FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE (23 page)

     “Sir, I was just wondering. Can we do an emergency conscription of the local civilians
?
” she answered.

     “You mean to forcefully recruit able-bodied men and women from Timberstock and get them to help us defend the fort
?
” asked the orgavian.

     “Yes, sir,” answered Convian Genox.

     “No
!
This would be illegal
!
And to ask for volunteers and train them will take us two months. That is not the time that we have
!
We shall have to manage on our own somehow,” explained Orgavian Deffs.

     “Understood, sir,” said the convian.

     “Get some rest
!
You are both dismissed
!
” said the orgavian.

     Both Convian Genox and Verallvian Sayson stood up and bowed. Orgavian Deffs replied their gesture. Then the two tired soldiers turned around and left their superior’s office. However, rest was not what they had in mind. They were thinking about the improvements that they could do to the fort’s defences and the best way to do them. So instead of getting a long deserved meal or some well needed sleep, they went about ordering their subordinates into action. Time was precious to them, and every heartbeat of time not spent on strengthening the fort’s defences was time wasted.

     It is cloudless and rainless this night, the
11
th
Night of Second Month of Wet Season
. The waxing gibbous moon illuminates five masked figures who are jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Timberstock. The black clothing that they wear helps them blend into the shadows. And the swords that they carry on their backs give a hint of their purpose.

     On the other side of town, Spirit gives a low, soft growl. The white wolf sees his prey clearly, all five of them. Ray can barely make them out. He grabs his silver staff, taps Lance gently on the shoulder, points to Lance’s sword and rushes out the door. Spirit bolts out after Ray. Lance grabs his sword and rushes out the door after the both of them. The whole urgency of the matter is shocking and confusing to him.

     A quarter of an hour later, the masked figures reach their destination, a medium sized double storey mansion in the middle of town. Silently, they jump over the mansion’s simple wooden fence and crouch-run pass its green lawn. A servian-ranked Provincial Guard patrols the front of the mansion. He hears a soft muffled sound behind him, so he turns around to investigate. Suddenly, a hand presses against his mouth and the sharp tip of a sword pierces his breastplate from behind. The sword goes in with much difficulty, but goes in it does. The soldier’s eyes bulge from the shock and he tries to scream, but all that he manages to produce is a muffled sound.

     A female masked figure pulls her sword out of the dead servian’s body. She flicks her sword downwards and to the side to shake off the dead servian’s blood, and then returns it to its scabbard. Two male masked figures position themselves directly below the window of the master bedroom that is located on the first floor. They lean themselves against the wall and lock their arms together to form a solid base. A male masked figure climbs on top of them and stands with his legs on each of their shoulders, forming a human ladder. The remaining male masked figure stands guard, protecting the human ladder. The female masked figure then climbs this human ladder with relative ease and slips gracefully through the open window into the master bedroom.

     Inside the bedroom, two elderly figures lay asleep, a male and a female. The female masked figure gently pulls out her sword, approaches the bed and thrusts it down into the elderly male’s chest. The victim’s body convulses and he bleeds profusely, and yet hardly a moan is let out. The elderly female wakes up to find herself drenched in her husband’s blood. She stiffens with panic and sees in the masked figure the cold, emotionally detached stare of an assassin. In a blink of an eye, the female assassin disappears, leaving nothing behind except for a small rectangular piece of wood on the dead man’s chest. The carved and painted symbol on the piece of wood shows a silver sword set vertically inside a black circle, which in turn, is set inside a larger, golden circle. It is the symbol of the Shadow Deathmerchant Clan.

     The female assassin’s four accomplices catch her as she jumps from the bedroom window, breaking her fall. Within a matter of moments, all five assassins run off and disappear down the dimly lit streets of Timberstock.

     Ray, Lance and Spirit run as fast as they can, guided by Spirit’s keen eyesight and sense of smell. A few moments later, they see the fleeing assassins manoeuvring gracefully on the rooftops. The rearmost assassin notices them and throws a star-shaped metallic object at Ray. Ray thrusts a finger at the ground in front of him and swings his finger upwards. Immediately, a block of hardened earth the width of an arms’ length, the height of four arms’ length and the thickness of a finger’s length rises up from the ground and shields Ray from the object. He then sidesteps past the block of hardened earth and continues to give chase. Lance and Spirit follow closely behind. Slowly but steadily, the trio closes the distance between them and the assassins.

     At the edge of the town, the rearmost assassin throws three star-shaped metallic objects at the trio. As the objects spinning towards them diverge, Ray has no choice but to raise another block of hardened earth twice the width of the previous one. Three heartbeats later, the trio sidestep the block of hardened earth and continue to give chase.

     Suddenly, a small but bright explosion occurs in front of the trio. Thick smoke obscures their view. The trio come to a halt. Spirit lets out a short, sharp bark. Ray instinctively rolls sideways on the ground. At this very instance, a sharp blade pierces the thick smoke right where Ray had been standing. A male assassin appears out of the smoke behind the sword. Ray swings his staff horizontally at the assassin’s knees, causing him to jump upwards and losing his attack tempo. As the assassin takes a few steps backward to re-assess the situation, Ray gets up on his feet and signals Lance to back away.

     Ray and the assassin stare each other in the eye. The assassin’s eyes portray the essence of a cruel, cold-blooded killer. Ray’s eyes reveal a fierce, vengeful determination. The assassin gives a slight bow of respect. Ray gives no bow in return. The assassin now knows that the ensuing duel between them will be
personal
, instead of professional.

     Ray moves forward slowly to close the distance between them. The assassin stands still in a side-facing stance with his right leg at the back. He points his sword at Ray’s throat. Ray stands in the same stance with his right leg at the back as well. He attacks first, stepping his right leg forward and swinging the right end of his staff horizontally from right to left in a Right Horizontal Strike so as to knock the assassin’s sword to the side. Then he thrusts the same end of his staff forward to try to smash the assassin’s face. The assassin slides diagonally backwards to his right to avoid Ray’s Straight Thrust and then steps forward with his right leg, raises his sword over his head from the side and swings it vertically down hard in a Vertical Downwards Cut to cut Ray’s head. Ray barely manages to step backwards with his right leg and swings the left end of his staff to parry the assassin’s downwards cut. The resultant clang deafens the ears as the metals make contact. The assassin steps backwards with his right leg by turning half a circle to his front and then slides his right leg and then his entire body further back to put more distance between him and Ray.

     Both combatants are now back at their original stance. The assassin attacks by stepping forward with his right leg and swings the side of his blade horizontally from right to left to knock Ray’s staff sideways and expose the back of Ray’s left wrist. He then swings his sword upward slightly while bringing it back to centre and then chops down on the exposed back of Ray’s left wrist. Ray, caught by surprise, barely manages to pull his left wrist in towards his body while sliding his right leg diagonally backwards and to the right, thus avoiding the assassin’s cut.

     But almost instantaneously, Ray swings his staff slightly upwards and then slams it down on the back of the assassin’s blade, knocking it momentarily out of balance. Seizing this opportunity, Ray slides his left leg forward and thrusts the left end of his staff into the assassin’s chest. The assassin shouts out in pain and stumbles backwards slightly. Once again stepping forward with his right leg, Ray delivers a Right Horizontal Strike and smashes the assassin’s left cheek. The assassin falls to the ground but manages to roll away. He then pulls out a star-shaped object and throws it at Ray. Ray has no choice but to pull his staff close to his body and place it vertically to protect himself. Then the assassin throws some black, pebble-sized spheres to the ground, causing a bright explosion with lots of smoke.

     Then there was no one there. The assassin was gone. Even Spirit’s sensitive nose could not track him, as the pungent smell of the explosion had masked his scent. Lance looked at Ray as if to ask a question, but Ray replied before the question could be asked.

     “Assassin _ of him is of the Shadow Deathmerchant Clan,” said Ray.

     The hooting of an owl broke the uneasy silence that the trio were experiencing. They walked back to the inn in a downcast manner under the luminescence of the pale gibbous moon.

     The next morning, Timberstock was in a state of chaos, anger and confusion. Tempers flared and fistfights erupted everywhere. Most businesses were closed and soldiers were seen rushing from place to place, breaking up fights and restoring order.

     In the street just below the trio’s room, two angry mobs were converging. The colourful banners they carried were only matched by their raging temperament and the colour of their abusive language.

     “Murderers
!
  You’ve murdered him
!
  You’ve murdered Mayor Rehum
!
” accused the pro-Rehum mob, of which some had tears rolling down their cheeks but most were burning with anger.

     “Liars
!
  One of your people murdered him and put the blame on us,” replied the leader of the pro-Etner mob, veins bulging and eyes blood-shot red.

     “That’s ludicrous
!
  Why would any of us want to do that
!?
  One of your people murdered him
!
  Yes, that’s right
!
  What’s a little money to hire assassins when compared to all the money you’re going to get if Etner is elected mayor and you get to chop down ancient, priceless trees and sell them to the sawmill
?
What’s a little blood-spilling if it boosts the economy, right
!?
  Especially if it
boosts
the contents of your personal bank account, right
!?
” questioned one of the pro-Rehum mob rhetorically.

     “That old man wasn’t worth even a
single
coin to hire assassins for
!
He was so old, he probably would have died on Election Day
!
  Besides, all you tree-huggers are, shall we say, not right in the head. Maybe one of you hired the assassin to kill him, so that you could replace him with someone who is even more sympathetic to your cause and win some sympathy votes at the same time,” insinuated one of the pro-Etner mob.

     Several rounds of name-calling ensued and before long, a huge fistfight erupted. Screams of pain and anger echoed throughout the street, which was made wet and slippery by blood from broken noses, cut lips and ruptured gums caused by uprooted teeth. The colourful banners lay broken and blood-stained on the street. A dozen soldiers arrived just in time to load the mass of beaten up, bloodied and exhausted people into horse-drawn carts, and transport them to the local garrison’s prison cells. Ray could only shake his head at the ridiculousness of the situation.

     An hour later, the trio went out for breakfast. Luckily, there were still some food stalls open. And Lance managed to get his Elementhar’s uniforms from the tailor.

     At about noon on the same day in Windswept Forest, which lies southwest of Fort Eastguard, a pond of Provincial Guards came to rest near the bank of a slow flowing stream. They watered their horses and then tethered them to some trees nearby. The minvian-in-charge commanded her subordinates to set up sentry points to guard against attacks while they rested. Some of the soldiers unloaded cooking utensils and food while a few others searched for firewood. Unbeknownst to any of them, a Shadow Deathmerchant Clan assassin had trailed them since they left Fort Eastguard.

     The assassin gets off his horse, tethers it to a tree far away from the soldiers’ camp and creeps up to them using the bushes as cover. Stealthily, he pours an odourless and colourless liquid into the stream on the upstream side. Then he backs away slowly but stays close enough to witness the upcoming event. The soldiers who are not tasked with any duty, go to the stream and fill up their empty bamboo water containers. They take big gulps from them, quenching their thirst. The relief on their faces show, as the sweet tingling sensation of fresh mountain water spread throughout every part of their throats. The rays of sunlight breaking through amongst the leaves create a cheerful environment. The soldiers smile at one another. It is moments like these when they really enjoy the beauty of nature.