|
|
|
First KillThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by David Relic | |
| Thursday, 10 July 2008 | |
Beads of sweat rolled off his chest, trickling down his ribcage. Rolling to his side, Jarek struggled in vain to find a position on his uncomfortable wooden bunk that might relax his exhausted body. All throughout his dark barrack, he heard nineteen other students grappling with the same problem. In the eight years he'd called the Graven Academy home, this was by far the hottest summer he could remember. A sword slowly hissed out of its scabbard next to him. "Put it away, Lex," Jarek said softly, his eyes still closed. "I can't stop looking at it," the voice whispered back. "Its flawless." Jarek sighed and opened his eyes. Reaching back, he touched the pummel of his own short, double edged sword propped against his bed. The grip, bound in fine leather, was situated below a simple guard of bronze. Jarek left the blade where it was and propped himself up on his elbow. It was too hot to sleep anyway. Three candles were lit in the barracks, one of which was situated between them on a small table. Lex was in the bunk next to him, admiring his teeth in the reflection of his new sword. The air was stifling and hot. Academy law states that the windows of barracks remain closed and locked at all times. Here at Graven, they must learn to be uncomfortable. "Why do you think they wait so long to issue us these?" Lex wondered softly, examining the weapon. "We were ready for them years ago." "Try not to stab yourself," Jarek whispered, lying back down. "We just got them tonight, and needing stitches before breakfast would be embarrassing." Jarek heard the blade slide home once more into its scabbard. Gods, it was hot. "Why do you think he's sleeping with us now?" Lex asked quietly. "He had a suite, with large open windows. That must be cooler than this. And now he‘s just down the hall in the other barrack, sweating like everyone else. And I even heard that he asked for it. Who would do such a thing?" Jarek was quiet a moment. "He has to sleep with the rest of us. It's the same reason they gave him standard armor. The suite, the polished gold breastplate and greaves, they all separated him from us." "But he's the Prince. Royalty. He is separate from us." Jarek sighed. He was on the edge of sleep, and all he needed was one little moment of silence before it swallowed him up. "It's a smart move," he whispered quickly. "Ask me about it tomorrow and I'll explain it to you. Now sleep." "Do you think he'll have watch rotation?" "Sleep Lex." His neighbor settled into his bed, and quietness once more reigned over the barracks. Jarek would never get that chance to explain things to Lex.
Jareks eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in bed. A cool breeze swept across his naked stomach. Something woke him up, but he didn't know what. His eyes tried to pierce the blackness. He listened. He waited. All that could be heard was the soft breathing of his fellow students, and the hypnotic sound of the cicadas outside. Everything was as it should be. But then what was bothering him? Another cool breeze swept across him. Rising, Jarek noticed that all five of the barracks windows were open, and its candles blown out. Moving towards each, he closed them and locked their latches. If an instructor saw even one open, they would all be made to suffer. It was probably Vakka, or Norikan. They both complained constantly of the heat. But, they were from the north, and their summers were much cooler than Graven's. The floorboards creaked softly as Jareks bare feet moved back to his bed. A muffled sound was heard out in the hallway. Jarek stopped. His heart began to pound, but he didn't know why. Who had hall watch tonight, his mind raced? Fenton had it last night, so tonight would be Hoyte. Just what was he doing out there? Jarek silently moved to the barracks main door and cracked it open. Moonlight from the window at the end of the hall illuminated where Hoyte should be, but he wasn't there. Maybe he had to piss, Jarek wondered as he moved out into the hall. Stepping into the pale light, he froze. A streak of blood was smeared across the floor, black in the moonlight. Jareks eyes followed the streak down half the hall and watched a shadowy figure dragging Hoytes lifeless body across the floor. The figure looked up and stopped moving. Time for Jarek slowed to an agonizing crawl. He noticed that the boy who had watch tonight didn't even have a chance to draw his dagger from his waist. The dark figure reached for something so slowly that it seemed as if everything was happening underwater. Jarek saw the moonlit glitter of steel in the figures hand as it was raised over his head, then sent hurtling towards him only to disappear from human sight in the dark hallway. Jarek was already moving. His body wasn't his own anymore, and his mind could only observe the events that were unfolding before him. It was an odd sensation, and one that he would eventually learn to trust, but for now it was very new to him. There was no fear, and the body that used to be under his control reversed the slowness of time, replacing it with something he would also eventually learn to trust: Fury. Rolling to the right, he heard the small blade clatter harmlessly behind him. He came up fast and smooth, on his feet before he even knew he rolled. "Assassin!" he screamed repeatedly, his eyes focused on the man at the end of the hall. Hoyte was dead, and he knew the man had come for the Prince. The dark figure had expected the boy to retreat through the barrack door from whence he came. Instead, the youth was in full sprint, closing the distance between them like a wild cat, his bare feet softly hammering the floor The assassin took a step back from Hoytes body and drew another small blade, but the boy was coming too fast. Dropping the knife, he calmly drew a short, curved sword from his waist. Jarek stopped screaming as he neared the dark figure. The man was dressed in black from head to toe, his face obscured in a black mask. The skin around his eyes were painted black with charcoal. Jarek new that charcoal reflected light much less than other types of facial paint. This was one thing that Jarek had been taught at Graven. But he had been taught other things as well. Jareks suicidal charge put a grin on the assassins face behind his black mask. Waiting until the unarmed youth was within killing distance, the assassins curved sword snaked out with awesome speed. The slash sang through the air, the blade so sharp it seemed to hum. The killing blow was perfectly timed, except the boy wasn't where he should be. Jarek ducked and rolled across Hoytes body, underneath the assassins strike and slightly past his left side. The shadowy figure turned for a second slash, unable to believe that he could have missed such a beautiful killing stroke. Raising his weapon a second time, he looked down to his right for the boy when an explosion of pain surged through his groin and up his body. A horrible shriek pierced the hall as the assassins sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. Both of his hands gripped his groin as he fell to his knees. The pain was unimaginable. Removing his hands from the wound, he held them in front of his face and stared at the dark mess of crimson that covered them. How have I gotten here, he wondered. The boy was unarmed. He was a boy, and he was unarmed. The assassin looked down and watched his severed artery pulsing his life out onto the floor, pooling around the dead youth who had stood watch just a few minutes earlier. Focusing on the dead boys waist, he noticed a small dagger sheath...and it was empty. "Damn," the man muttered through his mask. Jarek ripped the mans mask off from behind, tilted his head back, and swiftly cut his throat with Hoytes dagger. Slumping to the floor, the intruder gave out a soft, gurgled cry, then lay still. Jareks heart was beating wildly, the pulse at his temples hammering out its frantic pace. His mind was racing, and he tried to focus his thoughts. It was only then that he heard the discordant music of steel-on-steel coming from within the adjoining Graven barracks on either side of the hallway. The thought came to him then, angry and painful. Once more he saw the open windows, once more he saw the candles extinguished. The intruders were already in the barracks when he closed the windows. Scooping up the assassins curved sword, he heard screams and the sounds of combat coming from barracks on both sides of him. They must not have known which barrack the Prince would be in, so they attacked both. He began to move, but paused for just a heartbeat. To the Prince...or to Lex? Jarek cursed. You better be a great King, Jarek thought to himself. Help would arrive in moments anyway. Sprinting to the opposite barrack door, he shoulder slammed it open and launched himself inside. All within was madness. All within was chaos. Nothing could be seen, and the sounds of combat seemed deafening compared to the relative silence of the hallway...
Jarek was just fourteen years old... Copyright 2008 David Relic |
|
| Last Updated ( Friday, 11 July 2008 ) |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
via Email