The Anari

by Adrianna J Tetnowski

  The flame crawled up the rope, eating it up quickly and leaving wisps of ash in its trail. Ariadna disappeared towards the stables and Atha had carried her out well past the gates before anyone had woken up to notice the rope burning its way up to her balcony.

  15 –

  Preeya

  Now was the time to move. Preeya had always had a great deal of trouble falling asleep and so she spent countless hours staring out the window, counting stars with hopes that they would put her to sleep.

  But instead of finding a star to her liking, the young priestess had found her hooded woman riding from the shadowy streets in the distance. If there was one thing Preeya could do, it was memorising the way people moved and be able to tell who was who by their movements alone. Yes, Preeya knew it was her hooded woman riding away.

  The entire house was silent around Preeya and cold too, despite a small fire burning in the corner of her bedroom. The girl dressed herself in her thickest robes and changed her slippers for the only pair of boots she owned, for the colder seasons. Last Preeya recalled, autumn was nearly upon them and it was washing away any remaining signs of the splendid summer they had had.

  Preeya loved summer the best. She liked to pluck the many oranges, apples and pears which grew in the Convent of Atimae’s small garden out back; she liked the feel of the heat against her skin and the sun against the grass. The smell of summer gave her joy and made her thank the gods for the wonderful season they had given to their supplicants.

  Yet, now was not the time to ponder about the past.

  Preeya pulled her boots on, clenching her teeth a little at the loud sucking sound it made as she pulled each one on. Her gaze darted from one girl whom she shared a room with, to the other.

  Neither of the girls stirred in their beds.

  Scooping her hair into her hands, Preeya tied it up into a ponytail and rose from her bed. She took her small satchel of meagre supplies with her and made her bed before she opened the door to her room with care.

  The corridor was a tunnel of darkness before her.

  Had she left the city already? Preeya worried to herself. In the distance, she heard slippers tapping against the stairs as two sisters came to go about their nightly patrol. It felt like a prison here rather than the home of the sisters of a religious order.

  Preeya closed the door which she stood behind and ran to the second exit within the small room she shared. Opening it with care, the young priestess slipped past it and closed it in time to avoid being seen by the other sisters as they arrived.

  She tried to keep as silent as she could, even holding her breath on occasions. Taking a candle would have been far too risky, so Preeya left herself to feel her way down the dimly lit corridors of the convent. Her fingers dug into the gaps of the walls as she moved.

  The back door to the convent was a noisy old thing and it let out a shriek as the priestess slipped past it; giving her reason to use the only curse word she knew in disbelief. They had no horses here, only donkeys, but Preeya was in no position to complain about which creature she rode. She needed anything with four legs that could go on for longer than she could.

  Throwing together a makeshift saddle of layered blankets, Preeya secured it onto an old donkey; within the small and rather useless stable they had out back, using strong rope. The donkey let an annoyed squeal.

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Preeya whispered to the animal, patting its head as she did. Swinging herself up, the young priestess made herself as comfortable as it was possible, before spurring the donkey forward with high hopes of finding her hooded woman before it was too late.

  She felt her stomach ache. She did not remember what most of the city looked like, save for the crowds which gathered around the virgin priestesses on their way back from the temple. All she knew of the city was it was a noisy, dirty place full of wonders and freedom.

  The donkey’s hooves clip-clopped across the cobblestoned streets, struggling to walk as it stumbled against the poorly designed roads and pavements.

  All the while, Preeya pulled her hood over her head and looked around at her surroundings in awe. From her bedroom window the city looked big enough. Now, riding through it in person, Preeya felt like an ant on the back of an elephant as the sheer size of Atimae swallowed her whole. She took in the lanterns dangling overhead, casting a multitude of colours from yellow to red to pink and creating a beautiful array of lights.

  High buildings, some made of cream stone and some of clay, stood erected in as many places as seemed possible. Down to the corners of the city where the poor and filthy made their ransacked homes of cloth and wooden sticks.

  The smell of bread and pastries from the day before still lingered in the streets and it made Preeya’s mouth water. Yet, the deeper she went into the city, the more it revealed to her its darker side.

  Preeya could almost taste the thick smell of manure in some parts of the city, mixed with piss and rotten food. It made her gag, and she covered her mouth with the top of her tunic, to keep the smell from entering her nose any longer. Up ahead, the hooded woman had stopped in the safety of a shadowy building. Preeya watched her from afar as she pulled a map out of her saddle bag and scanned it with great care.

  “This cannot be the entire city?” the priestess mumbled to herself as she continued in her pursuit of the hooded woman. After all these years of hoping, wishing, to see the city in all of its make-believe glory – Preeya felt disappointed. It looked like a rat hole in some parts, with but a few elegant touches to hide the truth of Atimae. The city was empty, as she would have expected this early in the morning. It was a true disappointment.

  Up ahead, the hooded woman folded the map she held and returned it to her saddlebag. Digging her heels into her horse’s side, she set off once more and Preeya went after her.

  The priestess gave her donkey a few pats on the neck, whispering words of encouragement as the poor old thing carried her out of the city. With luck, Preeya would not lose the woman or get lost whilst she was trying to make her great escape.

  I’m leaving, she thought. I’m leaving and I’m never coming back.

  16 –

  Vinn

  Vinn Maurith woke that morning to emptiness by his side. He wondered if Ariadna had snuck out of his room during the night, back to her own chambers after she had drugged him. All to avoid having to share a bed with him. Vinn was furious. At least her tonic had not lasted as long as she had hoped.

  The sneaky bitch, he thought to himself as he pulled the cover back and stumbled out of bed. His head was still light from the sleeping tonic Ari had given him but, he pulled a simple pair of black breeches and a tunic on with little trouble.

  Already, the corridors of the institute were in an uproar as men replenished themselves with a breakfast of strong ale. They piled their plates high with steaming white fish, drizzled in olive oil and garnished with garlic; along with crusty brown bread and loads of butter, to accompany their meal.

  Vinn could smell the butter as he stormed down to the ground level of the institute, in search of Ariadna. Upon learning she was not breaking her fast somewhere in a lonely corner, away from the other assassins and thieves, Vinn ran up a series of sweeping staircases which led to a corridor of individual bedrooms. The assassin did not rest until he reached Ariadna’s room. His fist met the door a good few times, followed by a few vicious choice words.

  There came no reply.

  “What’s wrong with you now?” Oberon asked as he appeared by Vinn’s side. Smoothing his blonde hair back, Obe placed what he had hoped seemed like a comforting hand on his superior’s shoulder.

  Vinn shoved his hand away and slammed his fist against Ariadna’s door again.

  “Hey!” he yelled out. “Ari! Ariadna, open this fucking door right now before I break it down.” Vinn only heard the same silence again. Taking hold of either side of the door frame, Vinn leant back, swinging his leg along as he did. “Sneaky whore.” he screamed and rammed his knee against the d
oor. Vinn repeated the action twice, and the door came flying open on his third attempt. He almost went flying in as his anger took a hold of him and he rushed into Ariadna’s room to face her on.

  But Ariadna was not there.

  Vinn clenched his fists together by his side. He ignored the feel of his nails digging into his palms, short as they were, he paid no attention to it. Vinn felt the skin on his face turn red as a wave of heat flushed through his cheeks. He was ready to burst into a fit of anger.

  “Where is she?” he roared and turned to face Oberon with his fists raised to meet him.

  Oberon blinked hard at his superior. “I- Vinn, I-I don’t know. I had no idea she even intended to leave, the last time I had seen her was-,”

  Vinn shoved past Oberon without a lick of interest. “Where is she?” was the first thing he said, again, as soon as he entered the main hall of the institute.

  Assassins and thieves alike breaking their fast looked up at Vinn as he continued to charge around the institute in search of the young woman. “Ariadna? You can’t hide from me, Woman. Ariadna?”

  Oberon had never heard Vinn this angry before. It made him wonder what Ari had done to him before she had left and forced himself to ask why she had even left in the first place.

  Kai went to rise from his seat. Oberon stopped him with a single raise of his hand. “Why would she leave in the first place?” Oberon’s voice was low, calm, as he dared to press his superior with more questions.

  Vinn ran his fingers through his short dark locks and looked around at the now silent hall. What he did next took all present by surprise. He let out a loud laugh. Hunching over, Vinn rested his hands onto his knees as he continued.

  “Oh, the sneaky little bitch. She’s left to carry out her own fucking list of names – she’d told me I was holding it off for too long. Oh, Ari, Ari! When I find you,” he turned to look at Oberon and jabbed a finger at his chest. “I will murder her with my own bare hands.”

  Oberon watched his superior leave in silence before he turned and found Kai standing by his side, seeing as it was now safe to. His blonde moustache twitched a little.

  “Foolish girl! Ariadna was unwise to leave the institute like this, Vinn will never forgive her for it. We need to find her before he does – I fear what he will do to Ari if he finds her first.” he said in a hushed tone.

  Vinn did not stay to listen to what Obe had to say. He moved like a storm, giving a heavy pat on the shoulders of a man on occasions.

  “Mhyka, with me. Nhorano,” he beckoned for a few more assassins to follow him without question. The entire time, Vinn muttered threats upon Ariadna’s return – should she return – and he threw the doors to his office open with one powerful push. “She couldn’t have gotten far.” he said to his companions once the door was closed, and what was to be said next was for their ears only. Vinn dropped into his chair behind his desk and braced both elbows onto the wood.

  Mhyka Forn and Nhorano Zoran-Mhagdhar stood before their captain with silent gazes. Their fellow brothers-in-arms, Bass Lorendzor and Ivann Aveek matched their solemn silence.

  “Ari likes to travel light and fast, heading to Forta to complete a contract I had given her and to carry out her own list of names. She will need to stop off somewhere along the way and there are only a few places she finds worthy of staying in.” Vinn continued. His fingers twitched, so he clasped his hands together to steady his anger.

  “Wh-where are you s-ss-suggesting?” Nhorano asked, his damn stutter getting in the way like usual.

  Vinn leaned back in his seat. “It’s no secret Arin Vikander has a large Manor House within Forta. Last I recall, it’s near an extravagant inn by the name of The Swallow. Ariadna will find a place to stay there; I’m sure of it.” he replied.

  The other assassins did not seem surprised the slightest with Vinn’s concern for Ariadna’s whereabouts. It made them question whether his unloving attitude towards her was all an act and that, deep down, Ari had somehow broken that hard exterior around his heart without intending to.

  Mhyka pressed his palms flat against the desk and leaned forward to meet his superior’s gaze. He gave Vinn a hint of a smile.

  “Why are you so adamant to find Ari?” he asked him. The assassin had never been fond of Ariadna. It blew his mind to know Vinn had found something to like about the young woman.

  “I want her back with The Anari where she belongs. Now, it isn’t your place to question what I want and why. I've given you your orders so carry them out. You must be gone by tomorrow morning, no exceptions.”

  Mhyka peered at Vinn past the strands of brown hair covering his eyes and nodded. “As you wish.” he said in that deep, raspy tone of his. Ariadna had always thought he sounded like he was choking on something and could not clear his throat – another reason the assassin disliked her so much.

  Vinn watched his men leave without a glance over their shoulders. He trusted his men with his life but, even then the other assassins and thieves had their off days and could not care for the oaths they had sworn.

  The last man to have crossed Vinn like that, who had questioned Ariadna’s importance within The Anari, Vinn had cut his tongue out so he could not say another ill word against the girl. Now, the man bore the nickname The Silent Assassin. He did as he was told from then on and did not think to anger Vinn again, for fear of losing another vital part of him which he could not get back.

  Vinn’s heart was bent on finding his beloved assassin and soon. When he would locate Ariadna and bring her back, he would have to teach her a vigorous lesson in the importance of loyalty to her superior.

  17 –

  Troian

  Troian believed a sandstorm hitting them each time they ventured through the desert was just part of their luck now. No matter how hard he tried, sand seemed to find its way into the mercenary's eyes every other second. Whilst he kept his mouth and nose protected by a thick black scarf, covering his eyes was not an option.

  The Zhadaewae desert was an ocean of red sand, orange whorls blending in beautifully to create a mosaic of colour. Above it, the sun came beating down in merciless bouts of heat as it licked the ground; all whilst a scorching wind blew sand clouds which whispered in the thick heat of the summer.

  “Damn this heat!” moaned a dark-skinned mercenary by the name of Tari Nivira. He too felt troubled by the sun and already fat beads of sweat covered his nape and ran down his spine, causing him to shudder at his soaked tunic.

  Even the horses on which the Khaishee Mercenaries rode on stood drenched in sweat. Their hooves itched against the burning sand and they seemed to drag their heads a little in exhaustion.

  “We must make camp soon, Kholo?” Shiro, Tari’s twin brother, asked his captain. He had hoped to make it more of a suggestion than a question. Kholo was stubborn like that and he always thought of questions from his men as a challenge.

  Troian had not spoken to Kholo since leaving the cursed palace of Vhorgo. He had not forgiven him for accepting the contract and for not having warned them in advance what it was they were walking into. Now, the thought of having to make camp and talk to the other men, his captain included, it made Troian’s stomach hurt from the anger burning within him.

  “If you make your frown any bigger, you’ll end up having to drag it along the sand with you as you go.” Artus said to Troian by his side. He urged his horse to trudge beside his comrade's own steed. Artus' jokes always made Troian laugh and when they didn’t, he knew he was in trouble.

  “Accepting the contract to find these priestesses? He has to be kidding, Art?” Troian hissed from behind his thick scarf. It blocked his words out, so much so that even Artus could not hear him well.

  “Accepting what? Oh, the contract. Sorry, I’m trying to keep our rushed breakfast inside my stomach whilst travelling on this damn terrain.” he replied.

  After what Troian had witnessed back at the palace, it was not the terrain disturbing his breakfast – Kanra cutting the young girl’s stomac
h open, her heart giving out its final pumps of life as he clutched it in his cold, bloody hands! Troian grimaced at the memory. He had not yet told Artus about what he had seen. A part of him was too afraid to, too ashamed to tell him for fear of being rebuked for not having tried to put a stop to it.

  Artus would never judge Troian like that. He was not a big enough fool to have expected his brother-in-arms to go charging into such a situation unarmed and half asleep.

  “Artus,” Troian began.

  “We’ll make camp here.” Kholo cut in from where he rode ahead.

  Troian felt his comrade give him a heavy pat on the shoulder and Artus urged him to rest. He felt exhausted and his groin was sore from having travelled so long; not a pleasant thought at all but it was true. Troian swung down from his horse and tugged at its reins to get him to follow. The master led his beast to a low-hanging branch, provided by perhaps only one of two trees the Khaishee mercenaries had come across during their hours of riding.

  The desert provided little greenery as it was, yet even the dead branches of a lonely tree were a welcome sight. It meant the group could stop for a rest without fear of their horses wandering off too far and getting lost somewhere amongst the red sand.

  “Careful of the bugs.” Tari called out to the others as he fought for a good branch to tie his horse to.

  Cacati swarmed the bottom of the tree, digging their way into the ground to escape the scorching heat. They would be gone soon at the rate in which their six little legs tossed sand behind them. The bugs looked like common cockroaches in shape but, what made them extraordinary for the eye to behold were their emerald green shells; silver veins running across them to create an awesome effect. Eight icy blue eyes dotted their heads, like small beads rolling back and forth as they worked. The Jumping Cacati; that was their nickname. They could jump to extraordinary lengths and that only made them a terror to run away from.