OUR SPOT // SkepHalo

Chapter 10

Warning: Death, gore, betrayal, injuries

     Darkness enveloped him, created a barrier between his conscious and the act he was about to commit. The man took one last look at his packed bag. As soon as he was done, he would have to escape. No one would know he'd done it until morning if everything went according to plan.

     He left a bag of silvers on his nightstand; his payment for the room he'd stayed in. Gently, and with great care, the man pulled his sword out from under his mattress. The blade reflected the moonlight streaming through the window. In the silence of the night, the old inn creaked and groaned. A storm was blowing in. Just in time to cover his tracks.

     He tucked the weapon into the sheath at his side, letting his thoughts drift away into the silence of the night. This job was a particular one, and one doubt, one uncontrolled daydream, could cost his life. He repeated his brother's words in his head.

     " This man attacked a spice ship of mine, yet he still has the gaul to visit my kingdom for holiday," his brother had said. " I think it only fair that he meet the same fate as my ship. Destined to never return home."

     And so it would be done. His brother had declared it; his target would never see his homeland again.

     The hallways were eerie at night. While everyone was tucked comfortably into their beds, one guest crept past their doors. He stepped lightly, in a practiced fashion, as if he'd done it a million times before. His target would never hear him coming.

     His target had chosen to occupy the largest room in the inn, which just so happened to be located on a separate floor from all the rest. It was a huge advantage for someone who didn't want to cause a scene. Going up the stairs, however, was extremely tricky. Nearly every one of them creaked under pressure.

     Gently, he skipped the first two steps, sticking close to the railing where there was less chance of revealing his presence. From there, he gingerly pushed off the railing and skipped the next six stairs. With that, he reached the top, and the only remaining challenge would be the guards.

     He stepped carefully, still wary of the old floorboards. The first guard was positioned at the end of the hallway, but the man had yet to see him. Slowly, the assassin pulled a hood over his face, hiding his identity from the guard as he crept closer. The man was half asleep, it seemed, so he didn't even notice the assassin until he was dead on the ground.

     Without sparing another thought, the hooded figure proceeded around the corner, and down another painfully long hallway. At the end, there were two more guards. However, these two saw the assassin before he could hide himself in the shadows, and stood at the ready.

He prayed they wouldn't make too much noise and he pounced into action. Their swords clashed together, creating a ruckus he hoped couldn't be heard by anyone else. He kicked one in the stomach, causing him to lose balance long enough to have his throat cut. The remaining guard hit the assassin's shoulder with the butt of his sword, causing him to hiss in pain.

     The guard stepped forward to slash at the attacker, but he was too slow. The assassin ducked down and kicked out his feet. The man fell with a yelp and his life was brought to a swift, but merciful, end. The hooded figure leaned against the wall to recover his lost breath, when he looked to the left and spotted his target's door with only one man standing post.

     Except this guard bore a familiar face.

     Harvey stared with wide eyes at the corpses of his fellow guards, then up at the hooded figure. He spun on his heel and lit a lantern as fast as he could. Shakily, he turned back to the assassin and called down at him, " Who are you?"

     Darryl realized Harvey hadn't recognized him, but he felt no relief. The young guard unsheathed his sword gingerly, still holding the lantern in his other hand. The brunette stepped forward, feeling nauseous as he debated what his best option was. He had no choice. His job had to be done, or his brother would send another in his place.

     Harvey had to die.

     He charged, his blade gripped firmly in his hands. The smaller man was surprised by the sudden movement and the lantern slipped from his grasp. It shattered and flames roared to life in front of Darryl, stealing the shield of darkness from him. The assassin's stomach dropped as a look of recognition finally passed over Harvey's face.

     " Darryl," Harvey whispered softly, his defenses falling. " Why?"

     The brunette's face fell, but he didn't respond. He took one step forward, and then another, his sword raised. The young man shook his head in disbelief, but raised his own weapon anyway. Suddenly, his expression hardened and he went on the attack. Darryl was taken aback by the rush of moves Harvey was using on him, ones he hadn't even witnessed during their sparing.

     " I held back on you!" Harvey shouted, slashing at Darryl's torso. He grunted as the assassin's foot landed square in his gut, but he barely flinched. " I thought you were my friend!"

     Darryl cried out in pain as the man impaled his shoulder. Harvey pulled the bloodied sword back and kicked out with his legs. The assassin clenched his jaw through the pain, letting the adrenaline block it out.

     He jumped over Harvey's kick and hit his friend's back with the butt of his sword. The young guard stumbled, but recovered quickly, catching Darryl's sword before he could strike again. They pushed against each other, equally matched in strength.

     Darryl felt his vision getting fuzzy as the pain became too much and he began to lose a concerning amount of blood. Harvey stared into the eyes of his former friend. He wore an expression of hurt and betrayal. The brunette grew weaker by the second and the guard was able to steal the sword from him. The young man raised the sword above his head and prepared to strike.

     Suddenly, Harvey's eyes went wide and he coughed up blood.

     With a yank, Darryl pulled the knife from the man's gut. Harvey stumbled, choking on blood and collapsing to the ground.

     Darryl fell to his knees, pulling the body of the dying young man into his arms. A tear escaped Harvey as the light dimmed in his once-vibrant eyes. He lifted a shaky hand and put it on Darryl's face.

     The brunette choked back a sob, tears welling up inside his own eyes as well. He repeated over and over again until his throat was dry, " I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry-"

     Harvey's hand fell from Darryl's face, landing limply at his side.

     He was dead.

     Darryl set him down gently on the ground and stood up. He took one last look at the body of the man in front of him. A man who had so much left to offer, who had so much left to live for. The man he'd just murdered.

     He burned the image into his brain and turned away. He would never let himself forget. That moment would haunt him for as long as he was in this dreaded business. He opened his target's door, and slashed his throat. It was too quick a death, too merciful an end, for someone he had never even spoken to. Meanwhile, the young guard, his friend, met a gruesome and painful end by someone he thought he could trust. The irony was unbearable.

     Darryl heard shouts from down the hall, and he knew the crime scene had been discovered. Quickly, he turned to the nearest window.

     And disappeared into the night.