Umbra Pradicatio - 3

“Did you kill him?” a voice asked. It sounded distant, probably because I was only half-conscious. But it was clearly a male, and a gruff one at that.

                “No I didn’t kill him…I don’t think,” responded the all too familiar voice of the girl that attacked me earlier.

                “Variska…” the male sighed. What? Her name is Variska? I was ambushed by Variska?! Can I be unconscious again? I cracked an eye open, to which I instantly snapped shut; as it was too bright for me.

                “Shhh, I think he’s coming to! We never got to finish our ‘talk’,” she whispered. I mentally sighed in defeat. No point in hiding it now, I suppose. I moaned slightly and opened my eyes to barely more than a squint, still not being able to make out anything with the light in my eyes.

                “He’s still groggy from the chloroform. He probably won’t be able to speak clearly for like, twenty minutes. He’s so cute when he’s sleeping,” Variska explained. I’m really starting to hate her.

                “Well he certainly won’t be able to speak with that duct tape over his mouth…” the male stated flatly. I attempted to move my lips, only to find that they were in fact glued together by a thick strip of duct tape. Upon further evaluation, I found my hands were tied together behind my back, and my feet were also bound together. Perfect. I was starting to see shapes in the light, and could make out two figures, both dark in color. And from where I was, it appeared that I was lying on my back, with my head resting on something to prop it upward.

                “Right, because it was MY idea to tie him up.”

                “Shut up and be grateful I did. Remember the last one we were lenient with?” ‘Last one’? Do they do this regularly? I squeezed my eyes shut to readjust my vision to the light, and soon the picture took form. To my right, a slender panther woman with straight ebony hair hanging freely on the side of her head, and a black cloak with bright red trim along the edges draping her body was speaking to a large and muscled wolf warrior with dull grey fur and armor resembling that worn by Dragonspyrians – minus the oversaturation of dragon markings coating every visible square inch. Behind them was a stone fireplace lit, emitting a warm glow. To my right was what seemed to be a red velvet cushioned wall, which I soon discerned was in reality the back of the couch I had been laid on. The wall and ceiling were similar, in the sense that they both had been painted the same soothing shade of brown, which highlighted the comforting glow from the fireplace, but aside from this, I couldn’t see any more features of the room. I also noted that my coat was missing, and with it my sword. I cleared my throat (as best as any person with a duct tape gag could) and glanced at the panther. She noticed this and stalked towards me cautiously, stopping at the edge of the seat.

“Look who decided to wake up.” I rolled my eyes.

“Drakon, I can handle this one. Go…terrorize cops or something,” Variska ordered. A wicked smile grew across the wolf’s face, and he exited the room, evident by the abrupt door opening, and closing. The cat redirected her attention towards me, and I (unsuccessfully) sank back into the couch.

                “So you mentioned you’re an assassin. Who hired you?” she growled, her tone finally serious for once. I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

                “No one hired you? So you decided to kill me of your own volition.” I shook my head.

                “You aren’t here to kill me?” I nodded.

                “Interesting…” she whispered delicately. Her eyes widened.

                “So you must work for the King!” she exclaimed. I nodded furiously, hoping this information would lead to my freedom.

                “Prove it.” I pondered for a moment what would convince her that I was telling the truth. Then I remembered the royal emblem. All palace subjects have the royal coat of arms imprinted on them. I squired around a little until I was on my stomach, and motioned with my head for her to pull the collar of my shirt down; the emblem was located right under the neck. She looked gave me a confused ‘huh?’. I groaned, and tried to claw at the bottom of the back of my shirt with my restrained hands. I only managed to reveal part of the symbol, but Variska caught on and tugged it the rest of the way down, granted too forcefully. I choked as the fabric compressed my neck.

                “Mmmmppphh!” I coughed. She quickly released the shirt, and helped me turn back onto my back; assumingly satisfied with my testimony.

                “Sorry baby…here,” she apologized as she grabbed the edge of the tape covering my mouth. My eyes widened in fear.

                “Mmmmm! Mm-mm!” I pleaded unsuccessfully.

                “I’m not gonna lie, this’ll hurt like hell,” she said as she ripped the tape from my face. My lips and cheeks began to burn worse than…well imagine a burning fire. Now put that fire in Dragonspyre. In the lava. On the sun. Now magnify that by twelve. And then divide that by about 200, because I’m exaggerating. But it still stung terribly.

                “GAHHH!” I cried. I bit my tongue before I swore, nearly biting it clean off.

                “I warned you.” I glowered at her momentarily.

                “Just untie my hands.”

                “Not just yet, I’m not convinced I can trust you yet.”

                “And why is that?” I inquired. She giggled again.

                “Well I don’t even know your name, silly!”

                “Well I didn’t have time to introduce myself while you were attacking me. Sorry about that,” I spat. She leaned in closer and sat down on the couch next to me.

                “Well now we have plenty of time.”

                “What makes you so sure I can trust YOU? I mean, you did kidnap me without giving me a chance to speak.” She smiled disturbingly.

                “Be grateful I didn’t end you right there.”

                “Yup. Feeling real grateful right now,” I mumbled sarcastically, and gestured with my head to my current predicament; namely my ropes binding my wrists.

                “How about this: I ask you a question, and you answer. In turn, I’ll answer one from you. Deal?” she offered.

                “Fine.”

                “Alright. What’s your name, Mr. Assassin?” the panther asked as she dragged a clawed finger from my neck down to my stomach and back. I ignored it.

                “Wolf Deathbringer. Now, how the hell were you so strong before?” She smiled.

                “I’m an Umbra Incantator, silly!”

                “What’s that?”

                “That’s two questions.”

                “And yet not a single fuck is given.” She giggled at my response. Crazy girl.

                “You’ll find out when you’re older.”

                “I’m older than you think.” She smiled innocently.

                “Okay, my turn. First off, where do you come from?”

                “Avalon.”

                “Alrighty, now tell me about yourself.”

                “I don’t generally reveal my life story to my kidnapper.”

                “Well then today’s your lucky day. You get to do something you haven’t done before.”

                “And what’s that? Get raped?” she smiled deviously, and rubbed my chest. And then moved down to my stomach. And progressively got further down. I turned onto my side quickly, facing away from her.

                “Okay. I’ll keep playing your little game, but only if you keep your hands off,” I ordered. She looked disappointed, but nodded. I turned back onto my back, wincing when I landed on my left hand, which I found was bandaged over the wound my sword caused.

                “I was born in Avalon, but studied the school of Death at Dragonspyre Academy. To make a long story short, I saved the King’s life, so he offered me a job as a royal assassin. And over the years, I worked my way up to captain. Happy?”

                “Very. Now what does the King want?”

                “He’s heard about the lost members of the expedition into the Tomb of Skarov reappearing, and he thinks you know something about it. And to be honest, I think you do, too.” Variska stiffened, and exhaled regretfully.

                “Well, you’re both right. I-”

                “Wait,” I cut her off. I smelt something. Like…gasoline.

                “What is i-” I sat upright, and covered her mouth with my hands.

                “We need to get out,” I whispered. She tensed.

                “Why?” the feline asked me.

                “You like fire? There’s about to be a lot of it.”

                “How do you know?”

                “You asked the wrong questions,” I said with a smirk, and winked at the panther. She looked a little nervous; however unnoticeable.

                “Quickly, untie my wrists,” I commanded as I held my wrists out to her.

                “There’s a knife in my boot, use-”

                “This knife?” the girl asked with a smile as she produced my dagger that I thought was hidden in my boot.

                “When did you get that?”

                “Right after I floored you. Aren’t tails handy?” She began sawing at the rope with the blade, and eventually freed my hands, shortly followed by my feet. I quickly grasped my wrists, wincing at the deep indentations they left on my skin.

                “Quick, where’s my coat?” I asked. The scent grew more prominent. I needed an escape, and I still wasn’t exactly sure where we were. Although given the fact that I arrived in Marleybone at about seven, and I’ve been out for about five hours, it was roughly noon, and still dark out. So at least we were still in Marleybone.

                “Is this really the time to be worried about your vanity?”

                “Do you want to die?”

                “Over there,” Variska said as she pointed toward the piece of clothing in question hanging over the back of a wooden chair pushed in under an oaken desk. I put it on, and scanned the room frantically. I spotted a window behind where my head was resting on the couch. Perfect. I grabbed the cat’s hand and dragged her towards the window, then turned towards her when we got there.

                “How high up are we?”

“Like, twenty six floors.”

“Variska, do you trust me?” I asked. She paused, caught off guard by the sudden question.

                “Not really,” she replied shakily. I smirked.

                “Perfect. It’s more fun that way,” I whispered. I pulled my foot back, and swung it forward with enough force to shatter the glass, sending shards flying outward, and falling down to the streets below.

                “What are you-” she stopped as I grasped her hands and pulled her out the window with me as I jumped, plunging into darkness.

                “Are you insane?!” she screamed in horror as we plummeted.

                “Yes! Now shut up and get ready!” I yelled over the wind whipping around us. I stuck my index finger and middle finger in my mouth, and let out a shrill whistle. Within seconds, Variska and I went from plummeting to our deaths, to being atop Shovel and flying over the rooftops of Marleybone.

                “Oh my God…” the cat choked out, barely about to speak over her fear.

                “Now tell me, do you have anything important in that apartment?” I asked. She looked puzzled.

                “Well not necessarily. Why?” I pointed to the window we had just jumped out of.

                “What am I-” All at once, a deafening boom erupted from the gaping hole that was seconds ago the window we escaped from. Variska gaped. She was silent for a few moments, and then realized something.

                “How the hell did your coat help us?!”

                “When did I say it would help you?”

                “You said if you didn’t have it, we’d die.”

                “I said you’d die.”

                “And why is that?”

                “I’d kill you for losing it.” I glanced downward, and saw something strange. It appeared a dog was running from the building we had escaped from, carrying some type of device. I disregarded it as unimportant and continued flight.

We flew for several more hours in uncomfortable silence following that, before Noctis (the world upon which Palace Luminosa is built on) came into view. I felt Variska tense as we landed, a sense of foreboding evident in the way she dismounted and scanned the area.

“Why are you so nervous?” I asked. Her head flicked up to face mine, as if startled.

“Huh? Oh, no reason…” Such a liar. I decided not to press her about it, however. She’s stressed enough as it is.

I returned Shovel to the stables, before taking Variska to see the King. As we entered the throne room, I could see Variska shiver slightly. Why was she so nervous?

“Mr. Deathbringer, what in the worlds took you so long?!” Rokaria screamed. I cringed at the harsh tone he was taking, then bowed.

“My deepest apologies sire. There were…complications,” I explained as I glanced at Variska. She nervously smiled.

“Well let’s hope they worked out. Variska, you stay here; we need to talk. Mr. Deathbringer, you are dismissed. I’ll call you in if I required your assistance again.” I nodded and turned to walk out. I could feel Variska’s gaze drilling holes into the back of my head as I exited, up to the point the immense oak doors closed behind me. To be honest, this was a very anti-climactic mission. I expected more…closure. Oh well. I trekked through the palace corridors until I came to my room in the living quarters wing of the immense structure; my room was on the top floor overlooking the ocean of stars linking this world to the next…a truly beautiful sight to behold every day. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned. For a guy who jest spent five hours unconscious, I was fucking tired. I unlocked the door to my room, entered, closed and locked it behind me, and sighed in relief as I glanced at my dwellings. I never really acknowledged how fortunate I was; going from what I was before, to virtual nobility. Sure, the perks of living in a palace were fine, but it’s my personal confines I loved the most. A decent twenty-by-twenty foot room, with a king-sized bed, caped with ebony black sheets and raven-down pillows. Directly across from that was an ornate oaken desk sitting underneath my view of the Spiral Sea, which was scattered with various hit lists and wanted posters from ‘concerned’ citizens. And thank you for perpetuating the stereotype that I just go out and kill everyone who crosses me. That only happened like, once. I removed my jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, followed by my shirt which I threw on the floor near the entrance to the bathroom; too tired to deal with it. I kicked off my boots and collapsed onto my bed; the fabric cradling my bare chest so soothingly I was out like a light within five minutes.

I’ll learn to never do that again.