After about, she guesses, an hour of running. They finally come to a stop by a river. It’s dried up by a huge boulder that tumbled in the waterway uphill so now, it’s just trinkling down in streams. The sun has risen at this point. Though, the dense canopy overhead is blocking out the light. The assassin orders his soldiers to set up a temporary rest stop before violently throwing her on the ground again. She’s still tied up by his wires. But at least this time there’re dead leaves bracing her landing.

“Talk.” he orders. She manages to sit up, answering sternly,

“What do you even want me to say, you’re already convinced I’m working for Estelis.”

“Convince me you’re not. Convince me I shouldn’t torture you for information.”

“I’m not.”

“Why did you free the Estelian slaves?”

“Because I don’t condone slavery. I don’t condone the way you’re treating them.”

“Then how did the enemy know we placed a barrel of explosive there?”

“How am I supposed to know that. Ask the-” wait. Explosives... Explosives! Something suddenly strikes her as odd. It doesn’t add up,

“I saw the explosives. But it was inside a tent. Behind some crates. If a flaming arrow ignited it from the outside. Then how did it explode immediately? It should’ve set things on fire first before blowing up.”

“That’s because you moved it.”

“If I moved it without being seen, then why wouldn’t I ignite it too? The blast radius isn’t that big. I could’ve easily extended the detonation cord and set it off like that. Wouldn’t it be easier that way? Why go through the hassle to get an ally of mine to ignite it? How would I even get the information to said ally when I was occupied trying to free the prisoners at the same time.”

“The arrow was shot from a tree top. The archer could’ve seen it.”

“The tents are tall. The barrel is small and inconspicuous. Even smaller if you’re viewing it from all the way outside the village in the dead of night. There are countless others scattered around that look the same. It’s unnecessarily convoluted. Doesn’t it make more sense if the person that moved the barrel is also the same person that shot the arrow? That way, they’ll know precisely where the barrel was placed to get it in one accurate shot, and they’ll be safely out of the village. And since I couldn’t have been the one that shot the arrow, then the logic only follows that I couldn’t have been the one to move the barrel.” he doesn’t respond to that. In fact, he looks like he’s pondering her words, she should continue persuading,

“Your rat does exist, but your rat isn’t me. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

He’s about to say something when they’re intruded by a slow clapping. The soldiers begin ominously surrounding them. He frowns,

“Why are you just watching, go-” but he immediately gets interrupted by another voice,

“That’s pretty good analysis, missy. I’m impressed you figured all of that out with just the information of where the arrow was shot from.” they turn their gaze towards the direction of the speaker. A soldier is emerging from the crowd. Hair, vibrant as the sunset red, unruly as the look in his wild pupils that catches the light like the sharp glare of a coin. She gasps. She’s seen this man before! In her dreams, he decapitated the head of Astia’s ruler. Is he the catalyst that God is trying to warn her of?

“Judas, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Don’t you get it. You’re being betrayed. It's a set up. Free me. Quick!” but the assassin just pushes her aside instead. Sending her skidding off to a corner on her bum.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Looks like the little lady is sharper than you are.” redhead draws his claymore, “by the way, my name isn’t Judas.” lunging forward,

“To think, the White Ghost of Astia is going to die so pitifully in a forest with no one to witness it.”

The assassin catches the attack between wires he’s pulled from his sleeves. But the others are immediately following up. Hacking at him from all directions. It makes him instantly jerk away. Meandering through the gaps of their assault. Latching his wires onto the soldiers. He’s tugging at them. But something’s wrong. It won’t cut past the armor they’re wearing. Before him, redhead is wildly swinging for him,

“You really thought, we wouldn’t come prepared after we’ve been studying and marinating you for months.” His sheer strength, demolishing even the trees in his path. Toppling them onto the ground,

“You see. You’re too much a pain in the ass to deal with the good ol’ honorable way.” It narrowly misses the assassin by the nose. But an arrow, shot by redhead’s archer comrades who’s now climbed up onto the branches gets him on the side. It staggers the assassin into another cleaving attack that he’s caught with a dagger this time.

An onslaught of arrows follows. No matter how good he is at juking attacks, he can’t withstand the entire barrage as well as the men attacking him from all directions. Even as he’s retaliating with dagger throws, downing a few assaulters here and there with critical hits the between the brows and throat. He’s gradually getting overwhelmed. Sharp metals nicking into his skin, his actions are starting to slow from the damage he’s taking. The redhead especially, is extremely devastating. Despite the assassin is faster, he can’t seem to overpower him at all.

She desperately screams,

“Set me free! Let me help!” but he isn’t listening. He doesn’t trust her. So, she struggles harder. Forces her hand so she’s able to reach for a blade she’s tucked into her stash. Got it. She desperately saws at the wires. Quick. Why the hell is the material so stubborn. She turns her attention back. The assassin got more arrows stuck in him now. One in his thigh and another in his arm. The redhead is furiously driving him back. One direct hit from him will be catastrophic. He’s stronger than a wrecking ball. Smashing even rocks into fragments in his path. The assassin is trying to get off the ground. Kicking himself off two tree barks but the redhead is just bulldozing it down entirely with clean sweeps of his claymore. Dropping him into striking range again.

The wires around her loosen. She broke it. Good! She immediately picks herself up on her legs,

“Hang in there!” she yells as she runs the opposite direction up stream to where she saw the boulder enroute. She can still hear the redhead's taunt,

“Looks like she ditched you after all.” she didn’t! Come on, faster legs. She sees it up ahead. It’s blocking the river flow. A natural dam has been created, puddling into a small lake. She ransacks for the dynamites that she’s swiped earlier. Tucking it into the crevices. Taking out two more daggers, she scrapes them against each other. God. It still hurts like hell when she tries to use her left arm. She doesn’t quite have a large range of motion yet. But it’s good enough to hold something. Come on. Come on. She tosses her head over her shoulders to check. The trees are blocking her sight, but she still hears metals clashing. The assassin isn’t dead yet.

Quick! Quick! She’s in so much of a hurry the sharp blades are digging into her fingers. Making her grip slippery with blood. She’s losing traction. With one final clash. A spark forms. It catches onto the detonation cord. Igniting it with a sizzle. She dives out of the way as the explosion goes off. Blasting the boulder into pieces. Then the ground rattles. The water, suddenly released, comes rapidly gushing out like canon fire. The force of it sweeps her along before she can find the bank. Forcing her to inhale an entire nose full. It’s suffocating her. She can’t breathe. But she’s trying to stay afloat best as she can. Then the assassin comes into view again,

“Dodge!” she screams as the torrent takes her forward in sonic speed. By the time the soldiers turn their heads to realize what is going on, she is already there. Washing everyone away with her. Fuck. She’s getting submerged again. Her lungs are burning. Her entire body stings from scratches of rock fragments and sharp branches. Then something wraps around her wrist. Wires. She’s being pulled forward. Out of the flood and into the air like a fish being caught. The assassin is on the other side, stretching both arms out, ready to catch her. She gracelessly crashes into him. They’re rolling downhill from the impact for a short distance before coming to a stop against a tree. The force choking blood out of him in a dry cough. But he still prioritizes asking,

“Can you run?” as he looks to the direction of where the assaulting ground soldiers are all swept. She nods. He quickly helps her up. The arrows aren’t stopping. The ones on the trees are relentlessly shooting at them still. But the moment she takes the first step. A sensation that’s starting to get awfully familiar hits her again. Oh no. Not now! Her vision is darkening. Then her legs give out. She’s going to pass out again. Why is this body so fucking wea-.