Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2), стр. 15

As quiet as a church mouse, I climbed onto the floor of the tower. Hearing my sandal striking against a water flask lying on the floor, the guard at the rails whirled to look at me. He started to speak, and I assume to issue a challenge. I put my fingers to my lips to signal he should not talk.

“Quiet, you will awaken our sleeping comrade,” I whispered.

The short sword was already in my hand, held down at my side. I leapt across the floor, clamped a hand across the mouth of the guard, and before he could react, I plunged the tip of the sword into the base of his neck. He attempted to cry out, but only a gurgling sound escaped his wound. As he sagged against the railing, I swiftly withdrew the sword, feeling the man’s blood wet on my hand as I released him and turned. Before he collapsed to the floor, I had already thrown myself astride the sleeping guard.

As before, I clamped my left hand over his mouth as I plunged the blade into the base of his throat. I silently cursed as I felt a spray of his blood on my face. He struggled only a moment before going still. I wasn’t sure he had even known what was happening before he died.

Wiping my blade on his cape, I got to my feet, my pulse pounding in my temples, and my knees weak. Fearing I might fall, I slumped to the floor in a sitting position with my back against the rails, feeling sick inside. I had taken life for the first time. I’d murdered in cold blood two men who had done me no harm. Turning my head, I puked on the floor. For several long moments, I struggled to regain control of my emotions.

Suddenly thirsty, I crawled across the floor and found the water flask I’d almost tripped over earlier. Seizing it, I again leaned against the rails and drank. After some time, I stopped shaking, and my pulse returned to normal. I found some solace knowing that the guards would have happily killed me had they known my intentions.

I had neutralized one watchtower but had another to go before confronting the guards at the gate. Standing up, I looped the strap of the water flask over my neck and shoulder. I’d neglected to bring a bottle with me. Then I went to the ladder and climbed down. Picking up the discarded cape and sword, I made my way along the perimeter to the base of the second tower.

After putting the cape and sword on the ground, I paused to listen. I heard conversation and then laughter coming from the platform above me. I also heard a rattling sound I couldn’t identify. Again, I silently climbed the crude ladder. At the top, I peered over the edge of the opening. Two guards sat cross-legged facing each other. One shook his hand and tossed two dice on the floor. It was the rattling sound I’d heard from below. There was a thick, squat candle burning on the floor beside them. I lifted the strap of the water flask from my neck and shoulder. Holding the flask in my left hand, I climbed the last rungs and stepped boldly onto the platform. Both guards turned to look at me.

“What are you doing here?” one guard said with alarm.

Both got to their feet, thinking an officer had caught them playing dice games while on the watch. Grinning, I held up the flask.

“I’ve brought ale,” I said.

One guard laughed and held out his hands toward me. I tossed the flask to him with my left hand. As he opened it to drink, I swung the rakir in my right hand in a slashing stroke, cutting the throat of the other. The guard with the flask dropped it and reached for his sword. I launched myself into him, driving him back to the rails. Pinning him against the railing with my body, I clamped my left hand over his mouth and drove the sword into his belly at an upward angle to reach his heart. He screamed, but my hand muffled the sound. As he struggled, I twisted the blade until his body went limp. He had freed his sword from the sheath, but it clattered harmlessly to the wooden floor. I released my grip and stepped back. The guard slumped to the floor beside it.

This time, I did not delay. After wiping my rakir on the dead guard’s tunic, I sheathed the short sword and climbed down the ladder. After putting on the cape, I unsheathed the katana and strode along the perimeter of the fence with determination toward the front gate.

I had chosen the order of the watchtowers so I could approach the front gate with the guard hut between me and where I’d observed the gate guards standing during my earlier reconnaissance. As I approached the shelter, I determined from the sound of conversation that both guards remained on the far side of the hut. Taking a deep breath, I moved along the side of the structure and silently worked my way to the corner. Peeking around it, I saw one guard standing with his back to me, but could not see the other for the hut.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the hilt of the katana, then swiftly approached the guard I’d seen with his back to me. Positioning the sword so that the butt of the grip was almost touching my right shoulder, with the blade straight out in front of me, the cutting edge up, I thrust the point into the center of the guard’s neck. I heard the scrape of the sharp steel passing through the slight bones of the spinal column in his neck before the tip of the sword penetrated his throat. He died instantly, his spinal cord severed and collapsed in