Faces of Betrayal

by Daniele Cella

  "Villagers."

  "Yes. We have to get out of here. Right now."

  "What about Hadjia?"

  "She'll be fine once we get her moving, trust me. She's one of the strongest students in the school. Help me carry her. They sound like they're almost to the door."

  Something jerked Hadjia to her feet. The waiting darkness covered her like a blanket, grabbing her from reality, and pulling her someplace where she could forget…everything.

  Hadjia woke slowly.

  Something soft was stroking her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

  A quiet voice murmured the same thing over and over to her. A chant, one that she'd heard the villagers chanting to their babies once.

  Was that her own mother calling her name? The soft voice. The gentle lilt. Her mother . . .

  "Hadjia?"

  Her eyes slowly fluttered open to see Kaneko. She was on the edge of Hadjia’s bed, a slight smile on her face.

  "You're awake."

  For a moment, Hadjia blinked, lost. Why was Kaneko there? Why did she smell the sharp acidic scent of vomit? And why –

  Suddenly she remembered. Everything.

  Family.

  Sister.

  Dead. All dead.

  Kaneko put a cool hand on her face, one that instantly quelled her panic.

  "Yes, yes. It was a long night for you. But all is well. You have completed the requirements, and will now go into your ceremony soon. Within an hour, you'll have a kunjar blade and be part of The Mother's most loyal group. Are you not pleased?"

  The tension in Hadjia's body doubled, then tripled, until she couldn't look into Kaneko's face any longer.

  Kaneko had killed that little girl. And she didn't have to: During Renji’s test, they had let the little girl go.

  Like a coiled cat, Hadjia sprung. She pounced on Kaneko, shoving her off the bed and sending them both rolling across the floor.

  "I don't want the knife! The ceremony. Mother Sigunta. I hate it all!" Hadjia wailed as she rolled over and over again.

  Kaneko didn't make a noise: They all had been trained to be silent when something took them by surprise. But she perpetuated their rolling motion until Hadjia lay on the floor beneath her, pinned to the floor by Kaneko's hand's.

  "Hadjia, calm down," she instructed quietly.

  "No!"

  "You must."

  The firmness of her tone brought Hadjia from giving in to any more of her unrestrained anger. She panted, weakening, and stared into Kaneko's dark, comforting eyes. "If we're really sisters, the way you've always claimed, then you'll go away with me."

  "Hadjia, take a breath. There's no reason to jump into doing something crazy before you find out all the information. Let’s discuss this. "

  But Hadjia had stopped listening. Again the thoughts in her head whirled around and around, one after the other, dragging her deeper and deeper into a chasm from which she feared she'd never escape.

  A vision of her blood sister gurgling as she bled to death replayed itself over and over in her mind.

  Hadjia clenched her hands into tight fists. "I will not stay, Kaneko."

  "You must."

  "I won't."

  Hadjia folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head back in defiance, daring Kaneko to counter her.

  Kaneko sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, but her face remained expressionless. "I understand."

  "You don't." Hadjia looked down at her hands, certain she could see blood slipping through her fingers and staining the skin it touched a hot crimson. Her family. That’s who they were. She knew it to be the truth; she was as certain of this as knowing the sun, the moon, and the stars appeared in the sky every day and night.

  Mother Sigunta was the exact monster that Hadjia hadn't dared believe she would be. Hadn't wanted to believe. And now her family lay dead.

  Hadjia's throat thickened. "I killed them, Kaneko. With my own hands."

  Kaneko reached out and touched Hadjia's shoulder. "I know. I was there. I've been through it as well. I had to kill my family as well, Hadjia."

  Hadjia shoved her arm off and stepped back.

  "I'm going to leave the school. Tonight. I must. There's no way I can stay here another moment."

  "Hadjia – "

  "I won't stay!"

  The finality in her words rang through the room like the chime of a bell.

  Kaneko hesitated, starting deep into Hadjia's eyes, then nodded once. "Very well. I see that you can't be convinced." She hesitated. "Perhaps you should go."

  For a long moment, Hadjia didn't dare breathe. "What?"

  "If you don't want to stay, why stay?"

  "You believe me? That I’m going to do it?"

  Kaneko's expression softened. "Of course. We're friends. No, we're sisters. We always have been. Thanks to Mother Sigunta, we're all each other has, aren't we? I've always promised that I would stick by you, and I'll keep that promise."

  "Yes."

  "Then we'll go. Tonight. Together. We'll escape from the school and plan a new life."

  Hadjia hesitated. Kaneko cared about Mother Sigunta as much as she had herself. Would it be so easy for Kaneko to let the world of the Red Moon School go? It had been Kaneko who convinced Hadjia to trust The Mother again when she felt so uncertain. Yet now the truth was as apparent as the blood that had covered Hadjia’s young hands: Mother Sigunta had been a murderer all along.

  Now Hadjia was a murderer as well.

  The fear that raged in Hadjia's chest began to settle. She exhaled a sigh of relief. She had a friend. Someone who believed her, and in her.

  "Thank you, Kaneko."

  Kaneko smiled with the corners of her lips. "Of course, Hadjia. We are here for each other. But I cannot just leave; The Mother watches me too closely. I need to prepare my room so she doesn't notice it's bare if she looks in." Kaneko nodded at Hadjia's bed behind them. "You should do the same. Pack lightly – only a few clothes, and your knife. Make it so you can strap it to your back: We'll be traveling and killing our food as well go."

  Hadjia stared at Kaneko in surprise. "You know where we'll go?"

  They knew so little of life outside the school and the woods surrounding swamp. Except for practicing their spying on a few villages here and there, most of the students had never left the school. But they couldn't go back to the villages—Mother Sigunta would look there first. Likely, she had spies who lived there anyway.

  Kaneko hesitated. "I have an idea. If it doesn't work out, we'll do something else." She backed up to the door, her eyes locked with Hadjia's. "We can do this together. It won't be easy, but perhaps it will be good to be free."

  "Together,” Hadjia said.

  The door slid shut behind Kaneko, leaving Hadjia alone with only her thoughts for company. She cast her gaze around the room. The floor was bare, and even the corners of the room were clean: Mother Sigunta never tolerated cobwebs or a speck of dirt.

  Nothing here had ever been warm. No dolls. No dinner where they discussed the day as a family. They never even talked with any neighbors, the way her real family might have had. Just ongoing, ruthless, relentless work, day after day after day.

  Something hot welled up in Hadjia's chest, and spilled into her throat. She swallowed it back and turned to her bed. She had to focus on the next step: packing. Running free.

  The fear in her chest subsided as she thought of Kaneko. A sister, she thought, rummaging through her simple wraps. I do have a sister after all, even if my real one is . . .

  Hadjia let that thought trail away.

  The door to her bedroom opened. Hadjia jerked to attention, an old shirt in her hand, until she saw it was Kaneko eyes. She relaxed. "You're back. That was so fast."

  Kaneko smiled. "Didn't take me long to get what I needed."

  Hadjia's heart leapt into her throat when two other boys – proven assassins just like Kaneko –stepped into the room behind her. Kura and Sidoh. They were another pair of Mother's favorites, known for their raw
strength and tenacity.

  Hadjia sucked in a sharp breath. Kaneko's smile, she now noticed, was a little too fixed, a little too tight.

  "Kaneko, n – "

  Both Kura and Sidoh lifted a tube up to their lips and blew into it. Seconds later, a sharp sensation stung Hadjia's neck in two places. She reached up to pull the darts away, but it was too late.

  A cold sensation crept up and down her neck. Kaneko widened her grin.

  "Oh, Hadjia," she murmured, stepping closer. "You poor little girl who thinks she knows better than the rest of us."

  A heady darkness overcame Hadjia, plunging her into thick clouds of unconsciousness.

  Numbness tingled in her spine, extended out into her limbs. She could just feel the tips of her fingers, her legs from the knees on down, and her bottom lip, but little else. She tried to move, but couldn't, as if something heavy weighed her down.

  She managed to open her eyes so that they were slits, but she was barely able to see through the thick tangle of her eyelashes. Slowly, the world came into focus: She was looking at a ceiling marked by long shadows and dim light.

  "I shall take it from here, thank you," The Mother rasped from what seemed to be a far away place.

  "Yes, Mother."

  "It was our pleasure to serve you, Mother."

  Three shadowy figures were standing near a door. That door…it was familiar.

  Only then did Hadjia realize she was lying in the Ceremony Hall.

  Memories of Kaneko, Kim, and a masked man flooded her mind all at once. She had no ability to contain the fear she now felt: It streaked through her in raw, unbridled waves.

  "Go into the far hall," The Mother said. "I shall call for you if you're needed."

  Hadjia immediately recognized the broad angles and cut of Kura and Sidoh's shoulders as the two slipped out into the hallway. Mother Sigunta remained, carrying her walking stick, as she usually did.

  Hadjia tried to pull herself together, to escape her fear and panic and just think. Mother Sigunta had trained her in this skill herself. What a sweet justice that Hadjia might be able to use it against her.

  The floorboard creaked beneath Mother Sigunta's weight as she crossed the floor toward Hadjia. Hadjia peeled her heavy eyelids open as far as she could, which was a little bit farther this time. Mother Sigunta came into sharp relief amongst the shadows of approaching evening. The windows behind Mother Sigunta showed a sky on fire with the sunset.

  "I am very disappointed, Hadjia."

  Hadjia attempted to mumble something, but she could not form any words. Mother Sigunta didn't seem to notice. Instead, she folded her hands behind her back and stared out the windows on the other side of the room.

  "An assassin is a highly trained person. Because of all we have sacrificed for the love of our trade, we must remain loyal and faithful to those who know more than us. I have asked much of you in your young life, Hadjia – but I have given you even more."

  Hadjia's nostrils flared, but she remained silent.

  "Your loyalty to me has wavered. I cannot tell you how this saddens me. It cannot be forgotten. Not until you've proven yourself to me again."

  Hadjia's foot jerked. It was a reaction, she knew, from the paralyzing agent, which she had used before on unsuspecting animals while attempting to learn its strength.

  Even though her movements were painstakingly slow, Hadjia managed to curl her fingers into her palm. Then she bent her elbow a little, as the paralysis began to fade. Mother Sigunta watched, her face impassive.

  "You are angry with me, Mother?" Hadjia whispered, uncertain whether Mother could understand her mumbled words.

  "Very."

  Hadjia dropped her gaze, but glanced to the windows. All closed except the one in the middle. A sliver of color along its edges betrayed that it lay slightly open whereas the others were tightly shut.

  "You have not only turned your back on me after all I've done for you, but on all those here who care for you. We have been your family. You have rejected us."

  "My family – "

  "Is here," she cut in with a chilly voice. "You make assumptions you know nothing about."

  Hadjia couldn't meet her eyes.

  All she could see was her little sister. Hear the dying words on her mother's lips. See the terror in her father's eyes. The Mother was not right: Hadjia didn't make assumptions about anything. Mother Sigunta had told her what to think and believe all her life, but she couldn't do that anymore. Mother Sigunta officially held no more power over Hadjia's mind.

  "Yes, Mother," she murmured in seeming capitulation.

  The paralyzing agent retreated quickly from her muscles now, leaving a strange tingling sensation in its wake, but restoring the movement into her muscles. Mother Sigunta motioned for her to stand. Hadjia obeyed with shaky feet, slowly straightening until she stood almost as tall as The Mother.

  Hadjia met Mother Sigunta's gaze head-on, seeing evil in the woman's eyes. There was no doubt about it anymore, even though some corner of Hadjia's heart had been hoping this couldn’t be true. But she could see in The Mother's ruthless, cold gaze that they had been killing innocent people all along, and The Mother knew. Counted on it. Lied about it.

  "Hadjia, you are one of my greatest pupils. Your talent and penchant for doing the work that no others are brave enough to do has no bounds. It pains me that you don't trust me and my word anymore. But I am willing to forgive because you have already proven yourself. You should be a Red Moon Assassin – and you are. If you’ll have us."

  Mother Sigunta extended a hand that shook slightly. Hadjia stared at it, then looked back to her. "What would you make me do to earn my place back?"

  "Time. Chores. A lot of one-on-one counseling with me. I don't want to reward you for what you've done, so what you will have to do for a time won't be pleasant. The truth is, you deserve far worse, but I am not willing to lose you."

  Hadjia swallowed, staring at the trembling hand with a lump in her throat but not taking it.

  Hadn't The Mother mentioned something like this to the masked man? Spoken of an outstanding pupil whom she wanted to test? She had been speaking about Hadjia all along.

  Mother Sigunta spread open both her arms now.

  "Come, Hadjia. Let us embrace and agree to move on to greater things. You are far safer here, with me, than in the wild world out there that you know nothing about."

  Kim’s death flashed through her mind with terrifying speed. Uncertainty and heartbreak bubbled up inside her, spilling from her chest into all her muscles.

  The Mother owned her no more.

  In a flash, she reached down, withdrew a knife from her boot, and advanced, raising her hand and slashing it down towards Mother Sigunta's neck. The Mother leaned back into an agile backbend, avoiding the blow. The Mother finished her move by swinging her legs over her head, landing on her feet, and straightening with a victorious smile.

  Hadjia sucked in a breath. No old woman should be able to manage such a move!

  Mother Sigunta tossed her walking stick into the air and griped it like a dagger. A snick preceded the sight of a knife flicking out from its bottom.

  Hadjia knew, with cold certainty, that she'd never win against The Mother. Despite Hadjia's apparent skills, Mother Sigunta was no frail old woman after all. There was a quick, sinewy strength in her that belied all reason.

  Hadjia spun around to run, but Mother Sigunta lashed out with her walking stick. The stick hit Hadjia in the calf, tripping her. Her body flew through the air until she lay sprawled on the wood floor. The air rushed out of her lungs in one giant breath.

  Mother Sigunta lifted her walking stick high. "You've made your decision, Hadjia. Now I have made mine."

  Hadjia thrust herself to her feet, crossed the room in three steps, and threw herself into the slightly open window. Two panes of glass shattered; one cracked. The old frame gave way, admitting Hadjia into the darkness of night – and her only chance at freedom.

  Hadjia scrambled thr
ough the forest as fast as her legs could carry her. Yet her body, still feeling the lingering effects of the paralyzing agent, was sluggish to respond at first.

  She stumbled over tree roots and rocks and smashed into branches until finally, she got her equilibrium back. Once her muscles and balance were restored, she tore swiftly through the forest, nimbly avoiding the heaviest areas of the swamp. But she was running blindly through the night.

  Nowhere to go, she thought in a panic. The Mother will find me. I have nowhere to go.

  As if demons from another world were reaching for her, Hadjia continued to run. Although she fled as quickly as she dared, at every moment she thought she felt Mother Sigunta's breath on the back of her neck.

  Minutes passed. Tens of minutes passed as she ran, searching for something – she didn't know what – in the midst of the trees and the shadows.

  Finally her running feet slowed. She gasped for air as her ribs ached. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  A building just ahead of her loomed out of the darkness, the sight of it nearly arresting her breath.

  Her home.

  Not the Red Moon School. Not Kaneko. Not the putrid swamp that made the world smell like rotten eggs. The home she would have had if Mother Sigunta hadn't taken her. The home she could have had if she hadn't . . .

  Hadjia let the thought trail away.

  Drawn forward as if by invisible strings, Hadjia stepped into the house. None of the neighbors were here now; all had departed after finding the family murdered earlier.

  She slipped inside, silent as a shadow, and stared at the floor. Her mother was lying here now, along with her father.

  Instead of laying in the same spot outside, her father lay next to her mother on the floor. Someone had cleaned the blood off her mother's neck. Her father’s clothing had been tidied up, his hair combed; he looked as if he could have been sleeping.

  Hadjia swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. She was filled with a deep sadness that penetrated all the way into the marrow of her bones.

  The house seemed different to her now. Instead of barren, it seemed rich, filled with small knickknacks that signaled life. There were pieces of food. A doll. Cups, glasses, silverware carved from wood. Dishes, although many were broken now.