Assassin's Breed
Six of them moved in to surround me, but I was prepared.
Scratch that – I was terrified.
It was an odd thing. I had spent years training for moments just like this, but I hadn’t ever managed to control the reactions I experienced when faced with violence, aggression, or interest from someone of the opposite sex.
“Panic” wasn’t exactly accurate, but – well, terror came closer.
My sensei had always been displeased with me, but couldn’t deny my talent. Being his son also helped (or hindered) matters, and my skills had improved daily. He’d done everything he could to breed fear and passion out of me and reduce me down to a single nugget of physical arts goodness, but I’d always been resistant to such nuggeting.
A snap-kick from the short man to my right pulled my attention back where it should have been in the first place, and I reacted instinctively, throwing up my hands, catching the foot as it came and twisting the small man to the ground. Of course, I also screamed like an opera singer, something that stunned the five men still standing.
This was the problem, in a nutshell. Bodi Dagoda, my father, was not only the most respected assassin in the Four Kingdoms, but also possessed a level of stealth and finesse that was unmatched by anyone living or dead. It was said ghosts themselves avoided my father, fearing he could cut them into another unlife.
I had shown great promise as a child, and was nearly as stoic as my father. A memory I couldn’t recall and no one would speak of had changed my outlook, and suddenly vocal reactions were my desperate answer to any stress. I assumed it had to do with being left somewhere or abandoned; both were common techniques in the industry of assassination for teaching self-reliance and hardiness, but they appeared to have worked less well for me than for others.
The second and third of the men attacking me came on strong, and I dropped to the ground, letting their blows sail over my head and into each other. They went down in two heaps, and I rolled forward, sprinting into the flowered courtyard down the few steps in front of me. They’d come on so strong I’d forgotten to scream, but I knew that was more fluke than permanent effect, and while I had to admire my father’s persistence, it was clear that I was not going to be so easily cleared.
My Ascension was coming quickly, and the great Bodi was doing everything he could to ensure that his son was ready – and not a disgrace to the family name. A screaming assassin would do little good if he encountered a guard or citizen on the way to a kill and woke the entire neighborhood, and would cast a shadow across the entire Order.
The courtyard was still in bloom, and I caught a distinct whiff of Manchi blossoms. I had never cared for their smell, but they were my father’s favorite, and the grounds were covered in them.
Only three of the six remained, and swept after me as I ran. All would have orders to knock me unconscious if at all possible. Such would be a huge loss of honor for me, but a gain for them, and the fact that I was Bodi’s son would do nothing to deter them – in fact, they would work even harder to prove themselves.
The largest of the three bellowed a challenge and charged toward me, leaving his companions behind. A small blade slipped from his sleeve as he came, and I danced backward. Weapons were not permitted in the compound, but it was no surprise that the men hired to attack me had broken the rules. Though my father would be displeased with their choice, and a win would accrue less honor for my attacker, he would have no sympathy for my loss.
Fortunately, the charging man relied too much on his weapon to intimidate me, and a quick strike to the side of the head dropped him low. I grabbed the blade as he fell and tossed it over the wall of the courtyard – the peasants beyond the wall could sell the steel for gold.
I considered giving the last two the chance to run, but decided against it since they wouldn’t take the offer anyway. Instead, I bellowed in their direction, letting my weakness for once become strength, letting it flow over and through me as they came.
“Enough!” The word was sharp and loud, and the two in front of me dropped to their knees. I remained standing; it has been ten years since I prostrated myself in front of Bodi Dagoda, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“Leave,” he said, and the men sped away, heads bowed.
“A worthy attempt, father,” I said, moving to stand beside him. He was a tiny man, slender and fit for his years. Unassuming, he was the perfect assassin; no one suspected him until it was too late. “But you can see that they were no match for me.”
Bodi clasped his hands, and strode into the garden, speaking quietly and leaving me no choice but to follow.
“It is true, my son – you are my finest work, save for your single defect.” I flared up at that, but kept my mouth shut. “I have been patient. I have made every attempt to compensate for your lack, to resolve your issue.” He paused next to a Manchi blossom, and inhaled deeply. “It is apparent, however, that no resolution will be found.
He turned to look at me, and there was a distance in his eyes I had never seen. “You will be cast out. Wander the Caste Steppes or the Low Road, and never return to this place. Money will be provided, and I will see to it you are protected, but you will never be a member of the Order.” He paused. “I am sorry, my son.”
I turned without a word. This was not unexpected, and Bodi’s attitude was in keewith that of the Master Assassin he embodied. This would not be the last he would hear of me, nor would the Order.
They would known me, and fear the Screaming Assassin.
- D
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