Year 351 after the War of the Gods, Summer

Merun, Capital of the Empire 

From his vantage point on the roof of the watchtower, he could overlook the entire market district. Despite it being the middle of the night, the wide streets were still brightly lit and buzzing with activity. Lanterns hung from overhanging rooftops and stalls, keeping the darkness at bay. Offers were shouted, there was haggling, there were arguments, there was laughter and music. Someone dodged a cart and stumbled into a crate of turnips, scattering them all about the ground. Despite all the days he had already spent in the Imperial City, it was still a mystery to him how nobody in this city ever seemed to sleep. He wouldn’t be able to fulfill his contract with such bustling activity down there. He hoped the target would soon turn into one of the darker alleys. There might be a risk of losing her, but the shadows would offer him protection.

The avius dropped from the roof of the tower, the gentle wind beneath his wings carrying him from roof to roof. His kind hadn't been able to fly for a long time, but it was enough to ride the wind. He chose a house near the main road as his new vantage point. His target pushed through the crowd below him. Even at night, the ever-wakeful city demanded effort to reach your destination quickly. The woman chased away a beggar who had been following her for some time now. Only when she barked at him to get lost did he turn around and curse her. If she was making an attempt to not attract attention, she was failing miserably. Not that an orc would have gone unnoticed in Merun. They only rarely strayed into human towns this far east.

Two streets down, she collided with a fully laden man. He cursed loudly. And at that point it dawned on the avius: she was smarter than he had assumed. She wanted to be noticed. It was far more difficult to murder someone who was attracting everyone’s attention; who everyone was staring at. And if that wouldn’t be enough, she was still carrying two swords. The avius was less worried about those, however. If everything went well, they wouldn’t do her any good. He was prepared.

He jumped one house over so as to not lose her. She knew she was being followed and it became more difficult to keep up with her. She avoided shadows, stayed on wide streets, occasionally talked or argued with a merchant.

Plan B it is then.

The needle flashed briefly in the warm light of the lanterns before it found its mark.

Her melody must cease. And it would make him rich. And it would gift his sister her freedom.

The woman grabbed the back of her neck where the thorn stuck in her flesh and grimaced. With each beat, her heart would pump the poison through her body. Further and further. She wouldn’t even feel it at first; it’d take a few moments. And then it would be too late.

He smoothed the blue-green feathers on his head and continued watching her, to make sure his job was done. But the orc just kept walking as if nothing had happened. Had he misjudged? Impossible. Even at her size and stature, the dosage had to be enough.

She turned into a wider side street. It was less crowded here, no haggling merchants, no stalls and so she was moving faster. He hurried to follow her. From rooftop to rooftop. He glided a distance on the wind; crossed the street as a shadow. Climbed up a wall of rough hewn stone. Ducked into the darkness high  above the people. He saw a few pigeons and took a different path. If he woke them, she’d know where he was. Damn it, why wasn’t she dropping?

She looked left, then right and disappeared into a dark alleyway. So she wants to finish it like this. He got the chance to open her throat after all.

She stumbled as she took another turn and he realised with grim satisfaction that the poison was beginning to take effect after all. He flipped onto a roof directly above her. In the darkness, he could barely make out her outline. The paralysis spread. One leg dragged behind her, one arm hung limp. Now her size was no longer helping her. Silently he dropped from the rooftop onto his victim. But she ducked out from under him and he landed awkwardly on the street. He should have waited, he was too impatient. The element of surprise was gone. But he would not give her the chance to exploit this mistake. Before she could draw her swords, he leapt towards her and stabbed at the back of the knee of the leg on which she seemed to be bearing all her weight. A victim lying to the ground could fight no more.

But she didn't want to begrudge him this opportunity. She kicked at him. With a sickening crunch, her boot impacted on his collarbone and deflected his slash. The blade missed its target and instead found itself in the side of her calf. He stumbled backwards, fighting the pain that ate into his vision as dark edges.

His opponent clumsily caught the momentum of the kick, drew one of her swords and, in one fluid motion, struck a blow from above against the assassin's head. He narrowly avoided it and managed to deflect the blade with his dagger at the last moment.

Gods, he had hoped the poison would take effect much sooner. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t stand against the orc for long; not in an open fight. His next attack had to be right.

He made two jumps back; wanted to give himself more room to manoeuvre; wanted to give himself time to find a weak spot. His victim was only watching calmly and made no move to pounce on him and end things. His nerves burned, his muscles screamed, his tendons twitched. His shoulder throbbed with dull pain. Why wasn't she doing anything?

Perhaps he could distract her? Maybe that would buy him an opportunity. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached into his pocket. A slow, deliberate movement. He didn't want to spook her. Then the air between them was filled with fine, yellowish powder and it smelled of sulphur. Now just a spark…

The orc disappeared from view. All that remained was a vague shadow. She was looking left and right, trying to keep an eye on her surroundings. Wanted to retreat but her leg gave way beneath her. Leaning on her sword, she knelt on the stone road. Things were as good as over. But she found him again. Fixed him. Glaring at him from dark eyes. He didn’t care. He drew the dagger across stone and sparks flew.

And then everything was but white. Even through closed eyelids the light was blinding. A handful of daylight in deepest night. It was as if looking directly at the sun.

Now he had to end it quickly. The flash must have drawn the attention of the guards. He had a couple of moments at best. One leap and he would be with her, his dagger plunged into her throat. Then he would have to negotiate the bounty again.

He tried to jump and was immediately thrown back down. His head impacted on the pavement hard and the sound made him want to vomit. His right arm was numb.

The bounty was definitely not enough.

He tried to fight his way back up, but he couldn’t. He ignored the pain in his skull. The dizziness and nausea. He looked at his arm. The blade of a sword was sticking out of his shoulder and with a jerk it severed muscle and sinew and broke bone. The tattooed face of his opponent hung over him. She chewed on something and swallowed it. She grimaced. Her weight bore down on him; he couldn’t move.

“Did you really think it would be this easy?”

She let go of her sword. “Hold onto this for a second.” Then she rummaged through the contents of a small pouch on her belt again and began chewing on whatever she found. “But I have to hand it to you: you almost had me.”

She spat on the street and swiped her face, before taking hold of her sword again. “A little less cockiness and you would have finished me off. They’d look good in her hair…” She stroked the feathers on his wings.

The avius breathed heavily. This was not at all how he’d imagined this. This was not how they had described his mission to him. It was supposed to be easy. His thoughts whirred wildly through his mind. A swarm of agitated insects looking for a way out.

“Mute?”, the woman asked surprised, “Isn’t this the part where you start begging?”

If she came just a little closer, he could at least peck out one of her eyes with his beak. Then perhaps he could escape. This damned asshole had taken his arm. He wanted to watch her scream. Wanted to kick at her. Dig his claws into her flesh. But she stomped down and broke his leg. He howled in pain.

She looked at him in disappointment and shook her head. “You’re making this a lot easier for me.” He wanted to see her dead. Wanted to watch her die. Wanted to watch as her life left her body, the light left her eyes. It was just a contract when he set out, but now he hated her.

She rose up to her full height above him and looked deep into his eyes but he could see nothing in them. No joy at her victory, no pity for him, no disgust at his assault on her life. Nothing.

“Next time they should send someone better.”