RASEGO

The blade gleams, like moonlight on water, as Rasego moves through the forms. 

She does not have to think about the forms, tey are imprinted on her muscles, her nerves. Sometimes, she wonders if the movements have etched themselves onto her very soul, but she does not linger on such thoughts. Thinking of souls, of the afterlife, leads to thinking about the future, and the now is most important.

Live in the moment, Master Anilor told her, because you may not have another.

Wise words, but not an excuse to live an intemperate life. So many other of Master Anilor's students misunderstood and took paths of decadent pleasure that led to ruin.

Not her.

Rasego understood what the master had truly meant.

The past is gone. Untouchable.

The future is unknown.

The now is everything.

Behind her, a twig snaps. Rasego drops and spins, extending her blade.Its edge rips through leather and flesh. A spray of blood paints the grass. The stink of ruptured bowls foul the air.

The man falls, dead before he hits the grass.

Some part of Rasego's mind takes note of his black leather armor, even as the greater part notes the other assassins moving forward.

Two of them. Men. Experienced fighters. Dressed all in black.  One spins a golden chain with a weighted barb on its end. The other wields twin blades. Neither makes a sound.

Gold Chain attacks, unleashing his weapon from a distance, perhaps hoping to ensnare her sword. Twin Blades moves at the same time, darting forward, striking quick.

She can appreciate their tactics, although she thinks that neither has very good form.

Rasego steps forward and slips under the golden chair, moves through the form known as Stalking Cat, before slipping into Tall Mountain to block the two blades.

The men fight as a team, as a coordinated unit.  Fighting them is almost like fighting one creature with two bodies.

She slips from Tall Mountain to Crawling Serpent to Leaves On The Wind.

Her blade cleaves Twin Blades's head from his shoulders. It rolls across the manicured lawn, as the remainder of the body falls over, twitching.

Gold Chain's body language changes. Fear makes him twitch and whirl his weapon through a complex series of movements. He takes a step back, and Rasego knows she has already won.

She slips into Tall Mountain, and regards her opponent.

"Leave," she says.

He flicks his wrist and the golden chain coils about his arm.

"They said you were old and weak," says the assassin.

Rasego smiles. "They were wrong."

The man inclines his head, then steps back and seems to melt into the night's shadows.

Rasego maintains Tall Mountain for a few breaths, until she is sure he is gone, then lowers her blade.

The moonlit lawn is wet with blood. The dead men lie where they fell, fouling the air. Her muscles ache with exertion.   She cleans her blade and walks toward the house.

This is her life.

This is the now.