around, Intellos saw his propositi
on of a direction had achieved its goal of giving them hope. Combined with the solidarity of Borinth’s proposal, he wagered that not one of them would fail to join their cause, even those without women who were taken. “I believe you have just initiated all of us into your new band of mercenaries,” said Intellos as he placed his hand on Borinth’s shoulder. “Now, let us be away from this place. We have Wizards to track and women to save!”

  They took a few minutes to gather their supplies but did not tarry long. Time was of the essence as their goal was to overtake the Acolytes before they reached Xonyos fortress, if that is where they were headed. Borinth wasted no time in setting up the necessary hierarchy of mercenary life assigning Intellos as his second and Uuntule as next in command. He assigned Aglascio to the scouting task at the suggestion of his father because of his developed tracking skills and knack for quickness and silence. The rest of the men he split into two groups; those with melee experience and those more developed in ranged combat. Borinth did not expect to encounter much in the way of formal resistance; however, the slow and subtle changes over the last year were beginning to accelerate and he wanted to be prepared for whatever combative trials they would face.

  It had been such a long time since Dianali was absent from his side as the best and most trusted second in command and the lover he could have ever hoped to have. He remembered the night they met, seeing her shadowy silhouette dissolved by the faintest of pale moonlight as she drew her dagger. For a split second before he felt the cold of her steel on his neck, he thought he was either seeing an angel or demon; for nothing of this world could ever be as beautiful as she. Hovering a few short inches away from him, something about her seemed to unravel him. Before he was a mercenary, before his wife and children were brutally murdered by the lord he was in service to as his captain, he had lived a common life in a common town with common thoughts of simple joys and the basic sorrows that are inherent with living. But after they were wrongly punished as part of the Thieves Guild’s machinations to rid them of the most proficient captain they had ever seen, he vowed never again to be attached to anything beyond the moment and the goal.

  He lived quite comfortably, as much as the mercenary life lends itself to comfort, for a few short years at the helm of his merry band of soldiers for hire. In that time, they had been able to make a name for themselves. Not regarded as either the largest or best soldiers for hire by any means, they, nevertheless, established the reputation for being the most relentless. Much of this was due to the singular reputation of Borinth. For he alone stood against a hoard of one hundred hardened orc warriors when all other attempts had failed. He emerged from the battle with not less than five broken bones and cuts almost beyond count. But he emerged the victor. When his employer asked, out of sheer shock at the look of the broken man as he limped off the battle field, why he did not flee, he said, “Dying is inevitable. Living is not.”

  So, when he saw the beautiful face of Dianali only inches from his, he made the same choice; he chose to live. She soul echoed his. From that night, they chose to live instead of dying the slow, decaying death they had both been living for longer than either cared to remember. With her as his second, their band of mercenaries came to be known as simply The Mercenaries. They commanded wages greater than any had seen before. They grew to command the respect as the finest independent fighting force the Silver Empire had ever seen and probably would ever see. Indeed, some people even compared them to the legend of the elves Red Guard of the King. But none of that mattered. Without Dianali, and the desperate nature of her company, not title, money, nor fame held any importance to him. Nothing mattered but her.

  Three days into their journey, while Borinth and Intellos were sitting at their fire peacefully contemplating their own separate brooding rages and desperate endeavors, Uuntule approached them with his son, Aglascio. As the warmth of the fire licked at their faces, neither Borinth nor Intellos heard their approach. It was not until Uuntule cleared his throat that both seated men silently attended to their presence.

  “My Lord,” greeted Uuntule.

  “How many times have I told you, I am not a Lord. I have no royal roots in my blood,” said Borinth, quietly drawing a small grin from Intellos.

  “My apologies,” returned Uuntule, “but Aglascio has something to tell you.”

  Turning his hardened eyes to the young boy, Borinth said, “Is that so?”

  The combination of firelight flickering on the hardened warrior’s face against a backdrop of the late evening sunset and the steeled coldness of his voice caused the young boy to take an instinctive step backward. Instead of verbally addressing Borinth’s question, he looked to his father for reassurance.

  “It is ok, Aglascio. You may speak,” said his father.

  As hard as Borinth had been, and even harder since Di and the other women had been taken, he was also known to those who were close to him as understanding. The uneasy lack of surety in Aglascio reminded him of his own, though it be years and years removed. “Come here and sit, my boy,” he said indicating Aglascio should take a position next to him. “I am not so scary as the tales have told,” he added with a warm grin.

  Intellos continued to keep his head down, but his amusement grew larger and his smile deepened. Aglascio looked to his father who nodded. Borinth was patient enough to allow the boy to fully settle in before continuing the conversation.

  “Have you ever had ale before?” asked Borinth as he glanced to Uuntule who offered a slight nod of inclusion.

  “Yes, my Lord,” answered Aglascio, but caught himself quickly, “Sorry. Yes, sir.”

  “Well, ‘sir’ is certainly an improvement, but hopefully you will just call me by my name. But do not worry about that now. Intellos, did we bring any of the ale from the Inn?” he asked.

  “I do not believe we did. I am quite sure it was not included as one of our essentials, however large of an oversight that was,” said Intellos.

  “No matter. We will have time for ale after we have found the women. But for now, what is it you wish to say, young Aglascio?” asked their leader.

  “While I was scouting this evening, just like you wanted, I saw an encampment of several tents surrounding a larger one,” said the young boy.

  “How many do you estimate?” asked Borinth.

  “I counted them, sir. It seems there are eight people dressed in grey robes. They seem to be tending to about twenty people inside the larger tent. I watched them as they offered tonics, bandages, water, food and the like. I did not see any weapons,” said Aglascio.

  “No weapons?” asked Intellos interjecting himself into the conversation.

  “Yes, sir. No weapons.”

  “Why would someone be out in this wilderness, in this time, without guards or weapons of their own?” asked Borinth.

  “To that, I cannot speak. But I watched them for a while and they did not refuse assistance to anyone who came to them,” added Aglascio.

  “Perhaps they have some news regarding our quarry?” asked Intellos.

  “Or perhaps it is a ruse set to trap us,” added Borinth.

  “Either way, it seems we need to see if they know anything,” said Intellos.

  Borinth sat considering for a few moments. When he broke his silence, he looked to Aglascio and asked him, “How confident are you on your information?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” he answered.

  “Would you risk our lives on it?” asked Borinth again.

  “No sir,” he said, “I would risk my mother’s,” he said as both Intellos and Uuntule smiled.

  “Well said,” Intellos said.

  “Indeed,” said Borinth as he put his shoulder on Aglascio shoulder. “You might have the mettle of a great mercenary one day. Intellos, let us four approach them at dawn and see if they know anything of these Acolytes and perhaps Xonyos himself.”

  “There is one more thing,” said Aglascio.

  “Yes,” said Borinth.

  “I observed them du
ring one of their meetings, I guess you could say. One of them was speaking and the others were gathered around him sitting on the ground under one of the shade trees not too far away. I did not hear all that they were talking about, but I did hear him mention a name,” said the boy whose confidence and place at this meeting had been solidified through the easy demeanor of both Borinth and Intellos.

  “Well, do not stop now,” said Borinth as he affectionately padded Aglascio on the back. “What was the name?”

  “The man they spoke of is called, Jesus,” he answered.

  Intellos’s head raised up and he looked directly at Aglascio, “What did you say?”

  “Jesus. The name I heard was Jesus.”

  Hearing that name apparently caused all intentions of the meeting’s continuance to halt. It was not forced nor was it alarmed. It just seemed a naturally good point to dismiss with plans to meet early in the morning to discuss their manner of approach. Uuntule and Aglascio returned to the larger fire where the other men had gathered to find a place that had few enough rocks for a semi comfortable sleep. Intellos and Borinth stayed within the secluded boundaries of their smaller fire preferring to take their rest alone.

  As the fire crackled, the crickets chirped, the rodents scurried, and the other nocturnal instruments added to the moonlit symphony, both men delved into the parts of their minds that were most active when the rest of themselves and the surrounding world was not. Borinth focused his attention to memories of Dianali as well as the joy in being reunited with her. He remembered the feel of the pronounced evil the acolytes had produced and hoped it was just a means to the end for the proper defense of the inn and not an indication of their overall beliefs. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became, and he was not a man given to thoughts of worry. But men are different when it comes to women. Rules are changed and characters are altered when the heart and soul are threatened; and in all things involving Dianali, his were. But as the night wore its way into the preoccupation of his worried mind, his eyes began to feel the effects of the star filled sky and soon became as heavy as his heart.