by Kiki Howell
Sword’s Call
NOOMA HAD MUTTERED to herself, but offered nothing further to me. Whatever more there was to be said, hung in the air until I was escorted back to my allotted space. Assassins? I couldn’t believe it. Why? What could my parents have possibly done to demand their lives in price?
Left alone, I pondered it all. For being someplace she called ‘safe,’ she had been quick to preempt me from calling her a dragon. Why? Exactly how safe were we? And, who could be trusted? I wasn’t entirely sure yet that I could trust her. Whether or not I passed the test, was also unanswered. If this was in fact a camp, I had to believe there were others here, though I had seen no one else. Given the events of the last couple of days, I knew one thing was true, I would not be sleeping anytime soon.
Before I was summoned again to speak to anyone, or answer any more questions, I knew several things to be true; one, I would find out who killed my parents. And, why? Two, I would not be sharing with anyone the fact that I was the master of the Una-Mor, or that it was in my possession. And three, as soon as I was able to leave this camp, I would. I would not be hiding again.
I was emboldened by the veracity of these decisions. It occurred to me as I paced that there was a reason Siobhan had believed the dragon bloodline to be dead. I wanted to know why. It also occurred to me that I needed to find out if I truly was the last. If I was hidden, were there others? Who would know? How could I find out? Would it matter?
As I crisscrossed the space, and passed the staff from hand to hand, I could almost feel it vibrating within the core of the wood, as though it were casting its vote to my thoughts. I decided we were in agreement, and added one more conviction to my list; when I found the assassins who killed my parents, I would become theirs.
LONGER THAN IT SEEMED a repast should take, I was finally acknowledged again, and requested to join Nooma in her sitting room. As I followed Sinta, I decided I would not be playing quid pro quo games today. I would get answers, or I would get directions to leave. Anything else, was off the table.
“Did you sleep well?” She asked as I entered.
“I did not sleep.”
“Is that usual?” She asked, openly curious.
“It is not unusual. What can I do for you?” I asked, getting to the heart of our conversation, or the conversation I wanted to have anyways.
“You can stay off the radar. Which means, you have a choice. You can stay here, or we can find alternate arrangements for you to disappear once again. Your brief appearances have already created quite a stir.”
“There’s nothing here.” I challenged back, motioning to the room. “A place to sleep, hidden in a mountain, is not a life I want to live.”
“There’s actually quite a lot here,” she rebuked, “if we are so inclined as to let you see it. But, yes, we would be staying hidden, for the most part.”
“If that’s true, then why did you not just keep me here to begin with?” I challenged. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Asa, this world is nothing like the one you have lived in. You were hidden to give you a chance. Yes, in the town they miss-took you for me, at least initially. Anyone who saw you up close would know that you were not me, or would figure it out. But, there are those who would know undoubtedly that you are Astrid’s. You look just like her. The risk to you was too great to keep you here.” She commented to me, but also not to me at the same time.
“Then what has changed? If the risk was too high then, why is it not now?” I asked before I had a chance to censor myself.
She looked at me then, and I think perhaps actually saw me standing there. “You are older for one thing. You are no longer a child who could easily be victimized, or taken. There are also fewer who knew Astrid still around.” She said, sounding sad. “That the connection to me is so easily noticed, translates as risk to you. The assassins still exist, though many have long forgotten the quest to eradicate the...your family. It would be foolish, and unwise, to assume they would not remember with time, or could not be motivated to retake the task if your presence became widely known.”
“Why won’t you say it?” I demanded.
“Because, though we are safe, the walls have eyes and the wind has ears. I will not be the catalyst that brings them to your door, or in this case, mine.”
“Why do so many believe you are dead?”
“Because it is easier.”
“Easier than what?” I challenged back. “How is it easier to hide? How is it easier in any way?”
“You have to trust me.” She answered without answering. “It is easier than explaining what I am, and how I am.”
“Which is?”
“I am.”
“So you’ll tell me nothing.” I shot back angrily. “In that case, show me the way out. I will not hide. I will not trust, or duck behind the cloak of one who will not share and trust in return. That is not the life I choose. If there is so much here, show me. If this is only a cage, set me free. I do not want your help to disappear. I will stand on my own and face any who dare to approach. If you are not my ally, then you can only be my enemy. There is no halfway Nooma, even if half your blood is the same as mine. The choice is yours.” I spat.
“You cannot stand alone. Trust me on this.”
“I am not alone.”
“Is that so?” She asked. “Who stands with you?”
“That, like your other half, is not open for discussion.”
Her face was placid. Whatever she was thinking, she was not letting it show. Like it or not, I had taken my stand before her. If she thought I was bluffing, or that I would budge, she would soon learn that I was the definition of stubborn. In truth, I was my ally. Me, and the suicide blade no one knew I possessed or controlled. I had no intention of that situation changing.
A soft breeze played through the room. I didn’t need to know anything about this world to know, and understand, the impossible physics of wind inside a mountain. I noticed her eyes flash red before they bled out to become full obsidian. Whatever her other half was, was waking up in a hurry, and I was dismissed. “Sinta will take you to your room. I will call for you, or come to you with my decision soon. Go now.” She said quickly.
She was gone before I could turn to make my retreat. Whatever, or whomever, had dared to pass through her quarters and between us, had just made a grave error. I was surprised to find I was a little sad not to be allowed to join the chase. I could feel the shaft of my staff vibrating. I was not the only one disappointed.
Flail
NOOMA DID NOT knock, or do anything else to announce her presence, she simply walked in. The look on her face was drawn, and tired. I wondered if I dared to ask. I didn’t get the chance. “If you wish to see what is here, I will show you myself. Unfortunately, there is a chance that your presence is already known. I cannot, in good conscience, or anything that resembles peace of mind, allow you to leave now.” She announced without preamble.
I gave her points for cutting to the chase. Unfortunately, all she did was give me enough information to loose the tide of more questions. “How is that exactly?”
She was emotionally flat when she replied. “Anwar is no longer with us. How much he knew about what you are, I cannot say. Who he has been in contact with, I cannot guess. His particular skill set has been extremely useful to me and our community. He will be difficult to replace. Shadow-walkers seldom switch sides. Which, in retrospect, probably should’ve been my first clue, but evidently I got lazy. That stops now.”
“Shadow-walker? Like Needah?” I inquired before I could pull it back.
Her head snapped up. “You know Needah?”
“Of him. Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No. Everyone doesn’t know of Needah. How do you?” She retorted, her eyes narrowing.
A fresh burning sensation at the base of my spine began to crawl up. I needed to be careful. “I’ve heard lots of stories. Around the night fires, back when I was with the Brigand’s, someone was always telling a tal
e. Needah’s story was Enid’s favorite I think. Why?”
Her pose loosened a little. “I didn’t expect you to have heard any stories of this world. In fact, I rather fully expected that they would not tell any stories of this world to you. They were specifically told not to. But, given the deathbed confession, and subsequent direction of you here, I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
I shrugged it off. In truth, I only knew a few stories, but I was willing to wager there was a whole lot more that I didn’t know. Until I understood more specifically what had happened with Anwar, and the implications of his treachery, my trust was on a very short lead. Nooma was not exempt. “As it would seem you’re giving me no choice, show me.”
By the time we reached our destination, I knew I would never find my way around. I was going to need a map, and a guide. We had changed levels within the camp several times, though if there was a more direct route to reach the final stop, I certainly did not know. For all I knew, we could just be farther into the mountain itself, on the same level where we started. What I did know though, was that there was no way I could have imagined so many inhabitants. And, for how many there were, that it really didn’t seem overly crowded. I lost track. Where we arrived was essentially a massive community space.
“We will move your quarters into this area after you have had a chance to see what’s here.” She commented over her shoulder as she came to a stop.
“What exactly am I looking at?”
“This is camp. Most everyone here is free to come and go as they please, though very few do. We have designated individuals who bring in what we need for supplies. For many, the less they are seen, the better.”
She was answering the questions, but still managing to be incredibly vague. “What does that mean?”
“It means Asa, that this is not the world you grew up in. Things here are different.” She answered, leveling an unblinking stare.
“Call me Bree.”
Her silent assessment made my palms damp. Whatever thought was running through her mind, she took a long time figuring out how to say something else. She revealed little, but I could tell there was a lot more she wanted to say than what actually came out next. “I’m afraid that Bree Brigand is as dead as her parents. If you had stayed put, you might have been able to keep her. Here, now, it would be better for you to let Bree go. Outside of this place, who knows?”
I did my best not to stiffen at her comments. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
She stepped in front of me, staring hard. “You don’t have time. And, there are enough here who know of you, and certainly of Astrid, that there is no way to possibly keep it secret within camp. Not to mention, that here, there are no secrets. I’m afraid you aren’t going to get a choice.”
I could feel the flush as it climbed my throat...I wanted to lash out, I wanted to rage, I wanted to leave. But, I already knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon because I didn’t know how to get out. That day would come though. “Fine. For now.”
Her snort caught me off guard. “You act just like her too.”
I couldn’t decide if I was honored or offended. First, that I had been kept so confusingly away from this center of the activity, but second, that I so strongly resembled, and behaved like, at least according to Nooma, my mother. How could I? I could not claim I had ever known my birth mother. And, after all, I was my own person, at least I had always thought so. “Speaking of her, I think it’s about time you tell me how, and why, she died.”
“I told you that. The assassins are how she died. The assassins are how both of them died. Why? Because of what they were.” She answered curtly.
“They were killed because they were dr...”
“Don’t. Say. It!”
I pivoted away from her, taking several steps, turning, and retaking them back. “Why not? If everyone knows who I am, they obviously also then know what I am.”
She threw her arm out toward the far wall, sweeping a wide arc across the gathering of people who didn’t seem to notice, or have much interest that we were there. “Because these are the assassins.”
It took every ounce of self-restraint I could muster not to pop the cap from my staff, unsheathe the blade from within its core, and challenge every last one of them to come at me. I was shaking with rage, but dropped my voice to a whisper. “What do you mean, these are the assassins? What am I then, a spring lamb for the slaughter? Why would you bring me here?”
The next sound that came from her lips was something between a cackle of laughter, a sigh of exhaustion, and an odd bark. “Because Asa, in this world, everyone is an assassin. The difference between them, is which side they are on, who they work for, and if the price or prize is worth the risk. Right now, you are not a prize here. The safest place for you to be, is in plain sight, able to identify others. Out there,” her head jerked backward over her shoulder, “you’re the unknown, you’re the rogue, and you’re the potential pawn in a game you don’t know that you’re playing. Now that you’ve tripped into this world, and all but announced your presence, the only option to keep you safe, is to expose your throat while looking them in the eye, which simultaneously exposes theirs.” She reasoned.
“That’s insane.” I hissed.
“That’s the world you were born to. Your parents knew it. What they didn’t know, was when they became the target. I choose to think that if they had known, or had even the slightest indication, you would not have been conceived. But, they are gone, and here you are. I thought I had succeeded in keeping you from this world. I was wrong.”
“So you are saying that my parents were assassins too?”
“Hear me clearly. You come from a long line of assassins. Your world now is filled with them. Trust no one. You will be safe until the time you are not. Do you still think it was so wise to come here?” She challenged with her hand on her hip.
I was dumbfounded. Why in the world would my mother have told me to remember and find this? Surely she must have known. It made no sense. “Did they know?”
“Who?”
“The Brigands?”
“I don’t know.” She answered, her voice dropping off at the end. “They evidently knew more about it than I thought. I told them only what they needed to know to keep you safe. But, that was a long time ago. Things change. I can’t see any possible advantage to them sharing stories about this world with you, but according to you they did. I just don’t know.”
“But you knew that they were immortal, so they had to have some idea.” I challenged.
“They had to be immortal if they were going to raise you. We couldn’t very well have put you with humans, and have you outlive generation after generation of your family, that would’ve been a disaster. They were the next best option, out in the world, a small enclave with no ties to any sides, no history of violence for ages upon ages back in their ancestral lines. They were the only option.”
It made sense, even as there was one major tripping point in her comments. “But if I’m not a prize here, why do I need to be kept safe? There is no logic.”
She heaved a heavy sigh. “Asa, trust me. Watch and learn. That you are not a target, which could easily change, does not mean you are safe, here or anywhere else. What I said was that here is the safest place for you to be, that doesn’t make you completely safe. You came to find us, here we are. I’m not going to tell you that you’re going to like what you see.”
Everything she said seemed to contradict everything else she said. Trust no one, but trust her. Yeah right. Safe here, but not safe anywhere seemed to be pretty conflicting statements in my book. My parents were assassins, but they were killed by assassins, because everyone here is an assassin? What kind of world is that? Who in their right mind would bring a child into that ever? And, who was ‘we’ that hid me? She hadn’t said ‘I.’
The only directive she gave me, that actually had any kind of merit I could see, was the ‘watch and learn’ one. Everything else was as muddy as a creek be
d. I had a sinking feeling that I was going to be doing a lot of sleeping with my eyes open, which, with everything else Nooma had just said, translated to I’d get to sleep when I was dead.
Beautiful, just beautiful.
Tracking Ghosts
WHEN EVERY MOMENT of the whole living and breathing adventure is happening inside the belly of a mountain, the difference between night and day blurs quickly. My internal clock might as well have been turning backwards for all I knew. I could no sooner tell if I should be awake, or if I should be sleeping from one moment to the next, not that I was sleeping.
I had thought to usurp Nooma’s directive and introduce myself to others as Bree, but I never got the chance. It was almost as if a memo had been sent to those in the camp that I was Asa. Everyone I encountered seemed to know that Astrid was my mother as well. Interestingly enough, no one knew, or gave any indication that they knew, who my father was. What was the big freaking secret? I didn’t have any clue who he was, and it was starting to tick me off that the question had been so deftly dodged and I hadn’t noticed at the time. I made a mental note to ask, and accept nothing short of the full truth in answer, the next time I saw Nooma. As though she knew it was imminent, I hadn’t seen her for quite a long while.
Most of those in the camp were pleasant enough, though before long, I spent most of my time with Abe, or his brother Arce. As near as I could tell, they were reasonably close to my age. They too were orphans, or orphans of a sort. Their situation was the mirror reversal of mine however. They knew who their father was, but had never known, or been told who their mother was. That in itself confused me. It would seem to me that the mother would be the easier parent to identify, but evidently not here.
Word had also spread about Anwar. Before I could put my observations of him to use, I was able to witness, what I would guess Nooma had meant about shifting targets. Anywhere I went throughout the camp, the conversations were clear. The shadow-walkers were persona non grata to all in residence now. The problem was, by definition, a shadow-walker could be standing amid your company, and you would have no knowledge, at least not any that you could visually confirm. How do you catch a ghost?
