Without hesitation, she opened the door and slipped inside.
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The two large hearths of the tavern glowed faintly, the coals banked for the night. There was only one candle lit, standing in a holder next to the dozing form of Kamdon, the tavern keeper. Forms large and small slept on the long tables, unable to afford a room, or unable to stagger home. The rough straw, thick over the dirt of the floor, trampled flat by so many, muffled her passing.
No more than a shadow, she glided across the large room to the stairs in the back corner. She stopped before the door, her breath still within her, uncertain and yet, completely at ease.
There was something familiar about this voice. Maybe an uncle or sibling she had never known. She could not place it, and yet every fiber of her being knew it, responded to it. It was a simple tavern room, two beds, each with a chest at the foot, a small table under the shuttered window. There was a form on the one bed. In what little moonlight filtered through the closed window, she could make out the sprawled figure of a man.
One line of light lit on his cheek, illuminating enough of his face for her to recognize him as the stranger who had staggered into the village late the previous day. He had worn an old cloak over leggings and a shirt, all the same uniform brown. The voice came from the other bed, from the bundle of rough cloth. Two strides of her long legs and she was at the bed.
Sitting on the lumpy mattress, she reached for the bundle. Her heart raced, pounding within her breast, heaving with gulps of air. Frantic, unable to stop herself, she unwrapped the cloth with trembling hands. Swallowing a lump in her throat as the last shred of wool fell away, she saw that which called to her.
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But unlike any she had ever seen. The blade was thick, just wider than the palm of her hand, and sharpened on both sides with a groove running up the center traced with intricate scrollwork. The hilt was made for two large hands with room to spare, at least the length of her forearm, leather wrapped and well worn. The cross-guard and pommel were of thick metal, both delicately carved.
The guard depicting roses engulfed in flames and the pommel was fashioned as the head of a hunting cat, proud and stern. The idea of this being her weapon was ridiculous, for though she was tall for a woman, and stronger than other girls her age from years helping in and around the forge, she would still never be able to lift such a massive weapon let alone wield it. A shutter was opening, a body slinking inside. Her heart raced for the second time that evening as two eyes, gleaming in the faint light of the moon turned toward her.
The figure was covered in black cloth, a mask covering hair and face save for the eyes.
A knife appeared in a black-clad hand and a heartbeat later was spiraling through the air. Time slowed, and in between the pounding beats of her heart, she watched the knife as it tumbled end over end inexorably toward her. In the next moment, Senia found herself standing, the knife embedded deeply in the door to the room, Emberthorn held easily in her small, fine hands.
How easily it had moved, so quickly, knocking the knife from the air. For the next set of heartbeats, the room was silent and still as the assassin, girl, and man each absorbed the impossible made real. You see, I was meant for you , Emberthorn said, the words echoing in her head accompanied by what sounded like purring.
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The man in the bed was up in a heartbeat and a swift high kick sent the still stunned assassin tumbling back out of the window. He turned to her then. The man spun another kick, his foot captured by the attacker in black. Test Drive: Scion iM. Scion recently dropped their all-new iM into the marketplace. The car's general shape feels very derivative of Lexus' CTh. First Drive: Scion iM. When Scion first revealed the production-model iM at the New York Auto Show this year, my interest level was immediately piqued.
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Phenomenal pick up and go.. Is this review useful? He who is a scion , ingrafted into this noble, generous stock, cannot but grow. I felt that, since you were a scion of the Apostolic order, you had possibly acted in remembrance of Philip's example, and that, when you saw that the time was John was a native of Antioch in Syria-Coele, son of Secundus and Anthusa, and scion of a noble family in that country.
Scion 1 Occurrence. Noah Webster's Dictionary. A small shoot or scion of a tree inserted in another tree, the stock of which is to support and nourish it. Something cut, cut off, or cut out, as a twig or scion cut off from a stock for the purpose of grafting or of rooting as an independent plant A cutting; a scion.