The Iron Butterfly

Trying to make a run for it I dashed for the window that he had entered and felt the slash of the knife strike my arm. Realizing that it would count as a hit, I quit running.



“Darn it,” I said, turning toward him and grabbing my arm where he slashed it. “That will definitely count. I’m dead and you win!” I held out my hand to him in a congratulatory handshake, when I realized my palm was covered in red paint, not green. It took a moment to realize it wasn’t paint, but blood.



Feeling my breath catch in my throat, I looked up at the person who I was extending my hand to.



He was short, unshaven and had greasy dark hair. I didn’t recognize him but his smile held pure evil as he chuckled at me.



“You’re absolutely right,” he said in a sinister voice. “You are dead.”



I stood frozen to one spot, fear radiating off of me in waves that I was projecting to my horse.



The man moved toward me swinging his knife. I couldn’t move.



Faraway physically took control over my mind and body and pushed me out of the way of the downward thrust of the knife. The knife sliced at my cloak and I regained control of my body and senses and moved into action, mentally thanking my horse for saving me, twice.



I leapt to the far side of a table, using it as a barricade between us as I tried to maneuver myself toward the door, but he just kept coming. I glanced to the window which led to a forty foot drop that I knew I couldn’t survive.



Grabbing the last sleep scent jar I had, I threw it at him as hard as I could. The killer ducked and it crashed into the far wall, too far away to do any good.



That was it, I was out of options.



In a last-ditch effort, I shoved the table as hard as I could into his stomach. He grunted and doubled over in pain. Sprinting toward the door I gripped the door handle and began to turn it, only to realize it was still locked.



Turning the lock I was able to open the door when my attacker yanked me back into the room by my hair, tossing me across the floor. I slid until my back crashed into the armoire followed by the loud crack of my skull hitting it as well.



Stars filled my vision and pain screamed through my head as I painfully watched him close the door. I was so close! Just a few more seconds and I could have escaped. Now my body was throbbing, I had problems focusing and darkness filled my vision. It didn’t last long as the blackness faded into the form of the man looming over me with his bloodstained knife.



“Please!” I begged. “You don’t have to kill me.”



“Yes, I do. Raven is afraid you’ll regain your memories and reveal us.” He kneeled down in front of me.



My hands flew out in defense, hitting him to keep him as far away as possible.



“You are a costly loose end. You need to be disposed of.”



The moon chose that moment to go behind a cloud and we lost all light.



Grabbing the dirty hand that held the knife I tried to pull it from his grasp, but he was stronger than me. Losing the battle I kicked, scratched and finally bit his arm until the taste of blood flowed into my mouth.



He punched me in the jaw and I went slack with dizziness. I saw him grin in triumph as he raised the knife to slice my throat. Praying to God to make it quick and painless, I closed my eyes.



A soft thud and a grunt were all I heard as I opened my eyes, to see the man drop the knife that was inches from my neck and fall onto my body, blood trickling from his mouth.



Crying out in fear I struggled with the weight of his body and tried to push him off of me. Feeling his blood flow onto me, he was still breathing, rasping in my ear.



Soft sobs escaped me as I was helpless to move his dying form. The sound of footsteps drew near as the body was rolled over onto the floor next to me. Not caring if I lived or died, or if the other person in the room meant me harm, I curled up in a fetal position and watched the man slowly die. All thoughts of being brave left as I watched him struggle for life.



“We will keep coming,” he rasped out. “Until she’s dead. There are more of us. There are always more, willing to die for the Raven and his ideas.” He began to cough and spit out more blood.



Wherever he was wounded, it was a mortal wound.



“We are like the sands on a shore, numerous beyond measure and everywhere. Eventually we will have her and she will die.”



He didn’t say anymore as the other stranger in the room was tired of his threats and leaned over the body grabbing the head, while blocking my view. The thought faintly hit me that this must be the deadly SwordBrother. The sound of the neck snapping brought me back to awareness and hysteria at all at once.



“NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO!” I heard myself say over and over again. A faint pressure was building in my head, the signs of another headache coming on.



“Shhh, Thalia, shhhh. It’s alright. You’re safe,” the SwordBrother kindly intoned.



Turning toward me, he used his body to block the sight of the dead assassin. Raising his gloved hand he stroked my hair from my forehead in a gentle and reassuring manner.



“Who are you?” I whispered into the dark.



“I’m a SwordBrother.”



I wasn’t in the mood for games. “No. What’s your name?”



He leaned back on his heels, bringing his face into the moonlight.



“But you already know it,” he spoke softly. The moonlight illuminated the strong jaw, the long black hair and dark stormy eyes of Kael.





Chapter 22



My heart fluttered in excitement and apprehension at seeing him. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?” I asked defensively.



Kael pulled back his hand, his face becoming stone, hiding all of his emotions. “I’m here because I was asked to be here by Pax Baton as a favor, to test the Citadel’s defenses” His eyes bore into mine and he rocked back onto the balls of his feet, hands resting on his knees.



“But you showed up in the marketplace and saved me, and now here. How did you know I was in trouble if you weren’t following me?” I blurted out angrily.



He snorted. “You must think pretty highly of yourself, if you believe that you’re important enough to have a SwordBrother protecting you.”



I gave Kael a startled look.



Leaning in close to me his breath whispering against my ear, he said very slowly, “Believe me, you’re not.”



My blood boiled at his words. He drove me to insanity with his apparent disregard for me. How can a person save your life in one breath and act like he can’t stand you the next?



“If I’m not important, maybe you should have left me to die,” I snarled at him, showing him my teeth and displeasure.



“Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”



Jumping to his feet, he walked over to the dead assassin and began to rummage through his pockets, pulling out a garrote, a small piece of paper that looked to be a sketch of the Citadel, throwing knives, a small clear vial of fluid, which Kael sniffed and labeled as poison, and another piece of paper with ancient symbols drawn on it.



Obviously he was one of the vile Septori, but he had told us nothing of where he came from. Kael found the side pouch and pulled out my clay pot and put it on the floor without opening it, giving me a look.



“Why don’t you smell that one?” I asked, wishing full well he would, so that he would fall asleep. It would serve him right for the way he treated me.