~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A noblewoman from Artignon my mother? All these years and I never knew? How much have the Enforcers stolen from me? Trying not to forget my task I sneak over to the first guard and knock him unconscious, slipping through the doors before the second one can find me.
Once inside I call out in a hoarse voice to get the chattering Council’s attention. They snap back to look at me, then one demands to know what I, an impudent old woman, am doing in the Magisterial Throne Room.
“I have secrets to disclose.” is all I say, leaving them to decide whether they will listen or kick me out. Both have an equal probability.
“Secrets concerning whom or what?” another speaks up.
“Concerning the megalopolitan region of Kandu.”
The Council Members titter nervously for a few seconds, motioning at me suspiciously and frowning. Eventually I their stern faces loosen and I am accepted, but it is more out of curiosity than necessity. However they call and place guards beside them, preparing for an attack on my part.
I take a deep, wavering breath, then tell them about the trickily strategic plans of the the Kandan military generals. I hand them a hand-drawn map of Kandu’s attack bases and targets. I give them blueprints of the important buildings. I mention the best ways to attack Kandu, and the ways to come undetected.
All in all, I allow them to defeat Kandu and it’s Enforcers, something they would have wanted to do for several years now . . . and something that could be helpful to me, too. The Council takes all of this seriously, and when I finish they don’t say a word. I go back to the door, listening intently for anything, both inside and outside of the room, but there’s nothing at all. Just as I begin to push the heavy chestnut wood and exit I conclude that my disguise has not hidden my identity, for a Council member quietly says as I head out, “You do have a heart then. Thank you, Aelise, Wolf of Kandu.”
VISIT 4: Brisbane, Viva
No more disguises. They obviously don’t work.
Too bad I really need one right now.
Sitting in ornate iron benches and gazing at the sunset are couples, dotting themselves through the park. A man by the name of Steve wanders through the orange sunlight, dressed in a brown wool sweater and holding a small drawing pad. Like a poor French artist he had courted a daring young woman from a rich family. Despite the fact that Steve tried his best to pretend, he was still a refugee from Kandu-an escaping prisoner. Kandu is cruel in that way; the victim himself may not suffer, but all his loved ones will. As was the case of Steve.
I now carry a crisp, cream envelope secured with a red wax seal bearing no insignia. Contained inside the thick paper is the letter from Caraia that she never could send, a last proclamation of her love for Steve. Page after page of handwritten script recalling the sunny times they had experience together, and wishing for more.
Spotting Steve among the happy-go-lucky people strolling by, I walk slowly towards him. The sound of Caraia’s terrorized screams as I smiled my death smile over her sears itself through my mind over and over again.
I have no disguise, and when Steve’s eyes pass over my face he quickly turns and half-runs in the other direction. He knows me well.
“Steve!” I call out softly. “I have something to give to you.”
He doesn’t turn, so I run after him, and tap his shoulder. I get no response, so I simply stuff the envelope into his drawing pad and leave. He will read it, for sure. He will read it, and he will remember.
VISIT 5: East Side, Kandu
Back in the concrete city, I’m here to remember my older sister.
It had been an accident, a drop of poison in this cup when it should have been in that cup. And because it was just a drop, my sweet, beautiful sister died a slow, painful death.
I received no compensation for her passing, after all, it was my fault. But still, it was the Enforcers who told me to take a vial of poison and put it in any cup at all.
Deep in the East Side where the poor do their drudgery and the death rates are high is a small dirt lot overfilled with crumbling headstones and weeds. Some have nothing on them, one of the newer ones features only a crudely carved name reading
Meritha Teronne
I step carefully through the half-hearted graveyard to reach my sister's grave, the familiar stone only reaching knee-height. Kneeling in front of her, I let a tear fall to the the dirt, and wish I could go back in time.
A faint woman with a swirling blue gown and glowing green eyes suddenly appears before me. More hot tears prick my eyes as I watch Meritha's face take shape, ghostly mouth parted in speech.
Out of a gray gloom my sister floats, her gown sagging to brush against the ground. She motions me closer and I obey, slowly moving to stand just inches away from her pale face.
“Aelise,” she says in a high ghostly voice.
“Meritha?"
“You have been forgiven, no one holds you responsible . . . how many people do you have to say sorry to? Destroy the Enforcers; stop saying sorry to people. The only thing left is to forgive yoursel-” she continues, then a breeze blows from nowhere and whisks her away, along with the rest of her sentence. But I know what she wants.
Chapter 11 - Unstoppable
Because my sister has told me stop finding everyone and saying sorry, I have to respect her ghostly wishes. It really isn’t necessary, but I want to . . . especially since I have the Enforcers to defeat.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
It’s the beginning of a freezing winter in Kandu, the few crinkled leaves of the great oak tree collected on the ground. My raven lands near me, silent and restless.
Rustle, rustle.
At first I thought it was the wind, but now I’m not so sure.
Rustle.
Cold hands reach around my neck, and an icy blade presses itself to my throat. Unafraid, I pull my own knife out and spin to face my attacker, positioning my own dagger below their stomach. A thin line of blood has appeared at my neck from the movement, but I ignore it. A stalemate is my specialty, I always win.
I can tell I have surprised the assailant, and the pressure on the knife gives a little and trembles momentarily. My eyes involuntarily travel up to see fair hair, large green eyes, and an aristocratic nose. I have never seen such a person with facial features of this combination, and it fascinates me. Who is this mysterious man with so little knowledge that he tries to ambush me?
“Don’t you know who I am?” we ask at the same time.
“Maybe you should answer that first.” I say quickly, before he himself can do so.
“You really don’t then. Take another look.”
Stepping back, I survey him. Tall and a little lanky, sharp chin, one eye a tiny bit lopsided, middle aged.
Nope. Not ringing a bell.
“Maybe you’ve got the wrong person?” I offer hopefully.
For a second he falters, but a teasing grin returns to his jaw. “Come on, Aelise! You don’t think I could forget my own child!”
UMM . . . WHAT? That is what I thought. What I said was, “UMM . . . WHAT?”
Am I hearing him correctly? The look on his face tells me yes. I tell myself no.
Head turning side to side and looking back, hair blowing into your eyes
Green ferns to your knees, white cloth tangling you
Strangled on the inside, falling to your death
Burning all around you, fiery inferno clashing with singed skin
Piercing pull of a bow on a violin, pulling through the flames
Leaping over; under; into, no escape from Hell
Pattering drops rebounding in bursts, blue and soaking
Fast paced dancing, feet racing patterns in the wet
Fleeting second when you fly sailing in the air, but still confined to the ground
Wind on the salt flats, crusty sand covering your legs
Towering walls of pressure, crushing down then away
Wind blowing through you, a sol
id yet hollow being
So . . . my father just put a knife to my neck?
Overwhelming waves of cold loneliness threaten to knock me down. My legs start weakening, I am fit to collapse. Secrets I looked for, parts of a tragic story I got.
Dead sister . . . saddened high-bred mother . . . wandering lone-man father . . . cruel assassin daughter. What more does the world have to hide from me?
Eventually I look back up at his face; I have finally met a person taller than me.
“If you . . . really are my . . . father,” I say slowly, barely choking the words out, “-please do me a kindness by helping me defeat the Enforcers.”
Who am I to ask my father for help?
A heavy silence settles over us. If it weren’t for the subject being discussed this would be a tranquil moment with the brown leaves falling and the sprawling tree behind us. A fair man talking to a dark girl, opposites but still related.
Just as I’m about to give up and walk back into Kandu, a hand on my shoulder stops me. “I’ll help, if it does you any good.”
Unwelcomed tears spill down my cheeks, a drop landing on my foot. “Thank you,”
A cold, abandoned part of me makes me continue walking away, back into the gloom of the city. If he will really help, he will follow on his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My father’s name is Ript. He was an engineer before he decided to leave and be himself. Had I not asked him I probably never would know. I probably will never know even him for real.
“Quick! Through the back and head to the electronics room. Here’s a map, follow it closely!” I tell him hurriedly, trying to cram as much information into the little time we have before the sun rises. If we fail, there is no second chance.
Ript disappears into the darkness, a light hollow echo of his feet on the stairs sounding louder than it actually is.
We are about to detonate three black-marketed dirty bombs[1] filled with a highly radiative mix of isotopes including caesium-137, strontium-90, and iridium-192, all of which will cause a serious problem for the Enforcers’ health and reaction time. The plan is to set one off in the electronics room, one in the Enforcer living apartments, and one in the weaponry storage. Next I am to find the rest of the assassins, including Kivren, and escape with them to the oak tree as fast as I can. If any of the Enforcers manage to evacuate I will return with another assassin to pick them off. By then all of us will have taken multiple-situation potassium iodide capsules to ward off the radiative effect from the bombs. Once sure that all of the Enforcers are trapped by the radioactivity we will set off a real bomb which should blow the Concrete Chambers to bits.
A low whistle trills from somewhere in the building; my signal to run into the Concrete Chambers with the second dirty bomb. The capsules in my pocket press against my leg as I head in. Voices pound in my head, whispering that I shouldn’t mess this up. We’re still in blackout mode, so the whole place is enveloped in dusky shadows.
Even taking the back stairs four at a time, it still seems forever until I reach the oak doors of the Assignment Office. Beyond the office are the plush suites filled with rich luxury. Peeking in stealthily, I chuck the bomb down the rounded hall where all of the Enforcers converge in the mornings.
Hightailing it out of there with as much speed as possible is crucial, or I myself could suffer the effects of the bomb.
While speeding back out of the building I emit the deep whistle; Ript should be going in with the last bomb now.
Tense minutes go by. He should be done, right? Did something happen? My hands sweat profusely and the shiny fabric of the jumpsuit I’m wearing does nothing to absorb it. Almost bursting with anticipation and worry I am very relieved when the whistle sounds.
Ript comes bursting out, a slightly sick expression on his face. I dig into my pocket and grab the potassium iodide capsules only to find that on one of them the thin gelatinous layer holding the powder in has broken, rendering it useless. Trying not to think of myself, I thrust the intact pill into Ript’s mouth, preparing to enter the dangerous building with no protection.
This pattern of running in and running out is almost a sixth sense to me now. Urging myself faster and faster I rush to the assassin bedspaces, alerting Fever, the Tiger, and the Shark. Kivren is also in his room, but chained to the bed. Taking my new knife I grind at the chains so fast I swear sparks almost fly. It takes forever to finally cut through the metal enough to wrench the pieces apart, but we make up for lost time by piling down the dark staircase with lightning speed. Whistling as I go, I quickly tell the rest of the assassins where to hide, and how long to wait there. All of them are compliant and go across the city to the oak tree, along with Ript. He casts me a hesitant glance before leaving, I nod silently, saying everything I can’t say out loud.
All have gone, except for Kivren. He stays and promises to help me. The crystal eyes that had unsettled me so much from the beginning are now deepened by the knowledge of true pain and longing. Why does he insist to stay longer and experience more?
“Thank you for wanting to help.” I tell him, leaning forward a bit to kiss his cheek. A token of friendship.
Kivren doesn’t respond, but turns to scan the building, looking for any lone Enforcers. After a few minutes of careful scrutiny we decide that there don’t seem to be any and proceed with the next step of the plan. Real, powerful, blowing-up bombs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The only reason why we used the dirty bombs was to keep the Enforcers and other members of the building stuck and injured. Now is when we get rid of them for real.
A hundred deaths to happen, all at the hand of a simple rocket shaped bomb. Who is really the massacring tool? Me or the bomb?
Using Kivren’s and my strength combined we launch the bomb up into the air. Yes, a very stupid, primitive way of doing it, but it’s all we have now. The arcing bomb curves gracefully down to connect with the side of the Concrete Chambers.
What happens afterwards is a beautiful, yet shaking sight.
Blasting chunks of concrete thudding as heavy rain, pretend marble of old
A plume of fire dancing its way down to the ground; we see shining gold
Glass shatters from the windows, a tinkling quartz shower
Heartfelt awakening, caressed with power
A mission accomplished, carried out by phantoms
A dark night in fear, lit up by lanterns
The victory
PART 4 - Finally Free
Soaring, soaring high as I can
To forgiveness I am bound
Into the peaceful paradise of blue
Far above the falling ground
Dark the place where I once lay
As I dared to take this flight
No more an assassin live in me
As I soar into freedom's bright light
Chapter 12 - Who Regrets?
A light snow starts falling. The crystal white flakes dance gently before landing in my dark hair, crowning me queen of destruction. Had the sharp bite of cold not been nipping at us we could have pretended it was ashes raining from the sky.
The Congregation of Misfits we are. A reserved respect for the ended tyrannous control of the Enforcers sink through us, layer after layer of conflicting emotions holding us in place and silence. We have finally done it, but what joy does this accomplishment bring? Close to none . . . only the hard recognizing of what they did to us, and what we must do to forget the past.
“Suppose we should move along?” the Shark assassin asks, his voice lilting in a foreign accent.
“Where now? Where to go?” Fever replies bitterly. “All we’ve known so far in our lives has been destroyed. Our parents-if we even have any-wouldn’t know us, we wouldn’t know them. No friends, no life, no chance.”
“Untrue.” I say softly, not wanting to invoke more anger, even though my own crushed resolve threatens to explode too. “Just before I came back, I met my mother.
Ript here . . . he’s my father.”
Swallowing hard, with all eyes on me, I continue. “I talked with the sister of a boy I killed. I did many things that reminded me of how alike to others we are, if we only forgive. I was told something of the sort by a . . . ghost-like apparition.”
“Aelise, that’s just stupid.” Fever.
“And . . . you want us to believe that?” Shark.
“I don’t agree with you. No one does.” Tiger.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to listen to me. Be grateful I saved your sorry butts though. You can leave now, too.” I glare at them, daring them to stay. Kivren hasn’t said anything, so I grab his and Ript’s hands and pull them up with me high into the oak tree. From there I watch the three assassins below. I know they want to leave, but they have nowhere to go.
“Thank you, Aelise.” my father says, a twinkle in his eye. “You could have died but you gave me the capsule anyways. A good daughter.”
I smile shyly at him. It finally sinks in: I have a father.
A blast of chilly wind sends us wrapping our cloaks tighter around ourselves. We close our eyes against the cold and sleep, up high in the oak tree. Such a symbolic tree.
Whisk me away to a place where life is livable . . .
Chapter 13 - Truly, At Last
The raven lands calmly on my shoulder. I look at it and smile secretly. Eventually, I look at the smoking remains of my former home, feel the snow fluttering in my face, and take a deep breath. Then I let go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let the end of the story be short, only because it consists of my coming to terms with myself.
Since I have been convinced by a man I am proud to call my father, and a smart but ruined assassin named Kivren I can finally open my eyes to the world and what it has to offer. Deep inside my head I truly wished for a family . . . it is still incomplete, missing a sister and a mother, but for now I can make do. To become a wanderer like Ript, but to keep some old assassin is plenty good for me.
They gave me a lie, I threw the truth back at them. If we couldn’t escape, why should they be able to?
I can say I’ve lived now, an emotional and physical toil that scraped recklessly at my existence on the planet.