The Assassin

The night was bleak. Only the steady pounding of rain could be heard through the darkness.
A smile curled the lips of a young woman waiting in the shadows of shadows, pressed tightly against a rock face.
The fur trimmed hood of her dark robes
concealed her eyes to all who might glance in her direction. Not that anyone would, she thought wryly. I wouldn't be a very good assassin if I was seen now, would I?
Carefully, she edged along the side of the ravine, her worn leather boots finding footholds that barely existed within the gloom.
As she turned at a sharp angle, light
illuminated her face. Without thinking; she dropped to a crouch.
Long seconds ticked by but nothing changed. She had not been seen... Not yet, anyway.
With a sigh of relief, she dropped to her belly and wriggled her way along the precarious ledge, keeping her eyes on the burning embers of a fire, now directly ahead.
The ground beneath her ran out. She stood, cautiously, contemplating the guard on duty outside the nearest tent.
Time to play the waiting game; since it
always payed off in the end.
The guard was drinking from a bottle of
Shard Salt. A cheap, nasty alcohol that inflicted a drunken stupour after just one glass. Usually. This guard, however, seemed hardened to the effects, and it took nearly the whole bottle before his head finally lolled against his shoulders, and his eyes closed.
He began to emit a booming snore, and
before anyone appeared to waken him, she swiftly
leapt across the three foot gap ahead of her, loose pebbles clattering to the floor, before darting behind an old tree.
She began by standing delicately on the
large roots that overhung the cliff edge. A moment later, and her nimble self had climbed into the heart of the tree, settling on one of the many branches that provided a brilliant vantage point of the entire camp.
The tents were set up at random points,
about ten in total, forming a rough circle around the biggest campfire. Each tent, she estimated, could hold up to ten men, maybe more.
Eight horses were tethered nearby the
biggest tent, each grazing at the sparse grass they could find.
She almost laughed. Spying was far too
easy. But her mission was not just to spy, but to infiltrate.
'Get inside,' her leader had said, 'see who the captain of the Rogues is. Get back as quickly as you can.' And as an afterthought, 'Try not to kill anyone.'
'Now why would I do that?' She'd smiled
slyly, before setting out to perform the task.
After examining the layout thoroughly, she jumped from the tree, landing lightly on her toes, and crept into the camp.
Staying close to the tents, but not too close, else her shadow would be visible to the occupants, she made her way round to the large one.
It had a flag flying from its centre point, marking it clearly.
Three guards patrolled the front of it, so she wandered round to the back. There, a large rocky outcrop lay to one side, very close to the tent.
Pressing her back to it, she drew a dagger from her boot and made a tiny slit through the tent canvas. It was a pale canvas, so she did not worry about camoflauging her light flesh to peep through.
It was dark inside, with only the faint glow of an oil lamp in one corner.
She could see the silhouettes of figures in beds. Eight in total. Perfect.
Whether they were expecting her or not, the assassin didn't know. She just had to take her chances.
Bending down, she made two vertical slits, about five handspans apart, and seven in length. They ran to the bottom of the tent, creating a 'cat flap' as she liked to call them.
Pushing back the material she squeezed
through, her feet stepping onto the waterproof
sheets.
Creeping about, she examined each face
carefully. The leader, she guessed, was the only
person she knew. Atavar Neeron, who had once
betrayed the king. She stared at his cold, hard face, and the long scar running down one cheek.
And then it happened. His eyes snapped
open and he tried to grab her wrist.
'Guards!' He bellowed, 'The Spy has arrived!'
Quickly, with astonishing ease, she ran to the catflap, before pausing and turning round to face the many figures now approaching. She winced and then held her hands out in peace and submission. Her expressions were false, however, and she could easily escape if she wished.
'Too late for that Spy.' Atavar leered,
'Guards I would like you to torture her very slowly. Be gentle, but not too gentle.' He smiled peevishly, before turning to leave the tent. The other seven followed his lead, leaving only the guards behind.
The tallest one pinned her arms behind her back, too quickly for her to run, and grabbed her dagger, before grinning foolishly.
'It's been a long time since we last greeted a women.' One of them said, winking at a comrade.
'Aye. Think we could have a bit of fun with this un!' Another replied, reaching out to stroke her cheek.
Suddenly she grinned devilishly in reply. They stopped smiling and began to look confused as she opened her mouth to reply, 'I think we could have a bit of fun too, boys.'
Her voice was surprisingly delicate, but with a strong lilt. The hood of her robes fell down, revealing dark eyes and pointed ears. Most people opposing the King had grown to know that face, and these were no exception. In fact, they realised they had stood against her before.
'Miss me?' She winked at one of them,
before knocking the guard behind her flat, with a single kick.
Her arms free, she grabbed a dagger from
the other boot, and stabbed one of the men in the chest before he had time to react.
The other drew his sword and stood his
guard.
'Oh, very noble.' She nodded at him, ' but I'm afraid I can't stay to admire your fighting skills this time, Tam.' Silently, she congratulated herself on remembering his name, before beginning to battle.
His strength and her speed meant they were well matched. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to enjoy the thrill of a decent opponent. Instead, the assassin resorted to fighting dirty, and after he had fallen to the floor, groaning at the kick she had inflicted, the elf leapt over him to the front of the tent.
The guard she had knocked to the floor earlier had discovered the catflap and escaped via it. No doubt he would be alerting Atavar at that very moment.
Cursing a little at the thoughts, she picked up the pace and ran into the cool, night air, directly to where the horses were tethered.
Choosing a beautiful Ronine mare, she swiftly cut through its rope and mounted it. Then, gently, she eased the young thing round and urged it onwards.
Before they had gotten far, people
appeared to her left, and, seeing her making a
getaway rushed towards the horses.
Oh no you don't, she thought grimly,
launching her dagger at the horses tethers. Every rope was cut, and as the tension holding them released, and the dagger loudly clattered against the tree behind, the frightened things bolted into the night.
Moments later she herself broke free of the camp, and was galloping back to her own land of forests and fantasy.
Another task completed, she smiled.