Honor be damned. This was about revenge.
Even the slightest glimpse of the memory
Brought back the waves of rage he had felt that day. Held back by those he called brother, forced to watch. For honor.
Laid out there for all to see in the courtyard. Guts a vivid red painting on the white pebbles. A circle of peers standing in judgement with leering gazes. The man whom he had considered a father, whom he had loved and respected beyond words, discarded like an old doll.
Jealousy.
That was what had sealed his 'fathers' fate. Success through service. His refusal to show another face, to be many things, the burr in the circles shoe. Loyalty the sharp edge that finally sliced his belly and bled crimson life into the earth.
Tonight, they were to experience another burr in their shoe. Bleed crimson. Cry mournful howls into the darkness. As loyalty reared it's head again.
Orange turned to purple, dipping into the blues and finally black.
The time was set.
Face covered in dull gray
Clothed in tones just off of black, he slid the final piece of the puzzle into it's scabbard. He could not help but smile. Feral, all white, cheeks rigid. Tonight, revenge would be had. A debt would be paid.
The streets were quiet. When night fell the people retreated. Darkness brought fear. And with good reason. Law was lawless, money the rule of the land. In-between times, from golden era to another, this was the dusk of one.
Building to building, shadow flitting in the thin sliver of a hidden moon. The place was not far. He had planned well. A special night with much drink and revelry. They gathered to plan the future of the coming kingdom. Their golden era. So they celebrated. Words never committed to paper, the schemes lived only within them.
His hand gently slid the first window back.
The soft sound of wood sliding on wood revealing only his eyes as the single lamp inside the room burned. In a moment the light was snuffed, and again he faded into darkness. To business. To revenge.
Six of them in all. An unnamed council to the ruling lord. Once seven, they were the right hand of a ruthless yet good ruler. Evil had crept in, turning the white of their badges black. Motives shifted and the course of the future had changed. The head that once led, a desire to bring their world forward, corrupted. The last dam removed before the coming flood of evil.
One.
Half on, half off his mat, a scream died in a throat torn open to the room. No light to gaze upon the world one last time.
Two.
Through the back and into the heart. Face into a soft pillow. Too good of a way for such to die.
Three. Four.
They were finishing the last cups of a sweet wine. Laughter filled the room. Garrulous and cold. Power was within their grasp. To hold tightly and lord over others. Plans almost to fruition. Just one more step. The light revealed to them another fate as he slid the door open in a smooth movement. Two delicate flicks and the tap was set. Shock lit their faces as cup and bottle were refilled with their own flavor of red.
Five.
He sat in his room. Ready. This night no surprise. Since that day, since he had seen that look in those pointed eyes. Fury like that could no be restrained by anything, not even the gods, least of all by those around him. Sword by his side he locked eyes with his fate. In a blink they were together, edges scrapping, seeking soft corners. Sliding to the side, swinging, sparks, dodging underneath, forward with sword extended, sparks, circling. Breath after breath, each a possible last. Power and it's price. One struggling to unbalance, the other to restore. Then the moment and eternal sleep. No more restless nights waiting for his punishment.
Six.
The room was empty. He stood staring, ragged, willing another truth. His chance spent, he read the note that was waiting. The words were so unimportant that he laughed. The scrawling of a future despot justifying something that could not be reasoned with. He was not here for honor, goodness, power, or anything those words begged to be understood for. He was here for revenge. And the fuel that fed those flames was far from spent.
He kicked the lamp over as he left the room.
The puzzle yet unfinished, he put away his sword knowing that it would not be long. The challenge greater for surprise was no longer an ally, the rage of missing this chance more than a match for the coming days. He would suffer for what he had done. It could have been quick, but now it would take time. The escape now sealing a tortuous fate. Entire forests would be fed by the life drained from that man. But, for now, rest. Tomorrow another hunt would begin.
To be continued.
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