Story #168 - A Name By Any

A Name By Any

Rose had only ever seen the flower that was her namesake once.

It was just before her selection by the Runners, an unexpected honor in the Eastern Realms, and one both her parents and older brother had done their best to shield her from. A group of the black-clad assassins had been seen heading for the town, which meant that they wanted to be seen, and that they had a purpose.

The Runners would never announce such a purpose before they arrived, but the very fact that they had been reported – and days in advance – spoke volumes about the potential for a recruiting drive. Nervous laughter floated around the town from family to family, each one hoping that their children would be spared the honor of being chosen.

All knew that they life of an Elder’s hired assassin was one in which a child would want for nothing, and all knew that any child taken was transformed into something wholly unlike themselves; a ruthless killing machine that knew nothing of its former self. Fear thrummed in the town, even if no one would speak of it. The Runners were coming, and they could not be stopped.

Every child was required to be in attendance, even those far too young to be taken for training. Rose’s parents had carefully placed her brother at the edge of the street, blocking her swinging form from view. Her knowledge of the Runners was limited; she had seen the muscled assassins only once, and only at a distance as they relieved the former leader of the town of his position and his head for a presumed slight against an Elder. To her, the Runners were nothing more than strange playmates, larger beings that, like her, loved to swing and climb whenever possible.

“Rose,” her mother called softly, “get down from there.”

She made an indelicate sound, which caused her father to turn quickly. Tall and sandy-haired, her father was a man who brooked no nonsense, even from his youngest daughter, at least when they were in public. At home, she could wriggle out of any trouble or whine away until she got what she wanted, but in the company of other she was made to tow the line.

“Fine.” She put as much sulk into her voice as she could before she dropped from the low-hanging branch, but both of her parents had turned their attention back to the route the Runners were likely to take. Despite her tone, she wasn’t too put out, as she’d caught sight of a blushing crimson flower that she’d never seen before. The last three growing seasons had been dry and short, and though she could do little but keep the others company, she’d been pressed into service on the farm.

“Mama,” she said, reaching for the flower, “what is this?”

Her mother looked quickly back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and her voice hard. “Rose. It’s a rose. Leave it alone.”

Rose. She liked the name, and she’d never seen a flower quite like it. Reaching out a hand, brushed a fingertip against the dark red petals and was surprised at how silky smooth they felt, even softer than her hair after a good brushing. She slid her hand down the stem, and cried out as a sharp thorn bit deeply into her fingertip.

Pulling upward sharply, she tore the flower from its bush and hurled it into the trees, but was stunned to see a hand lash out and catch it before it hit the ground. Scampering up the tree beside her, she was ten feet off the ground when a short man dressed all in black burst out of the tree line behind her parents.

“Citizens,” he said in a gravelly voice, “where did she go?”

As a group her brother, mother and father jumped forward, then turned quickly, eyes going wide as they saw the Runner in front of them.

“She?” Her father asked nervously. “Who do you seek, Runner?”

“The little one – the girl. I saw her, swinging from the trees, and saw her with the flower. Where is she?”

“Runner, I –“ her father’s voice cut off as the short man moved faster than she had thought possible, his palms striking her father in the chest twice in rapid succession. Gasping, he fell to the ground, his hands clutching at the air in front of him.

“Tell me, fool,” the Runner grated, “or you can count the remainder of your life in seconds.”

“No, I…” her father trailed off, his voice weakening as he struggled. Her mother had begun to scream, and her brother was frozen with fear, arms held rigidly at his sides.

“Tell me,” the Runner hissed, “and I will let you live. She is not worth your death.”

The smaller man was right; her father still had many years ahead of him if he was allowed to live them out in peace. She couldn’t let him die because of her.

“Up here!” She called out, and then swung down to a lower branch. The Runner made a grab for her, but she slipped out of the way, easily avoiding even his fast fingers. There was a surprise in his eyes, a shock that didn’t show in his movements.

“You,” he said, pointing at her, “will come with us.”

She nodded. If it meant that the slinking, dark-clothed man would leave her family alone, she would go. Glancing down at her father, she could see him struggling to sit up, both arms wrapped protectively around his chest as her mother helped him to move. Fear painted the faces of each member of her family, but that same fear held their tongues. She could keep them safe; she could let them live.

“What is your name, youngling?” The Runner asked as she dropped to the ground several feet out of his reach. He eyed her warily, but did not make an attempt to grab her again.

“Rose,” she said, thinking of the beautiful flower with the terrible thorns, “my name is Rose.”


- D