Chapter 13: The storm hits twice

La’er the Green Flame, the name was a combination of the glyphs for flame, green, and snake. The blade itself is curved and dangerous, I thought as my sight lingered around my torso, spellbound by the craft I had just tattooed on myself. It was pure recklessness; no one in their right mind would have attempted to carve such a complex drawing on their skin without trying it first on paper. But I was too absorbed in my Ink’s thoughts, I let it take the best of me, and honestly, I didn’t repent at all.

I placed my right hand over my back, touching the very end of the tattoo. Focusing my will, the sturdy handle of the dagger took form in my hand. I knew the carving was perfect even before invoking it; I didn’t doubt that it was everything I had envisioned. But, even then, I couldn’t avoid shaking like a leaf. I had to make a mental effort not to cut myself during an uncontrolled spasm.

I moved it right in front of my eyes, the green light of those flames blinding me. Wow. I was lost for words, I couldn’t think of any grandiose description of my dagger, but I didn’t need to. I waved my other hand around the flames, and when I was sure I didn’t feel any heat, I took a leap of faith and placed it right over the blade, grabbing it’s blunt side.

“Amazing…” I muttered for myself, with nobody to hear it. It was exactly what I expected, definitely what the Ink was telling me, but nothing was like actually experiencing it.

I swung it a few more times, making sure I had gotten the weight right, and then immediately hid it again, afraid someone would come attracted by the weird light. I hadn’t been in movement all that time just to expose myself like this.

I kept my practice fights with my drunk teacher for the coming weeks, using the blunt swords to somewhat safely hit one another. My body might have disagreed with it, seeing that it was full of bruises, but it was a necessary evil. I went back to the days of receiving and not giving, meaning I couldn’t get any single hit on his body. But the improvements were real; I could feel myself gaining a better understanding of the weapons and my own pose.

Ink-wise, it might be hard to believe, but I had only read one-tenth of Ink Formations. One time, I tried to push myself and read several formations in a single afternoon, and the result was not pretty. I had to lie in bed for a whole day, taken by a persistent headache that wouldn’t let me directly see any light. Thus, at first, I had to be satisfied with reading one per day, but soon even that became too burdensome. It wouldn’t induce migraines, but I didn’t have enough time to let the knowledge sink in.

Trying to fill in all that time that now I had free, I went back to the hideout. It might have been the fifth or sixth time I did so, and I hoped not to come back empty-handed again. Harboring some hope, I opened the door and peeked inside. The table was empty. What is happening, Spare? It had been months since I last saw any sign of him, and I was getting anxious. I remembered the tired face he had those nights he came after several days of being outside. Are you in danger, perhaps?

I was about to leave when I saw something white over the table. A note! Yes! I ran as quick as my legs allowed me to and hurriedly picked up the paper.

The first night the moon’s full, meet me by the bridge.

I was raring to go, but there was still a week until we had a full moon. Luckily I had decided to come over, otherwise, I might have missed the date. I rapidly checked the rest of the chambers, but there was nothing else waiting for me. I secretly wished he might have left one more book, but it was not the case. Maybe my education is already completed? The thought wandered my mind as I made haste back to another shack.

One week, even after spending months of constant training, can be eternal. Especially when you are looking forward to seeing the figure closest to a father you have ever had. I found it hard to concentrate, which granted me more hits than usual and made my drawings worse than my average. But those were trivialities I could bear with if it meant seeing Spare.

I made sure to say goodbye to my teacher, who had been loyal to his daily doses of alcohol. I might have imagined he was sad, but even in that case, I had doubts if it was over losing his star pupil or his guaranteed source of beer. There was nothing else tying me to this place, so leaving was an easy matter.

Revisiting the same route we took when I first left with him, I worked my way to the bridge. Although the night had already fallen, I could clearly see thanks to the moon’s light. The streets were quiet; not a single soul roamed during those hours. All of it was good news for me, as I could get there without being seen.

The bridge soon came in sight when I turned a narrow street and reached the ground path that connected both sides of the Hivar. Where’s Spare? I moved my eyes all along the base of the bridge on my side but failed to see him. Maybe on the other side of the bridge? It drew an arc, so everything on the other side was hidden until your head was above the halfway line.

“RUN!” My eyes had yet to process everything in front of me, that a shout reached my ears. It was the voice I had been longing for, it was Spare, and it was telling me to go away.

I ignored the warning and kept on walking, trying to figure out who those blurred figures were. Five people, one of them Spare, but he was obviously not there by his own choice. His knees were hugging the stone, his arms restrained on his back, everything tied with strong ropes, and his head held high by someone’s hand. I could have run to save myself, there was still time to turn back, but I knew what that would mean for Spare’s life.

“It’s my time to do something for you…” I whispered, leaving the words hanging on the air, reaffirming my own conviction.

I walked the remaining distance with studied calm. I was examining his captors, trying to find anything that would tell me something about them. Nothing, their tattoos were hidden under several layers of clothes, and not even the tiniest bit was visible. All of them wore black robes, long and wide cloaks that waved with the wind. Their masked faces concealed their appear- Green eyes! I immediately saw that pair of piercing globes, the same ones that tried to kill me in that inn.

By that moment, I had absolutely no doubts I would fight them and rescue Spare. It was personal; those people were hired to kill me. If I could interrogate one of them… If I could just make one of them talk… I quickly discarded all the fantasies that clouded my judgment, I needed absolute concentration if I was to get out of there alive.

I stopped at roughly 5 meters from them, enough to hear the throaty laughs of those people. They weren’t hiding their amazement; it was obvious they thought I was a clueless kid walking to his death. “You know what is going to happen, right?” The green-eyed assassin spoke with confidence.

“Yes.” My voice wasn’t a shaky shout; it exuded confidence and spoke with the conviction of someone who owns his own destiny. “You will let Spare go.” Their laughs intensified, but I raised one finger, making all of them mute. “And I will come with you.”

They exchanged confused looks. He will come with us? I’m sure they thought. It was true I would go over to them, but not precisely to exchange a few nice words and then get killed. I was planning to let hell loose.

My eyes and Spare’s met. It was a brief second, but I saw the panic in them. There was no need for him to speak; I could clearly hear what he was saying. Don’t come, please. Please, don’t die for me. Please, run, go away, escape! Please! The moon’s light was reflected on his watery eyes. The light traveled his face as the tear fell, and shone when it bounced on his tights.

“You don’t set the conditions here.” A muffled voice broke my short-lived interchange with Spare. Its owner was approaching from the right, unarmed but with a menacing attitude. “I can just as easily end the job myself.”

His words ended in a full sprint. He broke into a run, darting in a straight line towards me. A year ago, I would have panicked, maybe even matched his sprint, but that’s far from what I did. I relaxed my shoulders, moved my feet, and prepared my stance—left hand in front, right on the back. My mind drifted to that trance where my actions spoke for me and not the inverse. I slowly materialized one of my blunt daggers in my foremost hand; it was still early to reveal my La’er.

By the time he reached me, I was already submerged in profound abstraction. My left foot dashed to the front and further to the left, my right followed behind in a circling motion. It was a perfected version of a simple sidestep; you evaded the opponent while positioning yourself behind his back. He was going too fast to stop in time, too hasty to react in time to my fluid movements. My left foot completed the circle, spinning my waist and forcing my stretched arm against the back of his neck.

I felt the opposing force as my edgeless weapon crashed on his first cervical. Something snapped, the metal went deeper on his skin, his feet failed to land on the ground, his legs stopped all and any movement, and his body fell limp to the ground. I had killed my first person, and I felt absolutely nothing about it. There was no emotion, neither excitement nor repulsion, nothing.

“You will release Spare, and I will come.” I repeated, with the exact same level of passion as a moment before.

Without leaving my mindless state, I studied their reactions. Honestly, I was not expecting they would let Spare go; we could quickly turn the situation in our favor if he joined my efforts. What I was looking for was a lapse, a misjudgment, something that would allow me to free him.

As expected, they didn’t budge. I saw daggers materializing in one of them, a sword as large as myself in the other’s hands, and finally something reassembling a chopping knife. They didn’t rush to my side; they calmly walked while assuming a well-thought formation. The sword occupied the middle, right in front of me, while the other shorter weapons threatened from the side.

A smile bloomed on my face, Spare is alone. It was time for La’er to shine; I had to get inside their heads and pounce on him. Alone, against three attackers, I had absolutely no chance to make it out alive.

A thread of light peeked from my index finger; green flames curled and twisted their way through the air. It was working, I could see as much on their faces. I would have loved to see Spare’s expression, but he was hidden behind the swordsman. I had the dagger firmly gripped, inspiring terror on my enemies with its completed form. It’s now or never! Abandoning all pretenses of putting up a fight, I did what killed the corpse next to me, run.

The blunt dagger pressed against my chest and the other freely swinging by my side, I aimed for the stunned man in the middle, swiftly getting in front of him. A two-handed cut coming from above threatened to ram my head and cut it in half. I couldn’t dodge, nor could I simply block it off. The sheer force behind the slash would ignore my feeble attempt to hinder it, and I would probably end up smashing my own metal against me.

Instead, I slid to my knees, hurting as the pebbles and ground tore through the burlap sack that was my clothes and nailed my skin down. It burnt, but I didn’t let the pain distract me. Angling it to my left, I used both hands to hold La’er above my head. It was an improvised parry, using my lower height and the descending path of the sword to divert its trajectory.

My knees were still gliding through the ground when the might of the sword impacted the blade of my dagger. My arms gave way, threatening to dislodge my shoulders, but I soldiered through the agony and used the momentum to roll to my right. In the time it took him to recover from the motion that had lodged his sword in the cobble, I jumped and resumed my rashed run. You should never give your back to an enemy, but I couldn’t care less at that moment.

I went around Spare and cut his ropes. La’er melted the fibers like they were butter, promptly freeing him from his ties. My grim didn’t last for long, though; all three cloaked enemies were charging towards us. “Shit!” We didn’t have time to run, and I didn’t know if he was fit for fighting.

I saw the dagger-wielder focusing on Spare, maybe trying to get revenge for the close call he got at the inn. That meant the other two assassins would try to kill me. Sensing the sword lunging for me, I focused back on the fight. Blocking or parrying could mean getting chopped by the knife a second later. Running back would leave Spare’s back exposed to attacks.

I did the only thing I could. Meeting the sword with my blunt dagger, I moved towards the wielder, creating sparkles as the metals met each other along the way. I slashed with my other hand, but my blade only cut the air; he had already distanced himself. Abusing his longest weapon, he swung his sword horizontally, once again searching for my body. I was busy using both daggers to block the attack and was late to notice the other guy sneaking on my side.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a quick blur descending to my head. I let go of my stance and jumped, using the force of the sword to displace me in the air. It helped to avoid meeting an early death, but my situation quickly deteriorated. I was being pushed when the knife lacerated from my shoulder to the elbow.

“Aah!” I shouted as my stunt was meeting its end, propelling me to the ground and crashing with a thud. Whatever air I had left on my lungs left in a rush; I gasped for air. Abandoning the blunt dagger, not that I could use that arm anymore, I grasped my neck; I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were wide open, witnessing the slowly approaching figure with a butcher’s knife. I wanted to fight, I had to fight, but my chest burned, and all my strength was gone.

“Tarar!” I heard Spare’s voice near me. I turned and saw him sprinting to my side, one dagger flying and spinning faster than he was. I heard metal clashing as the gravel rubbed against my back due to Spare’s drag.

“We must run,” I followed his finger and saw multiple shadows coming in the distance. “Meet me outside our hideout.”

“Bu-” I tried to retort, but I could only say half a word before I had to desperately inhale. Spare pulled me from my clothes like a ragdoll, forcing me to a standing position that I could barely hold for a second before having to crouch, supporting myself on my gashed knees.

Metal clashed around me as Spare defended us from the sword and the knife. Whatever had happened with the green-eyed assassin, he was nowhere to be seen. I was starting to feel better, but my sight was blurred and imprecise. Have I hit my head? What could I do in that situation? Partly disabled, nauseous, and still having difficulties breathing.

“Run! I’ll hold them back!” He pushed me on my back. Those figures were already alarmingly close, coming from all over the wealthy neighborhood. I didn’t know if they were more enemies, soldiers, or people who had heard the commotion, but I couldn’t risk it.

I knew I was nothing more than a liability, my training was insufficient, and Spare couldn’t fight and protect me at the same time, not against two opponents, even less against the sea of people that were coming our way.

“Take it!” I offered him my La’er; it’s the least I can do, I thought while impatiently trying to grab his hand. “It won’t hurt its wielder.” I shouted, hoping it would make his mind up. Eventually, after a longer time than I’d have wanted, I managed to close his punch around the grip. I nodded to myself, seeing that I had succeeded, and threatened him, “I better see you back there!” I don’t know if he smiled or ignored me; his mind was probably too immersed in the battle to even hear me.

Reluctantly, and not without turning a few times during the process, I ran away. I sensed my bond with La’er getting weaker, slowly superseding the ecstasy of being wielded by an expert and the overflowing thirst for blood.

I took detours, followed unnecessary streets, circled around a few times, climbed shacks, and dug my way under fences. I did everything I deemed necessary to make sure nobody was following me. They already knew of our hideout, that much was clear, so I held on to the hope that they wouldn’t expect us to go back there. I just had to be careful enough so that no one saw me.

The waiting was excruciating. I had to use all my mental strength to stop myself from biting my nails. My anxious mind wanted to move my legs, wander from place to place, and it took superhuman willpower not to do it. Hidden in the depths of the corridor just outside our hideout, I estimated that 15 minutes had already passed. It was not much, but considering the time it took me to get there, it was a worrying amount.

Something has happened to him, my mind started playing dangerous games. Another 15 minutes went by; my hands were numb and white from all the pressure I had been submitting them to. Maybe I should go out and find him, it continuously insisted. I knew I had to wait for him, but it was too damn hard. I was sick of waiting, sick of thinking he had died, sick of my own impotence. Every second was a needle stabbing right at my heart.

Yet, when I saw the bearded man with torn clothes, half his trousers gone, and a pronounced limp, I couldn’t stand up. I… no… that… My mind was a mess, all it could see was his hand pressing against his chest and the rivers of red viscous liquid overflowing through his fingers. All I could see was a dying Spare.