Shilon

. . . .Flashback. . . .
The bodies of three peasants lay lifeless in the morning forest mud. A young peasant girl of sixteen clutched tightly the hand of a younger peasant girl that could not have been older than four. They were being tossed about by several armored soldiers bearing the marks of Bartholomew’s Jerican soldiers. The Jerican captain laughed as the older girl was cast, by the hair, to the next soldier to abuse. The younger girl lost her grip from her sister’s hand and fell into the mud being dehydrated and fatigued from the long run her and her late family had just endured. They had been running the entire day trying to escape the Jerican teams that had been executing peasants from the small village of Pineville.

The older girl screamed in desperation, as tears poured down her eyes. “Please, stop! Please don’t hurt us! We didn’t do anything! Please… Please st…t…” the older girl fell to the muddy floor next to her younger sister.

The young girl inched her head up to see her older sister, eyes closed, in an ageless sleep. The young girl was then pulled up by her back collar to hang by her dress.

“Should I finish this one captain” The Jerican holding the girl called out.

The captain turned to face the young girl, and then turned to face away. “You know it is a shame that we had to destroy that village. I must say that the young ladies of the town were really quite pretty… in a country kind of way.” The captain began to walk away.

The Jerican called again “Sir? Would you like me to…”

The captain whipped around. “For all sakes, Damien, gut the girl and hurry up with it.” The captain turned back around and started to walk forward. He spoke to himself tauntingly, “They all come with high recommendations from Lord Chappmen... high recommendations my wart. This is supposed to be the secret service of Bartholomew, but its turning out to be…” The mud a few meters in front of the Captain splashed loudly. The Captain stopped talking and shot his gaze up.

A large, middle aged man, clad in muddied peasant wear sat in a crouching position about fifteen yards in front of the captain. His face was pale, with dark brown eyes set on the captain. The figure rose slowly to a standing position.

The captain stumbled back in surprise. He arched his head toward his troops. “It looks like we didn’t kill them all off afterward.” He laughed and unsheathed his sword. “I’m sorry sir, its nothing personal,” He turned his head back towards the large man. “but you’re…” The captain was caught short by an arrow flying through his open mouth. The inertia sent him flat on his back with a splash.

The other Jerican soldiers drew their swords quickly from their sheathes, as they realized that their lives were in danger. The Jerican, Damien, threw the young terrified girl to the ground. They moved into a semi-circle around the intruder.

The large man set the bow, he had recently used, against a close tree. He then took off his scraggly wool shirt he was wearing, revealing a steel studded vest that harbored over a dozen small daggers in leather straps. He then removed two particularly long knife blades from two small sheathes strapped against his back.

The Jerican soldiers entered a standard imperial attack stance, holding their blades out in front of them and positioning one foot in front of the other. They held their positions around the weapon clad man.

The Man focused smoothly moved his gaze from one soldier to the next. He open his chapped lips and uttered, “I am peace.” He lunged at the Jerican at the right tip of the semi-circle. He used his left knife to block a downward stroke and his right to leave a long, deep, fatal gash up the Jerican’s abdomen and chest. He then kicked off the falling soldier, launching himself at the soldier at the opposite end of the semi-circle. He landed, rolled and delivered a low, horizontal swipe with both blades to the targeted Jerican’s legs, causing the soldier to collapse to the ground. The man sheathed his long knives and then cast a dagger from his vest to the fallen soldier’s chest and another to the next closest Jerican’s skull. He paused. “I am death.” Seven Jerican remained. He ran at the Jerican in the center of the semi-circle. The soldier brought down his sword in a vertical swipe, but the attacker dodged to the right and grabbed the soldier’s arm. By using a small dagger, he obtained control of the soldier’s blade by thrusting the dagger in to the Jerican’s hand. He then brought the sword into contact with the soldier’s nose with two crunching blows. The Jerican next in line to the right’s attack was caught short by a horizontal slash across the abdomen. The attacker used the Jerican style sword to cut down the next soldier while calling out, “I am justice!”

The two Jericans now on the edge of the Semi-circle took off in opposite directions into the woods.

The middle age assassin slipped his sword diagonally through his next target’s collar bone. He then parried an attack by Damien by kicking him in the face. He left his Jerican sword in his downed opponent’s chest and seized several daggers from his vest and sent them flying into one of the escaping soldiers. He whipped around to watch as the other retreating Jerican ran out of his range of his knives.

The soldier dropped to the muddy forest floor shortly after with a thick black arrow in his back.

The middle aged man set his bow once again against a nearby tree. He then walked back to Damien who was out cold. The assassin seized Damien by the collar and stuffed a piece of paper down his shirt. He then threw the Jerican back to the ground.

The assassin turned to walk away when the young girl, from the Jerican raid, broke his assent. She had stood observing the entire encounter. She had an expression of near curiosity on her face. She wobbled toward the man, who stood completely still like an animal trying to hide its presence from a predator. She stopped at the man’s feet and held her hands up to his pant leg. She gripped the wet fabric and looked up blankly into the eyes of the large man.

The man then took the girl’s hand and lowered himself into a crouch. He then picked up the girl and stood up. He began again to walk away with the girl held firmly in his arms.

“My name is Chanielle.”

The man looked back down into the girl’s eyes. “My name… is Shilon.”