by Travis Kerr
"It's part of our cover Roland," Malik explained. "If we try to go in without anything to sell it might look suspicious. When you create a cover it has to be believable enough that anyone who looks won't find anything that could give you away. I'm posing as a merchant who sells black market gems. The herbs are what he sells openly to avoid suspicion."
"So, what you're telling me is that your cover story needs supplies for his cover story?" Drom, now Roland, asked. "That sounds incredibly confusing. How do you keep all of your stories straight?"
Malik grinned. "You don't get confused when thinking about people you've known for a while, right? It doesn't matter how detailed their life might be, you still know their story and can remember it fairly well. Knowing your persona isn't much different. I'm not telling a lie so much as creating an entire fictional person. Details I keep vague, so that way no one can see through the person I am at that time.
"In this case though, you're basically right. This persona, Malik, does need supplies for the lie he creates to hide who he is. The real me, the assassin that exists behind all those covers, stays hidden under so many layers that anyone looking into him won't look far enough to ever learn the real truth. If someone looks into Malik, they might see through the man who sells herbs, but underneath they'll find someone who sells gems illegally. They would never have a need to look further, so they’ll never find what lies under all of those layers. Understand?"
"I get it. Instead of just hiding behind one person, you hide who you really are behind several. Even below the assassin that Tara and I have come to know, I'm willing to bet that there are even more layers. You won't ever let anyone know the real you, will you?"
Malik laughed heartily. "Of course not. It would defeat the entire purpose of hiding my identity if I did. Tara has come closer than anyone to understanding who I really am. Now you know almost as much as she does, though she knows more of my aliases than you do. Of course she's been with me longer, so that's to be expected. The only other people who know anything at all about me I haven’t seen in years, and most of them are dead. Who they were isn’t really important."
"I take it that it's safe to assume that you have the gems to sell as well?" Roland asked, almost more of a statement than a question. Malik didn't bother replying. The answer was obvious.
Of course he does.
The group continued down the broken road, until by some unseen sign Malik turned them into the woods to their right. With Malik leading the way, they pushed their way through the thick brush. Roland kept his eyes open, watching the ground and trees to either side of him.
He had heard tales of huge serpents that lived in some of the swamps and woods in the areas. From what he had been told about such animals they were supposed to live further south, in and around the deep swamps, but he had no intention of taking any chances. Certainly there were rattlesnakes and moccasins to be found nearby, and they were dangerous enough to warrant caution.
Malik threaded his way through the thick scrub for nearly an hour, down a path only he could see.
He certainly wasn't lying about this place being difficult to reach, Roland thought sourly, as the bottom of his tunic caught on the low hanging branch of a tree and held. The fabric tore before he could stop himself from going any further forward. With a disgusted snort he glared down at the rend.
I’ll need to repair it when we stop for the night, he thought, hoping he would remember to do so. He was certain that Malik wouldn’t be very happy if the uniform he lent him was destroyed while they stomped through the woods.
Finally they came to an area where a narrow stream ran through. Small trees sprouted sporadically along its banks, and the brush along the ground was much thinner than what they had been walking through to get there.
"This is what we want to gather first," Malik told him, bending down to pull a small, narrow leafed plant out of the ground, roots and all. Tara must have known already what they had come for, as she had already started picking the plant he indicated without looking to see what Malik had said.
Roland nodded and starting gathering the strange herbs. He could have been certain that this was a plant he had seen before. It look disturbingly similar to a plant his father had pointed out to him once when he found it growing in his fields. The plant had leaves that were extremely poisonous, he had been told. Still, he had been a small child then.
This must be something different.
A light breeze in the air caused Roland to pause, sniffing. In the span of two heartbeats he traced the smell back to the plants that his two companions were picking. The smell was similar to basil, though different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It smells absolutely delicious!
"Do you think there will be enough that I can add some to my dinner tonight?" Roland asked finally, interested in testing the taste of the fragrant weed.
"Not if you want to reach the city," Malik answered in amusement. "The leaves of this herb can be boiled down to a deadly poison. Just eating them raw is likely to kill you. The roots, however, can be used to help break fever, and is gentle enough that it can even be used on infants, which few medications can claim. I'll sell the roots to a healer in the city. As for the rest of the plant, I'll keep that for myself. I don't often use poison, but on occasion it can be useful. The poison I make from this takes several hours to take affect and leaves little trace. When you want someone to appear to have died naturally, it works well."
Roland looked away and said nothing, grateful that he hadn't simply tasted the plant before asking anything about it. The group continued picking for another hour before moving on to a different plant, this time one that Roland recognized as an herb generally used to flavor poultry and fish. It wasn't something he had any interest in, but he was certain that his companions would likely be using it that night.
After several hours spent picking various plants, Malik decided they had enough for trading in the city. They only needed enough to give the appearance of herb traders, he said. They weren't actually trying to make a living this way.
"Once you’re finish with your evening workout, wash your clothing in the stream," Malik ordered. "Both the uniform you are wearing and your old clothing in your bag. Once we’re close to the city you'll be changing back into your regular clothing. There are sure to be Thanes in the city, and they have certain ways of recognizing each other that you don't know about yet. It would take too long to try and teach you. No one has seen your face in that disguise, so we don't need to worry about someone recognizing you.
"In fact, it might be better yet to change now. While a Thane guard on the road is less likely to be questioned, there's always a chance someone might stop you at the city gates. Once we’re in the city we'll do a little shopping. Keep the sword until then. There are enough mercenaries working as guards that you'll get through the gates with me no matter what you're wearing."
"What are your plans once we get into the city?" Roland asked. "I mean, where am I supposed to go?"
"First I'll need to see my client," Malik answered. "I’d like you to come with me for that. I think that meeting my client will go a long way in helping you understand what it is I do. I don’t know if you’ve decided if you want to stay with us longer or not, but I think that meeting the client might convince you to stay with us. It’s up to you whether or not you want to meet the client. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. If you don’t want to meet the client you can just go with Tara to get us a room at the inn and we’ll square up the following morning. Think about it for a bit and let me know what you decide once we get to the city."
That said Malik walked off, refusing to say another word. As usual his companion kept his thoughts to himself, and would not reveal anything more than what he wanted. Roland watched as Malik started gathering wood for the night's fire, although sundown was still a long way off. He pulled his clothes out of the bag and stripped down to his underclothes.
"Be careful walk
ing too close to the water," Tara advised, coming up behind him so silently that he jumped slightly at her voice. He had thought she had already gone off to fish. He quickly pulled his clothing in front of him before realizing that his underclothing still covered him decently enough.
Pretending that she didn't notice his discomfort, she continued. "There are occasionally alligators in the water, and other things almost as dangerous. I caught a snapping turtle here once that was nearly three feet across. While it wouldn't try to eat you or anything, it could certainly take off a hand. That would end your chances of becoming an accomplished swordsman pretty quickly."
"Thank you," he answered, unable to think of any other reply. Though he had never thought of himself as accomplished at anything, he had been practicing every night.
Tara never seems to pay much attention my nightly practices, but perhaps she really has been watching all along.
The thought brought a smile to his face, which he tried to suppress as quickly as it appeared.
"When you're finished with your laundry, perhaps you can show me what you've learned so far," she continued unexpectedly, ignoring his stifled grin. "I can use a little practice myself. I promise not to be too rough with you," she teased.
Roland was taken aback with her banter. She had hardly spoken to him at all during the month or so they had been traveling together, as if she hadn't expected him to be around long enough to be worth getting to know.
Has something changed that I’m not unaware of?
He finished the washing quickly, excited with the prospect of sparring with the feral woman. So far he had only fought with the trees around him. He had yet to try his skills against a live opponent. Not only that, but he had known the woman for nearly a month and had yet to see her pull out her weapon. Even if she only used a fraction of her real skill, it would be interesting to see what she was capable of.
He was almost disappointed when she came forward with two stout sticks. He was rather hoping that he would get to spare with real blades. He realized at once how foolish that thought really was. Even if he didn't hurt himself with the sharp weapon, the combat could still damage the blade. There wasn't much point nicking a blade in practice when a stout stick would work just as well. He hefted the makeshift weapon to gain its balance.
"OK, show me what you've learned so far," she taunted, flashing him one of her rare, toothy grins. When Drom had first joined them her sharp, pointed teeth made him nervous, but he had gotten used to them during their time on the road. Now he viewed them as a rather attractive feature on his feral friend.
Taking the initiative, he stepped into a hard swing to her left thigh, which as expected she blocked with a downward swing. Twisting his body and turning his wrist, he used the momentum of her block to propel his blade back around in a shallow arc, firing a quick shot to the right side of her head. She smiled and ducked under the swing, bringing her branch up high into his stomach.
Oomph! He doubled over as the air rushed out of his lungs. Thankfully, she pulled back on the strike at the last second, so the attack only knocked the wind out of him.
She could easily have broken one or two of my ribs with that attack, he realized. Had it been a blade she surely would have gutted me.
Once again he saw the prudence in using the imitation weapons, though even they could be dangerous.
"Your speed was decent for a beginner. However, your footwork was off and you telegraphed your attack pattern." Even while she was scolding him she seemed to be enjoying herself. She strutted across the other side of the small clearing they fought in, her tail flicking behind her playfully. "Try something different. Assume you are fighting a skilled opponent, which you are, and treat this as a fight to the death. Treat every fight like that from now on. Remember, it's not always the strongest fighter who wins. Try to think of a way to defeat me."
He faced her a second time, refusing to comment.
I was treating the fight seriously, he thought silently. He knew, however, that she had more experience and skill with a blade than he did.
How do I defeat someone who’s a lot better than I am?
She stood across from him confidently, certain of her own ability. He jumped forward, attacking the same way he had the first time. Once again she blocked with a downward strike, and once again he turned to fire an attack at the opposite side. He hoped that she would move the same way, ducking underneath and going for his exposed midsection. He planned on stepping back, using his greater reach to his advantage and cut straight across, which would block her attack and counter at the same time.
As if sensing his plan, she changed her tactic. This time she didn’t duck underneath the blow as she had, but instead stepped forward and blocked directly, using her momentum to counter with a downward strike.
He saw the attack coming and rolled his wrist to bring the bottom edge of his blade in front of him, blocking high. Instead of countering with his blade, however, he threw a palm strike at chest level with his other hand. For a brief second he was certain that his blow was going to land. In fear he tried to pull the strike, but knew that there wasn’t enough time.
No!
He had just enough time to see her smile.
She moved smoothly to her right, neatly dodging his strike, and countered with a vicious vertical attack aimed at the top of his head. He raised his sword quickly to block. He barely got his weapon up in time. He clenched his muscles against the powerful blow he knew must be coming.
The blow he was expecting never came. In fact, her strike barely touched his blocking blade at all. Instead, it slid down his weapon’s edge and, like a striking snake, thrust directly at his heart.
His mind screamed in panic.
Even a wooden stick could kill me if she stabs me in the heart with it! He felt something inside him change.
No, this was not a change at all, he realized. It had always been there. It had been waiting, hidden behind a curtain, and now that curtain lifted, allowing what was once inside to come out.
His body moved quickly to the left, almost of its own accord, as if instinctively. Tara’s imitation weapon passed harmlessly under his sword arm, which he pulled across in a lightning fast strike aimed at the side of her head.
With amazing speed her sword arm came up above her head, her sword pointed down in front of her body.
How had she managed to get her sword back in front of her so quickly?
While a part of him was asking this, however, another part of his mind, the part that was once hidden and dormant, was controlling his body. The slumbering dragon waking inside of him knew what to do.
Instead of stepping back to regain his range advantage, which was what he had been taught to do, he stepped forward, neatly pinning her weapon between them while at the same time twisting his own weapon into an arcing swing that wrapped around to the back of her head.
Stopping just a fraction of an inch before the break in the wrist will keep the attack from hitting her forcefully, this new part of him said into the void of his mind.
The other part of him, the part of him he had been before, wondered how he knew that.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise.
She must not have expected that move, he thought. I have her!
The sudden elation he felt at the thought snapped the two pieces of his mind back together like an elastic band. His attacking arm slowed a fraction of a second, wavering ever so slightly, as his original self gained control once more.
At the last moment, just before he meant to pull the attack, he saw it. The slight glint from her sharp, bright teeth as she smiled.
She pushed herself harder against him, sliding down his body, melting away from him like water cascading down a mountainside. Tara moved so smoothly that it felt to him as if she moved in slow motion, yet it was so fast he could do nothing against it. In one fluid movement she dropped underneath his wrapping strike, twirling completely like a spinning top.
Before he could move she had complete
d her first rotation, sliding her wooden weapon across his side in a smooth, gentle slash as she did so. She continued her revolution a second time, rolling against his back to end on the opposite side of his body, the stick in her hand poised feather light, hovering less than an inch above his forehead.
"Much better," she laughed, removing the stick from above him. He exhaled loudly, not realizing that he had been holding his breath until she had taken her wooden sword away. He knew without asking that either of her strikes would have killed him had she been using a sharpened blade. Even the wooden one would have hurt if she hadn’t pulled her attacks.
He did a quick mental inventory on himself, making sure that her blows were really as gentle as he had first thought.
Everything seems to be in order, he thought, breathing an unconscious sigh of relief.
He could feel a slight stinging where her stick had slid against him. Gratefully, she hadn’t put enough power into it to do any real damage.
"That time you attempted to use your strength to your advantage, but you didn't rely on it. Quite a few men I've fought before have died from the thrust I attacked with right after my false vertical blow, but you managed to avoid it completely." She seemed pleased with his success, if her wide, toothy grin was any indication.
"Granted, I didn't use my full speed, but that's still quite an accomplishment after only a month of practice. Your training has really only been in attacking. You haven't done any sparring, and haven't been able to study much defense yet, which means you avoided that blow naturally. With enough training you could potentially become an excellent swordsman. I'm impressed, and I'm not impressed easily, or often.
"You lost that last round when you did only because you lost your balance after your wrap shot. You might have lasted longer if you hadn't been so far out of position. There wasn't any way you could block my attack afterward. You need a lot of work on your defense, but you have quite a bit of natural ability that you haven't tapped into yet."
Roland nodded vaguely.