Entry 04 - West
Title: West
Entry Number: 04
Author: luna_moonsilver
Rating: PG
Genre: Fantasy
Word count: 1,490
A/N: Set in the fantasy 'verse, not the time travel one and comes more or less directly after this piece (also posted to this comm).
Paeln was quiet in the morning, Bruis noticed. No one looked his way as he wandered slowly through the square, unsure as to where exactly he should begin searching for the prince. If the assassin knew someone here, then it might be best to ask questions about her instead; people would notice if he began to ask about Prince Sable, but if she seemed like an ordinary woman-
He dismounted outside of one of the taverns, tying his horse to a fence. She whinnied and he patted her on the nose. He'd get her some water just as soon as he was done here; if he had to go anywhere else, he would have to pick up supplies, anyway.
The tavern was dark and dingy in the morning light, though the tables were clean. A man was near the bar, sweeping the floor and looked up at Bruis with sharp eyes.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
Bruis shifted from foot to foot. It wasn't in his nature to be forward, but with Oistin and the others likely less than a day behind... "I need to know if you've seen a woman here. A red-haired woman."
The man leaned back against the bar. "And if I have, what of it?"
"Nothing," Bruis assured him hastily. "I simply need to speak with her and the man she rides with."
"I don't know anything of your man," he said, "But someone did come in here and drag her out. Darian. He lives down the street with Laurel - the house with the dark red door. Ask 'em all you want, they won't give you answers."
Bruis nodded. Any news was good news, at this point. "Thank you," he said and rushed out of the tavern.
*
Darian blinked himself awake when he heard the knock at the door, jumping to his feet when he realised - that meant there was someone at the door. Laurel lifted her head from the pillow beside him, a knife already in her hand. He shook his head. It wouldn't be a threat, surely; probably just that little whelp Pyrite had brought with her - she'd most likely got sick of him by now and ditched him.
"I'll be back," he told Laurel. She nodded but the knife remained in her hand.
When he opened the door and saw the stranger, Darian didn't really know what he was contending with. He wasn't wearing the livery of the guards; he didn't look like someone who could fight at all, in fact - so not working for the palace or the Guild. Darian frowned at him and watched with a kind of morbid curiosity as the man blushed.
"I heard that- I'm looking for a red-haired woman and the man who's riding with her, and I heard-"
Okay. Now he knew what to do. Darian grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him inside, slamming the door to. The man let out an undignified squeak when Darian threw him up against the wall.
"Who are you?" he growled.
"My name is Bruis!" the man all but shouted. "I worked for Prince Sable; I just need to find him and give him something."
The creak on the stairs and Bruis' suddenly wide eyes meant that Laurel had come to see what all the commotion was about. Darian looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded. He was telling the truth then, Darian guessed.
He let go of Bruis and stepped back. The man was a head shorter than him, not at all imposing, but there was some determination in his stance that Darian appreciated. "Where did he and the red-haired woman go?" he asked.
"The red-haired woman is named Pyrite," Laurel said, "And we do not know where they went. We told them to be gone here before sunrise yesterday."
Bruis rubbed his forehead. "You have no idea?" he asked.
Laurel shook her head but Darian cleared his throat. "They headed west of here," he said. "Towards the coast."
Laurel shot him a questioning look, but he simply shrugged. Bruis was smiling now, smiling and nodding. "Thank you so much," he said. He was already scrabbling for the door handle and Darian felt his lips quirk; the man didn't know they used to be assassins, sure, but he knew that they weren't good news, either. He stumbled out onto the street and Darian watched as he ran to fetch his horse. He would probably catch up with Pyrite.
*
Oistin rode into Paeln around midday. He sought for answers but received nothing; no one had seen anyone matching Prince Sable's description - or if they had, they weren't telling him that.
Slone sighed when the sun began to set. "We cannot stay here after all the commotion we've caused," he said. "They'll come around in the night, try to get us back."
Oistin nodded. "You're right," he said. "Tell the men to saddle up. We'll head east. He might have made a run to the coast to begin with."
Slone knew what he was thinking - damn that old man, thinking he could lead them on a chase like this - but as usual, his friend didn't comment. He rounded up the men with a deceptive grace and they headed out of Paeln again.
They made camp when it was dark. Oistin sighed and stared up at the stars. He would get this prince, one way or another.
*
Another man rode into Paeln that night, though nobody saw him. He knew where to go and didn't bother to knock on the little red door of the house he strode up to. There was no need. It would just give away his plans; and his plans were all he had, now-
The stair creaked and there was an answering rustle from above, though nothing came of it. Atalo smirked to himself. He knew he had the right house, but it was disappointing that his students were slipping so. He climbed the rest of the stairs and made his way into the bedroom. Stood at the foot of the bed for a moment as he contemplated his next actions.
He needed information. Pyrite had been his student; his to teach and his to finish, should the need arise. The need had arisen. He was not about to let her escape.
Hali awoke at the touch of steel on her skin, her eyes snapping open like she'd never been sleeping. Jairus shifted beside her, like he sensed the danger, but she didn't move.
"Tell me where Pyrite went," Atalo murmured. "And I'll not hurt either of you."
"How did you know we were here?" she asked.
Atalo rolled his eyes. "You left too many signs, my dear. In all the wrong places."
Hali didn't move for a long moment. "I can't," she said finally.
Jairus woke then, as if the words had triggered something, but when he moved, Atalo planted a hand firmly on his chest, forcing him down again. "Don't," he said. "I will kill her, if you move."
A muscle in Jairus' jaw clenched, but he didn't move. Hali looked furious. "We don't know where Pyrite is!" she said. "We made her leave us almost as soon as she arrived."
Atalo dug the knife in a little. "Do you want him to watch, as I kill you?" There was a surge of self-satisfaction when her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Good. Now tell me the truth. Where did she go?"
Jairus shook his head. "You should know us better, Atalo. You trained us. You taught us how to never give up information."
"I also taught you not to be cowards and yet you ran away and forged new identities for yourselves. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?"
He was met with silence. Hali wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't have orders to kill you both, you know," Atalo said. "Technically, the Guild's saying you're dead, even though they knew you're alive. If you tell me where Pyrite went, I'll let you live."
Jairus opened his mouth, but Hali clutched his hand, squeezing tight. "You know he won't," she whispered urgently, then looked up at Atalo. "You won't."
The knife caught her bronze skin and a trail of blood crept down her neck, splashing onto the pale sheets. "No," he said. "I won't."
*
Atalo left the house a few hours later. His hands were clean, not a trace of blood on his clothes.
He smirked to himself as he mounted his horse. He did not envy the person who would make that little discovery.
With a chuckle, he turned the horse around, riding out of Paeln. The soldiers would have gone to the coast; would have assumed the little prince would be heading straight for Ethrial, to some place where they couldn't be followed.
No.
Atalo knew better, and so he headed west.
Entry Number: 04
Author: luna_moonsilver
Rating: PG
Genre: Fantasy
Word count: 1,490
A/N: Set in the fantasy 'verse, not the time travel one and comes more or less directly after this piece (also posted to this comm).
Paeln was quiet in the morning, Bruis noticed. No one looked his way as he wandered slowly through the square, unsure as to where exactly he should begin searching for the prince. If the assassin knew someone here, then it might be best to ask questions about her instead; people would notice if he began to ask about Prince Sable, but if she seemed like an ordinary woman-
He dismounted outside of one of the taverns, tying his horse to a fence. She whinnied and he patted her on the nose. He'd get her some water just as soon as he was done here; if he had to go anywhere else, he would have to pick up supplies, anyway.
The tavern was dark and dingy in the morning light, though the tables were clean. A man was near the bar, sweeping the floor and looked up at Bruis with sharp eyes.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
Bruis shifted from foot to foot. It wasn't in his nature to be forward, but with Oistin and the others likely less than a day behind... "I need to know if you've seen a woman here. A red-haired woman."
The man leaned back against the bar. "And if I have, what of it?"
"Nothing," Bruis assured him hastily. "I simply need to speak with her and the man she rides with."
"I don't know anything of your man," he said, "But someone did come in here and drag her out. Darian. He lives down the street with Laurel - the house with the dark red door. Ask 'em all you want, they won't give you answers."
Bruis nodded. Any news was good news, at this point. "Thank you," he said and rushed out of the tavern.
*
Darian blinked himself awake when he heard the knock at the door, jumping to his feet when he realised - that meant there was someone at the door. Laurel lifted her head from the pillow beside him, a knife already in her hand. He shook his head. It wouldn't be a threat, surely; probably just that little whelp Pyrite had brought with her - she'd most likely got sick of him by now and ditched him.
"I'll be back," he told Laurel. She nodded but the knife remained in her hand.
When he opened the door and saw the stranger, Darian didn't really know what he was contending with. He wasn't wearing the livery of the guards; he didn't look like someone who could fight at all, in fact - so not working for the palace or the Guild. Darian frowned at him and watched with a kind of morbid curiosity as the man blushed.
"I heard that- I'm looking for a red-haired woman and the man who's riding with her, and I heard-"
Okay. Now he knew what to do. Darian grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him inside, slamming the door to. The man let out an undignified squeak when Darian threw him up against the wall.
"Who are you?" he growled.
"My name is Bruis!" the man all but shouted. "I worked for Prince Sable; I just need to find him and give him something."
The creak on the stairs and Bruis' suddenly wide eyes meant that Laurel had come to see what all the commotion was about. Darian looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded. He was telling the truth then, Darian guessed.
He let go of Bruis and stepped back. The man was a head shorter than him, not at all imposing, but there was some determination in his stance that Darian appreciated. "Where did he and the red-haired woman go?" he asked.
"The red-haired woman is named Pyrite," Laurel said, "And we do not know where they went. We told them to be gone here before sunrise yesterday."
Bruis rubbed his forehead. "You have no idea?" he asked.
Laurel shook her head but Darian cleared his throat. "They headed west of here," he said. "Towards the coast."
Laurel shot him a questioning look, but he simply shrugged. Bruis was smiling now, smiling and nodding. "Thank you so much," he said. He was already scrabbling for the door handle and Darian felt his lips quirk; the man didn't know they used to be assassins, sure, but he knew that they weren't good news, either. He stumbled out onto the street and Darian watched as he ran to fetch his horse. He would probably catch up with Pyrite.
*
Oistin rode into Paeln around midday. He sought for answers but received nothing; no one had seen anyone matching Prince Sable's description - or if they had, they weren't telling him that.
Slone sighed when the sun began to set. "We cannot stay here after all the commotion we've caused," he said. "They'll come around in the night, try to get us back."
Oistin nodded. "You're right," he said. "Tell the men to saddle up. We'll head east. He might have made a run to the coast to begin with."
Slone knew what he was thinking - damn that old man, thinking he could lead them on a chase like this - but as usual, his friend didn't comment. He rounded up the men with a deceptive grace and they headed out of Paeln again.
They made camp when it was dark. Oistin sighed and stared up at the stars. He would get this prince, one way or another.
*
Another man rode into Paeln that night, though nobody saw him. He knew where to go and didn't bother to knock on the little red door of the house he strode up to. There was no need. It would just give away his plans; and his plans were all he had, now-
The stair creaked and there was an answering rustle from above, though nothing came of it. Atalo smirked to himself. He knew he had the right house, but it was disappointing that his students were slipping so. He climbed the rest of the stairs and made his way into the bedroom. Stood at the foot of the bed for a moment as he contemplated his next actions.
He needed information. Pyrite had been his student; his to teach and his to finish, should the need arise. The need had arisen. He was not about to let her escape.
Hali awoke at the touch of steel on her skin, her eyes snapping open like she'd never been sleeping. Jairus shifted beside her, like he sensed the danger, but she didn't move.
"Tell me where Pyrite went," Atalo murmured. "And I'll not hurt either of you."
"How did you know we were here?" she asked.
Atalo rolled his eyes. "You left too many signs, my dear. In all the wrong places."
Hali didn't move for a long moment. "I can't," she said finally.
Jairus woke then, as if the words had triggered something, but when he moved, Atalo planted a hand firmly on his chest, forcing him down again. "Don't," he said. "I will kill her, if you move."
A muscle in Jairus' jaw clenched, but he didn't move. Hali looked furious. "We don't know where Pyrite is!" she said. "We made her leave us almost as soon as she arrived."
Atalo dug the knife in a little. "Do you want him to watch, as I kill you?" There was a surge of self-satisfaction when her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Good. Now tell me the truth. Where did she go?"
Jairus shook his head. "You should know us better, Atalo. You trained us. You taught us how to never give up information."
"I also taught you not to be cowards and yet you ran away and forged new identities for yourselves. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?"
He was met with silence. Hali wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't have orders to kill you both, you know," Atalo said. "Technically, the Guild's saying you're dead, even though they knew you're alive. If you tell me where Pyrite went, I'll let you live."
Jairus opened his mouth, but Hali clutched his hand, squeezing tight. "You know he won't," she whispered urgently, then looked up at Atalo. "You won't."
The knife caught her bronze skin and a trail of blood crept down her neck, splashing onto the pale sheets. "No," he said. "I won't."
*
Atalo left the house a few hours later. His hands were clean, not a trace of blood on his clothes.
He smirked to himself as he mounted his horse. He did not envy the person who would make that little discovery.
With a chuckle, he turned the horse around, riding out of Paeln. The soldiers would have gone to the coast; would have assumed the little prince would be heading straight for Ethrial, to some place where they couldn't be followed.
No.
Atalo knew better, and so he headed west.