Fear's Union

Chapter Two

—Xen—

Xen crouched lower to the ground, creeping forward. Shivering. The sounds of battle were all around her. Even hidden in the rabbit-warren of Nazalia's streets, the breath of danger was everywhere. In some ways, being concealed was the worst place to be. The threat was hidden from her; ready to pounce. Then again, the danger was only a part of the problem. It was the weight of responsibility which really tolled. Damn Anejo, and damn her recklessness. She really resented her friend sometimes.

She prayed that the Brother, the pagan god of bravery, was close at hand. She couldn't see him in the cloudy sky. It was oppressively cloudy, but he might still be up there. Hopefully.

She turned to see only shadows behind her. The others were there, relying on her for strength, and she resented them too. She wanted to be hidden as much as the next rookie, but her eight fellow apprentices had followed her as if she were a commander. She was now their leader, their strong-willed director. How stupid was that? Her breathing was tight, oh so tight. And someone had put a lead bar in her stomach too. It dragged her down. She was no leader.

The street was miserable; a filthy place of overflowing drainage. She stepped gingerly, scanning her path for danger. Why had she ever let Anejo convince her to join this forsaken institution? She was no soldier, and she certainly wasn't a killer. She shook her head. Her senses were alert, relaying constant messages, but her will was weak. What she really wanted was a way out. Unfortunately, there was no easy way out.

Something plucked at her gut and she squatted instinctively, searching around her. She puffed her chest out and spread her shoulders, but it was a futile gesture. The devilish looking man jumped from the shadows, axe dropping fast. What should she do? Why had all her training abandoned her? She threw her simple sword up, and steel bit jarringly against steel. She yelped.

"Is that the cry of a woman, is it?"

He spoke with an uneducated thickness that mirrored his size. The appearance of the man was hard, like he lived in the constant grip of danger. And it appeared that he had formed robust protection, both physical and mental, against such a life. He was alert, and definitely angry. But there was also greed there, and something deeply unpleasant. Never before had being a woman been so uncomfortable.

He smiled grimly, revealing a half set of browned teeth. She slunk away, but he kept on coming.

"I'm gonna teach you how a woman should behave, bitch."

What a comic statement. It seemed so out of place in this situation that for the briefest moment she wasn't afraid. Then he continued his approached, and she backed up further.

"Come help me!"

None of her companions responded, and why would they? They were safe. A whimper escaped, and her assailant laughed. His would be an easy victory.

Or would it? She was of the Grey, after all, an organisation with an almost unrivalled reputation for killing. All in the name of the greater good, of course. But this man should be scared of her. He didn't seem it.

She held onto that thread, and recalled what Anejo had done just moments before. It sparked her from her paralysis. She smoothed her uniform, and the bastard laughed again.

No matter. She contained her anger, placing it carefully in a mental box, and ease spread forth. Then she closed her eyes. This was just another day of exercise, just another day of relentless repetition, and in that, her path was clear. It all happened so naturally.

He attacked; a cumbersome strike. Despite its crude execution, it was effective, and would have bowled her clean over. But it didn't. She stepped deftly aside. As her opponent's heavy axe swept past, she pressed her shoulder to his upper back and unbalanced him. He stumbled and fell into stagnant waste, sliding right into the muck. He climbed to his feet, and his face was spread with the filth. She laughed.