I’ve never killed a human before. I had thought that it would be little different from killing a wolf or a beast. I kill or be killed, and yet this young man spoke. He sounded just like the men of our village, perhaps with a slightly different accent, but he is intelligent. He is alive.
He called memiss. And now I shall kill him. Simply because I must kill someone someday so why not start now?
I reach down, rubbing my thumb across the slot in my ax where the metal joins to the wood hilt. This is why the blood rite exists, so that I will be free to get my hesitations and qualms out of the way here in the safety of my village and surrounded by allies instead of on the battlefield. Best I balk now, still I wish I wouldn’t balk at all.
Tira didn’t seem to, although she seems to almost regret it now.
I dare a glance at her as I stride past. Her lips move with the chanting, but they turn up slightly with a smile. She offers me a wink.
I wish I had asked her more about her blood rite earlier. Did her father tell her anything to help her get through it? Did he impart a secret of the universe that somehow makes your first kill easier?
I wish my own father was here so that I could ask, but he joined the forebearers long ago, leaving me to seek out the secrets of the universe on my own.
I know that the path through our village from my hut to the meeting hall has not shrunk, and yet it seems shorter as I walk it. Dread threatening to weigh down each step as I come upon the double carved doors. They are etched with dragons and wolves and bears which stare at me with lifeless wooden eyes, witnessing my hesitation.
I ball my hand into a fist before releasing my fingers and grasping the horn shaped handle and yanking it open.
Immediately, smoke assaults my eyes and burning incense threatens to choke me. Still, past the tears forming in my eyes from the sting of the smoke, I can make out the men of my village have made a line. Some beat a steady tone on drums while others chant. The main hall is dark and hazy from the fire pit in the center. Kneeling in front of it with a rope binding his wrists it is the Imperial.
MyImperial.
My first kill.
I force my legs forward before too much can be read in my hesitation. If my kin read even a second of hesitation, I will be growing a garden of herbs before I know it. After all, they need a seer more than a warrior. I must pass this rite and be welcomed in the ranks of our fighters before my visions are discovered.
They are becoming more intrusive, and I don’t know how long I can continue to keep them a secret.
As if conjured by my thoughts, I feel a heavy cloud settle across my mind, blocking out my thoughts. This cloud brings a vision of its own, one that flashes behind my eyes. I press them shut groaning inwardly. No, not now.
It is believed by everyone, but Tira, that I did not inherit the powers of a seer, or that if I did, it is such an insignificant amount of foresight that it would do no one any good.
This is believed because I have lied, and I have lied, and I have lied. All in an attempt to escape the fate of becoming my mother, but no matter how much I lie, I cannot make the visions go away.
The visions persist, and this particular vision floods my senses, despite the fact that I have my eyes pressed shut. The next thing I know, I am somewhere else entirely. It’s dark, I can make out a flickering fire. I’m viewing this world as if through someone’s eyes. The person turns to take in a companion sitting beside them. It’s an imperial boy with a mop of curly dark hair on his head. He has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but there is something about him that is distinctly familiar.
It takes me a second to place, but then suddenly I realize that it’s the imperial captive. Most Imperials look alike with their olive toned skin and dark hair and eyes, but the boy in my vision is young and has a sort of innocence in his eyes.
He laughs at something and reaches out toward me. I would pull back, but since this is only a vision, I know that it does no good to try to move.
The vision will follow its course no matter where I try to flee to.
He appears to be wiping at something, but pauses, his lips parting slightly. His eyes reflecting the firelight spark with something.
Desire?
Just then, the vision rotates so that I am no longer viewing through the eyes of the person by the fire. Instead, it turns just enough to get a look at the girl sitting with the Imperial.
She has golden hair caught up in braids and blue paint smeared across her face, matching her ice-cold eyes. Her nose is sharp and severe, and her face is turned up in an uncharacteristic smile.
My heart stalls. It’s me.
I’m sitting there at the fire with the boy I’m going to kill. I’m smiling at him and allowing him to wipe grease from my face.
I’m so shocked that my eyes fly open, however, when I open them the world around me has disappeared, instead I am staring at myself. I’m lying in the snow, black liquid trickling from the corners of my mouth. My eyes are blank and vacant. Crows circle around my corpse before one lands next to me. It hops toward me, tilts its head then rips its beak into my flesh. The sound of cawing grows louder as scores of the birds descend upon me.
I pull back, blinking repeatedly and look down to realize that I’m still in the main hall. The others don’t appear to have noticed my divergence from reality. I’d kept walking through my vision, and now I find myself standing over the Imperial.
Up this close I can see that his hair has slight golden hues on certain strands. I know I shouldn’t allow myself to dwell on it, but my mind flicks back to the vision. Not the one that showed me dead, but the one that showed me beside the Imperial. Happy.
