The Villain

It was cold, wet, and rainy. She stalked the caravan, watching them trekking slowly on their excursion.

She’s been tracking them for days. Watching them slow down their pace, then pick it up. They’ve only stopped for three things; water, rest, and skirmishes. She’s been present for two of these skirmishes. But stayed out of sight, out of mind, perceiving their skills and tactics. They don’t know she’s here. That’s an impossibility. 

She’s been trained for this. But nothing could’ve prepared her for this. 

Nonetheless, if they knew she was here, they would’ve already taken action.

She’s got her eyes set on a specific “target” she’s been assigned to; she can see him through the deep red curtain of the only coach in their little parade; when the sun catches it at the right angle.

But taking out the armored guards will be a chore. They have probably been hand-selected for their strength, skill, and stamina.

There are three men posted in a triangle formation at the front of the parade, and five in a trapezoid posted at the back, with a few others all spaced out evenly. 

The secret society she’s been a part of since childhood had deemed her the only possible candidate for the job. She’s the only one that would survive such an assignment. The Elders had suggested she take at least one accomplice, but she barked down the idea, suggesting it would only slow her down. And it would. She didn’t need the assistance, and they knew it too. Thus the argument had ended. 

Briefly, she’d thought this was some sort of punishment. That the Elders of the society knew, and were furious. However, she deemed it impractical and dismissed it from her thoughts. She’d been cautious. They just wanted her assignment disposed of for the good of their people.

Trailing through the mist at the edge of the forest, she began to move closer to the trail, taking care not to be seen. She climbed an embankment in a crouch to study the knights. They all wore the same armor, with identical swords strapped to their sides. All consisting of steel and iron, so clean it reflected the sun. 

With helmets, boots, chest plates and shin guards, this was going to be difficult. She was going to have to calculate every strike, and make it lethal. But she saw some weaknesses in the armor that she could work with.

They were coming to the edge of the lavish forest, so she would need to strike soon. There was a ravine to the edge of the forest she’d rather not dance around.

Carefully, she crept through the quiet woods toward the back of the small convoy. Once she’d reached the back, she straightened her soft leathers then pulled the hood of her dark cloak over her golden hair. She took a deep breath, and crawled to the edge of the trail. If she could take down a few quietly, this would be over shortly. 

She hoped. 

She raised up and leapt onto the dirt trail, boots quick but quiet. She crept up behind two of the five knights posted at the far back. They were side by side, with three more ahead of them lined up horizontally. 

She drew the dagger strapped to her right boot. Palming it, she turned it blade down while looking them over for the bigger opponent. She needed this to happen fast. Or they’d alert the other knights. Finally ready, she got closer and poised herself behind the two knights. Then reached quickly and wrapped her hands around the right knight's chin and twisted hard.

She heard a sharp crack, feeling the neck bone snapping quickly. As he started to fall, she noticed the other knight turn his head. She held out her arms to catch him and silence the landing. 

Upon seeing her, the left knight opened his mouth ready to shout. But she quickly dropped the first guard to the ground softly, shifted her weight and flipped her dagger blade up between her thumb and first finger. With the quick acuity of a viper, she forced it into his mouth and down deep into his throat.

He looked into her soulless eyes as she quietly raised a finger from her free hand to her lips in a warning hush. Then she withdrew her dagger, wiping it on a scrap of his own pants, and sheathed it. He choked, and as he started to fall she caught him and lowered him to the ground quietly, just as she had done the first enemy.

The three knights ahead were a good distance away to not notice or hear the commotion behind them, but these three weren’t going to be as easy to handle.

Towering over her, they were a good bit larger than the previous kills. She’d have to think and act quickly, or this would take longer than she’d anticipated. 

She stalked closely behind them, keeping low to the ground and in their peripherals, so they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of her. She analyzed them and upon deciding her next move, raised from her stance on the ground and marched toward them with confidence. Once she was within arm's reach of them, she hopped into a spin. Dropping onto one leg halfway into the spin, she swung it hard into their legs. She watched all three of the knights tumble to the ground. 

Then she was on them in mere milliseconds, not giving them a chance to get their bearings. 

Springing onto the first man, she watched him reach for his sword but didn’t give him the chance as she sliced through his fingers. The man cried out in pain as he gripped his butchered hand, calling attention to them. But to the side, another knight had risen to the challenge and drawn his sword. She kicked the man in front of her in the teeth to stun him for a while, propulsing him backwards and onto the ground again out of her reach. She then turned to face her new opponent as their fellow knights called the procession to a halt after hearing the scream.

Her new opponent was hard on the eyes, with a rough beard and dark eyes. The cold kind that were meant for killing. 

Behind him, the third knight finally stirred from the ground, ready to aid the bearded man in the luxury of having her head. The dark-eyed man released a brief smirk, and launched toward her. She ducked under his clumsy arms, going for the aid, and he stumbled. 

The knight on the ground in front of her startled, not expecting her to tackle him first, and he jumped to his feet, drawing his sword and pointing. She could tell by his stance that he was experienced.

Jumping into a roll, she tucked her knees to her chest, rolling the remaining few feet to close the distance. She watched him take a swing as she passed him, but stopped only when she got to his side, drawing the same dagger she used earlier, and plummeted it into one of the few weaknesses in their armor; his side. 

She forced it as deep as she could before he could turn around. He began grasping at his side as the blood rapidly began to stain the cloth on his side and under the chest plate. Hearing the other knights quickly approaching, she wiped the small blade and tucked it away, drawing her own sword. The clean black steel blade shrieking as she pulled it from the worn leather sheath at her back.

At the head of the group was the dark-eyed knight, ready for a real fight. She inhaled deeply, then blew out. The first guard stirred from the ground behind them, clutching his bloody spit covered mouth. His butchered hand still dripping with blood, he keeled over, dead from so much blood lost. Then with a shout, the bigger man charged, the others in tow. She sprinted forward, prepared.

Her sword clashed with the man’s and it took all her might to keep his sword in place. He retreated his sword, raising it to downswipe her. But she was ready and had already read his posture, knowing his next move. He was too slow as she struck him in the thigh with her own sword and pulled back. Dropping his knee to the ground in pain, he growled and forced himself upright as the other men closed in on her.

Then they were clashing swords and howling. 

But what they aren’t aware of is she likes the adrenaline of it. The fierceness of battle. Swinging at a guard, ducking past another, she was all adrenaline and skill.

She sliced another guard's shoulder and bicep, dragging her sword down until she reached bone. The casualty forced him to drop his sword, so she went for the kill. Then she turned to face the rest.

Fighting tooth and nail, taking one after another down, she was lowering their numbers and their odds. And then she was down to the final two. The dark-eyed man who refused to back down and a smaller man who barely had a scratch but was keeping his distance. She took a few steps backwards towards the wooded forest, hoping to lure them into the dark brush for an advantage. She was getting tired, but she wouldn’t back down.

She reached the tree line and hesitated, waiting for them to charge. But they didn’t. They turned as if finished and began to get back into formation, the large one leading. She wondered if they’d given up. But without a second thought she bolted straight for the closer knight. 

With a shout, she speared her blood soaked sword under the younger looking knight’s helmet and into his skull. There was a second of silence, and the man collapsed to the ground, limp. 

She withdrew her sword, and turned to face the dark-eyed knight yet again. With great surprise, he’d formed tears for the lifeless body she’d just impaled brutally. Then the man let out a bloodcurdling devilish cry, as if he’d been possessed.

“SON!!!” He screamed at the slumped body on the ground. He ran to the fallen man and scooped him into his arms, holding him tight before releasing him to the ground slowly. He narrowed his eyes and looked straight at her as if she herself were the devil incarnate, and pulled his lips into a sneer. She backed to the edge of the forest like before and watched as the man lifted his wounded leg off the ground first then the other, and drew his sword again with rage.

He looked her once more in the eyes. His eyes seemed darker, angrier. He huffed and took a step, then another and another until he was mere feet from her. He cracked his neck and squared his shoulders before raising his sword to meet hers.

She narrowed her eyes back at him, not bothering to budge or even flinch in the face of the traumatized soldier. “One of us is going to lose.”

“I’ll bet my son’s life it’ll be you.” He spits at her.

She steals a sharp glance at the body he’d cried over, then back to look at the man’s hard gaze, and smirks.

“That’s a bet you’ve already lost.”

The man’s face shifted to something ungodly and he swiped at her fast and hard, but she’d already turned and lurched into the forest. Behind her, she heard him bellow and take after her. 

Darting through the dense blanket of trees, she watched the ravine quickly approaching and decided to take position behind a larger tree to wait. She heard him crashing through the foliage like a clumsy bear. He barreled past her tree and she jumped at him. She threw her sword at his heel, nearly missing it, but catching the flesh under a strap on his shin guard. Blood begins to spurt from the cut as the shin guard falls into the leaves. 

He tumbles, hitting the ground hard face down. But she was on him again before he could defend himself. She didn’t leave any room for mercy as she dug her knee into his back and used her sword to slice his throat. She didn’t even wince as the sound of steel scraping against bone whispered in her ears.

Standing upright, she bent down, wiped her sword on his breeches and sheathed it. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked to his head, dug her hands into his armpits, and hoisted the immense man. With a grunt, she began taking heavy steps toward the ravine. After dragging him a while, she dropped him long ways; parallel to the steep drop. She stepped behind him, lifted a tired foot and kicked at him hard, rolling him off the edge. 

“Normally we burn them. It’s a little more respectful.” A gruff voice behind her stated.

She rolled her eyes, having known he was there, watching her. “And who is ‘we’? Because we don’t care about respect.” She turns her head and looks him over once.

Propped against a tree, the man stood there, garbed in richly crafted fabrics with silver buttons down the front of his lavish purple shirt. The top of his shirt is messily undone, exposing clean, toned flesh. A deep black leather belt around his waist is adorned with a plain silver buckle, holding up black dress pants almost too tight on his muscular thighs. His dusky brown hair rippled in the wind, deep blue eyes shining like they’ve never seen darkness. “I’ve never seen you carry one sword for this long, you must be attached to this one.” He says arrogantly.

She huffs a glance over her shoulder at the sword.

It was crafted to be long and slender. Forged from black steel, she had never needed to sharpen it. The sharpened edges give off an almost gray color. It’s adorned with a tightly wrapped leather hilt of which a small steel raven sits atop the handle. It was perfection in its own dangerous form. “Would be a waste of such fine craftsmanship to discard it.”

He frowns for a millisecond then flashes a grin. “Twas crafted to acquaint you, my lady. Would be a waste in anyone else’s hands.”

She didn’t bother to respond to his smugness, only stared off into the abundance of cliffs. Before looking back at the rich purple of his shirt, the buttons glistening in the golden rays of sun. She was here to do one thing, but she couldn’t even move.

He moved off the tree with a rustle and made his way toward her, stopping only inches behind her. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and hair. The scent of leather and some type of wood wafted around her, as if he’d bathed in his own masculinity. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts, knowing she couldn’t let past feelings proceed any further. 

She thought about death, and killing the guards, the screams and the metallic scent of their blood on her sword.

She’d been trained and hardened for this type of thing. She was forged by some of the best assassins of this century. They fought like fire, spreading and burning the things they got close to. 

And now, she did too. 

She was forged by fire, and now, she was the fire.

There was only one ‘thing’ in this world that could both ignite and douse her. And he was standing behind her.

She turned to face the lean man, the heat from her cheeks fading. He cocked his head to the side, looking down at her as she took in his conspicuous clothes. “Is something wrong, my-”

“Why must you be so distasteful? The clothes, the way you speak. It’s just so… boisterous.” She asked composedly, cutting him short.

He followed her gaze to his expensive shirt. “I like the loud life I have.” He shrugged, then smiled. “Comes with the occupation.”

“And such ‘occupation’ is to follow in your villainous father’s footsteps?” She sharply probed, shaking her head and taking a few steps past him. She stopped and turned back to face him. “I think I’ll take the quiet life.”

“He wa-” he began about his father, the playful smile dropping for a millisecond. “I’m a villain, to some. A hero to others. I only have good intentions.”

“Some of the greatest kings have been slain for good intentions.” She says reaching up to grasp the hilt of her sword for only a mere second, contemplating, before putting her hand back at her side.

“I-“ He paused. “I’m an adequate man. Sure, I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. But as I said before, I’m a villain to some. And a hero to others.”

She thought of the Elders for a moment and looked him in the eyes. Then spoke softly, “You’re a villain to us. ” 

She closed the short distance between them until there was only a couple of feet. “You are aware of that.”

He furrowed his brow. “I am.”

She furrowed her own brow, and looked him in the eyes. He looked at her, puzzled. Until she hoisted her knee up to waist level, swung her ankle up and drew back her knee. 

Her boot made contact with his chest. Sending him flying over the edge of the precipice. The second her boot touched him, he looked her square in the eyes with bewilderment as his feet left the ground.

Limbs flailing, she watched his body grow smaller and smaller as he plummeted into the foggy abyss, the same baffled look still on his face.

“But who’s the villain now?” She whispered as she turned away.

She didn’t shed a tear. Merely replayed the last look on his face over and over in her mind. She knew it would never leave her.