The matte gold Sheredyn scout ship, drifted amongst ice crystals of a shattered asteroid. The ship was a modified Zolya class patrol vessel, fitted with better warp drives and shields than its Empire brothers. That fact, its swift design, did not save its crew from the hunter that prowled between the bulkheads. Its steel halls were empty, the metallic tang of blood was thick on the air. 

In the ships Conning Station, Taal Smerov was slumped on the deck, back against the ships helm, paralysed by a poisoned blade. His attacker crouched before him, staring keenly from behind a mask, her feathers raised in the thought.

She sat on the deck in front of him, with her legs crossed and with her back to the view screen. She unsheathed a blade from her belt and placed it near him, close enough for him to see the etchings. She carefully placed a speaker beside her, then opened a small device and began writing with its stylus. As she wrote, the speaker at her side began to translate the words in a cold artificial voice.

 “The sword I place before you I forged myself. It is not one of the fabled blades that writes its owners saga or prophesizes their future. I have carved my story into its blade with my own hands. I will tell you this story because it starts with you and by the end, you will die knowing that it is you who caused your own death.”

She paused and watched him. He could only stare back, unable to move a muscle.

“You don’t remember me, a mindless killer like you never remembers the lives they take. I am hissho, I am a hunter and I have always remembered you. You came to my world many cycles ago and razed my nest and village to the ground. You laughed with your flock as you killed mine, you burnt hatchlings in their brood chambers and lined fledglings up against the walls before you shot them. But you forgot me. You pushed me from the top of a building and thought me dead.

My body was broken and I could not move. I waited for days before I was rescued, sipping on rainwater from a puddle. My body healed eventually, young as I was, but my spirit was unbalanced. I was shunned by others, dishonoured by having survived the death of my clan. I was shamed by a failure not my own and it was caused by you. The rage I felt I cannot describe. It got me into trouble more than once. I was beaten for lashing out at others, chastised for not shutting my beak, expelled from nests who tried to help me.

The Way of the Red Blade couldn’t discipline me, and no amount of my blood given to the Order of the Obsidian Eagle could douse my burning shame. It was on my darkest day as I contemplated sacrificing myself when an old hissho approached me. He did not speak but beckoned me and I followed.”

She paused again, noticing the colour coming back to Taals’ face as the paralysing drug wore off. She drew a short blade and pricked his skin, which quickly went numb again. 

Have you ever heard of the House of the Silent Wing? It is a small school, not as prestigious or as common as the others. Every hatchling grows up on stories about them, played amongst the nests pretending to be them, jumping from the shadows, I know I did. Most have never knowingly met a hissho of that school, they keep to their villages which are often difficult to get to and most are on Uchi. They tend their farms and only communicate by sign language. They do however have eyes and ears everywhere. They revealed themselves to me, saw my needs and took me to Uchi, saving me from an untimely death.”

She raised her head, showing her neck and the scar that crossed her throat.

“They cut out my voice, it was a painful rite but I did not cry out. I burnt the remains on a small pyre, a sacrifice to the gods, thanking them for my good fortune. Finally, with the world silent around me I was at long last able to focus and control myself.

I set myself a task, I quickly learnt many things and forged the sword before you. The House of the Silent Wing is sometimes called upon by the Tokso to eliminate people in quiet ways. With their intelligence and training I was able to trace the people who were with you that day. Have you not noticed that those who were with you then have disappeared one by one? You are all that remains and like them, you will be sacrificed to great Tonatsi, for my blade might not prophesise the future, but I have etched your death into it already and I will not fail. 

I will use your blood to sow the land around that razed village and tend my own farm, ready to serve the Tokso when they call for me.”

She looked up and watched him for several long moments. She sheathed her sword and put away the speaker and device. Finally she stood, drawing a different short blade and with it pricked the bare skin at his neck. The blade was laced with an agent and Taal Smerov quickly succumbed to unconscious sleep.

Taal Smerov came to with the sound of the wind whistling across mountains, his knees and shins ached from kneeling on a stone floor. His armour had been removed, his skin bare and prickling from the cold air. He opened his eyes to find himself bound by a chain to a stone plaza at the top of a stepped temple carved into the side of a mountain. It was dawn and he took a deep breath of the cold mountain air and eyed the large bowl laid in front of him, his captor sat opposite him.

As the sky grew brighter, the sun Tonatsi ready to rise above the horizon, his captor unsheathed her blade, bringing it close so he could see the final etching, the self fulfilled prophecy of his captor sacrificing him to the sun. She slowly stood and walked behind him, a clawed hand reaching out to grasp his hair and pull his head back to bear his neck. The bright disc of Tonatsi finally rose in all its glory and the captor drew her blade across his neck, spilling the blood into the bowl. Once he had breathed his last she let him drop forward before wiping and sheathing her blade. She knelt on one knee and opened her beak in a silent scream, raising cupped hands in worship and thanking the gods for her vengeance fulfilled and her clans honour restored.

I know its been a few weeks since you posted this, but I just read it and want to say great job. I like the short story format you used, dropping into the middle of the story. It reminds me of the short comics that have been put out about ES2... a snapshot into the world. Thanks for sharing this.

I actually did not find this until now, sad I missed it! This is well written and definitely captures the feel of a Hissho warrior in my opinion, well done! Have some points!

Cheers for the comments all, much appreciated!