Chapter 9: Deception
Katarina's body filled with the overwhelming sensation of death. This was certainly nothing new, though the space she occupied held a strange weightlessness, an ethereal quality that gave her ascending mind a moment of pause. Where was she? How had she gotten there? Surely, there had been a battle, but her recollection was fading…
She sat in contemplation as the feeling of death continued to spread through her being – for, by now, her body had already been left far behind. A familiar series of bright lights flashed before her eyes in a direction she could only vaguely distinguish as "up."
Somewhere in her instinctual memory, the assassin waited for the familiar jolt, for the pull of summoning to call her back to the body she had left behind, but it did not happen. Her being remained, a cold specter, observing the slow formation of the distorted lights in front of her. They were forming pictures, this she was certain, though she felt so removed from the emerging images, as if she stood an impossible distance away.
Yet still, the images held a vague familiarity…the longer Katarina watched, the more she began to recognize. The hulking stone steps of the Institute of War flickered before her, a ghostly image in dull coloring. She was at the League, but not on the Fields of Justice. Moreover, she still remained aware of her lack of corporeality.
She had little time to wonder where her body was before another figure began to form among the mists.
Details were difficult to distinguish at first, but Katarina detected a shock of white spread across the stone steps of the Institute. Confused, she attempted to get closer to the sight, but found herself at a loss as to how to move in the strange world. Quickly, however, her efforts proved to be pointless as the image came into focus and she realized who she was looking at.
Ashe lay still on the steps of the Institute, her body curled in on itself, her cowl pulled down low to conceal as much of her face as possible. On the stone surrounding her, tiny rivers of crimson met one another, a shocking contrast to the white of her hair that peaked out in disarray from under the cowl. From a distance, Katarina couldn't tell whether the woman was breathing or not.
She tried to open her mouth to call to her, but found herself voiceless as well. An eternity passed as she watched the Frost Archer, a feeling of helpless washing over her being as the woman lay completely still.
She had no idea how much time had passed before a booming voice rang out, unnaturally close, given her distance. Another figure began to form from the lights, rapidly approaching the steps where Ashe lay. As the image cleared, Tryndamere emerged from inside the doors of the Institute, coming to a halt at the top of the steps. Even from so far away, Katarina could see the look of disgust on his face as he stared down at his wife.
"Get up!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the strange, heavy air.
Ashe did not move.
The barbarian shook with anger and clambered down the steps, stopping on the one right above her unmoving figure. "I said get up!" he roared again, planting a hard kick in the center of Ashe's chest that shook her entire body and turned the air that surrounded Katarina into a red haze.
"GET UP!"
His voice rang repeatedly, as did his blows, as the assassin fought with all of her strength against the environment that held her in place, a faceless, bodiless spirit who could only observe the sight before her.
"Get up!"
"GET UP!"
Get up.
The command startled Katarina out of her deep sleep and back to reality, where she was lying alone on a familiar yet strikingly out of place stone platform. Baffled, the assassin took a few seconds to take in her surroundings, as clear and real as anything else. Her eyes landed on the tiny shopkeeper, who stared down at the Noxian with raised eyebrows.
Katarina realized several things at once. She had been dreaming. She was now in Summoner's Rift. She had somehow been summoned there in the middle of sleep, a feat which should have been impossible. There was a voice…not the shopkeeper's, not Tryndamere's. But who –
Good morning, said the voice again, echoing through her thoughts and sparking flashes of annoyance and disbelief in Katarina's mind. Raina.
What do you think you're doing? She demanded of her summoner, who seemed taken aback by Katarina's animosity.
Did I not tell you that I would be summoning you before the next tournament match?
The assassin swore under her breath at the girl's foolish hope. It's traditional to wait until a champion wakes up, she thought rudely. In fact, it's not only traditional, it's a requirement. How did you manage to get me here while I slept?
Raina brushed off the question, ignoring it as if she hadn't heard. Katarina's suspicions quickly melted away, replaced by the sudden, powerful compulsion to purchase items from the shopkeeper. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable action until she realized that it had been Raina's silent command. Instantly, the anger returned as the assassin shook her head vigorously, severing the link between them.
"I'll kill you if you try that again," she growled to the open air. Her mind remained silent.
Slowly, the assassin let out a breath, expelling the lingering panic that shrouded her consciousness from the dream she'd just been pulled out of. She would not allow herself to contemplate the subject, not now.
After a moment, she began to head down the center lane, maintaining constant vigilance of her own thoughts. How could an apprentice summoner like Raina break through her memories with such quiet ease, or summon her even while even while she slept? Was she losing that much control over herself?
And that dream…
She banished the thought and forced her mind, with great effort, to the battle at hand. Clearly, this match was only for practice, but who would be waiting for her on the other side? She anticipated a one-on-one duel, but was it safe to assume even that, given what Raina was putting her through?
Katarina crouched beneath her turret, coiled like a spring as the announcer declared that the minions were on their way. She took hold of her training, letting the soothing effect of an upcoming battle calm her nerves. Whatever the circumstances were, she would fight to the best of her ability.
She watched as the minions passed her and charged into battle, fighting with the usual soulless brutality. She searched among the crowd, looking for the sight of another champion.
There. A flicker of gold appeared, the only signal Katarina was given before a pair of dark eyes locked with her own, causing her to stiffen. She had thought she was well out of sight. Suddenly, her brain caught up with her, and she realized who she was looking at with a certain sense of dread.
LeBlanc separated herself from the crowd of minions and began to strike down the stragglers with her staff, breaking eye contact with Katarina, who slid out from under the turret and rose to meet her opponent. She knew enough about LeBlanc's style to know that the fight was going to be difficult and quite painful.
Disregarding the minions for the time being, the assassin gripped her knives and moved around the outside of LeBlanc's range, watching as the other woman casually blasted minions with her staff. The Deceiver was an exceptionally powerful force, and would only grow stronger as time wore on. Katarina had felt the burns of her magic and hated them, hated her. The woman was practically untouchable, yet one single moment was all it took to reduce her opponent to dust.
Still, it would not be impossible to beat her. The woman was strong, difficult to catch, but very easily wounded. Once her spells wore out, she was useless. Assuming that Katarina could withstand the blinding pain of her magic, she would emerge on top.
As if on cue, LeBlanc's calculating eyes saw Katarina take one step too close, and a blinding yellow orb exploded in the assassin's face. Immediately, she threw a knife into the unbearable light, aiming for the afterimage of LeBlanc's figure that was burned on the inside of her eyelids.
When the light faded, Katarina saw LeBlanc several feet away from where she had stood, smirking at her, surrounded by a circle of bright light on the ground that quickly dissipated. She had teleported to dodge the poorly-thrown knife and seemed to laugh internally at the assassin's foolishness.
The pain that spread through Katarina's body was familiar, and yet agonizing. LeBlanc's magic worked in bizarre ways. Although her body registered the burning and the feeling of her flesh pulling away from her body…nothing looked amiss. Her skin was not marred by burns, nor was it torn. She looked just as she did when she had entered the Fields, and yet her body felt the physical torment of the woman's spells.
The Deceiver was a master at what she did – so much so that her opponents literally disintegrated, simply ceased to be, because of the overwhelming illusion of pain. Still, though Katarina knew the pain wasn't 'real,' her body could not disregard the intense sensation, and she grit her teeth as she staggered back, far out of range of the golden mage.
"Surprised to see me?" called LeBlanc with a sly grin, eyes trained on the assassin, who said nothing in response as the opposing minions continued to wage war on each other. Though Katarina's body still felt slightly groggy due to her rude awakening, she still watched the battle with calculating eyes. She knew she would have to strike soon – waiting until the mage had obtained more power was not a good idea.
Ignoring the lingering pain from the illusionary magic, Katarina removed another blade from her belt and hurled it at the crowd of opposing minions, watching as it bounced between their heads and finally buried into LeBlanc's left side. Acting quickly, the mage ripped the dagger from the wound, but the damage was done. The assassin followed up the attack by teleporting to her opponent's side, wincing as another painful ball of light erupted right in front of her. Though the light blinded her, she still felt the other woman to her left, and smirked in satisfaction when her blade again sank into flesh. From her close proximity, she was able to hear the woman gasp in pain before her form dissipated instantly. The light again faded and Katarina's eyes locked on to the mage, now several feet away and badly wounded.
"Feel that?" she taunted, "My brand of pain is actually real."
LeBlanc straightened, pulling away the hand that had involuntarily moved to clutch the dark stain the spread across her side. "Just because something is an illusion does not make it unreal, Sinister Blade."
As she spoke, her words seemed to dance across Katarina's skin, further inflaming the already agonizing sensations. The assassin felt her body give several rough tremors, but she resisted any other indication that she was in pain, including the overwhelming urge to inspect her body for damage. She already knew she'd find none.
Gritting her teeth, she again returned to the slow circles she'd been making around the Deceiver, searching for another weakness. Dark eyes watched every move she made; in their depths, the assassin saw the occasional shimmers of unnaturally bright gold. They unnerved Katarina to no end. She felt as if, beneath the flickering golden irises, the woman was seeing far more of her than simply her physical form. For several seconds, the mage held the assassin in her hypnotic gaze, offering only a haughty smile.
The attack was incredibly sudden.
Katarina hadn't even seen the eyes move closer to her, hadn't realized that she was once again in the line of fire until LeBlanc was instantly directly in front of her, casting her staff aside and raising her hands into the air. Illusionary chains burst from her fingertips like hungry serpents, twisting around Katarina before the assassin could react in time. More unnatural pain exploded across her skin on contact, and though she struggled fiercely, she was bound in place. Still, her gaze had never left LeBlanc's, who gave a gentle smirk as she raised her hand again to blast Katarina with another ball of light that would surely kill her.
The assassin inhaled sharply in the milliseconds she had, and felt the chains loosen just slightly. They fell away completely as she disintegrated into nothing and drove a long blade directly through the fragile woman's shoulder blades, sending the tip bursting out of her chest in a spray of blood.
Life instantly released its hold on the mage, and she fell uselessly to the ground. Katarina nearly fell down right beside her, but managed to maintain her dignity.
Well done, said Raina, her thoughts carrying a hint of surprise.
"Get me the fuck out of here," snarled Katarina in reply.
The summoner was unpleasantly surprised at the assassin's command. I didn't believe you were a quitter-
"Now!" she roared right before a hastily-cast summoning spell came upon her, effectively pulling Katarina from the match. She appeared on the familiar stone platform, the pain from LeBlanc's spells mercifully gone as the mage herself stood on the other side, a slight smirk in place. The lingering urge to kill faded, overshadowed by a burning anger as Katarina turned to face the summoner platform, her eyes narrowing on Raina.
The summoner had no time to prepare before the assassin was on her, one fist closed around the neck of her robes, lifting the small girl into the air effortlessly. She gasped and squirmed, trying to pry Katarina's hand from her throat, but her grip was stronger than iron.
"Stop fidgeting and listen to me," growled the assassin in warning before Raina fell limp in her grip like a subservient kitten in the jaws of its mother. "I don't know how on Earth you managed to summon me in my sleep, or why you insist on weaseling your way into my mind, but if you try anything like that again –"
"Du Couteau."
A stern voice interrupted the woman's tirade, and a summoner in flowing white robes approached her, face concealed beneath a hood. "Violence is strictly prohibited off the Fields of Justice. You know this." His tone made it sound as if he were scolding a disobedient child, which only served to anger the assassin. Her grip on Raina's robes did not loosen.
"Release her," commanded the man.
Katarina unclenched her fist, and the girl fell to the ground in a heap at her feet. The man shook his head but otherwise said nothing as he turned to leave. Slowly, Raina returned to her feet, and that was when Katarina realized that something was missing.
"Where's the other summoner?" she asked, looking around the large stone platform.
"You must have scared him off with your little temper tantrum," said LeBlanc from behind her. Katarina faced the mage, observing with some satisfaction the large patches of crimson that marred her golden cape.
Still, she was confused. It was true that she had been distracted by her rage after the match, but she couldn't recall seeing another summoner on the platform beside Raina. She directed her attention back to the girl, but she was already leaving, rubbing the hip that she had landed on when Katarina dropped her.
"Good luck in the tournament," said LeBlanc, footsteps echoing as she departed. "I expect you to bring glory to Noxus." Something about her tone struck Katarina, as if the woman was mocking her, but then, no one had ever accused the Deceiver of being sincere before. By the time the assassin had turned around to snap a retort, LeBlanc had already vanished.
Katarina shook her head vehemently to clear it, trying to block out her rather perplexing morning. She settled for a quick, violent curse of the young girl who'd once again disrupted her before heading back to her room, muttering the whole way.
As soon as Katarina's door opened, a loud shriek sounded, startling her into alertness. A knife found its way into her outstretched fist before the door even had time to hit the wall. Another beat passed before Katarina registered the source of the sound as a familiar black raven perched on the windowsill, staring at her with distrust. The assassin scoffed and lowered her knife, glaring at the bird.
"Good fucking morning," she grumbled to herself.
Once the two had spent a moment establishing their mutual dislike for each other, Beatrice gave another loud squawk, holding out her left leg to punctuate the unfortunate noise. Katarina's eyes fell to the small piece of paper encircling the raven's ankle.
Sighing, she crossed to the window, hands outstretched to take the paper. As she did so, the raven leaned away from her, wearing an expression that was as close to disgust as a bird could get. "I'm not so thrilled about this either," growled the assassin as she held the animal steady long enough to detach the tiny scroll. The moment she was free, Beatrice yanked her foot away and gave an ungodly screech, firing herself out of the window at blinding speed. Katarina took a step back at the bird's frantic flapping, watching her depart with mild amusement. Hopefully Swain was not expecting a reply.
Her attention shifted to the tiny paper in her hands. It seemed too small to be anything too official. Curiously, she unrolled the tiny scroll and read, in perfectly elegant letters:
Eat something.
"Fuck you, Swain."
Katarina tore the paper in half, then in half again, scattering the pieces outside of her window before she pulled it shut with a loud 'slam' that left the walls vibrating. She was so full of spite that she failed to acknowledge the hunger that gnawed in her stomach. Doing so would only mean that the general had been right.
She fell back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, pulling off her belt of knives. Slowly, she began the long process of examining and sharpening each one. As she worked, her thoughts wandered back to the note.
Swain's attempts at being fatherly always served to piss her off. He knew it, though he continued to taunt her with little requests or off-hand concerns as to her well-being. Though it was true that the man had watched her grow up, she couldn't help but feel some resentment about his attitude towards her – an attitude that had only gotten stronger since the disappearance of her father. There had been moments between them, heated fights and Katarina's repeated assurances that Swain could never replace Marcus Du Couteau. Still, nothing she said ever seemed to faze the man.
By the time Katarina had finished sharpening each one of her knives, enough time had passed that she felt justified in getting food without feeling as though she was following Swain's order. She slid her knives back into place and left the room, heading for the dining hall.
On the way, she passed Talon, who fell into step beside her.
"Sinister Blade," he acknowledged respectfully with a slight nod of his head.
"Talon," she replied simply.
"I need to speak with General Swain. Have you seen him?"
His words nearly made her stop short, but she hid her surprise well. Swain had certainly highlighted the need for secrecy quite explicitly when he'd told her about his departure, but she hadn't anticipated the true depth of that secrecy. Even Talon was unaware? Was she supposed to tell him? She deliberated for a moment before deciding against it – if Talon was meant to know, he would already have known.
"Locked in his room. He hasn't come out in awhile and I doubt he will any time soon," she lied easily. "But you're welcome to report to me."
The man seemed to consider her words as he continued to follow her into the dining hall. Katarina figured he wasn't very likely to say anything to her, but after a minute, he surprised her with a low whisper. "Do you have any idea what he's planning?"
The assassin shook her head in response as she gathered her food.
"I have a feeling we won't be in the League much longer," he continued, turning his attention away from her as he took in the crowd. From the corner of her eye, Katarina followed his gaze, observing a few of the groups that sat at the tables: a crowd of Demacian summoners, a few of the Ionian champions, a large collection of Yordles chattering excitedly. Talon's face remained neutral as he made his own observations, but Katarina could sense his disdain. "And what a welcome change that will be," he muttered under his breath.
Katarina quirked a brow at his response. How unlike him to reveal his thoughts.
Talon met her gaze. "Do you not feel the same?"
"Explain," she demanded.
He smirked, following her as she brought her food to a nearby table. "Don't tell me you haven't felt as I do," he threw another sweeping glance at the room around them. "Our talents are wasted here."
Katarina considered his words. "There isn't a lot of room for trained assassins in peacetime," she said. "This is one of the few that remains."
"I imagine your father would disagree," came the calm reply, and Katarina froze, fixing him with a hardened stare that he returned. "Swain questions my loyalty," said Talon. It was not a question.
"Does that surprise you?"
He shook his head. "I believe I've made my position quite clear. I came to the League in search of General Du Couteau."
The tension between the two thickened as Katarina's eyes narrowed. "Yet you follow Swain."
"As do you."
Anger flared within the woman, but she kept her voice low. "My loyalty is not in question. I serve Noxus, as did my father."
"As do I."
"When it suits your needs," corrected Katarina.
The man leaned back in his chair as he spoke. "And why should my motivation be of concern, when the end result is the same? Here I am, one of Noxus' faithful servants, regardless."
No wonder Swain didn't choose him, Katarina thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "You are a trained killer. Your motivation is everything. I'm certain my father would have taught you that lesson."
"And what motivates you, Sinister Blade?" he asked, leaning forward once again and causing the woman to glower in annoyance.
"I told you. I serve Noxus."
Talon gave a gentle smirk before echoing her previous remark. "Yet you follow Swain."
Losing the rest of her patience, Katarina threw her hands on the table and leaned dangerously close to the other assassin. "I follow Noxus. And you of all people should think twice before criticizing your superior, especially when you yourself have a history of whimpering like a pup at your master's feet."
"Is that what I am to you?" he asked. "Your father's attack dog?"
Katarina let her silence answer the question for her.
Talon shifted in his chair, evidently uncomfortable by the woman's proximity. "I always considered you to be more than that. You're his daughter in so many ways, you know."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" she questioned, eyes narrowing to murderous slits.
"Whatever you want it to mean," Talon replied, standing up from his chair and giving a slight nod of acknowledgement to his superior. "But do know this, Sinister Blade: despite your ranking, I have watched you carefully."
"Remember your place, Talon," Katarina growled in warning. "I don't need your eyes on me."
"I say so little to you that I thought, perhaps, it was worth mentioning," he said by way of dismissal as he left Katarina to her lunch.
The assassin shoved her plate away, suddenly losing her appetite. She had certainly never gotten along with Talon particularly well, but the very idea of him watching her made the Noxian want to shove the man's head through a wall.
The mental image was strangely comforting, bringing a very slight smile to the assassin's lips. Still dreaming of possible ways to cause the man bodily harm, she picked up the food she'd hardly touched and stood to throw it away.
As she walked, a flash of white in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and her eyes met those of the Frost Archer. The smile faded as her dream last night came rushing back to her. She took a moment to remind herself that the images she had witnessed in the dream had not actually transpired. Ashe's gaze never faltered. She stood off to the side, far removed from the rest of the dining hall, her expression unreadable. Still, the assassin got the distinct impression that she was being read, as if the other woman was aware of the images in her head. The feeling vanished as soon as the archer lowered her cowl, effectively breaking eye contact. Still, Katarina continued to stare.
As she watched, another figure walked into her field of vision, and she stiffened at the sight of the barbarian summoner from the day before. There was too much of Tryndamere in the boy's features. Still, the look on his face was a mixture of reverence and genuine friendliness, distinguishing him from the barbarian Katarina had originally envisioned.
He approached Ashe with a respectful bow, and the woman turned her back on Katarina in order to face him. He was speaking animatedly about something, and she was nodding politely in response. Curiosity burned within the assassin, though she could not say why. Before she had too much of a chance to wonder what the man was saying to his queen, he began to lead her out of the hall.
Katarina swore under her breath, resisting the urge to follow them. She wasn't one to put stock in dreams, but the images from the ghostly replica of the Institute, coupled with the remembrance of the scratch on Ashe's cheek from the night before were making the woman suddenly uneasy.
"Sinister Blade?" asked a voice from behind her, and she took care to not show any outward signs of surprise as she turned to face the summoner who had approached her.
"What do you want?" she asked sharply, eying his neutral white robes.
"I have been selected to inform you that the next tournament round will be fought a few hours from now. You were one of the champions chosen to compete."
Katarina quirked a brow at his statement. "Another advanced notice?" she said skeptically. "Am I to believe you this time?" Despite her words, she knew that she would be fighting no matter what, due to Raina's presence in the tournament.
The man nodded his head. "We recognize that recent matches have not gone according to plan. In order to avoid confusion, we spoke to the competing summoners beforehand. They have agreed on all terms set. They have completed the draft, and nothing will be changed now."
The annoyance that Katarina initially felt at the thought of being so controlled by the summoning procedures faded as something clicked within her head, and she realized that the barbarian summoner must have been informing Ashe.
"I'm against Freljord?"
The man gave another nod. "The opposing teams for this battle are Freljord and Noxus."