Dark Journey Chapter 1 Part 3

By , Vassalboro, ME
Grabbing his face in a bruising grip, she shoved the length of cloth into his mouth, gagging him. Brynn tried to jump up, but Kerri slammed him hard back onto the bed. Pulling the rope from the book, she grabbed one of his flailing wrists, then the other, and quickly looped the rope around them, tying them together. Brynn struggled, his body bucking and thrashing. He tried to yell, but the gag muffled his voice.
Kerri grabbed the book from his chest and slammed it into his temple with all her might. Brynn fell back, stunned. Kerri quickly tied his wrists to the headboard above his head. She grabbed his feet and bound them to the end of the bed. Brynn shook his head and began to struggle again, but he couldn’t move.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Kerri asked, standing beside him, smiling. She reached down and pulled off the robe, revealing her black assassin’s uniform. Brynn’s eyes widen and fear danced across his face. Kerri smiled at him, folding the robe and setting it against the wall.
“Now, let’s see,” she said, surveying her victim. “I think we better move this blanket, don’t you? Don’t want to get blood on it.” She reached down and, grabbing the edge of the wool blanket, yanked it out from under him. She folded it meticulously and set it beside her robe.
Turning back to Brynn, she drew her dagger. He whimpered as the candlelight glanced off the blade, throwing a beam of light on his face. Kerri walked to the bed and looked down at him, a sneer on her lips.
“You disgust me,” she spat, anger burning in her voice. “All of you. You’re weak, foolish, and selfish. You sit here in your temples, preaching that if people don’t act like saints then they deserve to die. What about the children on the streets, the thieves, who die of starvation? Do they deserve to die? What about the cripples who freeze to death in the winter because no one will take them in? Do they deserve to die?”
Brynn looked at her with tears in his eyes. Kerri knelt down beside him, pressing her dagger into his stomach. She could hear his heart racing, trying to outrun death, as his lungs heaved in terror.
“You think your tears will move me?” she hissed, the flames of rage and insanity dancing in her eyes. “You think you will buy a pardon with your guilt?” Brynn shook his head frantically, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“Most people would say don’t be afraid,” Kerri whispered, pushing her dagger harder into his stomach. “But I say… be very f***ing afraid, you b**tard.” Lifting her dagger, she drove it home with all her strength. Brynn’s body jerked. His eyes lost focus as the blood drained from his face. Kerri laughed softly as she watched death slide into his eyes.
Wrenching her knife free, Kerri stood and wiped the blade on his shirt, cleaning it. She sheathed it, her other hand reaching behind her head. She gripped the handle of her sword and pulled it smoothly from the spine sheathe. Two and a half feet long, the blade was made of the finest steel money could buy. One edge was serrated, the other smooth.
Kerri looked in her victims eyes. There was still a gleam of life in them. Kerri bared her teeth, anger making her cold. Then, her eyes never leaving Brynn’s, she plunged the sword into the hollow of his throat, just above the sternum. His body jerk and a muffled scream ripped from his mouth. Blood pulsed out of the wound as Brynn’s body went limp, dead.





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