Celaena Sardothien:
The grass whistled past, the earth further silencing my already ghost-like footsteps, and the night sky flowed through the treetops above. The daggers in my midnight black shin high boots pressed comfortingly against my lower hamstrings, as I ran through the dense, ironbark forest just outside the city. A few strands of my tight braid inside of the black wooden cloak's hood had fallen out, and the almost platinum blonde colour danced and shone in the faint moonlight coming through the gaps in the tree branches as I ran effortlessly, jumping and landing over fallen logs with the grace and quietness that most seemed unnatural. I slowed down a notch, as I came to yet another patch of dried brambles and bushes, and out of the corner of my eye I spied a faint yellow light through the surroundings. The light was coming from a lantern, strung in the low branches of a young fern tree. I sank into a practiced crouch in the shadows, and tucked in the strands of hair hastily whilst keeping my movements minimal, all the while keeping alert. I was aware that I had a time limit, so I scanned for tracks, broken twigs, anything that looked out of the ordinary… aside from the fern tree that was growing close to the middle of this Ironbark forest.
A rustle in the brambles came from about three metres away. A normal person would immediately jump to their feet and look, but I'm not normal. I dropped to my stomach as quick and skilful the wind would stop, and waited. The brambles stop rustling, and out jumped a fox. The rusty, dark red fur against the sharp, intruding white of the ears were pointed forward as the glaring, glinting black nose snuffled around quietly, and moved forward, padding with caution. Taking a few more paw steps closer, a little click sounded through the forest before the fox was shot down from above. I took in a sharp breath through my nose and stared at the spot where the fox's carcass lay, blood quickly blooming through the rustic fur, like a ruby red rose flowers in the spring.
The dead body lay a metre from the ring of light the lantern casts around the fern tree, and the bottom of the trees that had created a circular disk around the fern. I rolled slightly to my left just in time to miss being splattered by a dark, dappled grey horse, recklessly ridden by an identical rider covered in dark grey. The horse and rider trotted slowly into the ring of light without being shot and the rider dropped heavily from the saddle, looking around at the forest around him (It was a male, I had decided) and I caught a flash of hauntingly familiar eyes. They were the striking, royal blue Hallivard eyes, topped with dark eyebrows. I could faintly see the ends of his black hair poking out from underneath the hood of his cloak. Then, a name shoved through to the front of my thoughts. Dorian Hallivard, Crown Prince of Adarlan.
I inhaled a short, sharp breath as the Crown Prince bent down to study the fox corpse and I moved my arm down to my hip, pulling a shining, sharp, well crafted and balanced, twin steel daggers, each the size of my elbow down to my hand. The Prince must have sensed something otherwise he wouldn't have flicked his head to the side. I rose to my knees and walked hunched over, stalking towards my right, making it behind his horse, and going diagonally beside it so that it could see me. I moved my hand along its neck and it moved off to our left. Dorian then whirled around to face his horse, open mouthed to calm it, but I was there, daggers at the ready. With a small flick of the wrist, the dagger in my left hand flashed into the light, blinding the Prince momentarily and causing him to stumble back. I struck, slicing down his side, going through his cloak and the clothes beneath, finding the skin and continuing down. The horse jumped aside as Dorian cried out and fell onto his back. I brought up my left hand, dagger still there and shook of my hood and hissed:
"This, is for what your father did. And this, is for your pathetic Captain Westfall." I choked out around clenched teeth, a solid stone in my throat from the emotions the memory brought. As I finished the sentence, I swung my arms up in a circle and brought them down to his heart. I lent down next to his ear and whispered in a harsh voice "My name is Celanea Sardothien, Adarlans Assassin."
Dorians eyes widened in comprehension, and then died gazing into the ice blue with golden fleck eyes of Hell itself. As he lay dead to the world, I raised to my steadily to my feet, and walked to the dappled grey horse, cleaning the blood and little pieces of cloth and cloak from the blades. After they were finished, I slipped them into their sheaths and moved to the right of the horse and read the name on the bridle, Jackrabbit. I whispered soothingly to it as I mounted. I was about to ask Jackrabbit to move on, when there was a sharp bark behind me. Jackrabbit spooked, wanted to bolt, but I held him back and faced the owner.
"Fleetfoot!" I whispered, recognising my young four-legged companion. "Where's Nehemia? Seek Nehemia, girl!" I smiled as the young pup immediately spun and raced off into the forest. I turned, following Fleetfoot and the trail began.
Soon, we were back at our makeshift camp, set on the border of the Ironbark forest and about a kilometre from the nearest path towards Adarlan. I pulled Jackrabbit to a sleek halt, and true to his name, he stopped the fast canter we had been traveling in immediately, without hesitation. I could see Fleetfoot was uncertain about something, and I could smell something I had grown up with. The metallic tang and taste of blood. I whistled for Fleet, and she heeled instantly. Jackrabbit stood perfectly fine as Fleet sat beside his left hoof as I scanned around us. I nudged Jackrabbit slightly and he moved forward at a walking pace with Fleetfoot trailing beside us, and all of us trudged around the makeshift camp. We walked a few metres pulling up short at the body. All I could do to stop myself from vomiting was look away, as Jackrabbit snorted and Fleetfoot yelped in anger.
The throat had been torn to shreds, clothes ripped and tattered, the chest had been hacked apart and the insides had been taken out and placed in a neat pile next to the body. The only thing I could recognise about who this person was, were the eyes and the face. The former human, was mine and Fleetfoot's friend and camp-mate: Nehemia. I choked out a sob and fell from the saddle to her side, apologising to her repeatedly. The tears were falling without mercy, dropping like kisses onto Nehemia's cheeks, and slipping down like the morning dew on glass blades. Fleetfoot had come up beside me, her nose pressing into my side whilst pawing gently at Nehemia. Her whine filled the air along side my sobs and apologies. Fleet then licked my arm and I struggled to look at her through the ocean of tears. I could make out the slight shape and colour of a folded up piece of paper rolled around one of her front paws and I took it. I unraveled the paper and read its contents quickly, barely holding my rage.
At the end of the letter, I held in in my hand and glared at it with unhidden hatred boiling in my eyes. I then bent down to Nehemia's head and kissed it gently, thanking her for everything she has done for me during the past years. I then stood up, still with the hatred blazing in my eyes and looked to the moon, and roared my loss, my grief, my pain and love towards the moon. I made sure it was loud enough for Chaol, King Hallivard and everyone else alive that was on my killing list to hear and scare the hell out of them.
When finished, I turned to my companions and nodded. I then whispered to them with unchecked venom in my voice:
"Let's go give the King an early birthday present." I mounted Jackrabbit, calling Fleetfoot and took of galloping towards the path to Adarlan, Fleetfoot at my side, and death shadowing at our heels, promising to come out and play.
Chaol Westfall:
I was riding back to the Glass Castle with the remaining members of the platoon the King sent out, when an earth shattering roar split through the air and the atmosphere around us. It caused the horses to buck and rear in panic, riders falling to the ground, when a cloaked rider astride a familiar dappled grey royal horse came crashing through the forest line, a golden brown dog at their side. I turned my own horse to face the rider on Jackrabbit, when the cloak hood fell, brandishing a familiar silvery blonde hair.
Celaena Sardothien had arrived, and dark death was promised in her eyes.