Eye of the Assassin

"Move it." The iron cell door creaked open, and a tall, fat man moved in as easily as he could through the small jail door. "I said, move it!", he yelled, putting his hand on his bullwhip. A dirty young girl dressed in rags with a ragged red headband tied across her forehead. SNAP! The man wasn't joking. He had taken out his whip and hit it harshly against the cold stone floor. She looked up at him rather innocently, with a bittersweet smile.
"I see your doing well.", she said. "If only now you can drop all that you're carrying and actually FIT in the door. But I suppose you can't do that, now can you, boss man?"

She was promptly kicked

Boss man. That was her pet name for him. He was her overseer in the marble mines of Tiladesh, a desert region, famous for its particularly sturdy marble. Not that marble wasn't already sturdy, but this kind was particularly hard to cut.

"Move it, worm!" And yet she only looked back with a rueful smile, despite the bruise already forming on her arm. "Don't give me any o' yer shit! Just move!" She finally obliged. She moved off the dirt-coated floor, dusting out any of the caked up dirt in her long brown hair, her eyes glistening with intensified anger that she never showed. She would only smile back.

Her hands were bound with rusty iron shackles, as she was pushed through the cell door, the man barely squeezing through. They walked down the upper cell block, other prisoners looking at the young, 18-year old girl, already put in jail to toil for the rest of her life, yet a few smiled back if they knew her, or even cared.

She was a murderer.

She didn't look like much to be a killer, a simple yet beautiful young girl. A simple, beautiful, half elven girl without a care in the world.

Well, she had ONE care.

She didn't care if she escaped; nobody did.
She didn't care if she were released; where would she go now?
She DID care however, for something; one of the very things that put her here in the first place. Vengeance.

"Here you go, rat.", spat the overseer, the one that had kicked her earlier in her cell. He tossed at her a marble saw. Her sentence was to cut marble in the quarries for life, in the hot, blazing, sun-scorched wasteland.

"Nice to see you again.", said a small, crippled woman to her, turning into a skeleton due to malnourishment. But she had a kindly smile, and picked up the marble saw, and continued her work.

"Same here." She also took up her saw, and started on her own block. The master overseer with his crossbow was pacing through the line of workers, his steely gaze searching hungrily for a slacker. But she just continued; his aim was flawless. And as she sawed, she reflected on an incident that began her trip here in the first place.

2 years ago in a little village called Mount Arovale, situated in the cool, green mountains sat a 16 year-old in a lush green field, looking up at the sky. Her shiny, chocolate brown hair billowed in the wind, the golden sunlight reflecting in her soft, emerald eyes, and she just sat contentedly with a smile, taking in the sights.

"Rinoa, how many times have I told you that noon is our training session?", asked a tall, 37-year old man with red hair and the same emerald eyes. His ears were pointed, much like hers, and he held a gleaming sword in his left hand.

"Sorry uncle, but it was just-
"No excuses! Now just come back to the house, I have something to give you." Puzzled by her Uncle Lazerus' wishes, she followed curiously back to a small, stately house on the edge of the village, and he picked up something of the table.

"A sword?!", she asked in disbelief. "I'm not ready for a sword like this!" She grasped its gleaming handle, etched with gold markings that looked as intricate as the pathways of the wind, to see the stunning, double edged blade.

"It was a present to me, given by the elves.", he said. "Something about their kind sticking together or what-not."
"But you're only half elf!"
"And so are you. Take it. I think you have learned enough from me to know how to use it properly. Come on, get a feel for it. We'll go through the motions in the backyard." They trotted through the back of the house, going to the back, stood about 6 feet away in stances, swords pointed at each other. "Ready?", he asked.

"Yes."
"Okay, start." They began their warm ups, doing patterns and practicing their blocks and slices, dodges, and feints, until all was completed, until he asked, "Are you comfortable enough with that sword to go a round?"
"WHAT?! Against a trained swordsman of the Imperial Army?"
"I'm retired, don't take it so hard.", he said with a smirk and swish of his hand, brushing back some fiery red hair from his eyes. The youthful niece just looked back at him nervously and stammered, "O-okay. . ."

"EYAH!" The round had begun with a swift vertical slice to her head, blocked, and clashing against the girl's new weapon. She swung with a horizontal chop to the stomach, easily blocked by the red-haired uncle. Silver swishes glided through the air, sending sharp howls where they swung, and sparks where they blocked. Parry after parry, block after block, and a few grunts here and there, until Rinoah fell to her feet, tired.

"How. . .?", she gasped for breath. "Do you do it all the time?"
"I'm in shape, and apparently, you are not.", he said with a smile. "But more time with you, and you'll be fine!"
"More time with you,", she said, getting to her feet, "and I'll be dead." He helped her up to her feet, and walked to the kitchen, where dinner was made, and they sat down to the table. Her uncle wasn't the world's greatest cook. After a few sniffs and snivels, she was dismissed from the food, if you could call it that, and she took her bath, and slumped into bed, asleep before she hit the pillow. Her uncle followed to his own bedroom, and he too, fell asleep. Until it was heard.

"FIRE! FIRE!", yelled a woman from the outside. Children were crying, women were running, men were dousing the flames, and families were being split apart.

"RINOAH! WAKE UP!" He shook her furiously, until she groaned and opened her eyes. "FIRE!"
"Huh?"
"MOVE IT!"

"What?" She had woken up to reality.
"You heard me, wench! Move it!" The man with the crossbow, pointed it to her heart. She found that she had ceased working, and wiping the sweat off her brow, continued on.

"Bring the buckets over here!", she heard. She was ordered to head for safety, through the massive inferno, and sweltering heat. What had caused the fire? But being forced to run and find some breathable air, she ran for the exit of the village, it being barely visible through the smoke.

"GAHH-!" Someone had grabbed her, and held a knife to her throat.
"Give it up.", the man who had grabbed her said. But he wasn't talking to her. He was talking to a tall, red-haired man, clenching his sword in his left hand.
"RINOAH!"
"So I see you know this girl then, huh? Hand it over." Rinoah had no idea what was going on. Was this who had sent the village up in flames? Despite her fear and confusion, she elbowed the man in the stomach, and took his head on bashed it with her knee.

"Uncle? What's going on?" He stepped forward as if to run to her, but someone else was already behind him with a knife.

He was stabbed.

Stabbed a number of times. The murderer ran shortly after though, seeing Rinoah run after with her dead assailant's knife in her hand.
"Uncle!" His eyes had begun clouding over, the flames surrounding them, licking at the houses still untouched, and became consumed.
"Rinoah. . .Did I ever tell you, what happened, with your parents?", he coughed.
"Don't become delirious. You've told me.", she said with tears. His time was running short.
"Then I have told you that they were killed?"
"Yes. . . When they were being robbed. They never found me, because I was hidden by my mom."
"Exactly. . .", he whispered, the life steadily draining out of him. "Here. . . is what they've been looking for. . ." He moved over his hand, and dropped a bright green orb that looked like an ordinary piece of jewelry into her hand that was attached to a thin silver chain into her hand. "It was. . .them. They. . .killed them but. . ." He paused. "Keep it. . . They can't have it. . ."
"They?"
"Or rather. . .him. . . because, he wants to. . ." He stopped dead. His finger pointed to a figure in the flames. All she could make out of the figure, was a tall man in a blue cloak, long hair, and a straight walk. He never found it.

"Uncle?", she asked to him. Looking at the haze in his eyes, he was just like the other man. Gone.

And thus was the loss of her innocence, for she would now spend the rest of her days, searching for this man.

"AAAAAHHHH!" She was caught not working again. She was kicked aside, held down, and brutally given more lashes than she could count. Her back was covered with a few long thin scars, that were faint now, but her new ones were bright red and bleeding.

"I said GET BACK TO WORK!", snarled her overseer with a glimmer of sadistic delight in his eyes. He walked away chortling, and in anger, she took a chunk of marble she found on the ground, and judged the distance and angle between her, the wall, and the laughing lump of fat that was her overseer. She cast it onto the wall, shaking a bit of the mine, and a scream of agony was heard where laughing used to be. Another overseer down, thanks to the courtesy of a Miss Rinoah Maynada.

"Won't be seeing the likes o' you for a while. . .", said the guard to the solitary confinement chamber. She smelled strongly of urine, and her nostrils recoiled at the foul odor, but she had to get used to it. Again. She was caught before, when she lost her temper the last time with another overseer. The last one though was the shortest one that had lasted though; only 2 weeks. She had killed 3 other overseers of hers, all about lasting about 2 months, until she could stand it no more. She snapped. She found a resting place where she could sit, sighed, and returned to thinking about what put her here.

A small, cloaked figure came walking into a small town at night, carrying a crossbow in their hand. The green cloak came to their knees and the hood blanketed their face in shadow. Suddenly, it jumped with great agility to the roof of a house, outside of an inn, where the arrow lingered restlessly, waiting to be shot. They removed the hood, revealing chocolate brown hair, emerald eyes, and a small smile. This was a year after Rinoah's town had burned down, and her uncle had died. Since then, her only thought was to seek the murderers. So far, she had only learned a little, that the killer was someone who led a band of nomadic thieves, and this was by only the way they had destroyed her village. The silver chain dropped from her neck, and jingled a little, as she rested her fingers in the bow, and raised it, and aimed at the shadow in the window. This was only a side job. There weren't many jobs for women out there, and she happened to have one of the more unusual ones. She killed for hire. The man staying here was an official, and this job would pay big. HUGE. Her eyes glinted with a wild spark, and she licked her lips, aimed, and fired. Dead.

Rinoah yawned tiredly. She turned over on her side. "Stuck in here again, I see. I wonder. . ." She dug her hand under the cot she was lying on, and pulled out a candle, and a book that she had found the last time, from stealing it from a guard while he was sleeping. Reading. A favorite activity of hers. She felt around her dark chambers, looking for a thing to light it. Searching madly, her mind wandered to her last job. When she got caught.

She had followed a man to his chambers. He was a very rich man, and powerful as well. He pulled her along, eagerly, kissing in between steps, until he thrust open the door to his room of his lavish suite, the finest in the hotel. It was enormous, a display of his wealth. This job would pay BIG. And it should, too. It wasn't something she liked to do, encounter her victims, because if they were men, it would ALWAYS end up like this. Must be the elven beauty. He bade her into bed, and stood up when she didn't come.

"A problem, babe?", he asked, in a smooth voice. "Pity.", she thought. "This one's cute, too." He walked up close, and connected at the lips again. She walked behind him slowly, feeling him as she did. This had to be quick. Her arms were tight around him, her tongue snaked in his ear. And as she did so, she whispered, "I must tell you something."
"And what's that, babe?", he asked. She licked her lips, and pulled out a hunting knife, her eyes glinted evilly, and slit his throat in one move.

"Nobody calls me, 'babe'."

"Hold it!" A soldier ran into the room, followed by a squad of men, who had her surrounded. Caught red handed, quite literally. His blood was on her fingers. Someone had tipped them off, probably. The captain of the squad walked over and cuffed her, took her outside, and that was the end of it. The Royal Court sentenced her to the mines for the deaths of 15 officials and 3 wealthy merchants, to slave there for the rest of her life. All at the age of 18.

"Rinoah Maynada?" The heavy door swung open, another guard was there. She was still groping for a rock to light a spark onto the candle when that happened, so they found her on the floor, a rat scampering past, and she stood up.

"The one and only.", she said.
"You must come with me, by orders of the Royal Court."

The Royal Court? The ones that had convicted her here? What did the bastards want now?
"Why?"
"You have been summoned. You are in need."

Need? They banish her here, under the watch of vicious brute, then ask for help?

Screw them.

"In return, your freedom will be granted."

Say what?

"What was that?", she asked. "My freedom?"
"You are in need."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that part.", she said. "On what conditions?"
"You will be briefed by the Prime Minister. That is all I have been told. Come with me."

She was escorted to a carriage, sitting outside the mines, and stepped in, still in her rags, with no idea where she was going, what was going on, or what was to happen. But if it were any other place but the mines, she'll go.

They arrived at a castle near midnight, it was a 10-hour ride, with no stops. Stepping out, she saw a massive stone castle, with turrets and towers, and guards. The whole shebang. And when the doors opened, sat the grand ballroom.

The prime minister, and her fate, sat inside.