limply like a scarecrow’s. “Why must you be so stubborn?” said Filista, her face only inches away. “Can’t you see this is for your own good, for the good of the people?”
“I sssee the acts of a traitor,” Sha ntis said in common tongue, knowing no one would even understand her. “A coward who betraysss her own people, all for the sssake of personal gain. You ssspin the facts as a ssspider weaves a web, all ssso you look to be a sssavior. Sssave them? You’ve doomed our people.”
Filista just shook her head. “Even now, the devils’ language drips from your mouth like venom. Take her away.”
* * *
Large red flags hung from the rooftop, drooping low in the breezeless night air. Vivid and easy to spot even in the black of night, they clearly marked the private hut. No one was to enter here without permission, and most avoided it altogether. Guards patrolled the hut day and night; spears in hand, they watched attentively through their wicker helmets. Tonight there were two at the doorway, three others patrolling around the building.
The night had been uneventf ul as usual, but that was no excuse for growing complacent. Kelus’s orders were clear: protect the Shantie Rhoe...at all costs. The two at the doorway stood at attention, their spears locked together, crossed over the doorway. Their eyes remained focused straight ahead. The other three soldiers passed in front of their vision once again, continuing their march in an endless circle.
The moment the three disappeared around the corner, one of the door guards brought a hand up to his neck. The tiny jab felt like an in sect bite. The other ignored his partner, eyes still scanning across the plentiful bushes and trees. Nothing seemed out of place. A tiny sting at the side of his own neck made him jump. The two looked at each other, eyes wide, the fast-acting poison already working. A white-hot burning sensation moved through their necks, all the way down to their toes. Voices failed when they tried to call out for help. The sky began to twist and spin as consciousness left them. But instead of hitting the ground, they each fell into waiting arms and were quickly dragged into nearby bushes.
Eric sat up o n his bed. Not sure what had disturbed his sleep, he looked around the room. He detected no movement or any other evidence that something might be wrong. Of all your senses, trust your eyes the least , his father used to say. Your eyes are always in a state of overstimulation. They see what they want to see. If you really want to see the truth, don’t use them . “I remember, father,” he said out loud, then closed his eyes and began to focus, listening, feeling.
The same three soldiers came back around again. They marched along at a quick step. Very little time had passed since their last round. They glanced at the two guards standing at the doorway, their locked spears crossing the entrance and faces covered by wicker helmets. The two stared straight ahead, scanning the bushes and trees just as before. The three rounded the corner again without so much as a backward glance.
With perfect timing, the door guards uncrossed their spears as three shadowy figures streaked from the nearby bushes, allowing them quick entrance to the building. Once they silently darted inside and closed the door, the two imposters crossed their weapons again. There they stood, still as night, still staring out across the brush.
The room was dark, but it only took a moment to locate the bed. The sleeping figure hadn’t stirred, remaining motionless under the blanket. Two small darts zipped into the blanket. One of the assassins pointed to the bed, fingers flickering in silent speech. The other two lunged forward without hesitation, sharp steel flashing in each of their hands. Both blades sunk deep into the unconscious victim, followed by a spray of white feathers. They stared down at the covered pillows, eyes wide with panic. The decoy had worked perfectly.
The man
“I sssee the acts of a traitor,” Sha ntis said in common tongue, knowing no one would even understand her. “A coward who betraysss her own people, all for the sssake of personal gain. You ssspin the facts as a ssspider weaves a web, all ssso you look to be a sssavior. Sssave them? You’ve doomed our people.”
Filista just shook her head. “Even now, the devils’ language drips from your mouth like venom. Take her away.”
* * *
Large red flags hung from the rooftop, drooping low in the breezeless night air. Vivid and easy to spot even in the black of night, they clearly marked the private hut. No one was to enter here without permission, and most avoided it altogether. Guards patrolled the hut day and night; spears in hand, they watched attentively through their wicker helmets. Tonight there were two at the doorway, three others patrolling around the building.
The night had been uneventf ul as usual, but that was no excuse for growing complacent. Kelus’s orders were clear: protect the Shantie Rhoe...at all costs. The two at the doorway stood at attention, their spears locked together, crossed over the doorway. Their eyes remained focused straight ahead. The other three soldiers passed in front of their vision once again, continuing their march in an endless circle.
The moment the three disappeared around the corner, one of the door guards brought a hand up to his neck. The tiny jab felt like an in sect bite. The other ignored his partner, eyes still scanning across the plentiful bushes and trees. Nothing seemed out of place. A tiny sting at the side of his own neck made him jump. The two looked at each other, eyes wide, the fast-acting poison already working. A white-hot burning sensation moved through their necks, all the way down to their toes. Voices failed when they tried to call out for help. The sky began to twist and spin as consciousness left them. But instead of hitting the ground, they each fell into waiting arms and were quickly dragged into nearby bushes.
Eric sat up o n his bed. Not sure what had disturbed his sleep, he looked around the room. He detected no movement or any other evidence that something might be wrong. Of all your senses, trust your eyes the least , his father used to say. Your eyes are always in a state of overstimulation. They see what they want to see. If you really want to see the truth, don’t use them . “I remember, father,” he said out loud, then closed his eyes and began to focus, listening, feeling.
The same three soldiers came back around again. They marched along at a quick step. Very little time had passed since their last round. They glanced at the two guards standing at the doorway, their locked spears crossing the entrance and faces covered by wicker helmets. The two stared straight ahead, scanning the bushes and trees just as before. The three rounded the corner again without so much as a backward glance.
With perfect timing, the door guards uncrossed their spears as three shadowy figures streaked from the nearby bushes, allowing them quick entrance to the building. Once they silently darted inside and closed the door, the two imposters crossed their weapons again. There they stood, still as night, still staring out across the brush.
The room was dark, but it only took a moment to locate the bed. The sleeping figure hadn’t stirred, remaining motionless under the blanket. Two small darts zipped into the blanket. One of the assassins pointed to the bed, fingers flickering in silent speech. The other two lunged forward without hesitation, sharp steel flashing in each of their hands. Both blades sunk deep into the unconscious victim, followed by a spray of white feathers. They stared down at the covered pillows, eyes wide with panic. The decoy had worked perfectly.
The man
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