King Geezers and Bloody War (Chapter 6)

Hello Steemits.
Here is another instalment of my wonderfully badly written novel. So here is ->

Chapter 6

Ruff idles along the track to his next contact, Motyl a step behind, practising three moves Ruff and taught her that morning, two attacks and one defence. He also gave her a bow and showed her how to use it, but none of it came natural to Motyl and this frustrated Ruff. A good assassin, even an average one, could pick up one of the essential fighting skills.

Motyl on the other hand, fumbles through all of them. Her only skill worth noting, Ruff thought, was her skill at killing with large stones to bludgeon or pebbles to sniper rabbits with. At distances that even Ruff found hard to hit with a bow, she could achieve with a pebble, with deadly accuracy.

Ruff gives a slight snicker at this thought, 'Well, at least the rabbits won't see it coming. Motyl Soptit, Assassin of Rabbits' He turns to look at her practising. 'At least she is determine to try.'

Distant sounds of village life returns his attention to the upcoming task. He stops and Motyl frowns at him. She is about to speak when Ruff holds up a hand then points for them to enter the underbrush. They slink through for a few yards before Ruff picks a spot to stop at.

In a low voice “Give me some of your equipment, keep only the knife and some food.” Without hesitation, she gives Ruff the rest and holds back a few scant items. She looks at him with curious study as he digs a shallow hole and places their goods into it. “Never enter village, town or city with all of your kit. If it goes south, you have something for backup.” Motyl nods with understanding as he covers the hole. They both make their way back to the track and watch the road, to make sure it is clear, before rejoining it and make the rest of their way to the town.

Ruff notes that there is only local militia village protection. This is a good sign, and Ruff starts to blend in to the local scene. Motyl catches on and follows suit. They wonder the village till Ruff stops beside an empty thatch stall. He pulls out his knitting and places some on to a bench in the stall. He sits and works on a new creation. Before he can fill her in on his charade, Motyl takes initiative and starts to hawk some of his wares. 'Well, the girl catches on quick to blend, at least she can do that.'

In causal conversation tone Motyl asks Ruff. “So who are we looking for?”.

“We don't look for anyone. They find.”

She is about to question this when a man marches up to the stall. “What do you think your doing, this is my stall!”

Ruff looks up at the man, he is starved and hollow around the face, his clothes are hanging off of a skeletal frame but the man is lively and blunt. Ruff stands and is about to square off on the man when Motyl grabs the man by the arm in a friendly playful way.

“Aye, sorry sir but my father and I was just resting from a journey and saw this here stall and just thought we would make a bit of coin to show the rest of our way.” She gives the man a sincere smile and walks him some steps away from the stall. Ruff watches closely as he sits back down. Motyl turns on her female charms and pretends to be hiding her lewd intentions from her “Father”. The man starts to fondle her but then glances back to Ruff and smiles nervously.

Ruff pretends to be angry at this and fains rising from his seat again. The man stops and leans in to say something into Motyl’s ear, she laughs and slaps the man in a jolly way then indicates to Ruff that all is well. Ruff returns to the seat and looks down at his work, smiling. 'The girl is good, she has him eating out of her hand.’

“Bart!” comes a woman's voice from across the way. Ruff looks up and there is a sour looking thin woman heading towards Motyl and the man.

Motyl, in an instant, also yells at the man, “You brutish liar!” before slapping him across the face, then storms back to the stall. The man is left stun and holding his face before his wife grabs him and starts to really give him an ear full of abuse.

Motyl reaches Ruff with a mischievous smile and Ruff can not help but admire her quick thinking abilities.

“You were lucky girl, that that didn't get out of hand with his wife. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Motyl's smile disappears and she looks down cast. “I'm sorry Ruff, I didn't think, I just saw his wife come out of that house and thought it was the best way to get him out of the way.”
“I'm not angry. Just saying that you did good, but just be ready for it to backfire when women get involved.”

“Oh, so I'm not a woman now am I and I don't know of these things.” Motyl returns a rare grin.

“Now that is not what I meant, I meant.. fuck, just be more careful, alright.” Ruff trying to look serious, also wears a smirk and tucks back into his knitting.

'Hells bells Motyl, I know your a woman, just wish I was younger. Bah what are you thinking man, she’s bound to get herself killed any time soon. Ruff, you can't feel for her or you will stuff up and die too.'

Another man approaches the stall and begins to look over Ruff's work. He is out of place in the Swadalia village. His clean, decorated toga, the fine jewels he wares and the sprig of mint leaf bound into his hair indicates he is a citizen of the Reemasa Republic. Around him stands six well armed and well armoured Republic Guards. Their large round shields embossed with what Ruff can only guess is the man's provincial insignia, iron swords three hand spans long and their traditional thickened leather armour inlaid with iron studs.

Ruff looks past the man and spies Swadalia militia and men edging behind the group, angered, with hands on hilts or holding tools-come-weapons, memories of a war that ended two summers ago still fresh in their minds. Their leather armour paled to the likes of the Republic's or the Hellenics, thin and no better than fir skins. There copper swords and tools stood no chance against blades of Iron, and their shields were woven sticks, against Republic planks of harden dasher wood.

Ruff steals a glance to Motyl and sees the face of a terrified slave. 'Stay calm you stupid bitch, they are not here for you, just for me. Never thought the bastards would catch up to me so soon after the war.'

The man speaks in his native tongue of Rubic, Ruff gestures that he dose not understand the tongue. The man tries Iconic of the Hellenics, again Ruff raises his hands in a puzzled gesture. The man sighs and then speaks in broken Norsch, the language of the Swadalians and Dolaski. Each of the words sounding like the man just bit into rotten meat and had to chew it slowly.

“You illegal you are, under arrest, come me with you!”

Ruff raises an eye brow “What the fuck. What do you mean I'm illegal? And no you can't come with me.”

The man groans and attempts again at the right words with irritation. “You wanted, bad things done, you go jail!”

Gaggle of protest behind as militia and men move forward, four of the Republic guards react in drilled precision and make a shield wall, swords drawn at the ready. Motyl gives a small whimpering cry and backs to a near wall.

“Daughter, shut up and be still!” Snaps Ruff, then he turns his attention back to the man. “You want my sorry arse, then come and get it, you whore of a Mitsrajim priest.” Ruff pulls out his dagger, a brass piece of weaponry but Ruff knows it would fair better than his copper sword against the Republic guards.

The man shouts orders to one of the guards beside him, the guard pulls an iron dart from a pouch on his back and aims it at Motyl. Ruff's heart sinks, the thing he feared the most was now being used against him, her. He could let the dart fly, she was after all a slave and a weakness to him, but she was young beautiful and had potential and, he hated to admit it, he was starting to like her. “NO! I give, I give.”

The words bit deep in Ruff, never is he to be captured alive, that was the guilds creed, never alive. He threw his blade to the ground and held his hands out in front of him. The man barked more orders and now the two guards moved towards Ruff and Motyl, handling them roughly. Whisper crying, quivering, blurting out words in Rubic.

'Shit, never thought, she must have been a slave once to a Reemasan, no wonder she was petrified of him when he approached'

Swadalian Militia and men rushed to their aid, only to be cut down by the four guards acting as a shield wall.

“Stop! Take I prisoner Him, die or hand stay.” shouted the man in harsh Norsch

The rest of the villagers held their place or rushed to the aid of the injured. Ruff and Motyl are frog marched by the guards, the man following and the other four guards protecting their rear as they leave the village.

---

They have been marching for an hour before the man orders everyone to stop.
Ruff and Motyl is brought before the man and he pulls Ruff's Knife from his belt. The man attempts to verse in Norsch.

“apologies I, diversion needed.”

Ruff waves the man to stop and he himself starts to talk in Icon.

“Your Norsch is shit, it will get you killed the way you use it.”

“I thought you said you did not understand Icon.” grumbles the man.

“No, I just shrugged my shoulders, you are the one who thought I could not understand.”

“Anyway I do apologise for the ruse, I had been informed by my sources that you are marked by a previous contact and I needed to get to you first.”

“That is part and parcel of my line of business, some one is always trying to kill the assassin.”

“Well I need you alive to do a job for me, your guild said I was to meet you in the village, and so was another hired assassin.” The man hands back Ruff his dagger. “Nice blade, did you serve in the Hellenic Phallaxies?”

“No, it was my grand father's”

The man nods and looks straight at Motyl who is still shaken by the whole ordeal. “Your Daughter seems to know Rubic quite well, why don't you use it?”

“She is my slave not my daughter, I called her so, so as not to get her rapped by your men, seeing as they refrain from rapping a man's daughters or wives. And I can't get the hang of your Rubic like the other tongues, it's shit, just like your Norsch”

“Please give us Reemasans more credit than that, we are not barbarians like you Swadalians, we do not rape.”

“I'm not Swadalian. Lets just drop this and get to business, who do I kill, how do you want it done or when do you want it done by?”

The man takes a political tone. “I need you to assassinate council member Poltimus Gregori, his wife, his sons and daughters and his mistress. I want it sent as a clear message to other council members that no-one, and I mean no one challenges me to the position for Chancellor of the Remus Republic.”
Ruff peers at the man and questions him. “That's all well and good, but if I remember rightly, I am number one on your Republic enemy list, so if I step one foot into Republican domain, my arse is going to net someone three thousand shiny new Lorics.”

“Your risk will be minimal, Gregori and his entourage will be arriving in the Dolaski town of Portswade in the next three days. A satellite town too far and too obscure from proper Reemasan authority. He is there for seventeen days, brokering a secret treaty with the Feudal, which, I would rather did not happen.”

Ruff strokes his stubbled chin with thought.

“For this, not only will you receive your customary service fee, but your face will inexplicably disappear from our posters, records and minds.” The man raises his eye brows as if this is a great deal that Ruff could not refuse.

“Seeing you put it that way, Gregori is already dead, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Ruff and the Republican are about to shake hands when a guard gives a gargling yell and falls to the ground. A stray arrow whizzes past Ruff's ear, while two guards reactively shield the man from another. Ruff dives for cover behind a log, he raises his head and peers in the direction of the oncoming arrows. There in the tree line are seven of the Swadalian militia, some armed townsmen and Bart the stall owner.

Bart is barking orders to the group and looking straight at Ruff with a toothless grin. Around his neck dangles the medallion of a rival assassins guild

'Fuck! Bart the dimwit is the other assassin. Motyl pulled him from his target, me. FUCK!’

Ruff, frantic, looks around between bursts of arrows to see if Motyl lies dead with the downed guard. She is not there and he blows out a bated breath. The guard was the only unlucky one with a stray arrow somehow finding it's way between his helm and armour to strike him through the neck and spine. The rest of the guards are in a circled formation around their charge, arrows bouncing harmlessly off their shields.

Bart has the Militia busy with arrows raining down on the Republican guards. He yells to the townsmen.

“He is a Remussan pig, he is a spy and is giving the bastards our secrets. Get down there and kill him!”

Three bolt straight for Ruff while the other seven hesitate, realising that they are only men with tools, facing against trained Republic guards with deadly swords. Bart starts shoving them to go. “Go you stupid fools, there is nineteen of us and one of him, just kill him and bring his slut to me! GO!”

Ruff springs up from behind his log barrier, his dagger already in flight towards one of the first three to challenge him. His sword swings from its scabbard, parring a hoe before he spins to lop the second man's head off, the third is borked by the sudden death of his two comrades, giving Ruff room to dodge the fools pitchfork and driving his blade into the man's side.

Ruff catches his breath and readies for the next wave of seven townsmen, all now enraged at the fall of the first three. A tide beating down on him. From his left a dagger clumsily flies through the air and falls short of it's intended victim, it's pommel hitting the man in the shin, making him hop rather than run.

Ruff glances at the source of the daggers path, there, Motyl standing beside a tree, her face anguished with failure as she looks to him, Ruff eyes her with disappointment. “Now what the fuck are you going to fight with?!” he shout back at her. He returns his anger to the seven ragging fools beating a path to him. “COME AND GET SOME, CUNTS!”

A dart nails one in the chest, another is truck in the gut, each with a sickening thud. The remaining five slow with bewilderment as the two darted men fall. A third and forth are thrown to the ground, accompanied by a small cracking sound to their temples. A sound Ruff has become recently familiar with.

'Rabbit assassin strikes again!'

The remaining three skid to a halt, wanting to retreat but death falls them all too quickly, as two more darts and a stone end their lives.

Ruff rounds his attention now onto Bart and the seven militia. “Come get your hands dirty, you pathetic wimps!”

“You lot take care of the Republic pigs, I will sort these two out.”

The militia draw their swords and rush towards the guards while Bart strolls towards Ruff. Pulling a curved copper dagger from his back belt, Bart starts to cackle menacingly, licking his lips as he approaches.

“Motyl, get ready, there is another around. Kanaanite Hashashins always work in pairs!”

“I see them!” yells Motyl before she rushes into the brush.

“wait!”

“Your little bitch is an eager thing to die, no weapon and no skill, my partner will see to her soon enough.”

Ruff's anger starts to quicken as Bart closes in, his thin frame hides the fact that the man is quick and strong, as, a few paces away Bart jumps at Ruff, slashing with tactical precision to find an opening. Ruff is smooth and steady to block the moves and formulate his own strategies of attack. Bart continues to spin and gyrate, his curved dagger missing opportunities as Ruff counters each one just in time.

---

Motyl scuttles through the brush with ease, her effort to keep it low and quiet rewarded with the second assassin searching wildly for her else where. The curve copper blade held ready in the leather clad assassin’s hand, waiting to find its mark.

Motyl feels for a few small pebbles and is welcomed with two. She quickly snaps the first at the assassin, it hits their hand with a crack, sending the blade flying and the assassin yelping in pain.

She sprints from her hide, the second stone ready to find the assassins forehead. The assassin spins around to the sound and reviles that it is Bart’s wife, Motyl is caught off by the revelation that she hesitates on the second pebble, it flies but the woman dodges it, only scraping her skin as it passes by.

The assassin flips clear of her and sizes her up. “Ah, the little slut, my Aleif lost himself in your charms, but I take my knife and cut your pretty face, cut it from your skull”.

“I thought you man’s name was Bart? That is what you shouted.”

“Stupid child, you think we use real names, One sound of Mitsrajim names would have us killed on the spot, now no more talk, now you die little slut!”

The woman spits to the side then bursts into a sprint towards her, Motyl dodged the woman’s fist and something gleams between her clenched fingers. It is a small blade, the length of a thumb. Fear fills Motyl but she can not let herself be over whelmed by it or she will die. Pain in her head also starts to shoot up from nowhere.

‘oh no, not now, I must be too far from Ruff, aagh it hurts, must get back to him!’

She blocks a stab to her temple and a back kick to her stomach. Another block and then Motyl fists the woman in the face, knocking her back momentarily. The woman closes with a spin kick that Motyl grabs mid air and tosses the woman aside. She sprints towards Ruff only to hear the whizz of something coming for the back of her head. She dives to one side of a tree, hearing a small thud. She looks around at the small thumb size blade vibrate in the bark of the tree.

“You are quick little slut! That was a sure shot. Never mind I finish you soon, then Aleif and I kill your father.”

The woman ran at Motyl with all her might, just like Ruff it was fast to others but to her it was slow, like a walk, she could see everything happening as if time was almost on the point of stopping. She reach for a branch nearby and swung it hard. That moment Motyl observed the woman’s face go limp with shock as the branch smashes into her ribs. She hears two snaps and the woman lifts off the ground and flies sideways into a brush like a cloth doll.

Without hesitation Motyl spins around and attempts to run again, a wave of pain in her head cripples her and she stumbles. Before she can recover the assassin jumps on her back, knocking her to the ground. They struggle, scratching and biting, both trying to get the upper hand, until the woman rips away her hood.

The pain inside give away to a flood of anger, the woman ceases for a moment then her eyes go wide at Motyl’s deformity, the hood clutched firmly in her hand. Without hesitation Motyl claws the ground and finds a stone the size of a small pumpkin. She swings it up hard against the woman’s shoulder, her anger deafening her to the sound of bone braking, as the woman is propelled several feet away. She jumps up in rage and stomps after the woman, the pain in her head hindering her little.

The woman struggles to rise up on one arm her other completely shattered, she sees Motyl marching towards her, red with rage. It is the first time in her 38 summers that she is afraid, truly, deeply afraid. She managed to just get to a kneeling stance before Motyl swings an underarm, smashing the woman’s jaw and throwing her back through the air another twenty feet.

“YOU BITCH, GIVE ME BACK MY HOOD!”

---

Cries of death start to fill the air, Ruff and Bart both steal a chance to watch the Militia fall one by one as they dash themselves upon Republic swords.

“Bad choice of backup, my friend. They had no chance against Republic guards.”

“No, they were the right choice, they were only for a distraction”. Grins the toothless Bart before he re-engage his assault on Ruff.

Ruff and Bart continue their dance, blades clashing, men dodging, opportunities found, then lost again in the blink of an eye. It was apparent to both that they were fighting the cream of their respective guild's crop. Both, with words unspoken, stopped to take a breath and size up the skill of the man that stood across from themselves. Another battle could be hear in the trees, two women going at it, but theirs sounded more one sided, with one of them crying more in pain than a yell of anger.

“It sounds like my partner is playing a little rough with your slut, Don't worry, she will tire of her and will slit her throat soon enough.”

“I pray that your quarrel is no longer with me.” interjects the Remussan man.

Bart dose not take his eyes of Ruff when he answers. “There is none, I only needed the Militia to stop your men from interfering, you are free to go.”

Then Remussan directs his next question to Ruff. “And I pray that if you survive this, you will proceed to do your task.”

“I will.” nods Ruff, also not letting his eyes stray.

“Only if you survive.” heckles Bart.

With that the Remussan and his guards beat a hasty retreat from the battle site, leaving Bart and Ruff slowly circling each other, female cries of battle echoing from the woods.

Ruff gives a quick side glances to the woods 'Hang in there girl, I'll be there soon.' is his last thought before he takes the intuitive and attacks Bart, putting him into defence.

They continue for some time, neither finding the right opportunity to take down the other. Their attention is taken a little when from their peripheral they see a figure come flying out of the trees, landing with a thud and rolling to a stop.

Neither men have looked proper, as each would take advantage of the distraction, but Bart grins with confidence. “your slut is finished and you, my friend, will be joining her very soon.”.

Then a charging yell pierces Bart's moment of gloating glory. His face takes on confusion as the voice is not of his partner, but Motyl. Bart and Ruff spare a moment to watch as she comes charging out of the brush at the other woman. Bart’s partner is dressed in the traditional Hashashins armour but it is torn bloodied and dirty. She stands haggardly but is still a good foot and a half taller than Motyl, a hoody, not a knife clutched in her hands. Motyl, uncapped and hair flitting like strawberry blond fire, is also batted and bloodied but still charges at her with lightning speed, a rock, her only weapon.

The woman holds out her one good hand in a vain hope of stopping her but Motyl sweeps the hand aside and heaves the rock into the stomach of the woman, lifting her off her feet and throwing her back. Bart's eyes pop out of his head, having never seen such a thing. The woman lands on the ground, and as she lifts herself up from the ground to her knees. She looks to Bart, the fear in her eyes show that she knows that her last word will be her final breath as Motyl marches towards her. The woman reaches out to Bart, just as Motyl lifts up the rock for the killing blow, and calls.

“Aleif!”

Motyl brings the rock down in a club like fashion, decapitating the woman's head from her body in a bloody plume. Her body hitting the ground one final time with a lifeless thud.

Bart goes pale before he absently speaks her name. “Biba.”

Ruff takes his chance and jumps forward, piercing Bart through the heart. He drops his dagger and clings to Ruff, staring at his dead partner then to Motyl, then straight into Ruffs eyes.

“My Biba, she took my Biba.”

Ruff yanks out his blade, Bart's eyes roll and his head lulls back before he too falls to the ground into a lifeless pile.

Motyl walks over to Ruff, Placing her hoody back upon her head and looks down at the body of Bart, not saying a word.

Ruff looks over his shoulder back at where the body of the woman lays then to Motyl, still a little red with anger as she tightens a knot, he entertains a though of what might have happen then speaks “You did good, despite the fact you threw away your only best weapon. Next time, think before you act. Now lets head back and get the rest of our gear.”

Without any further words, they both walk back towards the village.