Dagger

The entry hall to the building was dimly lit, the stone floor barely visible. Small beams of moonlight peaked through the curtains of the windows, illuminating specks of dust in the air. That same light danced across the exposed blade of the woman. Small and slender, it was an inconspicuous thing, no ornamentation. Simple, functional. Her brow was covered in small beads of sweat as she squared herself against her opponent, blade held low.

Her foe was a large man, his close-cropped hair was dark, his muscles finely toned from many years of swordplay. His blade was held in one hand, point aimed for the woman. They had found themselves at odds, her goal lay up the spiraling staircase, there the child slept.

Blades clashed and sparks flew, as the man stepped in with a powerful downward strike, his short sword cutting through the air. The woman interposed her smaller blade at the last second and shifted her weight to the left. Her block was unable to fully stop the blow, instead, redirecting it over where her right shoulder used to be. His sword swung harmlessly by, gouging into the wooden wall. She extracted her smaller blade from the block, pulling back quickly, then sent it flying in a thrust towards the man’s exposed neck. The urgency to reach the stairs was clear in her mind.

The man saw the incoming thrust, and instinctively rolled his shoulders to his left. Her blade scored a hit on his cheek as he spun out of the way, a thin line of blood forming across his face. His sword came up in a strong guard, weapon held with both hands centered on his hips. The point was aimed at the ceiling, and it bobbed in time with his heavy breathing. 

The blood began to pour down the small cut, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation. It took all of his mental discipline not to wipe at it, his eyes remained trained on the smaller figure. He instinctively kicked a rug out of the way, as he began to move in a slow circle. The room was large enough for the two to maneuver a small amount, and each was hoping to find some advantage over the other.

Before the urge to wipe the blood became too great, he roared and charged at the woman, sword held high. He sent his weapon rocketing down from his right shoulder, snapping down at her clavicle. As she raised her dagger to deflect, he levered back with his bottom hand, causing the weapon to suddenly stop its momentum. Her block only met air, and she tried to readjust. As his sword came flying back to his shoulder, he twisted his bottom hand up and across in a horizontal swing at her exposed gut.

The woman stepped to the side, trying to move out of the way, but the blade tore across the right side of her midsection, carving a sizable gash. She stumbled under the weight of the blow, clutching her side with her free hand as she moved backwards. She began to whip her dagger wildly in front of her, trying desperately to score a hit against the man. Her blade rang against steel as the man brought his blade up to knock her feeble strikes to the side.

Blood seeped through her fingers, flowing down her forearm to drip onto the rug laid on the stone floor. She knew that the wound could kill her in due time, if the man couldn’t finish the job now. That was the only thought she had time for as the man attacked again.

He had grabbed a small vase from a nearby dresser, flinging it through the air. The woman ducked under the missile, and as she came up, he had closed the distance. 

The woman hopped to the side in response as his short sword thrust for her face. She swung her dagger to block, as her other hand tried to slow the bleeding. She desperately deflected his strikes, collecting a few more superficial cuts as the blade battered her defenses.

As the flurry of blows rained down at her, she tried to step outside of her opponent’s reach. With each step she took, he matched her, always sending in a strike. The man paused his onslaught after a half a dozen strikes, again circling as he breathed from the heavy exertion.

As he stepped back, the man absentmindedly wiped at the cut on his face. The woman saw her opponent's arm come up, causing his blade to sit in front of him in an awkward angle. She did not hesitate as his guard opened up. With the last bit of energy in her, she released the wound on her side, and she charged. 

The man reacted well, bringing his blade in a wide arc to intercept the blade he saw in his periphery. However, from a small pouch on her belt, she flung a handful of sand at his face. He swatted at the sand in front of him, and she stabbed at the man’s femoral artery. 

Her blade cut open the thick artery on the leg, and the man stumbled back. Blood flowed quickly down his breeches, and he struggled to regain his balance. She stood as the blood dripped off the tip of her blade. The man looked at her in confusion and spoke for the first time, clutching the wound as he stumbled.

“Poison?”

His stumbling became worse, and he lost his balance completely. He knocked into the dresser that previously had held the vase, it toppled over with a loud thud. The man’s face was twisted in surprise as his body weight slumped down onto the ground, his blade clattering to the floor.

The woman flicked the remaining blood off of her weapon, and immediately clutched at her side. She winced from the pain but continued past the body. She had come here for the child, and she needed to move quickly. She could hear his muffled cries from up the stairs.

Her soft soled shoes padded up the staircase, making little noise. She cracked open the door of the first room, peering inside. A small study lay within, no motion. She moved away, lightly closing the door. From down the hall she could hear the boys voice clearer now. 

"Mom!? Dad? What's going on?" 

She continued on to the next room. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. She peered inside. The room was dark, and she cast a long shadow into the light spilling in from the doorway. The room was well furnished, small toys lay strewn about the floor. At the far end of the room, a small figure stirred in bed. The ruffled brown hair of the boy covered his eyes as he stared at the door.

“What's going on?”

She didn’t reply. Small drops of blood from her wound dripped onto the floor. She stepped into the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

“What's happening?! Why won't you talk?” The boy said more frantically.

She quickly closed the distance, and as the boy tried to speak again, she embraced him. He returned the embrace hesitantly, at first, but then gave in to the desire to be close. It was easy then, a simple movement and the dagger pushed through the base of the skull. It was always more difficult when the young spoke.

The small corpse was still warm, as the door closed behind her on the way out. She dashed to the end of the hall and slipped out a window. A single cry of alarm echoed behind her as she left the estate, moving quickly through the city.

The job of an assassin was a bloody one, a point driven home by the blood dripping down her clothing. Her midsection ached as the wound there began to throb. She cursed herself, the talented sellsword who had been hired to safeguard the Lord’s estate was good, but she was better.

Time passed and her hurried movements slowed. Her body ached and her breath came out in shaky gasps. She limped through the mouth of a nearby alley and leaned against the side of a building, looking behind her as she moved. She gasped in pain and reflexively grasped at her wound. She looked down to see the blood covered hand, clutched desperately over the gruesome gash. It was a poor substitute for a bandage, and she saw the trail she had left behind. Her vision darkened and body tensed as she pushed from the wall. A bloody hand pressed to the wall to keep her from tumbling. If she could just...

Loud shouts came from the estate. Was that a bell, ringing in the distance? Her heart was pounding, and she peeked around the corner of the alley to scout the street ahead. A light appeared in the distance, moving towards her.

“Damn,” She spat between coughs.

She stumbled back to the other end of the alley, barely catching herself as she peered at the other street. Another light. Her eyes shot up to the edge of the building and she reached for a nearby ledge, light spilled from around the corner.

 "I found her!"

She turned, in her hand, a dagger.