A: Ch. 1.3

Kya spat out her waterstone and leaned in the dark alley between two of the shops. There wasn’t even a glimpse of the General and she was growing testy. The sun had nearly fallen and she was no farther to her goal. In fact, she hadn’t seen a soldier of higher ranking than a grunt all day. This didn’t seem right. This was not what she was told. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She tugged at the scratchy skirt which was annoyingly short, even for her size. She was told the General would be making an appearance today. His flag was upon his spire, she had heard nothing of his departure or of his early demise—though she would have loved that—so he must either be hiding in the castle or hidden among the thousands of brown faces. 

“Are you going to tattle on me?” came a bright voice that cut through the crowds like a knife. 

The silence was infectious and it spread quickly, allowing the female’s voice to become all the more audible. Kya swallowed hard and tried to find the source, but the crowds were still too thick to see through and she was too short to see over. 

“I don’t think I’ll have to.” The voice was deep and harsh. It sent shivers down her spine. The silence appeared to petrify the crowds and they all became quite still as their heads followed the movement of two people, their quick silhouettes all Kya could make out. 

“Where are your shoes?” scorned the male voice.

“Lost them.”

The man growled and Kya wasn’t the only one who visibly shivered.

The crowd fell perfectly still as the pair walked to the center of the square, both apparently oblivious to the terrifying tension. 

“And what happened to your guards?” the man asked, though he seemed reluctant to hear the answer.

“Locked in a cellar. Imagine the King’s surprise when all of the wine is gone by morn!”

"I'll remember that," the man sneered, lowering his hood as he took the first few steps onto the stage. And as he did so, the world stopped.

It was him; there was no mistake in it. His brilliant emerald eyes sparkled more intensely than a diamond. She’d heard rumors of those eyes; how they were the color of the rich moss in the north, how they would even burn through a morning fog or glow in midnight’s darkness. She hadn’t believed him. No soul on the continent had eyes that color. Yet even in the evening twilight and the soft torch blaze, they were all she saw.

Third God General ‘Hilt’ was only a few strides away from her.

Kya was suddenly extremely conscious of her situation and surroundings and her blood ran cold. The oils in her skin were dripping away with sweat and she was a head shorter than any of the other women. Her colorless grey eyes were like a flame in the field of brown and black. This was too much, too close, and far beyond anything she had planned.

She planned to turn and flee, to find a spot and hide, but she was surrounded by a crowd that seemed to be multiplying without end. But the crowd… She could hide in it. There were suddenly so many people, there was no way he would see her. He would have no reason to be looking for her! He had no idea Elivagar had sent another charlatan into their midst.

The crowd swelled forward to fill the void that had been left by General Hilt’s passing. As it did, a young man bumped into the General’s young companion as she took her first steps onto the stage. She yelped and stumbled forward, but regained her footing in a heartbeat.

The man however, was suddenly held up by General Hilt.

"Manners. Whelp," the General whispered, voice carrying perfectly over the petrified silence. The man's green eyes tore into the terrified visage of his hostage. The poor man squirmed in the grasp and began to tremble.

He seemed terrified, as if he had just received a death sentence. But he just bumped a little girl. Why was everyone so tense? Sweat dampened his simple cotton clothing, and washed away the dirt from his face. The General looked at him as if he were sludge on the bottom of his shoes. He saw the boy as useless, and easily expendable.

No one was breathing.

"Do you know what I do to people who interrupt my work, whelp?" Hilt asked, smiling almost kindly at the boy.

The quick doppelganger change was terrifying, yet short. His free hand reached up to grab onto the boy's collar and then flung him mercilessly to the center of the gallows.

"N-no sir..." the young man stammered, wriggling away. “Pl-please s-sir, it was... it was an acc-"

"ACCIDENTS do NOT occur in Nibheis!” General Hilt finished. “We only accept success!" His roar silenced the now crying boy. "Back to the mines with you, scum," he grunted, nodding with a malicious glee. A trap door just beneath the boy’s trembling body swung open and he dropped below and out of sight.

He didn’t even have a chance to scream.

"Wonderful day for an execution, Aideen." Hilt muttered, looking over his shoulder at the girl as the door reclosed.

The girl, Aideen, smiled idly and was hardly bothered by the now painful reticence. It was as if time stood upon the point of a sewing needle, too terrified of the present to move forward. Kya thought she may faint until she heard a soft cheer, like a strangled squeal. Within a beat of her heart—which were quite rapid at this point—the entire crowd erupted in an earsplitting roar. 

Everyone, every man, woman and child, was cheering and bouncing about. Did they not just see what Kya had? The Third General just threw a man down a mine shaft! A boy! Simply because he was shoved into the apparent sacred sphere around this Aideen girl. It was absurd, it was macabre, it was—

“Watch eet, love,” growled an aggressive voice behind her. Kya hadn’t realize she had been inching backwards and had unknowingly stabbed the pointy heel of her boot into the foot of a very meaty man. 

“I-I’m sorry, I—“

“Get out of the way!” The man swung his large fist and knocked Kya aside, quickly taking her spot. The crowd seemed to be pushing forward, all wanting the closest spot to the raised platform. In all the excitement, Kya seemed to have forgotten that there was a reason the Third General was here in the first place. 

The General sighed and moved from the spot he had been standing in, walking slowly to stand to the right of the trap door. He raised his hand and flicked it forward, signaling guards from behind the platform to bring something up.

Bound in heavy chains, and wearing only extensive bruises and cuts as clothing, was a thin and lithe man with skin as pale as milk. Hilt smirked down at the broken body that was flung to his feet, the man only capable of making a few hoarse noises as he was moved about. With the toe of his boot the General rolled the man over to reveal the burns along his prisoner's neck, the reason for his lack of speech.

“My good, honorable, people of Beinn,” the General began, his voice silencing all cries in the crowd once again. “This... creature before you is known to the North as Sir,” he spoke the title with the thickest layer of sarcasm, “Lorant. The last assassin sent by the cowards to take the life of your King and yours truly.” With his words he held a hand to his chest as though mortally wounded.

“Yet, unsurprisingly, he is now before you. Bound like the animal he is, the King and I felt it... gracious to let the people decide the method of punishment for this one. You may even have me gut him like a sheep before you if that's the popular demand!”

Lorant? No, no, no. Kya found her hands shaking and pain pulsating at her temples. Things were starting to spiral out of control; this crowd, their lust for blood, and now Lorant was here? But how? She, along with the rest of Elivagar, assumed that he had been killed like all the assassins before him. But he had been sent on his mission over a year ago. Had he been a prisoner this whole time?

No, Kya had to verify it was him, though it went against all of her instincts. She felt like a lamb walking to slaughter. But this could easily be some scam that Beinn used to entertain their people. Obviously they were fond of death and misery. Perhaps they killed their own while waiting for more rogue assassins to show up on their doorstep. Now all Kya had to do was fight her way back through the crowd.

For once, her small stature proved beneficial. She squeezed and pinched and crawled through the tight knots of people. The shouting and screaming grew louder and people began to laugh. Kya could hardly discriminate what they were saying, let alone see what they were yelling about. Her mind was focused only on getting to the front. 

With a final push, she managed to get up to the first row. Kya stumbled and nearly toppled over a small boy who was pounding his fists on the ground in dismay. Horrified, she stepped back, only to fall into the lap of an old drunk who was mumbling about scorpions. The confused assassin finally managed to right herself and gaze up at the men on the stage.

There was no mistaking the knight; his perfect golden ringlets, while ruffled and tangled, still shimmered in the light. He was beaten, battered, and tortured beyond most recognition. His face was swollen and covered with old and new bruises alike. His fingers were bloody and blistered, and Lorant’s eyes were nearly swollen shut.

All this time he had been strung up and beaten like goat up for slaughter. At least a goat would have been killed by this point. These people had no mercy.

Like a giant wave, the roar of the crowd returned. The screams were directed to the General, and to Sir Lorant. The little boy she had tripped over was crying because he wanted the General to boil the prisoner. The drunk wanted him strapped in a box with deadly Nightshade scorpions.

They were all calling out how they wanted Lorant to be killed.

A thick, retching bolus started to work its way up from Kya’s stomach, and the stench of the Square wasn’t helping, but she pushed it back. Lorant had been held here for months without death. This had not been planned, they had not known this. Kya needed to plan. There was always a plan. She could not deviate from the plan!

Lorant looked up. His pale eyes that matched hers gazed forlornly over the screaming pride of lions that wanted to rip him limb from limb. He was broken, defeated, stripped of any humanity or dignity long ago.

And then his eyes locked onto Kya’s.

No, no, no! Why did he have to see her? And why was she staring back at him? His eyes flickered a glint of surprise and joy as he recognized her, but then fear – he knew what would happen to Kya when, not if, she failed.

Then he seemed angry. With the little strength he had left, he started fighting at his restraints. He grunted and yelled at the crowd, which only goaded them more.

A distraction, Kya understood. He was trying to pull the General’s attention long enough for her to slip away. It was his last gift to Elivagar, to Kya.

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