#assassin?

Dane entered his room and left the door unlocked. It should be easy enough for her to draw the conclusion that he was the Master she was in fact searching for. Thus, one could assume she would be relaxed with her guard down when she entered. But if she were any sharper than his previous students, whom all failed this initial test, she would be ready for him. No self-respecting assassin went about trusting strangers. Everyone was a liability; no one was to be underestimated. Then again this was a child, a fresh-faced scholar from the school who teaches how to kill from ancient scrolls.

He doused the single lamp by the bedside which reduced the already dreary room to near darkness and scattered slivers of gray daylight escaping the closed curtains. He hadn’t touched a thing in the room aside from setting his saddle bag and riding coat on the only chair across from the soiled bed. This really was the worst room he’d voluntarily put himself in, in years. He shook his head at the notion that he’d become soft. If knowing silk and clean linens meant he’d lost his touch, he was done for.  One thing was always for sure, Dane was never off his guard. 

Twelve knives nestled themselves in compartments and folds of his garments and boots. He secured one long curved dagger from inside the left breast pocket he’d sewn into his innermost tunic. As he tightened his grip on the sheepskin handle of the blade, he heard the telltale squeak of the third stair. Hopefully this one wasn’t a disappointment like all the rest.  The girl’s step was easy to discern when he stilled his breath. She’d reached the top stair and paused. He used sounds of her next movement up the hall to move beside the door and press himself against the wall. He poised the dagger at his side and paused. He saw the door open and her pale hand hesitate in the open space. She was smart indeed. His goal had been to watch her enter and grab her from behind. But if she was going to wait there, he would have to move first. Again. 

Dane shot out in front of her and charged her head on, slamming her into the wall across from his open door. The dagger was inches from her throat, his forearm bearing weight across her chest to pin her in place. His face was calm and resolute, his breathing even. He pressed the dagger closer until it was only a hairsbreadth away from the delicate skin of her neck.

“Dead…” he grunted in disappointment.

That’s when Kiena reacted. She had placed a certain amount of trust in the l hope that he was in fact her teacher, in the hope that he would hesitate for that fraction of a second. Obviously, he was and he did. It was all she needed to grab hold of the dagger and fling it into the opposite wall. She kneed him just outside the groin and causing him to flinch away, but he quickly righted himself. Kiena wasn’t surprised at his quick recovery. He probably could have killed her without the knife. It was simply a ploy to throw her off her game. It had worked, she hated knives. She longed for the comfort of a bow and arrow and a high vantage point. Fighting this close had always given her more anxiety than she liked.

She charged him but before she knew what had happened he’d swept her legs from under her landing loudly on the hard, wooden floor. Leaping up, she attacked once more. Each of her blows were blocked with effort comparable to an afterthought. The disappointment and frustration between them was palpable. Together they grappled roughly, falling into the open door of his room. Once, twice, three times more she was reduced to an ungainly pile on the floor.

“You’re dead!” he hissed yet again. Kiena’s face heated like fire coals with anger. “Two out of five. Pathetic.”

“Best four out of six!” Kiena demanded rushing Dane only to be blocked and slammed against the wall. She wheezed and slid to the ground.

“I’ll save you the effort. Best not waste your time. Not unlike how you’ve wasted mine.” His mouth tweaked in disgust. “Besides, numbers aren’t what saves your life. There is never a second chance, let alone five. Only the first action.” He turned towards the door.

In the instant he gave her his back, she sprung onto him. She grappled with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a breath and slung her leg around his neck quickly bringing him down. He wrenched himself free and pulled a dagger from the inside of his left boot. Quick as a snake his right hand snapped out towards her face and she ducked bringing her elbow to the inside of his right shoulder. He cried out and dropped the dagger. Kiena grabbed it up and brought the blade expertly to his neck, positioning herself at his back. She could feel his pulse race beneath the sharp edge.

“Three out of five…” she mumbled breathlessly.

“The world is not the controlled environment of your beloved Consortium. It’s one of the reasons you came to me more crippled than you realize. You can perform satisfactory in your ivory tower, but out here, where distractions abound, you’re obviously more likely to become a pin cushion.”

With a flick of his eyes he indicated another smaller dagger poised neatly at her inner thigh. She hadn’t even felt it. If he stabbed her there, she wouldn’t last a moment still, let alone fighting.

“How...?” she exhaled.

“Is that even a question?!” He jerked his dagger free of her hand at his neck and stood in one fluid motion. And went to retrieve the dagger lodged in the wall outside of his door. As he turned away, he heard Kiena shift on the floor beginning to stand.

“No, don’t. You are out of tries; the test is over. If you try again I’ll kill you out of sheer annoyance,” he said over his shoulder.  “This had to have been some sort of joke. Albeit a humorless one. I can’t believe I sold my house…”  He loudly cleared his throat while arranging his daggers on the lamp table beside the bed.

“And I’ll bet you were top of your class, weren’t you?”

Kiena nodded dumbly from her seat on the cold stone floor. He coughed once more.

“What made you think this was a good idea? Did they tell you who I was? I didn’t even like the experts there - that bloody consortium,” he paused to cough and clear his throat again, “always perfectly prepping lambs for the slaughter since…” Kiena rose slowly.

His voice trailed off as he listened to the soft wheezing that had crept into his breath.

At his silence, Kiena looked up at him through her thick lashes.

“Oh, are you done talking now?” she said in an eerily quiet voice.

His hand gripped the night table beside him roughly, choking on another cough.

“What did you do to me?” he rasped in a low tone.

“There’s more than one way to be street savvy, Master, you should know that.” She pulled a tiny silver needle from the cuff of her sleeve. It glinted in the cold, dull lamp light. 

He felt it then a slight tinge of stinging on his neck below his left ear. When she had disarmed him of the first dagger, she must have scratched him then. He lifted a numb clumsy hand to feel the small raised graze. His vision began to blur, and he stumbled backward, awkwardly landing into the chair behind him.

“All of that lunging and grappling, got the blood pumping didn’t it? And all that talking. Goodness you must love the sound of your voice.” She slid the deadly needle back into her cuff carefully.

“What did you do to me?!” he demanded once more, urgency seeping into every word.

“Oh, don’t be a whelp. I’ve got the anecdote right here.” 

She pulled a small clear vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid from between her meager breasts.

“The question is can you possibly lower your standards long enough to teach a little brat from the Consortium?”

A jeering grin spread across her face. He couldn’t help smiling back himself.

***

@sincerestaffect @zekethegm @cogwrites @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword