Defect

Chapter Three: The Hunter and the Hunted

Daracon ran through the empty streets, cloak billowing out behind him like an angry shadow. He lightly jumped over any obstacles and landed with the grace of a much younger man. Then, as if there was an unseen signal, he stopped running and flipped up his hood. He walked onto a busy street and the crowd parted around him seemingly unconsciously. The few silver patterns that adorned his cloak shimmered in the morning sun and signified he was a highly placed member of the Assassin's Guild. He quickly stepped into an empty alley, his eyes darting from person to person ceaselessly. He reached a tall, rundown house and with seemingly no effort glided up its walls to the rooftop. He looked around once, and stepped off.
He landed with barely a sound in a dusty courtyard. He walked towards a rotting door, not shifting the filth on the ground. A few seconds later, he had ducked through the small opening and was walking down a dank, mould infested tunnel. He was unperturbed and walked at a brisk pace for several minutes. As he got further in the tunnel dried and warmed up, becoming lighter and the air fresher.
He finally emerged into an underground courtyard, full of weapon racks and adolescents training. He breathed deeply, finding comfort in the smells of leather, sweat and oil. This is what he had known since childhood- it was he only home he had ever known. The cavern grew silent as the students saw him, a shadow unattached from the walls. They all turned and bowed, making the sign for good hunting as they did. Then, with due respect given, they turned back to their sparring and continued.
Walking up to one of the trainers he watched the fights, gauging the students techniques and potential.
"My lord," said Gart, a burly man who excelled in undercover tasks and poisons.
"Gart," he said, nodding and clasping the mans hand.
"What brings you here today, Baracon? Need a kid to make an example of, or maybe a potion for an assignment?"
"Can't I come and see an old pupil? Why do I need a reason?" Baracon said smiling, not wanting to disclose why he was here right away.
"No, sir, I know that look in your eyes. Someone's pissed you off," Gart said carefully.
Baracon laughed, a deep and rich sound that echoed through the yard, cutting through the sounds of weapons hitting other weapons.
"Sometimes I forget just how good you are, Gart. You're right, though, this isn't just a friendly visit." Gart nodded, knowing full well that it wasn't. "I need a few of your students. The best in combat, tracking and... magic, if you have any."
Gart's face showed how shocked he was for a few seconds, then he forced it back into a neutral expression.
"I can give you the first two, but the last will pose a challenge. We don't have anyone strong in magic, not like Lillith was. I can give you Sigyn, fighter, and Vidar as your tracker. Sigyn is the only one to show more than a rudimentary magical ability. She's... strong, but can't quite apply it, there's some kind of mental block. Whether it's of her own design or another's, I don't know."
"That's better than I expected," Daracon said with a sigh. "Call them over now, if you can."
Gart nodded once, quickly, and bellowed, "Sigyn, Vidar, to me!"
A tall, bronze skinned girl jogged over, with her long black hair tied and then stuck down the back of her shirt. As she arrived and muttered a greeting, Daracon's eyes were drawn towards the boy he assumed to be Vidar. He looked like a mirror copy of Lillith, the only difference was his eyes. The same chalk-white skin, flaming red hair with silver locks scattered throughout, same fluid movement and defiant jaw. His eyes seemed to draw in all the surrounding light and encase his face in darkness. They weren't black, or any other dark colour. The washed out purple with green flecks was somehow darker than the night sky.
Clearing his throat, Gert stepped forwards and gestured to Sigyn. "I'm sure you can figure out how to access her gift, sir. But these are my best students, I'm loath to part with them but... I serve the Order and its will."
Drawn out of his musings Daracon studied the two in front of him.
"Thank you, Gart, I promise their safety and will do what I can to keep that promise." He turned on his heel and strode away.
After a few steps he stopped abruptly and cocked his head to the side. Reaching into a sleeve, he whipped a hand behind him and two knifes flew towards the teens. They didn't flinch as they passed millimetres from their faces. Daracon nodded and called back to the two. "Follow me unless I say otherwise. I'll talk to you on the way out."
At Gart's nod, the two trotted after him, putting their weapons away as they passed. They caught up to Daracon and fell into step automatically.
There was silence as they walked out of the chamber and into the tunnel. Finally, Sigyn cleared her throat and spoke. "Sir, why do you need us? We're not full members yet, our master's piece is next month." She spoke slowly and deliberately, desperately trying to avoid sounding scared.
"No, you're not. But that's precisely why I needed you. I will train you on this journey though you will not become my apprentices. You, girl, have a block. I aim to remove it. Boy, I'm tracking dangerous prey. Both of you seem confident, but not overly so despite being the best in your respective fields. That is good."
Vidar spoke in a deep bass, "Who are you tracking, sir?"
Daracon whirled around and in an instant had him pinned to the floor and a knife to his throat. "How did you know that, boy?" He growled, words dripping with the threat of violence.
With feigned nonchalance Vidar shrugged. "Read that Gart figured you'd been pissed off. Made sense that you'd hunt them, given our profession. You also didn't tell Gart why you wanted us and avoided it until pressed. You slunk in until you were seen so you probably didn't want to draw attention to yourself." Sigyn looked shocked at his tone and shrunk into the shadows, fearing what might happen.
Daracon just nodded, and stood. "Should've expected as much from Xyron stock."
It was Vidar's turn to tense up, bloodlust emanating from him. Only his respect and fear kept him in check.
"Sir," came Sigyn's voice. "Where are we going?"