The Assassination of Taran May (The Beginning...)

I wrote the first part of a short story some time ago, and am still working on it...hope you enjoy!

Dew trickled down the windows of the town shops as an overnight frost melted in the late morning sun. Summer was making a valiant stand but winter remained inevitable. Farmers rushed to harvest their every last grain, desperate to avoid hunger should cold delay the bounty of spring. The savvier among them had planted more than their families required, seeking to gain on another’s imprudence. The clatter of horses’ hooves filled the air, and outdoor marketeers called above the din to all who could hear. Their stands were arrangements of vibrant color, displaying the last bushels of strawberries, peaches, oranges, corn, spinach, squash, and all the other gifts of Tala.

The soft mud that had begun to form in the streets after the morning thaw stuck to Ava’s sandals, and as she ran it squished uncontrollably in the spaces between her toes, and caked the top of her feet. Mother had told her to put on her shoes, but Ava disliked laces, and to wear shoes would mean she had given up on summer. No. She would never surrender until she had already lost. She was especially buoyant today. Daddy was finally coming home, just in time for her birthday on the morrow. He had been away since the end of the last winter, gone so swiftly one morning that the only thing Ava, or her mother and brother, could sense in the weeks afterward was the weight of his absence.

She had asked her mother repeatedly as to the whereabouts of her Daddy, and her mother, with smiles that daily grew thinner, explained each time that he had been called to help the Executive Council in the capital city of Malak. Her father was a leader, and his assistance was sorely needed to ensure the safety of the Intalan Kingdom. Ava woke each day, and giddily ran into the family room. This would be the morning, surely, when she would find her father had returned to sit in his chair by the fire, and she would jump onto his lap as she had always done. And nothing would be wrong as if nothing had ever been wrong. She would be safe as she had always been safe. She spent afternoons waiting on the outskirts of the town, watching travellers pass through the gates. As distant figures approached she stood anxiously, wishing them be her Daddy, and each renewed hope was followed by disappointment. Once her father returned the house could be complete again, friends would come around again, food would be savory again, and, most important of all to Ava, Mother could cease her silent fretting.

As the summer had worn on, Ava noticed her mother became increasingly distracted, engrossed so deeply in her own thoughts she seemed oblivious to her surroundings, and often paced the floor incoherently. On several occasions, she even forgot to prepare dinner, and when Ava would tell her about how the boys in town had picked on her intense green eyes, or tried to pull her hair out, believing it impossibly dark and unnatural, her mother sat expressionless. She wasn’t listening. Daddy would have listened, but Mother couldn’t because she was thinking of Daddy. She awoke one night to the piercing cries of her brother Samuel, who lay feverish in his crib. Ava held him close and consoled him. She called for her mother to no avail and finally found her staring out of the dining room window. When Ava startled her with a shake, her mother smiled and immediately attended to Samuel, speaking to him in soft and sweet tones. Still, Ava longed for her father’s return, but he remained uncommunicative.

It was only late the previous night, as the house was darkened for slumber, that there came a sharp rap on the door, followed by several more in quick succession. A rider appeared in front of them when they answered.
“Mrs. Langle?”
“Yes.”
“This is for your immediate attention.”

He nodded dutifully, and traced his steps back to his horse. Ava watched as Mother opened the envelope, sealed and stamped with the official crest of the Executive Council. She gasped, and then held her breath, until at last she had finished reading the contents.

“Ava,” she said, as a broad smile crossed her lips, “your father is coming home tomorrow.”They hugged tightly, and tears cascaded down their cheeks. “Now, you must still get to bed,” Mother continued, “and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ava went to bed but could not sleep for the anticipation welling within her. She slipped out of her room, and sat next to her father’s chair in the family room. It was dusty, having been in want of an occupant for many months. Ava polished it before curling up and falling asleep against its dark wooden frame. In the morning she implored her mother to let her go to the town gates to meet Daddy. She was certain she would be able to spot him, because he would arrive at the gate next to the Temple, so he could pay respects to Father Rikantu, as he always did. Seeing the affection in her daughters’ eyes as she spoke, Mrs. Langle could not refuse. Ava was at the center of town before her mother could insist for a second time on wearing shoes, and she ran on grateful that no word was spoken about the dress she wore. Warm wind and dust swept across her bare legs as she emerged from the center markets, and crossed the short grassy plain before the town gate.

The towering gate granted access to the village, and was situated off the Valdane Road. The guard post stationed there had lately been doubled, and then trebled. Recent reports from Valdane had confirmed that Sidonis, called the Bachelor King, had finally wed well past his fiftieth year. His new, and much younger bride was Elysia, Queen of Valdane. A woman, Intalans claimed, as immoral as she was ugly. The fear that this capricious beast would provide their neighboring land with generations of future rulers rattled the core of every Intalan. An increased wariness upset an already fragile relationship. The Intalan Temple of the Righteous Sacrifice increased their daily sermons from three per day, to seven in order to provide Intalans with the spiritual strength necessary to stave off evil.

Travel between the two lands was restricted when Intala closed their side of the border gate. Visitors from Valdane, who came in droves to barter in the Intalan outdoor markets, were limited to fifty at a time, and they were closely watched. The arid fields of Valdane provided only meager crops, and many in that country had come to rely wholly on Intala’s great harvest to feed their families. As animosities grew, some of the merchants refused to sell to Valdanians, who re-crossed the border empty handed and hungry.

“Here again?” asked one of the guards in a light tone as Ava approached.
“Yes, I’m here to meet my Daddy,” she replied excitedly.
“So today is the day, is it?”
The guard laughed, and lifted her bodily to the top of the stone wall, where she could hold on to the iron posts that stuck out vertically from it, and watch the road. The guard was named Michello, and he had taken a liking to Ava over the course of the summer, relieving the tedium of his position by relating to her the tales of Intala and Valdane.

“Many centuries ago,” he told her, “Intala and Valdane were one kingdom, and Arturis ruled all the land. There were no mountains then, only flat, and lush farmland that provided more food than the people needed. In thanks, some farmers gave sacrifice to Tala, Goddess of the Harvest. This made Arturis bitter, for he believed that the people should give thanks only to him, as their King and their God. When the people refused to acknowledge him as their savior, he burned villages as children slept, slaughtered the farmers’ cattle, and raped maidens. In fear the people fled north, to the land in which we now live. Arturis chased after them with his legions, so ravenous they would eat the flesh of man, but before he could reach them, Tala raised the mountains to protect her worshippers from the terror at their backs. And so now we live in this bountiful land, surrounded by the mountains. We live under the protection of Tala, and must always be faithful to her, or the mountains will fall, and we will succumb to the demons of Valdane.”

Ava had never seen Valdane. In every direction, the horizon was interrupted by the mighty Sephanal Mountains. Even when the warmth of the sun shone over the fields of Intala, and kissed the skin of its inhabitants, the peaks of the Sephanals were covered in ice. Storytellers said that only wolves could survive in such unforgiving terrain, and even they were few. The ice-capped peaks melted slowly, almost imperceptibly, in the warmer months and the constant runoff of fresh water formed the Shallow Sea, which lay to the west. In reverence, Michello explained that this fresh water, seeping under all the land of Intala, was a gift of the Goddess, and provided the abundant harvest, but the sea was never much deeper than a man was tall.

He sketched the mountains and the sea in the dirt, and explained that while Valdane could be viewed across its expanse, the Shallow Sea was too deep to cross by foot, and too shallow to cross by boat. As an extra precaution, Intala had fortified the high cliffs that ran along the entire length of its shoreline. Any attempt at fording the sea would be slow, making the invaders easy targets. Valdane recognized the folly of such an endeavor, and had never bothered with a water crossing. Intalans were blessed, then, because the only way to access their neighbor – and their neighbors’ only access to them - was through the Valdane Road, a narrow pass, with an armored gate at the border. In the event Valdanians managed to get through, each town, like hers, along the road was walled off, each with its own gate. This way, individual communities could not be swarmed. There had never been an invasion, thanks to Tala’s protection, but, as Michello noted with a tremor in his voice, with Elysia as the new Queen of Valdane, nothing was certain. It was a test of the faith of every Intalan. Soon, he said, the border gate would be closed permanently, and all trade frozen.

Though Michello recognized the severity of this news, he noticed that Ava was only half listening this afternoon, and returned to his duties. The sun had reached beyond its zenith, and though Ava became hungry, she refused to leave until her Daddy returned. She looked down at the flowers growing alongside the entire length of the wall, and saw a shadow moving to her right. It was lithe and reached her before she could look up. An arm grabbed her through the bars, then another, and she was held totally.

“Got ya!” exclaimed her Daddy. He beamed at her, his eyes bright, his face three days unshaven, his black hair ruffled, his skin leathered, his clothes dusty, and his body in need of a clean scent.
“Daddy!” Ava rejoiced. She kissed him on the cheek, and wrapped her arms as far around him as she could. “How did you see me before I saw you? I’ve been watching all day.”
“So you’re her Daddy?” Michello said, intrigued. “She’s been waiting more than a day.”
“I am her Daddy, and I had to surprise my favorite little girl on her birthday,” he said, grinning at her through the bars.
“Your birthday?” Michello said in a melodramatic tone, “you didn’t tell me it was your birthday. And just how old are you?”
“Eight today, nine tomorrow,” She bounced on her toes. “Are we going home now Daddy?”
His face turned somber and he looked towards the ground.
“I don’t know if I can go home tonight,” he said.
Ava’s smile fell, and her eyes widened.
“Why? You’re already here. Why would you leave again?”
“Well, you see, Ava,” he paused, then looked back up at her, “I can’t fit through these bars.”

He pressed his shoulders into the bars, and tried to squeeze his head and torso into the spaces between, turning in every direction with contorted expressions on his face. Ava laughed, and wriggled from his grasp. She ran past Michello to the other side of the wall. Her father turned to her and picked her up. She put her arms around his neck and held on.
“Hey!” he said in wonderment, “maybe I could just walk through the gate! Do you think that would work?”
“Yes,” she stretched the word.

Her Daddy laughed again as he carried her back through the gate, and gave Michello the customary pleasantries. Michello was courteous in reply, and after they’d passed, he also waved to a boy in a nearby lookout tower, then resumed his watch on the road. Daddy carried Ava towards the Temple of the Righteous Sacrifice, where he let her fall gently out of his arms to the ground.
“I must see Father Rikantu,” he said.
Ava already knew this, and was prepared to wait. She looked up him expectantly. The sun was soon to set.
“Are you going to be long? I’m hungry, and Mother is making a big dinner.”
“Not too long, I must give the Father my thanks for a safe journey.”
“I can come in and give thanks too,” Ava said, with a mixture of relief and exuberance, “because you finally came home.”

James Langle looked at his daughter, and smiled. Yes, it has been a long time. Ava had grown since he’d last seen her, and Samuel was a son he barely knew. He thought of his wife, as he had thought of her every night throughout his season away. He had ached for her embrace, the lavender scent of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the soft, sweet taste of her lips, the warmth of her core. Mrs. Langle knew that the nature her husbands’ work was unpredictable, and necessarily secretive, but little prepared either of them for months of separation, for the lack each other’s love. As his daughter stared up towards him, of a sudden he realized that he had left the most important work of his life unattended. He had left his family alone in strife, and unprotected, in service to a call greater than them all. But what could be greater than this?

“I have a gift for you. For your birthday.”
“My birthday is tomorrow. Tomorrow is my special day.” Ava held her arms wide, and twirled.
“Well,” her father said softly, “I think you are special everyday.”

From the deep pockets of his robes he slowly pulled out a chain, and dangling off it was a small, carefully etched plaque. He swung it from two fingers in front of Ava. She snatched it from him. The necklace was heavier than she’d guessed. In the foreground of the engraving was the church by which they stood. She could place a fingernail inside a deeper cut in the metal that traced a path from the church to her own home, which was embossed in the background. In between these two points was the outline of the village itself, though these picturesque details were comparatively vague. The bottom of the plaque was a smooth semi circle, the top half was cut to match the outline of the Sephanal Mountains. Nine were displayed, and, further above one of them near the center was an image of the sun, with a bird seeming to fly just underneath it. Ava glided her fingers over the surface.
“Can I wear this tonight, Daddy?”
“Of course.”
A flight of swallows passed high above them, and settled in a culvert near the church, which carried a stream under the town wall to the opposite side of the Valdane Road. The limbs and leaves of the trees seemed to sway in response to their cheeps. In the distance, the late afternoon sun dropped further behind the mountains, and cast a red glow over the village. Ava looked at her necklace again.
“Why do the birds always fly here at night?”
James looked back for a second. “Well,” he said, “they have been fluttering and singing all day. And when the day ends they look for a place safe and warm. Only when they are safe and warm can they go to sleep.”
“But they can’t fly on top of the mountains, like they do in this picture,” she said, in a proud tone. She had outsmarted him.
“Why not?”
“Because the mountains are higher than the sky,” Ava said, pointing in their direction.
James laughed, crouched to her height, and in a whisper said, “I think that if you were a bird, you could fly higher than the sky, just like in the picture.”
Ava giggled, and put her necklace on.
“It’s heavy.”
“It is made of iron, so you will have it always.” He paused. “Now wait for me on the steps while I speak with Father Rikantu.”
“Okay.”

Ava took a seat. The steps added a layer of dirt to the back of her dress. Mother would scold her for being so filthy. She held the necklace again as it hung from her neck. In the last glimmer of daylight she noticed the inscription on the back, which read: “To Our Darling Ava, on her ninth birthday. You are our treasure, and each day we love you more.” She felt a pulse of joy, and, steadying herself on her hands, stretched out her legs in front of her like a contented cat. She looked toward home, and remembered her hunger.

She longed for some fruit, a plum, perhaps, dripping, and sweet but, bereft of coin, she could only look forward to dinner. Nonetheless, her growling stomach became more than an incidental want, and absentmindedly she put her birthday gift in her mouth. Her teeth made no mark on the iron, but the sensation on her tongue was vile. The shock caused her to pull it out immediately. She felt the metallic residue coat the inside of her mouth as she over salivated. She spit, but her mouth filled again. In an effort not to swallow she gagged, and then stood on the church steps as the spit began to flow out of her before she could direct it. Drool escaped the corner of her lips, it slid down her chin, and hung momentarily before it dropped, and spotted the top of her dress. Her throat closed, and her stomach clenched so violently it gripped her entire body. She dry heaved with loud, uncontrolled retching sounds, and her mouth filled again. Her belly hurt, her head became fuzzy, her eyes watered, but somehow each heave offered relief, it was oddly pleasurable, and she hoped it would not stop until the metal was gone. When the heaving stopped, she had again forgotten her hunger, and she could spit no more. The taste in her mouth was tolerable, but she desperately wanted to wash it out. James heard her from inside the church, and burst through its doors.

“Ava, what’s the matter?” She told him.
“My silly, silly girl,” he teased.
“I need a drink, my mouth tastes nasty.” She frowned, mildly nauseous.
At that moment Father Rikantu appeared on the church steps. Ava and her family attended the church at least twice a week, and while she liked Father Rikantu, he was morose in his bearing, gangly, long of face and fingers, he had finely trimmed white beard, a fixed expression of solemnity, and a speech of humorless sonority.
“James, do you have a moment? I should very much like to speak with you. It has been a long time.”
“Yes, Father. Ava is feeling ill.” Turning to her, he asked, “can you get home alright?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Go then, and tell your mother I’ll be there shortly.”
“Bye, Father,” Ava waved to Rikantu, and bolted for home. James turned away and entered the church. Father Rikantu shut the door behind them, and led the way to his second floor office.
“Quickly, James, we have no time.”
“Have couriers arrived from the Executive Council?”
“No, but I’m expecting them at any time. We have received new orders from Regdale.”
“Valdane? We haven’t heard anything in months.”
“Our King has been busy with his new wife. Elysia is hardly more popular in our homeland than she is here in Intala. The Executive Council’s decision to close the gate because of their union has caused food rationing in Valdane. The people are panicked by fears of starvation and are demanding that the Queen abdicate, and Sidonis marry someone more suitable.”
“Suitable to Intala?”
“Suitable for peace.”

James sat back in his chair. He and his wife had left Valdane years earlier, before Ava was born. For what purpose, I can’t remember. The Temple of the Righteous Sacrifice was considered Valdane’s biggest obstacle in retaking Intala. Armies cannot conquer belief. Rikantu had insinuated himself years earlier as a preacher, and was the first person from Valdane to read the Intalan religious texts. As his respectability grew within the church, he was able to use his influence to recommend James as a member of the Monastic Brotherhood. After years of vetting, James had only just begun his studies and training. The Intalan Executive Council – indeed any governing body in Intala, including its military – were the willing puppets of the church. For its part, the church insisted on a public separation between itself and the government, but had methodically installed members of the Monastic Brotherhood in the most influential posts, either elected or appointed. The notion that Intala could exert such a powerful influence over his homeland, and his King, riled James deep within. Has all my work been for naught?

“Is it true, Father?” James asked, his voice rising, “is Elysia descended from Arturis? It’s been the mainstay of your sermon for months. Every Intalan is in fear of the specter that he has come back through our new Queen. And now Valdanians starve, and our Kingdom weakens.”
Rikantu was stern in his reply.
“I preach what the Brotherhood demands. Anything less, and I would be exposed. So would you. You know that. As to the claims regarding her ancestry, I really can’t say. The possibility is there, but it’s thin. Intalan texts claim that Tala raised the earth at the place Arturis stood, which would strand him and his forces at the top of the Sephanal Mountains. No account has reached either side of anyone who survived a climb to the highest peaks, much less returned. Any tales the storytellers churn out are embellished speculation. Elysia came from the Highlands in the north, but there are so many conflicting stories about her origins, and her family, it’s been impossible to parse the truth. She is white, lighter than any Valdanian, or Intalan, as if she were born from the snow. Or she could just be a woman who gained the rapture of our King.”
James sat silent for a moment. If he was a loyal servant to his King, so must he also be to his Queen.
“What are our orders?”
“Queen Elysia believes that there is a second path to Intala, near the Shallow Sea. We are to uncover it.”

James considered the question. He had spent six months ingratiating himself with the Monastic Brotherhood. He had trained with them, ate with them, slept with them, bled with them. He had sworn to defend Tala, a God he despised. He raced through his memories for any hint of such a passage. Since the Brotherhood only spoke in terms of scripture, a second passage wouldn’t have been referred to by its common name. James focused his eyes downward to let his mind rest. Moments later, in the scratch marks of the wooden floor, the answer appeared in front of him, as if by magic. The womb of Tala. He looked up at Rikantu.

“The Brotherhood reads only from the Black texts.”
“So they are real?” said Rikantu, “academics are still debating whether or not those texts actually exist.”
“Well, they do. They are very similar to the scripture you preach in Temple, but the Black Text doesn’t say that Tala simply raised the mountains where Arturis stood. It states that she laid down before Arturis, and birthed the Sephanals. The waters of the Shallow Sea are actually blood, gushing from her womb, which lies below the earth. The abundance in this land does not come from her protection, or design, but from the potency of her womanhood, which is infinite as long it remains undisturbed.”
Rikantu stared ahead, stone faced.
“What does that have to do with a second passage?”
“If the waters of the Shallow Sea are sourced from below, then, conceivably, there is a path underneath the mountains. A cave, most likely.”

Father Rikantu walked to the window, and gazed down at the town below. The village constable had started lighting the gas lamps along the streets. They appeared as dim specks that outlined the major thoroughfares of the town, which was now close to total darkness. The villagers had returned to their homes to settle down for the night, and the streets were bare save for the occasional urchin, scavenging amongst the fruit stands for a dropped berry, ripe or moldy, trampled or whole. Rikantu had often stared out of his window and watched them eat sand for lack of a discarded grain. The marketeers wasted nothing, and took pity on no one without funds.

“It’s all rubbish,” he said “all of the scriptures are rubbish. I’ve preached them day in and day out for more than twenty years, and I still don’t understand how a reasonable mind can take them seriously.”
James disregarded the statement. “If Tala birthed the Sephanals, it’s possible that she didn’t stop Arturis, or strand him, after all. Perhaps she submitted to his advance.”
“No.” Rikantu’s tone became harsh. “That’s not possible. Your time in training with the Brotherhood has filled your mind with drivel. Tala and Arturis were enemies. The only thing that prevented her destruction was the rise of the Sephanals.”
“But what if Arturis wasn’t chasing glory?” James insisted, “What if he was chasing love? As a King he would have been the mortal closest to Tala and Gods are slaves to their creation. A mutual passion could have united them.”
“Rubbish!” Rikantu shrieked, “we’re talking about a mountain range, James. How could any being force a mountain range out of their loins? There must be some other explanation.”
James had to agree the idea was far fetched. He racked his brain for an alternative.
“Perhaps she didn’t give birth to them, perhaps she transformed into them. Maybe Tala is the Sephanals.”
“Ugh, ghost stories and myth are of equal credibility.”
“Well, where did they come from? Even our own histories state there were no mountains when Arturis first ascended the throne.”

“This is the work of the Brotherhood, James, I’m sure of it. They’ve spent centuries infecting minds, and sewing confusion. Intalans come to this temple everyday, callow, pitiful fools, all of them. The only thing they believe is that their only purpose is to suck on their mother’s tit. Look at us now, trying to find logic in one of their stupid fables. And my role as a preacher is to train them how not to think.” He let out a heavy sigh, and quietly continued. “If there is a cave network underneath the Sephanals, we need to find it before the Brotherhood does, so we can use it to crush Intala, and reclaim our dominion, with the Valdane Road closed, it’s our only viable option. If Intala refuses to trade, sooner or later we will be starved into submission. Sidonis has always been satisfied with half a kingdom. Elysia is not.”

“The Brotherhood may already know of the location, I fear. The Black Texts contained charts I was not allowed to see. Only the High Knights and their attendants could view them. ”
“Why did they send you back here, James? Your training was supposed to last much longer than this.”
“All brothers in training were sent back to defend their villages once they had decided to close the road. I’m awaiting the orders of the High Knights.”
“Keep your ears open, James. If they know of a second passage they’ll want to defend it.”
“Indeed we do, Father.”
Startled, James and Rikantu turned to face Michello, who stood in the doorway, his sword drawn.
“James, you didn’t mention that the High Knights were stocked with half-wits. It seems we don’t have any worries after all.” Rikantu offered Michello a derisive look as he spoke.
“It is you who are the fools! You have a very chatty daughter Mr. Langle,” he said fiercely. His spittle sprayed the pair, but neither took their eyes off of the intruder.
“Have you come to kill us?” James asked.
“You are enemies of Tala, a curse on this land, sent to destroy us. The Brotherhood is imperfect, but always vigilant. I found you out Langle. It was very unwise of you to contact your wife last night. Security is very tight these days. I took great pleasure in reading your letter. Now, give me the necklace.”
“The necklace?”
Fear curled through James’s insides. Ava.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know! I sent word of your treachery to the Brotherhood. High Knights have been sent to your home.”
“Then why are you here?” Rikantu demanded.
“Others have had their eye on you, Father. Your sermons have been a little too friendly towards Elysia. She deserves no salvation. We let her courier go, after he delivered his last message to you. Oh! How he raced for the border! He wanted to get back to Valdane so badly we just had to let him go. But I don’t think he’ll get far without his hands or feet.” Michello smiled at the thought.
James and Father Rikantu looked at each other for a moment. Rikantu bowed his head in acceptance.
“Do you really think it would be wise to kill a Temple preacher, Michello? I don’t think the townsfolk will think too highly of you tomorrow.”
“You are Valdanian scum!” Michello screamed with all the force in his lungs, “I came for one, but now I have both of you! I protect Tala! Give me the necklace.”
Michello stepped towards James, ready to pierce his midsection with the sword. Rikantu moved directly in between the two before Michello had covered the distance.
“I will kill you,” spat the guard.
“I am already an old man, and I shall die happy in the knowledge that our gracious Queen Elysia has the means to crush your whore of a Goddess, and take her rightful place as ruler of Intala.”

Michello snorted and turned red. In a flash, he pushed his sword forward and felt little resistance as it entered Rikantu’s body at the navel, puncturing his stomach and intestines, and severing his spine before finally exiting his back. James stepped swiftly to the left to avoid being wounded by the blade, and from his robe he removed a dagger. Michello was about to extract his sword from Rikantu’s body when he felt a sharp pain above his right ear, as James thrust the dagger into his brain, and twisted. The agony was short lived as Michello went limp, staggered backward for a few steps, and fell to the ground, his form resembling a splayed heap. His heart stopped, but his body continued a random jerking.

Rikantu fell to his knees, the sword still protruding from his body. He looked at James, and moved his mouth in an effort to speak, but all James could hear was a gurgle as blood pooled in the preacher’s throat. Rikantu made an effort to swallow it, but it pushed upward again. He made one final gasp before he spewed a mixture of blood and the undigested contents of his stomach. James rushed over and helped him lay to on his side, then pulled the sword from the Father’s gut. I must grieve for you another day, my friend. He walked over to Michello, removed the sword belt from the still twitching body, and fastened it around his own waist. I must get my family out of here before the Brotherhood shows up. He yanked the dagger from Michello’s head, and put the stained weapon back in his robe. Quickly he jumped out of the second story window, and began a sprint through the village towards his home. He took the river path, to avoid the lights of the town.