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Behind Those Eyes	By : CanPsycho337 Category: G through L Series > Gor Views: 9735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gor and I make no profit from this story.

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The Men In Black

A cool breeze blew in through the window causing the candlelight to flicker in the chamber of Daden Arun. It was well past midnight and the blond-haired assassin found it difficult to sleep.

Something on the air bothered him.

“Ha-Sorl,” He said softly while looking out onto the fire lit silhouettes of the great towers that made up the city of Ko-ro-ba. It was said that perhaps with the exception of the great city of Ar, Ko-ro-ba looked the most beautiful at night. It was one of a dozen reasons why Daden loved this place and had made his home here after years of travelling.

From behind him, in the shadows, a man in a pitch-black tunic seemed to materialize from nothing. As the art of the Warrior is ferocity and strength, Daden mused, the art of the Assassin was silence and a quick hand.

“You were always difficult to fool, Daden-Arun.” The man said, his voice unnaturally hoarse. Looking down at the ground all the was visible was his black hair, which was tied into a feral looking top knot and the emblem of the black dagger painted on his forehead.

“I see you’ve taken payment.”

Black daggers were affixed to the foreheads of Assassins who had received money to kill a specific target. When they allowed themselves to be visible, such a mark had its uses. Men of all castes instantly became uneasy when they saw it, each wondering if perhaps they had done something to warrant such a man to come for them. As a result, many things became easier. Lodgings, food and drink were often given without charge. As well, the knowledge that an assassin was in a city could goad that man’s target into making a mistake.

“I have taken payment.” The man confirmed.

Daden reached slowly for the hilt of his sword.

------

Sariah sat on the floor across from her mother. The two women had seen little of each other since the girl’s return that morning. They spoke on a variety of topics including household gossip and the happenings within Ko-ro-ba and Thentis.

The golden haired Myranda looked upon her daughter with concern. She had heard rumours of why the girl had been sent to Thentis, but she knew nothing definite. That Sariah wouldn’t speak of it only made her worry deepen.
“You gave Stolas quite a thrashing.” The older woman said with a smile that was equal parts pride and admonishment. “It isn’t wise for a slave to attack a free man. He could have killed you and nobody would have cocked an eyebrow.”

Sariah shrugged her bare shoulders. She was once again dressed in the sleeveless dress that all of the household slaves wore, a far cry from the luxurious robes she had worn only hours earlier.

“He wouldn’t kill me.” She replied firmly. “Master would have been displeased, and my feeling is that those who displease him have a very short lifespan.”

Myranda’s smile turned to a slight frown as she heard the edge in her daughter’s voice. Within the course of only a few weeks the girl had changed. There was no longer the same delicacy about her. She seemed closed off, even cold at times. The only word to describe it was hard.

“Trust me daughter,” Myranda cautioned. “I have been a slave before and Daden is not like any master I have ever had. He allows more leniency than I have ever seen, but even he must have his limits. I plead with you not to push him too far.”

The girl looked at her for a long moment before nodding. “You are right, mother. I was foolish. Any other master would have had me beaten or worse for doing what I did.”

Both of the women’s attention was drawn outside, as there were the sounds of footsteps running down the hallway accompanied with urgent voices. Their door was still securely locked and they dared not try to open it, but their curiosity was piqued.

“Strange,” Myranda said, running a finger idly through her golden hair. “The guards only walk the walls once an hour, and they are never this loud.”

Sariah focused her azure gaze on the doorway and tilted her head. In the distance there were sounds of metal clinking against metal, as if coins were being dropped on a table in another room. “Mother, what is that sound?”

Before the older woman could answer, the solid wooden door burst inward and through it came Nox and Stolas. Each wore pitch-black tunics and had their swords drawn. In the dim candlelight, Sariah noticed a thick viscous liquid dripping from each of the points.

It was blood.

“What is happening?” Myranda began to ask but was interrupted.

“Silence woman.” Nox commanded and both of them fell silent. The pale skinned man focused his crimson gaze around the room. With the door opened, Sariah could tell that the sounds she hard heard were in fact swords meeting swords.

“Stolas,” Nox said, motioning to the unremarkable man who, without any further orders, produced a light wooden bow and quiver, which he handed to Myranda.

“I am told you know how to use this,” Nox continued. “Assassins have attacked this tower and we cannot spare anyone to protect you. The man gestured to his companion and again Stolas produced something, a curved dagger, which he handed to Sariah.

“Corlas told us of your handiwork.” He said with the barest amount of humour. Sariah reversed the grip on it and nodded, her own eyes scanning the shadows instinctively. Nox waved Stolas back out the door and the two continued down the hallway toward the sound of fighting leaving the two women were alone.

Stepping out of the room, Myranda knocked an arrow and pulled back the drawstring. Behind her, Sariah stepped quietly her blade poised for combat. The shadows shifted and danced in the candlelight as they slowly made their way down the hall, following the direction the two men had taken only moments earlier.

Occasionally they could hear the muffled sounds of steel meeting steel, but Sariah found it odd that she heard no screams.

“Assassins do not scream.” Myranda murmured back to her daughter, as if sensing her thoughts. “They are trained to die silently in the hopes that they will not betray the position of any of their fellows.”

Briefly, Sariah wondered how anyone could be trained to die in any particular way, but the evidence all around her was too much to ignore. Somehow the Caste of Assassins managed to master even the art of dying.

As they rounded a corner, Sariah thought she saw movement. She was about to speak when her mother let loose and arrow and quickly knocked and let fly a second. From the shadows to black clad figures, their faces covered with head wraps, fell to the ground with arrows protruding from their chests. Hunting in the forests of the North tested a person’s vision, and amongst the Panther Girls, Myranda was one of the best.

Sariah was about to congratulate her mother when an something took her in an iron grip and wrenched her around. From the darkness a large man, dressed as the others, stood before with his sword raised.

Knowing she had only seconds to get away, the raven-haired girl lashed out with her dagger, slicing the man’s wrist all the way to the bone. He reeled back in pain, but only a slight gasp escaped his lips. He lunged forward and she jumped back just as an arrow whizzed past her ear and knocked the man to the ground.

Sariah turned to face her mother and paled as she saw another hand reach out for the blond-haired woman. Dashing forward, the young girl leapt through the air and pounced on her mother’s assailant.
Her weight was not enough to bring her opponent to the ground, but it was enough to make him stumble. Reaching how she clamped her hand on the man’s sword arm and dug her nails into his flesh. She let out a howl of pain as he slammed a fist into her midsection.

Holding on for dear life, the girl thrust her dagger toward the man again and again. More often than not the blade was deflected by their struggle but she desperately continued her attack. From behind she heard her mother moan and caught a quick glimpse of the blond woman lying on the floor with blood running from her head.

With a growl she thrust his knife once more at her attacker and felt a surge of triumph when it made purchase. The hilt of the weapon was ripped from her hand as the man stumbled forward and proceeded to collapse to the ground.

Sariah paid him no heed as she ran to her mother and knelt beside her. “M-mother?” She stammered, tears threatening to take her. A moment later Myranda moaned again and sat up slowly.

“We have to get back to the room,” The older woman said in a daze.

The girl helped her mother to her feet and had pair had just taken a step back in the direction they’d come when a door behind them flew open. A man in a black tunic rushed toward them in a mad dash.

Myranda tried to bring an arrow to her bow, but her movements were sluggish from the blow to her head. Sariah knew she had nothing to fight with, but braced herself to meet his charge. The man was just about on them when he jerked upright and fell face down to the stone floor, a small throwing knife protruding from the back of his head.

Looking up, Sariah watched as Daden strode into the hallway, clad only in his loincloth. In one hand he held a sword, slick with blood and in the other a knife identical to the one that had killed their attacker.

His movements were fluid like water as he engaged two more men who seemed to materialize from nowhere. With what looked like ease, he parried a blow from one of the men and in return drove his knife into the assassin’s chest.

Before the attacker had even hit the ground, the blond haired man ducked underneath the second man’s slash and brought his blade across the man’s stomach effectively gutting him.

“You should not have left the room,” Daden said firmly as he crossed the distance between himself and the women.

“Master Nox brought us weapons,” Myranda said weakly.

“We wanted to help you, Master.” Sariah added.

Looking around, Daden focused his green eyes on the three other bodies that littered the ground in addition to the one’s he had killed. He nodded in firm approval.

“It seems you know how to use them,” He replied. Thinking for a moment he then motioned for them to follow. Handing one of the knives he’d retrieved from his kill to Sariah he started forward. “We have to get to the main hall, by now Nox and Stolas should have cleared it and we will be able to rally the men.”

The three moved rapidly through the winding corridors of Daden’s tower. Only twice did they come into contact with the assassins and each time Daden dispatched them before Myranda could even raise her bow.

Upon entering the hall, they were greeted by the sight of Nox and Stolas, along with five other men engaged in a pitched battle. Stolas fought with a ferocity that seemed odd coming from such an average looking man. He was strong and fast, preferring to batter an opponent down and then cleave whatever he could from his enemy. While Nox, on the other hand, was graceful and fluid, perhaps even more so than Daden. He danced with his enemies, often never even touching swords with them until he made his strike.

The other men fought with a variety of weapons. One had a spear and another, a tall man with long blond hair and an equally long beard that the women immediately recognized him as being from Tovaldsland., fought with a massive axe which he used with devastating efficiency.

Daden jumped into the fray, cutting a swath through the sea of black while the women moved to a corner and Myranda, having recovered sufficiently from her wound, let fly a seemingly endless stream of arrows, felling five by herself.

Though outnumbered and off balance, the men of Daden Arun quickly turned the battle in their favour. Within minutes the assassins began to retreat, melting into the darkness.

Daden held his men back, keeping them from following. “We’ve shed enough blood this night.” He said through hard breaths.

Moments later, three more men clad in grey tunics rushed in to join them. They were bloodied but standing. Turning to Nox, Daden spoke quietly. “How many did we lose?”

“Seven men and four slaves.” The man replied vacantly, not showing the effects of combat in the least. “I personally counted at least fifty attackers, of which I can confirm that thirty-two are dead though there are possibly more.”

Daden nodded and turned back to face the women. “You’ve both done well.” He told them, smiling warmly. Sariah bowed her head and waited for her mother to reply for the both of them.

When the reply didn’t come, she looked up and watched in horror as her mother slumped to the floor. Her eyes rolled up in her heard and she began to twitch. Sariah screamed as she fell to her knees, cradling the blond-haired woman in her arms. She vaguely remembered hearing Daden call for a physician but it was too late. A shallow breath rattled from Myranda’s lips and then she was gone.
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Behind Those Eyes