Redemption and a Pocket Watch, Part 5

[edonil]

Phelan drew back his sword with both hands, and slammed it into the back of the waldgeist. His blade bit into the skin, and embedded itself. With a cry of rage, the waldgeist spun from mauling Sabine, and launched itself at Phelan, jaws open. Scrambling in desperation, Phelan ducked under the creature, and pulled out his short sword. Adrenaline coursed through his system, and he ducked back from the creature, dropping into a guard stance.

The waldgeist turned its head, momentarily distracted by the longsword stuck into its back. With a hiss of annoyance, it got one large paw on the metal blade, and snapped half of it off. Red eyes turned to Phelan, and he swore he could see the glimmers of a wicked intellect in those crimson depths. It reared and let out a strange, guttural, chittering sound, then dropped to all fours and charged.

Rather than try to cut it, Phelan spun and wove around the attacks the creature made. Its outer skin was too tough to get through, so the only way to kill it would be to find some gap that he could exploit. He searched frantically for one, his movements becoming even more frantic as the creature became more adept at guessing the direction he would dodge. Its mouth opened, a black void that promised death- and Phelan's short sword flashed silver, stabbing at an upward angle into that blackness, searching for the creature's brain. It screamed in outrage and pain, and the assassin braced the pommel of his blade against his mechanical hand, leveraging its strength and shoving the sword even further. The waldgeist's rear legs scrambled backwards, trying to drag itself away from the blade, but it went nowhere. The noises coming from it changed, increasing in pitch, before breaking down into a chilling rattle as it collapsed onto the ground.

Gasping for breath, Phelan pulled the short sword out of the body, and spat onto the ground, clearing his mouth. "At least there's no blood to clean off," he said, looking over the sword briefly. He turned and walked over to Sabine. "You alright?"

The crack of a pistol made him hit the ground, and he immediately launched into a lengthy bout of swearing. "Dammit, woman, I just saved your life, what the hell are you doing?!"

The Guild sergeant had propped herself up on one elbow, blood dripping freely from a nasty cut across her forehead. "Saving yours," she gasped, prompting him to look backwards. Immediately, he scrambled backwards, his exhausted body collapsing from confused instructions in his panic. Another waldgeist lay on the ground behind him, its eyes slowly dimming as the life drained from it. The bullet had exited the back of its head, sending shards of bark flying all over from the wound.

Phelan looked at Sabine in shock, and then started laughing in relief. She looked at him like he was a madman, and that only made him laugh harder. Eventually, he got himself back under control as tears streamed down his face, and waved a hand in an attempt at a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it's not funny..." he gasped, getting back to his feet. He took a few deep, calming breaths, and then looked down at the woman. "How badly are you hurt?"

"My knee's pretty busted up," she said, grimacing as she tried to move her leg. "Damn waldgeist landed on my leg. Scratches and bruises everywhere else."

The assassin grabbed the gear that was on the ground, somewhat amazed that nothing had broken other than the sword, and then helped her up, letting her lean onto his shoulder. "Let's go, sergeant. With luck, we won't run into anything else that wants to eat us."

-------

Phelan stepped out of the infirmary in the guard barracks, and began the walk back to his quarters. The medics had looked him over, finding little but scratches and bruises to patch up. Sabine's knee would take a while to return to normal, and they were looking it over in more detail to check if it would ever heal properly. The assassin had wanted to stay longer, but one of the medics had finally bit his head off for getting in the way. Taking the hint, he decided to drop off his samples, and possibly run over to Leveticus' shop.

He pulled out a pocket watch from his jacket, checking the time, a small part of his soul aching as he saw the blank space in its cover. It had been several weeks before he had been able to return to Leveticus' salvage shop, and once he had, the watch he had put up as collateral was already gone. Exquisitely polite as always, the shop owner had firmly refused to tell the assassin who the watch had been sold to, and Phelan despaired of ever finding that precious item ever again. He had made it a weekly routine, however, of going to the shop to purchase some hard to find supplies, and to inquire if Leveticus had seen the watch. The answer was always the same, but nevertheless, the assassin continued to do it.

The open door to his room made him pause, and pull out one of his throwing knives. Cautiously, he entered the room, and barely kept in the check the urge to swear. Body aching, he bowed, returning the knife to its home. "Lord Secretary, what a surprise."

Lucius looked up from a set of notes on Phelan's desk. "Ah, so you've returned. Good. I have a job for you."

"I'm at my lord's command."

"Insolence suits you better, assassin. Toadying annoys me. The task is something new- the Guild garrison of a town on the frontier has become severely lacking in their protection of Guild interests. I want you to make an example of them." The secretary picked up an envelope off the desk and handed it to Phelan. "All the information is there. A squad of soldiers will be ready to join you in the morning, as protection and assistance."

"A...squad? Lord Secretary, I'm an assassin, not a general. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Well, that's quite simple, really. I want you to kill all of them." Lucius pushed his glasses further up his nose with one gloved hand. "How you do so is up to you. All I require is that it be public, brutal, and horrifying. You are my executioner in this action."

Phelan opened the envelope, and looked briefly over the papers in it. "Any concept of being in the background will disappear if I do this. An assassin everyone knows is a useless assassin."

"True. Which is why I've had a uniform crafted for you. You'll find it in your closet. I expect this to be done within two weeks, assassin. Sergeant Sabine will, injuries permitting, accompany you as normal." The door closed behind the secretary, and Phelan was left alone in the room. Sighing, he pulled out his samples and began preparing space for them.

Curiosity ate away at him, finally winning out, and he headed over to the closet. He rarely used the space, having only a few outfits, but it would be interesting to see what Lucius thought his executioner should look like. He opened the door, and stared. A gentleman's traveling outfit hung on the hooks, black leather with silver embroidery on the edges. He nearly started laughing at the absurdity of the thought of this being the uniform of an executioner, until he saw the metal object that sat next to the hat. He carefully picked it up, turning it in the light of the room. The mask was made of iron, and shaped into the snarling visage of a wolf. He snorted gently. Apparently the Secretary had a sense of humor, however caustic. The assassin placed the mask over his face, and looked into a mirror. Lucius' executioner stared back.

[hakoMike]

Well done! This is getting more captivating as you go.

[thatnicguy]

Nice! Way to build a character! I think im broken that just the mention of a wolfs head just makes me think of George r.r. Martin

[edonil]

Nice! Way to build a character! I think im broken that just the mention of a wolfs head just makes me think of George r.r. Martin

Heh, wasn't even thinking Game of Thrones when I wrote it...will freely admit to stealing the name and the mask from Battletech. Phelan Kell is one of my favorite characters of all times. Of course, my Phelan has ended up drastically different, which is okay with me.