Kilig the Sword

by Barbara G. Tarn

  "Son of a bitch!" Abhaya shouted.

  Kilig was quick to disengage his weapons and whirl around, blocking Abhaya's attack and pushing him back. Abhaya stumbled on a piece of shattered furniture while he backpedaled and Kilig pinned him to the broken table, sinking his triple blades in his belly.

  "Saif's legacy is your demise, Abhaya the Fearless," he muttered, staring at Abhaya's widened eyes and the rivulet of blood running from his mouth. "Acharya Saif can rest in peace."

  He left his own dagger in Abhaya's belly and turned back to Hakeem, pushing away Chakram's corpse. He grabbed Hakeem's dagger to cut the ropes that tied Hakeem's wrists.

  Hakeem barely caught his breath. He threw his arms around Kilig's neck and sobbed twice, then looked up at Kilig. His face was a mask of blood and sweat, and the green eyes were filled with tears, but Hakeem bravely fought to regain control.

  "It's all right, it's over," Kilig said, gently stroking the bruised back.

  Hakeem made a weak smile, then his eyes widened in fear as he focused on something behind Kilig's back. Kilig felt a puncture on his shoulder and turned to see Abhaya put down his blowgun – again, a poisoned weapon for cowards – with a snigger, then his head started to spin.

  ***

  "No!" Hakeem screamed, letting go of Kilig.

  He rushed towards the pinned dying man who was putting another deadly dart in his blowgun and grabbed Abhaya's twin-bladed dagger from the floor on the way. He stabbed Abhaya's neck, pinning him again to the table and ending his life before he could shoot again.

  He rushed back to Kilig who had collapsed, the poison quickly spreading in his body, and tried to keep him awake.

  "Stay with me, Kilig!" he urged, helping him on his feet. "Come on, don't give up on me now!"

  He managed to drag him outside where he found a mounted man who was warily observing the corpses outside of the granary. The sun was rising.

  "I need your horse," Hakeem pleaded. "Poisoned dart! I'll bring it back!"

  The man helped him to put Kilig on the saddle and Hakeem spurred the horse towards the Genn palace.

  "Please, help!" he called, stopping the horse in front of the main door. "I need a healer! Poisoned weapon!"

  Two Genn males – with long golden manes and pointed ears – rushed to help him bring Kilig inside and they lay him on the closest bed. A female Genn with a platinum mane knelt by Kilig's sweaty body and imposed her hands, closing her eyes.

  Hakeem saw a golden powder engulf the wound and upper body of Kilig. The ragged breathing slowly went back to normal and Kilig seemed to fall asleep.

  If we weren't living so far away from Godwalkar, my father could have been saved too. Hakeem felt a lump in his throat. It had taken Saif over a week to die, since the wound was superficial and not so close to the heart like Kilig's. The darts were deadlier than poisoned blades, obviously.

  The Genn healer opened her eyes – Genn-green eyes, like his – and looked at him.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "Mine are just scratches," he answered. "Nothing life threatening." His head was throbbing a little, though.

  She rose and touched his forehead, and the headache subsided.

  "Where are your clothes?" one of the male Genn asked, amused.

  Hakeem blushed, remembering he was naked. "I'll get them. I need to take back the horse anyway. Will you take care of Kilig?"

  The healer nodded. "He's resting. Get your things and we'll take care of you as well."

  Hakeem nodded and went back outside. A Genn child was talking to the horse he had borrowed and glanced at him with mild curiosity. Hakeem couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl – adult Genn had some differences either in the way they dressed or if they had bumps on their chests or not – but he thanked the child and took the horse back to the granary.

  He found the man inside, and realized he wore three brass wheels on his left arm – he must be a younger member of the Assassins' Guild, maybe sent by Nimdja to keep an eye on them.

  "I brought back your horse, as promised," Hakeem said shyly, starting to dress. He still ached everywhere and looked forward to trying more Genn healing magic.

  "Was that Kilig that you hastily took away?" the other asked.

  "Yes, a Genn healer managed to save him."

  "You must be Kukri, then. I'm Katar, Nimdja's right arm. As expected, neither of you needed help against Shamsher." The man grinned at him after looking around, satisfied.

  "Kilig did most of the work," Hakeem admitted with a sigh. He was fully dressed now, and started gathering his and Kilig's weapons.

  "Kilig is the best, as was Saif before him. Shamsher thought that it would be easy to get rid of him – and you – after killing his former mentor. Except Kilig didn't retire fifteen years ago, and he was always better than Shamsher."

  Hakeem smiled. "I know. Kilig gave me my assassin's name, but he will be my mentor forever. I will not watch him die like I did my father and will do my best to help him spread Saif's school."

  Katar chuckled. "I'm sure you will."

  Hakeem spat on Chakram's corpse. He only had the triple-bladed dagger to retrieve. And he decided to keep Abhaya's twin-blade dagger as well. Unpinned from the wood, the rogue's corpse slowly slid to the ground.

  "Let's burn this place," Katar said with contempt. "We don't want a disease to spread from these dead bodies."

  Hakeem helped him to set the fire, watched the granary burn, then rain came. Katar mounted on his horse and Hakeem rode behind him to the Genn palace.

  Kilig had been moved to an inner, more comfortable room and was still asleep. The Genn fed Hakeem, then he collapsed on the big bed, next to Kilig, oblivious of his aches and utterly exhausted.

  ***

  Kilig woke up in a soft bed, in a big comfortable room, with Hakeem sleeping by his side. He noticed the young man looked peaceful and had no trace of bruises on his face.

  His own body felt fine. He sat to touch the back of his shoulder, but couldn't find where the dart had hit him. The scratches on his arms and bruises from the latest fight were gone too.

  He heard Hakeem gasp and felt the green eyes on him before he turned his head to find Hakeem up and seated to take a closer look at him.

  "How are you feeling?" the young man asked, hopeful.

  "I'm fine. Where are we?"

  "The Genn palace. When the poisoned dart hit you, I had to save you. I found Katar outside the granary and borrowed his horse to take you here as fast as I could."

  Kilig smiled against his will. Hakeem sounded rightfully proud of himself.

  "So you came here all naked and bruised and were healed too," he said, amused.

  "Well, I took the horse back and gathered my clothes and our weapons." Hakeem pointed at a low table where he had dropped nooses, brass wheels and daggers. "And then I came back here and ate and fell asleep."

  "So you healed naturally during your sleep?"

  "No, I..." Puzzled, Hakeem seemed to realize his aches were gone. He touched his face, then took off his tunic, but his torso looked untouched – no signs of the whipping. "Oh, I guess the Genn healed me too," he concluded with a shrug and a half smile, throwing the tunic to the floor.

  Kilig chuckled. "And how's your lower part?" he asked. "Did Chakram manage to...?"

  "No!" Hakeem assured him. "I had sworn only you would be allowed to do that. It was a close call, though." He stared eagerly at Kilig. "Will you do it now?"

  "No, you're free to go your own way," Kilig answered, averting his eyes from the gorgeous half-naked body. "You are a member of the Assassins' Guild, you've met its most influential members, Nimdja and Katar, I wish you all the best in your life. Your father is avenged and my promise is fulfilled."

  Hakeem took Kilig's chin and turned his head to force him to look him in the eyes. He was very serious now.

  "You won't get rid of me that easily, Acharya Kilig," he warned.

  "I am not your acharya anymore, Kukri," Kilig retorted, accenting Hak
eem's assassin's name.

  "Then you're my Kilig and I'm your Hakeem," the young man replied with a half-smile. "Or would you prefer I called you Karuna the Compassionate?"

  "I don't want you to call me anything!" Kilig snapped, jarred. He could feel the attraction for Hakeem again. He must get away from the young man as fast as he could.

  Hakeem put his arms around his neck and pulled him closer to give him a long, hungry kiss.

  "Why do you reject me, dilbar?" he whispered in his ear. "You want this as much as I do." He pressed his body against Kilig who struggled to keep control.

  Kilig found himself lying on the bed with Hakeem all over him, kissing, caressing, undressing, but mostly taking his breath away. Hakeem's passion was irresistible.

  They came together against each other, lost in each other's mouth, and then Hakeem curled up against him, spent but happy.

  "I love you, Kilig," he said, caressing Kilig's chest. "Don't throw me out of your life."

  Kilig couldn't speak. He held Hakeem tighter and finally surrendered. He'd sworn never to fall in love again, but Saif's legacy had carried him away, making him feel alive and happy for the first time in years.

  "I love you too, Hakeem," he whispered, closing his eyes.

  2. Kilig's Heart

  "I hadn't noticed there's a cemetery in front of the Guild," Hakeem said, pointing at the low wall on his right. "It looks just like the ones in the Blackmore Kingdom... but I thought here there were different traditions? Like, no burial, but a funeral pyre and ashes kept in temples?"

  Kilig smiled fondly at him and squeezed his hand.

  "You know, I used to wait for your father's return on that low wall," he said. "When he actually came back, I spent one night on there, waiting for a good time to knock and request him as acharya."

  Hakeem looked at him, his green eyes wide in wonder.

  "Really? But why did we take his ashes to the main temple then?"

  "This is a peasant cemetery," Kilig explained. "They want to be buried in the land, since they spend their lives working it. The temple over there is for the Earth Goddess, to look upon their mortal remains."

  "Oh!" Hakeem stopped to look at the grass and stones of the cemetery and the little temple at the beginning of the street. "So the peasants around here have the same beliefs as the warriors up north. They want to be buried like seeds." He shivered under the sun. "Sounds awful."

  Kilig chuckled. "As if you'd be aware of anything done to your body when you're dead," he said. "And obviously not everybody likes the idea of being turned into ashes."

  "I don't mind. I mean, I think we are dust, so ashes are almost the same," Hakeem said, thoughtful. "My mother was a shaman and she believed in the Earth Goddess. She used to say that we're stardust and that we will return to the stars after death."

  "I don't know about that." Kilig shrugged. "I've never really believed in any god. None of the ones I've been told about ever did anything for me or my family. The only one was Saif." He sighed. "He changed my life in so many ways..."

  "Like you changed mine." Hakeem stared at him adoringly.

  "You weren't really threatened with death!" Kilig teased.

  "Yes, I was." Hakeem hugged him. "Death by lack of feelings."

  Kilig squeezed him and briefly kissed Hakeem's hair. He didn't like to display his affection in public, even though the street was empty. Anyone could walk around the corner at any moment, so he let go of Hakeem and looked him in the eyes.

  "Would you like one of the rooms overlooking this?" he asked, amused. "I always found it a very peaceful place."

  "It is a very quiet street, I'm not surprised now that I see why," Hakeem said. "I mean, assassins and dead peasants..."

  "We like our privacy. And they are very nice neighbors."

  Hakeem smiled. "You have a weird sense of humor, Kilig."

  "I don't have a sense of humor," Kilig corrected, sitting on the low wall and grabbing both Hakeem's hands. "I'm an assassin."

  "Liar." Hakeem freed his hands, put his arms around Kilig's neck and kissed him. "You're the sweetest man I've ever met."

  "I've just killed nine men and a half and you call me sweet?" Kilig protested with a chuckle. He pulled Hakeem closer and squeezed his waist, putting his ear against his torso. "What have I done to deserve you?"

  "You finished my training, you helped me avenge my father and you accepted my love," Hakeem counted. "As for a room with a view of the cemetery, no thanks. The one we have is fine, isn't it?"

  "Yes," Kilig rose and took his hand again, stepping towards the Guild's door. "But if you want to live somewhere else, just say it."

  "I don't know," Hakeem wrinkled his nose. "I have flashes of memories around here... can we explore the town a little?"

  "Sure." Kilig briefly kissed him before knocking on the Guild's door. Since he'd surrendered to Hakeem's passion, he felt different. Filled with something that made him smile simply by looking at the young man by his side. Even killing bad guys felt different now – although Abhaya had fully deserved what had befallen him. Same with Chakram.

  He thought he hadn't really tested Hakeem's skills in cold blood killing, so he couldn't be sure Hakeem would be a good assassin. He knew Hakeem was well trained, but wondered if he was made for the assassin's life.

  A life that suddenly felt like a burden even for him now that he had found someone who warmed his heart.

  ***

  Hakeem stopped in front of the building and looked at the stairs that went up to a little first floor door. He glanced inside the ground floor shop window and pursed his lower lip.

  "I think I used to live here," he told Kilig, thoughtful.

  "So you were born in Godwalkar. But your mother was a foreigner."

  "Yes. She was bilingual and sometimes she talked to me in her mother tongue, but I really learned it only when we went back north. Do you mind if I knock?"

  Kilig shrugged, and Hakeem took the stairs two by two to knock on the door that had given him a sense of déjà vu. Now that he'd spent some time in Godwalkar, flashes of his childhood made him rediscover a town he had completely forgotten in the village on the border.

  That particular street had looked familiar and he'd wandered in, looking around, searching for clues until that house had caught his attention. Nobody answered the first floor door, so he came back down and tried the shop. An elder woman opened the door and stared at him, surprised.

  "Good day," he greeted with a curt bow and a smile. "I was wondering if you could help me. Did a northern woman with her son live upstairs some fifteen years ago?" He pointed at the first floor.

  "Yes..." The woman relaxed. "You must be Hakeem. That eye-color is so unusual..."

  "It's me!" Hakeem brightened. "You even remember my name!"

  The woman chuckled. "Of course, you were named after my father," she said. "Mirabella wanted a southern name for you, so I suggested Hakeem."

  "Oh! I didn't know that! But you look familiar... remind me of your name!"

  "Ramya. Your mother was my apprentice first, and my assistant later. How is she?"

  Hakeem's excitement vanished. "Unfortunately she died almost four years ago," he answered, lowering his eyes. "A very bad winter. My father couldn't cut wood fast enough to keep her warm."

  "How sad." Rayna sighed. "And how is your father?"

  "He was killed two months ago. And that's why I'm here. I came back to avenge him."

  "Men are too keen on revenge," Ramya said, shaking her head. "Will you stay in town?"

  "Yes!" Hakeem brightened again. "With the love of my life!" He glanced at Kilig who waited one step away. "Is the room I shared with my mother available? We'd love to find a place for ourselves. How much do you want to rent it?"

  Ramya's eyes went from him to Kilig and back.

  "It's been empty for a few years, and it's a mess," she warned. "I gave up renting it – too much of a hassle."

  "Why? The lodgers didn't pay the rent?"

  "I had to
ask a high price and eventually they stopped coming."

  Hakeem exchanged a puzzled glance with Kilig.

  "Is there some form of extortion on this street?" the elder assassin asked bluntly.

  Ramya looked him in the eyes and nodded slowly.

  "See the burned building at the end of the street?" she pointed to the window. "They said they didn't have the money to pay the protection."

  "Will you excuse us for a moment?" Kilig grabbed Hakeem's arm and pulled him into a corner. "Do you want to be an assassin or not?" he asked in a low voice.

  "Yes!" Hakeem nodded eagerly. "But I thought I already was," he added, confused. "You gave me the name and..."

  "Technically you should pass a final exam by killing in cold blood. Finishing Abhaya wasn't really it. But now you have an excellent opportunity to help your friend and earn your assassin's name. If it's what you want, of course. I'll love you anyway if you don't."

  "Oh." Hakeem pondered quickly. "Will you assist me?" he asked, worried.

  "Of course. I'll be with you on your first mission," Kilig promised, squeezing his hands.

  "And will you tell me about yours?" Hakeem insisted. Kilig smiled against his will and nodded. "Good!"

  Hakeem returned to Ramya. "We will help you!" he announced. "Will you rent us the room if we rid you of the extortionist?"

  She smiled. "Of course. You can have it for free if you can repair it. This house is crumbling down, much like myself, but since I don't have anyone to pass it to..."

  "What other repairs do you need? And I can help in the shop, I often went looking for herbs with my mother in the forest near our house! I'll give you protection without stealing your money!"

  "Hakeem, are you sure?" Kilig asked, a little worried.

  "Yes!" Hakeem turned to look at him. "Trust me!" he whispered.

  Kilig raised his hands in surrender. Ramya smiled and gave them the key so they could check the room upstairs and its state.

  The door creaked open, and dust and cobwebs welcomed them. Some tiles were missing from the roof and a part of the plank floor was wet and the wood rotten from the rain that had come in from the opening in the ceiling.