Archives: New Marmo Republic
Chapter 14: Assassination Attempt
As Sevrina strode across the rocks, she felt as if she were being watched for a moment. The dark elf froze and crouched down, looking about for a spy. There was no one she could sense, and after waiting a moment, she gave up on discovering the source of the eerie feeling. She wasn’t on the best of terms with Gnome, or most elementals, to fully recognize their presence. As a precaution, she turned to a spirit she was familiar with. “Spirits of invisibility, let thy form become my form,” she summoned softly. Once the familiar cloak of invisibility settled over her, she moved on.
* * *
Grennith strode upon the stony steppes, his own feet carrying a motive. Shale followed behind, his body surprisingly able. For Shale, the first thing to do would be to inform his fellow commanders, but that was not of the Weaponsmaster’s concerns. Though he was interested in the preservation of their lives, he hoped that the easier that it was for this assassin to reach her target, the easier he would be able to catch her unprepared. Alternatively, a powerful assassin such as her was an enigma in coming to the Triumvirate. While it would be of no surprise that some kind of killer would be sent for the leaders of Grennith’s united tribes, someone of her caliber would most likely be outside the price range of the scavengers that dare fight back. No. This assassin came from without. Just as he did.
“I am having trouble sensing her. Most certainly, he knows the spirits of the sands watch her. She is hiding herself now. I must be telling Toumas...” Shale said, the camp just ahead.
“No,” Grennith replied softly, not looking back. “If Toumas is informed, then she will recognize his actions. I give her that much credit. If she knows anything of the Triumvirate, she will strike him first. He is the credited head.”
“We share that power,” Shale hissed, offended.
“In function. But in the eyes of the people know Toumas more singularly. He is also the easiest for her to take the life of. He’s a bowman, not a fighter. Lok might hold his own, you might sense her coming. Toumas won’t have his advantages with her.”
Shale shook his head. “You play with fire, child.”
Grennith stopped, just a few moments from the edge of camp. “Our advantage is not that we outnumber her, nor our skills. In this, neither matters. Our advantage is knowledge that she does not have.”
Shale sighed. “I wonder just how much she does know.”
“We shall see when our blades meet whether she knows of my presence.”
The two of them headed into the midst of camp fires and chatting just as Sevrina came to the slopes up to the plateau that the Triumvirate’s camp lay on...
* * *
As Sevrina approached the camp, she recognized a dark elf and a human man walking into the camp. The dark elves in this community could be a risk to her stealth, which she realized early on, but she didn’t doubt her ability to handle them. Summoning spirits took time, time that provided her an opportunity. It was always a gamble when dealing with other elves. Sevrina’s path veered off the main oft-used trail leading into camp, putting some distance between herself and the other dark elf. She had a good idea where to find the leaders. It was possible that the dark elf she saw on the way in was one of her targets, but this was not the time to strike.
* * *
The two companions entered the core of the camp, both of them certain of what would come. Once they were safely out of anyone’s earshot, Grennith stopped the shaman. “Keep close to me. Focus as much as you can on keeping track of her location. I want to be in between her and whoever she picks first. As soon as she reveals herself, I want you to get away.”
“I am not a new born, weaponsmaster,” Shale hissed. “I have slain many.”
“You are too easy a target close up. Leave the assassin to me. Once she realizes what I am, which someone as old as she will know, she will make her choice. A smart assassin would attempt to bypass me for the targets. She would be stupid or insane to choose to fight me instead, but its plausible. Preferable, in fact.” Grennith checked the short sword in his free hand. It was his weapon of choice for such a foe. Anything longer would be unwieldy in the type of combat he expected to engage her in. Though, should she choose a more ranged approach, it was easier to throw at her as well.
“Very well. Your wisdom guides us.”
Grennith didn’t respond, but turned to enter the main circle of the camp, where Lok and Toumas celebrated with their men. It was wide open space, but all of the officers of the newly formed Triumvirate regiment had gathered. Shale followed tightly behind, his mind in exchange with Gnome. “The spirits tell me of where her feet have left marks. They see the trail arcing around the camp,” Shale whispered, his hand, half hidden in his robes, pointing.
“Gren! Shale!” Lok bellowed from a table as the two approached Toumas. “You brought the blackie! Hah! He could use a bit of flesh on ’im eh?” Lok’s words brought a series of laughs and cheers. Toumas clapped appreciatively.
Grennith placed himself right in between the path Sevrina was taking and Toumas, standing aside him like a regular soldier. Though his garb was not tribal at all, but of a strict military caliber, they appeared more as friends.
“You look troubled, friend,” Toumas Auster said, placing a hand on the weaponsmaster’s shoulder. “I’d offer you a drink, but you always decline.”
“I have news, but it can wait,” Grennith replied quietly. “I shall tell you later in the evening. I am still thinking on the matter.”
“Quite the mysterious one, you always are. How are you, Shale?”
Shale didn’t respond, but Grennith stepped in. “He is surveying your next move. We were discussing options and he is looking for a new one. Shale found that the well is still too low for the camp to relocate southeast. Since our foes stand North and East, he is considering a new spot that was too volatile previously, but now stands safe. He says it looks promising.”
Auster nodded his head thoughtfully. “Sure you don’t care to talk now about that news?”
“Of this, I am doubtless.”
* * *
Sevrina found her way to the center of camp, skirting around the hub activity. She picked all three of her marks out of the crowd, and since they had so many people surrounding them, she would have to sit and observe. The toll of being invisible so long was weighing on her though, and the dark elf was within range to sense her easily. He was certainly the one she had seen walking into camp, and the slim man who had been with him now stood between herself and Toumas. He certainly caught her interest, carrying so many swords, though he didn’t seem over confident. In fact, he seemed perfectly natural with them. He seemed to be held in high regard by the leaders as well.
The dark elf stood in the shadows beside a tent, observing for as long as she could stand. Her will to control the spirits was waning, and if she waited much longer, she could risk exposing herself further. If an opportunity didn’t present itself soon, she would need to return to her ‘camp’. Perhaps infiltrating the camp as a wanderer and using her looks to her advantage could get her closer to her target...
* * *
“... hah! Those wimps couldn’t break a twig with two rocks!” Lok bellowed, bashing a fist on the table. “The Shark Tribe is all talk! I took four of them at once. No scars from that one!”
“You’d think their target was big enough they might hit it!” called another to his side, bringing out cheers and laughter.
Toumas sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Its getting late. My wife’s not going to want to wait up for me any longer. I’m calling it a night.”
Grennith looked over at Toumas. The assassin hadn’t come out yet. Grennith wanted her here. “Lady Auster understands your commitment,” Grennith replied. “She has great patience.”
“I’m getting tired too. I certainly have no intention of walking in drunk and waking up Konta.”
Grennith looked to Shale and whispered something to him. Shale whispered back Sevrina’s location without looking one way or the other. Grennith didn’t either. She had been at it for a while. Waiting for separation, surely. Divide and conquer was only often quoted because it was successful, Grennith’s master always told him. Turning back to the figure head of the Triumvirate, Grennith swiftly thought of a way to stay there. “I still have things to discuss with you.”
“Walk with me to my home, Gren. We’ll talk on the way.” Toumas said, rising.
Grennith pulled off several of his swords, leaving on only the dagger and the short sword sheathed in his hand. “Hold onto these,” he said to Shale. “I will glance back right before I’m out of sight. Scratch your hair if she starts to move.”
Together, Toumas and a much lighter Grennith began to walk out of the center of the camp. As Grennith pulled away, he looked to Shale to see what she was doing...
As her first target began to move away, Sevrina gave a sigh of relief. It looked like this was the opportunity she was looking for. The invisible dark elf began to follow, slipping in between tents to catch up with Toumas. The curious looking swordsman was following him, but she didn’t doubt that she could take both humans with enough stealth.
Shale looked around, scratching his head as if he forgot something.
Grennith turned back to Toumas, his head hung low.
“May the spirits be kind to you, brother of the blade,” Shale whispered into the wind, before disappearing into the crowd.
“So, what is this bit of news, Gren?”
Grennith hadn’t planned that far ahead. As far as he was concerned, the news was, in fact, that there was an assassin in the camp looking for his head. Then again, he had never intended on waiting as long as he did. The assassin was smart to wait, though Grennith was far more familiar with the type that sought a public killing to prove a point. The guidance and wisdom of Shale was in his head. She was using invisibility. Surely she would be able to be silent, but she could not avoid leaving impressions on the ground. She could not stop the fact that her body pushed air around. Even as a boy, Grennith was forced to use every sense to detect his foe. No matter the wound to the senses, his skill should never falter. If one can see the way a man moves with his eyes, he should also know where the man’s sword is by the feel of the air, the sound of the swing, even the position of the feet. “Stay silent, Toumas Auster,” Grennith whispered.
“What? Why?”
“All shall be revealed in time.” Grennith slowed the pace of their stroll as they began to walk through the living space for the officers, a dead zone of the camp. They all celebrated in the center, so no one was around. But Grennith knew the space well; he had spent many days there. The hodge-podge of permanent buildings and elaborate tents made it almost like a piece of city, with little in the way of passages move through without rustling cloth or passing through piles of poorly balanced supplies. Every once in a while a side passage, but it was mostly columns. If the assassin came, there were only a few paths she could take. Unless her goal was to kill Auster’s entire family, it was the best opportunity for her to take him down quietly. But it was also Grennith’s best chance to see her coming in such an erratic camp.
“I don’t understand,” Toumas whispered. “First you ask me to talk, then not to.”
“I am listening to the night,” Grennith replied quietly. “Give me a moment to consider my words...” Now’s your chance, assassin... Take it.
Sevrina followed along, and once they seemed to be away from prying eyes, she was ready to strike. She couldn’t rely on her invisibility much longer, because as soon as she changed her focus to striking, she would lose control of the spirits. After waiting for so long, it took nearly all her will to hold them together. Now that she had the opportunity, she drew a pair of throwing daggers out of the top of her high gloves and with a flick of her wrist, sent them flying toward her target and his guard. As soon as they left her hand, she finally released the spirits, drew her daggers, and made a rush for Toumas. She didn’t expect the daggers to make a killing blow, but she was aiming to partially cripple both Grennith and possibly Toumas’s shoulders.
Grennith could feel them coming, could hear the daggers flying. With the focus of a man who could no longer even call himself that, Grennith shoved Toumas to the side while simultaneously drawing his short sword and meeting the assassin blade to blade. Toumas had hit the ground behind him, unscathed. Grennith stood between the assassin and shocked tribal leader. Sevrina had come with two daggers and Grennith had replied with a very old style of sword play that used his metallic sheath like a second weapon, blocking both of her blades and thrusting her back with surprising speed for a human. His technique was absolutely flawless, each and every inch movement maximized the potential of force. No armies or guilds could produce the skills that the strange, slim bodyguard had produced. The feminine warrior’s eyes looked forward without a single emotion to them. “Drop your weapons, assassin,” the lilting voice said. “You will not take this man.”
Sevrina hopped backwards after the counter attack, moving herself out of Grennith’s strike range. He was skilled and intimidating, but Sevrina was not one to give up so easily. Her job was to kill the Triumvirate leaders, but she wasn’t so devoted to her work as to pass up such an interesting opponent. “Make me,” she replied with a grin. Sevrina tossed the dagger in her left hand, changing her grip so she could use it to block, then stood firm, hoping he would strike at her.
Grennith shrugged, his body relaxed. “I have no interest in a battle, here or anywhere else.” The weaponsmaster looked his opponent over. “Its a shame, however. Your employers are misinformed.” Grennith took a gentle step back, not turning his back or readying his weapons. The hanging state of his arms was no more than a ruse, of course. Grennith was taught very carefully how to be prepared, no matter his position. His wrist was carefully positioned, his reflexes sharp, his blade arm slightly ahead of his sheath. Everything was on purpose. “Had they known better, they might have sent you after me instead. It is well known in this place that I am responsible for uniting these tribes and maintaining them.” In truth, Grennith didn’t think that. If the assassin needed a reason to face him, he hoped that it was enough.
The weaponsmaster took every second that he spoke to examine everything she had on her. Even the vaguest of imprints denoted the possibility of hidden weaponry. Her stance, the way her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her weapon, everything signified something. Everything gave him another detail to use against the assassin. Whether she was aware or not, Grennith had already made up some strategies to handle her. “If you have the desire to complete your employer’s will, then take my life. Otherwise, you have already surrendered.”
Sevrina smirked. If he was so important, then he was a target as well. The swordsman’s stance was relaxed, but she could only imagine he was remaining fluid to counter any attack she threw at him. “Very well then. I shall have to kill you as well,” the dark elf replied, nearly purring.
Blades up defensively, Sevrina darted forward for a direct conflict, intending to test his skill and speed. He used his sheath to block before, so she anticipated him to use it to his advantage again, either to block or strike. She came in for a strike aimed at his chest with her right dagger, but she was aware, and ready to react to whatever he did to counter her.
Grennith’s face remained blank as uncut stone. Even in the face of the assassin charging, it appeared as though Grennith was not concerned, angered, scared, or anything else for that matter. A gentle half turn at the last second was all it took to take her aim away from his chest and to his shoulder, something he was far more capable of defending. Drawing up his short sword, Grennith sought to see her blade skid right off of the flat side of his sword. The lack of a body, he hoped, would force her momentum to carry her forward just enough for him to spin around and tap her gently on her back with his sheath, as if this was nothing more than a training battle.
Once her opponent moved aside, there was no stopping her momentum, but she could use it to her advantage. To avoid an attack to her exposed back, Sevrina tumbled forward, and rolled back onto her feet, spinning to face the swordsman. While she was down, she had removed a pair of throwing knives from her boot tops with her forefingers. Still holding her blocking dagger downwards, with the slim metal sliver of a knife between her index and middle fingers, she flicked her wrist, sending the dagger at Grennith. Whether or not it hit, it could provide a distraction, and she still had the other hidden in her hand. As the dagger flew forward, she did as well for another strike.
Grennith hadn’t had the split second’s time to recognize the assassin’s movement for her throwing knives, so when she let one fly, there was no time to move, especially so close. The weaponsmaster had no choice but to receive the throwing dagger in his right shoulder, the arm that held the sword. The pain was something he recognized, but it was something a weaponsmaster was an expert at ignoring. Wounds were a fact of life that were inflicted upon him in training for no reason other than to build up an immense tolerance for the physical disabilities they caused and the horrid pain.
While Sevrina’s daggers were unexpected, her charge was. Letting her momentum carry her was no longer an option, so he adapted quickly. Taking a solid posture, Grennith brought up his wounded arm to come crashing down upon her fighting blade. The strike was designed to stop her in her tracks and to immediately commence a battery of attacks while simultaneously advancing on her. Without throwing herself out of his striking range completely, he intended to become so unexpectedly relentless that he would have to get a solid blow in somewhere...
As his arm came down on her blade, she knew she couldn’t retaliate fast enough with her other knife. The dark elf dropped, letting her momentum carry her forward as she slid between his legs on her knees, though the momentum only slid her shoulders in between his feet. Bracing herself on her elbows, she swung her hips up, throwing her knees into his lower back.
Unlike her previous attack, this one gave him plenty of time to react. Sliding like that took too much preparation, made it far too easy to read. Braced like that, she was a sitting duck. As soon as she came down, Grennith whipped one of his legs up and launching himself up into a spinning jump, just enough to carry him away from her knees. The momentum from the spin gave him the speed he needed to bring a swing with his sheath into full power, his target being her now exposed kidney. With his wrist pulled back, he snapped at the last second, adding extra force to the tip. A shot to the kidney at this speed was by no means deadly, but the amount of pain it would cause could be phenomenal...
Sevrina began to push herself up as Grennith moved, but she wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid the tap. A stab of pain shot through her kidney, but she had been trained to tolerate pain, and there was no time to writhe and suffer. The dark elf hit the ground and rolled to get out of his range, getting back on her feet in a crouch. Her breathe rasped as she fought the pain, waiting for it to subside while she waited for her opponent’s next attack. The swordsman was incredible, and she was unprepared. Against an opponent like this, offensive fighting was nigh on impossible. If she had her own sword, she would have stood a better chance with that range. Perhaps a better option would be to retreat or attempt to take out her target now, skirting around his guard.
Perhaps a retreat was the better choice, but Grennith would see none of it now. With a dagger in his shoulder, the fight was to go on until one of them was brought down. The weaponsmaster had no intention of allowing her any time to rest. As soon as she rolled into position, Grennith was coming at her again, pulling up his wounded arm. The sword was pulled low to his side, then swept up at the last second to come down on her defenses. His first blow, being from his wounded arm, was little more than a distraction, something for her to react to while he sought an opening for a real strike...
Sevrina made note of which arm he came at her with; the good one, with the sheath. It was a blatant distraction, the gleam of his sword in his good arm caught her eye. The dark elf took the blow with the sheath and gave way again, rolling with the force of it and waiting for his real attack.
Grennith wasn’t operating on a planned combo, so the ‘real strike’ never came, as there was no proper opening. Instead, he sought to make one. Leaving her prepared ahead made her unprepared elsewhere. Though his arm bled freely, he still managed to use the blade to deliver a series of strikes on her front and pressing forward. If he could just move her center of gravity, he thought, perhaps a well-placed strike to her exposed pressure point on her leg could put her down long enough to perform a coup...
Grennith was striking at her chest, but he was also within her arm’s reach. Using the the backs of her arms, she blocked the strikes. Though his blows weren’t very strong, they were still doing damage to her arms, and she had to act fast. As he came down for another strike, her right hand shot out to grab his wrist and she kicked up between his legs, aiming for his groin.
This was the kind of moment he waited for. Grennith stopped his assault for it completely. He even slowed his wrist to make it easier for the assassin to gain her strike. Gren felt her boot land solidly between his legs, refusing to even bother attempting a defense. Locking his legs in place tight around Sevrina’s foot, he stared her straight in the face without even the minutest of changes in facial expression. There was no pain. His eyes, lips, hands, every bit of him read completely as if she had struck nothing at all. It was as if she had kicked a tree.
The weaponsmaster took advantage of any surprise she might have had, plus her completely vulnerable position. With one of her legs caught between his, she would have to focus completely on staying up. Using his knees, the master fighter pivoted her leg to the side with a vicious accuracy, forcing her to turn to the side. Meanwhile, Grennith used her grip on his arm to twist hers, including her forced turn to crank it far enough to force her to let go. But Gren did not. Snagging her arm with his sword hand, he held almost far enough around to break while whipping up his sheath for a shockingly fast strike to the back of her neck. With his force, he could knock out almost any opponent. Holding her as he did, Grennith saw little avenue for escape.
The dark elf growled in pain, but she couldn’t allow it to cloud her mind. He was coming at her with the sheath now that he had her pinned, and she knew all too well how vulnerable she was in this position. What did she have to work with? One free hand with a dagger and one free leg, but a very uncomfortable and almost useless position. Pinned though as she was, she didn’t have much time to debate escape with the sheath flying towards the back of her skull, all she could do was duck her head down and contort her long, lean body into a near fetal position for it to hopefully sweep by her head before he had time to react, and even if he did manage to react to the shift of position, he would have lost the momentum and force needed to strike before she could move again.
She had braced herself, but nothing could stop the brutal strike of his metal sheath. It had been his goal for the entirety of the fight and the weaponsmaster made it count. The dull thwack of steel on flesh echoed across the lane, the punctuation on the scuffles of two expert combatants. Though the weaponsmaster had targeted her head for a concussive strike, he adjusted his aim to take the side of her neck. It was one of the mothers of all pressure points. She would certainly avoid a concussion, but the blow could easily black the assassin out. The flesh padded the attack against damage to the vital bones in her neck from breaking. He wanted her alive.
The force drove the top of her torso downwards and Gren released both her limbs to let gravity do the rest of his work. If the assassin could manage to continue like before, he’d be shocked. If she managed to keep conscious, even that would be impressive. As she dropped, the warrior took two graceful steps back, ensuring he was completely out of striking range. One could never be too certain.
She hadn’t been able to move far enough and the hit still landed at a point she knew would knock her out, but she maintained consciousness for a moment. She told herself to fake unconsciousness, but her head was swimming, and she soon realized there would be no faking. Despite her best efforts the dark elf succumbed, going limp, defeated for the first time in many, many decades.
Grennith stood for a moment, looking at his unconscious foe.
Toumas strolled up behind the weaponsmaster, his tunic dirty from the ground. “Yet again, you prove your worth, my friend. Is she...?”
“No. She is unconscious,” the weaponsmaster said, kneeling down at the assassin’s side. Though it was not necessary, he checked her pulse to make sure.
“No time to waste then, right?”
“I will not kill her.”
Toumas laughed sarcastically. “She’s an assassin, Gren. A hired killer. Showing these things mercy-”
“She is disarmed.”
Toumas Auster’s eyes flamed. “Kill her,” he ordered.
Grennith ignored it, rolling the assassin over to continue his checkup. His fingers traced the edge of her face with a care born of femininity.
“Do it or I will.”
The weaponsmaster stopped, his eyes low, his face developing the slightest bit of a frown. Silently, he rose back to his feet and turned around, sheath still in hand. “From this point forward, this assassin is under my personal protection. Anyone who touches her shall face me to the death.” Grennith stared right through Toumas.
Toumas swallowed hard. Gren had never taken control like this before, but he was always afraid of it. No one could beat him. If they wanted to live, they had to concede. “Fine. Have your assassin.” Toumas spun around, marching back down the way. “If she harms one of my men, we will have our justice.”
Gren didn’t react to that. “Send your wife to my hut,” he said, his voice empty.
“She will not help an assassin.”
“I have a dagger in my shoulder,” Grennith replied. “I cannot lead your campaigns with one arm.”
“Fine.”
As Toumas stormed away, the weaponsmaster knelt by her side. “Come,” he whispered. “Let us get your neck taken care of.” The pain of twisting himself was naught but a mere distraction as he used his good shoulder to heft up the assassin. Though Gren was not muscular by nature, he bore the pain of too much activity well. And she was not as heavy as some others. With Sevrina upon his back and his dropped sword gathered, the young warrior began the journey to his abode.
