by J. Sselxuyt
Douglas recognizes the blade. I can see genuine fear cross his face as he backs away. I get a good look at his weapon and see that it’s the twin of Brooke’s wavy blue sword.
“You’re working for him then?” Douglas spits off to the side as he glares at us. “All this time. . . . And you end up doing his dirty work.” With his left hand, he reaches into his shirt and pulls something out. A round object about as big as my thumb is attached to a leather thong with a piece of wire. White and black lines swirl through the object, making it look as if the thing is made of liquid as the lines aren’t stationary. “I suppose this is what you’re after? You’ll have to peel it from my cold dead hands, if you can. Come Traitor; let’s see how good you are with your betrayer’s blade.”
I can see that the man’s words hurt Brooke, and I feel true anger rise up in me that he would treat someone I care deeply for in such a manner. Keeping Muramasa sheathed, I step in, trying to knock his enchanted blade aside.
A loud crack resounds and my blade goes flying, sheath and all. Screaming in sudden pain, I drop to my knees cradling my broken wrist. How did he move so fast?
“Hmph,” Douglas grunts derisively. “I thought I would have more to fear from Masamune’s twin. Come Traitor, and test your blade against mine. Let’s see how much you remember of my training.”
My world splits into two portions, one focused on my excruciating pain, and the other on Brooke. She’d said no one was better than this man. She’d made it clear who she thought the victor would be if it came to blows.
Now they were about to fight.
My mermaid lover draws her sword. I notice that there is no sound when it clears the sheath. The two watery blue blades face each other, mere inches separating their incredibly sharp blades. Neither one moves for a moment, eyes locked on their opponent. Having held Muramasa out, I know how hard it can be to hold a blade entirely steady, but theirs could be attached to statues, they’re so still.
Brooke takes a step to her right, and Douglas smoothly follows suite. The redhead now stands between Douglas and me. I realize she’s protecting me.
I stand up, wanting to help out however I can. “No, stay back,” Brooke says without breaking eye contact. “This isn’t a fight you can help with.” Her voice is flat and emotionless as she commands me to stay put.
I think to change into a dragon, but the pain in my wrist stops me from concentrating enough to do so.
“I’m glad to see you can keep your emotions in check, Traitor. At least all of my training wasn’t lost on you.” I know he’s only trying to egg her on with his taunts, but they’re striking home in me.
“You killed my parents, and tried to kill an innocent baby,” I say. “At least she actually has a heart that beats in her chest.”
“A heart?” the other man snarls, losing his temper slightly. “After I killed your mother, brat, and your father escaped from me, do you know what he did? He murdered my wife and two daughters while they slept. Don’t talk to me about a heart.”
Brooke uses the man’s outburst as a chance to attack. The two blades strike against each other, sending sparks flying. For tense moments, both combatants face off against each other, the blue metal of their blades creating a cacophony in the bright air, ending when Douglas shoves Brooke away from him. Once again they stop and stare at each other.
So, call me dense, but it’s only now that I realize the true import of everything that’d been said. Shemhazau is my father. He had escaped from Commander Douglas, and the assassin must have claimed he’d killed both my parents when he reported back. My old man is going to have a lot of explaining to do when I return.
“You killed his wife,” I continue talking, hoping to set the man off again and give Brooke another opening. “You tried to kill his child, me. Do you want me to feel guilty that you failed? Ha!” I laugh loudly, using the pain in my right wrist to fuel my voice. The man doesn’t even blink as I speak, and I realize I’m going to have to go with low blows to set him off again. “I hope your family screamed out your name when my father killed them. Does it haunt you at night, knowing that the last person to see them alive was the man you most despise?”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, and then has to concentrate on staying alive as Brooke presses the attack, bringing her blade in hard and fast. It’s barely deflected in time, but I still see a line of red open up on the man’s side.
“Maybe your wife offered to suck his cock to save your babies,” I continue, hating myself for speaking these words. I take no joy in what I’m saying, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help Brooke out. “Do you often wonder if he killed them quickly, or took his time? Or did he just kill them as you killed my mother, while she was screaming to save her child?”
Douglas’s temper finally seems to be completely under his control again as he only glares at Brooke. I open my mouth to continue, wracking my brain to come up with something even more vulgar to say, but Brooke interrupts me.
“Lyden, shut up.” Her words delivered without emotion make me obey more than anything else.
“At least you still have some honor,” Douglas states. I can tell he’s breathing heavier. Brooke by comparison is the essence of calm.
“I’m sorry you thought I was dead all these years,” she says to her opponent, her sword clanging as she knocks aside a thrust from him. “That was never my intent. I was a failure as an assassin, unable to complete my mission. I ran away, unable to bear the congratulations of my achievement, when I knew it was false.” As she talks in her flat tone, Brooke slowly begins to draw her blade back, switching hands and lifting it over her head, still pointing at her opponent. “I am truly sorry for your family. Melissa was always kind to me, and I always thought your daughters were cute.”
“Don’t speak her name, Traitor!” Douglas dashes forward and I watch in horror as my dearest friend and protector grabs his naked blade with her newly healed right hand and moves it only slightly, letting it sink into her gut, then holding it there with an iron grip. The tip of his blue steel pokes out her back, but Brooke doesn’t scream out in pain or even acknowledge the mortal wound. Quicker than my horrified eyes can follow, her left arm drops down and a second later the older man’s head is rolling across the ground.
My shock lasts only a second before I rush to her in time to catch my wounded lover with my wounded arm before she hits the ground. I grasp the other blade, but her grip on my arm is firm, stopping me. “Don’t pull it out. You’ll only make the wound worse.” She gasps, showing the pain she’s in for the first time. She looks at her right hand, and laughs for a moment, until the pain stops her. I follow her gaze, and see that her hand is unharmed. “He said that it would remain whole as long as . . . I was protecting you.” Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a slight smile. “A hundred and forty-two.” I look at her confused, no idea what she’s talking about. “That’s how . . . old I am.” Talking is obviously getting harder for her. Tears sting my eyes as I realize I’m about to lose her.
“Hold on,” I tell her. “I’m going to save you.” Frantically I start racking my brain, trying to come up with some way to reverse the damage to her stomach. There isn’t enough time to sleep and enter her mind. “Shemhazau!” I scream, hoping to get his attention. Maybe he can heal her. “Father, I need you! I can’t lose her. Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t let her die!”
Silence answers my call.
Brooke’s hand brushes my cheek as I look down at her. Her form is blurry through my tears, but I can make out a wistful smile on her lips.
“I love you, Lyden.” She shudders and coughs before she can continue. “You need . . . to get the talisman . . . to Shemhazau. It’s . . . too late for me.”
She goes limp in my arms. It feels like my entire life shatters with her passing. Memories of growing up, of always having her there as a constant companion, flood my mind, overwhelming my senses. I remember becoming interested in women, and crushing hard on the older redhead. I remember her s
howing up to my high school graduation, and all my other friends being jealous that she was there for me. When I’d scraped my knee trying to show off by doing a trick on my pedal bike, she’d been there to comfort me. I also remember finding her in that prison cell in Atlantis, wounded and hurt. The look on her face when I’d broken free of my restraints in TanaVesta’s chamber. So many memories, and yet they seem to flit through my mind with barely a moment’s hesitation. Each one runs through my mind, too fast to grab a hold of and cherish.
Heart breaking, I bend over the form that had once been Brooke, the redheaded mermaid assassin, that had also been my savior as a child, and plant a soft kiss against her immobile lips.
“I love you, too, Brooke. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” A new wave of grief washes over me, and I press my lips more firmly against hers, trying to impart everything I feel for her in this one action.
* * * *
A hand on my shoulder tries to wake me, but I refuse to give it any attention. Why won’t they leave me alone in my grief? Isn’t it enough for them that I returned with the talisman, and augmented my curse? All I want to do is sleep, to forget my pain. Who cares what happens with the two worlds anymore? Brooke, MY Brooke has been taken away from me. Nothing else even matters.
“Lyden?”
Sometimes I even imagine I can still hear her voice. So soft and sweet, yet with a strength beneath it that belies her past.
“Lyden, wake up. We need to be going.”
I roll away from the voice. Whatever bad guy it is this time, can have me.
“Dammit Lyden, I don’t know what you did, but I’m not strong enough to carry you out of here.” The imaginary voice of Brooke is becoming more insistent. “I didn’t kill my mentor just to let you stay out here and waste away.”
Annoyed, I turn and look at the speaker.
And have to do a double take.
“Brooke?!?” I demand, looking into those familiar green eyes.
“I don’t know how you did it, but I woke up with a killer stomach ache a few moments ago.” She points to the bloodstained tear in her clothes, and I can just make out pink puckered flesh beneath.
“But, how?” I ask, still confused.
“I don’t know,” she repeats. “I was hoping you could tell me.” She looks past me, and I see her eyes grow large. Spinning around, I quickly get to my feet, and then have to take a moment to catch my balance as the world tries to go black. I stood up too fast. “Lyden, I can’t. . . .” Brooke’s fear filled tone allows me to focus and my vision clears.
Two gangly yellowish creatures are slowly. . . . I don’t know what to call their motion. Two long arms, each with two elbows and two stubby legs, attach to short but muscular bodies. The things’ movements are a cross between shuffling, crawling, and sliding over the ground. The creepiest part is that they have no head, just a mouth full of yellow sharp teeth between their shoulder blades.
My entire body aches as I bend over and pick up Douglas’s blade in my left hand. My other hand is still useless. Muramasa has returned to my hip, but I don’t dare use that sword. I see Brooke pick up the leather thong with the talisman attached, and place the blood soaked necklace about her neck.
“There’s already been enough death today,” I tell the two things, hoping they at least have ears to hear me. They continue coming closer. “What are they?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke replies. Her left hand is over the scar of her wounded stomach, and her assassin’s blade sits lightly in her right hand.
Leaning on each other, we begin to back away, placing our backs against the building. A sound to my left draws my attention. I see two more of the creatures coming at us from that direction.
“Lyden,” Brooke’s voice is full of worry.
“Lemme guess,” I say sardonically. “There are two more coming from the other side.”
“I wish,” she mutters, mimicking my tone. “There are four.”
I open my mouth to swear, and stop myself. Muramasa isn’t influencing me right now, and there’s no reason to act otherwise.
Muramasa. . . . With him in my hands, I could protect us from all eight of the monsters.
And probably lose my identity in the process.
Why can’t I catch a break? I mentally demand of no one in particular. Sometimes I miss those times when Sheila would yell at me to get back to my reports.
“Come on! Let’s get those fucking fuckers!” I hear a female shout a moment before the blast of a shotgun knocks one of the beasts in front of us over. A moment later, a rifle and pistol report in, and the second thing goes down.
“What took you so long, Jennifer?” I ask, trying to stifle a giggle. I know if I let it out right now, they’ll all think I’m mad. Heck, for that matter, I almost wonder if I am half crazed. How are they here?
“Eh, sorry doc,” she says imitating Bugs Bunny, “but we, eh, took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.”
“Between talking and flying dolphins, and ants that breathe fire, I’m not sure I’ll ever get another peaceful night’s rest,” Captain Jewkes states. “Or how I’m going to write this up in a report.”
“I’ve got a great psyche at the local VA,” Thomas says, shouldering his rifle.
“If you’re done chit-chatting,” Lisa yells out, “there are still a few more of those things around.” The athletic blonde swings her short sword, lopping off one of the over-long arms of the monstrosity she’s facing. Becky finishes it off a second later with a quick thrust of her blade through its chest. The two work perfectly together, their movements in sync.
The fallen monster’s companion rears up on its stubby back legs, towering over the two women by a good three feet, but topples forward a second later, and I see the hilt of Ondine’s dagger sticking out of its back.
I turn to face the four that Brooke had informed me of, but can only barely make out their back ends as they high tail it out of here.
* * * *
“So when the dolphin told us you needed help, we didn’t hesitate,” Thomas says as we sit around a small table in Douglas’s cabin. The old assassin had had the key to it on him, and while the space is cramped, we all feel a bit better with solid walls around us.
Sheila sets a bowl of some kind of stew in front of me, and then drops to her knees besides me and proceeds to spoon feed me. She’d fussed over my wrist, bandaging it, and worrying about how I’m going to defend myself with a busted appendage. AnnaBelle and her had remained back during the fighting, only coming forward when the all clear was given.
“So your succubus and the fairy remained behind, while you went on this dangerous mission?” Jewkes asks me, and I nod in response as I chew some kind of meat from the stew. “And you say that the person we came here to meet is actually your father, whom you thought has been dead all these years? Damn, your life is screwed up.” He looks around the room, his gaze lingering for a few moments on Sheila before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” I ask Sheila.
“A tavern maid learns all sorts of things, Master,” she smiles enigmatically as she brushes her fingers along the wrappings on my wrist.
“They do, indeed,” I smile down at her, remembering Marchosias’s fantasy world, and thinking that he ended up helping me out more than he’d intended.
“You should get some rest and help heal your friend, Master,” my slave continues, pulling me to my feet. She leads me over to the bed where Brooke is already asleep. The bed is small, barely big enough for the two of us, but soft and soon I’m out cold.
“What took you so long?” Brooke asks me, and I know I’m in our shared mind-space.
“Some of us didn’t get healed up as much after the battle as others did,” I say, holding up my right arm. Apparently my wounds aren’t reflected here as my wrist is fully functional.
She laughs lightly as she lifts the hem of her shirt and looks at her unblemished stomach.
“Awe,” I
moan disappointedly when she puts the shirt back down.
Her eyes sparkle as she grins at me before looking around at the blankness that makes up the atmosphere of the mindscape. “Do you ever find it odd that we find ourselves together in here, more than in the real world?”
That sobers me up. “Well, if you weren’t so fragile, maybe I wouldn’t have to heal you so often,” I try to say jokingly. I’m not sure it comes out as I’d intended.
“If you’d quit needing saving, maybe I could refrain from getting injured,” she shoots back, and I can see the sparkle return to her beautiful eyes.
I laugh, and she joins me as we come together and hug. I can’t help but wonder at the warmth that infuses my body as her arms wrap around my torso and her curly redhead lays on my shoulder.
“I love you,” I murmur. “And if you ever try something as harebrained as sacrificing yourself for me again, I’ll never say those words again.”
She tries to pull indignantly away from me, but I firmly place my hand on her head, and squeeze her body to mine until she quits struggling.
“I can’t lose you,” I hear her say after a few seconds, and she hugs me tighter. “I gave up every dream I ever had to save you. Everything I ever knew, I abandoned to make sure you lived. I’m not willing to give that up. I will sacrifice anything to keep you alive.”
I’m stunned at the import of her words. I’d never looked at it from that angle before, but it seems so obvious now. She had wanted to be an assassin, but failed her final test: killing me.
“Why don’t we make sure we both live,” I tell her softly. “You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been more a part of my life than anyone else. When I thought I’d lost you, I couldn’t handle it. If you want me to stay alive, then you’d better do the same.”