The best hunter-slayers are so quiet you wouldn’t even know they are there.

- Skulkan proverb

A lone figure ran down the narrowed streets as the footfalls slapped against the limestone street. The figure made a sharp turn and continued down as a foot landed in a puddle of water. What little ambient light that the moon provided was reflected in a spray of shimmering droplets.

The water had no time to resettle as two more sets of feet disrupted the stillness of the night with another splash. The lone figure turned the next corner and pulled an apple from a pouch. She yanked the stem and dropped it down.

Then stopped at the wall that blocked her escape. The rings from the armor clinked together as they slid to a halt. Fanning out they checked the wall and back to their prey.

“You gave us quite ah bit of chase, hunter,” one of them said catching his breath. “You failed ta' kill Patronus Markuss.”

"Well he did crap all over himself and his guests so no one will take him seriously again," she said pulling her headband over her eyes.

Next, she stuck out her arms to her sides and extended her index and middle fingers.

“Five…” she said mumbling her breath.

“Oh look the wee lil’ hunter is gonna’ poke us with her fingers,” the second guard said as he unwielded his sword from his leather scabbard.

“Four…” she continued.

“Patronus Markuss wants proof so we can jus’ lob her head off an’ toss the rest into the lake for the murder-logs ta' nibble on,” the first guard said as he withdrew his sword.

“Three…” she said.

A guard twisted his sword from side to side, showing off the arm-length blade. The hunter-slayer stretched her foot in front of her and pointed downward then swept her foot behind her.

“Two…you two might not be able to see because it’s too bright tonight, but I'm smiling,” she said.

“What are you going on about?” he asked.

The apple sizzled and popped shooting sparks out from the top. With a loud pop, it exploded in a bright burst of light. She lifted up her headband over her eyes.

With a jolt of speed, she rushed towards the two guards whose eyes were covered by their hands. A sword swung wildly towards her, but she side-stepped out of the way. She jabbed her fingers on his unarmored neck, curled her fingers, and raked them down. The guard wobbled on his feet as tears streamed down his eyes.

“The Piscari’s send their regards, this is our city,” she said pirouetting on her toes, positioning herself behind the second guard.

Poking him the back of his neck an ark of blue sparks shot out from her fingertips. Sweeping her fingers down his spine he fell to his knees.

“Ljúga draumr’s judgment,” she whispered in his ear.

She turned and faced the wall and jumped on the side and then sprung to the other side. Alternating from one side to the other, she skipped up the wall till she reached the top. Crouching down low she peeked over the side of the street below.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

She spied from her vantage point, waiting for the guards to recover. They shook their heads, and after the daze wore off they turned around and ran down the street.

“There he is, we got you now!” shouted a guard.

"He’s-ah bleeding, get’em before he gets ta’ the Piscari docks,” yelled the second guard.

“Chasing head phantoms should keep them busy for the rest of the night,” she said watching them disappear around the corner.

She checked her surroundings and noticed a knee-high figure standing on top of an onion-shaped dome. The figure wore a cone-shaped rice hat, a protruding hilt of a sword strapped to the back, and a long blue cloak. The figure jumped down and landed on the rooftop next to the hunter.

“Sooth-slayer you’re late,” the figure said in a high-pitched voice.

“It’s to be expected,” she said examining her fingernails. “I was forced to double back because I kept losing the Marcuss’ boys, Meepo.”

Meepo pulled his sword from behind his back. In the light of the sliver of the moon, she caught sight of the bundled bamboo slats that made up the wooden blade of the weapon. He swung the sword and she jumped out of the way, but the tip caught her in the left shin.

“Ow! What the heck was that for you rotten green goblin?” she asked rubbing her shin.

“For showing off,” he said slipping the weapon back in its scabbard. “Pirouetting instead of hitting both guards at the same time with a Koki-Island cross.”

She leaned against the dome and nodded in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” she said.

“Are going to be trying out for the theater troupe next?” he asked dancing on his toes. “Fancy yourself as a giggling harlequin?”

She ignored him and examined her fingernails again holding them up to the moon. Meepo tossed a thumbnail-sized crystal attached to a silver chain at her. She caught it and dangled the pendant in front of her.

“Aquamarine glass, really?” she said letting out a drawn-out sigh. “But I just finished the last mission.”

The hunter turned to say something, but Meepo was gone. She reexamined her surroundings and decided it was peaceful enough. Sitting down in the shadow of the onion-shaped dome she rolled the crystal around in her fingertips and yanked it off the chain.

“Well, let’s see what that old fishcake wants,” she mumbled and placed the crystal to her temple.

Her vision blurred and once the haze cleared a female, surrounded by a blueish glow, in her late teens with long silver hair and white robes stepped appeared. She curtsied to Vesta.

“Greetings and salutations Sooth-Slayer Vesta,” the figure said in her head.

Her soft voice echoed in Vesta’s head as she continued to listen.

“I’d-ah like ta’ personally commend you on the success of your infiltration mission of the Markuss villa. As you may already know…”

“Short version,” Vesta thought.

The figure half-curtsied, blurred and the image refocused.

“I’ll-ah get ta’ the point,” she said in a huff. “Recently, we were approached by the former director of the Gillespie Theater Troupe, an individual by the name of Uriel Gillespie.”

“Great, clowns…” she thought flexing her fingers. “So why me?”

“After consulting the trade oracles, it was determined that ah skilled tracker was required to reach the 89.5-percent threshold of success,” she replied.

Vesta snorted with amusement, and thought, “So why does this clown need a tracker?”

The image blurred again and refocused.

“According ta’ our recruiter, Uriel is after the brother of Bloody Batherry, Stefann nDrix, but wouldn’t-ah further elaborate on additional details.”

“First clowns, now Drix cultists,” Vesta mumbled her breath. "Wait...I thought they were all exterminated."

“Apparently not,” replied the female. “It’s-ah imperative that you complete this mission immediately and make an attempt ta' recruit Uriel because…”

She pulled the crystal from her forehead and stood up. After examining the pendant one more time she threw it on the ground and crushed it with the heel of her foot.

“Do you own recruiting, fishcake, I got a clown to meet,” she said kicking the fragments away.

Vesta ran across the top of the roof and jumped across to the nearby building slipping into the shadows of the night.