The Medjay's Shadow

Chapter 01: Talon

Blood pooled hot over Tali's fingers. Too late, he felt the crackle of energy, a hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him there with his knife still embedded in flesh.

It came in a flash, brilliant light and blinding pain that struck like a battering ram, throwing him backwards to the ground so hard it would have torn the breath from him had he any breath to spare. Agony rolled through his bones, ripping the air from his lungs and a raw scream from his throat. He did not hear it, his ears ringing a quiet, high pitched whistle that deafened everything else, numbing the turbulent sounds around him.

He blinked, half blind, and a shape fell beside him. Amon's head thumped against stone. She gazed at him, blood pouring from her nose, trickling from her mouth, streaming bloody tears from her eyes down the side of her face. Her lips twitched, almost unnoticeable, but the rest of her was so still Tali saw it as she smiled at him.

Her eyes lost focus, the light and warmth seeping away as her life left her. Tali knew this, because he had seen it before. He had seen it before, and this was the same.

Amon was dead, and it was his fault.

PART 1 - THE ASSASSIN FROM KERES

Chapter 01: Talon

Tali crept across the flat roofs, light-footed as he manoeuvred old mud brick walls that were crumbling at the edges. His target walked the streets below, calm and unaware of the shadow following from above. The man had a knife at his hip, hooked and serrated at the end for gutting fish, and was easily twice Tali's size. In a one-on-one fight, Tali might have been in trouble, but he was not worried. The man would not get a chance to draw his blade.

On the man's left bicep was a tattoo, some sort of bird poorly marked into his skin by an artist who clearly had not known what they were doing. It was puckered around the edges, probably from infection while it had been healing, and faded enough it had to be at least two decades old. The man bore his skin to show it off proudly, but that pride had allowed Tali to mark him.

The man turned down the next street, though only in Keres would a space too narrow for two men to walk without brushing shoulders be called a street. Tali hopped across the roofs after him, crouching low under the moonlight. Not that it really mattered. The man would not see him, not unless he was already looking for him.

The man stopped halfway down the street, and turned towards the wall to relieve his balder. Tali crawled down the wall behind him and waited, deciding to leave the man his dignity—and preferring to avoid getting pissed on, a priority he had learned the hard way.

He did not know who the man was, or what he had done to put a bounty on his head. But the contractor who gave Tali his jobs told him he had been requested specifically. He had a reputation for being quiet and swift, unlike many of the messy bounty hunters that lurked the city of Keres with him. Sometimes, people just wanted someone gone with no fuss, and they paid well for it. Tali did not know this man's crimes, but he did not care.

He let the man finish adjusting his pants, then crept up behind him, drew one of his twin knives, and ran it across the man's throat.

The man jerked at the touch of the knife, and turned around. The spray of blood caught Tali off guard, and he did not move away in time to avoid getting covered in it before the man slumped dead to the ground.

Tali whipped blood out of his eyes and swore. He continued to mutter curses to the dead man as he cut the tattoo off his arm and cleaned his knife on his pants. Blood was stuck in the engraving on the blade, but Tali could pick it out when it dried. He tried to take care of his knives, the only things he had kept from his life before Keres, and nicer than anything else he owned. He tried to wipe the leather grip clean on his tunic—he was going to be spending half his bounty just cleaning himself and his clothes anyway. Gods damn the bastard for turning around.