Hadjia took it all in, memorizing everything. This was her last chance to know something about them—and what she could have had.
Silently, Hadjia moved up the narrow, rickety staircase.
They'd moved her sister to her bed too, cleaning up her throat and placing a blanket on the floor on the spot where the blood had pooled when she died.
Hadjia stayed in the doorway to the room for several minutes.
What would we have been together?
But her sister didn't answer.
A small doll in the corner caught her eye; it rested next to a knife. Hadjia stepped toward it, crouching down. She picked up the knife with surprise; had she dropped it? When she tried to think back, everything was a black blur.
Pain and rage bubbled up inside her. She threw the knife at the wall with a growl. It stuck, embedding itself in the wooden slats with a twang.
The doll’s dress, made of light blue linen pieced together from scraps, hung off one shoulder. Hadjia picked the doll up, straightened its dress, and pressed a fingertip to its porcelain cheek. An image popped into her mind immediately: one of a young woman with dark hair and umber eyes.
The dark-haired woman had set the doll inside a wooden cradle with a squalling baby. The baby had its tiny hands bunched into fists as it wailed.
The vision shifted.
The same young woman held twin babies tucked into her arms, one on each side. Her hair fell down her shoulders in a loose braid with escaping black tendrils. Weariness was etched on her face, even though she was smiling. She was lovely, Hadjia thought in surprise. The young woman was lovely and radiated happiness, even when tired.
Each baby had the same shock of black hair. Similar scrunched, flushed faces. Both wore simple gowns of a soft blue linen.
Right then, the woman glanced up. She caught Hadjia's eyes, blinked, then smiled softly. With small steps, the woman advanced, shuffling forward with both babies in her arms.
Hadjia reached out, killing the woman with her knife and a fast slit of the throat.
The woman fell to the ground with a thud.
Hadjia didn't even have the time to breathe before a little girl approached her, put a cold hand on Hadjia's arm, leaned in, and whispered, "Assassin."
Blood oozed from the child's mouth, dripping down her throat and staining her teeth a horrifying crimson color.
Hadjia jerked away, screaming. The knife plummeted to the ground.
Hadjia jerked back to the present moment as she heard a thud.
Hadjia's racing heart slowed one beat at a time. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She cocked an ear. A slight sound, barely more than a breath, sent her stepping back until she was pressed against the wall. Hadjia reached for the knife in her boot, but it was already gone.
The door to the bedroom creaked open, revealing Kaneko. She slipped into the room, her eyes never leaving Hadjia's. "Ah, there you are, sister. We can fix this, Hadjia."
"Don't call me your sister. And don't come any closer."
"I only wanted to let you talk with The Mother."
"The Mother wanted to kill me."
Kaneko tilted her head back and laughed, but her glittering eyes never left Hadjia's. "You imagine such things! The Mother may have been angry, but she wouldn't have killed you. You're one of the best."
"She killed Kim."
"Kim wasn't you. He didn’t have your talent, your skills."
"You're a liar," Hadjia hissed. "We both know The Mother would never permit me to live, not after I displayed such open rebellion and ran away. If she allows me to live, she'll have to fear outright rebellion from other children too. Besides, you can’t be my sister. You knew," Hadjia seethed. "You knew what The Mother was doing."
"What are you talking about?" Kaneko asked, sounding confused.
"We were killing innocent people!" Hadjia cried. "You knew, and you didn't tell me. You lied to me."
Kaneko dropped her gaze. "I know now, yes, but I didn't at the time of my test. To me, they were evil. Bad people that the Mother needed to rid the world of. I did what any loyal, trusting assassin should do: what they're told."
Hadjia straightened, pulling her shoulders back. "That's where we're different."
"What difference does it make, Hadjia?" Kaneko cried. "You're an assassin now, don't you see? You're even going to try to kill me!"
"You're not innocent," she snarled.
"No, but murder is in your blood. It's in my blood. It's what we do and who we are. Even if you run away, you will never escape that reality."
"I didn't know!"
"That doesn't change anything."
The two assassins stared each other down. Kaneko's jaw tightened.
"Our families abandoned us; that's what happened, Hadjia. Mother Sigunta took us in. She fed us. Cared for us. She did what they wouldn't do. They don't deserve us, Hadjia."
"That's a lie. We're monsters, Kaneko. Don't you see that? Only a beast would spill the blood of its own family. We were betrayed, Kaneko. Mother Sigunta is using us as instruments for her vile ideas, whatever they are. Mother Sigunta lied to you, and still you're choosing to work with her. You're no better than she is."
Kaneko pressed her lips together tightly. "Hadjia, I'll ask you one last time. Come back with me."
Hadjia's mouth open and closed. She didn’t say anything, and the silence that hung in the air was damning silence.
"Hadjia, you can't prove it’s the truth. That’s why it's best to just come home."
"No. I'll never return."
Kaneko sighed, her shoulders slumping. "So, you leave me no choice."
"I know."
Kaneko attacked first, lunging across the room and landing the heel of her foot in Hadjia's ribs. There was the sound of a crack as Hadjia flew back into the wall, her head slamming into the wood.
She twisted her body away with a grunt and darted across the room. Kaneko advanced on her again but Hadjia ducked; Kaneko's knife missed its mark. Hadjia ran a few feet forward, grabbed up the blanket from the floor, and threw it at Kaneko's face. She had to bat it away, and her knife was momentarily entangled in the fabric. It was enough to buy Hadjia another chance.
Hadjia ran to the wall where her knife lay, embedded in the wood. Kaneko followed, kicking a knee out from under her. Hadjia dropped, ducked, and rolled away.
Then Hadjia leapt toward her like a tiger towards its prey. Kaneko ducked, kicked out a leg, and swept it in an upward arc. It caught Hadjia in the knee, knocking her onto her back. Hadjia sprang back into the air with a nimble leap just as Kaneko slammed a fist into her face.
White spots broke out across Hadjia's vision. There was a jarring sensation that rang through her head like a bell. Hadjia fell to the floor.
"Hadjia," Kaneko panted. "You've betrayed me." Kaneko pulled back her arm, ready to strike a death blow.
With lightning speed, Hadjia jumped up, grabbed onto Kaneko's wrist, and wrenched it to one side. Kaneko screamed and dropped her knife. Hadjia kicked Kaneko in the ribs just before Kaneko reared back and tackled Hadjia to the floor.
A bright white broke out across Hadjia's eyes when her head slammed into the ground. Kaneko's fist slammed with full force into Hadjia's face.
The edges of Hadjia's vision blurred. She reached up blindly with her legs to wrap Kaneko in a lock, but Kaneko dodged her weak attempt, slamming her fist into her face again.
Darkness descended once again; the pain slicing through Hadjia's bones rendered her almost paralyzed.
Kaneko knelt on one of her arms. The pressure nearly cracked her elbow.
Kaneko stood, giving Hadjia a moment of relief. She pressed a foot to Hadjia's neck with a snarl. Her chest heaved up and down in a pant. "You really . . . disappointed me, Hadjia."
A glint of light on the floor next to Kaneko's boot caught Hadjia's eye. The kunjar.
With the last of her strength, Hadjia reached her free arm out, grabbed the knife, and slashed it across Kaneko's leg. Kaneko fell to her
knees with a scream.
Hadjia slashed her again across her face. Kaneko shrieked, putting one hand over her eye. Blood oozed out from between her fingers.
Hadjia threw herself on top of Kaneko with a growl.
"Do it," Kaneko hissed, blood flowing from her shredded lip as Hadjia pressed her forearm into Kaneko's neck. "Kill me like you killed them. Spilling my blood is no different than that spilling that of your family's, is it?"
Fire streaked through Hadjia's veins, igniting every instinct Mother Sigunta had trained into her. Yet Kaneko's eyes, half-pleading, half-ordering, brought Hadjia back to reality.
She released Kaneko’s neck. "No." Hadjia stood up.
"You're no assassin, Hadjia,” she hissed.
Hadjia glanced down at her dismissively. "I know."
She stepped away and rushed to the window, throwing it open. After one last glance over her shoulder, she dropped Kaneko's kunjar on the floor. She drew in another breath and dropped out into the night.
Leaves and trees dotted her path as she sped along, but this time the leaves seemed to be hurrying her along, as if whispering to her, “Run, run, run to your only chance at freedom!”
A full moon – crimson, the color of blood – guided Hadjia as she ran away from the swamp. Behind her, a scream of rage and warning tore through the air.
"Hadjia," Kaneko cried. "I will find you!"
Isao
In the early morning light, a gentle fog hung throughout the Okuna Glade.
Wisps of fog snaked through the trees and undergrowth, causing dew to cling to the strands of grass. A soft pink glow started in the sky as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the world.
Isao sat on the wet ground, his face contorted in concentration as he held Khalem's sharp knife in one hand, a blunted, thick stick in the other.. He would finish. He had to. He didn't know why, but it was important that he give Celty something before the group split up upon departing the campsite.
With enough carving and careful work, he'd managed to create a sort of heavy cudgel that she could carry. Ragged cuts in the end would at least bruise – or, with any luck, maim —any poor creature or soul that attempted to attack someone like her.
His lips twitched in hidden amusement.
Perhaps Ranbelt was right. Maybe Celty was a tiger girl.
At any rate, she could use it to protect herself on her journey to Mahel Island. It was better than having no weapon, and he felt better picturing her with it. The idea of her venturing into the great unknown alone, unprotected – without him, really – made his skin crawl.
But she was no slave. He could and would not make decisions for her. At least he felt some modicum of comfort in knowing that she was free from slavery now.
He turned all his attention back to the task at hand, hoping it would take all his attention so he didn’t focus on the fears and worries filling his mind. Then, in what felt like seconds later but might have been a long stretch of time, Celty returned from filling their pouches at the stream.
She stood at the edge of their little camp, her hair fluttering in the breeze. Dirt was smudged on her face and chin. She looked like a wild thing: unkempt, and unapologetic despite being so.
Isao noticed she'd taken some of long, slender leaves and folded them into a small kind of envelope. A dark juice leaked out from the bottom of this pouch. No doubt, berries were outside.
Isao frowned and gestured to the pouch. "How did you know how to do that?"
"I've lived outdoors on my own before. Remember? The farmers found me. Slaves rarely get quarters, Isao, so I know how to live off the land."
When her gaze dropped to the weapon in his hand, Isao's face blossomed with heat. He stood up, setting Khalem's knife aside, and held the cudgel out for her. "For you."
Her eyes widened. "Me?"
"Yes. You'll need something to protect you while you travel."
She blinked, then swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, I suppose I will."
"And here is some food," Ranbelt said, approaching. He extended the leather bag that Rhaeneis had given the group, a crooked smile on his face. Celty opened her mouth to refuse, but he shoved it into her hands. "I know that you can and will hunt, but this will get you through until then. It’s just to get your journey started on a successful note, tiger girl. You have plenty of time to prove yourself along the way, don't worry."
Celty managed a weak smile and finally slung the bag over her right shoulder, along with her water pouch.
Khalem stepped up from behind her. He held out a clenched fist in front of him, then motioned to it with a tilt of his head. "It’s a wish for good luck. A sort of token from the warrior's code. Warriors don't say farewell. That’s bad luck."
Celty smiled then, holding up her own fist. Both of their arms fell back to their sides as she turned to face Isao again.
"I hope you find what you're looking for," he murmured, drawing in a deep breath. "And that you are able to do it safely. I will miss you. Traveling with someone as courageous as you has been an honor. But it's time for you to see the world, and find your own place in it. I am happy for your freedom, and proud of you for going out to meet it so bravely."
"No more slaves?" she requested in a gentle but serious tone.
Isao smiled softly. "No. I will keep my promise and make the Empire better. No more slaves. No more abuse. I will create a unified reign with equality. I promise you, Celty, that I will fight for it."
A fleeting expression crossed her face, half wistful, half mournful. She murmured, "Thank you," to Isao, so soft that Ranbelt and Khalem couldn't hear it, then angled her body to face all of them. "Thank you for being . . . for being so humane with me. Amongst you, I am not a slave."
With that, she stepped back, swung around, and started off toward the distant blue horizon. The group watched her depart as one, watching as her figure shrunk the farther off she got. Then, when she was far off in the distance, she stopped and lifted up her nose. She stayed that way for a moment, sniffing the air. Finally, she shook her head and moved on without turning back.
Ranbelt picked up his mandolin and began to strum. Low chords rose from it, swelling in a melancholy song that matched the somber mood of the group.
A little piece of Isao's chest seemed to crumble away when he lost total sight of her. Although he hadn't known Celty for very long, she had become a close friend. Their lives had no similarities, but nonetheless, Isao held her in deep affection. He'd never met anyone like her.
"Well," Khalem said when Celty disappeared around a corner in the path. "She wasn't so bad, I suppose."
Isao snorted. "You didn't want her to come from the very beginning. Now you think she's all right?"
"Distance makes the heart grow more affectionate, you know," he quipped.
Ranbelt continued strumming the melancholy tune until his fingers seemed to run out of energy. Finally, he brought the mandolin down to his side, his arms hanging loose. "Well," he said quietly, "good travels to the tiger girl. And now, we must be on our own adventures."
Isao opened his mouth to ask Ranbelt how long it would take them to reach Havin when a flicker of movement caught his gaze. He whirled around just as Khalem let out a guttural shout. A man dressed in black was only a few feet away grappling with Khalem.
Both fell to the ground, into a thick tangle of grasses. A long, curved bone knife flashed in between them as they rolled, one on top of the other.
"Khalem!" Isao cried.
"My Sheng, RUN!" the general hollered.
Ranbelt grabbed Isao by the arm. "Listen to him! We must go!"
"No!"
But Ranbelt, surprisingly strong for such a lithe man, jerked Isao away from the man in the grass, shoving him toward the far end of the glade.
Just then, Khalem broke free of his attacker. He surged to his feet and stared at the intruder with flared nostrils and a threatening expression. The two scrutinized each other until Ranbelt let loose another cry.
"THERE!"
A woman stood on the opposite side of the small meadow, her body blocking the footpath they were planning to take. Black robes fluttered around her thin body as her long ebony hair drifted in a gentle breeze across her face, nearly obscuring her vision.
And in that instant, Isao knew. His stomach churned with disbelief and fear. Something about these two intruders wasn't right. Their mannerisms were too still, their expressions too neutral. And the man; he had scars crossing his eyes. Was he blind? If so, how did he know where to charge Khalem? A shudder went all the way up Isao's spine
"Me," he murmured to Ranbelt. "They're here to kill me and Khalem. They're assassins. I'm certain of it. "
Ranbelt opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again.
The woman moved, placing a bone ocarina on her lips. Seconds later, the instrument hissed like a snake into the air.
The sound coiled in Isao's head, wrapping around his brain. He put his hands to his ears and let out a cry. He stumbled back as his surroundings tilted. Everything seemed to fall upside down, including him. Next to him, Ranbelt pitched to the side. Khalem let out a guttural cry.
Isao forcibly pried his eyes open, attempting to find something stable, something not wheeling around him like a ship in an ocean storm
Not far away, the woman stood still as death, the instrument at her lips. Still hissing. Still controlling his brain.
"Air magic!" Ranbelt screamed. "They're using magic!"
The man advanced toward Khalem again, clenching his knife made of bone. The woman unsheathed a knife from a belt at her waist, the ocarina still dangling between her pursed lips. Without a word, she closed in on Isao.
Khalem screamed, "Stay close to one other! Keep your backs to each other."
Somehow, Isao managed to right himself and back up to Ranbelt. Khalem struggled forward and made it to their sides, throwing his sword up high just as the man with the curved sword advancing on him dropped his toward Khalem. The two weapons clashed. Khalem fell under the force of the blow, toppling to the ground.
Isao drew his jiang, still staggering in this moving world. Next to him, Ranbelt pulled out his hunting knife, and the two attempted to face the woman together.
Faces of Betrayal Page 28