On Death's Honor

Chapter 2: Blood and Water

A small town resided on the other side of the bay, stretching along the coast due west, and while we were too far away to really hear anything, I could almost make out the excited cheers and yells, the slow, mystical music that the people had the tendency to play this time of year. Buildings made of bleak gray stone were adorned with candles and lanterns. Outside torches lined paved dirt roads. A massive bonfire had people circling around it further inland - and in the middle of said bonfire stood a giant wooden totem of an eagle attempting to push itself off from the ground, its head angled up at the sky with its wings lifted high above its head.

Igna gapped in awe, tilting her head in wonder.

"What are they doing?"

I glanced over at her.

"You've never seen a totem dance?"

She shook her head.

"I - I've heard of it, but . . ." She paused. "I've never seen so much light like this before - not when it's night."

"Frightening, isn't it?" I said without thinking, then cursed when she gave me a puzzled look.

"How so?"

I pointed to the fire.

"When you're in a place that darkness thrives, you learn to fear the light."

"Why?"

"Because the light will kill you faster."

She frowned. I decided to ignore the careful look she was giving me and instead glanced over the bay. I pointed when I found what I was looking for.

Three silvery figures rose from the water, formless and yet still very, very beautiful as they moved over the surface of the water. The large bonfire was on the other side of the buildings, yet, somehow, the figures were able to mimic the movements of their human counterparts, morphing their shapes to give themselves an image of man before clasping each others' hands in a small circle.

Then they began to dance.

It was rumored that anyone watching from the shoreline would be taken and eaten by lovers that had long since claimed the water sprites - lovers that were anything but human. No one knows for sure what they looked like, but enough disappearances occurred on this particular night that most people were content on getting as far away from the water as possible, going as far as making sure every corner is alit so as not to be caught off guard by the beasts lurking in the dark.

Clearly, this wasn't entirely true, otherwise we wouldn't know the water sprites were there to begin with.

If Igna was going to say something, she obviously decided against it when she saw the silvery dancers, crouching down and peering over the cliff to try getting a better view.

"Mutnya never let me get this close to them," she mumbled, tilting her head. I furrowed my brow. We could barely see them from way up here, but I didn't say anything.

You should do it now, while she's distracted.

Eyes fixed on her bare, pale back, I moved to unsheathe the longer blade at my side. Nymph skin was slightly different than human; depending on the race, their flesh could range from thick and scaly to tight and reflective. Igna was as pale as the moon, but it was also embedded with gray-white streaks that resembled tree bark. Tougher than human flesh, almost as tough as a tree itself. A normal sword wouldn't have an easy time with her.

Which was why my sword wasn't a normal sword.

"Do you believe in the afterlife?" she asked suddenly, and while her eyes were fixed on the water below, I had a feeling she knew exactly what was about to happen.

It was a question I was accustomed to hearing from other men. Not so much other creatures. As if sensing my thoughts, the girl continued, her words coming in quick, frantic gasps.

"I know the gods are real. But are they really gods? Can't they die?"

"They can," I relented, sparing a glance over my shoulder. I didn't like talking about gods. They weren't all-knowing or all-powerful, but I knew all too well that speaking their names often drew their attention.

"So if the people that created the world can die, is the afterlife real? Is it eternal?"

"There's forces older than even the gods, kid." I didn't mean for it to sound so spiteful, tossing out the words as if they were pure bile resting on my tongue. I forced myself to calm down when the girl quieted, her small body trembling. "But you'll be okay. Nymphs don't go to hell."

"They - they don't?"

"Your mistress will," I corrected. "You won't."

"Why-"

Way below us, the water sprites slowed in their dance, gradually breaking up the circle while they maintained their humanoid forms. One by one, they turned around, facing the cliff we stood on as if they knew we were here.

I took the moment to quietly step forward, plunging my sword through Igna's upper back where I knew her heart was.

I hated that it was a clean cut. That she had been speaking mid-sentence, let out a soft gasp, and then stopped altogether. She shouldn't have had to die. I could've let her go. Let her turn on me. Give me wounds that would scar, pain that would distract me over the next several days, weeks, months. Something to curse her name in.

Instead, I had staged her death to show what it really was: a murder. And regardless of her reasons - whether she was just desperate to escape her mistress or she believed that I wouldn't really kill her - she had willingly played along. She'd acted the role of an innocent child watching one of the world's most mystical phenomenons, and I played a killer that only ever lurked in the shadows.

One more contract, I told myself. "Just one more."

Holding my bloodied sword in one hand, I reached under my cloak to retrieve a tightly folded piece of parchment. Unraveling the paper, I gently slid it down the blade until it skimmed over the brownish-red blood.

A burst of light shot forth from the paper, only to be gone moments later.

By the time I folded the parchment back up, my sword reflected the moonlight from its dark surface like it had never been soiled.

Now to go find the evil bitch that led me here.

~ 1744 Words ~