Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 53

Felicia checked the door for traps and, finding none, tested the handle– easing it open a crack she checked for any of the now familiar wires. Side to side, bottom to top. Was she really that lucky? No, surely not. . . .and yet. Still, she pushed the door open as she dived to the side.

"Mph!" Someone gasped in surprise.

Curious, Felicia crouched down and peeked. A young woman around her age was bound to a chair, hands behind her back and a blindfold covering most of her face– a cloth handkerchief tied around her mouth kept her from articulating anything but something in her posture made it clear she wasn't exactly scared. Her clothes looked clean- new, even. How odd. . .

Was this the woman the old man had been talking about?

Crash! Glass shattered in the next room. A second later something heavy thudded in the hall. Then more thuds followed– Felicia ducked into the room and braced herself against the opposite side of the doorway as the staccato pounding in the hall blasted the entire house with sound. If there was any chance their 'host' had lost them, Lostariel had ensured that was right out the proverbial window. Through it all, and eerily enough, the woman in the chair didn't flinch or startle; she sat there as though it was a regular evening occurrence to have a potential rescue go completely sideways.

Felicia opened her mouth to reassure the woman, to tell her it was going to be okay– but she stopped there, puzzled by the reaction. Something was wrong here and she couldn't place a finger on it. Maybe she was deaf, maybe she was just shocked– something wasn't right.

Instead of doing what she'd come to do, the young plains walker eased back to her spot against the wall, clutching the elder's kukri to her chest, waiting for the inevitable. The killer would come, Lostariel would dispatch him– gods, they had done so little planning going into this. What would come of Sarah if they were captured? What'd come of them if they were captured? A million thoughts ran through her mind as her heart started to beat faster and faster to keep pace. Every little thing they'd done had lead to this, and here they were against Lostariel's training and reacting to what was being thrown at them rather than setting the tone. It wasn't like Felicia was a killer, but this man was, it was obvious, and she didn't even know who he was or why he'd wand to hurt them!

All she wanted was her stuff, and maybe Lostariel not killing another person on her behalf.

That wasn't so much to ask, was it?

It was almost as though fate was answering her when she heard a door unlatch directly opposite her hidey-hole. In the middle of the gallery an inset panel she'd not seen slid inward and swung on a track out of the way. A gaping abyss of shadow lay beyond. A second later a disk the size of a tea saucer burst from the doorway, skidding across the floor right through the chamber into the hall beyond. A beat passed.

BOOM.

That got the woman to startle. She and Felicia both. But in that prelude to surprise and violence, Felicia learned a lot about the kind of person they were dealing with; he erupted from the shadows with a dagger in both hands and a rich looking doublet that couldn't hide the armor plates bulking it out, his trousers followed a similar theme and yet for all his presentation. He was quick. Damn quick. And damn silent. Darting right for the hall where Lostariel had trapped herself to get the drop on him–

Exposing herself meant a sure death– but they weren't prepared. Not for this.

She was Felicia's friend.

What about the hostage? He hadn't hurt her so far–

Felicia wasn't trained for this.

Female hunters didn't fight the beasts of the plains, they misdirected, they distracted, they ran.

This wasn't the plains. "He's coming!" She shouted even as she bolted for the door out of the hallway. She actually saw him halt at the entry to the Lostariel's side of the hall, just shy of the frame, he looked towards her and a multitude of things seemed to register in an instant. There was no time for self-congratulations on Felicia's part, though, as he took off after her. In three steps he cleared most of the distance between them. Felicia surged forward, diving for the stairs in an attempt to keep something between them. A vain hope, but her only one.

That it put his back to Lostariel could only help her case. In theory.

They plowed down the stairs taking several at a time, crashing into the landing like rocks finding the bottom of a gorge, Felicia took her lead for all it was worth and charged forward down the trap laden hall, pumping her arms for every inch of distance she could get. She had a fair bit of it, enough to almost feel 'safe'.

Until she felt her foot press into something that gave.

A 'snick' and she was diving for the corner she knew to be safe. She launched and tucked into a ball, slamming into the wood paneling head first. Painfully she righted herself to all fours, already scrambling to find her footing, looking back for her pursuer. He was nowhere to be seen but what she did see made her entire body seize. Tow planks of thin wood that'd been built into the paneling had cut a swath through the mid space in the hall at about knee level and now rested in the middle of the hall on some mechanism hidden in the wall.

They weren't sharp enough to cut, no, they were made to break bones– by the gods. Close. Way, too, close. Felicia hauled herself up and found a spot as free from potential danger as she could, listening carefully for a second, waiting, fearing the sounds of combat.

Then it struck her; she'd distracted him, Lostariel may well have run into his secret tunnel. That meant he'd have a very ugly choice to make– Felicia thought about going back for the hostage but she couldn't shake the feeling that going back upstairs was going to be suicide. Lostariel trained for years to do what she was doing, and if he thought he could use Felicia as leverage–

Yes, you never sacrificed the food you won from a hunt to save a hunter. You trusted them to return to the village. She looked around. But where was her village here? The hall they'd seen one another in? It was as good a place as any, but would she go there?

Felicia sucked air through her teeth. It was her best shot, she had to be pragmatic about this if she hoped to survive. That was what Lostariel would've wanted.

Something crashed in the room above. Thump, thump, thump came the quick hammering of running feet right over the corner above her. Felicia looked up as plaster flakes drizzled from the ceiling. A beat later she turned to follow the sound as best she could. The secret passage ran the length of the hall and whoever was in a panic did, too, making it easy to keep track. They took a sharp left turn and the muffled sounds of their footfalls quickly died off, replaced a moment later by a quick but much quieter shuffle.

And then there was Felicia, left in the hall full of traps. Alone. She glanced back, wondering if she'd be able to save the girl before the killers found their way down to her– if indeed she wanted to be saved at all. She dampened her lips. Wondering. Fearing.

It'd be suicide. Wouldn't it? Yes. Yes, it would.

But that old man–

A blur of movement caught her attention from the end of the hall. A black smear across her peripheral vision racing for the stairs down to the first level. Lostariel. Shit.

Felicia sprang into a run after her friend. But where was the man? Felicia stopped just shy of the door Lostariel had come from, peeked. The bedroom beyond was empty– though she noticed, it looked completely set up to appear as though someone was sleeping in the four post bed. A section of the wall was open inward with a softly glowing crystal lamp inside casting odd shadows.

Knowing she'd never get anywhere standing put, she jogged down the stairs towards Lostariel, who'd somehow managed to disappear from view in the grand hall. There were markers of her presence, though– foot prints in the carpet. Speckles of blood shining against the wine colored plush. Felicia followed them down the lazy wind of stairs, around the side banister, she paused when she saw the trail end in front of a wooden wall panel. "Lostariel?" She whispered.

She didn't even finish the second L before a hand was wrapped around her throat from behind– weight shoved her forward, a shoulder slammed into her back sending her forward. A knife at the base of her spine told her not to move. She threw up her hands to brace herself and show her passivity– for all the good it did. The man held her there firmly, shoving her face into the wood until she thought for sure her nose was going to break.

"Lostariel! Oh, Lostariel! Where for art thou!?" He bellowed. When no reply came, he turned back to his prey, whispering. "I guess she's not coming."

"Ngh–"

"Ah, ah, ah. Not a word." The blade dug into her spine. "You think she's going to come for you?"

"I might surprise both of us." Lostariel said coldly from Felicia's right. She felt the man's hand tense around her neck. The two killers stood silent for a moment, then the man started easing his weight to the left. Preparation for something. Evasion, maybe. Lostariel's voice was calm and confident throughout, as though she'd already read the situation and decided on a course of action. "Let the girl go, she's not part of this."

"My friend would disagree."

"Your friend will join you soon enough."

Felicia groaned, tried to shift her weight. The man tightened his grip. "You really aren't good at negotiation!" She muttered. "He's got a blade to my back!"

The man didn't relent in the slightest. "What kind of name is Lostariel, anyway? Hm? Some Free States gutter slut give you that? W–"

"I could be you." Lostariel cut him off. Felicia tried to get a better view of what was going on– the short woman had both blades out and her stance set in such a way that she had the tip of one blade against his trunk, the other higher. "You will call me the Ace of Diamonds. . . .it will be the last memory you hold if you draw a single drop of blood from her."

Felicia felt the knife sink in to her flesh. She screamed. He didn't get it in deep before Lostariel had her blade in him too. The two of them tumbled away, leaving Felicia to clutch her back and stagger to the side, whining loudly. She turned in time to see the man roll with Lostariel's blow, capturing her arm under his, about to drive his other blade into her throat.

It happened so fast there was no time to react or call out, to warn her friend, but Lostariel was already reacting; flowing like liquid from one stance to the next– right into the man's reach to diffuse some of his momentum even as she kneed him in the balls. That sent him staggering back from the impact but it didn't stop him. He spun both blades over so the points faced his opponent. They circled one another in the main hall like dancers in some sacred rite.

"You? You're the new Ace of Diamonds?"

Lostariel's eyes narrowed at the insult. She slid forward, blades raised. "A–"

"I trained the first Ace. Girl, you're nothing." He surged forward, Lostariel met him. Their weapons crashed together in a burst of violent blue sparks when their metals collided. It seemed to surprise Lostariel far more than the man, her eyes widened briefly. He pressed his advantage, moved to kick her in the stomach. "You come into my home, kill my men. . ."

His boot connected. Lostariel went sprawling back into a back flip that wound up kicking the man in the face. She pushed off of that into another surge. Faster, focused. Intentional. The two of them danced like lovers in the moonlight with steel and magic searing the evening's luminance with the promise of an end. Felicia could barely keep track of their movements, they were so fluid and determined that neither of them were distinguishable from the other– one pose would lead into another, a stab into a graceful turn about that would have one of them trying to plug new holes in the other's meat.

Lostariel was getting tired. Her actions more sluggish. She couldn't out wit the man, and she wasn't strong enough to beat him one on one. When she went to stab him Felicia saw a splotch of blood fling into his direction from her shoulder. Gods, she must have been in incredible pain–

Then it hit. Like a thunder clap of heaven's wrath for a life of sin and death: the man surged forward, punched her in the stomach with his dagger's butt and then in the moment's surprise, stabbed her. Hard. He lifted her off her feet even as she drove the tips of both her blades into his armored chest. To zero useful effect. Lostariel screamed in pain and anger, genuine furious rage spat through a mouth of blood into the face of her would be killer.

The man shoved her down onto her back, dagger still buried to the hilt in her. He laughed at her. Long. Hard. Vapid and forlorn. "You. . ." he huffed, staggering as the adrenaline started to wane; his victory secured. "Stupid. Girl. Do you have any idea how long I've– I've been alive? I'm not going to let some runt like you. . ."

"H- Hey!" Felicia swallowed. "Don't hurt her!" She tried to move for her friend but he held her at bay with his dagger clutched tightly.

He groaned. "Oh give me a break. Let me enjoy this. It's been so long since I've had a challenge." His tired, angry eyes flit to the plains walker, but quickly and dismissively, back to his prey. She was staring at him, struggling just to breathe, trembling in a growing pool of her own blood. "I trained her. . ."

Another huff and he spat to the side. His wounds were starting to wear on him, a lot of gashes in his arms and upper thighs drizzled into growing splotches. Second by second they were expanding, much like Lostariel's death pool. "Ninety years! And what do I wait for? This?" He spat on Listariel.

Felicia charged. She rammed right into him and bowled him over. He was quick to recover but she didn't care, she threw herself over Lostariel protectively. "You can't! You attacked us! We just wanted our stuff!"

He growled. "Your stuff? Girl, I'll give you what her mentor should've given her before she left the gods damned house." He stomped on Felicia's back- she arched upward against the strike to keep from pressing the dagger in. When he stomped on her again she screamed out.

"No!"

Lostariel. Beautiful, angry Lostariel, moved swiftly; she stabbed his ankle. The blade tore into ligaments and bone through one side and the other, spreading hot crimson over Felicia's back. He howled and started to fall. Felicia grabbed his other ankle to ensure he fell towards her. If she could just get his other blade–

But it appeared Lostariel had other ideas. She pushed Felicia forward into a heap atop the man– in their struggling, she crawled up the man's side. Felicia fought to avoid the bite of his weapon and managed to pin down his arm with her knee. She slammed her fists down on it again and again but it was Lostariel's blade that got him to let go when she opened a trench in his arm.

"Y- you trained. . . .h- her." The assassin whispered through clenched teeth. "It shows."

He flailed for the wound as Lostariel kept cutting- no, carving his arm. Felicia wanted to stop this but she was too late. Way, way, too late. Her only recourse was to pin down his other arm, but– gods, there was so much blood.

Lostariel gurgled a chuff. A hideously deformed laugh. "You do- don't value. What. You. Take." She stabbed his shoulder, collapsed down against his arm like an embrace. Spent. "This. . . this, is how a life is taken. . ." Her dark, clouded eyes looked up to Felicia. Some unspoken question there, waiting for an answer. Waiting for hope. Condemnation.

Felicia had nothing left in her, no words, no thoughts, no emotions– she was numb to the horror before her, the fading light in the man's eyes reflected what she felt inside. Swirling down a dark abyss, knowing she was about to lose her friend as well as whatever might've remained of her own innocence. She had seen death, she had seen a lot of it, but nothing like this. Nothing his hateful and angry.

It wasn't done in silence, though.

Someone was. . . .clapping? Atop the middle of the stair case came a woman with sharp features and brilliant orange eyes. She had the look of a plains walker, with caramel skin and robust stature, a shock of brown hair braided over one shoulder of her expensive looking vest. She was too northern, too civilized. Arrogant. She clapped as her polished shoes clicked with every step. When she spoke her voice was rich and deep, resounding through the entire hall. "Well done, well done!"

Before Felicia could react, Lostariel was clawing at her leg. Her expression was one of fear- real fear. She took her cue from that and climbed back to crouch beside her friend. "W- What do you want?"

But the woman ignored her, striding over to the fallen assassin. She tutted softly, shaking her head. "So it goes. Hm?" She turned her tangerine stare to Lostariel. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned our contract, Ace."

Lostariel shuddered, opened her mouth but only blood came out. She clutched her stomach for all the good it would do to stem the viscus tide of black blood seeping from her body.

"I suppose you'll want this, then." The woman produced a blue vial from her pocket, smiling blithely. "We have unfinished business and since you're clearly still up to the job, I suppose we can call this a business expense." She blinked. For the first time she seemed to regard Felicia, a creeping grin on her sharp features. When she spoke next it was in the voice of the old man Felicia had met in the tavern. "I'm sure if I had a daughter she'd appreciate you coming out here for her."

"Y- You– you?"

The woman smiled wolfishly. "I had to get you out here somehow, didn't I?"

"You- you maniac! She's not dying for you!" Felicia hoped up, launched off for the vial. The woman stopped her cold without so much as flinching. She hefted the girl off her feet with as much effort as one would lift a pebble. Her hand tightened. Nails dug into Felicia's throat.

"N- o-" Lostariel said hoarsely.

"No? Since when do you care about some idiot peasant?"

Even as those words came out Felicia clawed and scratched, kicked ineffectually at the tightening. It had to have looked insane, or pathetic, but in every passing second she could feel her body growing hotter. Furious heat boiling up in her skull, spreading out from there.

"M- My. . . .succ-ess–"

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up!" Those orange eyes turned up to Felicia. "What do you think, girl? Do you think you're brave enough to die for her? Hm?" Then her grip relented, she slowly let Felicia down. "That's what I thought. . ." She tossed the vial beside Lostariel. "I expect you to finish the work for which you were contracted."

"T- The no-bles. Are dead." Lostariel scrabbled for the life saving potion. She ripped the cork free and drank deeply until it was empty, slumping her body down over the cooling corpse of their would be killer. All the while the strange woman watched, smiling, knowing she was in no danger. "I– am close to Sarah."

"Mmm, is that right? I suggest you get closer, or we'll have another one of these talks and nobody wants that, do they?" A brief glance at Felicia. "Of course not."

"You orchestrated all of this?" Felicia balked. "You're–"

The woman interrupted using Felicia's native language to accent her point. It was precise, sharp, completely unaccented. "If you think what the gods have done to your homeland is anything compared to what is coming, you'll find yourself in for a rude awakening. You might say I am motivated."