Blood Moon [STV: J/P fic]: Chapters I-V

[sydneyalexis]

Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis
I [One]

My mother told me once that only evil comes during the blood moon. I wish I had listened to her; it would have afforded me a lifetime of pain and suffering. My journey began so innocently though that I thought nothing of it at the time...


I was traveling through the Mycanae province at the northernmost region of His Majesty's land to return home. Nearly a year had passed since I last saw my family. Little Miral had just celebrated her fifth birthday, and I had a son, Johnathan, whom I had never seen. My wife had assured me that he would be a strong man if the power with which he cried was any indication. She had further stated that, unlike her and my daughter, Johnathan had tufts of blond hair like I.

I still carry my wife's letters that she sent to me during my time away from her. Though the words have all been ingrained in my memory, I carry them in my coat pocket because they still bare her scent, but I digress...

Atreus, my home village, was a small agrarian village that spanned the length of a valley. The entire community could clearly be seen by any of the hills around its parameter. It's location made it an excellent spot for raising animals and crops but was strategically venerable.

Even before my squire, Harold, and I crested the last incline, I could see gray smoke rising from the valley. Being that it was the tenth month, I put little concern into it. October had traditionally been the month to slaughter hogs. The flesh of which were burned to make cracklings. Those fire pits would burn well on into the night, as this was a major export to outlying areas. The smell of burning fat was also a tell tale sign.

"Sir, are you sure that your family will not mind taking me as a guest? His Majesty was kind enough to give me enough gold pieces to stay in the local inn," my squire said, turning towards me.

"Nonsense, Harry, my wife will love you, and I am sure the children will enjoy your stories. Just be sure to keep them clean..." I said, my voice trailing off. In the length of our short conversation, we had reached the point were I could see Atreus- or rather - what was left of it.

I felt a great uneasiness rise within me... an inner sickness that stays with me to this day when I recall the carnage I witnessed in those hours. I dug my heels into the side of my horse and rode her hard into that valley. My mind so focused on praying to the Almighty that I couldn't hear any of Harry's comments. The beast that I rode was one of the king's finest - a gift of a true thoroughbred for services rendered. Looking back, I wish he had given me an old mare that would have lengthen the journey long enough that I would have been called back to arms. Anything to keep me from witnessing what I did.

The closer I came to Atreus the more prevalent the remains of a massacre became. Most of the main paths were littered with bodies in a puddle of their own blood. Bodies that were once friends and neighbors that I had grown up with. Some houses were burned to the ground. The remnants of which were still smoldering. But the worst...the most despicable of all the acts was what was being done to the bodies. They were quartered, skewered, placed on the fire pits, and left to roast like animals. The sight turned made my stomach turn.

Seeing that a handful of soldiers were still there, I drew my sword high and charged them. I ran three through on my first pass, and then chased those that fled like cowards towards the hill. They were no match for my steed on an uphill climb. Focusing on one of the murderers, I dismounted and placed the blade of my sword against the ensnared man's throat. Blood rage had taken over. My respiration was labored, my heart beating as if in battle, and the only thought in my mind was to kill every last one of them.

"Who ordered you to do this?"

The man at my feet began to tremble and whimper like a small child. "Do...don't kill me milord. I was only acting under orders."

"Whose orders?" I repeated, grinding my teeth together. I could feel myself growing dangerously impatient.

"Crycus," the man breathed.

My mind whirled as it made the connection. I knew of only one man named Crycus. He had been my best friend as a child, but had disappeared not long before I was sent to work as a page on His Majesty's castle. Surely he wouldn't do anything like this?

"Where is his camp?"

A brief pause followed. The man was struggling between loyalty to his master and wanting to live. I pressed the issue or should I say blade into the top layer of skin. Feeling blood tricking down his neck was enough to jog his memory.

"He sent a small band of us from his base in from Chaldea. He didn't actually come himself."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at the helpless man. Then, in the first act of rage I'd ever had, I pierced through flesh of his neck and sliced through to the main artery. I watched, disconnected from my self, as the sticky liquid poured out onto the crimson soaked grass below.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I didn't turn to see who it was. "Sir, I caught the last of the men. What shall I do with them?"

"Kill them. Collect the villagers and bury them." I said, leaving the pale gray body before me and walking towards my house in the distance.

"But Sir, they surrendered," Harry said, running in front of me. I altered my path to avoid him. He, in turn, began walking at my side.

"Don't question me. Just do it."

"Yes, Sir," Harry said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss."

I stopped briefly and saw a reflection of my younger self in his eyes. They still held innocence the same one that I had lost that morning and would never regain. That morning, I lost my family, my god, and my country, but I didn't know the latter just yet.

§¤☼¤§

The outside of my home was exactly as I remembered it being. Timber connected by pegs, a thatch roof, small flowerpots with daisies growing in them, toys scattered around the parameter. The door though...an ominous bloody hand print was dried onto the wood frame just above the door latch. I felt an unfamiliar lump in my throat. My intuition was screaming at me not to enter, but I had to know. With trembling fingers I reached for the latch and lifted it up. The door swung open before me.

Nothing in my life could have ever possibly prepared me for what I saw when I stepped inside. I waited momentarily for my eyes to adjust to the new amount of light in the room. The first thing that I noticed was the floor boards; they were all soaked through with blood. The main kitchen table, right near the entrance, was overturned. Chairs, pots, pans, and blankets were strewn about the room. I stepped around them cautiously, my sword drawn.

My first stop was my children's bedroom. It was just to the right of the main living area. Pushing the door opened with one hand while preparing for an attack with my body, I was greeted by the sight of a small bundle hidden under a blood soaked blanket. With the point of my sword, I lifted the fabric off and tossed it aside. My eyes came to rest upon my daughter's ridged body. Her eyes were frozen wide with terror. Her hands clutching the rosary I had brought her for her first communion. A jagged wound was evident on her chest. I took no time to morn; I still had two people to account for.

After covering my daughter again, I went to the crib, noting that both my son and his blankets were missing. I exited the first bedroom, crossed the kitchen and living room, and entered my own bedroom. It was there that my worst fears were confirmed. My son was on the bed. His small body was unmoving and covered with a blood soaked blanket just as his sister was. My wife, on the other hand, was not there.

With no other rooms to search through in my house, I left it and entered my barn. There, hanging from one of the main support beams, was my wife. Naked, battered, bruised, covered in dried blood, she was hanged like a slaughtered animal. Her tongue lolled forward, her eyes bulging, but the most grievous of all her wounds was the gaping opening in her chest cavity.

"Lanna," I whispered. Fighting back the bile that had risen in my throat, I went to her body and cut her down. Removing the ring I had given her when we were joined, I covered her body, and left my barn for the last time carrying her corpse. I lined my family up side by side taking great pains to cover them all.

Once my gruesome task was complete, I walked out into the field of crops she had planted and fell to my knees. My shaking hands gripped onto the ring I held in my hands while my eyes looked towards the heavens searching for answers from a silent god.

That evening Harry helped me construct a funeral pyre. He watched as I placed my wife, son, and daughter's bodies onto the flames. He said nothing as I honored them in the ancient traditions. I prayed to Hades to grant them passage into the Elysian Fields, to the God and Goddess for forgiveness for turning my back on them, and to Athena, my patron deity.

He left me there to start a fire at our campsite. Somehow I felt I should honor them by standing guard until the last ember had fizzled out.

As the last flames began to die down, my attention was drawn to the night's sky. The earth was clouded with the red light of a blood moon. Religious zealots had always warned that it was an omen for darkness to come. I thought, quite foolishly, that it symbolized the malevolence of that morning when, in actuality, it was for the evil that gripped me.

I took my wife's ring from my pocket and affixed it to the silk cord around my neck that bore His Majesty's crest.

"I will avenge your deaths, my love," I whispered into the nothingness of night.

"Our meal is ready, my lord," Harry called from behind me.

Food was a necessity that I neither wanted nor desired. Somehow filling my belly when I had just seen to my entire family's last rites seemed incomprehensible and callous. But I knew that Harry was doing all he could to ease my suffering. After all, he could have turned on me when I ordered him to kill those men, but he didn't. He could have taken me into custody for killing an unarmed man, but he didn't. Instead, he stood by and watched as a broken man placed his family on funeral pyre and saw them off in the old tradition a pagan tradition in the eyes of the current king. I walked the few feet to the campsite my squire and, in retrospect, my only true friend had set up.

"Harry, why do you insist on calling me sir?"

He gave me a confused expression which encouraged me to explain myself. "You've served under me for nearly your whole life and yet you still call me 'sir.' Never once have you used my name."

"Would you prefer I called you Lord Paris, sir?"

I gripped his shoulder, thinking this is the last I would see of him. "No, Harry. You may call me my Christian name, Tom."

"But sir..."

"You helped me see my family to the underworld. You helped me capture the parties that killed them. You're the closest thing I have to a son or a true friend."

"I'm honored, sir...I mean Tom."

I smiled at him. The boy had taken on a beaming grin. He regarded me for a long moment, his expression fading.

"You're going to Chaldea to kill Crycus, aren't you?" he breathed.

"The Furies will not let neither I nor my family know peace until I have killed him."

"Chaldea is supported by a century of soldiers. You'll never find a weakness in the system. Even if you survived and succeeded, the king will have you hanged for heresy and desertion when you return.

I looked at him with an unguarded expression. "I'm already dead," I said simply.

Harry paused, his face drained of color at my comment. Apparently he hadn't been expecting so much honesty from a man that had promised to be strong at all times for his kingdom.

"You're not thinking clearly. Give it a few days yet then decide."

I waited until he was asleep before taking my leave of him. I left him a parchment to take to the king respectfully asking for a leave of absence. I also suggested to the king that Harry was ready for his final test, and, should I not return alive, to allow him to take my place. Wrapped in that scroll was another written to Harry. I asked him to give me a few days to get underway before setting off for the main castle. Word spreads quickly, and I didn't need Crycus on alert.

II [Two]

I took passage on a boat across the Mediterranean Sea, landing on the port city of Latakai. From there, I traveled with a caravan of traders across the main land. I assumed the name Proteus, and carried a cargo of salt and cloth. I also took on side assignments as an assassin for hire to sharpen my skills and make the connections I would need later. None of the men that I killed were innocents. I did have standards.

Most of them men I killed were warlords, slave traders, black market dealers, or other assassins. I was paid quite well which allowed me to build up my store of weapons, food, and buy a few spies in Crycus' hideout. On the surface, I lived hand to mouth to give the impression that I was, in fact, an impoverished man. No one really notices the homeless; they are the silent eyes and ears of the street who witness more crimes than a king's fix-all man.

Years passed before I finally arrived at the Euphrates River. I felt my heart beat quicken involuntarily as I looked out across the clear blue water. My wind whirling at the notion that I was half a day's journey from Crycus' strong hold

After all this time, he would have relaxed security. I had, before taking my leave of my homeland, made sure that there were rumors circulating of my death. Despite that, I had a contingency plan. That night, I stayed up late polishing and sharpening the blade of my sword, encouraged on by the blood moon that loomed in the night sky.

§¤☼¤§

The next day I awoke before the sunrise, loaded my camel, and rode towards the massive bridge across the river. I reached Chaldea and found two sleeping guards by the main gate of the walled city. Leaving my ride near the river and a small patch of grass, I took the supplies I needed onto my back and walked towards the north wall.

Using well sharpened daggers, I pierced the adobe bricks and pulled myself up, scaling the wall with ease. I stopped just short of the top to listen for patrolling guards. Finding none, I scrambled over the top and landed deftly on the narrow catwalk. In the distance, I made out the image of a guard moving towards me. Knowing that the glint of my blade would catch the moonlight, I lowered myself to the ground below rather than attacking the man.

With due caution, I moved in the shadows along the parameter of the wall looking for a weakness in the defense. I found one near the stables in the rear. There was a cellar door that remained unbolted. Taking my chances, I sprinted across the courtyard, opened the cellar door, and climbed down the ladder. What I encountered next I had not been expecting- the tip of a saber digging into my spine.

"Climb down slowly," a voice whispered from behind. I obeyed it.

"Turn around," the voice said again. I began to question my own ears as I registered it as a female voice...

Slowly, I rotated towards my captor. In the dim candlelight of the room, I confirmed my suspicion; the voice was a woman's. I grasped the dagger I kept up my sleeve and brought it down on her sword wrist, making the weapon drop. I used my foot to kick the hilt into my free hand, and held the curved blade out to her neck, pausing finally to catch my breath.

"Go ahead. Do it," she said, evenly.

I motioned for her to back up until I could see her clearly in the dim candlelight light. "I'm not going to kill you...yet," I said.

Her gray eyes were empty… haunted... Long, auburn hair fell from her shoulders down her back. Her dress was fairly elaborate which suggested she was more than just a common servant in this house. A concubine perhaps?

My eyes darted around the tiny room. It was no wider than my own tiny home back in Greece, but was more elaborately decorated. Half a dozen columns lined the walls and between them were massive tapestries that depicted large scale battles, gods and goddess, and the banner of Crycus.

In the far corner, near the steps to the door, was a four poster bed. Covered in purple silks and brocades, it was obvious that someone of wealth either slept there or spent time there. To the left of me, a small vanity and directly across was an armoire.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

"Who are you?" she volleyed.

"So...you want to play it like that? Fine. I don't have time for this."

I motioned for her to turn around which she did, begrudgingly. I bound her wrists together tightly, and turned her back towards me. She seemed indifferent to her bindings.

"You aren't from here, are you?"

"What gave it away?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

"You carry yourself differently from the commoner...more upright. And not everyone can disarm someone as skillfully. My guess would be Roman or Greek training, but your coloring is wrong. You also have blue eyes. No one native born to this area has fair skin, hair or eyes. Perhaps from farther north?" she said, scanning my frame.

"What's your name?" I asked. Her boldness and intelligence intrigued me. Her final statement alone was enough to confirm my suspicions; she wasn't born here either. That could work to my advantage.

"Kathryn," she said. "And yours?"

"Proteus," I said, evenly. I judged her response, watching as the connection came into her eyes.

"The killer for hire? You know you'll be caught before you even get close enough."

"Doesn't matter. I'd rather die trying."

"Oh how noble! You know you've gone about this the wrong way. The only people that get close enough to Crycus are his trusted officers and his women."

"So that's what you are? One of his wives? Or a concubine?" I watched her face redden slightly and her shoulders droop.

"Not by choice."

Heavy footfalls approached from down the main hall. Kathryn's eyes met mine.

"You have to hide. They'll kill you if they find you."

"Why should I trust you?" I asked, questioning the wisdom of a compact with a woman I had known less than ten minutes.

"Because I want him dead as badly as you do."

I looked into her eyes, as I did before, to search for the truth. Sensing no deception, I went into the shadows created by the pillars against the wall.

"There is always only a single guard that comes for me. I'll distract him while you knock him unconscious."

I nodded in agreement, not questioning the orders that she gave me. I figured that, if all else fails and she betrayed me, I could at least take her with me to the underworld.

Just as she had said, a single guard descended the steps to her room. He was well built for a man his side. The weapon her carried was a more simplistic one than I expected and, by the rust building on the tip of it, I was lead to assume he hadn't ever used it in battle before. He also moved less like a trained warrior and more like an oaf. I suddenly felt disappointed by my opponent. Was this the level of expertise that had killed all the men in my village? Surely a contingency as bad as this couldn't have overpowered my friends.

I watched as Kathryn approached the man, wrapping her arms playfully around his neck and turning him from the location I had taken. She was whispering in his ear. Something she said stirred the man into pushing her against the wall and kissing her. An inexplicable jealousy stirred deep inside me, but I quelled it as quickly as it came. Loosing focus was not something that I needed. I took the opportunity afforded to me, and darted forward, smashing the hilt of my sword into his skull. The deafening crack splattered blood on the young woman. The guard slumped against her and slid down her body leaving a blood smear the length of her gown. She looked at me with a shocked expression on her face.

"I said knock him unconscious not kill him." she whispered. I shrugged my shoulders.

"You'll have to change. Can't go running down the halls covered in blood."

"You will too," she said, motioning towards the dead guard.

I disrobed the guard, changing his clothes out for my own. Luckily not much of the man's blood was on his garments. The blow must have made his heartbeat stop instantly.

After the swap, I drug the corpse into the shadows of the room and met up with Kathryn.

"You'll escort me to his bed chamber, but I get to make the kill," I said.

"Crycus' forces run deeper than just him. If you kill him, one of his lieutenants will take over and hunt you down. If you ever truly want to be safe, you'll have to find a way to kill all of them," she said, placing her hands on her hips. I'll give her this much- the woman was fearless to her dying breath. She never did back down. Not even to me.

"All right. I'll do it your way. It was my contingency plan anyway," I said, opening the door. "Now lead the way."

Kathryn finished washing the blood off her face and ambled passed me as if nothing had just happened. The walk to Crycus' room was a short one, presumably because he was too lazy to make any great journey to reach his harem. Slowly, the outline of two armed guards standing, arms crossed, one on either side of a massive, burgundy door came into focus.

"How many are there on the inside of his room?" I whispered to her.

"Just one guard- the one brings me."

"Anyone else?"

"No. He doesn't like his men to know he has trouble sometimes," she said, a glint of humor in her eyes. I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah. I don't usually come willingly. Grab my arm."

I nodded in response. "My guess is that you won't have to go through with it."

"Oh?"

"I intend on proving to him just how bad his security is."

No more could be said between us. We were too close to his room not to worry about being overheard. True to her word, Kathryn began to struggle against me. I was forced to drag her - literally - down the hall. One of the guards at the door began laughing in a rough, gritty voice. "Your night tonight, huh, sweetheart?" his voice thundered down the empty, cavernous hallway.

Kathryn pulled against my hold to angle herself close enough to spit at the guard. He raised his hand toward her to slap her, but I caught it midair. "Don't batter the merchandise. You'll only anger Crycus." I said, matching the man's vocal styles. He backed up and straightened his shoulders. The other guard stood back, chuckling.

I was forced to hold my breath as the stench from these two men was enough to make me physically ill. Their clothes and their body both spoke to a lack of personal hygiene. Granted, in parts of this desert landscape taking a bath was rare, but these idiots lived inches from a major waterway.

Aside from their smell, I noted that these men were built for combat. Their swords were expertly sharpened but covered with nicks that suggested ample usage. There arms were sculpted as if swordplay was a common occurrence, and, when I caught the first soldier's hand I noted the standard positioned calluses one would expect on a swordsmen.

"Go on in, the master's waiting for you," the second guard said, pushing the door open.

I edged Kathryn into the room, giving both of us time to adjust to the new lighting. This room was ablaze with dozens of lit candles that left few shadows in which to hide in. Quite thankfully, Kathryn was truthful in telling me there was no one but Crycus in the room.

And what a grandiose room it was. The main focal point of the room was a colossal sized bed that was ornately carved. Burgundy sheets and covers that matched the color on his crest as well as the door to his room covered the bed. And there, in the center of a pile of pillows was the object of my obsession- Crycus.

Still out of earshot and oblivious to our presence, I looked over at the man and knew in an instant that he was my old friend from years before. He bore the same blond curls and the same blue eyes shared by most of the people in my hometown. Seeing him there, glancing at a map spread across his bed, nearly naked, I was overcome with a familiar blood rage. It was the same feeling I had had in Atreus all those years before, but this time it was more intense. Suddenly, an idea came to me.

"How many people know what he looks like?"

"Just myself and his other wives. He hides his face when dealing with everyone else. It prevents him from being a marked target in public. Why?"

"Slight change in plans. Just be sure to keep him distracted."

"What are you going to do?" her eyes narrowed in pure terror.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her without any pretense. Time was of the essence. She paused briefly and looked up at me, suppressing the look of fear on her own features. Finally, she answered me.

"Yes," she said, simply. I squeezed her arm, reached behind her and locked the door, then pushed her forward into the room with enough force that she fell to her knees.

"Ah...good. You managed to force her into the room. Bravo, Luton. You may take your standard position," he said, pointing to the far wall. I nodded and moved in that general direction, but Crycus was lost in the sensations Kathryn was eagerly providing him. Once again I felt an unnatural jealousy creep into me.

I edged from the post I was given towards the headboard. In her peripheral view, Kathryn caught the movement. I motioned for her to move downward and out of the line of fire. She did as I asked and started a slow descent of his torso. Appreciative murmurs eliciting from Crycus' throat as she did so. I felt my stomach turn at the sound. My only conscious thought was the tiny but familiar voice that whispered sweetly in my ear. 'Kill him,' it said.

In one fluid movement, I grasped on to the sides of his head and jerked his neck quickly to the left. There was no scream, no blood, just the sickening sound of his spinal cord snapping and his limp body falling back on to the bed.

Kathryn gasped a little, but climbed off of the corpse without hesitation. Realization that she was now part of my scheme finally hit her. It was time for her to make up her decision- turn me in or join me.

I, on the other hand, slumped against the rear wall of the room. I'd just killed the man that had ordered my family's death, but, instead of the rush I had expected, I only felt empty. All my rage, all my reason for existing had slipped from me, and I was left with nothing but the pain and grief I should have felt in the first place. In exacting my revenge I had become a monster as well. It was an anticlimax at best.

I felt the back of a hand touch my face. My eyes finally focused on the hastily dressed woman. She slid down onto the floor and sat beside me.

"You must have loved her a great deal to go through all of this."

"I did," I managed to say, somehow. I tried in vain not to cry.

"How long do we have?"

"All night. He usually keeps me till the morning."

"Is there another way out of here?" I asked, slipping back into the calculated killer I had become.

"Yes. There is a tunnel from this room that leads out to the southern woods. Not many know about it."

"Good. We'll drag him out there tonight, burn the body, and be back here in enough time for sunrise."

"Then what?"

"How often does he call on each of his wives?"

Her eyes narrowed at me as she caught on to the logistics of my plan. A smile crept across her face- one that belied both hope and fear.

"It depends on how well the war is going. If it goes well, he'll pick one per night. If it goes badly, the same, but he will beat us then."

"How many are there?"

"Wives or wars?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation.

"Both."

"Seven wives, including myself. One younger, five older. He has...had... two major, ongoing wars. The first is local; he wants to gain more trading waters to tax. It is a minor skirmish at best...," Kathryn said, her voice trailing off.

"And the second?" I asked, raising her chin with my finger. Her smile had faded, and a fearful look returned.

"The second is in your...our homeland. He is siding with the king to take over more territory."

"What?" I said, shocked that she was suddenly speaking in my native tongue.

"The crest you wear around your neck is the same that was given to Crycus when he joined with the king. It was given to him along with me as a symbol of his good faith."

I couldn't form logical though. It had never even occurred to me that my own countrymen could be behind something like this. "What?" I asked, unsure of if I had heard her correctly.

She shook her head. "I don't know all the details, but I do know that he, your king that is, suggested that something might be done to distract you...he said that you wouldn't take the merge of power very well."

My hand went to my necklace involuntarily. I touched the icy gold band around my neck, allowing my grief to only temporarily shine through. Kathryn's eyes followed the movement.

"You lost more than just a wife."

I nodded slowly again. "My newborn son, my daughter, my wife, and everyone in my village..."

She sighed in a tone that told of mutual pain. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said, touching my shoulder. The action seemed somehow familiar. I laughed out loud. It was a sick, hollow cackle more than anything else. The sound of it made her jump.

"You sound like my squire."

She offered the ghost of a smile. "What is your real name, Proteus?"

I gazed at her and whispered a name I hadn't given in what seemed a lifetime. "Tom Paris, but you can call me Crycus."

Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis
III [Three]

True to our plan, Kathryn helped me wrap the body of Crycus, carry it through the subterranean tunnel, build a pyre, and give him the funeral he didn't permit my whole village. In a perfect world, his death would have been slow and painful. His body left to the animals to eat from. Discovery of his body by the wrong people though...that would ruin my plan.

Kathryn, my pseudo-wife, stood beside me. Her arms crossed. Her eyes locked on the jumping orange flames. There was a definite slump to her shoulders, but a peace to her face that I hadn't noticed before. I turned towards her and closed the distance between us.

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried that she was backing out of the plan.

"This is the moment I've dreamt of for as long as I can remember, but I'm not sure what to make of it. Crycus could be a cruel man- he forced himself on me more times than I can count, he would beat me, but he always saw to it that I had food, clothes, an education. In some way, I was grateful to him for taking me out of my old home. At least here I had the opportunity to see things I never even knew existed.

"And once this charade is over we'll either be dead, hunted, or heroes. Either way I won't have a place to return home to," she said, glancing sideways at me.

"I may not, but you do."

"I went willingly just to get out of that small town. If I'd have known it would have been like this..."

"No one said you had to return to your village. Home is where you make it. Travel the world, see the sites you've been told about." She nodded, eyes affixed on the dying flames. Enough of his corpse had burned that no identity remained.

"We'd better get back and get you changed," she said, eyeing the rising sun in the distance. I nodded in agreement and followed her back through the labyrinth of caves. Once inside, she showed me to Crycus' wardrobe.

"What are we going to do about the guard you killed?" she asked, standing beside me, watching me dress. The latter had not gone unnoticed.

"As soon as I'm finished dressing, I'll open the door to my room, and tell the guards that a man broke into your room last night and tried to attack you. You were the one that killed him. I'll say that I was too interested in you to worry about trivial things like a dead body in my castle."

She laughed. "That actually sounds like something he would say."

I turned towards her and smiled. "Is it unusual for a wife to accompany him during the day? You are the only person that I trust here, and I am afraid I am at a disadvantage because I haven't a clue who any of these people are."

"No. It's not. Typically, it is his first wife that does, or the one that has gained his favor most recently."

I finished tying the last sash across my face to hide my appearance and turned towards her. "How do I look?"

"Like the bastard that I'm married to," she said with no sense of humor in her voice. I nodded and slipped Crycus' saber through my belt.

"Let the games begin," I said, walking towards the door, and offering her my arm. "Come my dear, breakfast awaits."
IV [Four]

I had no way of knowing it then, but those brief hours set into motion a plot that would ultimately consume and drastically alter my life. I was already a deserter to the 'great' king that ordered the death of my family, and, in my leave, had put a bounty on my head- dead or alive. Of course, Thomas Paris ceased to be years before. He would never...could never be the assassin I had become. Paris turned Proteus turned Crycus. Like the good actor I was, I shrugged on a new outfit, a new persona, and become the man I'd grow to hate.

Unlocking the door and swinging it open, I was greeted by my entourage- two guards and an odd looking little man dress in reds and gold.

"His name is Arkin," Kathryn whispered into my ear. "He is a personal assistant of sorts. He keeps track of all your appointments, contacts, and business affairs."

I let out a deep feral growl as if she had suggested something inappropriate which branched into resolution of an earlier problem. "Kathryn has told me that someone broke into her room last night and attacked her. She had to dispatch of him herself. Why wasn't there any guards present to stop him?"

I watched all three men stiffen at the remark. It was Arkin that finally spoke. "I wasn't aware...I mean is your property damaged, sir?" he asked, looking towards Kathryn and then me expectantly.

"This property's name is Kathryn. You would do well to remember that. It was she that dealt with the man and, in doing so, has gained my favor. I do, however, suggest you deal with the body left in her room before the stench escapes down the hall."

"Yes. Right away, sir."

I nodded and brushed past them as if they were insignificant. The movement was one my former king had used on me more times that I could count. By Kathryn's bemused smile, I was fairly certain it was an appropriate action.

She guided me past several large tapestries, past her bedroom, finally turning and descending a massive staircase. "The dining room is ahead on the left. Your military advisor, Tuvok, is usually waiting to brief you on the status of your wars. Trust him; he has shown nothing but loyalty to Crycus."

A servant pushed open the massive, ironwork door as I approached, bowing deeply until I passed him. The first thing that struck me about the room was the expansiveness of it. Leave it to a megalomaniac to have a dining room fit for a king.

A large, mahogany table filled most of the expanse of the room. Thirty chairs lined the perimeter but could easily be pushed together to accommodate more. At the head of the table was what I could presume was his chair. Painted in gold with deep, red velvet cushions it looked more like a throne than a dining room chair. It was almost laughable.

Near the aforementioned chair was a fireplace that took up most of the left wall. A fire raged within warding off the bitter cold that night left in its wake. Above, on the mantle, was a large portrait of Crycus. He was dressed in a fine, white wrap that had gold accents. His hand was resting on the hilt of his saber, an eyebrow quirked. The majority of his face was hidden behind a wrap.

Kathryn pulled me gently towards the effeminate red throne. I took my place at the head of the table noting that not one but five men were gathered around it all of which looked as though they recognized me. Not good. Offering Kathryn a seductive smile, I pulled her into my lap and kissed her soundly. She pulled back, nuzzling my neck and whispering into my ear.

"Tuvok is the man on your left. Sitting behind him is his lieutenant. They call him Neelix."

I growled appreciatively. Just putting on a show, I reminded myself. Those gathered acted as if it was commonplace, but looked anywhere but at us.

I gazed at the first two men she had pointed out. Tuvok was a Moor. Resilient, nomadic, and a tough match in battle, they were one of the few colored groups from Africa that had not been taken as slaves. Crycus was wise to choose Tuvok. His reputation preceded him. Neelix, on the other hand, was not as strong of military mind. He was a valiant fighter according to all the bards I had run into over the years, but he was of a weak stomach when it came to killing in cold blood.Tuvok though...there was an evil streak within him that was just lying in wait beneath the surface.

Kathryn's arms snaked around my neck. Conscious thought was becoming difficult. She was peppering kisses along my neck and murmuring her explanations.

"You know Arkin from earlier," she said as my eyes followed hers to the other side of the table. " Kes is at his side. She's your favorite assassin. Beside her is the local law. He comes every seven sunrises to collect his pay for looking the other way. His name is Chakotay," she said, voice dipping low, colored with hate.

I cocked my head towards her on instinct. "I'm sure there's a story there, pet."

"Several. Before this is over," she said, gliding her hand down my chest, drawing circles on it through the silk. "I'm taking him out."

I chuckled, understanding her bloodlust. I found it and her temper appealing. Then again Lanna had been like that too; tough exterior, but she could be so tender too... Shaking my head to clear unbidden memories, I turned my attention to the opposite side of the table. Chakotay was a few shades lighter than Tuvok and his lieutenant. His olive coloring and black hair suggested he was from an Arabian heritage. The tattoo about his right temple was, no doubt, a marking of his people. I was unfamiliar with it though. He was of heavy build with more girth on his belly than his arms. Broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a visible scar on his left arm that ran down the length of it. His hands were worn and his posture suggested that he was a soldier at one time- back straight, ears tuned to the air around him, hand on the hilt of his sword. His glory days were gone, but he might still pose a threat.

Kes was surprising. She was legendary among the traveling bards as the 'Black Mistress.' Tales of her outwardly flirtatious behavior allowing her access to the most battle-hardened men were told in nearly every tavern in Britain, Japa, and Chin. She'd seduced more men into the quiet confines of their bedroom, killed them, and slipped out before sunrise than even she could count.

None of the accounts ever included a physical description- guards seldom took notice of their master's latest concubine. Here she was though, sitting inches from me. No wonder she had won so many men�s 'hearts.' Blonde hair, blue eyes, elfin features, a petite body, and a warm smile. Who would expect someone so small could kill a man within seconds?

Arkin cleared his throat loudly, drawing my attention back to him. "Master Crycus, I really do hate to interrupt you, sir, but if you wish to stay on schedule..."

I laughed heartily at him. "Arkin, you are too uptight, friend, but, I suppose being rid of you will give me more time to play," I said, looking pointedly at the woman curled in my lap.

"How go the battles, Tuvok?"

"Quite well. The king will, however, be expecting you soon to solidify your plans. It is my belief that seeing you in person will put him at ease."

"I'm sensing a but coming, Tuvok," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"King Solomon wishes to test your skills in combat. He believes that any man worthy to lead his armies on to victory can survive his challenge."

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing aloud. The 'challenge' was, no doubt, the very obstacle course his men trained on. Any novice page could trudge through the course unscathed. Of course, the king, himself, believed it to be of great difficulty. "And I should fear this...'challenge'?"

"Your fighting form has not been in top shape since the skirmish in Zanzibar I worry that your sword arm has not yet recovered..."

I released my grip on Kathryn and motioned for her to glide off of my lap. She did so, favoring me with an intrigued expression. My left hand found its way to the hilt of my saber tucked carefully in my belt.

"Care to test your theory, old man?"

My heartbeat quickened at the idea of facing off with a worthy opponent. Through my travels, I had picked up a few moves that His Majesty would never sanction, but were of great use in the field. My breathing deepened, preparing for battle. I could feel the adrenaline surge in my body.

"Very well," he said, standing. His voice so neutral it threw me off guard, but his eyes...his eyes told another story. He was excited as I was.

I drew the blade carefully taking a defensive stance. Smiling broadly, he pulled a well used scimitar from his scabbard. I decided a surprise move might catch his attention, jumping effortlessly atop the expensive table, bring the blade down on his shoulder and leaving a nasty nick.

"Fancy move for a novice," he growled, joining me on the wooden playing field. I smiled but had no time for a pithy comeback as he retaliated with a sift swing towards my forearm. I turned my blade quickly, deflecting the blow. He tried three more attempts in rapid synchronization. Spinning quickly, using momentum to increase the devastation of his blow, he turned his blade against my abdomen while trying to kick my legs out from under me. I jumped straight in the air to avoid his kick and lowered my sword to ward off his. Then brought it up and around in a circle, disarming him. The metal of his sword clamored loudly to the stone floor. I used his momentary shock to my advantage, delivering a roundhouse kick to his stomach, sending him flying backwards off the table. The wind knocked out of him, I had the precious seconds needed to kneel beside him, jab my knee into his gut, and lower the dagger I kept concealed up my sleeve to his throat.

The entire fight had taken no more than a few moments. I had disarmed him, defeated him, and broken his lucky streak. Fear shone brightly beneath his eyes as the cold steel kissed the vein hammering away just under his dark flesh.

I swore that if I closed my eyes tight enough I can force myself to forget the image imposed over Tuvok's- the face of the first man I killed in cold blood. I was just a boy then- no more than ten or eleven summers, and it was my first joust. My lord had insisted that Ethan and I make a run of it and try out the skills we had worked so hard to perfect in a combat situation.

Ethan came towards me, full charge, lance down. I did the same, but, for some inexplicable reason, his shield failed- snapped in two. The tip of my lance cut through it like a knife through butter and continued on to run him through. My steed stopped as quickly as I pulled the reigns, but it was too late. Ethan resembled the hogs we used to turn on the spit in my village. Eyes wide in terror, mouth gaping like a fish's. There was so much blood.

I stepped back and away from the puddle that was cast unto the hay-covered ground. Sinking to my knees, eyes locked on what I had done, I lost my breakfast to the ground, retching until there was no more and continuing all the same. My lord placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me away.

"It wasn't your fault," he said, simply. "It was an accident. You just hit a weak spot in his shield. It could have happened to any one of us."

He sat me down on the stump beside the servant's well and began cleaning the blood off of my hands. He told me of the first kill he'd made- a peasant spy who had pulled a dagger to his throat.

"You don't understand," I told him, "I had a choice. You didn't."

Little moments that add up. I sat in the shade of the castle on that stump, listening to my lord, watching the older servants load Ethan's body onto the manure truck and pull it towards the outskirts of town. We sent him off in the old traditions, calling on Celesta to see him over.

That fear, anger, and disbelief that Ethan held in his eyes though...it is the same look that Tuvok and every other man before him that I was about to strike held. It used to haunt me until I learned to accept it and draw power from it. The ancient texts of Ares and Athena say that the true warrior shall look upon evil and the darkness shall have his soul for then and only then will he be free of conscious and fear. I have no doubt now that I will spend eternity in Hades suffering eternal torment, but I have every intention of seeing my enemies out with me.

"Never question my abilities again," I murmured, backing off, fighting the demon that raged inside me that whispered 'kill him...kill him...'

I returned to my seat. My heart still thundering in my chest, my breathing still labored. Neither was from the small amount of exertion. It was bloodlust and, as much as I am ashamed to admit, that violence to this day takes me over when I fight.

Sinking slowly into my throne, I turn my head towards Kathryn. Her eyes told me enough; my dark side scared the hell out of her. I shrugged and grabbed the wooden goblet of wine, taking a deep drink, willing my hands to stop shaking. Again, not of fear but of raw need. Murder to an assassin was like alcohol to an addict; you crave it, and, when you are left unsatisfied, your body rebels.

"Impressive work, Crycus," Kes purred in a sweet, alto voice. "Never figured you the type...all talk and that."

I shrugged. "You don't make it as far as I have and live if you can't fight," I said, standing. In my peripheral view, I saw Kathryn slip out of the room. Without her backup, I wasn't willing to stay in the room and continue the charade. "If you'll excuse me..."

I stood and walked three paces before Arkin stepped towards me, blocking my path. I growled in response, clenching and relaxing my hands. "Sir, I know how you do enjoy a good battle, but there are still a few more matters that need to be discussed this morning."

"Such as?" I said, evenly.

"Well ... there is the matter of local security, and Kes' future assignments.

I turned towards the motley group surrounding my table and offered them a weak smile. "Mr. Tuvok, Neelix, I would like you to leak to your soldiers that I'm not particularly happy with His Majesty's demands that I prove my fighting skills. From what I understand, the ol' boy has never been able to complete the course himself," I said, pausing.

"If he wants to fight me, he can challenge me or have me face his best man. Either way, it is of little concern to me," I finished, turning my gaze to Chakotay. "The security of this city-state is appalling. You will not receive any further payment until your men have been properly trained. If need be, have Neelix assist you."

Finally, I turned my attention to Kes. She smirked at me, eyes filled with merriment and approval. "It's 'bout time you cleaned house, Crycus," she said, laughing. "I was starting to think all those wives were making you soft."

The double entendre was not lost on me. I smiled at her slyly and moved to stand behind her. I had to know if she and Crycus had been more than just business and sparring partners. Resting my hands on her shoulders, I felt the muscles beneath ripple and shake with anticipation of my next more. In that moment, I read her more clearly than I had the entire time I'd observed her from across the room. Bending down, allowing lips to press butterfly kisses along her shoulder and the nape of her neck, I whispered all the delicious things that I wanted to do with her to or with her watching into her ear. Her breathing became ragged, and her pulse picked up exponentially. I smiled against her skin, knowing that I had won her over.

"Leave us," I barked at the men in the room. Last thing I needed was for them to overhear. Chakotay, Neelix, and Arkin walked quickly from the room without a word. Tuvok raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"I have a special assignment for you," I said, returning the assault on her neck. "Not the usual kind at all."

"Mmmm...what's in it for me?" Her voice had taken on a husky quality I was finding hard to resist.

"I think you already know that one,� my hands slid lower on her frame, brushing against her breast, eliciting a low moan. She stilled and turned to look at me. Her eyes were filled with mirth. "Is it dangerous?"

"The deadliest type. Chances are it would be an ugly, quick death if you were caught."

She pouted her lips. "What? No foreplay?" I laughed at her forwardness. So few woman were as open about their sexuality since the introduction of the one god.

"You can play with me when you get back, pet. Until then I'll need you focused on this. You're one of the few people I have that's worth the skin the Goddess gave you."

She smiled at me. "Careful who you say that around. That King of yours wouldn't be thrilled to know he's in bed with a pagan."

"I prefer my bedmates to be a little more curvy," I brushed my hand against her again to make my point. "And as for being a pagan, well, that makes for a more interesting night. The Goddess never looked down on a little magick use. I hear you're a regular witch, yourself."

"Witch, Wiccan, succubus. I've been called quite a few names in my day. Is it my fault I know how to control the elements so well?"

"You might need that were I'm sending you," I said, a serious expression crossing my features. She straightened in her seat, all sexual play forgotten.

"Must be serious for the boss to be scared for my safety."

"King Solomon isn't exactly living up to his name. You recalled hearing of a man named Proteus?" I asked, watching her closely to see if she recognized the name. Her features fell a bit.

"Course I have. Ran into a few traveling bards that tell stories of his killing sprees. Did you know he killed Prince Tibirious in the middle of a parade to celebrate his victory of the Nords? Shot him from the palace balcony straight through the eye. Thousands of troops lined up behind the prince and not a one of them was able to find him. I wish I had been there seen the chaos. Can you imagine?"

It was the most I'd heard her say, and, in that small timeframe, I found myself amused. Was that hero worship I heard in her voice? I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud, and continued on. "Seems that the king sent Proteus to kill me last night."

Kes' spine straightened against the back of her chair. "Obviously he didn't succeed. What happened to him? Is he in the dungeon? I'd love to go play with the puppy,� she said, eyes lighting up.

"'Fraid not. Seems that Kathryn managed to kill him when he broke into her room last night."

"Kathryn?" Kes laughed, deep and long. "You mean that little git that was hanging all over you a minute ago?" I nodded my head slowly. "Must have underestimated her."

I laughed heartily. "You have no idea."

�So let me guess. Your little assignment is for me to go to the king and find out who his trusted men are and who are those you could turn to your side of thinking.�

"Deadly, playful, and brilliant. Just how I like my girls," I said in a low voice.

She laughed and cocked her head to the side. "I'm not one of your girls, Crycus. Never will be. You want to play when I get back and I'm game, but I'll never be some simpering wife."

"Fair enough," I said, rewarding her with a smile. "Just be careful, Kes."

She nodded and slipped out of the room as quietly as the others did. I took a moment and slipped into her seat. Playing all these mind games in such a short spans of time was exhausting. I used the palm of my hand to work the tight muscles as the base of my neck. I always seem to carry all my tension there.

With all of the morning's crisis handled, I still have two loose ends to tie up- Proteus' ride and patching things up with Kathryn.

V [Five]

After using the secret passage to sneak out side of the walled city, I changed into commoner garb, and recovered my camel where I had left her. Grateful that both she and my belongings were intact, I lead her through the front gate without much hassle. I made my way to the rather large stable I’d spotted the night before, and handed the owner a large sack of dinars, requesting that he take care of my ride until further notice.

Taking my small bundle of possessions with me, I waited near the gate until midday when the largest number of sellers left the city en route for the next large village. Surrounded by traders, I slipped past the slow minded sentry and made my way to the tunnel once again.

I left my pack in the tunnel hidden behind a small pile of crates that lined the path, and changed for the fourth time that day. From my room, I wandered the castle looking for Kathryn, feeling as though I owed her an explanation at the very least. We were both risking out lives. Her more so than I. It was simple for a man to escape and recreate himself. Woman, on the other hand, were still considered property in most countries. Those that didn't know how to fight were also taken advantage of more often than not.

As I meandered through the hallways, I was overcome with a better sense of the type of person Crycus was. Aside from being egocentric and vain, he seemed to be an accomplished fighter. I also suspected he beat not only his wives but anyone that worked beneath him that failed him in some way. Not a single worker I past would make eye contact. Most would cast their gaze at the icy stone floor.

One of them many workers I came across was an elderly woman scrubbing floors. I stopped and regarded her for a long moment. ‘The eyes of those that are not acknowledged or noticed tend to see the most’ my tutor had told me once. My presence had not gone unnoticed. In fact, she had altered her scrubbing pattern so that none of the soap suds or grime would fly towards me. I also noticed that her hands were shaking at my proximity. No doubt that pounce Crycus had raised his fist against her before.

I leaned down beside her and touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned towards me, eyes downward. "Have you seen Kathryn, Mother?" I asked her softly.

"I believe I saw her running towards the garden, Lord Crycus."

I nodded, standing. "Thank you," I said, turning. In my peripheral view, I caught a glimpse of her chancing a look at me. I turned to look at her once again. Again, she cast her eyes down.

"Why is such a woman of your advanced years scrubbing the castle floors? Surely there are younger woman to do this task."

"You assigned me to this ten winters ago after you burned your tongue on the stew I had made.”

I felt my heart sink. Could a man be so cruel? The woman was old enough to be my great-grandmother, and Crycus was so petty he had her scrubbing floors?

“Stand, pet. Go to the kitchen and help the young things out. There are plenty of idiots in here that are supposed to be protecting me whose time would be better spent doing this.”

She rose from the floor, giving me an incredulous look. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, Sir, Kathryn seems to have bewitched you,” she said, grabbing the pail and leaving quickly. I smiled to myself and continued my long walk down the hallway.

§¤☼¤§

I found Kathryn in the garden several moments later. She was staring blankly at the climbing rose vine. I sat beside her without saying a word. She didn't turn to acknowledge my presence.

"That look in your eyes...," she said without tearing her line of sight from the back wall. "I'd seen it before in his when he was beating me."

"There's a monster inside everyone. Just takes a catalyst to bring him out," I said, slipping my hand into hers. She flinched and pulled away as if it had burned.

"I've heard tales about you..."

"Oh?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"At the local tavern. There was a blonde girl. Had short hair and this tiny red outfit. She mentioned your story- an assassin that teamed up with her to stop a slave trading ring. Painted you as a fight the good fight kind of man."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've lived both lives- white and black hat. Didn't care for either. Got burned doing both. Course the pay was better for the second, but having a price on your scalp..."

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, turning her big gray eyes on me. I felt dirty under her gaze.

"Which part do you want to know?"

"Either. Both. Doesn't matter. I just want to understand you. How you came to be so..." her voice trailed off.

"Evil? Cold? Cruel? Long, unpleasant story, love. Not sure the likes of you would enjoy it."

"Try me," she said, staring directly into my eyes, challenging me.

I paused, letting myself slip out of the character of Crycus, and become nothing more than a narrator. "Right then. It started about five summers ago. I returned home to find my family and village slaughtered by Crycus' men. I knew he was a tough man to beat in a fair fight. I also knew that he kept his grounds fairly well protected...or so the story said. From my homeland, I traveled east, trying to hone my skills, create a new identity for myself, and let the rumors of my death calm down so that it went from myth to fact."

"You staged your own death?" she said, incredulously.

"Yeah. Killed by Proteus."

She smiled at me. "You killed yourself?" she clarified.

"Yeah," I said, chuckling at the idea of it all. She could cram complex issues into simple statements.

"Sold all my family's heirlooms on the black market. Was enough to live off of for years, and it just solidified my cover story.

"I traveled from place to place, uncovering Crycus' supporters and took them out. Take out his generals and his soldiers haven't a clue what to do. Was paid fairly well from my troubles by the locals and picked up a lot of good fighting tactics."

"And bad habits," she said, patting the flask in my pocket.

I lowered my eyes quickly, suddenly ashamed. "Yeah. Tried real hard to do myself in I guess. Spent my free nights drinking and whoring around town. None of them were ever her though. Not a one of 'em. Every single last one I took to bed had some trait of hers- dark hair, eyes, similar build, voice...but none of 'em were her."

I noted how my voice automatically dipped back into my regional dialect when I'd drank too much or was too upset to care. Lanna had always brought that out in me...Kathryn did too.

"So that's it then. You killed Crycus. Why stick around?"

"King Solomon would just claim Crycus' army and march them against whatever group he has targeted. My guess is Chin or Japa; he always did have a thing for trying to convert the heathens. It would throw the balance of power all off. Besides, those two countries have more people per capita than all of this area."

"What happens after you bring down this king of yours?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Figured I'd live out my life as some new persona..."

"As a killer?"

"I prefer the term assassin, and why not? I'm good at it. Pay's good."

"But it's not you. Not who you are."

"Not who I used to be," I corrected.

"So someone kills your family and you decide to turn into the same type of animal that did it? I saw the look in your eyes in there. You wanted him to make a move- to give you a reason to kill him. I saw it. He saw. We all did."

"A woman in Kurdistan told me once that the look I had in my eyes when the bloodlust came upon me reminded her of a Romanian count she knew. She even suggested that I was formed from the Furies' blood. Had unsettling blue eyes that I thought could see right through to my soul. Called herself Duessa. Scary thing she was. Nomadic... a gypsy of sorts. She's the one that gave me the idea to start this journey. Said it would cleanse my soul.

"Spent a good two months with her learning survival skills like how to find water and food in a desert, how to hide my identity with only a handful of supplies, and a few fighting techniques. Through her, I got my first assignment."

"And what was that? Killing, maiming, or both?"

I chuckled at her obvious disapproval. "First man I killed for pay was a warlord who was terrorizing a local village. He had an affinity for stealing all their crops and selling them in nearby towns.

"Every year he would show up like clockwork, and every year he would threaten to kill the village woman if they didn't deliver. So, he came on the last full moon of the spring, but I was waiting for him.

"The villagers fired at his army with slingshots sending them into the woods like scared children. I'd set up tiger traps at a few spots, hunting snares and that. After they were all taken care of, I rode into his camp. He'd left little protection for himself. Took most of them out with arrows from a good distance. Then came the showdown. Fought the ugly bugger in a sword fight. Got a nasty scar, a bag of dinars, and a full meal for my troubles.”

“And the tattoo on your back?” she asked, blushing a deep crimson as she asked.

“That was a gift,” I said, lowering my head. “It’s a protection charm of sorts...”

”Why do I sense there is more to this story that you aren’t telling me?” she asked after a lengthy pause.

I let out a sigh, and reached into my coat pocket, drawing out the silver flask. It was an automatic response to pain. I caught her disapproving look, grateful she said nothing. After a large swallow, I finally answered her question. “Not all the past is easy to discuss, pet, especially when I haven’t had to recall the events in years.” I saw it then- the pity that always comes. I hate this part of revealing conversations.

“I came across an old man in Japa whose grand daughter had been kidnapped and sold into the black market. He agreed to teach me what he knew about his countryman’s fighting methods if I could return her. I did as he asked. Brought her back, even killed the guy that did it. Yuling was a real treasure. Of course, I had to fall in love with her to complicate matters.

“She spent a good week and a half with her grand father. Helped him teach me how to fight and all that. She’s the first one that cared enough about me to actually listen to the whole sordid story of how I came to do what I was doing,” I said, standing. “By the end of the week, I had grown listless of being in the same spot. The snow was falling hard that winter, and I could feel all the years of wear and tear in my bones.

“I was all packed to go when Yuling stopped me. She was dressed in all white, and was holding her favorite blade. She had this puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. I remember pulling her into my arms and hugging her goodbye. Then, I remembered the sword. I asked her what she was doing with it, and she told me she was restoring her family’s honor,” I paused, noticing that, for the first time in years, I was crying.

”What happened?” Kathryn asked softly.

“I was a good three-four hundred footfalls from her house when I heard her grandfather scream. I dropped my things and ran as fast as I could towards their home. My feet kept sinking into the snow, slowing me down. When I got there…” I had to stop and clear my throat. The emotion overcame me.

“When I got there, Yuling was face down in the snow. Her kimono was stained red and this dark black pool surrounded her,” I swallowed hard, recalling the event. “I remember thinking how I should pick her up, carry her inside…that she must be so cold laying in that snow.”

I felt a warm hand touch my face, willing me back to the present with her. “I loved her,” I said, looking deep into Kathryn’s. She was the second woman I lost. This time, by her own hand.”

“Oh Tom, I had no idea…” she said, softly.

I straightened in my seat and pulled away from her, offering the ghost of a smile. “I’ll make you a deal; you don’t mention my past, and I won’t mention yours.”

“Deal,” she said without hesitation.

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