Hecate ate the mid-day meal in silence, questions churning
in her head. How could the Oracle be ill? Could her Handmaidens help
her? Was she sick at all? If she was, how? If not, why the ruse? And
what was Sister Helene’s soldier doing there? Protect the Oracle?
From what? Or who? And why call on Helene?
She frowned, finishing
her meal. The time was 1330 hours. Half past one in the afternoon
and, according to Io, she was free until the Elite Sisters met at
1530. Two more hours with these questions in my head, she thought,
exhaling through her nose. Well, we know how to fix that.
At 1340
hours she was in the training ground, holding another class for more
advanced adepts. At 1358, she was examining the gash she had placed
on a girl’s forehead and determined no stitches would be needed. At
1409, she was reviving a girl she had knocked unconscious. At 1422,
she was popping a trainee’s shoulder back into its socket. At 1431,
she taught the students how to use two short knives to confuse then
eliminate a target. At 1433, she was wrapping a wound on the right
hand of an adept. This would require stitches. At least fifteen. At
1440, she decided to return to her quarters to prepare for the meeting.
At that same time, the twelve girls she had sparred with breathed
a collective sigh of relief.
Hecate exited her rooms, washed and wearing
a clean stealth suit, and headed underground to the meeting of the
Hand Elite. While the Knives of Artemis had a palatial estate, sitting
atop a hill on one of Peregrine Island’s satellites, all business
was conducted under the Earth within the tunnels and caves that crisscrossed
Paragon City. It was a holdover to those ancient times when the Sisterhood
was new and secrecy was akin to survival. Through the long centuries
some changes occurred. The Knives had become renowned, feared and
in some cases admired. But old, timeworn habits, such as meeting underground,
were part of who they were. It is as it was.
She made her way into
the tunnel, deeper into the Earth with every memorized step, twisting
back and forth, around and down, until at last the close curved walls
opened onto a small, round cave. It wasn’t large, maybe a fifteen
foot circle of rock. The cave walls were a deep gray yet dancing with
light, reflected from a large crystal that sat surrounded by four
large overstuffed black leather chairs, three already occupied by
the other Elite Sisters.
Sister Tera smiled in greeting. She was a
large, jolly, elephantine woman with a loud boisterous laugh. Her
brown eyes always seemed to twinkle at some unspoken joke and she
was as quick witted and sharp tongued as she was corpulent. Despite
her great size, Sister Tera was light on her feet and once in her
grasp, her great strength would seal one’s fate.
But where Sister
Tera was loud and large, Sister Jen was slender and pristine. A delicate
Asian woman, her features appeared to carved from fine porcelain and
her straight white hair shimmered like albedo. She rarely spoke but
her silence, at times, could be deafening and a look was able to bring
the offender to her knees. And, as she sat, unmoving and serene, her
sword rested as always across her knees.
"Let us begin, shall we?"
the third woman spoke. Sister Helene was tall and lean, skinny, if
one was pressed to describe her, with a long aquiline nose. Her mousy
brown hair was either in a bun, with two very sharp sticks holing
in in place, or a top knot ponytail, clasped with a silver beret which
was also a razor sharp knife.
Hecate smiled and took her place. She
gazed silently at Helene. She was a fellow Elite Sister and beyond
reproach but there was always something about her that bothered Hecate.
She would, of course, defend her life to the death but Helene… Helene
enjoyed the combat, the infliction of pain a bit too much for her
taste, but Hecate sighed inwardly and returned her attention to the
matters at hand.
The four sister assassins discussed the operation
of their home, supplies that were needed, weapons that had become
available from brokers. The new recruits were assigned to one another’s
cadres and training schedules were determined. It was all routine
and Sister Hecate found it difficult to pay any attention to it. Her
mind was still adrift on a sea of questions.
"So…are there any other
matters to be addressed?" Helene asked calmly and her eyes locked
onto Hecate.
Hecate frowned. It was almost as if she were being dared
to speak. The assassin cleared her throat. "Yes," she gazed sidelong
at the two other Sisters, "why have you not informed us of the Oracle’s
illness and why is one of your warriors guarding our beloved?"
"What?!?"
Tera and Jen exclaimed at practically the same time.
"The Oracle is
ill?" Sister Tera was almost out of her seat. "When did this happen?"
Sister Jen’s expression returned to its normal calm facade. "Explain,
Sister," she said regally although her eyes were narrowed with suspicion.
The fluttering of a grin passed over Helene’s lips and then, to Hecate
at least, she made a show of concern. "I only found out about this
yesterday. I was near her tower and one of her handmaidens informed
me of her condition." She smiled sweetly. "I decided to place one
of my personal guard to ensure the handmaids time to care for their
mistress and to see that the Oracle is not disturbed during her sickness
or recovery."
"And why have you not informed us?" Jen asked, her head
high and looking down her nose at her Sister.
"I did not wish to cause
a panic. Our Oracle is very…important to our sisters. News like this
would be most disturbing."
Hecate’s face betrayed nothing. All the
reasons Helene gave were plausible, but they did not ring true to
her ears.
Helene stared at Hecate again and asked in her heavy English
accent, "I hope I have done the right thing." She smiled again, her
lips dripping honey and venom.
Sister Tera looked between Jen and
Hecate. She was not happy but there was nothing to be done. "Very
well," she nodded, "we shall wait one day, agreed?" Hecate, Jen and
Helene nodded. "If the Oracle is not recovered or improving, we shall
inform the Sisterhood at large and a new course of action will be
determined."
The four sisters concurred and the meeting was adjourned.
As Hecate moved to exit she turned her head slightly, looking at Helene
without the other woman noticing. Helene still sat, her lips pursed,
one corner of her mouth turned up. Hecate turned away, biting her
bottom lip. That was not a smile. It was a sneer. Hecate made her
way back to her rooms to prepare for the Assignment Congress, dread
keeping step at her side.
Ten minutes before the Congress gathering
a knocking roused Hecate from the fitful nap she was trying to take.
She ran her hand through her short, spiky blonde locks and opened
her door. Sabine and her twin Nakita, along with eight other women,
waited for their mistress to join them for the walk underground to
the great hall. Hecate smiled warmly at her two daughters and nodded
in greeting to the rest of her personal guard. She retreated briefly
to retrieve her sword then purposefully strode forward, the women
parting before her and coming into two columned formation behind her.
They walked down into the same tunnel Hecate had used to attend the
meeting of the Elite Sisters. But where she turned left before she
now bore to the right. The winding path of glittering stone walls
sloped down sharply and they marched deeper into the earth. Here and
there, fissures glowed red with bubbling molten rock, sending eerie
shadows dancing upon the smooth stone. The path twisted and turned,
up and down, until finally they came to the wooden frame of a large
gate, its planked double doors already standing open. They walked
through and into an immense cave.
There were only one hundred Knives
of Artemis, a number and a secret that was closely guarded. All, excepting
those on missions, were gathered now. They stood with their cadres,
their voices low in murmured conversation. Hecate took her place with
the rest of her cadre, her girls, as she called them, smiling in hello
and calling each of them by name, saving her warmest greetings for
her two other adopted daughters, Vicca and Drea. After her acknowledgements
were done, she surveyed the rest of the cave.
It was huge. Stalagmites
and stalactites stretched from floor to ceiling, a distance of at
least 500 yards. The rounded floor of the cave was interspersed with
the same fissures of melted earth that were present in the tunnels
and from the wood planked entrance to its rear the cave was the size
of more than two football fields. Toward the back of the cave, where
most of the Sisters faced, a raised flat rock formed a natural stage.
Crystals imbedded in the walls reflected the natural light, brightening
the damp cavern.
Hecate nodded across the wide expanse to Sister Jen
and again, toward the other side, to Sister Tera. Both women stood
among their cadres, gazing calmly back and forth over their gathered
charges. She saw Sister Helene’s group but the Knife leader was nowhere
to be seen. Suddenly there was movement at the rock-formed stage and
Sister Hecate squinted a suspicious eye as Helene walked slowly to
the center of the raised stone.
"Sisters!" Helene called out, causing
conversation to cease and becoming the center of attention. She smiled
thinly as she looked out over the assembled women. "Sisters," she
continued, "the Oracle is…indisposed…at the moment and has asked me
to convey her apologies and warmest wishes to you all." Helene grinned
broadly, flashing feral, sparkling white teeth. "And she has charged
me with delivering the Goddess’s instructions."
Almost as one, the
collected Sisters started in surprise. The cavern filled with the
low buzz of whispers. Although it was out of the ordinary, there were
no feelings of concern, mistrust or misgiving among the Knives.
Except
to one.
Sister Hecate stared intently at Helene, her mind spinning.
She glanced quickly at Tera and Jen, both of whom looked almost as
surprised as she did. She was about to speak when Helene resumed,
her voice immediately silencing the women.
"I know it is out of the
ordinary but it has become my duty." Helene chose her words carefully.
She knew that ‘duty’ carried great meaning to these before her. "I
will fulfill it," she nodded grimly to herself. "Now then…our mission."
Helene looked down into her audience trying to meet the eyes of every
woman. She paused as her eye fell on Hecate. A tiny smile, barely
turning up the corners of her thin lips, played quickly across her
face. Staring, she continued, her voice filling the cave.
"There is
a child. A baby, really. She is born of power. But her mother…she
fears the child. So she mistreats her, beats her. The Goddess bids
us to retrieve this little soul."
"So, we will raise this child?"
a voice called from the crowd before her.
Helene smiled sweetly and
shook her head. "No, the Goddess has decreed that an outside agency
shall be responsible for the child. The Knives of Artemis will be
well compensated for our part, but the baby is not for us."
Among
the confused expressions and whispered questions of her Sisters, Hecate’s
brow furrowed with concern. The Goddess had never made a request like
this. The Oracle had never voiced instructions like these. The bad
feeling she had earlier in the day at the Oracle’s tower grew stronger,
insistent, an almost physical burden she felt upon her back.
Helene
raised her hands and the throng fell silent. "I know, I know. But…it
is her will." She took a few steps to the left and said, "This is
the child." With a wave of her hand a photograph was projected on
the flat wall behind the stage. As the picture became clear, Helene
zeroed in on Hecate’s face and she was pleased with her reaction.
Hecate’s eyes flew open in shock, perfectly synchronized with her
shape intake of breath. The baby in the picture had the deep red skin
of her father. She had seen her before. This was Tropic’s child. Tropic,
her old friend and enemy whom she had know through many of the long
years of her life. Tropic, who had given his life to save the city
and perhaps the world and who the Goddess had sent her to help with
a knowledge only she had.
Hecate remembered the aftermath of that
final battle, the funeral procession that passed through the streets.
She had seen for herself that woman, WillowWind, her expression, the
way she carried herself. She had seen her from afar a few months later
and saw her pregnancy. And several months after that had seen her
with the baby in a park walking with that red-headed horned woman,
her dear friend, Valya. It was Tropic’s daughter. And no mother doted
on or loved a child more that this WillowWind person.
Hecate turned
from the picture and stared directly into Helene’s eyes. At that moment
she realized the terrible truth. The Oracle’s handmaidens were dead.
The Oracle, while still alive, was probably a captive or being killed
slowly so as not to raise the Sisterhood’s suspicions. This mission
would solidify Helene’s position within the Knives and the ‘outside
agency’ with which she had contracted for this mission had paid her
enough to ensure her power. A power Helene had craved since her arrival
among them.
Hecate gritted her teeth. Proof? None. Certainty? Absolute.
She knew also that there was the gaping maw of a trap spread out in
front of her and Helene had made it impossible for her not to step
into it. She blew her breath out through her nose. She chewed her
lower lip. Then she sealed her fate.
"WAIT!" Hecate called out, her
voice loud and strong, commanding the attention of all. She felt the
eyes of the Sisters staring quizzically at her. Hecate spoke softly
yet was heard throughout the cavern. "I know this child…and I have
seen her with her mother." She glanced briefly to her left and right.
"She is not abused."
There was an audible gasp from the Knife mercenaries.
Helene could scarcely conceal her glee. She composed herself quickly
and called down in mock question and confusion, "What? Do you call
our Oracle a…a…liar?"
"No, of course not," Hecate answered curtly.
The gathered Knives stared at their most dangerous warrior, their
eyes narrowed to slits of concern, question and shock. "But perhaps,"
Hecate continued, "perhaps she is…mistaken." The trap’s mouth opened
wider. The assassin took another step into its darkness.
Helene was
giddy with delight. Hecate was tying her own noose about her neck,
just as she had plotted earlier. Helene knew the answer Hecate would
give to her next question and then any obstacle to her power would
be gone.
Helene straightened, holding her head high as though she
had been insulted. "Mistaken?" she asked, her voice thick with astonishment.
"She is the very tongue of Artemis, our Goddess, the source of our
strength, our power." She stared about the huge cave. The performance
neared its end and Helene drew herself up, trying to appear as righteous
as her words. "Do you believe that our infallible Goddess, Artemis,
is mistaken also?" Helene smirked as she waited for the assassin’s
only answer.
Hecate sighed. The deep dark trap now had a gallows at
its center. She looked up, her eye’s boring holes through Helene’s
face. "In this instance, I am afraid so."
Pandemonium engulfed the
cavern. The shocked words of her Sisters fell upon her like the unerring
blows of her mightiest enemy. Amid the maelstrom swirling around her,
her right hand moved underneath a small compartment beneath her belt.
Her fingers curled up, silently unsnapping it and several tiny black
spheres dropped into her palm.
Helene’s face became a well acted mask
of shock and anger. She pointed down from the stage, her bony finger
stabbing across the distance at Hecate’s heart. "Blasphemer!" she
cried. "You ungrateful, traitorous wretch!" Helene motioned to her
guards and then to all the Knives of Artemis in the cavern. "Seize
her! After we have completed our mission this foul creature will…"
Hecate had stopped listening. Her Sisters were closing in on her,
ready to take her into custody. She saw Helene’s guards making their
way through the crowd toward her. She saw the reaching hands of her…her
family, blindly following orders. She raised her right hand above
her head and shouted out, "FORGIVE ME, SISTERS!!" and threw the black
spheres to the ground at her feet.
There was a large flash and smoke
filled the chamber. At the moment the balls exploded, Hecate pressed
a button on her belt, activating the suit’s stealth mode, becoming
invisible to the women surrounding her. She turned on her heel and,
roughly shoving the Knives out of her path, ran from the chaos in
the cave.
On the stage, Helene screamed out instructions. "Fan out!
Seal the exits above and throughout the tunnels. She must be caught!"
The smoke filling the room dissipated and she held her hands high.
"The black mark is on her head." Helene looked hard at her Sisters.
"Death. Kill on sight."