A short story
By Kiley Kellermeyer
Author's Note: My writer's group (whom I love - always join a writer's group if you can!) recently took part in a writing prompt based on this spectacular piece of art by Ariel Burgess. The point was to tell a story in a limited amount of words (roughly 1000) that encompassed the scene painted by Ms. Burgess. It was difficult, and seriously fun. -Kiley
See more from Ariel on her website.
“You killed him.” It was the first time Avriel’s cellmate had spoken. The man’s voice was dry and raspy and thick with the local accent.
“Maybe.” Avriel watched the rain pound against the tiny window, drumbeats counting the final hours of her life. She looked out across the gleaming city, following a passing SkyCar with her eyes. She could see everything from her high cell in Verne Tower. It was a spectacular view, one most hoped never to see.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” said the cellmate. He coughed a phlegmy cough. “Your armor is red. You killed him.”
“You know your primary colors. How clever you are.” Avriel narrowed her eyes.
“Not clever, but not stupid. You wear the armor of an assassin from Simova. Someone really wanted Emperor Jensan dead. If you’d failed you wouldn’t be in here with me.”
Not clever, indeed. Avriel turned to appraise her cellmate. He was swathed in shadows, but in the light from the single window she could tell he was older than she, with sandy hair and tattered gray clothes. She had been locked in ramshackle brigs with other men and women. Most had heard only vague rumors of the “Scarlet Simovans.” Myths told by fools who know little of what they spoke of. “The Simovans’ red armor grows stronger each time it is bathed in the blood of an enemy,” they said. “The Simovans are trained from birth to love the sight of blood. They wear nothing but their armor, and never take it off, even to bathe.”
Something about this man, however, made Avriel sure he was no mere pickpocket. “I’m here with you, and I am waiting to die,” Avriel said. “I would consider that failure.”
The cellmate coughed again. “But it must have felt good to kill him. The emperor was a merciless ruler, a cold-blooded killer of innocents.”
Avriel hated that notion. As if she could harbor personal grudges against such a vast array of people. She crossed her arms. “I did not take pleasure in it. It was a job I was hired to do.”
“So you do not believe in your heart he deserved to die?”
Avriel cocked her head. “Most of us deserve to die. What I think of Jensan is of no consequence.”
“I’m sure it is,” the cellmate said. “The emperor’s blood is on your hands. Do you not feel it there?”
Her temper snapped before she could stop it. “I don’t care for Jensan or his blood. All that matters is that he’s dead!”
“Many have desired his death.” The man drew a rattling breath. “Jensan has been dead for a long time.”
Avriel eyed him again, studying him with the careful gaze of a trained Simovan assassin. “What of you? Did you desire his death?” she asked.
“I have no love for the emperor.”
Avriel folded her arms. “That is not what I asked.”
The cellmate shifted in his dark corner. His answer came as a growl. “I am glad to see him dead for what he has done.”
Before Avriel could answer, a door opened in the distance. Loud footsteps hammered on the metal floor. The cell door opened to reveal four guards in bulky armor, hovering SkySpheres radiating dim light around them. The lights on the prison ward of Verne were never turned on. Prisoners were kept always in the hopeless dark.
The bulkiest of the guards strode toward Avriel. “Simovan, you are scheduled to die via lethal injection. Should you attempt any violence, I am authorized to kill you by any means necessary.” He smiled a crooked smile just visible behind his visor as he reached for Avriel’s arms.
Her cellmate stood. “Taking my company away, are you?”
“We’ll have a new roomie for you soon enough, Jo,” the guard said.
Avriel was suddenly curious how long her cellmate had been there.
“Just too bad is all. Don’t you want to know who sent her? She just told me.” Avriel glanced at Jo and he nodded slightly. “It was the Emperor’s Second. Shouldn’t you tell someone?”
The guard hesitated for a fraction of a moment. It was all Avriel needed.
She grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked him forward, shattering his visor upon the leg of her spectacular red armor. She brought her knee up into his nose to similar effect, then grabbed his gun from its holster. Before the three guards outside could react, Avriel narrowed her eyes and took three shots into the hall. Jo yelped as each of the SkySpheres shattered, plunging the cell back into relative darkness. Avriel shoved the injured guard into the others as they reached for their weapons. He bowled over two of them and they went down in a heap.
“D-drop your weapon!” cried the remaining guard. Avriel turned her grimace and gun on him. In that second, she could see him take in her red armor; remember all the horrific tales of Simovans he’d heard as a child. He backed up and tripped on the others as they were attempting to stand.
“Come!” Avriel yelled at Jo as she stepped over the flailing bodies. Pathetic, she thought as they hurried from the cell. They didn’t even try.
Avriel knew some of the tower’s layout; however, Jo surprised her with his knowledge of the inner-workings and led her through a labyrinth of stairwells and service platforms, alarms blaring around them. As they ran past a darkened supply room, they grabbed a pair of servant’s cloaks from the wall. “The red armor is useful in many ways, but camouflage is not one of them,” Avriel said as she pulled the cowl over her head. “Let’s go.”
After a day in the dark, damp cell, the city streets felt cool and alive. The rain had slackened. A fine mist shrouded the air and reflected the yellow headlights of the SkyCars. “The city is not safe for either of us. Follow me.”
Jo remained where he was, gaping stupidly into the night sky. “Ten years. I haven’t felt wind or rain for ten years.” He took a deep breath that sent him into a coughing fit.
Avriel watched him a moment longer. “You helped me, so I will help you. The city border isn’t far. Follow me,” she said again, and hurried into the disused backstreets. The man did not follow her immediately, but she had little doubt he would. Ten years…he has nowhere else to go.
Stepping lightly over puddles, Avriel slipped around a corner and waited. She heard him splashing through the water before she saw him. As Jo came into view she darted from her hiding place and pinned him against a wall.
He did not struggle.
“Who are you?” Avriel asked, hand against his throat. “Really. And do not say ‘Jo.’”
“That is what the guards came to call me. They did not know my real name. None were there when I was imprisoned ten years ago.”
“What were you called ten years ago?”
He looked up at the sky, then back into her eyes and said, “Jensan.”
Avriel knew when a man was lying. This one at least thought he was telling the truth. She stepped away and studied him.
“I held limited audiences,” he said. “I ruled from consoles and gave orders through ambassadors. It was a good system. I did not account for the fact that few knew my true nature.”
Avriel thought back to what she knew of the terrible reign of Jensan. They said he was a good man gone mad with power, a fine ruler turned tragically terrible. They said it happened ten years ago. “Someone took your place,” Avriel whispered. “And no one knew.”
“I knew.”
“You are Emperor Jensan.”
“You killed the emperor three days past. The man called Jensan died in that cell.”
Avriel weighed her options, her creed. Somewhere in the near distance sirens wailed, people shouted. What to do?
The man’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Are you going to kill me? Fulfill your contract?”
Avriel knew what she should do, of course. What the creed demanded of her. But a bad man was dead, and a good one lived. Yet the creed required…
“The emperor is dead,” Avriel said. “My job is complete.”
She pulled her hood tight around her head and swept off into the alley, heedless of the puddles and the fallen ruler following in her wake.
By Kiley Kellermeyer
Author's Note: My writer's group (whom I love - always join a writer's group if you can!) recently took part in a writing prompt based on this spectacular piece of art by Ariel Burgess. The point was to tell a story in a limited amount of words (roughly 1000) that encompassed the scene painted by Ms. Burgess. It was difficult, and seriously fun. -Kiley
See more from Ariel on her website.
“You killed him.” It was the first time Avriel’s cellmate had spoken. The man’s voice was dry and raspy and thick with the local accent.
“Maybe.” Avriel watched the rain pound against the tiny window, drumbeats counting the final hours of her life. She looked out across the gleaming city, following a passing SkyCar with her eyes. She could see everything from her high cell in Verne Tower. It was a spectacular view, one most hoped never to see.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” said the cellmate. He coughed a phlegmy cough. “Your armor is red. You killed him.”
“You know your primary colors. How clever you are.” Avriel narrowed her eyes.
“Not clever, but not stupid. You wear the armor of an assassin from Simova. Someone really wanted Emperor Jensan dead. If you’d failed you wouldn’t be in here with me.”
Not clever, indeed. Avriel turned to appraise her cellmate. He was swathed in shadows, but in the light from the single window she could tell he was older than she, with sandy hair and tattered gray clothes. She had been locked in ramshackle brigs with other men and women. Most had heard only vague rumors of the “Scarlet Simovans.” Myths told by fools who know little of what they spoke of. “The Simovans’ red armor grows stronger each time it is bathed in the blood of an enemy,” they said. “The Simovans are trained from birth to love the sight of blood. They wear nothing but their armor, and never take it off, even to bathe.”
Something about this man, however, made Avriel sure he was no mere pickpocket. “I’m here with you, and I am waiting to die,” Avriel said. “I would consider that failure.”
The cellmate coughed again. “But it must have felt good to kill him. The emperor was a merciless ruler, a cold-blooded killer of innocents.”
Avriel hated that notion. As if she could harbor personal grudges against such a vast array of people. She crossed her arms. “I did not take pleasure in it. It was a job I was hired to do.”
“So you do not believe in your heart he deserved to die?”
Avriel cocked her head. “Most of us deserve to die. What I think of Jensan is of no consequence.”
“I’m sure it is,” the cellmate said. “The emperor’s blood is on your hands. Do you not feel it there?”
Her temper snapped before she could stop it. “I don’t care for Jensan or his blood. All that matters is that he’s dead!”
“Many have desired his death.” The man drew a rattling breath. “Jensan has been dead for a long time.”
Avriel eyed him again, studying him with the careful gaze of a trained Simovan assassin. “What of you? Did you desire his death?” she asked.
“I have no love for the emperor.”
Avriel folded her arms. “That is not what I asked.”
The cellmate shifted in his dark corner. His answer came as a growl. “I am glad to see him dead for what he has done.”
Before Avriel could answer, a door opened in the distance. Loud footsteps hammered on the metal floor. The cell door opened to reveal four guards in bulky armor, hovering SkySpheres radiating dim light around them. The lights on the prison ward of Verne were never turned on. Prisoners were kept always in the hopeless dark.
The bulkiest of the guards strode toward Avriel. “Simovan, you are scheduled to die via lethal injection. Should you attempt any violence, I am authorized to kill you by any means necessary.” He smiled a crooked smile just visible behind his visor as he reached for Avriel’s arms.
Her cellmate stood. “Taking my company away, are you?”
“We’ll have a new roomie for you soon enough, Jo,” the guard said.
Avriel was suddenly curious how long her cellmate had been there.
“Just too bad is all. Don’t you want to know who sent her? She just told me.” Avriel glanced at Jo and he nodded slightly. “It was the Emperor’s Second. Shouldn’t you tell someone?”
The guard hesitated for a fraction of a moment. It was all Avriel needed.
She grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked him forward, shattering his visor upon the leg of her spectacular red armor. She brought her knee up into his nose to similar effect, then grabbed his gun from its holster. Before the three guards outside could react, Avriel narrowed her eyes and took three shots into the hall. Jo yelped as each of the SkySpheres shattered, plunging the cell back into relative darkness. Avriel shoved the injured guard into the others as they reached for their weapons. He bowled over two of them and they went down in a heap.
“D-drop your weapon!” cried the remaining guard. Avriel turned her grimace and gun on him. In that second, she could see him take in her red armor; remember all the horrific tales of Simovans he’d heard as a child. He backed up and tripped on the others as they were attempting to stand.
“Come!” Avriel yelled at Jo as she stepped over the flailing bodies. Pathetic, she thought as they hurried from the cell. They didn’t even try.
Avriel knew some of the tower’s layout; however, Jo surprised her with his knowledge of the inner-workings and led her through a labyrinth of stairwells and service platforms, alarms blaring around them. As they ran past a darkened supply room, they grabbed a pair of servant’s cloaks from the wall. “The red armor is useful in many ways, but camouflage is not one of them,” Avriel said as she pulled the cowl over her head. “Let’s go.”
After a day in the dark, damp cell, the city streets felt cool and alive. The rain had slackened. A fine mist shrouded the air and reflected the yellow headlights of the SkyCars. “The city is not safe for either of us. Follow me.”
Jo remained where he was, gaping stupidly into the night sky. “Ten years. I haven’t felt wind or rain for ten years.” He took a deep breath that sent him into a coughing fit.
Avriel watched him a moment longer. “You helped me, so I will help you. The city border isn’t far. Follow me,” she said again, and hurried into the disused backstreets. The man did not follow her immediately, but she had little doubt he would. Ten years…he has nowhere else to go.
Stepping lightly over puddles, Avriel slipped around a corner and waited. She heard him splashing through the water before she saw him. As Jo came into view she darted from her hiding place and pinned him against a wall.
He did not struggle.
“Who are you?” Avriel asked, hand against his throat. “Really. And do not say ‘Jo.’”
“That is what the guards came to call me. They did not know my real name. None were there when I was imprisoned ten years ago.”
“What were you called ten years ago?”
He looked up at the sky, then back into her eyes and said, “Jensan.”
Avriel knew when a man was lying. This one at least thought he was telling the truth. She stepped away and studied him.
“I held limited audiences,” he said. “I ruled from consoles and gave orders through ambassadors. It was a good system. I did not account for the fact that few knew my true nature.”
Avriel thought back to what she knew of the terrible reign of Jensan. They said he was a good man gone mad with power, a fine ruler turned tragically terrible. They said it happened ten years ago. “Someone took your place,” Avriel whispered. “And no one knew.”
“I knew.”
“You are Emperor Jensan.”
“You killed the emperor three days past. The man called Jensan died in that cell.”
Avriel weighed her options, her creed. Somewhere in the near distance sirens wailed, people shouted. What to do?
The man’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Are you going to kill me? Fulfill your contract?”
Avriel knew what she should do, of course. What the creed demanded of her. But a bad man was dead, and a good one lived. Yet the creed required…
“The emperor is dead,” Avriel said. “My job is complete.”
She pulled her hood tight around her head and swept off into the alley, heedless of the puddles and the fallen ruler following in her wake.
