The blood squished and oozed between her fingers as pieces of a skull that had long been buried stuck jagged in her hand. She stared into the empty eye sockets as she pushed herself up to her feet. It took a moment before reality hit her again. Fire and smoke surrounded the desert that occupied the death and carnage.
Blasts shook her from her feet as she fell face first into the blood-stained sand. With her non-injured hand, she got to her feet and tried to shake the ringing from her head.
"Must get to the King," she walked through the sand, half falling, half dead to the battle that was going on around her. "I must not make him wait any longer."
She unsheathed her daggers from her waist satchel and held one gingerly and defensively as step by step she pushed her way through the sand. Her dark green eyes scanned the horizon for enemies. As she saw none, she pulled her black shawl over her face and kept her daggers hidden under the excess piece of shawl that fell over her arms.
Her crimson red hair was cut off at the shoulders as her red leather pants was tucked into brown military boots and a blue cotton shirt hung snug around her toned frame.
"Must get to the King." this time her voice shook. Not from cold or terror but out of worry of failure. Her pace quickened now as blasts and laughter went off around her, moving closer.
"Boom!" The blast again shook her from her feet as she fell onto her back and sank into the sand. Blood crept down her legs. She touched and felt her legs. Her own blood. But how? Then she saw it. A shadow dancing through the desert moving closer toward her.
"Too quick for you lass," the shadow flashed his sword at her licking his lips. "Oh did that hurt? I will be sure to kill you next time."
She struggled to her feet as the blood flowed down her legs and colored the sand below her feet. A dagger flew from her hand as it made its way toward the shadow, but he saw it coming and rolled out of the way. She was right back on him running as her other dagger glistened in the fire light. She plunged the dagger toward his chest, but he parlayed it and used the momentum to tackle her and slice at her arms.
Frantically she pushed and kicked him off her. She felt a sharp pain rise in her arm and looked to see his sword plunged deep into her right arm, pinning her to the sand.
With her free hand, she scurried to pry the sword free as the shadow rushed his way toward her, already another sword ready to kill her. She kicked the shadow in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. She took this time to continue to free the sword from her arm as the shadow rolled through the sand trying to reclaim his balance.
As quick as lightning, the shadow bounced back onto his feet and continued his death strike onto her. He jumped into the air and prepared his sword for her chest. He flew down, sword plunged until the sound of flesh was heard ripping apart. He smiled.
The shadow fell onto his back exhausted. His breathing got harder and shorter. Pain shot through his entire body. The sand beneath him became cold and wet. A light breeze blew loose sand over the shadow, but he embraced it as the coldness enveloped his entire body.
He closed his eyes and felt the life escape him as quickly and silently as his breathing. A whisper escaped his lips, "You have not seen the last of Cahn."
The crimson haired girl watched the shadow's lifeless form become buried in the desert in front of her. Exhaustion overwhelmed her as she struggled to her feet. Blood covered her face and hands as she got to her feet and spit in the sand where Cahn once lay.
"You have met the wrath of Monsa and lost." She smirked as she pulled her shawl over her mouth and limped away as she sheathed her remaining dagger.
The sand began to rise in the gray sky as the wind danced with it. Sand tornadoes formed around Monsa as she grumbled under her breath. Her eyes darted around the desert for any reprieve from the harsh sands. Her eyes settled onto ruins a thousand yards from where she stood.
She got to the ruins and began to undo her dagger from her belt and placed it against a wall. Monsa took a few moments to assess her surroundings. The ruins were only a few feet tall, but the blackness stopped her from observing deeper into the ruins. The rumble of rocks falling deeper in the ruins echoed to Monsa. The coolness of the ruin walls helped ease her wounds as she tore pieces of her shawl to tourniquet around her arm and leg where she was injured with the sword.
Darkness started to fall over the desert as the sand storms showed no signs of slowing down. With her wounds tended to, Monsa felt sleep pressure her. She leaned against the slab of wall and drifted in and out of sleep.
Rocks continued to fall and echo throughout the ruins as a pair of eyes watched her sleep and then slithered into the darkness.
Monsa grumbled and groaned as she lifted herself up from the hard rock surface. Her bones and muscles ached with stiffness as she yawned and stretched. Dried blood covered her hand and legs, as she gingerly limped out of the ruins.
Sunlight blinded her as her eyes adjusted. Monsa stepped into a puddle as her eyes scanned the horizon. The sandstorm was gone as a light mist filled the air. Whistling winds calmly blew across the wasteland as Monsa let the sounds fill her up.
Her thoughts again went to the King. She was late for their meeting and she hated being late. As an assassin, she was always early and if she was on time then she was already late. Now her injuries would slow her down and cost more time.
Damn it!
Monsa couldn't afford to waste more time. She knew where she had to go. To the Northeast toward Ryeshire Castle. That was where the King was waiting.
The sand fell to mid boot as she limped through the wasteland. Monsa made her way around the ruins where she had spent the night. There Monsa gingerly climbed up a ledge. It was slick from loose rocks, but she found her footing. She placed her back against the stone ruins as she side stepped an inch at a time. The slow process was the only way around the ruins.
Monsa made her way off the ruins and into a jagged clearing. Loose rocks tumbled down the steep edge of the cliff that sat next to Monsa. She glanced down as with every step more rocks slid down. The clearing was wide enough for Monsa to move around comfortably but the proximity to the edge of the cliff was more than Monsa was willing to bargain with.
She faced the edge of the cliff as she made her way through the clearing. Her wounds still ached but the bleeding had stopped. The pace was too slow to her liking. As an assassin, she was used to getting to places quickly, but the shadow did more damage to her than she was expecting.
Monsa trekked deeper into the clearing as the jagged rocks made their way to a canopy of trees. Overhanging branches took over the sky as the sun tried to fight its way through the canopy.
The shadows of the trees caused Monsa to shiver slightly. She wrapped her arms around her body to try and stay warm. She saw the sunlight shine brightly in front of her which told her the forest wasn't going to take long to traverse.
Various demon animals kept their glowing eyes on her as she made her way through the forest. A low growl escaped the dense forest around her. Monsa withdrew her dagger as the growling got louder. She barely had time to jump to her right as a demon wolf leaped out of the brush.
The wolf's sharp teeth were visible as it snarled at Monsa. She bared her dagger at the wolf as the two circled each other in the middle of the forest. Another growl and the wolf crouched, waiting to strike. The strike came. Monsa was ready.
The demon wolf snapped at air as Monsa dodged the attack. The beast didn't stop. It kept coming after Monsa. Her wounds slowed her down, but she was fast enough as she parried the wolf's every move. Her left leg was victim of the wolf's jaw as the wolf bit down and started to tear through the skin.
Monsa screamed and blindly stabbed the dagger in the direction of the wolf. She missed but scared the demon wolf enough that it let go. She stumbled in pain and limped to her left to put the wolf in front of her again.
Her advantage came when the demon wolf jumped at her throat. Monsa threw up her dagger and rolled her head to the side as the dagger pierced the demon's heart. The weight of the wolf on top of her caused her to fall to the dirt.
Still weak from her wounds, both old and new, she struggled to push the beast off her. Sweating and bleeding, she groaned as she clasped the wolf under its front legs and pushed it off. Monsa laid in the dirt for a few minutes, collecting her breath.
She found the strength to get herself up. Monsa could barely stand as her leg was numb and bleeding. Dragging her injured leg, she kept her eyes on the bright sunlight as she made her way out of the forest.
Monsa was in open plains as the sunlight warmed her body up. The walls of the castle sat five hundred yards in front of her. Once she reached the castle her real mission began.