by Aubrie Nixon
She would have been angry at the asinine man if she hadn’t been so exhausted. She had nothing to prove to him. She was the Lady of Death. She could gut him with her eyes closed. Well, perhaps not with her eyes closed. He was rather tall, muscular, and dangerous. Maybe she could do it when he was sleeping. She laughed at the thought.
“You should be careful, Sir Knight. You’re using too many words. I might actually learn something about you,” she said softly.
He sighed. “I do not wish to make friends. I am here for one thing. There is no reason to grow familiar with any of you. There is work to be done.”
“Yes, sir!” Sephera snickered. She arose and left the sullen knight underneath the shade of the cedar tree.
Everyone seemed absorbed in their tasks, so she grabbed her bag and yelled out a hurried “going to wash up” as she headed into the forest. She was familiar enough with the area to know that within a few minutes’ walk through the trees and brush was a small creek deep enough to swim and bathe in. It ran west to Lake Eyleen. In the morning they would pass through the last village near the lake and follow the sun until they arrived at the Mountains of Dreer. This would be their last night spent within the confines of the kingdom. Safety was an insubstantial thing—a state of mind more than anything. Was anyone or anything truly ever safe? What were people even trying to protect themselves from? Death? Sickness? Injury?
Death claimed all in the end. Why prolong the inevitable? Why seek the “safety” of walls? And the beings people sought protection from, were they simply seeking safety, too? She thought of the dark stag. It had been so peaceful until she injured it. Its attack had been a sort of self-defense. Yet its blood held a deadly plague. Kill or be killed. What was the point of it all? Perhaps she should stop trying to help the world. Allow death take her whenever it came, leaving the world to its fate. Let death reap this world and save it from itself.
Such dark thoughts for someone so young, said a familiar voice inside of her head.
Sephera stopped dead in her tracks. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings.
“Get out of my head!” she screamed.
Sephera, my dear, you let me in. Your thoughts have been elsewhere. So distracted. I know Baleem taught you better than that.
“Show yourself, woman!” she demanded. She scanned the dark woods, looking for any sign of movement. She unsheathed her weapons and stood ready for a fight. Then her body was seized by a sudden pressure. She couldn’t move. It had been four years since she had heard that voice and felt this magic. Four years since she had seen her.
My dear, are we not past this sort of introduction? Tsk, tsk.
She fought as her lungs emptied of air. Finally, she succumbed and fell to the ground. The last thing she saw before her world turned black was a tall figure wearing a crimson dress.
CHAPTER 8
She was taken back to her childhood. She was a young girl—short for her age but able to compensate for it with her wit and skill. Baleem was much harder on her then, working her to the bone with training exercises, pointless chores, and lessons. Even then she never saw it as punishment or cruelty, just life. When other children outside the walls of the Keep were playing and going home to loving mothers and fathers, she had been learning to dissect animals to get the best parts of the meat and marrow. She had learned how to keep the skins intact for leathers. She’d also learned the best ways to disable a man with her bare hands. She could make a weapon out of just about anything.
By the age of twelve, Sephera had suffered eighteen broken bones, ten fractures, and countless stitches. She could speak several languages and could describe any of Nostarra’s plants and list all of their properties. She was smart, spirited, and lethal. She was given her first mission when she was fifteen: track and follow a fellow assassin who had retired from the Keep the previous year.
Baleem had assigned someone to follow the man the day he’d left the Keep. He’d soon learned of the man’s treachery. Baleem was a kind, patient man, but one thing he would not tolerate was betrayal. It was difficult to fathom why anyone would betray the old master. Perhaps it was money, power, the promise of protection, blackmail. Whatever the reason, they always got caught, and they always died . . . eventually. Baleem took pride in his work. When a mark needed to be punished, he did not give them a quick death. Baleem did not believe in granting mercy to those who had wronged him.
To say she was excited about the mission was an understatement. She was young, naïve, and unaware of what the taking of a life would do to her. She was excited to use her skills and earn the respect of Baleem. He was the closest thing she had to family, and she wanted to please him.
She had been tracking the old assassin for two weeks. He had been in the City of Light, not far from her home. He was living such a commonplace life now. He’d walked from the inn he was staying at in the Heights to a bookstore a few streets away. Then he had gone for tea at a cafe on the corner and walked back. For two weeks he’d kept this same schedule, doing nothing out of the ordinary. Sephera had begun to wonder if the man had done anything wrong at all.
She followed the man to the cafe and sat at a table at the bakery across the street. She munched on her cinnacake and sighed as the man ordered the same thing he always did. She was about to go sit next to him and gut him right there when a woman with a tall neck and huge nose sat down at the table next to the man. She subtly passed him something, and he pocketed it. He took another sip of his tea, tossed some coins on the table, and left.
She moved to follow him, but the tall woman turned and stared at her. Sephera felt her body go completely still. She couldn’t move. She tried to breathe, but it was like sucking in water. She began to get dizzy, and her vision blurred. She could barely make out the pale figure of the woman sitting across the street from her.
The woman arose and approached her. “In thirty seconds you will pass out from lack of oxygen. I am going to release you from this hold because I need you conscious and alive. I do not wish to kill you, but if you attempt to run or kill me, I will not hesitate to do so.”
She felt her lungs fill with air, and she gasped in relief. She was embarrassed at her weakness. Her limbs felt heavy as the feeling in them began to return. Her vision cleared until she could see the woman again. Her long neck and nose made her look a bit like a crane. Her red hair was drawn into a tight bun, pulling back the skin over her cheekbones and hollowing out her face. Yet she had a strange sort of beauty about her, full of power and mystery.
“Every day you come to this bakery for a cake and follow that man. For one of Baleem’s people, you are very sloppy.”
Sephera hunched down, taking on the identity of a scared teenager. “I am not sure what you are talking about. I am very frightened. Please, madam. I need to get home to my mum. She will be worried!” Sephera hoped the woman would believe her.
“Do not insult me by lying, Sephera. I have known who you are for quite some time.”
“I—I don’t know what you are talking about,” she choked
“Of course not. Just let me do the talking,” the woman said tightly. “I am Valessa, Keeper of the Light Tower. Baleem is an old friend of mine, and I assume from your shoddy job at following that man that this is your first mission.” She paused. “That man is not the traitor Baleem is looking for. I know with certainty that you could have killed him. I do not doubt your skill in dealing death. But I do know that your first kill is one you will always remember. It changes you. The murder of an innocent man is not one you want to have on your hands.”
“Baal is never wrong. He wouldn’t kill his one of his own if there was not a good reason.”
“You are correct. Baleem does not kill innocents. But the information he received was incorrect. There is a traitor in his midst. Unfortunately for him, it is someone still under his employ.”
“So this traitor gave him bad information? Why?” she asked the woman in disbelief.
“You are young, not stupid. There are a million reasons why they might have done this. The reason does not matter. What does matter is that the crime that man is being accused of is false. I warned him to get out of the city and disappear. You can tell Baleem you were successful and that your mark was killed. Or, you can tell him you failed and that there is a traitor in his midst. Pray tell, which one do you think he will believe?”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. You should, however, trust your gut. Trust what you know and feel to be true.” The woman looked at her intently.
“Who betrayed him?” she asked quietly.
“I know many things but this I do not know. I have spies everywhere, and eventually the truth will come out. It always does. I only hope it does not come at too great of a cost,” the Keeper said sadly.
Sephera looked into the woman's eyes. She had always felt drawn to people’s eyes. Feelings could be easily hidden from the face. But the eyes told Sephera what she needed to know. The woman's emerald eyes were filled with desperate urgency. The soul behind those eyes was far older than her chronological age. They told a story of triumph but also pain and sadness. Somehow, she knew the woman was telling the truth.
“How do you know Baleem?” she asked suddenly.
The woman shifted uncomfortably and smiled sadly. “He is a very old friend of mine. I have not seen him in many years. But I try to look out for him when I can.”
“Or when it suits your needs?” she retorted.
Valessa smirked. “Clever girl. Can they not go hand in hand?”
“I suppose so. Doesn’t anyone ever do anything out of the goodness of their hearts?”
“If they did, we would all be poor or dead.”
They stared at each other for a few minutes, silent.
“There are many things you are ignorant of. I know you want to please your master, to prove yourself. And you will. But today is not that day. Things will be set into motion soon enough, and when they are, you will long for the days of simplicity.”
She stood and extended a hand to the young assassin.
“We will meet again, Sephera, but not for some time.” Sephera started in shock at the outstretched hand. She didn’t take it. Valessa raised an eyebrow and bowed her head in silent goodbye. Then she walked down the street and disappeared into the crowd of shoppers at the market.
When that day comes, you need to be ready. You will understand in time, dear. Valessa's voice echoed in her head.
The memory faded into darkness and another one started. As Valessa's voice filled her head once more, she realized it was not a memory. It was a message.
Things are falling into place, dear one. I told you to prepare. These next few weeks will be the hardest you have ever endured. But, if you persevere, if you live through this, everything will begin to make sense. I know you have questions, and I have answers. But first I need you to stop this plague. I need you to cure this land. You are the only one who can. I am sorry I cannot be of more help right now. Please, you must not give up. Trust in yourself and no one else. If you do not stop this, death and darkness will overtake everything. We will all die. You cannot fail.
She awoke with a start. Looking around, she realized she was still in the forest. It was dark. She hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes tight as tears started to build behind her lids. She was terrified—of their mission, of the confusing message from Valessa. Everything. She feared the plague was just the start of their troubles.
Then she laughed. It was a choked sort of sound, mixed with sobs, the kind of noise a madwoman would make. She stood up, putting her hands on her sides to try to dull the ache she had started to feel. Then her head began to spin. She cried out with frustration and collapsed back down.
“Darkness, death, it's impossible, all of it.”
She sat there a good five minutes, sobbing and laughing. She was surprised at the volume of emotions pouring through her, her lack of control. She continued to sit, head in her hands, her dark hair forming a fortress that shielded her from the outside world.
As she rocked back and forth, she breathed in and out slowly, thinking of the lake, how wonderful it would be to swim right now. She closed her eyes and willed herself to believe she was there, floating on her back, calm and peaceful. It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she looked up.
“Sephera, are you all right?” Zad whispered quietly. She nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. She stared up at her friend, her Zad. She was frightened, yes, but she had to do something. She hated the look of fear and concern in his eyes and would do anything to never see it there again.
“What happened, Seph? You’ve been gone for a few hours. After you didn’t return to camp, we got worried. We’ve been searching for you for over an hour.” We? She looked around and noticed Daegan leaning on a nearby tree, staring at them with an inscrutable expression. Zad held out his hand to her. She took it, not wanting to talk yet. She just wanted to get back to camp.
“I need sleep. We can talk tomorrow,” she croaked, walking past them and through the woods towards camp.
She heard Zad start to protest, and, as much as she wanted to give him the answers he sought, she was too tired to even know where to start. She ignored him and kept walking, though he stayed on her tail.
“Let her go. She has been through enough,” Daegan said quietly to Zad.
She arched her eyebrow, surprised by his uncharacteristic kindness. She wasn’t sure what to make of it and too tired to care.
CHAPTER 9
The sun began to kiss the sky, slowly peaking over the mountain top. She breathed in the cool air around her, keeping her eyes closed and focusing on the sounds of the world arising from its slumber. The warmth of the sun grazed her face, and she felt someone’s eyes upon her. She smiled softly, embracing her last few seconds of weightless freedom before she opened her eyes to face reality. She stretched her arms above her head and groaned. Her body ached with emotional exhaustion. She glanced over to the fire, where she saw Zad watching her intently. He smiled softly when he saw that she had awoken, and he motioned for her to join him.
Sighing, Sephera stood up, ready to face the music. Sitting next to him, she laid her head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers.
“You really did. You just left, and when you didn’t return . . . Sephera, I have never been that worried in my life. When we found you . . . I—I’ve never seen you act like that. What happened, Seph?” he asked fearfully.
“I believe the Lady of Death has finally realized that our mission won't be as easy as she first thought, or maybe she just realized she isn’t as good as she pretends to be,” Daegan said dryly.
Zad’s hand tightened around Sephera’s protectively. She shook him off and spun around to face Daegan, for once annoyed at him instead of angry.
“I was attacked,” she said narrowing her eyes into the best glare she could muster. “The last thing I remember was a voice, and then I felt cold, and, well, now we’re all here.”
She couldn’t tell them everything, not until she had more answers. She had a feeling some of her questions could be answered by Baal’s letter. She gasped. His letter!
“My bag! Where is it?” she asked, looking around frantically. “Did either of you retrieve it from the woods?”
“Bag? No. I’m sorry, Sephera, I haven’t seen your bag,” Zad said quickly. “I promise we will look for it, but can we focus on the fact that you were attacked in the woods?” He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how she could possibly be worried about a bag.
Her eyes flared, and she stood up angrily. “I need my bag.”
Zad sighed in frustration and walked away, trying to busy himself before Sephera hit him with the tantrum she was about to throw. She turned to face Daegan, whose eyes were full of amusement.
“You look like shit,” he said casually, peeling an apple wi
th a small dagger and popping a piece of it into his mouth.
She fought off a sudden feeling of embarrassment, knowing he was probably right. She could feel that her eyes were swollen and her face was caked with dirt.
“Where is my bag?” she bellowed.
He stared at her with an astute smirk on his face. Then his eyes narrowed.
“From what you described, there is a mage somewhere in those woods—one who left you for dead—and you want your bag?”
She glared at him, her lips pursed. Their gazes locked.
"I haven’t seen it. Sorry,” he said dryly.
She felt her heart stop. Her vision clouded, and she felt the world start to spin. Daegan stood up and steadied her, gripping her shoulders tightly.
“Easy now,” he whispered, his voice unusually gentle.
Sephera looked at him, her face pale.
“Did you need something in that bag, Sephera?”
The sound of her name on his lips should have thrown her off, but she was too worried about finding Baal’s letter. She closed her eyes and steadied her breath. She shrugged his hands off, perturbed that he was still touching her.
“Yes, it's important. Essential. We need to go look for it. Now!” she cried.
He just nodded and walked towards Zad to pass on the importance of finding her bag. She knew how ridiculous it all seemed to them. But she needed that letter.
When it was time to leave, Zad agreed to take the small detour to search for her bag. It would only cost them an hour, and they were getting an early start anyway. After readying the horses, she helped Brenner with the perimeter line and watched as he slowly wound up the wiring.
“Brenner, I have a question,” she said quietly.
The mage nodded, not looking up from his task. She wondered how much she could trust him, but she knew if anyone could help her understand what had happened in the woods, he could.
“You were raised in the Tower. Did you ever meet the Keeper?”
He kept his eyes down, acting as if he had not heard her.