The Silenced Speaker

Chapter 2 - A Better Gambler

Edited.

If you proceed to the next chapter, you'll find that it doesn't make much sense, but I hope you can guess what fits between. Thank you ^_^

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Tathiette screamed as she was forced forward by the jab, her unprotected neck sliced lightly by the sword blade. The streak of scarlet spread fast, trickling down like a crimson tears.

The moment was frozen from fifty different angles, similarly interpreted into uneasy thoughts.

The assassin beside Roxanne was ostensibly satisfied with the change of tide; he strode towards his companion, proud and relieved to see the guards shifting to make way for him. In no time he would be back to where he came from - failing the mission, inevitably, but at least with nearly enough intelligence to make up for his failure.

Walking or running, these men had a sort of grace in their movements, as if they were gliding on even water or skiing through snow. Roxanne scowled; her thumb traced the runes on her dagger that she had long since memorized by heart. It was the unnerving identicalness in the ways they moved that irked her. They wore the same attire, moved and acted as one, that there seemed to be no individuals.

The man was already hurrying towards the Princess - or rather, the other man who held her hostage - evidently eager to escape. They were heavily surrounded by the guards, but with all of them immobile, they were of little use. The assassins were having this their way.

Not so fast.

A flash of silver blazed, sudden and swift.

The fourth assassin stopped dead at the chilling sensation of cold metal at his throat. He dared not to turn to see what was happening, but stood stiffly, willing his attacker to show himself.

It was a girl. Her long blond hair was bound up casually with a black ribbon, her eyes colder than ice. For a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him; the way she held her dagger with utmost confidence, the way she smiled at him as if she dominated the world, the way her aquamarine eyes contained no humour or warmth, they weren't supposed to be there, not on a girl no older than fifteen or sixteen.

Surprise and horror flashed in his companion's eyes. They were welled concealed, imperceptible for many, but not for Roxanne. The corners of her lips curled up, a little in triumph, a little in amusement, more in mockery.

Didn't they know that an assassin should never show emotions?

The costs of the amateurism are high.

The word that had caught her attention before was 'us'. How cold-blooded can these people be, not sparing a glance of repentance at the sight of their dead companions? Their loyalty was only tied to whoever they had worked for. Why, then, did the assassin asked specifically for his companion to be spared? There could be many answers. It was a risk, but it was her only chance.

With her countenance unchanged, almost carelessly, she brought the dagger closer to the neck of her hostage, slicing lightly. The wound was even smaller than that of the Princess's - that for a moment the other assassin only thought she was paying back the harm he had done to her Princess - but the shock caused by it was far greater.

The blood flowed out, black as tar; the victim gasped from the sudden pain, his eyes dead and empty. After a brief moment he seemed to be master of himself again, but suddenly fatigued, fell back. The girl was hardly surprised. She snapped, beckoned for a guard to support him before he could fall.

They were the symptoms of being poisoned.

"What did you do?" the other assassin growled. His expression was calm enough, but his eyes betrayed him. They were like a brewing storm waiting to break; the anger was suppressed, but not enough.