Nezzka looks up from his evening meal as the door bangs open, rattling on
the hinges that strain to almost breaking as Shadow strides into the room.
A strange gleam fills his eyes when he notices the fresh bandages on her
arms and legs. Though he smiles, there is no warmth there, and as Shadow
slips in to a chair, the clatter of her sword brings a slight sneer to his
lips.
"You know better than to bring you weapons into my chamber while I dine. How sad that your time away has taken some of the lessons I taught you. Perhaps I shall have to teach you again."
"Never again will you teach me anything. Except this."
Shadow began to relate her encounter with the dark healer, and the strange feeling that had coursed through her at his touch. At first, Nezzka meerly sat and listened, expecting a totally different ending than the one that he got.
"He's my brother, isn't he?" Shadow asked.
Nezzka laughed. It rang cold and harsh in her ears. "You pathetic, simpering wench! You have no family. You murdered your mother as you were born, and you slit your own father's throat. And now you ask if this.this healer is your brother?"
The laughter came again, and brought with it her anger and hatred for him. In a flash her sword was at his throat, pressed hard enough against it that a small trickle slipped down his neck.
"My father murdered my mother, you bastard." She hissed through clenched teeth. "So I repaid him in kind. Now answer my question before I afford you the same taste of my blade!"
Something in her eyes made him stop laughing. He knew she hated him, but this, this was foreign to him. He did not know what it was. And so he answered, his voice just barely above a whisper, though she had no trouble hearing his words.
"All I know is the night Fachon brought you here there were rumors of another. A male child. What happened to him, I didn't care to find out. Fachon would be the one to ask, Shadow."
Shadowfyre drew her blade back, and looked at him. Her hatred never retreating. Yet he had given her what she asked. Easily. Perhaps too easily, her mind told her. He was up to something. Otherwise, why would he tell her that so simply? She didn't like it.
Sheathing her sword, she moved to back out of the room with as much silence as she came in with noise. Nezzka, never taking his eyes from hers quietly slipped his hand down the side of his chair and to the dagger hidden underneath. Just as quietly he slipped it out, and threw it before even a breath had passed. With a shriek of pain, Shadow fell back against the doorframe, the dagger protruding from her shoulder. She snarled at him as she yanked it out and threw it back, but he easily knocked it away.
"That is for disturbing my dinner, you whore."
Shadow's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as the grave.
"Next time, I kill you."
She turned her back on him and walked out the door.
"You know better than to bring you weapons into my chamber while I dine. How sad that your time away has taken some of the lessons I taught you. Perhaps I shall have to teach you again."
"Never again will you teach me anything. Except this."
Shadow began to relate her encounter with the dark healer, and the strange feeling that had coursed through her at his touch. At first, Nezzka meerly sat and listened, expecting a totally different ending than the one that he got.
"He's my brother, isn't he?" Shadow asked.
Nezzka laughed. It rang cold and harsh in her ears. "You pathetic, simpering wench! You have no family. You murdered your mother as you were born, and you slit your own father's throat. And now you ask if this.this healer is your brother?"
The laughter came again, and brought with it her anger and hatred for him. In a flash her sword was at his throat, pressed hard enough against it that a small trickle slipped down his neck.
"My father murdered my mother, you bastard." She hissed through clenched teeth. "So I repaid him in kind. Now answer my question before I afford you the same taste of my blade!"
Something in her eyes made him stop laughing. He knew she hated him, but this, this was foreign to him. He did not know what it was. And so he answered, his voice just barely above a whisper, though she had no trouble hearing his words.
"All I know is the night Fachon brought you here there were rumors of another. A male child. What happened to him, I didn't care to find out. Fachon would be the one to ask, Shadow."
Shadowfyre drew her blade back, and looked at him. Her hatred never retreating. Yet he had given her what she asked. Easily. Perhaps too easily, her mind told her. He was up to something. Otherwise, why would he tell her that so simply? She didn't like it.
Sheathing her sword, she moved to back out of the room with as much silence as she came in with noise. Nezzka, never taking his eyes from hers quietly slipped his hand down the side of his chair and to the dagger hidden underneath. Just as quietly he slipped it out, and threw it before even a breath had passed. With a shriek of pain, Shadow fell back against the doorframe, the dagger protruding from her shoulder. She snarled at him as she yanked it out and threw it back, but he easily knocked it away.
"That is for disturbing my dinner, you whore."
Shadow's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as the grave.
"Next time, I kill you."
She turned her back on him and walked out the door.