The Unworthy and The Damned Read online

  Her breath caught in her throat, but refusing to let her panic show she barked, "Push it in then, if you have the guts! I swear I'll find the strength to take you with me."

  To her shock and disbelieving relief, the boy said, "Hey, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you."

  Celia blinked. "What? Aren't you an assassin hired to do so?"

  "Maybe. But after seeing you, I realize you're too pretty to kill."

  She gaped. "That can't be the reason." When he didn't respond, she asked, "Why attack me then, if you don't seek my death? I could easily have killed you."

  "I was just curious about how good you were, after you took care of those four amateurs alone. Now, ready to stop fighting?"

  "I guess there's no point in continuing to do so."

  He pulled the knife back from her ribcage and smiled. "You're pretty good. Not as good as me, though."

  She sat up with a sour look. "That wasn't a fair contest. I was almost at the end of my endurance, and I'm not as used to fighting in dim light, and who throws their main weapon without being in grave trouble?"

  "It worked, didn't it? Don't complain, you're just as tricky as me."

  The other considerations still held weight, but she supposed it wouldn't be worth pressing the issue. "If you aren't going to kill me, can I assume I'm free to go?" Without waiting for him to answer, she rose and started away.

  "Wait! Let me go with you. I can help protect you against any others who come after you."

  Celia stared back at him. "Not only does the assassin spare me, but he wants to be my companion? This is too good to be true. Why, and please don't say it's cause I'm pretty."

  He gave a short laugh. "Alright, I'll tell you the truth. The reason I didn't kill you is because I've been following you for a while, and saw you promise to deliver medicine to that plague town regardless of having to sacrifice profit. And when I watched you with the herb girl, I became more convinced of your intentions." Watching her battle might account for his insight on her fighting methods too, as opposed to uncanny deductive ability. His voice softened. "My family died from illness too, so I completely support the battle against disease. That's why I want to see you reach your goal, and not end up dead before then."

  While the earnings might not be as great as they'd hoped, she and her father would still profit significantly from a completed medicine sale. But she couldn't be faulted for some assassin boy being naive, and who knew if he told the truth anyway? While he might have spared her life for now, that didn't mean he couldn't be involved in a scheme to get closer to her father or something. Or maybe he planned to kill her after she sated his compassionate whims. Whether he was trustworthy or not though, this wasn't the time to get on his bad side, not before she recovered her strength.

  "Fine, you can come with me. You can be the bodyguard I sometimes wished I had." She resumed walking in the direction she would have when she awakened, albeit a couple hours early. Not likely she could get back to sleep now after all that excitement and with her new companion putting her on edge. "By the way, do you know why I'm being hunted by assassins?"

  He shrugged. "No idea. My teacher just told me the assignment, he's never been big on explanations."

  "One other question before I forget. What's your name?"

  "Edward Gene. But everybody calls me Edge, so you can too."

  Chapter 2

  Edge walked slowly after the merchant girl, annoyed somewhat that she didn't go faster. She seemed kind of soft in contrast to the fight she had put up against him, not even really injured and yet so sluggish. If he hadn't eaten or slept in three days, he could probably still go faster than that. She was really pretty though, even in her filthy and disheveled state. He imagine how she would look properly groomed, and in more feminine dress. While it was a joke that he spared her due to her looks, he wondered if they might actually have been a small factor in his decision. He had very nearly chosen to plunge the knife into her heart, despite what he said after. Maybe he should have. He'd be in big trouble with his teacher Dino when he found out. But if he did kill her, the town would wait that much longer to receive medicine, if they ever did. More children would die in terror not knowing what was happening to them, like his little brother and sister had. When it came down to it, he didn't have the heart to accept that.

  "So what do you do when you're not out traveling?" he asked.

  Celia replied in a none too enthusiastic tone, "Read books about economic theory and catch up on trade news."

  "Wow, you really take this merchant thing seriously."

  She looked back coldly at him. "Don't you take your job seriously?"

  "I'd think so. I haven't failed to kill a mark before you. And if I didn't take it seriously, I would probably be the one who ends up dead." He paused. "I guess I just figured being a merchant isn't as important."

  "You think murdering people is more important than distributing needed goods? Commerce makes the world go round, meanwhile one could argue we'd be better off not resorting to assassins."

  "Sorry to see you think so lowly of my profession. I just meant we put ourselves in peril all the time, so we'd have to be serious." Unlike certain people who even if well trained to fight, were still quite easily exhausted.

  "It's not as if merchants never face danger, as we've just seen."

  Edge chuckled. "A fair point. But studying for your trade is all you do? I can't believe that. Even assassins have hobbies."

  She hesitated, perhaps pondering if she shouldn't get too comfortable engaging in small talk. "I sew a little." At his raised brow, she said, "It counts as a hobby. I could afford not to, but do it because I like it."

  "Comes in handy when you're out here and can't pay someone to mend your clothes I'm sure, but I can't fault a hobby for being practical." He waited for her to ask about his hobbies in return, only to find she didn't. It seemed she wasn't very interested in getting to know him, which made sense enough. He tried asking her other things, but she tended to respond with short, simple answers that gave little to build a conversation on, when she replied at all that is. Oh well. Maybe she would open up to him more after they'd spent some time together, and she realized he wasn't going to murder her in her sleep or something. If he did decide to kill her, he'd prefer to test her skills in open combat once more to see if her excuses after defeat had merit.

  She eventually stopped to eat lunch, not bothering to tell him so that he walked a few yards past thinking she just knelt to fix her boots or something until he glanced back. "How are you holding up?" he asked as she produced an ugly shriveled strip of dried meat from her knapsack and not so girlishly ripped a chunk off with her teeth. He too retrieved a bun from his own pack and took a bite. "Strength recovered yet?"

  "Don't worry, I'm feeling a lot stronger." Even if she wasn't, she would probably say that to not seem vulnerable to him, but she did seem to be moving in less labored fashion become deciding to eat.

  He extended a hand. "Want to arm wrestle, then? I'm curious how strong you really are."

  She declined to reciprocate the gesture, acting like she didn't even see his hand. "Sorry, I'm not interested in manly pissing contests."

  Looking at their arms, he guessed he would win. She probably knew that, and didn't want to put herself in an inferior position to him again. But he just thought it would be fun to see how exactly they measured up. Even if his theory on the reason for her choice of weapon was correct, she must be pretty strong to wield that sword as well as she did. "It's not that manly to arm wrestle. Besides, there's nobody around to see it."

  "Have you arm wrestled women before?" When he nodded, she asked, "Have you ever lost?"

  "A few times, when I went easy on them." He bowed his head. "Legitimately, once."

  Celia laughed. "You're not tall, but you look stronger than most men. She must have been a real bull."

  "She was a bit shorter than you, a little chubby but not heavier than me. It was a tad embarrassing."

  "You just stri
nging me along, trying to bait me into accepting your challenge?"

  He sensed his face turning red at the memory. "No, this legitimately happened. She might have beaten me on technique though, but it didn't look too good."

  "Well given you've probably arm wrestled dozens of men and women at least, I'd think you have a big advantage over me in technique."

  "That's true. I could train you a bit so we're more closely matched."

  She finally looked up, but then dropped her gaze again. "Still not interested."

  #

  After that odd and in her view childish invitation to arm wrestle, Celia finished her lunch and continued on her way. The assassin boy trailed along, persisting in questioning her about subjects she had no desire to discuss. What did he need to know about her family life, and was she supposed to ask him back how his had been before they died? What did it matter where she lived and how her home was, unless he planned on staying friends and visiting with her after this? When he asked what kind of more feminine garments she had, did he even know enough about fashion to picture what she was talking about if she described her wardrobe in detail? She had no clue if he was actually interested in these things, or just wanted her to like him more. If he thought to coax her into bed with him, he would be sorely disappointed.

  That night she volunteered to take the first watch, and quickly heard Edge seem to fall asleep as he took to snoring. She gave a thought to killing him. He could be conspiring against her father, or try to rape her, or kill her after the medicine was delivered to the village. But if he wasn't planning on any of those, she would be murdering him in cold blood. She'd put up with his sometimes irritating company for now, until his behavior justified drastic action. Wait, even if she didn't kill him, could she do something to make him less of a threat? His axes rested next to him, rather than still being worn. Maybe she could take one of them away, so he would start a fight with her at a disadvantage. But again, no. Going so far would very likely provoke him into attacking her, and she didn't want to risk that yet.

  When his turn came, she resolved to stay awake for a while at first, to see if he might attempt something. But she underestimated the effects of fatigue and inadequate sleep last night, and almost instantly lost consciousness. Upon waking in the morning to find herself unharmed, she considered that maybe she could trust him just a tiny bit more.

  #

  A few days later, crossing a deep ravine along the way, they neared the hilltop monastery where Celia would pick up the medicine. She had found herself talking more with Edge in spite of herself, and they knew each other a little better now. After losing his family he'd been taken in by a monastery, ironically enough. When an assassin came for the prior's life, he had the misfortune of witnessing it and in unthinking anger tried to avenge him. To his surprise, after grazing the killer's leg with a knife before being subdued, he wasn't killed himself. Instead the assassin had commended his bravery, and asked if he wanted the strength to take down those who offended him in the future. Bewildered, he said yes. So the assassin took the boy with him, and raised him into the man now known as Edge.

  "Now that I've told you my life story," Edge said after revealing his past, "what about you? I know you're fairly strong, but it's still strange a girl your size carries around such a massive sword. A lot of men don't even use weapons like that, and it doesn't exactly look very graceful or elegant."

  "What makes you assume I care about my weapon looking graceful or elegant? My family are pragmatists, our choices are made for maximum benefit."

  "What makes you think that blade ideal for you, though? There are weapons of all sizes which are effective, so a greatsword isn't objectively the best."

  "I know it's not, but it suits my style quite well." She still hesitated to explain fully what she meant by that, though he might have already guessed at some of it before. She knew she hadn't the strength to stand toe to toe with a strong, skilled man for too long, so whenever she found an opening against such an opponent, she preferred a weapon with which she could make any shot count. Deciding to throw Edge a bone, she mentioned another reason she liked this type of blade. "It's good not to have to work overly hard to hurt someone through armor or penetrate a monster's thick hide, too."

  The monastery came into view, a stout rounded structure made of stone. "You should ask them for some cloaks too," Edge suggested, "so we won't be as easily recognized by any more of my colleagues."

  "Holy cloaks?"

  "I don't see the problem. With your height and that big sword, you could pass for a male church knight, which would be less conspicuous than a girl with that size sword. And I can definitely pass for one, with my nobility and poise."

  If they didn't have to talk, maybe. They reached the monastery gates, where after banging the doorring a once-tall but now stooped old monk greeted them. "Miss Celia," said the elder with a wisp of white hair hanging from his chin, "we've been expecting you." He looked Edge up and down as if in appraisal of unfamiliar wares, and the assassin fidgeted under his gaze. "But who is this rowdy youth with you?"

  "I'm Edward, her bodyguard."

  "Hmm... your father did not make me aware you would be accompanied by a bodyguard."

  Celia bit her lip. "Uh, he was hired recently."

  The old man stroked his goatee. "He does not particularly look like the type of professional your father would employ. But if you vouch for him, I suppose it is fine."

  He let them in, and they followed him through bare-walled gray hallways towards the storeroom. "Thanks for not ratting on me and trying to get me killed," Edward whispered.

  "You haven't done anything in my sight to deserve killing yet." With a roll of her eyes, she added, "But, 'Edward?' Isn't it supposed to be Edge?"

  He chuckled nervously. "That's not a very professional name, so I figured it might help to use my real one."

  They walked downstairs to the cool basement storeroom full of barrels and shelves, where Celia told the monk how much medicine she needed and paid for it from a sack of coins she pulled from the bottom of her pack. "If I rob you and take the rest of that, you'll still be able to deliver the medicine to town, right?" Edge said, making the monk stare at his joke. At least, she hoped it was a joke.

  "By the way," she asked, "could you spare us a couple of cloaks? I'll pay for them too."

  The monk took on a disapproving scowl as he fingered his own garment. "These, seeing that you seem to be unaware, are blessed holy vestments. As such, they are reserved for members of our order and not for sale."

  She considered giving up on Edge's half-baked idea, but then thought the potential to elude future assassins made it worth pursuing further. "Please, we aren't just looking to be warmer or something. I'm being targeted by assassins for an unknown reason... hence needing a bodyguard. Being recognized or not could mean the difference between life and death, for the townspeople I'm trying to save as well as myself."

  The wrinkles of his forehead deepened more in thought, then his expression softened. "It would be callous of us to ignore your plight. We do have one extra cloak made for an initiate who never arrived here, which I will ask my fellows permission to give you. As for your bodyguard, I should think he can make do with the hood he already has."

  #

  Some minutes later, they left the monastery with a cart loaded with medicine and a heavy white cloak with the golden scales of God embroidered on the back and His scepter with a crownlike head on the front. "Why do I have to wear this thing," Celia asked Edge, feeling hot and weighed down with sweat soaking her back, "why can't we switch clothes and I use your hood while you play church knight?"

  "Wearing my clothes, you would still be easily identifiable as a woman. Besides, previous jape aside, do I seem all that suited to playing a refined holy knight?"

  "Do you think I am? At least you can speak in a male voice. But I guess you're right this thing makes a better disguise."

  As they walked down the road back towards the plague town, they spott
ed a pair of tall men headed in their direction. One was narrow of face and gangly with a polearm on his back, the other quite wide and fleshy-cheeked if not quite fat, wearing a large mace. "Uh oh," Edge said. "Better keep your head down, but don't act too scared to the point of giving yourself away."

  "I'm not scared of those guys. But, you think they're assassins?"

  He gritted his teeth. "Worse, I know them."

  "Then we better hope your hood is enough to fool them."

  They walked by the towering pair, both well over six feet, Edge pretending to take in the scenery so his face was turned away from them. Celia thought they'd made it when the thicker man called, "Edge, little boy! Why so unsociable, are you not even going to acknowledge your venerable elders?" His breath smelled of fresh cooked meat. To be frank she felt envious, since it showed they had more time to spare for hunting than her.

  Reluctantly turning around, Edge said, "I didn't realize it was you, Pigface."

  A vein bulged on the assassin's tree trunk neck. "It's Boar. For the last time, it's Boar."

  "Not exactly friends?" Celia asked in the deepest voice she could muster.

  The lankier man sneered. "Boy hasn't the sense to show his elders respect. Thinks being his teacher's pet will save him, but the day will come... Say Edge, what are you doing traveling with a church knight anyway?"

  When he failed to respond, Celia poked him with an elbow and muttered, "Confess."

  "I was caught after a failed mission, and am under arrest."

  Boar grinned. "Do you hear that, Spider? He failed to kill that little merchant girl, and managed to get captured for his troubles. I bet she beat him up personally, too."

  "That is hysterical, poor kid." Then the raspy-voiced Spider's eyes narrowed. "Wait a second. If you're under arrest, where are your restraints? And this church knight's cloak looks a ways too big..." Before she could react, he flicked a hand up and brushed back her hood. He squinted, then burst out laughing. "It's the girl!"