Chapter Five

Looking back up the road, she couldn’t see him. She had to report to the brotherhood. To remain a member in good standing, she had to kill her mark. The sooner she informed them, the quicker she received her money.

The walk back to the house was more leisurely. She went to the kitchen to cover the pot of stew. Gorga lay stretched out across the floor. Three separate lumps made her body resemble a small range of hills. She placed the lid on the pot, turned, and saw his extra pack at the end of the counter.

Curious about his identification, she hefted it to the table. Its weight solicited a groan from her. Untying the flap strings, she peered into it. She frowned. It was filled with paper money, precious jewels, and silver and gold coins. Discouraged, she tied the flap.

Why did he carry a large amount of money? Was it stolen? Is that why she was contracted? Perhaps the victims knew he stole it, and they wanted their money and his life. Did he leave it on purpose, or was it forgotten? What devious plan had he devised? Did he leave it because he was aware of her contract? Was he trying to implicate her in his crime? She wouldn’t be bought or tricked out of her money.

Not knowing the money’s status, she decided to hide it. She may have to return it to its rightful owner. Slowly lifting the bag to avoid straining her sore ribs, she carried it to the shadow side of the fireplace. After removing several large stones from its wall, she shoved the bag into a hidden safe and replaced the rocks.

“I need to inform the guild about the mark. The sooner, the better,” she said to no one. She went to the bedroom and retrieved her weapons. Closing the door behind her, she started for town.

A gentle breeze blew from the southeast. It carried the odor of something dead. When she neared the grasslands, she saw the horses lying at the road’s edge. She didn’t recall the rotten stench when she went to the village yesterday. Covering her face, she hurried past them. Who would have killed five horses? Thin patches of dried hair covered the skeletal remains. The foul stench came from the larva and fly-infested putrescence in the rib cages. She nearly lost her supper.

A quarter of a mile further, the sweet scent of rotted flesh floated on the wind. It emanated from a small stand of trees. Forcing herself to approach the place, she found the remains of six dead men. I wonder which ones the buzzards ate first. She breathed a deep breath. A gust of wind swirled the odor around. It filled her mouth. She gagged and violently spewed her stew and bread forcefully onto the putrescent-covered grass.

Wiping her mouth, she moved closer and examined the bodies. Four had their hands and feet bound behind their backs. One’s hands were tied behind him, but his feet were free. A sixth skeleton lay near a tree in a prone position. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure it out. She turned to leave when the fading light reflected from a gold ring on a bony middle finger. She braved the rotten odor and moved closer to examine each body thoroughly. Only four wore rings. Predators had ripped the hands off two of them. Leaning down, she saw the brotherhood’s insignia molded into it.

An unknown assailant murdered six of her guild members and left their gold rings. They weren’t robbed. Why were they killed? Looking around the edge of the clearing, she found a stout piece of wood. She returned to the nearest body and broke the finger off with it. She continued to the others, broke their fingers, and retrieved the rings. She took a glove from her belt pouch and put it on her right hand, then picked it up and placed it back into the pouch.

If the murderer didn’t want the rings, she would take them to the temple and surrender them to the temple guard. It might put her in better standing with the guild. Who knows? I might keep them for myself. No one will see the difference. Besides, I can trade the gold for money to catch my mark.

Who could have committed such an atrocity? Who had the power to overcome six guild assassins? How did they manage it? It must have involved a large band to overcome six trained brothers. When did it happen? Has it been discovered yet? I need to report it as soon as possible.

Darkness would overtake her if she went to town first and then to the temple. Krinna turned southeast across the rough terrain. Climbing loose graveled hills caused her pain, but she had to reach the temple. Several times, she brushed against long spine cactus needles. Her quick reflexes added to her growing discomfort.

She prayed she would find the temple. Her muscles burned and ached, and fire ran up the nerves in her legs. She stopped at the foot of a more significant hill. Breathing slowly to alleviate her pain, she wondered if it was worth her effort. Her leg muscles burned and trembled, and her calves cramped several times. It would be nice to sit down and rest, but I’m not sure if I can continue. What am I doing out here?

I’m trying to warn the guild about what? Someone murdered the brethren sent to kill me. Dear Lord, why didn’t I see it? They are the ones who beat me and dragged me home. Who killed them? Who in the country could kill six professional assassins?

I have to warn the others. We’ll have to pool our resources to find the killer.

She slowly made her way to the hilltop. A cold wind swept out of the northwest and hit her. Her weak, hot, sweaty body chilled instantly. She faced the wind. A storm moved across the night sky. Lightning flashed. She turned and saw the temple in the distance. Another lightning bolt raced after the first one. It lit the area. The temple lay at the bottom of the ridge. It was closer than she estimated. A light twinkled to her right. She was near the town.

She traveled half the distance when large, cold raindrops splattered on the hard, dry earth, creating small mushroom clouds. She increased her speed on level ground. Passing a stone gazebo, she rushed up the temple steps and stopped. Shocked, she stared at the burnt building when the lightning flashed. The fire had been intense. It gutted the structure, and the roof fell into the interior.

Krinna forgot the temple and her aches and pains. She raced back to the pavilion, sat on the long stone seat, and stared at the temple ruins. The rain intensified, obstructing her view of the building. Tears fell from her eyes, matching the downpour.

Why am I crying? Why did I come here? They didn’t want me. I qualified as their whore until Graft grabbed me with his filthy hands. His quick death impressed them. Not once did they invite me into the temple or inner circle. Only local prostitutes were allowed on special, sacred days, which occurred twice a month.

A blinding bolt of light hit the dilapidated building. Debris flew through the air and struck the temple’s support pillars. She ducked her head and closed her eyes to regain her night vision. “Lord, that was close,” she said. Her eyes adjusted, and she stared into the dark. Thunder rolled across the heavens and the grassy plain.

The shock wave from the bolt hitting the gazebo steps knocked her backward from her seat and onto the muddy, water-drenched ground. A torrential downpour drowned out all sound. Her body trembled from the proximity of the electrical bolt and cold rain. She kept her eyes shut and placed a hand over her nose to keep the deluge from running into it. Groaning, she rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled back to her dry shelter.

“And they say lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice.” Her words sounded dull in her ears.

The saturated dirt exploded with slushy, thumping sounds. Sharp cracking noises came from the rock roof. Something hit the edge of the floor and bounced. It hit her shin and dropped at her feet. She cried out in pain and groped around in the dark until she found it. She used both hands to pick up the jagged ball of ice.

Her ears popped. She compared the sound to a barrage of cannon fire as the hailstorm drowned all sound. Large chunks of ice bounced and skipped across the floor. Quickly, she moved to the floor and crawled under the stone bench. Several pieces struck the top of the seat and the support near her head. She couldn’t hear her terrified screams.

The wind ceased, and the rain and hail stopped. Silence filled the damp night air. Water dripping from the roof broke the stillness as it fell into pools next to the building.

Something was amiss. She couldn’t hear the dripping sound. Thousands of horses’ hooves filled the rain-drenched night. Something snatched her breath away and tried to pull her from under her shelter. She wrapped both arms around the support as her feet lifted from the wet stone. Krinna held on for her life. The pulling strain on her pain-wracked body forced agonizing screams from her throat. Her eardrums wanted to explode. The sky lit up. A giant, twisting, muddy cloud moved slowly before her and disappeared into the darkness. It took forever for the galloping horses to run past. Her body floated to the cold, wet stone. Exhausted from holding onto the seat and her extended ordeal, she closed her eyes and slept.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Somewhere in her mind, birds were singing. A chattering squirrel interrupted their songs. Gradually, reality returned, and she opened her eyes. The furry nemesis sat on its haunches, watching her. It was bowled over in a flurry of flying brown fur. Immediately, it chased its playmate toward the temple.

Krinna looked at the temple ruins before going to town. Astonished, she asked aloud, “Where did it go?” Not believing her sight, she walked toward the sizeable water-flooded hole in the ground. She searched the building’s perimeter for evidence that it existed.

A robe floated to the water's surface and moved to the muddy bank. Another one popped up and swam to the edge. Curious, she took hold of a robe, pulled it onto the water’s rim, and turned it over. Rotten, decaying flesh fell from the unknown assassin’s face. She turned away to prevent vomiting.

Splashing sounds drew her attention to the watery grave. Three more dull brown, body-filled robes jettisoned to the surface. A regal robe of blue and gold shot out of the sunken pit. It reminded her of how a fish breaches the surface water and gravity jerks it back. It moved quickly to what would have been the temple’s front entrance.

She jumped to run and stopped. Placing her hand on her breast to combat the pain, she slowly inhaled the clean, moisture-laden air. “It isn’t going anywhere in a hurry,” she said, sloshed through the soft mud to the front door. She supported her ribs and pulled the robe ashore. It was the high priest. She removed his signet and placed it into a pocket. Giving the situation more thought, she removed the rings from each corpse. I don’t think they are going to glory in them anymore. I might use them in trade.

Rather than going across the country and traversing rugged terrain, she headed for Guildville. Guildville, so named by the pompous guild god, consisted of a one-way street slicing through the middle of nowhere. The heat and humidity tired her quickly. Exhausted, she finally reached the main street and entered the Drunken Goat Inn. Bar Tooth, her top informant, so named because he lived in bars from his youth, sat in the far corner. They positioned themselves so they could watch the front door. She ordered a drink from a passing waitress and asked, “What time did the temple burn down yesterday?”

He smiled compassionately at her and asked, “Where have you been, Krinna?”

“Since the day before yesterday, I have been home nursing broken ribs. Now, what can you tell me about the temple?”

“Please, don’t be coy with me. You can tell me the truth.”

“What are you talking about? Do you want me to strip for you?”

“I have wanted you to do that for a long time.” Seeing the anger flare up in her eyes, he rushed, “Many in town accuse you of doing it.”

“That is stupid. I didn’t get out of bed until yesterday. The temple was already burned when I arrived. The storm last night removed all the stones. I came straight here.”

“Krinna, someone destroyed the temple three weeks ago. It happened right after the six visited you.”

“How can it be possible? I was beaten two days ago.”

“No, you were not. The six bragged around town about what they were going to do to you. You are an example to any citizen who questions their rightful authority.”

“When they didn’t return, the priest sent someone to find them. All were tied hand and foot except Face and Mar. Dab was a broken mass of bones and flesh. He resembled a quill thrower.”

“They accused you of the murders. The priest sent word to a northern guild requesting assistance in killing you and finishing your contract. Yesterday, a team of four entered and received directions to your house from the barkeeper.”

“Are you sure they are assassins?”

“Do I know my mother? I suggest you lie low and keep a close eye on your surroundings. Who knows, maybe you can kill your mark and redeem yourself?”

“Thank you until we meet again,” she said, grimacing as she placed her hand on the table and pushed herself to her feet.

“You weren’t kidding. How many ribs did they break?”

“I don’t know. It feels like all of them,” she strolled to the exit.

I’ll have to be careful. I won’t have any friends to help me in an emergency. I can’t trust anyone except the two vipers. Why do I consider my mark a viper?

Perhaps his diamond-shaped eyes or ability to communicate with the Ba’uu draws me to him. Possibly, no, it's his calm demeanor. He doesn’t get excited or upset. I wonder who he is. Why does the client want him dead? I need to catch him. I hate to kill him, but it is a matter of principle and profit.

Krinna reached home before she realized it. The walking helped ease the stress on her ribs. She entered the path up to the house and passed through the garden, remembering the four assassins. She dropped down behind a stand of Lavender Crape Myrtle bushes and lay still. They could be in the house or hiding in the brush and grass. She removed a knife from her tunic, placed it between her teeth, and crawled around the hill’s perimeter.

Two bodies lay draped over the bench near the river. They had sat down to enjoy Gorga’s melon and died. “I guess she didn’t want to share with them. Only two of them remain. Where are they?”

The guild from the north was more significant than hers. Their members were known for their savage and efficient killings. No mark ever escaped from them. She was their mark. They had to fail.

One hundred feet from the house, she found the third assassin lying on his back. His glassy eyes stared into the infinity of space. One can’t help but love that Ba’uu. The fourth one was in the house.

With extreme caution, she quietly opened the door. Her padded boots emitted no sound as she traversed from room to room.

He crouched near the fireplace. His arms embraced Watermelon’s money pack. She checked and discovered the bricks lying on the floor. She went to the table bench, straddled it, and faced him.

Fear contoured his face. “Krinna, I’ll take the money, and you can go free. I’ll tell the guild you are dead. You can live free and go anywhere.”

She looked at the four empty bowls sitting on the table. She checked the spider. It was also empty. “How do you know my name, and who are you?”

“Your guild god gave us your name. I am Rowel from the Northern Guild. I was there fifteen years ago when you worked with them.”

“You are not an assassin. You are a thief. I remember you. You tried to molest me when I was thirteen. You tried to steal my virtue, and now, you have eaten my food and attempted to steal money I safely keep. Do you carry a scar below your waist?”

“You have me confused with someone else. Listen to me. Walk away now, and you can be free.”

“Okay, Rowel, I’m mistaken. You can leave my money and go.”

“I can’t,” he whined, “The Ba’uu won’t let me pass.”

“I thought you were a real hard-nosed assassin. Can’t you kill it? No, I know a man who is friends with it. Surely, you can get past it,” she scolded as Gorga flexed her fangs.

“It will bite me.”

“Yesss, that is what they do best. Your three jobbers suffered a fatal kiss from Gorga. A pity they didn’t live long.”

“Rowel, my old acquaintance, I will do you a favor. Before she kisses you, you can give me the client's name and tell me where I can find them. Afterward, you can place my money on the table, and I’ll give you a five-minute start before Gorga goes after you.”

He spoke freely, seeing a way out of his dilemma and into wealth the guild would know nothing about. “I’ll tell you, but I keep the money.”

“Alright, it is yours; now talk. Make it good, or you don’t leave here alive.”

“The client is from Three Falls in the mountainous country east of Jasmine City, the capital. He is supposed to be a member of the royal court.”

“He has a name. Give it to me.”

“I’m not sure, but I heard the name Gala … something mentioned.”

Krinna thought about the name for several minutes and said, “Gorga, let him go.”

Rowel stood slowly to his feet as the serpent coiled and moved away from him. Cautiously, he stepped past it to the door. Quickly, he opened it, slammed it closed, and ran for his horses. He was rich. He could outrun it if he reached them before the snake was released. When the Brotherhood learned she had killed all their men, they would pursue her relentlessly. By then, he would be living well in another kingdom.

The weight of the bag slowed his pace. Unable to catch his breath, he crossed the road and started around a large tree when the shadow stepped before him. He stopped. Cold sweat poured down his face. He had to reach the horses. He drew a long, thin knife from his sleeve and held it at his side.

“Rowel, where are you going in such a hurry and carrying a heavy load?” a cold, stern voice shot out of the night.

He recognized the Hunter’s voice. He would know it anywhere. The Hunter was the highest-rated and deadliest assassin in six kingdoms, except for one other. Fear gripped his soul. Death stood before him. When the other three didn’t return, the Hunter would kill him.

Death slithered hard on his heels. He could ill afford to stand and banter with his murderer. He stepped forward and drove his blade up into the Hunter’s spleen. His knife stuck. Two long, curved arms wrapped around his chest, pinning his arm between them. They stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Let go of me, you fool. Let go, or we are both dead.” His struggle to escape became futile. He began to cry. Imminent death approached.

“There you are, Rowel.” Krinna’s mocking voice cut through his tortured mind. “Here, let me help you with your heavy burden.”

“It is mine,” he wailed.

“Now, now, don’t take it too hard. Rowel, shame on you; you hurt Gorga's feelings in your haste to depart. You didn’t offer her a by-your-leave, a fond farewell, or a plain old goodbye. She is put out with you. She expected a kiss. Gorga, you may kiss Rowel now.”

The scream died in his mouth as her fangs punctured his throat. Breaking the Hunter’s death grip, she removed the pack from Rowel’s dead shoulder. Placing the arm back around him, she said, “There is nothing like dying in the arms of one you love.”

“Gorga, we must find Watermelon Man. Do you want to ride in a saddle pack or crawl?” Rustling leaves and grass indicated that Gorga headed north. “Good answer, but I’ll take the horses.”