Dark Days

Another Errand

~there's a dark side to everything~

Year 396 Se.K

Another "errand" as they called it. On Laddle Road is a rich merchants home. It's decorated with swirls in the wood, pillared balconies, and flowerbeds housing rare and exotic plants. His job is to steal the merchants' gold and bring back the man. Alive, he might add. But they never said he couldn't harm him.

    Zephrys doesn't know why his 'masters' want this crude merchant, but it probably has something to do with torture and sought-after information. But who knows.

    The almost-ancient male—that doesn't look a day over twenty-five—had already watched the house for a week, trying to get a taste of the merchant's schedule. The man, somewhere in his thirties, left the house an hour before noon and returned after twilight. His servants were in and out all day, but the only time the locked doors were open for more than twenty seconds was around an hour before supper. A small, simple door framed in dark wood was at the side of the house. A girl-servant would leave the house with a bag of clothes to be laundered. She'd leave the door open while she went to the creek to set down the bag. Before she's run back to grab the wash-board, Zephrys would run in and hide in the upstairs office where the merchant would be when he'd get home

    Currently, Zephrys shifted into a more comfortable position where he sat in the alcove of a tree and preceded to use a blade to clean his nails. A knot in a branch dug horrible into his back and the merry chirping of the birds annoying him to no end.

    The knife slipped under a nail as a bird hopped joyfully on a nearby branch. As a sharp pain shot through his finger-tip, blood welled. He ground his teeth in anger and shouted an obscenity at the bird as he threw his knife at it. But the bird flapped away before the dagger pierced its heart, just like he knew it would.

    He green flecked with blue eyes glared at where the dagger now stuck out of the ground, his master's crest on the hilt facing up.

    The wind sighed through the trees, making a symphony of chatting leaves. Those vibrant tree-petals grazed Zephrys's mandatory buzz cut black hair as he climbed down gracefully.

    He winced when he jumped down. Then immediately cursing himself for doing so. He was trained not to show weakness like that, not to wince or flinch in pain. Not to limp or hold an injured arm to yourself. But he couldn't help it.

    Yesterday the Masters had broken and dislocated his knee over and over as it healed. They had done it in the cellars of the Visitors House so those in the upper levels making illegal deals couldn't hear his screams. Although you can't do much to contain the piercing screams of his species.

    He shook his head and let the memories fly off with the wind. No need to pull on the string that would only bring up more painful recollections.

    A mouse squeaked, or rather the side door did. Soft, chestnut hair tucked underneath a kerchief, the servant girl swiped at a stray strand as she hauled the laundry bag over her shoulder. Like every day before, she left the door wide open.

    "Darrow," he cursed on the name of the forsaken mountain chain that none have ever passed through.

    He realized a moment too late his mistake.

    The girl stopped, her wide owl-like eyes looked to his strange ones. Zephrys brought his shadows to him, but it was too late. The frightened girl opened her mouth to shout a warning, but Zephrys ran on a phantom breeze and let that Killing-Power that made him the Doom-Bringer spread through him and out through his fingers. Then he gave the girl an invitation to death she could not refuse.