Fate of a White Flower

Chapter Two

   The man carrying the chest trudged on hurriedly through a dark passage. The box in his hands seemed to increase in weight with each step and he adjusted his grip to carry it better. Maybe it was just his nervousness that was causing it but he constantly kept looking over his shoulder with the uneasy feeling that he was being followed. The darkness did not reveal and he continued on, holding his lamp in front of him to illuminate his path. He came across two guards who were standing sentry in front of a large wooden door. Their faces were grim and intimidating and they each held a flaming torch in one hand and a lance in the other. As soon as they saw him, they crossed their weapons in front of him.

   The man halted long enough to hold up the golden chest up for them to see. The guards inspected the bids and eyed the man warily before acquiescing and opening the door to let him pass. After he had gone through, they were about to shut the heavy door but a soft clanging noise made them stop. The guards immediately became alert and pointed their weapons in the direction of the noise. In the darkness, they could not see anything further than a few feet in front of them with their torches. Both men looked at each other and nodded in understanding before taking slow steps forward while placing the flaming sticks on holsters that had been fixed to the walls. Their hands clutched their spears tightly and they looked carefully for anything even remotely suspicious.

   From the darkness, a gentle gust of wind blew through the passage, putting out one of the lights and setting them on edge. One of the guards moved quickly and relit the extinguished torch, only to turn around and find his partner missing. Danger signals blared in his head and he spun around in a futile attempt to find the man. From above a drop of blood fell onto his his shoulder and stained the brown cloak he was wearing. His eyes went up and widened at the sight above him; his partner hung suspended from the  dark ceiling by a chain around his neck with blood trickling from his mouth. The man's eyes and mouth were open in an unending soundless scream of horror.

   The end of the chain was in the hands of one of four shadowy figures climbing like spiders on the ceiling, their eyes fixated coldly on him. Before the guard could move, the shadows flickered past him and he fell on his back. The torch clattered noisily to the floor and rolled out of his limp hand. It stopped a few inches away from his motionless body, the orange flames casting light on the dead man's face. His mouth was open, like his deceased partner, in a shout that was never heard and blood pooled around his head, leaking from the deep horizontal slit across his throat.

   The shadows continued tailing the man with the chest as he moved deeper and deeper into the building. When they reached a point where the passage went in two ways, the group silently divided with two of them continuing after the man. The other pair went down the other hallway. They had their plan mapped out and memorized, each of them knew where they were supposed to go and what they were to do to achieve their aim in this mission.

   The man finally stopped in front of a black door and knocked over before waiting for an answer. He had reached the last point of his transportation assignment. Now all that remained was for him hand over the box to his superior. Inside the room, a young woman sat in a lotus position in the middle of the carpeted floor. She was dressed in black form fitting clothes that showed off her incredible figure with a long black overcoat that was unbuttoned, leaving the material to pool behind her. Her dark hair was rolled up and held in place be two long needless. Two locks of hair hung loosely on both sides of her face that was adorned with the barest hint of makeup. An unsheathed katana lay in front of her, its thin edge glinting with with dangerous sharpness.

   The sound of the man's knock broke the woman out of her meditation. Her eyelids flicked open revealing cold black eyes that reflected her ruthless nature. She rose and opened the door to state pointedly at the man. His knees went weak under her cold gaze and his words came out unsteadily.

   "I bring the artifact," he said and offered the chest to her. The woman watched him closely with an intimidating gaze for a while before collecting the box and carrying it easily with one slender hand.

   "Were there any interruptions during your journey?"she asked slowly.

   "No, none at all," the man hurriedly replied. He did not want to antagonize the woman before him. If the leader of the organization could be said to be a merciless queen, then this woman could be accurately called her ruthless regent. Whilst she was not the leader herself, she had enough strength to solidify her position as second-in-command.

   "Good. Now leave me. On your way out, go to the west wing and tell them to bring the girl here."

   The man bowed in respect and hastened back the way he had come. The woman brought the box into the room and placed it on a table at a corner of the room. She ran her hands lightly over the edges of the lid in admiration of the fine craftsmanship. An urge came to her to open tee the box and take a look inside, if only out of curiosity but she immediately suppressed it. Only her mistress had the right to open the chest and utilize its content and she had no intention of disobeying her orders any time soon.

   Besides, there was something else that required her attention at the moment.

   The instant the hairs on the back of her neck rose, she spun around and at the same time raised her sword to block the spear that had been thrown at her from behind. A figure materialized from the ceiling and caught the spear midair. He placed the blunt end of the weapon on the floor and used it as a pivot to push himself towards the woman in av dropkick. She used the flat of her blade to stop the attack and pushed him back, utilizing the opportunity to properly analyze her opponent. The dark robed figure landed carefully and held his spear upright beside him.

   Another dark figure appeared near him, dressed in the same manner and wielding a long slender katana. The woman's eyes narrowed in recognition once she saw the blade. She knew who they were and had encountered them multiple times in the past, none of which had been on peaceful terms. She would be a fool to think she would be able to engage both of them at once. The fact that they were still alive despite being active enemies of her mistress spoke volumes of their strength. Their skill was nothing to laugh at either. That fool of a wagon driver must have unknowingly led them here. And he had dared to say there had been no complications. A frown appeared on her face as she raised her sword and entered a fighting stance. She would kill the driver as soon as she was done here.

   "So you've managed to find your way into here? Very well then. As my mistress has ordered me, I will offer you one chance to turn around and leave before I end your wretched lives," she stated while maintaining her grip on her sword's handle.

   The katana-wielding assassin turned to his colleague. "Go and help the others. I'll handle this one."

   The other assassin nodded and jumped back, disappearing into the darkness once more. The one with the sword then turned to the young woman and twirled his sword in a silver circle, the faint outline of a smile was visible through his mask. Her jaw clenched in suppressed frustration. He was mocking as if he has already won the battle.

   "You hide your face like a coward while fighting. Is that what you call honor?"

   The assassin chuckled and held up his sword. "Why do you care? It's not like you haven't seen enough of my face already."

   She dashed towards him and swung the sword at his head. He parried the strike with his own blade and attempted to cut off her arm but she deflected the blow easily with a flick of her wrist. The assassin smiled to himself; she had fallen right into his trap. With a quick jerk of the knee, he kicked the woman in the gut and sent her tumbling backwards. She landed gracefully on her feet, her body crouched low like a feline set to pounce. The assassin stood directly in front of the door and held up his blade with both hands. The message was clear: she would not be getting through that door any time soon.