My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  A snort broke through Anjali's nose, her lips lifting in a protective smile as she ran her fingertips over the back of her nails. "Right to that one, huh? Don't want to ask me when my birthday is? My favorite color?" Her eyes smoldered and her voice dipped down into a growl, "What I like in bed?"

  Glaring, Rosamund folded her arms. She'd been trying to be respectful of the woman, but her inability to say who this supposed attacking assassin was or give any hints was wearing greatly upon her.

  "Right," Anjali held her hands up, "fine. Don't want to piss off a Princess, got it. By the by, if you're going to execute me, sharpen the headsman's axe. I may have a thin neck, but it's strong."

  The never unnerved assassin began to pace back and forth through the grass left untended beside a shade tree. She seemed to be speaking something in her native tongue, her hands rolling with the words to get them all right before turning to Rosie, "Tell me something. Why did you become a princess?"

  "I was born into it," she blinked in confusion at the obvious, "I don't really have a choice."

  "They like to make us think we don't have choices, but we all do. You could run away. Walk up to your father and tell him, King Sir, I do not wish to be Queen. Then book it to Antiva, or maybe Tevinter." Anjali suddenly tipped her head to the side, "Those diaphanous robes they wear up in Tevinter would practically kiss your body."

  "Anjali..." Rosie prompted, wanting an answer.

  "I didn't have a choice either, not really. What skills I had lent me out to this line of work. Everyone's got to eat and...I suppose I didn't want to do anything else."

  "Nothing? What about something honest?"

  She snorted, "This is honest work. You tell me to kill someone, I kill them, you give me money. Sounds no less honest than the dock worker, or the tax collector, or the prostitute."

  It sounded cruel to her. To view life so cheaply that one can easily decide to cut it away in exchange for a few coins.

  "There it is, that judging look. Knew it'd pop up eventually," she jabbed a finger at Rosie who tried to shake it away but was too late. "Tell me Princess, what about your hole problem?"

  "What about it?"

  The assassin shrugged, "What are you going to do to fix it?"

  "I'm not..." she hung her head down and sighed, "I don't know."

  "And in the meantime, while all the politicians are arguing out in their high towers if the problem's even worth fixing, some hapless farmer could fall down it and break his neck. Does that seem like honest work to you? Man's got to eat. Fields got to be plowed. Crops planted. Be down right stupid to give up all this land just because there's a hole in it."

  Rosie glared at the hole. It seemed such a minor nuisance all things considered. Stay away from it. Easy. Problem solved. But Anjali was right. People wouldn't keep away, people never kept away. Gulping, her eyes turned back to the assassin. Even if you told them that it was dangerous, even if they knew in their heart it was. Some people couldn't stay away.

  "At least in my dishonest work, I get paid for it and can travel to exotic locations like a dirt field," she raised her hands to encompass the area and shouted so loud a few of the townsfolk looked over and glared. "What say you to that, Princess?"

  She took in a slow breath, listening to the beat of her heart, "That there is some validity in your words."

  That caught the woman fully off balance, Anjali stumbling back a moment. "You...you're a crafty one," she said, gesticulating at Rosie. "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

  "I haven't stopped you yet," Rosie responded, the words slipping free from every constraint she kept in place. Her body froze in place at the easy nature she shared with this woman -- the banter, the...foolish words. Implications hammered upon her mind like icicles tumbling off the eaves of the castle archways. If anyone knew...

  Anjali didn't smarm back. She slipped her luscious bottom lip into her mouth and her white teeth bit down onto it. "Good to, ahem, hear."

  Her cheeks fully burning and her gut churning, Rosie moved to head back to her fellow advisors, when she glanced over at Anjali. "But if you could, would you give up being an assassin?"

  "If a better offer came along, sure," her smile raised higher, "I just haven't gotten it yet."

  "My Lady!" Avery's petulant whine broke through the heady air, Rosie twisting to see what he wanted when darkness erupted from out of the hole. It looked like a nest of bats escaping to do their nightly hunting, or a deadly fog leeching from a hole in a swamp. But both of those would have been preferable to what she spotted rising from the exposed deep roads.

  "Holy shit!" someone screamed, "Darkspawn!"

  Avery turned to glance over his shoulder, no doubt about to crack a laugh at the idea, when his jaw fell slack. A white face, the skin cracked like dying dirt so black oozed where normal blood would be, lashed its tongue near Avery's face before it drew back a sword and stabbed it right through the man's reedy chest.

  "No!" Rosamund cried, about to run forward when she felt an arm upon her. They were trying to keep her safe as the ground erupted. A dozen genlocks, ten hurlocks, and what she could only assume was a shriek all leapt out of the hole. Fingers dug into spines, feet into hips as they all climbed over top of each other to get free of the hole.

  "Mayor," one of the archers along the side shouted, trying to wave the man back. An arrow flitted through the air, sticking right into the throat of a genlock rising from the earth. Digging his heels in, the mayor ran back towards the trees and the safety of the archery line.

  Snarling, the darkspawn grabbed onto Avery's dead shoulder and shoved the body forward off of his sword. Caring not a whit for the man it murdered, the creature turned to eye up the rest of the militia trying to unsheathe their swords and prepare for battle. Rosie's heart beat rapidly in her chest. She'd heard tales of darkspawn her whole life. How her father fought them off and saved Ferelden. They were as real to her as the bogeyman was, a dangerous creature that flitted through an excited girl's closet or under her bed. An excuse to keep her busy father with her for a few more minutes while he pretended to kill them. This wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening.

  "Protect the Princess," a guard ordered and she caught the gritted jawline of the male Knight sent with her. Where was the female one? Where was everyone?

  "Someone needs to send for help, for reinforcements!" Rosie shouted, trying to look back to where the campsite was.

  "We have to protect the village!" one of the militia shouted, her hands waving the sword as menacingly as she could.

  The darkspawn took stock of their new surroundings, each one hobbling like their spine didn't fit inside their body. As a pack, they fanned out, the one that killed Avery the closest to a leader as they came. It launched forward, snarling to sink its rotted teeth into Rosamund, but the knight met its attack first.

  Instinctively, Rosie stepped forward, but the hand tugged her back harder. "Damn it," she tried to shake it away and turned to find it wasn't a guard, a squire, or even the militia pinning her in place but Anjali. The woman had one hand sliding along the hilt of her dagger, but every time she tried to yank it free, it'd collapse back into the sheathe.

  Shit, the ties!

  As the darkspawn shattered into the humans like a wave beating into the shore, Rosie tried to shrink back into the tree line, her fingers gripping onto Anjali's. The assassin's eyes were stark white and widening as she watched the utter contempt darkspawn showed on the field. It was like trying to fight an armed weasel. No finesse, no sportsmanlike conduct, just brutal killing at all costs.

  A man's scream erupted through the air, churning Rosie's guts along with the stench of blight, poisoned flesh, and blood. There seemed to be no goodness left in the world as the battle and fetid smells of darkspawn encompassed them. "You," Rosie dashed over to one of the militia archers. He turned at the sight of her, but didn't put down the bow. "I need a knife, dagger, something."

  "Your Majesty, this is not a fight you should enter," he ordered, launching a
n arrow towards a hurlock. It bounced off the metal backplate the creature slapped on. The twisted monster found it hilarious, throwing its head back and shrieking in laughter.

  "It's not for me, it's for..." Rosie glanced over to spot Anjali watching a line about to buckle. The militia weren't trained for this, no one was, not in decades. No one fought darkspawn anymore! Sensing its inevitable doom, the assassin gave up on yanking free her blades and dropped her hands into position as if she could hope to punch a hurlock to death.

  "Blighted hell," Rosie cursed. Not caring how improper it was, she reached inside of the archer's vest, her hand skimming over his chest. The bow wobbled in his fingers as his eyes darted over to her, but she didn't give a shit. It took her a few random grabs at thin air before she felt it. A leather grip sticking out of something. Wrapping her palm around it, Rosie drew forth a small knife. It wouldn't work for a defense, but it was all she needed.

  "Princess!" the archer shouted as Rosie turned on her heel and ran after Anjali. The assassin was eyeing up a genlock that in turn stared her down. Its red eyes darted to her empty hands and it grinned, the dagger point teeth chittering in a laugh. Hurling its sword back against its shoulder, it made a run for Anjali.

  No! Rosie didn't close her eyes, but she felt her heart drop out of her chest as the armed creature's blight-coated sword drew right near Anjali's chest. At the last second, the assassin darted backwards, avoiding the blade. She pivoted in place, punching her fist into the back of the darkspawn's head, but the creature barely blinked, turning around to take her on another time.

  Cursing at herself for watching, Rosie dashed across the field, her damn dress whipping against her legs. Anjali looked over at her, her lips mouthing that the Princess was out of her mind, while the genlock too stared. It was a glare of utter contempt and hunger, all it wanted was death to feed its rotten soul. Extending the dagger, Rosie jammed a hand onto Anjali's back and swiped off the first thread.

  Catching on quickly, the assassin drew her weapon while Rosie freed the second. With the tables turned, the genlock was being careful. This was the bastard that killed Avery. Anjali slid around, her body trying to block Rosamund from the attack while she cooed at the darkspawn, "Let's see what's in that white skull of yours."

  With its sword held high, the genlock rushed towards her -- its throat shrieking nonsense. Its blade swung left, but Anjali countered it with the dagger in her right hand. She threw the monster's sword to the side and with her left dagger, crushed the blade straight down into its skull.

  The darkspawn froze in its tracks, its hands dropping to the ground. When its sword struck the grass, the eyes rolled back and it too crumpled to its knees. With a sneer, Anjali yanked her dagger free, black blood burbling out of the hole like a fountain. "Ugh," she groaned, "that smell. It will never escape me."

  After trying to whip away the worst of it, she turned around to spot Rosie, her eyes wide, "Are you okay?"

  "Yes," she assured her. She did nothing more than cut a piece of twine. It was foolish to worry about her state, but the assassin ran her fingers still clinging to the dagger over top of Rosie's. She wanted to return the sentiment, when she spotted the darkspawn converging upon the militia archer.

  Anjali fought her way through them, but when they reached the man he was clutching his arm in agony. "Cut right through me. Can't use it. Get back to safety, warn the others."

  His princess nodded. If she roused her people, they could easily take care of these few stragglers. But in the meantime some might slip through and harm the innocents down in the village. What should she do? Rosie's eyes whipped back from the campsite to the village in consternation, when they landed upon Anjali's. This was her honest work.

  "You," Rosie ordered to the archer, "can you stand?"

  "I think so..." he stumbled to a knee and groaned loudly. Anjali tried to prop him up while Rosie relieved him of his quiver.

  "Go back to the village, warn them," Rosamund ordered.

  "My Lady," the archer's eyes widened as she plucked up his bow and spun it into place. "What are you doing?"

  "What I was born to do. Now go. That's an order from the Princess." The archer stood dumbstruck, his crimson blood splashing into the black ichor strewn upon the ground. Rosie nocked an arrow, her eye sighting down it to find a shriek about to unleash its debilitating scream.

  Releasing her hold, the arrow flitted through the air and struck right into the meat of the creature. It screamed all right, but a new kind as its clawed fingers scraped against the shaft of wood sticking out of its throat.

  Rosie glanced back over her shoulder to find the archer standing dumbstruck, "Go already."

  "Yes, Ser," he saluted and hobbled towards his people.

  "'What I was born to do?'" Anjali repeated as she spun her daggers into place.

  After firing off another two arrows, both sticking but not fatal, Rosie sighed, "Too much?"

  "No, it was...memorable. You're good at this." She wasn't dashing into the fray, but remained by Rosie's side. When a hurlock broke off from the pack to try and attack this new archer, Anjali met him with a knife to the gut.

  It wasn't going to be easy, but they were gaining the upper hand. Rosie kept her barrage up, her aim growing truer as she found the bow's favor. Arrows sunk deep into eyes and chests, real ones instead of dots painted onto the side of straw. They had this, they could win. She made the right call after all.

  Reaching behind her, Rosie's fingers flitted through the air to find an arrow but knocked around nothing until she could snag only one. With weary eyes, she sighted it against the last darkspawn, when the knight's shield bashed so hard into his jaw, the head tipped backwards and something internal must have snapped. When the creature fell, the head landed at a disgusting angle, its entire body collapsing and not getting up.

  They did it. They won. Rosie reached over to try and pat Anjali on the back, her final arrow saved, when a rumbling rose out of the ground. Gritting her teeth, Rosie nocked the final arrow and waited. When the mass rose up, all the blood drained from her face.

  Twice as many darkspawn as before, all armed and ready for death, clambered out of the deep roads. She guessed wrong. A final foolish chuckle rolled in Rosie's throat as she pulled the bowstring back. There would be no help, no one to stop them but this final pathetic line.

  She wasn't going to go down without trying.

  Releasing the bowstring, the last arrow stuck right into the lead hurlock's eye. Its head snapped back and it crumbled to its knees.

  "Charge!" was probably the last order the Princess of Ferelden would ever give.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Fire and Steel

  Shadows flitting over the tent walls was the first thing to draw Gavin's attention. He sat up, dragging Myra's mumbling, half-awake state with. Somehow she'd managed to fall asleep while he was left wide awake. Her fingers patted through her hair, trying to draw the braid back around as she wondered aloud what was going on.

  A scream answered her.

  It sounded of one formed from terror not pain, but both of them scrabbled outside in shock and turned to find people running madly through the maze of tents. "What's going on?" Gavin shouted, trying to see if there was fire or something worse invading the caravan.

  Myra grabbed onto his arm and pointed towards the south end of the tents. A mass of pitch black armor was swarming like insects through the crowd. "Is that...?" she stuttered, a hand clamped to her mouth.

  Darkspawn.

  Ducking into the tent, Gavin quickly snatched up his sword leaving the scabbard where it fell. With the worn leather of the grip conforming to fit with the calluses eroded into his pads, a strange calm washed over him. He could do this. He was trained. He was prepared.

  He had to.

  Gavin took a step towards the mass, only to have Myra suddenly scream, "Darkspawn." He didn't think, simply threw his sword arm up and met with the wide swing of the hurlock's blade. The grating sound of metal slicing thro
ugh itself ripped up Gavin's brain, but he held on. Up close these creatures were horrifying beyond anything a morality play could conjure. Skin, white as death, was peeling and flapping in layers off of a body that was nothing but bones. The remaining flesh receded even further from its latch upon the muscles, revealing deep black gums while the snarling lips dripped ichor coated saliva against sharp teeth.

  He struggled to maintain a hold, when the stench of a rotting strip of flesh left in the summer sun struck him. It was so overpowering, he had to turn his head to gasp in a breath of proper air before being able to attack. The hurlock seemed to sense that, jabbering forward and stabbing at random with the sword it must have stolen.

  "Myra," Gavin reached back blindly with his free arm trying to snag her, "stay behind me."

  "What?" she gasped, watching as another two of the smaller darkspawn came lopping down the alley. They extended their swords and kept stabbing haphazardly at tents in the off chance there might be someone hiding inside.

  "It's my job to protect you," Gavin explained. His sword bounced off another attack, twisting the hurlock's blade around until it bit into the ground. With a quick thrust forward, Gavin sliced into the creature's throat, the black bile inside spilling out into the grass. It sizzled where it struck, burning the bright greens of summer to a lifeless grey that would never grow again.

  Panting, Gavin lifted his sword and eyed up the two oncoming genlocks. Behind him, Myra shouted, "Fine, but is there anything in that job description of yours that says I can't protect you?"

  "No," he laughed, "I don't believe so."

  "Good," she pressed right against his back, both hands extended above his shoulders. Fire hotter than a lava field erupted off of her fingertips, the spurting flames driving right into the two genlock bodies. They shrieked in agony, Myra's magic burning their skin to a charred black below the burst of red and yellow. Both of the monsters screamed more, dropping to their knees in agony, when Gavin stepped forward, drew back his blade, and beheaded them both.