I hope all you awesome readers enjoy this chapter. Personally I think this is the best chapter yet. Have a happy reading!

             The moment she grabbed the branch it snapped on her and sent her spiraling down towards the ground. Kylla managed to stick her daggers into the tree’s trunk, which helped in stopping her momentum. Unfortunately her daggers stuck to firmly and the tree and she was forced to let go, less she dislocate her arms.

            She landed flat back on the ground, a spike of pain flooded through her body. Tears emerged into her eyes which she forced back down with unconcealed furry. Not that there was anyone to see her tears, or her furry.

            Kylla took deep breaths the instant her lungs became capable of doing so again. Checking for injuries she swept her body with her hands, stretched her legs and arms to get all the feeling back. After she made a few complicated fighting maneuvers before she was fully satisfied with her capabilities.  

            Having spent an entire day traveling this forest she was nearing the mountains. They continued to grow in size as she resumed her pace. This time she simply ran as fast as her legs would go, trees and animals appearing and instantly disappearing. Kylla pumped her legs to their limit until the mountain range loomed over her and she gasped. Cranking her neck upwards, she tried to see the mountains top but it penetrated the clouds so much that she doubted there was even an end to it.

            A crack sounded from behind her and she whirled around grabbing for her daggers.

            Chaos! They’re still in the tree.

            Kylla ducked into the nearest bush before the creature that made the sound could see her. She squinted in attempt to make out them out and was surprised to see a group of scantily clad men laughing and jostling each other. One even carried a bucket of ale.

            The last one to turn the corner became her prey instantly. With a dagger in his belt and a short sword sheathed by his side, he was the perfect target. She snuck from bush to bush, occasionally increasing the distance to behind a tree when someone blundered drunkenly into the bush she hid.

            As she made her way to the back, another caught her eye. Not because of his weapons but because of how familiar he looked. Kylla remembered him from the caravan. He had been a boy who rarely talked and was seen even less. His name eluded her, but she confessed that it wasn’t really necessary to know.

            Kylla turned her attention back to the target as she got into position. She his directly in front him his path since he was turning a corner. But since her appearance was hidden by the bush and the shadow belonging to the towering tree behind her.

            She waited for him to come within a foot of her before jumping out, swiping his dagger, running him through and pulling him into the bush. It happened as quickly as possible, but she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t been seen. So she swiftly pulled the dagger from his neck, and unsheathed his short sword, then crouching down into a fighting stance she waited.

            When no one shouted or came to look in the bush she, removed the man’s clothes and placed them a top of hers. These ones smelled far worse than the dead boys, stinking of ale and sex. Some of the most pleasurable things for a man, yet two of the best ways to cloud judgment and insight.

            Kylla rapidly ran to catch up with the group, all the while staying hidden. They came into view and she placed herself in the man’s spot without a moment to lose.

            “Grige.” A bearded man shouted, his stench almost overwhelming her. Luckily for her the man had been small for his size and this guy was drunk. “Where the ‘aos ‘ave you been?” He staggered a bit before leaning on another.

            “I been ‘ere the ‘ole time.” Kylla imitated the young boy from the merchant’s voice she had seen earlier. “Just ‘ad to take a piss. Damn whores wouldn’t let me go.” Judging by the clothes ordor of sex, she took a risk and went with it. “Ya know how they are.”

            Four guys shouted in agreement—including the one she had been talking to—and one ore two clapped her back. Their pats on the back were so hard she almost fell forward. With the strength they had, the weapons and they way they talked they could almost be-

            The native tribal community.

            Kylla remembered how Gant had not told her their name and it made her blood boil. But now she had the chance to figure it out, though it would have to be done with an expert touch. It couldn’t be all that hard considering they were drunk and had had probably just came from a neighboring brothel.

            To her amazement, one of the natives even started out the conversation for her. Unintentionally of course, but still very helpful.

            “That bastard Draikovitch.” Grumbled a new member, one she hadn’t seen talk yet. “Who does he think he is ordering us around like his pet sluts?” The man Kylla had spoken with slapped the back of his head and growled.

            “Watch your tongue, Jones. We don’t need you getting us all killed.”

            “Alaric, this man comes here, and the next second the elders begin to kiss his ass.” Jones snarled, his worn features becoming a mask of hate. “If I get the chance I’ll… I’ll…”

            “You’ll what?” Kylla could tell that Alaric was mocking Jones, not so much actually asking the question. “You don’t got the balls to do nothing.” Jones turned a bright shade of purple but remained silent. They walked in silence for the rest of the time, and Kylla scorned herself the entire way for her lack of social abilities. Eventually she calmed down and focused on the fact that she would soon get back to her quiet and deadly ways.

            Kylla was running her index finger along the side of her hidden dagger which had remained in her sleeve. She had momentarily forgotten about it out of urgency, but with it her feeling of nakedness vanished.

            There had been many discussions to overhear along the way to wherever they were heading, but none of them seemed to contain any information. Other than whose part was larger, or who could keep the whores entertained the longest.

            She was almost relieved when they arrived at a pair of gates. The doors had to giant men standing in front of them, each at least three times Kylla in both height and width. Every part of them bulged with muscle and reminded her of the pictures she used to see of The God, back when she was a kid.

            The God was an old god, but some people still believed in him. Draikovitch did, as did all of the Academy students and—by the praying she now heard from the natives—so did this mountain tribe. Kylla also finally discovered their name when the gate guardians said something and all of the men shouted in unison.

            “All hail Draikovitch! All hail Keith! Long live the tribe! Long live Amberrons!”

            After the first chant she caught on and was able to imitate the call until it left her voice hoarse and her throat dry.

            Finally the doors opened and they began to pass through in a run, all waving their spears and swords like animals learning to walk on hind legs.

            What now? She felt like ramming her head against a wall thanks to these imbeciles, but she still followed them. Each man went into a tent in a specific order and she soon heard the sounds of moaning and pleasure.

            When it was her turn to leave the line and enter the tent designated to the man named Grige she blanked. Knowing that if she didn’t enter then they would find her out, Kylla entered the tent.

            On a blanket lay a woman, butt naked staring at her seductively. After Kylla didn’t move the woman began to spread her legs.

            “Won’t you come, Grige?” She moaned loudly and licked her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Then her eyes grew in size, pupils dilating. “You’re not Grige.” Then she seemed to debate whether to just get on with it or scream for help. When she opened her mouth again, Kylla decided she had chosen the latter and dove at her.

            With one hand she covered the mouth, and with the other hand—the one that now held the short sword—Kylla slit her throat open.

            Sending a quick prayer to the ladies and hoped one of them would hear her plea. With any luck they would listen and make it so the men thought the scream was of pleasure. Kylla hesitated before resending her pray, this time directing it at The God. It was better safe than sorry.

            She pushed aside the flap, and walked as if there was nothing for her to hide. Before long Kylla stood in front of another gate, most likely to the inner wall where Draikovitch was. But when she tried to enter, another one of those giant brutes stood in her way.

            “None may pass without permission.” The voice used was ruff and bored, although slightly to loud for it to be a voice someone could communicate properly with.

            “Still trying to enter the wall, huh?” Kylla spotted Jones walking up behind her, both his swords drawn and at the ready. “Well so am I. I know you probably already know this, but we have a rule here at the Amberrons. If you are strong enough, then you may go as you please.” She took this as if she could kill the guard she would be allowed to pass the doors. Lifting her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug she drew her dagger and her short sword. “You’re going to give it a shot?” Jones stared at her in surprise. “Never took you for one to want more than he got.” When she didn’t answer Jones yelled out the dead man’s name. “Grige?”

            “Just watch and keep your balls attached.” Kylla responded, choosing an insult to be the best way. The man grinned in response, sheathing his swords. Jones stepped away and gave them some room, but before she had turned to face the guard, there were already a group of people watching. Hoping they weren’t appearing in these groups because of the dead body Kylla stared at the guard and smirked.

            “Hope you have another job, loudmouth.” Then she ran at him and through the short sword at his face. Kylla had thought about using it to fight, except it simply wasn’t a dagger and couldn’t be used as such. So using it as a divergence was the best way.

            While the large man ducked the oncoming sword, Kylla jumped into the air, and flipped before kicking out at his face. The first kick missed but she followed it up with punching his face using her empty hand. The guard seemed to notice her hand being empty and let it hit him, but on impact Kylla flicked back her wrist and the hidden dagger popped out and embedded itself into his ear. Before he even yelled out his last words Kylla stabbed him seven timed in the cut with her dagger, and once in his throat. Kylla kicked him in his other ear with a round house which sent his corpse flying into the gates.

            There was a long silence while Kylla stood there drenched in the giant’s blood. Everyone appeared too shocked by her victory to utter a sound. She didn’t know whether or not hidden daggers were allowed, nor did she care. When she turned to stare at the audience, even Jones stepped back.

            She was in her territory here. Battle, death, blood, killing, everything she had been taught to do and everything she had mastered how to do.

            Glaring at the other guard she spoke with a voice which seemed to carry much more authority then she had thought it possessed.

            “Open the Abyssed gate before I splatter your blood all over it as well.”