Dark Journey Chapter 1 Part 5

By , Vassalboro, ME
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Lying in bed, the soft cotton sheets brushing her nude body, Kerri looked out the window at the stars. When she was younger she had wished upon those stars, wishing that someday she would become the best fighter in the entire land, that her name would be whispered in every nook of Tavor. Kerri smiled wryly, for though her name was not whispered all over the land, every commoner within a hundred thousand miles knew and feared The Cat.
As well they should, thought Kerri proudly. I am their worst nightmare. The one that will come to them in the dead of night, Death standing by my shoulder.
A cold, unseasonable wind whipped through the room, yanking on Kerri’s blankets, howling in her ears. Kerri swore, letting out a stream of curses as she jumped out of bed and staggered over to the window, slamming it shut.
The wind stopped as suddenly as it had come. Grumbling, Kerri returned to her bed and settled back in between the warm covers. The air was warm, but Kerri was cold that night, though it was more internal then external.
Rolling over onto her stomach, Kerri reached an arm under her pillow and grasped the hilt of her sword. The leather-wrapped hilt rested comfortably in her hand, like they had been made for each other. A sense of comfort stole over Kerri as she drifted off to sleep, the hilt of Blood-drinker, her trusted sword, resting in her palm.

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Two beings floated on the wind, shadows wrapped around their ethereal forms, hiding them from sight. Large white wings beat the wind as they hovered above a building, looking down at the roof. Their eyes, burning with brilliant light, seemed to penetrate the wooden boards that hid the sleeper from view.
“Is she here, Thanos?” one of the figures asked, turning to look at her companion. The shadows slipped for a moment and the moonlight hit her face, making her features glow.
Her face was elegant and slightly haughty, sweeping eyebrows and a slight, pointed nose giving her an arrogant air. Her eyes glowed brilliant gold, sparkling in the light of the moon. Honey-colored waves cascaded down her back, swinging around her knees as her great, feathery wings stirred the air.
“She’s here, Zoya,” the other figure replied, his eyes never leaving the building. He let the shadows drop as well.
His tanned skin drank in silvery beams, taking them in and making them part of himself, before reflecting them back, richer from touching his skin. High cheek bones and an angular jaw gave him a wild, regal look, the look of tribal kings. Emerald green eyes the color of a dark forest stood out starkly against his skin, shadowed by mysteries. Silken black locks fell to his shoulders, twisting in graceful curls that danced in the wind created by the large wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades.
“Do you remember what our masters told us?” Zoya asked, her voice sharp, eyes fixed on the other angel’s face.
“Of course,” Thanos replied, his voice harsh and sharp as he shot a glare at his companion. “I never forget what my Dark Lady tells me.”
“Then keep your mind on your duty,” Zoya snapped. “So we can return home sooner.”
“Wishing to return to your Master’s bed?” Thanos asked, his voice taunting. “He seems to have finally tamed you, Zoya. It is not an easy feat. I should know.”
“Indeed, brother,” Zoya taunted back. “But you have little reason to return home don’t you? For our dear Dark Lady seems to have found another man to entertain her, hasn’t she?” Thanos didn’t answer, only turned away to look at the building once more.
“She has!” Zoya said gleefully, laughing. “Poor Thanos, great and regal warrior of old, set aside for some youngling. What was his name again? Gabriel, that’s right! How does it feel, dear brother, to be discarded by the Dark Lady herself?”
“You wanted to be quick, sister?” Thanos asked, ignoring the question, his eyes blank. “Then let us begin.”
With that Thanos closed his wings and dropped, plummeting towards the window that looked out over the sea. Spreading his wings once more, Thanos hovered beside the warped glass. Zoya glided down beside him. Glancing over at his sister, Thanos blew gently on the locked window.
The latch popped open. Thanos glided into the room, sliding through the small window easily, though if he were human he could not have fit his shoulders through the opening. Zoya landed beside him and together they walked to the bed that sat in the middle of the room, facing the window through which they had just entered.
Thanos looked at the young woman who lay curled up in the tangled mass of covers, one hand beneath her pillow. Her deep scarlet hair spread across her pillow like a bloodstain, vibrant against the white linen. A sheet curled around her bare ribcage, barely covering her breasts. Her skin was the dusky tan of much time spent out in the sun. She was slim, but with the curves of a grown woman. Her arms were firmly shaped, toned by many hours of working with weapons and horses.
It was her face that intrigued Thanos the most. Though finely shaped, her face told a story of harshness and many fights. Her nose was crooked from being broken, probably several times, and a faint scare ran from eyebrow to temple. There were lines at the corner of her eyes, lines that didn’t relax even in sleep, marring the youthfulness of her face. Those lines gave her an air of gravity and age. Thanos wondered what had happened to her in order to put those lines there. Then he remembered why they were there.
“Quite finished slobbering over the girl, Thanos?” Zoya asked tartly. Thanos glared at his sister.
“We cannot wake her here,” he said harshly, trying to make up for his momentary lapse in duty. “She will fight and make noise. We must take her somewhere else. Somewhere more secluded.”
“Let us take her over the sea,” Zoya suggested. “There will be no one to hear her there.”
“Yes, that will work,” Thanos replied. The two angels spread their wings and hovered over the sleeper, one on either side. Thanos and Zoya’s eyes met and together they reached down and grabbed the girls arm in their cool, light hands.





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