She snuck up behind the man, quiet as a ghost, and delivered a firm whack! to the back of his head. He dropped like a stone.
She paused, braced for a fight, then stared at the body in disgust. Pitiful! she thought. Hadn't they expected some sort of attack? One would think so, but perhaps they weren't that organized.
She turned to look at Laina and found the girl sitting up, staring at the stampeding horses and spreading fires. Her eyes were wide. "You guys don't mess around,” she said, amazed. Then she blinked. “For a while I thought you weren't coming.”
"We had to convince Crash that you were worth saving," Sora said, intending it to sound lighthearted, but the girl went pale. She regretted the comment, but there was no way to take it back. “Come on, let's get out of here.”
"You can open it, right?" she asked, indicating the door of the cage. Sora leaned down to inspect it. The bars had been tied shut with metal wire. It didn't look very strong. She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, please,” she grunted, and took out her knife. With a firm, hard shove, she pushed the blade under the wiring and heaved upwards, slicing through it with minimal difficulty. Within seconds, the wire was cleaved in half and she yanked the door open. It shrieked on its hinges, a horrible scraping noise.
Laina sprang to her feet and out the opening, quick as a rabbit. Sora followed suit. They'll notice what's going on any minute now. “We need to go!” She took the lead, charging up the hill, throwing caution to the wind and making a mad dash to their tethered horses.
Abruptly a shout reached her ears. "Look!” she heard from somewhere behind her. “Lookie there! She's gettin' away!"
Uh-oh, not good! Sora grabbed the girl by her skinny arm and hauled her up the hill faster.
Surprisingly, Laina pulled back.
"Are you stupid?" Sora snapped. “Go!”
"But Burn!" she exclaimed. "We can't leave him behind!"
Sora was momentarily shocked, but continued to drag the girl along. “He's fighting for you. Don't let his efforts go to waste!” she said. She didn't know if the girl would understand... but she was suddenly reminded of her younger self, as though from another life, saying much the same thing.
They reached the top of the hill and plunged into the tall grass. In this area, the fields were wild and golden, the grass arching almost above her head, a thick mass up to her shoulders. Some of the weeds had broad tufts on the ends, like fluffy white cattails, taller than a man. Spider webs glistened in the near-darkness.
The horses were tethered only a few dozen yards away, but it was slow going through the shadows. The light was merely a gray afterglow in the sky. Sora had to trust her instincts and sense of direction. She listened for the vague shifting and shuffling of the beasts, which were still out of sight.
Laina was even slower, the tangle of plants far above her head. There was no other option but for Sora to drop back next to her.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "Did they hurt you?"
"No, I'm fine..." Laina panted. “Just... so tired....”
"The horses should be close," Sora said, hoping to encourage her. But when she looked back up, she realized that she had no idea which direction they were heading. The thick shrubbery offered no help. She kept listening for sounds from the beasts, but the clashes of battle were getting louder and the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. There was no time. She picked a route at random and took the lead again.
Behind them, the crash of bodies could be heard.
* * *
Crash fought through the disorganized crowd of bandits, looking for one in particular.
They swarmed in every which direction, chasing fires and dashing after horses. A few leapt in front of him, brandishing swords, but he slipped through them like a wraith, cutting down those who got too close. He was silent, fluid, as calm as a winter lake... except for one thought, which kept circling in his mind like a lone hawk. Where is he?
Burn fought next to him, cleaving left and right, taking down several bandits with each swipe. Eventually they stopped rushing in and kept their distance, watching warily, uncertain.
“We have to get out of here before we get too deep into the camp,” Burn called to him. “Do you see Sora's bag anywhere?”
“No, but I know where it is,” Crash replied confidently.
Suddenly the assassin spotted him. His prey had harnessed one of the horses and was struggling toward the opposite side of the encampment, two other riders with him. It looked like he was trying to escape.
A rare grin passed over Crash's veiled face. Too easy. He could have thrown a knife to end the ordeal; his aim was perfect at this distance, and his hand itched to do it. He had already picked out the man's exposed neck, or perhaps his chest, unprotected by a thin linen shirt. But no, not this time. Crash wanted more than that. He needed to see those sickly green eyes; needed to know for sure....
“Go,” he called to Burn, and waved his hand, motioning to the edge of the camp. “Get out of here. Go meet Sora.”
“You sure?” Burn yelled. Then a bandit jumped at him from behind a pile of wood, thinking to take the Wolfy off-guard. He caught the man in mid-air and tossed him to the side.
“I'm sure,” Crash said, a glint in his eye. “See you in an hour.”
“Right.” Burn turned and started back toward the open plains. There was a horse milling around next to a spilled basket of hay. Crash saw him reach for the reins of the large beast.
Then the assassin went after a horse of his own and managed to grab one within a minute, unharnessed and wild from the fire. He caught the beast as it passed, jumping onto it bareback, firmly gripping the mane. After a short struggle of wills, he won control, then charged effortlessly through the masses. He was faster now that he had a target, directing the beast with his legs. It was the way he had originally learned to ride, back in his youth, when he had spent hours and hours on the beach, dashing through sand, rushing the surf and practicing with his bow.
He galloped to the other side of the camp, following his prey's trail. No one tried to stop him. On horseback, the Ravens barely glanced at him, too busy putting out fires.
His prey's trail led up the opposite riverbank and into the fields. Crash thundered after him, up the rocky ridge, into the wilderness, pushing the beast as fast as it could go. They danced over rocks and plunged through the tall grass. The light was dead in the sky, full nightfall upon them, the stars gleaming up above. If anything, Crash could see just as well in the darkness, his eyes bright and his senses attuned.
Within minutes, he caught up with them. Three figures struggled ahead of him, caught in a thick patch of bramble, the grass so high that the horses were practically drowning.
He drew his dagger and, with skilled aim, sent it flying through the neck of the nearest rider.
The first bandit fell from his horse, crumpling silently, so sudden that the beast didn't even respond. The other rider noticed and turned, eyes searching the darkness warily, but Crash leapt from his steed and entered the tall grass, becoming invisible. He drew another knife from his cloak, this one smaller, thinner, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the blade spinning into the second man's throat. The second rider fell just as silently as the first, almost gracefully, like a swan into black water.
The last one was their leader. Crash could sense his presence in the darkness; it was firm, confident.
The man leapt from his horse, landing smoothly on the ground. He peered into the shadows. Though Crash hadn't moved, the man's eyes went directly to him, staring at the thick patch of brush where he crouched. He knew this was the same one who had attacked Sora, and who doubtlessly had her bag.... They faced each other, a mere yard apart, and Crash stared at that scarred face.
He could remember the scar... recognized it. He could even remember the knife that had dealt it—a fine blade that his teacher had given him, so many years ago, long since lost in a river. They had been boys then, fighting for a title, a Name, too young to know anything else
. Now they were older... but he doubted the man had forgotten.
His opponent stooped to the ground briefly, tugging the blade from the throat of the first rider. In that moment, the clouds shifted overhead and a full moon appeared, silver light cascading down upon them. The blade gleamed. The Raven's eyes flickered over it. Then he grinned.
“I remember this dagger,” the man murmured. “Viper.” His voice slid through the air like thick oil. “Fate is strange, indeed.”
“As I recall, they exiled you,” Crash replied, summoning the memories as though from a dream. How long had it been? Ten years, at least.
“I wanted that Name: the Viper,” the man laughed softly. “Wanted it badly. But you earned it....” He tossed the blade back to him. It landed at Crash's feet. “Yes, they exiled me after I lost that match.”
Crash picked up the dagger, gazing at it, lingering. They had grown up in the Hive, a nest of assassins trained in the killing arts. It was their heritage, their tradition. Born nameless, they had to earn their titles through combat. And if one competed for a Name and lost, he was exiled.
“What do they call you now?” Crash asked.
The man shrugged. “I'm the Raven leader,” he said. “I have made a life here, you could say.” Then he grinned. “But what is the Viper doing so far from home? On a mission? Or... have you abandoned the Hive?”
Crash didn't reply. The truth was much more complicated than that, and he wouldn't waste his time explaining it to a dead man.
“You have something that belongs to me,” Crash said instead.
“Do I?” the man replied. A sickly grin twisted his face, the scar contorting into a snarl. “To you... or to the Dark God?”
Crash's heart gave a vague thump, though he didn't show it. So the bastard knew—of course he knew.
He didn't have to ask the next question; the Raven leader continued talking. “The girl brought it to us, tried to barter for her life. It didn't work. But, ironically, I do know someone who would be eager to take it off your hands....”
“Who?”
“A mutual acquaintance.”
Crash's hand tightened on the dagger. His mind raced momentarily, summoning up images from the Hive, the colony, supposed Brothers and Sisters of the assassin trade. He pictured each and every one of them, but he didn't know who belonged to the Shade, and there were many different Hives.
“I'm done with this game,” Crash said, and he took a step forward, leaving the safety of the tall grass and entering the bright moonlight.
“Wait!” the bandit said, and danced backwards. He pointed to his horse, where Crash could see Sora's bag hanging from the saddle. “A trade. I can barter for you. I am meeting with them in Delbar. We'll split the money.”
Crash continued to walk forward. “I have no need of money.”
“Forgiveness, then... acceptance back into the Hive, where we belong... we don't need to be alone.”
“I left the Hive.”
The man stumbled backward, overwhelmed by Crash's presence. Then a strange, frantic light lit his eyes, like a cornered animal. With a flick of his wrist, a knife appeared in his hand and he lunged forward, swiping wildly, attempting to cut anywhere he could reach.
Crash caught the blade with his own. He deflected the blow and grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it up and over his head, smoothly snapping his arm as he brought it down behind him.
The man screamed.
“Where are you meeting them?” Crash asked calmly.
The man was gasping, whimpering. “At the port... the docks....” he choked out, barely able to speak. Crash shoved him backwards and the man collapsed to the ground, his broken arm limp and useless next to him. “Please...” he begged. “Please, I just wanted my life back.”
“We aren't alive, or have you forgotten?” Crash murmured, slowly walking forward, following the man across the ground. “Death is our creed, our way. You're a pathetic specimen of our kind.”
The man's mouth opened. Then closed.
Crash knew what he needed to do. It wasn't for glory, for justice—nor, even, for Sora. This man was dangerous. If Volcrian found him, he would doubtlessly ally himself with the mage. It was too much of a trail, of a witness. And he knew too much about Crash's past. What if Volcrian turned his sights on the Hive? He had left it years ago, but he didn't want it destroyed.
His heart began to pound, blood rushing through his veins, his hand tight on the blade.
"So... so what then, Death has come for me personally?" the man finally said. There was irony in his tone, despite the fact that his teeth were gritting with pain.
Crash let a small smile twitch his lips. Then he lunged forward with his dagger. He had expected more of a fight, but the man crumpled beneath him without a struggle. He held the blade to his throat, pressing him back against the firm earth.
“I want this,” the man murmured. He let out a hoarse laugh, spittle touching his lips.
“Do you?”
“Yes.... Can't you see it? There is no happiness in the world for our kind,” he said. “We have trained beyond it. Removed ourselves from it. In its place sits a demon who only wants to destroy, to damage, to crush. We don't belong here, Viper. I'm tired of this loneliness. An entire band of outlaws, and no one will ever know what I am. We've both forsaken our home. Do you ever regret it?”
Crash shuddered unexpectedly; it moved through him like a brief wind. There was truth in the Raven's words. A terrible, dark truth. It was second nature now, the thin barrier dividing him from the rest of humanity. For all of the fire in his blood, he still felt cold, somehow absent from the world.
“We have always been this way,” he murmured. “Living in shadow since the Elements combined....”
“And you think it's natural?” the bandit challenged.
Viper couldn't take it anymore. These questions had plagued him for too long and asking a million times wouldn't bring an answer. Man or shadow, he would rid the world of one more menace. I am the menace, his thoughts murmured, but he brushed them aside. Doubt was an illusion. All things were meant to be destroyed. There would be no guilt in this act.
“Do you think they won't come for you?” the bandit asked suddenly. “You hold the dagger, the Name. They'll find you, Viper. They'll take back what is theirs. Aren't you tired of looking over your shoulder? You've had a few good years, I'm sure. But they are on their way. They will come to reclaim you.”
Crash shook his head. He had worried about this long before he had met Volcrian, especially during that first year on the road. Always on the lookout for others of his kind, never sure if he would wake up alive.
But now, he had the firm sense of being forgotten. Unknown.
The man's eyes glinted, as though reading his thoughts. “You think they've given up?” he asked. “Or do you think you've changed? What, are you human now?” He grinned. “Are you trying to be? I bet you are, little snake.”
Crash stared at him. What am I? Was he the Viper, the one who hid in the grass, still and silent until an innocent passerby stepped too close? Cold-blooded, fanged, his words as sharp as his own knife? He had earned that Name, once upon a time. There had been Vipers before him and there would be more to follow. It was a station and a title; the only one he had ever known.
Except for Crash, the silly nickname Dorian had given him that night by the fire, when Sora had sat scared and shivering on the ground. It was her name for him now, Crash Crash Crash. She had saved his life too, once upon a time. She had seen something worth saving. He closed his eyes momentarily. She, of all people, deserved to know who and what he was. But she will never trust me again.
It was foolish for him to regret that. Sentimental. Enough of this. Questions did not bring answers.
"I am the fire," Crash whispered. "I am the darkness." It was a mantra, a prayer, the beginnings of a ritual, a ceremonial killing. He could see recognition on the bandit's face, the spasm of fear.
Crash never broke eye contact. "I am not Death,"
he finished the verse. "I am its vessel."
The Raven opened his mouth to speak. Then Crash shoved the knife through his throat.
* * *
Laina tripped twice and Sora mentally cursed the girl's clumsiness. It was hard going through the long grass and the bandits were getting far too close. She gritted her teeth as she stubbed her toe on a root, then Laina swore loudly as she crashed through a massive spider web. This noise was followed by several audible shouts of, "They're over there!" and "Get them!"
Sora pulled the young thief around a large thistle bush, panting, desperate... then, abruptly, the horses came into view. Oh, thank the Goddess! she thought. She had been randomly stumbling through the dark for some time now, trying not to panic.
Suddenly, the girl screamed.
"Laina!" Sora exclaimed. The girl collapsed behind her and Sora grabbed her arm, her weight dragging her down. She lifted Laina under her shoulders and carried her the final few yards to the horses. Laina was unresponsive. Sora awkwardly tried to push her up into the saddle, but the horse kept dancing away.
Sora paused to focus on Laina—maybe the problem was more than just nerves. The girl was shaking and whimpering, and it didn't take long to see why. A thin shaft of wood protruded from her shoulder. Sora's eyes widened at the sight of the arrow. The girl was damned lucky that it had missed her chest, the obvious target.
Gods. Now what should I do?
"Laina, come on...” Sora said desperately. The sounds from the bandits were frighteningly close; they were seconds away from discovery. "Work with me here, focus! You have to get on the horse. Then we'll be gone like the wind."
The thief seemed about to pass out. "Sora," she choked.
Sora could tell she was trying hard to bear the pain. At any other time she would have been sympathetic, but now she was only annoyed.
Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) Page 13
