SHORT STORY - Lena and the Band of Assassins - Part 07

Lena woke up - soar - and smiled. If only for a moment, she smiled. The realization of the peril she was in hit her like a stone brick. Too soon…

She sat up, listening to the bird’s chirping – eyes closed – trying to build an illusion that everything was back to normal. That this was like any other morning and the nightmare of the past several days was just that, a nightmare. It’s not the same. It could never be the same.

It was the smell, or more accurately the lack of it, that destroyed the walls of her illusion. aunt Falice’s bakery would be working at maximum capacity by this time. That she could not smell the pastries was the biggest warning sign that something had changed. aunt Falice. Lena’s gut clenched. Last night she had accepted that everyone she had known was gone. That didn’t stop her from almost crying, her jaw and fists clenched.

Three days.

Right.

She got up. Side still pinching her whenever she took a breath, although the pain was definitely lesser than before, if only just slightly. Lena applied the ointment the devil gave her. It was working. For some reason those damned bastards had given her legitimate medicine. Her balcony doors were closed, she opened one and went outside.

The afternoon had almost passed. The smell of the sea almost made Lena smile again, but this wasn’t her island. No sound of children playing, or people seeing to their labor duties. She could see black clouds of smoke in the distance, something she had only heard about in her mother’s stories. The street in front of the Estate was empty, and there were no sailors unloading crates or docking fishing boats.

It was all baron. It seemed to Lena that the island had died the moment its Mistress had. She thought it poetic, albeit in a morbid way.

Her mother was this island.

Tears started to appear but she quickly brushed them off, teeth grinding. None of that now. I need to be strong. For mother. For the island. Something inside Lena’s soul kept reminding her that her old life was over and done with. She didn’t know what to call this new feeling, but it forced Lena to push down the pain, push down the dread; and focus at the task at hand.

Sniffling, she turned. Her painting supplies were still out here, her stand untouched. Just as a plan started to form in her head, the door to the room opened.

The short lean bastard was the one that entered. He stood at the doorway, waiting. Lena entered back into her room and closed the balcony door, trying to seem as small as possible. She went to the center of the room and fell on both knees facing him, her body protesting the motion.

“Please let me go, sir.” She said, lips wobbling. “You have what you wanted. The island is well and truly yours. What use am I to you now? Mercy, please.” She bowed her head.

“Get up, princess.” The man said. “Or should I say queen?”

She looked up, almost dropping her facade. “I am no queen.”

“Follow me.” He said nonchalantly, turning his back to her. “Well?”

She got up and followed. He was so disinterested with her. This was the smallest scoundrel out of the four, and he was still a head taller than Lena. The magnitude of what she was trying to do almost made her slip on the steps as they were going down. She couldn’t do this. These men were trained killers. They took over an island all by themselves – granted, a peaceful island with no military force – but they were ruthless nonetheless.

The man led Lena towards one of the hallways next to the parlor. Peaking inside it, Lena noticed that the chairs, coaches and tables had been removed. How strange. The empty house however, brought a different question to mind.

“Are all my servants,” Lena asked, lips trembling. “dead?”

“Yes.” The man said, not looking at her. “Everyone in the monarch’s service must be culled in order for a conquest to succeed.”

Why wasn’t she dead then? Why was everyone else dead.

Dead! Dead! Dead!

Was Lena really the only person left on the island?

Her fists clenched unwillingly.

Upon the realization of her unwanted reaction, she exhaled, loosening her knuckles.

Her hands started to shake as they entered the dining room. “Sit.” The killer said without even giving Lena a glance. Lena noticed that the pile of items she saw last night was gone from the corner. The killer opened one of the dining room doors which led to a study area. “Inside. Come on, you are not that hurt. Your niece survived far worse.”

Niece? Lena started as aunt Falice entered the dining room. She was alive. Her hair was torn in places, her face was bloody and bruised, her posture was slumped and her body was trembling. But, by everything that was beautiful in the world, she was alive!

aunt Falice took a step towards Lena, arms outstretched, but received a slap to the back of the head. “Sit.” The man said. He almost sounded bored. The trembling woman did just that, placing a limp hand on the table, eyes fixated on Lena.

Lena took the seat opposite her. The man grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill and an ink pot from a nearby drawer, then he took the seat at the head of the table near the two tortured women. Her aunt was still glaring at Lena, expression pleading. The man rolled out the parchment and placed the quill over it.

“You are to sign this writ.” The bastard said, pointing. “Or, she will suffer a fate worse than death.”

“Lena please,” her aunt said, voice cracking. “Do it.”

Lena started to panic, her hands starting to sweat. This was happening too fast. It shouldn’t happen this fast. She thought she had three days to sign that parchment, she barely had time to think of what to do –

Her aunt slammed her hand on the table, eyes tearing up as she stared at Lena. “Do it…” She said, meekly.

Lena thought her aunt Falice’s stare at that moment could pierce stone. How much had her aunt suffered, if she was pleading like this to make it stop? Her aunt’s fingers started to scratch the table. She again looked up at the woman who had lost –

Suddenly, a distant memory started flooding back. A game. No, it was more of a code. Lena had almost forgotten about it entirely - but her aunt apparently still remembered. Bless the woman she remembered.

Lena looked her aunt straight in the eyes as she said a defiant, “No.”

The man reached over the table and punched Lena’s face, sending one of her lower front teeth to the floorboards. She thumped like a heavy bag next to it, face and sides burning with pain. “Try again.” He said, tone indifferent.

Lena looked up and gave her aunt a slight nod, signaling that the game had started. She slowly got back up. Sat down. And placed her own hand on the table. “Why should I?” She asked her aunt.

“I thought I made myself clear,” the man said, sighing.

Of course he didn’t know that Lena and her aunt were now talking with each other, and not at him. Keep eye contact and a hand on a table, or the ground, if what you’re saying actually means the opposite. Her aunt had taught her once, long ago.

“You surely understand, my d-darling.” Her aunt said, tears starting to fall on her hand. “You have to stay on this island. You must protect its people.”

No aunt. I can’t leave this island. And I can’t forget its people. Lena thought defiantly. What didn’t she understand though?

“I understand.” Lena said, hand still on table. The foreign scum dipped the quill in ink and moved the parchment in front of her.

“Yes,” her aunt said, hand still not moving. “You understand that you must sign. There is no other way.”

“I understand.” Lena said, her hand turning into a fist on the table.

Her aunt removed her hand. “You must!” She said. “We will find a way!”

“Quiet.” The scum said. Tone sounding annoyed. “Are you going to sign or not?”

Lena removed her hand. “No.”

The man’s eyes shut wide open. Lena swore she could see the devil himself in those reddening eyes.

He stood up, backslapping Lena and sending her to the floor, again. He grabbed aunt Falice by her hair and dragged her up. “Perhaps a demonstration will show you how serious I am, brat.” He practically spat the last word out as he turned his back to Lena and hauling aunt Falice towards the kitchen.

Lena frantically stood up. Move. Quickly! She followed them inside the kitchen. When she got inside the man had already dragged her aunt half way to the storage room. Her mind devoid of any thought, Lena ran after them. She grabbed a large cutting knife from a table.

As the man turned to face her, she swung her knife, with both hands, hitting the devil’s spawn straight in the neck. She could feel the blow dig in his skin - barely – the monster dropped her aunt and punched Lena so hard she flew a couple feet before hitting the kitchen floor, hard.

I’m sorry mother. Lena thought, pain pulsing through her veins. I tried…

The man fell on both knees however, bloody blade in front of him. He was holding his neck with one hand, grabbing a table with the other. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a garble. He fell then, bringing the table down with him. He was still moving – crawling - towards Lena.

It wasn’t long before he ceased moving entirely.

“Merciful God of Beauty.” Her aunt swore, voice terrified. “Child – what have you done?”

“I sent the spawn back to its father,” Lena whispered, mind still blank.