Deception's Blade - Chapter Five (Interval)

Ari and her gang are back! This is a super short chapter and, to be honest, I wrote it just for fun. If anything I'm using it as a break from the rest of the story. But still, it's nice to know what those guys are up to (I think right now, Ari's my favorite character)! Don't forget about Chapters One, Two, Three, and Four, and as always I appreciate your feedback!

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"Ari? Ari!"

Aryana woke with a start and instinctively drew her dagger.

"Whoa!" the voice exclaimed, and as Aryana blinked her eyes and allowed her vision to adjust in the darkness, she glimpsed the retreating figure of a man. Holding his hands up in protest, the familiar face grinned. "It's just me."

"Talon?" she asked, sheathing her blade and pulling herself to her feet. Her head was still groggy from sleep and her mind disoriented as she scanned her surroundings. It had been mid-afternoon when Flex had taken over her watch, but now the forest where they had made camp was pitch black; a glance to the sky revealed a blanket of dark clouds shielding the full moon from view.

How long was I out?

She focused her attention back on Talon. "What's going on?"

"Night is upon us." The Badalan shrugged and gestured to his left. "It's time."

Aryana looked in the direction where he had pointed.

On the other side of the small encampment, Gereth and Flex were busy packing away their supplies. Snow had been dumped on the fire pit to douse the flames and near the base of a large tree a hole had been dug into the ground. She watched as Gereth rolled up their bedding and placed them in the hollow, along with their metal pots and camping tools. Once the area had been cleared the young Ghostwalker covered the cache and carved a symbol into the trunk of the tree; a map for them to recover their belongings later on, should they return.

"And the supplies for our mission?" Aryana asked, glancing back at Talon. "Have they been prepared?"

Talon snorted and shook his head. "Don't worry yourself, Ari," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder as he motioned for Flex and Gereth to approach. "Everything has already been done. We await your orders now."

With a nod, Aryana drew in a sharp breath and turned to address her group.

"Getting in is the easy part. Our employer has seen to that," she said as she accepted a wooden bowl from Flex. It was warm to the touch, its depths filled with black ink from the melted berries Talon had gathered. Dipping her fingers inside, she raised the paint to her face and began drawing the symbols that Talon had shown her across her cheeks.

"When we enter the keep we'll be outnumbered," Talon continued for her, "so we have to be quick and we have to strike hard. But if we succeed, the spoils are well worth the sin."

"We'll be entering through an underground passage to the dungeon," Aryana said as she drew thick lines on Talon's face with the black ink. "It's sealed from the inside, so the guards shouldn't be expecting us. If we're lucky, there'll be a few prisoners that we can recruit and use to create a diversion."

"And if we're caught?" Gereth interjected as Aryana handed him the bowl. "What then?"

"Talon will hand out the vials of nightbloom once we're inside," she replied, her tone as cold as the winter air. She had little patience for a graduate who asked too many questions about his own profession, especially before a risky job. "Your training would have prepared you for this." She glanced squarely at Gereth, hoping to drive her point home. "A Ghostwalker is never taken alive."

Once the paint had been passed around and their faces masked by Badala war emblems, Talon knelt down and picked up chunks of brown fur from the ground.

"The bull that Flex killed last night should help sell the facade," he explained as he slapped the skin into the crevices of Aryana's leather armor. Next to them, Gereth and Flex tucked fur into their own armor.

"Remind me again why we're dressing as barbarians?" Flex asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he slipped a piece of cold flesh around his neck. As an afterthought, he shot a quick glance at Talon. "No offense."

"None taken," the Badalan replied with an indifferent shrug.

"We aren't paid to ask questions, Flex," Aryana said, but even she could not deny the stench of dead flesh as Talon applied a thin strand to the cuff of her glove. "Our client was clear in their instruction. They want it to look like a Badalan attack."

Gereth tucked the last strands of fur between his armor and sighed. "Won't this start a war, Ari?" he asked, nodding past the tree line to the distant stone walls on the other side of the frozen field. "This is the home of a Noble we're attacking. How did Headmaster Roren even approve of this mission?"

As with any paid job, requests were submitted to the headmaster of Hellfire for his review. If he deemed it something worthwhile, Roren would sign it with his seal and select the best Hunter among the graduates to complete the task. Unlike the headmasters from rival academies, Roren usually kept his Hunters out of political affairs—the cost was often too great and the consequences too severe if one were careless enough to make any mistakes. But after reading the request herself, Aryana understood why he had approved.

And if they succeeded, Roren had personally guaranteed to name her as his successor.

"With the share you'll get after we complete this job," she said, drawing Gereth's attention, "you can retire from this life and question your superiors no more."

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Gereth gave a brief nod.

"Are we done here?" Flex asked, his words cutting through the still air as he unsheathed his sword to inspect the blade. "'Cause if so, I'd really like to earn my pay tonight."

Aryana glanced around at her group, mentally weighing their chances of success before her gaze rested on Talon.

Returning her stare, the Badalan shrugged. "Nothing's certain in our line of work, Ari," he said, answering her unspoken question with a wink as he pulled out the silver mouth guard from his satchel. "But if we're to die tonight, let us die as legends."

"They'll sing tales of our valor back at Hellfire, old friend," Aryana replied with a grin.

She waited until he had secured the mouth guard around his face before turning to Flex and Gereth. "Come on boys," she said, her blood pumping, and for a moment she wondered if the Badala felt the same anticipation she was feeling now when the Thirst called out to them.

She spared a glance skyward and sent a silent prayer to the stars above. Then, drawing her dagger, Aryana pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and set out. "Let's make history."