The Killing Grounds Read online

  A2 blabbed on for some time defending the long range method of killing, and completely missing the point of the question because he was still trying to defend himself against Alara’s comments from the last set of questions. Lord Pitt let him finish his line of thought before speaking. “A2 does it irk you so much that a female can be as good as a male that you missed the point of my question entirely? I suggest that if you want to stay A2, that you keep your snake in its cage and answer my questions with the big head and not the small one.”

  “Yes Lord,” he said sounding dismayed, “would you please repeat the question Lord?” Alara looked toward Black who was slowly shaking his head in disapproval.

  “I certainly will not!” Lord Pitt said. He crossed the room so quickly that Alara’s eyes could hardly keep up. He smashed a textbook into the side of A2’s head which bounced off the desk three times before coming to rest. “A1 you may take A2 to the infirmary if you wish.”

  Gideon looked sideways at the unconscious boy, “I think he looks quite comfortable where he is Lord Pitt.” Several of the boys towards the back began to snigger at Gideon’s comment, but he turned and shot them a fearsome look. He’d pulled out a knife from his belt and held it in a throwing position. The sniggering stopped immediately and was replaced by silence. Alara hadn’t noticed how Gideon’s eyes came to life when he was in motion. She liked that dangerous glint and she imagined running her hand along his jaw line and kissing his cheek, what the hell! she shouted internally, get your mind back in the game girl!

  “Indeed he does A1.” Lord Pitt opened the floor to suggestions, “Does any other poor soul want to take a guess?” Hands flew up around the room, and as apprentice after apprentice stuck to the mechanical reasoning Alara grew frustrated. It was obvious that Lord Pitt wanted another answer, but her classmates continued to say the same thing in different ways. Lord Pitt was getting more and more annoyed, and as much as Alara wanted to see him punish another of the class, she wanted to move onto another subject quickly, so decided to answer in a different fashion and held up her hand. “Yes Twenty-four?”

  “Lord Pitt, if I may be so bold as to offer another solution. This time I mean it as a mere observation and not an insult to the rest of the class.” She didn’t care about the rest of the class, but Lord Pitt was a man, and even though she knew her comment would alienate her from some of her classmates, she didn’t want to lose the small respect that Lord Pitt had shown towards her. Gideon and Black turned to face her and amazingly both were smiling at her.

  “Continue Twenty-four,” Lord Pitt commanded.

  “A sniper assassin would need a spotter sir and a close-up kill wouldn’t, which leads to the argument that the majority of male assassins liked to work in the safety of groups, whereas the female assassins preferred their own company and relied on their own skills.”

  “Precisely Twenty-four!” Lord Pitt said nodding. “Continue.”

  She thought for a moment, “An argument could be made that more hands make light work and that two minds are better than one, but the argument can also be made that a sniper was only as good as his spotter. An assassin should have been able to work independently from a group and not rely on others. Relationships occur within groups and emotions become relevant and emotions lead to doubt and doubt is the enemy of all assassins. The female assassins were singular in thought and worked without the distraction of anyone else’s emotions.”

  Several conversations started up around the room, the three girls were arguing with several boys that sat around them. “Your opinion holds water Twenty-four, maybe you should be sitting with the A’s?” Gideon and Black were both nodding at her. “The use of spotters often had a negative effect during the war and when the Guild was recognised at the end of the war they outlawed the use of spotters. They were only reintroduced when the bounty system was put into place some twenty years later. Spotters now work independently of the assassins and have zero say in retirements. In most cases they are second-class citizens,” he took a breath and continued. “Although no credits are to be awarded during this class it will be noted,” he looked toward Gideon who had turned back to face the tutor, “that Twenty-four’s deductions are well ahead of the rest of the class and that more than one member of this class would be well advised to seek her Council.”

  “It is noted Lord Pitt,” Gideon said.

  As Lord Pitt launched into another area of discussion Alara relaxed into her chair, feeling more confident within the group. Her comments had definitely alienated some of her classmates, but she’d gained the acknowledgment and agreement of both Gideon and Black and that mattered more to her than just fitting in with the rest. When the lesson ended Alara waited for the rest of the class to leave the room before her. The three girls were first out of the door, but Black had hung back and he motioned her to stay seated. “Meet me in the gym at ten this evening and don’t be late,” he said and left the room.

  The rest of the day went by without anyone else speaking to her directly, several of the boys had taken verbal digs at her along the way, but she refused to enter into a conversation with them and remained aloof to their bickering. She’d gone back to Lord Osari’s rooms but he had not yet returned. As promised she lit a fire in the hearth and left it burning to welcome him home. Alara kept to herself throughout dinner, but constantly searched the mess hall for signs of Black. Her plan was to follow him back to the gym and attempt to engage him in casual conversation, but his absence made that impossible.

  The minute hand on the clock slowly ticked toward ten and she found herself getting excited at the thought of the rendezvous. It would take her a few minutes to get to the gym and she left it as late as possible before leaving. Only three remained when she made her move toward the exit and one was the incumbent A2 who watched her like a hawk as she left.

  The corridors were empty so she stopped and checked the notice board, all references to Wheezy had been removed and a new list had been posted, she was pleased to see her name at position twenty-four. The names of those listed below hers were now in red ink with the words “external bounty available” next to each. She would need to cash in on some of those if she were to make her way up the list. As she neared the gym her heart rate increased with anticipation, she knew that Black wouldn’t have called her there for her retirement, she was out of the danger area and the existing thirty-one day truce was still in effect. She reached the door and listened for any sound of movement within, but only silence greeted her. She reached out with her mind trying to feel for Black's presence. He hadn’t kept his Artistic abilities a secret, but every time she tried to scan him she had met resistance. She came across the same resistance when she searched the gym area and knew he was inside already waiting on her arrival. She slipped into the room and saw Black standing in the centre of the room, a single spotlight illuminated the area around him and the rest of the room was in total darkness. He gestured for her to come and join him and as she walked she reached out with her mind again, not to contact him but to feel that resistance. Spells left their own mark much like a mental fingerprint and no two Artists were the same, they were most commonly called spell scents. She mentally filed away the feeling of Black’s barrier, she would be able to sense if he was around in future, and he would have done the exact same.

  “Good evening Du Preeze,” he said a little too formally for Alara’s likes.

  “Good evening A3.”

  He looked her up and down and Alara felt like an ant under a microscope as he mentally scanned her, should she let him in? No, she decided, if he wanted to connect with her he would have to work harder than that. He stood statue-still in front of her. “I have been instructed to assist you in advancing your Artistic skills,” he said matter-of-factly. She thought about the statement for a while and opened her mouth to ask a question but Black raised a finger and continued, “Unfortunately this isn’t open to discussion.”

  Unfortunately for whom? she wondered.

  “So far you’ve sh
own that you have limited use of the Arts, and members of the Council have instructed me to make an assessment of your abilities. Understood Du Preeze?”

  “Yes A3.”

  “Do you concede to this course of action?”

  She hated the way he was always so formal, “Yes.”

  “Don’t bother asking me whose instructions these are or question the method, just do what is asked, understood?”

  “Yes A3.” She’d passed all the tests so far, and at least this one was to be on her mental abilities rather than her limited skill with a blade.

  Black moved aside, Mousy was sitting in a chair behind him. He had been blindfolded and gagged, his hands were tied behind the chair and his legs were held fast by handcuffs. Even though her heart was beating hard inside of her chest cavity she made sure that her face showed no emotion and that her mental barrier was firmly in place. She looked at Black for instruction.

  “Scan him and tell me what you feel.”

  She relaxed and let her mind enter his, she expected to find sheer panic and stress but instead she found calmness and peace. She delved deeper and detected signs of the Arts, so she pulled back quickly not wanting to take the chance on this being a trap. “He’s been mentally restrained.”

  “Indeed, it seemed unfair to let him go through this in his normal state of timidity. Those puppy eyes may bring out the mother in you.” If he was trying to elicit a response from her his efforts were poor at best and she held her resolve firm. Black stood behind the boy and untied his hands, which dropped limply by his side. He lifted the boy’s right arm until it was level to his own face and looked into Alara’s eyes. “It’s time to make a choice, and after tonight there will be no going back.” Alara nodded, she had already made up her mind to take this path and she was determined to make Lord Osari proud that he had chosen her. “Watch carefully.” He closed his eyes and Alara watched as they started moving about beneath his eyelids. Mousy’s hand slowly made a fist and then extended each finger until they pointed toward the ceiling. The hand moved from side to side in a slow wave. Black opened his eyes. “Your turn,” he instructed.

  Alara closed her eyes and concentrated on the boy, she let her mind flow into his and took control of his body, she raised his other hand and mimicked Black’s spell. “So far so good,” Black said and took over the body again. This time the boy's hand started rotating over and over in a horizontal fashion. Black's eyes remained open and he watched Alara. Her eyes were fixated on the hand as it moved with increasing speed. She could hear bones start to crack and tendons tear as the hand motion became more and more pronounced, until the joint popped, the hand rotated three hundred and sixty degrees and hung loosely at the wrist. “Continue,” Black instructed. Her mind drifted back to Mousy’s mind, this time she felt the pain from his wrist and she wrestled to bring his mind under control. She used her skills to push his pain aside and copied Black’s actions. As the second wrist popped out of place and the hand hung limply she pulled back, releasing the pain which flooded into his mind. Mousy seemed to jump slightly in his chair, but the spell held him in place. Black was nodding at her. “Very good,” he said. “The pain in his body will soon bring him out from under the influence of the spell, what do you suggest we do?”

  “Keep the gag in place.”

  “Very droll Du Preeze,” he said with no sign of amusement in his voice.

  She smiled at him and reached out to the boy removing both the gag and the blindfold. She closed her eyes and took hold of his mind again, she could feel the boy trying to fight through the spell as his anxiety levels gained ground over the stupor, and she knew she had a small window of time to work in. She focused all of her energy, willing herself into his mind, and slowly wiped her index finger across his lips. As it moved skin grew in its wake, closing his mouth permanently. She was about to do the same with his eyes but Black mentally knocked her out of the boy's mind. The boy was now awake and from the look in his eyes he was in serious pain. Black took control of the boy, calmed his mind and eliminated his pain. “Nice skin job,” he said examining the sealed mouth, “a little dramatic for my liking, and you would have to go back in and reverse the spell if you wanted to retire the subject in order to leave no trace of your handiwork, but all in all very effective. Let’s take this outside shall we? Take my hand.”

  As soon as she touched his cold skin Black's mind transported all three of them outside and into the night air. She looked around to see trees and grass, and as she looked up into the night sky the snow swirled in the wind and chilled her face. She breathed in as deeply as she could and then let the breath out slowly. Mind transport always left her feeling nauseated, but after a few more breaths she would be fine.

  The boy sat with his head hanging, facing toward the grassy common. Black placed his hand beneath Mousy’s chin and raised his head; he took a moment to peer into the boy's eyes before letting it drop where it bounced twice on his chest and then came to rest. “He’s passed out. While we wait Du Preeze tell me why you decided to mute him.”

  “There was a possibility that he could have gone into a state of panic and even though his hands had been eliminated he may have been able to rip the gag out and cry for help. Mundane methods of silencing retirees are messy and why waste good materials when it isn’t necessary?”

  “Indeed,” he replied. The word wasn’t lost on Alara; Lord Pitt had used the saying many times during the afternoon's lesson.

  “So Lord Pitt gave you this mission?” she asked trying to keep her voice at a normal level.

  “No questions,” Black barked sharply but he didn’t give anything away. “He’s coming around.” The boy's head turned from side to side, he lifted his eyes and looked at Alara. There was a pleading there but she ignored it. Snow continued to fall and it covered the boy’s shoulders and lap, and he started to shiver. Black rested the boy's hands on his lap and as Alara took the scene in she noticed that he wasn’t even trying to put up a fight. That revolted her. She slapped him across the face.

  Black tutted aloud, “You're letting your emotions get in the way; I suggest concentrating on the business at hand. How do you recommend retirement?”

  “Well I guess blades are out, and I imagine that the Arts are the point here, so,” she hesitated a moment, “quickly and painlessly,” she said sizing up her options.

  “I agree,” Black said. Alara gritted her teeth and reached out to take control of the body and end the boy’s misery with a mind storm, but was forced back so roughly by Black's mind that she fell backwards onto the snow-covered grass. He held out a hand and dragged her to her feet. “You owe me this one,” he said and ended the boy's life with a mind burst that exploded the boy's brain. Dark red blood oozed down the boy's face from his nose and eyes, and soaked his neck as it flowed freely from his ears.

  She realised that the kill would make him number two again and bore him no ill will. She would have to make up her credits in another way. Black disappeared into the night and left Alara with the corpse. I really need to learn that transportation spell, she thought to herself and trudged back through the snow to the Killing Grounds.

  She had never felt so alive and was even more excited about talking with Lord Osari. It felt good to know she was safe out here among the snowdrifts and naked trees. She had never felt like she belonged anywhere before, growing up on the streets of the docklands would do that to a girl. She had quickly learned that if she were to eat at night she would have to work for it and that only gave her a few options, steal what she needed or find work in one of the sweatshops making cheap and nasty fakes. She had chosen the latter and worked eighteen hours a day for her rent and board in the back of the workhouse. It was warm and she had a bed beneath her. She could have made more money as a thief, but that came with its own set of dangers and she would have had to join the Thieves Guild and move to the Jolly Roger hotel in the downtown area of the city. Downtown was the armpit of the city, full of drug dealers and refugees. She had sworn as a small
girl that she was better than that.

  After three years at the sweatshop she had made it off of the sewing machines into the packaging and distribution department, and often packaged boxes of fatigues for delivery to the Killing Grounds. She admired the black uniforms and boots and took care of the deliveries herself, making sure she made good friends in the laundry of the hotel. That was where she had learned of the vacancy for spotters at the guild of Arbitrators. She didn’t have a clue what or who they were, but after some time studying the methods and history at the local library she applied, and the rest was history. She mulled over her childhood as she made her way back, remembering her friends that were still working for the sweat master. Maybe someday she would go back and visit them. She hadn’t left on the best terms with the sweat master but he was a fair man and had let her go after she paid her debt to him. That had taken up most of her savings, but the position at the Arbitrators Guild was too good an opportunity to miss out on.

  Alara stopped short of the old hotel and admired its smooth marble stairs and outer walls that were spotlessly clean and shining brightly under the street lights. Two guards in black fatigues stood to attention at the top of the stairs that led to the dark interior and eyed her with disdain and waved her away. One day, she promised herself, I’ll walk through those doors as a full member of the guild and those guards will salute me. But for now she was consigned to using the servant's entrance next to the gym. She found herself shivering as the cold wind blew off of the sea and hurried to the side road and into the Killing Grounds. Lord Osari’s rooms promised warmth and company, and she could think of nothing better.

  Nine:

  Lord Osari hadn’t yet returned when Alara made her way through the corridors of the Killing Grounds and only an empty room awaited her. She poked at what was left of the fire and added some sticks and logs, and lovingly blew the flames back to life. After the walk through the snowstorm the fire was a godsend and Alara soon found herself dry and comfortable. She had three textbooks and a pad open next to her on the floor and chewed on the end of the pencil trying to focus, but tiredness was crawling its way from her body to her mind and she craved sleep. She stood up and stretched her hands over her head in an attempt to brush away the cobwebs in her mind, C’mon girl, you can do this, her eyes roamed over the bookcase and the Kipling poem popped back into her mind, The White Man’s Burden. Maybe whoever had instructed Black to test her Artistry had done it with the intention of sharing more knowledge about Lord Osari with her and so had sent their “son”. But Black had shared no knowledge with her, he had barely tested her ability at all, maybe he didn’t want the job and was just going through the motions? He’d only asked her to produce a small amount of magic to control Mousy, and she had much more than that in reserve. Maybe Black lied and just needed her to spot his kill? She dismissed the idea as paranoia. Black had a master and whoever it was wanted to know if Alara was the real deal or not. She’d done what was asked of her and was prepared to kill the boy.