We travel at night. A very dangerous game to play in any city of any kingdom. Night is where monsters lurk; whether they be man or beast. The festival ended in the dregs of night, an eerie silence envelopes the forest until the trees are the only living things among us. At least, I hope so. There's always something there.
That feeling of wrongness that settled in my stomach from earlier has now dug it's heels into my spine, slowing branching out to tug at my veins and heartstrings. I glance back to see Arman staring right at me. I scowl, whipping back around. The man gives me creepy chills every time I look at him. He's making me sick with anticipation to see him gone. But that shall pass when it does.
For now I watch the trees. I watch the way the trees sway. The stars. The little creatures that skitter under the fallen leaves. There are no birds. No usual sounds of the mockingbird echoing in every direction. Growing up in a small village near one of the forest boarders taught you one thing; birds are the first to escape danger.
I lean backward, the General's chest against my upper back. "Don't you think it's too silent?"
He glances around, his mask is still on but I can gauge his reactions just from his body language. He thinks the same. "I think...you're a little too close to me."
"Is it causing you to lose concentration General? I can always ride with someone else."
"As much as I would love that, rules are rules."
"And whose rules are they?"
He's silent but I don't have time to smile. Goosebumps trail along my arms and legs. Dread settles on my spine. "Something's wrong." I mutter. The General finally heeds my word, slowing the horse down to a gentle kilter.
"What're you talking about?"
"It's too silent. I know it is. I don't think we're the only ones here."
The General doesn't hesitate. His fist goes up in a ninety degree angle. We slow to a stop. I don't hear what he whispers to the others, maybe a command to scout the perimeter on muted feet. I sense that it's not my words he's triggered by, but he too feels something off. It's second nature for fighters to sense when an actual fight may be imminent. In a world of disloyalty and enemies, that sense is sharper than ever.
Although I need the General believing every lie that exits my mouth, this time—I do not pretend. I need to remember that if I go down, he goes down with me, and vice versa. My skin tingles with anticipation and dread, like pairs of eyes honing in on my every movement. There's nothing in the trees, the Guards return from their perimeter check. Arman is the last one to return, though I suspect why. He eyes me warily, but not enough to give the information I need. Instead, I glance to where he scouted.
"Untie me." I demand. The others cannot hear us as I lean against him, my mouth closer to his ear.
"I don't take orders from you."
"The last time you did, I saved your life. This is not a matter of question. I have many things I wish to speak to you about, and it cannot be done when I'm dead."
"Say it now then." His eyes narrow, a challenge spark in them. Now was not the time for challenges. There is a newfound wariness buried in their depths, and I did not have the time to analyse it before an arrow swishes by my ear and dives into the horse's side. She whinnies and falters, throwing us both off the left side, before she canters away. I lay on my side, watching the General frantically untie my rope.
"If you dare do anything stupid—"
"I think we're past the point of you thinking I'm not going to do anything smart either. You're in danger, General. And so am I." I see the seed I plant dig their roots quickly into his brain, his eyes scanning mine wildly. The information I must hold. How did I come about this at all. Why was it me? Why was it him? All questions he's itching to ask me once we get out of here alive. I see it awaken in him—temporary trust and determination. It'll do for now.
Another arrow flies just to the right of me, the wind suddenly picking up through the clearing of the trees. From the angle, it's clear it was shot from a height. I glance up, the shining tip of an arrow pointing straight at me. I roll quickly as another arrow snatches on my skirt. I get up, yelling for the others to check the higher ground. Use bows not swords. Use the trees as leverage, as cover. I grab a bow for myself, although none of them seem to mind. There are more arrows flying through the trees now. I mentally walk through the rules of the game Arman had warned me about that night. Rule number 3 clearly was not taken seriously. Solo-playing was a rule of the game. You are not allowed accomplices. I guess this person didn't quite get that memo.
I slam my back against a thicker trunk, looking over to see Rider, Arman and Turlock all doing the same. I can't see the General. Panic ensues me, just for the briefest moment. I look behind the tree, just an inch. One man is still on the earth's floor, an arrow pierced clean through his skull. I cringe, knocking my own. I turn, I shoot, I return for cover. From the way the arrows are hurdling at us, they're either going to run out soon, or there are more of them than expected. Their positions are becoming clearer by the second. A cry rings out, a snap of a branch, a thud. Even if I just graze them, that's good enough for me.
Arman does not wield a weapon, instead he catches my eyes, a warning evident in the upturn of his eyebrows. There's something else. Another arrow flies by, Rider is the second one to take a percher down. But something is wrong.
Why only one side of the trail? Why only perchers? Against a General? No, you'd need a bigger plan. Arrows pierce their armour like a knife cutting a tree. It would take a damn good amount of effort to kill them with their armour on, that is if the arrow doesn't pierce the veil on their masks first, killing them instantly. Their aims are off, they've already killed one. It could be a fluke. But something tells me it isn't.
The General makes an appearance behind the trunk nearest to my right, blending in behind a towering bushel. I don't fire any of my arrows again. They too, stop soon after.
Through the veil covering the General's face, I see confusion, as if the body language I've grown accustomed to is practically screaming the words he cannot say. I face front and pull my bow string taut. I can feel the Guards' stares envelope me. Knowing Rider, he'd probably think I'd turn and kill them.
I wait. I do not make a sound, and neither do they. The wind calms, and we stand in utter silence. It's useless getting the ones up in the trees. Higher is always an advantage. So I wait, because I know Rider and Turlock look back in vain. As soon as I hear a branch snap, I breathe. Ten heartbeats go by in a flash, my vision blurs at the edges, a narrow path with one true release edging my fingers to release, to let go. On the first glimpse of movement I see, I let the arrow sing with a sharp whip through the air, as palpable as an axe sinking into the flesh of its victim.
I run towards the sound, leaping over thickly veiled roots protruding like an obstacle course from the ground. I scan the area quickly. Not a single breathing thing moves again. I drop my bow. The others gather around me, staring down at the culprit who leads this failure of an assassination. My heart twists. She looks no older than nineteen. Trembling, an arm wrapped around the arrow sticking out of her leg. How tortuous it is for us to do an impossible mission alone. She may have cheated—using accomplices as a distraction—but here she lies, bleeding and irrevocably abandoned.
She peers up at me. Tears well in her eyes. For a minute I see myself—what it was like to live inside of my head. Alone. Terrified. Hurt. Lost.
"What's your name?" Rider is the first one to speak, kneeling down to examine her wound. He doesn't look at me. For him, it's like I'm not even here. Because I'm the one who helped them, when in truth, I was simply saving my own skin.
"Alyana." She whimpers as Riders hand examines the surrounding flesh.
"She needs medical."
"She tried to kill you." I say. The intrusive, assertive thought slips pass my lips. She was out to kill me.
"She needs medical." He repeats, this time firmer with absolutely no hint of emotion present in his voice. "She's still a person. Or do you decide who lives or dies as well?"
"Oh, like you do everyday? No, it's more complicated than that." He glances at me, and though I cannot see his face through his mask, the anger that radiates in waves is enough to send my blood cold.
The General re-ties my rope. Rider places a cloth around her wound. Arman lifts her and sets her onto the unwounded horse that somehow knew to come back after it's safety was promised. The General rides with her, off into the distance and towards his house. The rest of us venture to find the missing horses. When we do, I recall the way the General glanced at me before leaving. And I know I do not mistake it for anything more than a frightened human being.
Arman drags me into the east wing guest bedroom before I can even say a word.
"You said no accomplices! You said no cheating!" I whisper loud enough for it to be a scream in the silence of the empty room. "She's only a year younger than me, you asshole. She looks like she doesn't even know how to fight."
"Her name is Lia Dolman. She's one of the newest recruits. Didn't receive a first mission. This was it for her."
I push against his chest. He doesn't budge. His face is stone cold, and emotionless. My anger tips over.
"All of you are fucking psychopaths waiting to see your eternity in hell. This is not a game, this is torture. Mental, physical, emotional torture. And you are responsible for it!"
Not a word of enlightenment. Instead, he says, "She will be executed tomorrow. As are the rules of the game."
I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to take his face and smash it against concrete until he stops moving. She had no formulated plan. No means of escaping. A faulty misstep, a choice to cheat. She didn't care about losing or winning. She didn't want to be here. I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me. She knew she didn't stand a chance.
"You aren't going to kill her. Imprison her for treason, sentence her to a lifetime in prison. She is afraid to die." I say quietly, my strength suddenly waning. Sleep, I think, would come easier than any sentence I can conjure right now.
"Then someone else inside the Rig will have to do it for you. Or, someone will cut her chord tonight. Either way, she'll be dead before the Rig even decides her sentence." Arman takes a step forward. I do not move. Instead I look him straight in his eyes, allowing him to see the fire that is begging to be released upon his fragile, weak soul. "If you don't follow, Skye, we both die. Do you want that? Would you rather protect a girl you don't know, or yourself? What about Kat?"
I still at the mention of her name. My mind shudders, almost like restarting automatically. As if I've been brainwashed to do what isn't wrong or right, but what I need to in order to see her face again. But I don't let him see my weakness. "You can take your bullshit game and shove it down your fucking throat." I don't wait to see his reaction. I head to the medical room.
I know Rider is in there with her. Daina, himself, and the General are the most equipped medical we have on site. Daina is a frantic, hyperactive ghost with gauzes and alcohol and something that looks sharp enough to cut a throat in half. I peek into the room. No one stops me. They look at me, half wondering why I did what I did. Half wondering why the hell was I attacked and not the General. But those weren't questions for them to ask. No, the General needed to know these answers.
"Where's the General. I need to speak with him." I ask one of the guards. His head tilts towards me, as if questioning my motive. So I say, "I'm not going to kill him dimwit. If I wanted to I wouldn't have saved his life. Twice. Tell me."
The guard gives in. The General is in his rooms, sat behind a desk with his head in his hands. Mountains of paperwork sit before him, as if long forgotten due to his ignorance for lack of a better word.
He looks up when I walk in. Not surprised at all. "Hello." He whispers, a tired expression overtaking his features.
"Tired of the attacks already General? I thought you had more than that in you." I saunter in, hands clasped behind my back. He stands, meeting me in the middle. I can't help but take in the way he's dressed; loose, long sleeved blouse, a pair of jogging trousers, and his hair which is tousled from his hands running through the usually neat strands.
"What do you want. I have things to see about. Not to mention, another person to take care of and see off to prison for an attempted murder."
"Yes, that's true. I'm here to finish our conversation from earlier."
"I'm not in the mood for small talk with the likes of you." He steps to move past me, heat and anger radiating off of him in waves. I guess I'd be angry too, with my life being played with for months on end.
"She didn't try to kill you." He stops right beside me. I turn my head, glancing up at him. The sharp twitch of his jaw and the curiosity gleaming in his eyes tells me he's willing to listen. For now. "Her name is Lia Dolman. She works for the same group as I did." He glances over at me by my use of past tense. His eyebrow cocks at my giving of this information.
"Are you finally willing to give me information?"
"I'm not doing it for your benefit Red. Just know that." I take a walk around the room, examining for cracks and hidden passageways while I'm here. I vaguely remember Kat showing me a layout of an old Royal's house. There were always traps and passageways and sealed doors as they had no need for conjoined bedrooms back then. I can't trust anyone in this household. I have no idea who could be listening. "I need you to listen to me carefully. This is bigger than just you. You're no longer the...only one so approachable."
"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes. Please, General. It's not hard to read in-between the lines. He turns to scan my face, any reason to call me a liar and kick me out of the room.
"Tell me why, on the day I sneaked in, your guards were scarce." I obviously knew why, Arman told me. But I wanted him to figure it out for himself, without the words leaving my lips.
"Why should I? It's not like I can fully trust you."
"What exactly am I going to do with this information? I've been cut off, there's no chance any of my old pals can contact me from inside this fortress."
He inspects me; eyes narrowing and widening and truly curious. He doesn't trust me, but he knows I'm right. He doesn't want to convince himself otherwise. "We received a signal of a criminal attack on a close village. A number of them. I sent some of my men to handle it."
"Don't you think it's convenient that it happened the night I snuck in? Completely undectable?"
His eyebrows furrow, "Don't tell me you were the source of that signal."
"I wasn't, and you know it."
I stare at him. I wish I can just tell him what's happening. But I can't risk it. I don't know if there are others among his Guard. I don't know if this place is safe.
"Are you saying that one of my Guards—"
I slap my hand over his mouth, eyes crazed. He looks at me if I'm covered in every germ possible, but he doesn't move my hand. Instead he muffles an incoherent sentence. Something about asking me if I want my hand cut off.
"Do you not know how to speak in code, you oaf?" I whisper. I look around at the empty space. At the door. The light under the crack doesn't shift or flicker. But that doesn't make me any more unnerved. "Look, General. I know you don't trust me but my life is in danger too. I can't tell you all the details now, not here. But for now I can say your safe. You're safe for now but not for long." I wait for his response. His hard, hot breaths on my hand does nothing to expose his thoughts. His eyes are clear, assessing and wild. I notion to my hand, secretly telling him I'm taking it off. He doesn't say a word. Instead he looks at me as if I've just exited the Rig's most secured asylum.
"Who." A command. Not a question. He looks almost as scared as I feel, although my mask is thicker and more solidified as I've been taught.
"I don't know who's listening. These walls aren't as thick as they seem. I cannot tell you. Please, General. I need—"
A knock at the door makes me jump. He wastes no time to step in front of me. And in that moment—by some unknown otherworldly miracle—I know that some part of him is on my side.
"Yes?" His voice is strong, his face returns to the polite, charming look he has around his most trusted soldiers.
"It's Kay, sir." My blood runs cold. My breath stills. No, he couldn't have heard anything. He was on the other side of the house. I heard his name being called when I stalked off to the medical room. No he— "The girl is awake. She wishes to speak with...well the other girl."
On instinct, I grip the back of his shirt, my ears honing in on the hand on the doorknob. A beat of silence. If the General says something to reveal my presence, they'd stop at nothing to make sure today is my last. I know them too well to hope on this.
"She's in the gardens. I'll be out in a minute to check the girl. Thank you, Kay." It's not until Arman gives the signal of exit that I inhale and exhale. A little too fast. My heart jumps. Why...why do I feel this way. I usually have my emotions, my thoughts, under control. I can't slip, not now. I won't let him intimidate me. I can't. No, they will fear what I can do before the next man falls.
"I have things to do. We will speak about this when my schedule is clear." The General proceeds to step outside, waits until the hallway is clear, and allows me to take the stairs down to the gardens. All the while, my brain is swarmed with thoughts and confusion. But also, pride. I'm one step closer to ridding my biggest obstacle, and Arman won't be able to corner me this time.