Hey all ya angels out there. This is first attempt at writing, so tell me
what ya all think. And you do know, I am absolutely gonna slobber over any
reviews! So, as everyone says, please read and review but with chocolate
icing and cherry on top?:p
(Who says I have cravings? What cravings?) I lurve choccy, and all that's sweet, so the sweetest days for you, my friend. And eat chocolate! It's good for you, really]:).
Hugs and sweets, Kaye
Enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE ~ ICE
The secret meaning is that there is no secret meaning.
The night was as old as the day was young.
Tia could almost feel the night's glare at her, striking through her soul, stealing her breath. The wind was savage and the sabre was like ice in her hands.
Yes, the night was alive, and it seemed a million hot yellow eyes bore a hole into the bark of the large oak tree she was leaning against. The pale moonlight struggled through its dark canopy and landed on the sabre. Tia followed its path, slowly, slowly, until it reached the ruby, where its pale light burst into a million translucent rays of red.
Red like the fires of hell.
Her little hands knotted into fists, and all the while, she was reminded of them.
They were after her.
Tia clutched the sabre to her chest, as though it would somehow save her from what had destroyed the only home she had.
Them.
They were after her.
And they would find her.
But not if she became one of them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia arrived at the large oak doors of the training school. She was soaked to the skin, and her limp black hair fell in rat tails around her pale face. At the age of 10, she had learnt to grow up fast. And sacrifice. She hesitated a second before grabbing the large metal doorknob and. . clang, clang, clang! The hollow sound echoed all around her, breaking the tranquil silence of the sleeping village. It seemed to thump with the beating of her heart, bouncing off the cold stone walls of the training school and throbbing into the darkest corner of the building.
The rain poured down her loose top, slithering down her spine like some evil creature of the night, dripping into her shoes so that with every step she took forward, her feet squelched against the slimy soles. The sound was oddly loud to her ears. Or perhaps the place was just unnaturally silent?
Tia's ten year old mind worked furiously behind a blank mask, the one she presented the world with, because the world was somehow frightened of the lifeless eyes which stared out of her young face.
The door opened with a reluctant groan, and she came face to leg with a pair of long, long, black trousers. She also noticed with some fascination that the figure wore no shoes; the feet were bare. She couldn't see his profile properly because her rain logged hair was plastered to her forehead, and a few annoying tendrils kept escaping into her dark rimmed eyes. All she saw were his eyes, an endless, soulless, black. Like the night . . no, they were the night.
Tia lifted her chin and stared defiantly into those eyes, eyes that would have made any person or animal freeze in their tracks and tremble. They were powerful eyes, and now, as she saw a flicker of hunger flit across the dark smears, she knew they were hunters' eyes.
Tia opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and walked off, his body becoming part of the shadows which stretched into lengthened blackness. "Wait!" she called out, moistening her already wet lips. But he was gone.
The water from her hair dripped in a steady rhythm to the bitter wind and pounding rain outside.
She could feel his icy glare on her, somewhere in the dark room, yet she couldn't see him. Tia had only her instincts. "I have come to seek the master in all his power, and hope that in his graciousness, he will accept me as a student." There was no sound.
The water had made a pool on the hardwood floor and for a moment, Tia thought she saw a reflection in its murky waters. Yet she made no attempt to turn around. This was a test, she knew. The shadow in the pool lengthened and became part of the man, and he was walking towards her, yet somehow Tia couldn't hear his footsteps, nor his breath. So was the art of the assassins.
But he wouldn't get her. She would use her slight height against him. As his arm was about to land on her shoulder, she spun around, ducked through his legs and flipped back onto her feet all in one moment. For a minute, the man looked surprised.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. But there was no mirth in his laughter, nor was there kindness. Only a grudging acceptance.
He turned to her. "Come. The master is waiting."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia's bare feet hit the hard wood floor of the fighting room. She wore the loose black clothes of an assassin, and around her head, a black band etched with a red rose.
The master looked at her thoughtfully. It had been 6 years since she had first arrived here, begging for him to take her in. He had taken a risk. Now was the time to decide if he had made the right choice.
She had changed much since their first meeting, and so had he.
She had become even colder, even less humane than when she had first arrived, and she was certainly a girl no more. She had grown up.
Even though he hated to admit it, the master had grown close to Tia. She was one of his best, the Elite Assassin, and, she never failed. And with her clear sense of mind and quick, light touch, it was no wonder.
The master had been taken in by the calm, collected, icy girl the moment she had entered his room. Tia was smart, in fact, she was beyond smart, the sort of smart that only hit you when it presented itself to you full-on, but it was always there and always will be there, hovering just beneath the pale cast of her skin.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia looked at the master, at those eyes which had seemed to bore into her soul the moment she entered his room, the moment her small feet had touched the rug . . those eyes were like lasers, unveiling the deepest fears of her heart and quenching them, at the same time comforting her. He was her teacher, her master, and . . her friend.
The Master smiles at her, his brown eyes lighting up with the intensity of a thousand lamps. His hair is graying near the sides, and he seems to slouch unconsciously, his cane resting on the floor.
Yet the Master's voice rang out loud and clear. "Today is your test. It will decide if you should be given an assassin's title and weather you deserve to have me grant you a name. A hunters' name. This will decide your fate, Tia."
The last glimpse of warmth and fondness were gone from his eyes, and he treated her like any one of his assassins. Yes, the Master was the Master, after all, and he was a professional.
He held a curved sword, in his hand, its' polished blade like quicksilver, reflecting the moon.
"Choose a weapon of your own." His voice was low, menacing.
She stared with that same defiant look on her face which had captured him at ten years of age, and reached into her belt. Out of it, she pulled out a sabre. The blade seemed to be alive, and it was a cold, translucent colour, like . . ice.
The hilt had long ago melded to Tia's familiar grip, and rested in her hand like a docile kitten. Her eyes narrowed. The first rule of the Assassins. Show no mercy.
To anyone.
She would complete this test even if it meant sacrificing. After all, she knew everything about that, right?
Tia gripped the sabre harder, except this time, it was not clutched to her chest like something which could preserve life, but raised as a destroyer of life, of love, and of hope.
The Master stepped forward; he too wore an expression of extreme concentration on his face. And he too, was unyielding.
Show no mercy.
"You may begin." The Master's voice betrayed no emotion.
Tia did not hesitate, nor did she answer. She leapt into the air like fire, like water and the sabre became part of her, they were one.
In mid air, she curled into a tight tumble, and then lashed out with her weapon, but the Master blocked with an astonishingly fast hand. God, she didn't even see that coming.
Tia's hand had long ago gone numb from the impact, but she gritted her teeth, retaliating immediately with a swift lunge forward, but once again he blocked her way, and cut his sword through the air. She ducked, tumbled into a forward somersault and was back on her feet. He spun around "never face your back to an enemy", his cloak whipping across her face. He was fast.
But she was fast too.
What was she to do? The Master had both the experience and the power over her, yet . . there had to be some way!
Suddenly Tia's mind cleared of all the useless clutter, and clear cold ice settled. She remembered how the Master's whole left side had been injured in a battle and had never fully recovered. She lunged forward suddenly, furiously attacking his left side, where he could not defend himself all that well, and watched as though her body no longer belonged to her as the sabre slashed though his cloak like water. Then, Tia hesitated. An almost fatal mistake.
The Master saw his chance and jumped forward, parring her move for move, then, cut across her arm.
Blood ran down her arms and slid down her hands, making it hard to hold the sabre as firmly as before, but now, now the sabre had tasted blood.
And it wanted more.
It was like a thing alive, and she, a thing possessed. She had a power, a hunger, a hatred which wasn't there before, and the Master was surprised at her venomous expression and the quick, merciless attacks of her sabre, each aiming for death. Her sabre was pulsing with an eerie red light, and it was reflected onto her face.
Before he knew it, the sabre was against his neck. The master, for the first time in his life, felt a thrill of terror.
He closed his eyes. He was going to die at the hands of the girl he had taught. But now, she was different. Now, she was one of them.
The expected blow didn't come, and when the Master opened his eyes, he found Tia's eyes downcast in a gesture of respect. And the sabre, still dripped blood.
His blood.
And hers.
"I think you have earned the title 'ICE'."
She glanced at him with her pale, pale, translucent blue eyes, the co lour of ice.
Yes, the name suited her.
(Who says I have cravings? What cravings?) I lurve choccy, and all that's sweet, so the sweetest days for you, my friend. And eat chocolate! It's good for you, really]:).
Hugs and sweets, Kaye
Enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE ~ ICE
The secret meaning is that there is no secret meaning.
The night was as old as the day was young.
Tia could almost feel the night's glare at her, striking through her soul, stealing her breath. The wind was savage and the sabre was like ice in her hands.
Yes, the night was alive, and it seemed a million hot yellow eyes bore a hole into the bark of the large oak tree she was leaning against. The pale moonlight struggled through its dark canopy and landed on the sabre. Tia followed its path, slowly, slowly, until it reached the ruby, where its pale light burst into a million translucent rays of red.
Red like the fires of hell.
Her little hands knotted into fists, and all the while, she was reminded of them.
They were after her.
Tia clutched the sabre to her chest, as though it would somehow save her from what had destroyed the only home she had.
Them.
They were after her.
And they would find her.
But not if she became one of them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia arrived at the large oak doors of the training school. She was soaked to the skin, and her limp black hair fell in rat tails around her pale face. At the age of 10, she had learnt to grow up fast. And sacrifice. She hesitated a second before grabbing the large metal doorknob and. . clang, clang, clang! The hollow sound echoed all around her, breaking the tranquil silence of the sleeping village. It seemed to thump with the beating of her heart, bouncing off the cold stone walls of the training school and throbbing into the darkest corner of the building.
The rain poured down her loose top, slithering down her spine like some evil creature of the night, dripping into her shoes so that with every step she took forward, her feet squelched against the slimy soles. The sound was oddly loud to her ears. Or perhaps the place was just unnaturally silent?
Tia's ten year old mind worked furiously behind a blank mask, the one she presented the world with, because the world was somehow frightened of the lifeless eyes which stared out of her young face.
The door opened with a reluctant groan, and she came face to leg with a pair of long, long, black trousers. She also noticed with some fascination that the figure wore no shoes; the feet were bare. She couldn't see his profile properly because her rain logged hair was plastered to her forehead, and a few annoying tendrils kept escaping into her dark rimmed eyes. All she saw were his eyes, an endless, soulless, black. Like the night . . no, they were the night.
Tia lifted her chin and stared defiantly into those eyes, eyes that would have made any person or animal freeze in their tracks and tremble. They were powerful eyes, and now, as she saw a flicker of hunger flit across the dark smears, she knew they were hunters' eyes.
Tia opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and walked off, his body becoming part of the shadows which stretched into lengthened blackness. "Wait!" she called out, moistening her already wet lips. But he was gone.
The water from her hair dripped in a steady rhythm to the bitter wind and pounding rain outside.
She could feel his icy glare on her, somewhere in the dark room, yet she couldn't see him. Tia had only her instincts. "I have come to seek the master in all his power, and hope that in his graciousness, he will accept me as a student." There was no sound.
The water had made a pool on the hardwood floor and for a moment, Tia thought she saw a reflection in its murky waters. Yet she made no attempt to turn around. This was a test, she knew. The shadow in the pool lengthened and became part of the man, and he was walking towards her, yet somehow Tia couldn't hear his footsteps, nor his breath. So was the art of the assassins.
But he wouldn't get her. She would use her slight height against him. As his arm was about to land on her shoulder, she spun around, ducked through his legs and flipped back onto her feet all in one moment. For a minute, the man looked surprised.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. But there was no mirth in his laughter, nor was there kindness. Only a grudging acceptance.
He turned to her. "Come. The master is waiting."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia's bare feet hit the hard wood floor of the fighting room. She wore the loose black clothes of an assassin, and around her head, a black band etched with a red rose.
The master looked at her thoughtfully. It had been 6 years since she had first arrived here, begging for him to take her in. He had taken a risk. Now was the time to decide if he had made the right choice.
She had changed much since their first meeting, and so had he.
She had become even colder, even less humane than when she had first arrived, and she was certainly a girl no more. She had grown up.
Even though he hated to admit it, the master had grown close to Tia. She was one of his best, the Elite Assassin, and, she never failed. And with her clear sense of mind and quick, light touch, it was no wonder.
The master had been taken in by the calm, collected, icy girl the moment she had entered his room. Tia was smart, in fact, she was beyond smart, the sort of smart that only hit you when it presented itself to you full-on, but it was always there and always will be there, hovering just beneath the pale cast of her skin.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tia looked at the master, at those eyes which had seemed to bore into her soul the moment she entered his room, the moment her small feet had touched the rug . . those eyes were like lasers, unveiling the deepest fears of her heart and quenching them, at the same time comforting her. He was her teacher, her master, and . . her friend.
The Master smiles at her, his brown eyes lighting up with the intensity of a thousand lamps. His hair is graying near the sides, and he seems to slouch unconsciously, his cane resting on the floor.
Yet the Master's voice rang out loud and clear. "Today is your test. It will decide if you should be given an assassin's title and weather you deserve to have me grant you a name. A hunters' name. This will decide your fate, Tia."
The last glimpse of warmth and fondness were gone from his eyes, and he treated her like any one of his assassins. Yes, the Master was the Master, after all, and he was a professional.
He held a curved sword, in his hand, its' polished blade like quicksilver, reflecting the moon.
"Choose a weapon of your own." His voice was low, menacing.
She stared with that same defiant look on her face which had captured him at ten years of age, and reached into her belt. Out of it, she pulled out a sabre. The blade seemed to be alive, and it was a cold, translucent colour, like . . ice.
The hilt had long ago melded to Tia's familiar grip, and rested in her hand like a docile kitten. Her eyes narrowed. The first rule of the Assassins. Show no mercy.
To anyone.
She would complete this test even if it meant sacrificing. After all, she knew everything about that, right?
Tia gripped the sabre harder, except this time, it was not clutched to her chest like something which could preserve life, but raised as a destroyer of life, of love, and of hope.
The Master stepped forward; he too wore an expression of extreme concentration on his face. And he too, was unyielding.
Show no mercy.
"You may begin." The Master's voice betrayed no emotion.
Tia did not hesitate, nor did she answer. She leapt into the air like fire, like water and the sabre became part of her, they were one.
In mid air, she curled into a tight tumble, and then lashed out with her weapon, but the Master blocked with an astonishingly fast hand. God, she didn't even see that coming.
Tia's hand had long ago gone numb from the impact, but she gritted her teeth, retaliating immediately with a swift lunge forward, but once again he blocked her way, and cut his sword through the air. She ducked, tumbled into a forward somersault and was back on her feet. He spun around "never face your back to an enemy", his cloak whipping across her face. He was fast.
But she was fast too.
What was she to do? The Master had both the experience and the power over her, yet . . there had to be some way!
Suddenly Tia's mind cleared of all the useless clutter, and clear cold ice settled. She remembered how the Master's whole left side had been injured in a battle and had never fully recovered. She lunged forward suddenly, furiously attacking his left side, where he could not defend himself all that well, and watched as though her body no longer belonged to her as the sabre slashed though his cloak like water. Then, Tia hesitated. An almost fatal mistake.
The Master saw his chance and jumped forward, parring her move for move, then, cut across her arm.
Blood ran down her arms and slid down her hands, making it hard to hold the sabre as firmly as before, but now, now the sabre had tasted blood.
And it wanted more.
It was like a thing alive, and she, a thing possessed. She had a power, a hunger, a hatred which wasn't there before, and the Master was surprised at her venomous expression and the quick, merciless attacks of her sabre, each aiming for death. Her sabre was pulsing with an eerie red light, and it was reflected onto her face.
Before he knew it, the sabre was against his neck. The master, for the first time in his life, felt a thrill of terror.
He closed his eyes. He was going to die at the hands of the girl he had taught. But now, she was different. Now, she was one of them.
The expected blow didn't come, and when the Master opened his eyes, he found Tia's eyes downcast in a gesture of respect. And the sabre, still dripped blood.
His blood.
And hers.
"I think you have earned the title 'ICE'."
She glanced at him with her pale, pale, translucent blue eyes, the co lour of ice.
Yes, the name suited her.