Woosh!
The first of my arrows went through my enemies head.
The second went through his companions hand.
One more shot, and they were both dead.
They never saw it coming.
I headed back to camp, a sly grin forming on my mouth. I passed through the old oak gate that signified the safety of our Army. It closed behind me, a soft thud sounding as it did so. I strode past the guards, and straight into my masters tent. A cough made my presence known. "Ah, Enyo. Did you succeed?" Masters voice was deep, sounding throughout the room. He wasn't one for small talk, either. "Yes Master, I did." The smile that played accross his face was chilling, his black lips cracking away. A small drop of blood landed on the plush white carpet beneath us. He glanced at it. "Clean it up."
"Pardon, Master?" I didn't want to clean up. I was an assassin, not a maid.
"Clean it up. Now." My gaze swept accross the room. "Now." Masters icy blue eyes grew darker, a sign of anger, as I had learnt over the years. "Sorry Master. I have nothing to clean it with." I was on thin ice, and one wrong comment would have me falling through it. "Well find one." Masters eyes were black now.
I shrank back in fear, edging towards the tent door. "Yes, good idea Master. I'll do that now."
I slipped out.
I didn't like it when Master got like that. Angry and unforgiving. Thats what being the leader of an evil army did to you. "NOW!" My Masters voice carried from the tent. A servant scurried into his tent, looking nervous. She must have heard the rumours. I was glad I didn't know her. One less funeral for me to attend.
One stifled scream and it would all be over.
"Ahhhhh-" The scream was quickly muffled. Once again I thought about how glad I was that hadn't known the woman, even vaguely. I'd known some of the servants before they'd gone into His tent.
I cocked my head to the side, tryng to figure out how many people had perished in Masters tent this month. There was Hilda, my old maid, the butler last week, and many other people I didn't know. All together he had easily killed about 12 people in the last week, and I had attended about six ceromonies for them all. I hated Master for this, for all the killing that he did, but saying such thoughts aloud would have me killed before I could finish my mutinous comment. Huh, that'd be ironic; The assassin being assassinated. My mind wandered off, to the days when I had a happy family, and barely knew what a bow and arrow looked like.
Back when the war was nothing but whispered tales, rumours spread by the wind.
I quickly banished these thoughts from my mind - I had already assassinated too many members of my old life for things like remeniscing to be bearable.
The sound of a twig snapping brought me out of my oblivion. Spinning around quickly yet gracefully. I Iooked around for the cause, and found nothing. I turned back around, looking cautiously over my shoulder as I continued on my travels.
It took me an hour to get the blood off the carpet. Once I had, I headed back to my own tent.
My tent was tatty and humble compared to my masters, but I liked it that way. I'd never tell anyone here, but it reminded me of my home when I was little. When we barely had enough money to scrape by, but were happy with life anyway. I missed that.
Stupid! Stupid Leto! Why think about that!
The use of my real name made me even more upset. Enyo was the name Master gave me, when he 'found' me. I think it means horrible. I wouldn't even answer it if Master hadn't made me. Leto was my name. It meant 'Hidden One'. It suited me, with my grey eyes and black hair. I wasn't anything too special look-wise, so I blended into a crowd. My hair was currently in a ponytail, the most suitable and practicle style for an assassin. I was thinking about cutting shorter, but I hadn't got around to it yet. Busy killing all my old friends you see.
Who had I killed today? I hated Master for the deaths he caused, but I was just as bad. Worse, even. I killed my family and friends. It wouldn't matter if I could go back or not. They would all hate me now anyway. I knew for definite that I had killed my Uncle. I knew I'd killed my best friends sister, and brother. I'd killed his mother too.
Self hate over came me, waves of it crashing down on me, a tidal wave of guilt trying to drown me in my own crimes. Knowing what was coming next, I closed the tent door, tied the door shut and collapsed on my bed.
I allowed a single tear to roll down my cheek, trying my best to keep my emotions locked up. But I hadn't thought about my old life in years. Why were all these thought surfacing now, four years later? It was ridiculous. There's no point thinking about things you can't have, right? But then, what was it Dad always said? If you want something, you've got to make it happen. Something like that. Remembering this made me cry harder. Soon I was giving out stomach churning sobs. But my crying was not in honour of those I had killed, it was because no matter how hard I tried to deny it, a part of me enjoyed the death I had caused. I had tried to cover this part of me, but it was growing, and no amount of denial would hold it up. Even my sorow was self based. My tent was my haven. my soft sobs lulling me into a false sense of security, and before long I was sleeping, dreaming of my life with those I had killed.
*****
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SkulduggeryLover
