Kilig the Sword

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Kilig went to the bed. "You sleep on the floor," he said bluntly. "Don't come near me until you're ready to tell me that name."

  "Kilig, please!" Hakeem begged, on his knees, holding his throbbing erection. "Don't do this! Just love me! We'll think about that bastard tomorrow! Please?"

  Kilig switched off the lamp and rolled over, showing his back. Hakeem caught his breath as his eyes adjusted to the room's darkness. He slowly rose, went to the bed and climbed on it.

  "What are you doing?" Kilig snapped. "Go back to the floor."

  "Abhaya," he said quickly. "The man's name is Abhaya the Fearless."

  Kilig rolled over and took him in his arms. Hakeem thought he'd die for his mentor. As Kilig made love to him, he hoped he hadn't spoken too soon. Kilig wouldn't abandon him in the morning, would he?

  ***

  Kilig watched Hakeem's peaceful sleep in spite of the ray of sun coming in from the window. He should leave right now, kill accursed Abhaya and run as far as he could from the green-eyed young man.

  Hakeem was too handsome for his own good. He deserved better than the lonely life of the assassin. He obviously needed love, and trust, and companionship – something Kilig couldn't afford with his nomadic life. Although he could understand now why Saif had given up the profession to be with his son.

  Kilig sighed. He'd promised Saif he'd help Hakeem to exact his revenge, hence his job wasn't done. He'd have to introduce Hakeem to the Assassins' Guild, help him find Abhaya and then maybe he could forget ever meeting him. Maybe.

  Hakeem opened his eyes and slowly smiled. "Thank you."

  "For what?" he snapped, jarred. So much trust. Such a wonderful human being. Hakeem shouldn't become a heartless assassin. Like me.

  "For not leaving while I was asleep," Hakeem said.

  "I promised your father I'd help you," he grumbled. "Get out of bed, we need to talk to some people."

  Kilig rose and gathered his scattered clothes, promptly copied by Hakeem.

  "You know where to find the killer?" the young man asked, hopeful.

  "No, I don't know what happened after your father dumped him."

  "My... father?" Puzzled, Hakeem stopped dressing to stare at Kilig.

  "Yeah, I told you he had an apprentice when I first met him. Abhaya the Fearless. He wasn't very good with the noose and wanted to learn the use of blowguns."

  "But that's cowardly!" Hakeem protested, quickly finishing dressing since Kilig was ready.

  "I know. That's why your father dumped him. We need to find out who completed his training and what his assassin's name is. I was almost certain it was him when I saw the poisoned wound, but I needed to be sure."

  "Have you ever met him?" Hakeem stood at attention in front of him, ready now.

  "I saw him over twenty years ago. Let's go."

  They went to the canteen to grab a cup of tea and a pastry, then they went to knock on the door of the Guild's office. A middle-aged man welcomed them – the head of the Guild himself, Nimdja the Dagger.

  "Kilig! You're back already?"

  "It wasn't really a job, Nimdja, more a call for help," Kilig replied.

  Nimdja sat at his desk and pointed at the stools in front of him. "Tell me."

  Kilig sat and Hakeem next to him.

  "This is Kukri, son of Saif," he said, introducing Hakeem with his new name. Since father and son were different men, he'd thought they deserved different names. "Saif called me on his deathbed up north, and bestowed his son on me."

  "Saif is dead?" Nimdja asked, incredulous.

  "Poisoned blade," Kilig replied sharply. "Kukri said Saif named his killer. What can you tell me of Abhaya the Fearless, dropped by Acharya Saif for being untrustworthy?"

  "Um..." Nimdja pursed his lower lip, pondering. "Abhaya started his own school, I'm afraid. He is called Shamsher now, and has a small team of assassins who would die for him. He isn't a member of the Guild. You said Saif was killed by a poisoned blade?"

  Hakeem nodded, frowning with worry. "It looked like a brawl, but Father thought he recognized a face he hadn't seen in twenty years."

  "Saif never forgets a face, no matter how many years pass and how much it changes." Nimdja smiled briefly. "Did your father train you, Kukri?"

  "Acharya Kilig completed the training," Hakeem answered with a nod.

  Nimdja looked at Kilig, impressed. "It's the first time you take on an apprentice, Kilig."

  "His father had already taught him everything," Kilig retorted.

  Nimdja chuckled. "Except one thing, I assume, and you took care of that."

  "You knew my father well?" Hakeem asked, surprised.

  "Yes." Nimdja sighed. "I grew up with Saif. We had the same acharya who taught us the same laws and values – that we have passed on to people like Kilig, and now you."

  "So what was my father's birth name?"

  Kilig had never wondered about that, but now he was curious.

  "Rohit," Nimdja answered with a smile. Then he looked at Kilig again, determined. "Shamsher is an oddball, he should be stopped."

  "Is the Guild going to take the matter in its hands and deprive Saif's son of his rightful revenge?" Kilig asked defiantly.

  Nimdja grinned. "Nobody will try to stop Saif's son or Saif's only true love from exacting their revenge, Kilig. But if you need help, you know where to find us."

  Kilig gulped down the sudden lump in his throat. Saif's only true love. Why did he leave me if he loved me?

  "We all make choices, Kilig," Nimdja continued as if he'd heard his thoughts. He sounded sad now. "We all think it's the best choice at the time, but often spend our lives regretting it."

  "I don't think my father loved my mother," Hakeem said. "But he was a good father to me."

  "His heart was always with Kilig," Nimdja replied. "But he chose the responsibility of fatherhood because he didn't want you to become like Abhaya the Fearless – Shamsher, the man who eventually killed him."

  "Where is Shamsher?" Kilig asked bluntly.

  "His school dwells in the ruins of Leland," Nimdja answered.

  ***

  Hakeem followed Kilig in the streets of Godwalkar as they checked the cheapest and fastest way to go farther south. They also stopped by a blacksmith to sharpen their weapons – the daggers, the brass wheels – then ate in the open-air market, pondering on the next move.

  The ruins of Leland were a long way south and the fastest way to reach them was going downriver and then along the coast. Except they couldn't be certain Shamsher was at his keep, so Kilig decided to ask around some more to figure out the actual whereabouts of the rogue assassin.

  Kilig was talking to a man when Hakeem noticed a couple of faces that looked familiar. He frowned in concentration, then recognized all three of the men passing by, walking close together like a lord and his bodyguards, although they weren't richly dressed. More like a captain and two of his men or... a rogue assassin leader.

  Hakeem recognized the faces from the Hurlevent brawl. They had started it, involving everybody. And the leader was the one who had wounded Saif with a smirk of satisfaction.

  Without thinking, Hakeem started following them, holding tight the hilt of his dagger and clenching his teeth. Shamsher was in town, they didn't need to go south. He'd find out where the killer was based and go back to tell Kilig.

  The three split at some point, since the leader pointed one of his men in another direction, but Hakeem stuck to his heels. They reached a disused granary in the outskirts and entered it.

  Hakeem stopped and stared at the building and the crumbling huts around it. It was obviously an abandoned part of the town – maybe a pestilence had killed most and the survivors had moved away a long time ago.

  He was about to go back to the Assassin's Guild when someone threw a cloth over his head and took his breath away with a punch in his stomach. There must be two assailants – one behind and the other in front of him – but they knocked him out before he could react.

  ***


  Kilig thanked the man and discovered Hakeem was gone. I'll see him at the Assassins' Guild, he thought with a shrug.

  The doorkeeper told him Nimdja wanted to see him, so he went straight to the head of the Guild's office as soon as he reached the building.

  "Ah, Kilig!" Nimdja looked up from a letter with a frown. "I have news for you."

  He held out the piece of parchment and Kilig quickly read the short note. Shamsher wanted to meet him in town. Abhaya had used his new name, probably thinking he wouldn't know who was behind it.

  "This came in this morning," Nimdja said, thoughtful. "Spares you the trip south, I guess."

  "You think he brought all his men with him?" Kilig asked.

  Nimdja nodded. "He obviously killed Saif on purpose and now wants to brag about it with you. He probably doesn't know that you're looking for him already, though."

  "How many men does he have?"

  "Ten at the last count. The worse is his right arm, Chakram. A handsome and lethal young man as cold as Abhaya. They could be related from the way they resemble each other."

  "Mm... I'm not going in through the front door, that's for sure." Kilig pondered.

  "You could, as long as you have Kukri covering your back."

  Which reminded Kilig he'd lost track of Hakeem. He excused himself with Nimdja and went to his room. Empty. He asked the doorkeeper, but the man hadn't seen Hakeem come back.

  Kilig cursed under his breath. Hakeem was in trouble.

  ***

  Hakeem came back to his senses from the pain in his shoulders and wrists. His hands were tied over his head, and if he stood, the strain was less numbing. He realized he was naked and saw his clothes and weapons dumped in a corner, out of reach.

  He looked around the empty granary, but the faraway corners were completely in the dark. There was an opening in the ceiling that shot light into a very limited space that included him, a rectangular table and a couple stools.

  "You're awake." From the darkness emerged the leader. eyes and pale face over black clothes made him look like a ghost. "Weren't you told it's dangerous to follow strange armed men? You could be killed young."

  Hakeem scoffed. "I'm not a child anymore. And besides, you never stuck to the rules, did you, Abhaya the Fearless?"

  The man smirked. "I haven't heard that name in years. Who told it to you?"

  "The man you killed with a poisoned blade in a fake brawl."

  "I thought you looked familiar!" The man now stood very close to him and gave him the once-over. "You're Saif's last apprentice?"

  "I'm his son," Hakeem spat out, trying to ram his head in the man's chest and failing, since the rope didn't allow him much movement.

  "His son!" Abhaya burst out laughing. "Well, now, Saif's legacy is made of two men! Have you already met Kilig? He was a scrawny teenager when I met him, but I'm sure he turned out to be a handsome man."

  He's gorgeous, wonderful, everything I ever dreamed of, but I'm not telling you, bastard!

  "No, I haven't met him." Hakeem tried to retreat from the man who brushed his torso with his fingers.

  "Why did you come to Godwalkar?"

  "To find you and avenge my father."

  "With whose help?"

  "Nobody's."

  "Well, then, you're as good as dead now." Abhaya smirked. "But I'd rather kill Kilig first."

  "He will kill you." Hakeem couldn't stop the outburst and then pursed his lips, frowning.

  "Ah, so you do know him." Abhaya scoffed. "Does he know Saif is dead?"

  "Yes." Hakeem admitted with a frown.

  "Good, good! And where is Kilig now?"

  Hakeem clenched his teeth and averted his eyes.

  "Are you already his lover?" Abhaya continued. "Yes you are." He sniggered. "You really think Kilig is going to save you?"

  Hakeem kept his mouth shut, determined not to say another word to the sneaky man in front of him. He really wanted Abhaya dead.

  The light moved fast as Abhaya questioned him, and when he refused to speak, the rogue assassin ordered to "pull him up."

  Hakeem found himself hanging from his wrists a palm off the ground, with a young man answering to the name of Chakram whipping him at irregular intervals, which made every lash unexpected and more painful.

  Torches were lit as the opening in the ceiling became dark as night. Hakeem couldn't feel his hands anymore and had trouble catching his breath. He saw four men inside the granary with their leader, and wondered how many more were outside, waiting for Kilig to show up.

  "Kilig must have gotten the message, by now," Abhaya said impatiently. "What is he waiting for?"

  "The night," Chakram replied. "Assassins work better at night."

  "But we're ready for him. Everybody in their position?"

  "Yes, Shamsher."

  "Cowards," Hakeem whispered.

  Chakram promptly whipped him and he almost lost consciousness from the pain. Then a brass wheel cut his rope and he crumbled to the ground.

  ***

  Kilig had killed three men on his way to the granary and saw there were three more around it. He waited for sunset and quickly disposed of those three as well, using the noose and the brass wheels, recovering all the weapons before climbing the granary with the help of a hook and a rope.

  He glanced inside, his face covered with black cloth that left only his eyes out, and saw Hakeem hanging from his wrists, sweaty and bloodied, the traitor Abhaya and the last four men. He identified Chakram as the whip-holder, but he needed to ease Hakeem down before killing him.

  He took one of his two brass wheels and put it on the finger of his left hand, making it spin before hurling it at the rope. Hakeem collapsed, but the rogues' attention turned to the opening in the ceiling of the granary.

  Abhaya jumped to his feet, looking up.

  "At last, Kilig! Come down to play!" He grabbed Hakeem by his hair and pulled him up, pointing his twin-bladed dagger at Hakeem's throat.

  Kilig threw the rope inside the granary and quickly climbed down, jumping to stand in front of Abhaya. The weathered face was pretty much as he remembered it, so he wasn't surprised Saif had recognized his former apprentice. The smirk and eyes were still the same twenty-some years later.

  "Show me your face, Kilig," Abhaya ordered, slightly pressing the twin blades on Hakeem's throat. "Don't worry, this dagger is not poisoned."

  Kilig unfolded his headpiece and stared at Abhaya.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Because he refused to train me to take on... you." Abhaya's eyes had a mix of contempt and admiration in them. "So he bestowed his gorgeous son on you, didn't he?"

  "Why now?" Kilig insisted, ignoring the question.

  "Well, obviously because it took me some time to complete my training on my own and then some more time to find out where he had retired," Abhaya retorted. "And I couldn't figure out where he was until his goddamn wife died and he took on the trade again."

  "Twenty years is a long time to exact revenge."

  "Exactly. And you expect to avenge him in twenty days?"

  "It's been two months, Abhaya."

  "Either you call me Shamsher, or I'll start calling you Karuna," Abhaya warned.

  "You're not a member of the Guild, therefore I will not use your assassin's name," Kilig replied.

  Abhaya threw Hakeem into Chakram's arms and marched on him, lips so thin they were almost invisible.

  "I am not a member because of Saif," he said through clenched teeth. "Now I will get rid of his legacy and start a new guild with new rules."

  "You can't beat the Assassins' Guild with four men," Kilig retorted.

  "Ten."

  "Four."

  "Bastard..." Abhaya turned to Chakram. "Do what you want with Saif's son. We're taking care of Kilig the Sword." He stared defiantly at Kilig who smiled and threw his noose at the farthest opponent that collapsed with a death rattle.

  "You could never learn to do that, could you?" he mocked. "Now, we're still two against one. Are
n't we a little cowardly, Abhaya the Fearless?"

  Abhaya attacked with a scream of hatred. Kilig grabbed his dagger, clicked open the triple blades and prepared for the fight.

  ***

  Chakram slammed Hakeem facedown on the table, so he was bent with his still tied arms crushed between the wood and his torso. Chakram kept him down with a firm hand on the neck, while he forced his legs open, sniggering.

  "I'm going to fuck you, and then I'm going to kill you," Chakram whispered in Hakeem's ear before licking some blood off of Hakeem's back. "Mm, you taste delicious!" he added, pressing his dick against Hakeem's opening.

  I so wanted Kilig to be the first to do it, Hakeem thought, stiffening in spite of the aches and listening worried to the thrashing sounds of the fight nearby. He knew Kilig could stand his ground with two opponents, and tried to gather his own strength to get rid of his assailant.

  "Gods, you're tight!" Chakram chuckled. "Let me in, you will enjoy it, I promise! You will die of pleasure!"

  Hakeem tried to shake him off and Chakram banged his head on the table, dazing him enough that he relented a little. Still, Chakram was barely inside him and he was slowly regaining control of his hands, still tied together, but not so numb anymore.

  I will kill you, Chakram, he thought, anger rising inside him. Before Chakram managed to enter him and hurt him even more, he joined his hands in a single fist and suddenly rose, swinging the joined hands behind him with a battle scream.

  Hit in the face, Chakram was thrown back, his nose bleeding, but he immediately attacked again, grunting with anger and throwing him to the ground where he pinned him with his weight.

  "Open your legs, bitch!"

  Again Hakeem tried to ram his head into Chakram's chest, since the other man held the rope and his wrists with one hand, but Chakram punched him in the face, making his head spin.

  He collapsed, panting, and Chakram took advantage of his position to spread his legs and try to fuck him again, almost choking him with a hand on his neck. Hakeem didn't know if he should use his hands to free his neck or stop the abuse of his ass as he struggled to breathe and pain coursed through his whole body.

  ***

  Kilig threw the bulkier assassin on the table, breaking both the furniture and the man's neck, then rushed to rescue Hakeem before Chakram violated him. His triple blade sank into Chakram's back as he grabbed Hakeem's own dagger, which was nearby, to cut Chakram's throat, choking his scream.