Child’s Play

Stalking stealthily across the roof of a vast castle, I take caution in my steps, careful not to make any noise. It’s been a week since the underground meeting took place. 

Assassins from across the world had gathered together in an old run down amphitheater underground to discuss a new bounty. A corrupt bounty we’ve been forbidden to even speak of. Every assassin had grumbled at this impossible task, but we all knew the reward would make it worth it. This request had to be the work of the government now threatened by the whispers of their unhappy people. An inside job. 

The assassin who could manage this impossible feat would be pardoned of all their crimes and become the kingdom’s own personal weapon. This was enough to make every assassin drool. And so we’d all set out, briefly becoming each other’s competition. It felt silly, like some sort of game.

Some had already tried and failed, being killed or caught in the pursuit of the bounty.

A few other assassins had teamed up into pairs and even in threes, knowing they’d betray each other in the end. I’d not been so thoughtless, however, and spent the week pulling favors and plotting on my own. If I’m going to pull this off, which I know I can, it’s going to be alone. And I need to pull this off. Because if I don’t, well, the wanted posters around the city with my face on them say more than enough. 

I stop right above where I’m sure the queen’s bedroom is. 

I’d pulled a favor from a navigator in the citadel who’d hired me years ago to find his daughter’s abusive husband. He’d paid me in part up front, and afterward, I’d told him to keep his money. That he needed it more, and I’d take the rest of his payment later in the form of a favor. The favor being a floor plan of the castle.

I’d spent hours memorizing the floor plan. I’d studied the guards outside the city and noted their schedules and builds. Hell, I’d even pulled a favor from one of the queen’s guards about the dogs that paraded the gardens of the castle. And now here I was, dropping onto the queen’s bedroom balcony.

My boots make contact with the cold marble floor of the balcony and I hesitate. The ornate frosted glass doors between me and the queen are no trouble to me as I push a pin into the crack of the doors and lift the latch up. It swings off the lock and I slide the door open a hair to listen. All I hear is the whisper of the queen’s soft snores. So I straighten my fighting leathers and tuck my braided crimson hair back into my black velvet hood. 

Drawing a dagger from the strap at my thigh, I push the door open a little more and stalk through the sheer curtains at the balcony door and peer inside. There’s little lighting in the room, and to my surprise, someone has beaten me inside. I recognize him easily.

His dark hair and eyes match his dark attire, making him close to impossible to see in the dark; one common objective among every assassin. He’s wearing a dark sleeved shirt with leather-like armor on his shoulders. The loose fabric around his neck doubles as a hood, and his pants are tucked into worn leather boots.

He’s standing at the queen’s bedside, which is tucked into a corner of the room.

In a quiet rage, I throw my dagger through the air. It lodges itself in the wooden frame of the queen’s bed quietly above his head. He looks up at it, and then at me, having not seen or heard me.

”You don’t want to do this, Atari.” I hear him whisper above the queen’s breath sounds.

”You’d be wrong, Keir.” I snarl back quietly. 

He glares at me as I crouch and pull a throwing knife from the leather belt hanging around my hips and whirl it at his head. It whistles through the air and Keir ducks. It lands in the wall directly behind his head.

Then he draws his own and I duck into a roll to meet his side. I kick out a leg at the end of the roll, and make contact with the back of his knees before he has time to throw the blade. Hopping to my feet with a light jump, I whirl around and grab the fabric at his throat to keep him from falling with too much sound. He drops the knife and hangs in the air, suspended solely from the excess fabric of the cape-less mantle around his neck. His eyes are wide. 

He reaches for my arm to pull me down with him, but I release the fabric and he clambers to the ground quietly. “Are you done?”

Keir’s face shifts into a rage from being bested by a small red headed woman. “No.” He says, and flips over onto his stomach while swinging a leg up to meet my face. 

I throw my forearm out in front of me to block his shin, and he reaches a hand out to grab my leg to pull me down. Taking a quick step back, I draw up my knee and stomp down on his hand hard, feeling it crack beneath my boot. He grits his teeth through the pain as I pull my knee back up to my chest to strike again. Lifting his own leg, he kicks out his boot and it makes contact with my stomach, sending me into the wall at the head of the queen's bed. 

I wince at the contact and hear the queen stir. Sliding my back down the wall, I kneel on the ground and wait to hear her wake. She stirs again and I slow my breathing to listen carefully as the older woman turns over in her bed. I glare my eyes at Keir who is now trying to get up without the use of his broken hand. 

Launching off the ground, I pounce on top of Keir in a rage with my fists ready. I slam them into his face, one after the other. He draws his forearms up in defense then hoists his knees up and kicks me over his head. I land on the ground hard just above his head.

We’re both to the ground before either of us acts first. I take note of our surroundings without breaking eye contact with Keir. The floor of the queen’s bedroom is open around us; aside from adjacent rooms, a long dresser to my left against a wall, and a chandelier above my head. Drawing two more throwing daggers, I palm them face down and watch as he does the same with his one good hand. 

“I need this, Keir.” I growl. He’s making this take longer than I’d anticipated. 

“Don’t we all?” He responds with an eye roll as he holds his bruised and swollen hand against his chest. 

“Your face isn’t hanging around the city with a reward under it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so careless during an assignment. Although better than me, Atari, you shame your assassin title.“ Keir says smugly in an attempt to drop my guard.

“Watch your tongue.” I growl again. The queen stirs again and we both turn our heads to look, but she only turns back over in her silk sheets.

I turn back to face Keir, but he’s still watching the queen so I steal the open opportunity and sprint towards him. He notices the motion, turning his head to face me. “Playing dirty, I see.” He says with a grin and widens his stance to a more defensive position. 

I grin at his carelessness and kick my legs out in front of me to slide between his feet. As I pass under him, I drag one blade across the inside of his upper thigh.

Blood spurts from the deep cut, and he drops down on one knee, clutching his leg and gasping in pain. Stopping mid-slide, I turn to throw my knife into his back. But the moment I turn around, I’m met by his bleeding leg colliding with my shoulder. The force is enough to drive the air out of my lungs while knocking me to the ground. 

Gasping for air, I clutch my knives and will myself to stand and face Keir. Who is now sitting on the ground trying to tie a tourniquet around his thigh to slow the bleeding. He’s ripped a piece of fabric from his mantle and is trying to tie it above the gash with one hand.

He gets it tied and is going for a second knot, when I roll my shoulder to ease the pain and step towards him until I’m mere inches from him. “Need some help?” I ask, but when he turns his head, I thrust my knee up into his nose.

He falls back onto the ground and clutches his bloody, broken nose with one hand.

”Oh, you little bi-“

“Watch it. You might shame your assassin title.” I say through gritted teeth. 

Keir sits up, blood pouring from his crooked nose, and I raise a blade-enclosed fist. I throw my arm out to punch him, but he catches it and throws me over his head to the ground once again. I drop my knives when I land and hear a crack upon impact. In a grimace, I bite my bottom lip to stifle the searing pain. It’s a wonder we haven’t woken the queen yet with all this fighting. 

Clutching my ribs, I push myself off the ground yet again and face Keir, who’s standing now. He’s braced heavily on his intact leg, while still clutching his broken hand to his chest. It’s an ugly shade of blue now. His other hand has a short dagger in it.

“Let’s finish this.” He winces the words out through the pain. I can tell the adrenaline is wearing off of him.

I huff and pick my blades off the ground before lunging toward him. Keir lifts his dagger to meet my small knives and I strike them both out at his arm. He dodges the attack and comes in with his dagger to slice my thigh. I bounce back to avoid the cut before lifting my boot to kick him in the side. 

Keir draws his elbow down quickly and plunges it into my boot, sending it back to the ground, before thrusting his dagger out at my chest. I bite back the pain and cross my blades. I catch his dagger between them, pinching it in place. I try to push him back, but it’s all I can do to hold it in place, when suddenly his face shifts and he wills his dagger closer to my chest.

Thinking quickly, I use his own weight against him. I rip my hands back and quickly duck under his arms and past him out of the way. The force of Keir pushing himself against me hurls him past me. He collides with the ground hard with a heavy thud. I brace my hands on my knees, panting.

“Oh, don’t stop. It was just getting interesting!” A small voice resonates loudly around the queen's bedroom. I look around in search of the squeaky voice and I see Keir raise up to do the same. 

Perched on the end of the queen’s bed is a small girl. She has deep brown eyes and dark hair that’s braided down her back. She’s wearing a simple leather vest with straps, each bearing a knife, with matching leather pants and boots. There’s blood spattered across one side of her body and hanging from her hand is the bounty; the queen’s head.

Behind her, the queen’s lifeless body lays draped in silk sheets soaked in her blood. My breath hitches in my throat. “But, how?!”

Keir spits blood onto the ground. “What are you, like twelve?”

“Fifteen, actually. And my name is Madia. While you were busy dueling, I just crept right in. You two actually made this child’s play.” She laughs at her own joke and shakes her head. 

I stand there, dumbfounded, and look to Keir for confirmation that I’m not hallucinating. His expression mirrors mine. He’s just as shocked as me. We hadn’t even heard her. But, how did she get here? What was she thinking? She could’ve been killed. I rack my brain for some sort of explanation. This must’ve been a game for her. What did she have to gain? 

Before I’m able to press further, Madia hops off the end of the queen’s bed and practically waltzes to the door. As she’s stepping out the door, she clicks her tongue. “And you two call yourselves assassins. What a shame.”