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.
