To Be an Assassin
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2010 by Woofajuana

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4 - The two great assassin orders battle for dominance in a Universe full of war, strife, and Red Tide oppression. Calsa, young and orphaned, will change the face of these ancient orders, or die trying.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Rape   Coercion   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Incest   MaleDom   Rough   Pregnancy  

"That's great news!" Alt smiled when Calsa told him about her mother being alive. Her eyes shined with joy and hope. "And now that the Torak Lakus are here, they will help reunite you. But don't let it make you lose sight of passing the final ritual."

"Are you kidding? Imagine how pleased she would be if I told her I was the first female Ha'trin in over a thousand years! I'm more determined now than ever!" Calsa grinned, overjoyed.

"Good. Now try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we head back home. We have to tell Sanlis of our success. In a few days after we get home, we'll be contacting the others who do not live at the village, get them all organized and ready to coordinate attacks with the Torak Lakus. And maybe, in a few weeks, you can take the final ritual." He laid back into the cot.

Calsa stared at him in surprise. "You ... you think I'm ready?"

"As ready as you'll ever be. You've trained hard. And you've proven yourself in this trip." He turned onto his side, facing the wall. "But I am tired. Getting ones face crushed by a giant gun wielding lizard isn't a relaxing experience. Good night."

Sitting back onto her cot, Calsa could barely contain herself. She would take the final ritual. It was very secret thing; it was never the same for any two people. It was designed individually to test each student, make sure they could handle themselves in true combat. It was possible to die in the final ritual. But for those who survived, they were stripped of their inherent magic, making them immune to the power of the Ha'tinre and any other magic wielder.

Calsa didn't know how long, or even if she really slept. Her mind was such abuzz. She followed Alt as he and Barkley finished discussing the plans for the war. Alt was given a small radio, one with a crypted frequency so that when the time came to start moving, the message could be sent without prying ears. When they emerged from the underground hideout, it was still dark, though the sky was starting to grey with the morning. They wanted to leave before the Templiks in the outpost began their duties. As they had discovered, the captain of the outpost guards was already dead, replaced effortlessly by a shadowshifter. As Barkley had said, "These shifters are experts at making themselves one of any creature they take the form of, blending effortlessly in with any society, any type of work, and any personalty they need to."

"Their organization is very impressive," Alt stated as they headed out of the small outpost. "It's hard to imagine that the Reds can even hold their own against them."

Calsa said nothing, the thought of seeing her mother again, hopefully soon, still on her mind. Alt spurred Marm into a swift trot, hoping to get home as soon as they could. The trip home was like a blur in Calsa's mind. She hardly paid any attention to what was going on. When Alt gave her food, she didn't taste it, barely slept. All she could think about was that there was the hope of seeing her mother again. That thought burned so brightly in her thoughts that she almost didn't even comprehend Alt saying he could feel something nearby, something menacing.

Only then did Calsa snap out of her trance. She glanced around, realizing that her instincts were tingling. Alt's hand slipped under his shirt where the pistol had been all along. His eyes darted about. Calsa whispered to him across the fire, "What... ?"

Alt's hand came up, cutting her question off. The hiss of a blade was not lost on him though Calsa heard it only when she looked back on the event that was unfolding. A thin blade flashed in the fire light, Alt falling back onto his back to avoid it. He continued his momentum, flipping over, his legs out straight to make contact with the black clothed figure behind him. The man grunted as he fell back, Alt quickly gaining his feet. But that was no use.

An arm slipped around Calsa's throat, drawing her against a powerful body. She let out a quick scream before a hand was clamped against her mouth, holding her jaw shut. She squirmed and struggled, trying to get out of the person's grasp, but he was too powerful. She heard several more people hurrying into the fray, Alt snarling as he pulled out his pistol only to have his arms grabbed and held immobile. The men holding Alt managed to force him to his stomach, using their knees against his spine to keep him subdued.

At last, one of the men came into the firelight, his faint glowing green eyes making Calsa's heart pound. The Ha'tinre looked down at Alt. "To think we just happen to cross paths, my dear Ha'trin." Then those glowing eyes flicked to Calsa. The evil in there sent a shiver down her spine. "And you have an apprentice. A bit young to be out in the field with you. You Ha'trin like to keep your young out of harms way, where they can stay weak and ignorant." The Ha'tinre walked up to Calsa, peering down at her. He smiled behind the face wrapping. "I see this one is not so well trained. Hatred burns in his heart. I think he'd make a far better Ha'tinre."

Calsa jerked, trying to wrench free of the one holding her, growling in anger. But her efforts meerly made the obvious leader of them laugh. He then turned and looked back down to Alt. "It is, however, not our custom to kill the young. You, however, Ha'trin, are a different story."

"Since when do the Ha'tinre have any sense of honor or mercy?" Alt rumbled out from his position on the ground.

The Ha'tinre squatted down to Alt. He gestured to his kin to let Alt up to his knees. Alt glared at the Ha'tinre in those glowing eyes. It was then that the Ha'tinre leader leaned forward, speaking softly in Alt's ear. "Since the Clan of the Plains could ever remember."

Alt jerked back, looking at the man with surprise. "I thought the clan was dead."

"Not quite. What you see is all that is left. And best no one know. If we were any other clan, you would be dead. But after our 'brethren' tried to eradicate us, we got rather good at being out of sight, and out of mind. Time for hiding is past, though. You obviously know whether the rumors have more validity than we. We cannot hide amongst the masses like you, Ha'trin." The Ha'tinre was making an obvious effort to be diplomatic. Normally, his kind would kill any they had the fancy to kill, and Ha'trin were their favorite, but this clan was about just as hunted as their enemy.

"You want to know if the Torak Lakus are here?" Alt sneered. "What makes you think I have any inclination to tell you?"

The look of murder in the Ha'tinre's eyes almost made Alt regret his words. The man hissed out his next words as if trying with more effort than he ever had before to keep from slitting Alt's throat. "Because we do not ask [i]where[/i] they are, only that they are here." And then as if he couldn't hold it back, he added, "And because I can kill you and ask your little apprentice here."

Alt let out a breath. He made himself calm, thinking about the options. It was obvious these Ha'tinre were after something other than the lives of a pair of Ha'trin. They knew nothing of true diplomacy, only the agent of fear. But for many years the Clan of the Plains had been peaceful, building their numbers, even refusing to take jobs that would mean they had to attack the Ha'trin on the planet. In a desperate attempt to keep the Templiks off their world, the clan had practically sacrificed itself to the far larger Ha'tinre clans, trying to appease them and prevent their coming.

Finally, Alt sighed. "For the sake of our histories, I will tell you they are here. We are in the service of the Torak Lakus. They have agents everywhere. They are well organized and well armed."

The Ha'tinre let out a breath. "So it is true. They have Shadowshifters among them?"

"Yes."

The Ha'tinre pulled a slip of paper from his sash, tucking it into Alt's shirt. "This is for them. Should you find them again, I think it will help them. I do not like our brethren on this world. I would rather them take their war elsewhere." He then stood, looking down at Alt. "And remember, Ha'trin, we could have killed you. You owe us."


Calsa groaned, the sunlight piercing her eyelids. She held up her hand to shade her eyes as they squinted open. She sat up, groaning again. The side of her head pounded. Then the events of the night flooded her and she glanced about rapidly, noticing Alt laying on his stomach in the leaves. She scrambled to her feet, kneeling beside him. "Master Alt? Master Alt?" She shook him. When he didn't respond, a spike of panic raced through her. "Alt? Please wake up! Alt?"

"That's 'Master Alt' to you." Slowly, he got up, sitting back on his ankles. He coughed, his throat dry from having had his face in the leaves all night. He looked around, finding his water canteen and gulping it down. Finally, when the bottle was empty, he looked to Calsa. "Are you alright?"

She looked around in suspicion. "Just a headache."

Alt grabbed her by the chin and turned her head, making her allow him to examine where the Ha'tinre had struck her. "Interesting they didn't just put you to sleep. They knew you hadn't gone through the ritual yet, you're still suseptible to their magic." He let out a sigh. "They must have some strong self honor code, treating you as a true Ha'trin rather than a normal person." Then Alt felt at his chest, reaching into his shirt to pull out the slip of paper the Ha'tinre had left him. He unfolded the paper, his brow furrowing. "What is this?"

Calsa peered at it. It was a crudely drawn device, with notes scribbled around it. It seemed as though whoever made this had been in a hurry. Alt turned the paper this way and that, trying to figure out what it was he looked at. Then he saw a few words that caught his eye. "Cal ... I think ... I think this is the device that the Templiks are using to make Shadowshifters solid!"

Calsa looked up at him. "Really? They would give anything to get their hands on this! That device is killing them!"

"Indeed." He quickly folded it back up, tucking it into a small pocket in his shirt, his eyes darting about. He noticed their weapons had been left behind. "The Clan of the Plains is as close to a fair and kind clan as the Ha'tinre can get," he muttered as he stood and picked up his pistol, tucking it away. He still glanced about cautiously.

Helping Calsa to her feet, Alt checked Marm over. He then covered the cold ashes of their fire. "We better get home now. The Ha'tinre were extremely uptight; I could see a couple in the trees, keeping a look out. They know they're being hunted, which means we're on the radar of whoever is after them. We need to be long gone from here in case the hunters are not far behind." He swung up onto Marm's back, hauling Calsa up behind him.

She slipped her arms around his waist as Alt dug his ankles into her side. With a grunt of protest, Marm took off in a gallop, all six legs extending gracefully in massive bounding strides. She covered the distance home in only a couple of hours.

As they rushed into town, Alt just barely slowed Marm long enough to call to the guards in the trees. "Sharp eyes, brothers, we may be followed!" He spurred Marm back to full gallop, finally pulling her to a sudden stop before the longhouse. Marm let out an angry caw, shuddering and snorting as she stood still while Alt hopped off her to hurry in. The quicker he could tell Sanlis, the better. Calsa held her reins as she, too, dismounted, offering them to another Ha'trin who had come forward to find out what was going on. He raised a brow, but took the reins without hesitation.

"What?" Calsa heard Sanlis exclaim as she rushed into the longhouse. "Quickly, then, we must get everyone ready. Who knows what manner of life might have been sent after the Clan of the Plains. Obviously, they took massive risk to get this, it is only fair we take the heat off them. Where is your apprentice?"

"Here!" Calsa came forward.

"Tell me, Cal, what happened?" As he spoke, he nodded to Alt, dismissing him to get the town ready for a possible attack.

"Well, sir, we found out the Torak Lakus has a few Alliance aliens among them. We met a few of them. And they have many Shadowshifters on their side. They've already killed and replaced several commanders and other high level officials." She fidgetted a bit which was not lost on Sanlis.

"Anything else?"

"Well, one of the Shadowshifters, I knew him when I was on the streets. He's with them."

Sanlis nodded slowly. "At least you know someone among them." He then patted Calsa on the shoulder. "You did well. Alt was smart to chose you as his apprentice."

Calsa smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Now go, help Alt with the preparations. If indeed someone was chasing the Clan of the Plains, they will find out very quickly that the paperwork was handed off."

Calsa nodded and quickly slipped out of Sanlis' office, hurrying out to find Alt.

"Cal!"

Turning, Calsa smiled at Jerako. The boy ran up to her. "Hey, what's going on? Everyone's getting ready for battle. Were we found out? Did you get to meet the Torak Lakus?"

Calsa shrugged. "Master Alt thinks there is a threat. And yeah, we met them. They were weird and alien, nothing like us. The human thing looked similar. At first I thought he was a Ssalian." She smiled. "But that doesn't matter. I have much more interesting things to think and hope for."

"What do you mean?" Jerako followed Calsa as she went back to their house.

"I learned my mother is alive!" Calsa's voice almost strangulated itself in her excitement. "And a Shadowshifter is watching over her. I'll be able to see her soon!"

"Wow! Cal, that's amazing! You are so lucky. See, good things happen. The bad stuff is sad, but they make the good stuff so much sweeter and better." Jerako smiled at her.

As Calsa reached the door of their cabin, she stopped, her ears twitching slightly. She looked around them. "Hey, Jerako ... Do you hear that?"

"What? I just hear everyone talking and running around."

"Yeah. What happened to the birds?"

Jerako pointed up. "You mean them?"

Calsa looked up to where Jerako pointed. As she watched, the seemingly small birds circled, getting larger and larger. And then they vanished, scattering into the canopy. "That was odd," Jerako said, shrugging.

"No, that was deliberate." Calsa turned and ran toward where she could hear Alt's voice calling to his fellow Ha'trin. She came around the corner of one of the houses when a loud cawing sound stopped her dead in her tracks. From the trees around them, large dark forms dropped to the ground in a flurry of black feathers. The giant bird people tilted their heads, their bony hands pulling out long, cruelly curved and serrated weapons. With loud caws and screeches, they attacked the surprised Ha'trin.

For just a second, Calsa saw Alt through the flurry of feathers, the bird people lunging at him. "No!" Calsa cried out before a hand grabbed her around the mouth and jerked her back around the building. She was spun around to look at Jerako. He put his finger to his lips.

"What are you doing?" Calsa snarled, trying to get up once he'd let go of her mouth.

"Saving us! They don't notice us, which means we have the element of surprise! Let's go grab the others and we can attack from the flanks, they won't be expecting that!" He stood and started running away from the battle. With a scowl of contempt, Calsa quickly pushed herself up and ran after him.

Together, they burst into the student safehouse, where the apprentices knew to go if there was a threat of attack. "Guys! Grab your weapons! We gotta help them!" Jerako pushed a rug on the ground out of the way, jerking the hidden door open. Under the floorboards was hidden a stash of guns. He kneeled down, pulling them out one by one and tossing them at the other apprentices.

"What are you doing? We gotta stay in here! Let the Masters deal with it!" one of the boys yelled incredulously.

Calsa glared at him. "If we don't get out there and help then there won't be any Masters left to teach us! They're outnumbered and taken by surprise. We have a chance to even the odds. These aren't beasts of magic. Our guns will be enough to stop them!" She cocked hers, turning to head out the door.

Jerako was right behind her, placing a cartridge into the butt of the gun and cocking it. The other boys looked amongst themselves. Bezin abruptly leapt to his feet. "I'm not letting those two get away with all the glory!" He rushed out the door. In a sudden stampede, the other boys dashed after him, following Calsa and Jerako around the backs of the houses.

Reaching the longhouse where the main fighting was going on, Jerako and Calsa stopped, squatting down. They checked their weapons to ensure they wouldn't jam. Their eyes flicked up silently, knowing that they were ready. Calsa turned as the other boys quietly joined them. Using her hands, she pointed to a few of them and motioned for them to follow her. Together, they hurried around to the other side of the longhouse, making sure that they evenly flanked the intruders.

Calsa glanced back at Jerako. As one, the boys let their voices be heard, rushing forward. The bird people were startled, cawing loudly. They had managed to herd the mostly unarmed Ha'trin together, though even without weapons the Ha'trin were a handful, perfectly capable of defending themselves with their own bodies. Turning to see where this new threat was coming from, the tall, black feathered creatures squawked in pain and surprise. Sure enough, the guns were nearly completely silent with no kickback.

 
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