Chapter 4: Death {3}

Killing, the murder, the assassination was the easy bit. Sneaking back undetected was not quite so easy. But she had managed it a few days back from that kill, and found herself scouring out the closer villages for a new target.

She was moving inward.

The moon was shining bright overhead, the stars lighting up the dark void that could swallow you whole.

She had been running hastily through back streets for a few minutes until changing her pace to a steady stroll as she sauntered into the busy lanes.

She didn't always hide in the shadows, liking to appear occasionally to remind everyone not to mess with her.

Lifting her head as the assassin walked, revealing her lower face, yet shadowed by the darkness provided by the hood, she smiled.

Stepping into the night market, the assassin embraced the cold consuming her body; could feel the curious eyes of all piercing her cloaked face.

Many heads whipped around to stare; she took no notice.

It didn't bother her, they soon learned their place and cowered in fear once she hissed, hiding behind their sanctuary of a commercial wall.

The street was not bustling as it usually was, not with her walking around anyway.

The assassin had no destination in mind, she just loved the attention, spooking anyone who saw the gleaming tips of her deadly arrows, or her pitch-black bow carved with such precision, it too, had deadly peaks.

The smells of the spices and tree bark hoisted its way through her nostrils. The hard, concrete ground biting her shoes away, bit by bit. This was her home, her jungle- but... she had to go back. She couldn't even call 'back' her 'home', as it never felt like it. Not once.

Eyes darted to and fro her cloak to her body, especially by the brave, foolish men who dared test their luck. Their bravado and blessings from the God's would only get them so far, and because of that thought, a vicious smirk crawled its way on her face, sending a few men to retract their wondering eyes.

Entering a nearby tavern as if routine, it's aching wood screeched as she pressed its barren doors to open.

The room fell silent.

The horses tethered outside hushed.

Heads from all directions mimicked the streets, turning in anticipation and realisation at their now dangerous situation.

The tavern was filthy, covered from head to toe in sweat, blood and tears along with; stains, dents, and destruction of past brawls. 'Good times' marked these wood walls forever, no one ever bothered fixing them.

Probably couldn't afford too. Especially since this was one of the lost rowdy neighbourhoods compared to the rest of the usually tame kingdom. Well... in her experience anyway.

Tables with chairs of three were scattered among the uneven floorboards, spilling ale onto the already, disgusting floor.

Without hesitation, she sauntered directly to the back of the room where the bar stood.

The heads traced her movements, each body squirming, filled with stenches of fear that she could recognise anywhere and knew all to well.

"Lady Aloysia Tamala", he bowed sheepishly, "What do I have the pleasure to assist you for? A drink perhaps?"

Aloysia raised her hood slightly. Her eyes still concealed in nothingness. "No thank you" she smiled devishly.

He gulped but tried ever so hard to hide his overwhelming instinct to scream.

"Then... w-what else is it? I am more than h-happy to help you" he shrunk under her prescience.

The assassin smiled, "There will be no need, I will make short work of it myself".

The man couldn't breathe, looking around the room, avoiding her 'eye' contact that could shred him in an instant.

The bartender was only an old man who had worked here his entire life. Poor man, his heart probably didn't prepare for such a scare. Stubble met his chin, wrinkles outlined his features, and his eyes looked constantly tired with ancient eye bags that carried a lifetime.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, leaning back to nonchalantly proclaim, in a sickeningly sweet tone, "I just wanted to drop bye to say hello, and to warn the person standing 3 feet behind me with the blade sticking out to put his knife in a place that isn't so obvious-" He staggered back.

"-Especially if you want to keep the murderous intent a secret" she whispered to the frozen person near her.

They shuddered.

Frosty air stifled the room, intoxicating everyone. He almost choked.

The assassins head swivelled slowly -for dramatic purpose of course- to face the impotent ignoramus person who 'posed' a threat to her.

She laughed at the sight of him.

The man held her gaze; anger was long gone, in his eyes, shone a passion for murder in spite of his humiliation.

He leapt out from his chair with a screech, propping his head high as he formed a stance.

Imminently, everyone else abandoned their drink and raced as fast as they could to the sides; hugging the walls and eyes scoping for an exit to the hell they were about to witness.

"You just made the first mistake women! I'll kill your sadistic ass!"

She snickered, spitting back sarcastically, "I always laugh when people try to hurt my feelings... too bad I don't have any"

The growling man's face was rough; sun-kissed skin, with hair so wild it didn't look brushed in his lifetime, which wasn't long. He looked young, around 25 by his muscle intensity. The clothes were firmly clenched to his body as his hands drew a plain common dagger from his boot; it's pommel being the giveaway in the first place.

"You will die for humiliating me bitch! You just made it personal"

"Awwww" she drawled, "revenge sounds so mean, don't you think? That's why I prefer calling it, returning the favour"

Aloysia hissed, growing excited and drawing a petit wince from him. She pursued her stance and herself, pulled out her twin, silver blades; one for each hand. She held them with such ferocity and familiarity, it was coercing and alarming to anyone who saw.

The assassins' hands gripped the cloth wrapped round the handle with power. "On my way here, I thought it a shame to not get to use these" She flipped it in the air; caught it seamlessly, "Oh, how I was wrong"

A lethal snarl rippled from her as he lunged toward the assassin, dagger at hand.

Aloysia swiped past him with redoubtable ease, positioning her dagger just right for it to mark him down the arm, slicing the fabric and skin. She shoved him with her elbow upward, giving the boost of speed and height to go flying. Blood spurred out from the crazed man. He was playing with his life. Arrogance led him here, and he knew it, they all did.

He collided head first into the counter, ramming bottles of its shelf. Smashed glass and alcohol littered the ground as Alyosia hopped over the counter using only one arm. Her boots lay an inch from his droopy head. "Here I thought you would be a worthy adversary? She mocked him.

His blood dripped from the blades tip as she crouched to him. Both the assassin and the idiotic man were now hidden from sight as the wooden counter sheltered her. The bartender long gone.

"Who sent you to do their dirty work for them? Who else wants me dead?"

No answer.

Fear radiated of him as dominance radiated of Alyosia. Silence was thick.

Aloysia tilted her head, as he raised his. The shattered glass, stuck, like a pin in a pin cushion all over his frail body.

The dagger to which was still tucked in his palm, shot towards her face in a last hope of survival.

She caught it by the wrist flawlessly. He gaped as agony pulsated through his deranged body.

"I'll ask a second time... who sent you?" She sneered.

He went rigid, silent in response.

"You are testing my patience, do not think you will get off lightly"

Nothing...

So be it.

She snatched the dagger from his hand and placed it on the counter overhead. The mans eyes pleaded with her as he sobbed. She stared at him foully, nothing but shame shrouded her vision.

"Have you no integrity, you can't even do a job properly!?"

He continued to sob. She was angry now, infuriated at this man who gave in so easily.

"You would have died with honour, but now-", she inspected her dying opponent, "you will die a coward!" Her rage turned her hands to fury as she buried her own dagger right into his heart.

He gagged on his own blood, throbbing of the lungs, incapable of breath. Her delicate hand bearing the blade was soaked in his blood. The stench made her nose crinkle, yet she endured it. This was normal.

Her other hand cupped his chin, lifting his head, as she declined hers.

She ripped the dagger from him. Pain contorted his face. It made her grin. She forced his eyes open and lifted her hood, all the way so he could see her eyes. Her hair parted around her face, they eyes buzzing. They were a crimson red, alighting at the moment of his death- the moment his soul was relieved of his wasted body. The kill, the adrenaline and rush of it all, was never repetitive. And with that, the man slumped his lifeless body to the floor.

His eyes now filled with nothing, an empty window that rippled of him, impacting those who were still in the tavern. A dead eerie atmosphere.

With a satisfied smile, she stood, hiding her eyes once again and scoffed. Her hand and blade drenched in his blood, leaking into her cloak and leg. She was a sight for sore eyes.

"That will be all"

She laughed and bowed for fun, as if she were entertainment, and they, her audience.

She was enjoying this. Enjoying the bystanders take in her deeds.

"I will be leaving now". The room was silent, so silent you could hear the wind hurdle against the outside walls.

The assassin strolled to the door, picking up the abandoned, and now homeless dagger. She halted. "Just so you know-"

She whipped her head around. A poster was hung at the wall with random actors in who she had no interest in. Aloysia rested the blade in her hand and lugged the blade straight at the poster, it sliced the wind and punctured the paper, tip first, at the head of an actor.

"That is what will happen if you ever, ever, test me"

The people sagged against the walls, unable to comprehend her quench, her thirst for blood. Their legs were shaking as if trying to hold a mountain on their shoulders.

"Got it?" Her tone was dark, yet awfully seductive. Out of their distress, they merely nodded- and with that- The Shadow left the tavern, leaving the door ajar, and destruction in her wake.