Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 - Ben Agar (novels in english .txt) 📗

cowardice.

Sighing, I turned off the faucet. I tried to ignore the agony of my left hand and my dullened, aching limbs. But I could not ignore that both were of my own volition, of my idiocy.

It was quite depressing, really.

I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, my face foul.

I caught a glimpse of the form standing in my room, and that was all I needed to see. In the blink of an eye, I snatched up a nearby knife, about to let it fly.

But I stopped mid-movement and felt my face flush as I saw that the form was Elandria, who was also aiming an Auto pistol at me.

"Drop it," she said.

I immediately did as told.

"Now kick it over to me."

I looked at her with hooded eyes; I had bare feet damn it! But gingerly, I kicked the knife to her, which bounced and rolled over the carpet.

"Mistress Glaitis wishes to speak to you," she informed in her emotionless voice. Her mask was off so that I could see her just as emotionless, pale, attractive heart-shaped face. The gun still pointed at me.

My embarrassment disappeared as my eyes widened in fear. My palms were suddenly wet with sweat. I had guessed that my teacher would want to talk to me, but I was not at all prepared for it.

"J-just let me get changed," I stammered as I scrambled to gather some clothes from that of the many that lay about and could not help be embarrassed at the messy state of my living quarters.

"You have three minutes," she stated.

"Okay, but, uhm, can I, uhm, have some privacy, please?"

"No."

I sighed, then the sudden and impatient twitch of the Auto pistol made me jump and search all the faster. She had me, hook line and sinker, or for want of better cliché, I was caught out in the cold. Never in my life had I felt so exposed, that was why Elandria was a real assassin, and I was not. Though she lacked my training of deception and espionage, she knew how to catch those at their most vulnerable, and she certainly had succeeded with me.

Though, I could not help but wonder what would happen if I had actually thrown the knife? I may have got her; she had not reacted to me until a full second after I had stopped the throw.

If it were anyone else besides her and Glaitis, I would have let it fly without hesitation. Perhaps that was why Glaitis had sent Elandria; she knew I had a weakness for the fairer sex, a weakness that she could exploit, a weakness I needed to eliminate.

It took me two minutes to hurriedly slip on my clothes from the floor, smelling, day-old tunic. I had tried hard to hide as I put it on and had succeeded with admirable grace.

I nodded to Elandria and walked out the door, but she followed me down the apartment building's corridor.

"Where are you going?" I asked over my shoulder.

"With you."

My jaw set. "To escort me, right?"

'Yeah.'

Barely, I kept the fear from my face; if Glaitis had Elandria guard me, the master assassin was meaning business.

I swallowed, really meaning business.

It took us twenty long minutes to arrive back at Glaitis' base of operations, and all the way, I had Elandria holding her auto pistol in my back. Every single step made me dread more and more whatever Glaitis had in store for me. I struggled to hide the fear even with my back to her. The stress of suspense was almost overwhelming as my heart thudded in my chest. I had never bothered to try garner any information from Elandria, knowing full well it was futile. I doubted that Glaitis would have told her anything, and everything I tried to say to Elandria she answered with mindless monosyllables. For her, it was not entirely out of character, but it was doing nothing to help my nerves.

We rode the elevator up to Glaitis' office. Taryst had given the master assassin the top floor of one of the rogue traders many separate buildings surrounding his main tower. Naturally, she is the leader of a very professional and well-off company of mercenaries; she only got the best for her living quarters.

The elevator arrived, and the doors slid open. Immediately I was prompted out with a shove of Elandria's pistol. My teeth on edge, I hesitantly complied, and we entered into the foyer beyond. It was no more than six metres wide, a corridor. At each side and lining the stark white walls were long, black leather couches, and our boots echoed over the polished back marble tiles. The contrast between hers and Taryst's quarters could not have been much more apparent.

Glaitis never kept any guards, which showed her arrogance in her abilities and arrogance that entirely justified. She has survived for this long, and I have seen her skills first hand, and they are quite breathtaking. I gritted my teeth as Taryst's words echoed through my thoughts. I was not in love with Glaitis! And he was a fool for ever thinking so.

A woman sat at the end of one of the couches, her smooth, long legs crossed together as she reclined back. Her high boned, youthful and attractive heart-shaped face was on the profile as her large eyes studied a data slate intently. Her long, violet coloured hair was pulled back into a ponytail and relief washed over me as I saw who she was.

Castella Lethe didn't look up as Elandria, and I approached her, "tsk, tsk Attelus, what have you done now?" she sighed with a smile as she bounced her crossed leg.

Despite my anxiety, I could not help but grin. I liked Castella; she was always charismatic, always friendly, and she had a fun, dry sense of humour I could appreciate. If any woman I would be accused of being in love with, I rather her than Glaitis. She was also confirmed to be Glaitis' successor if ever the master fell, and I agreed. Castella was an excellent choice; she was extremely extroverted, confident and held almost everyone's respect in the company. Except for Elandria, who seemed to despise Castella for the reason that I could not or cared not enough to comprehend.

"Completed yet another assignment, I see," I said, trying to slow my advance, but Elandria was intent on not letting me.

Castella snorted. "Of course, Attelus, would I be here if I hadn't?"

I shrugged. "Goes, without doubt, Castella. I was actually making sure that you were not some fear-induced mirage."

"Wow, Attelus. If you are that scared, shall I say a little prayer for you?"

I frowned and furrowed my brow. "I was actually hoping for a more proactive form of help."

She shrugged, pouting her full lips. "What could be any more proactive than the divine intervention of the Emperor of Mankind himself? Ohh, wait, you don't believe in that thing, do you? Oh well, never mind, you're screwed then. Bye!"

Before I could make a coherent reply, I got shoved through the glass double doors, and I could not help wonder. Why the hell she was just sitting out there?

 

Chapter 3

 As before, Glaitis sat at her desk. Reclining her long, lithe form back in her leather chair, feet planted on her desk. She looked positively relaxed, but her piercing blue-eyed glare said otherwise, and I had to fight to keep myself from wincing under its intensity.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw her, and my heart sped. She was, she was-.

Then my jaw set. Taryst was right! Glaitis must know; she must've used it to manipulate me! Why had no one in the company ever mention it?

Glaitis would have ordered them not to, of course. My fear replaced by giddying disgust, and I found myself reconsidered my decision on Taryst's proposition.

"Mamzel Glaitis, here he is, as ordered," said Elandria behind me, her smooth, soft voice flowed like silk. But the pistol never relented in sticking in my back.

"I can see that, thank you, Elandria," said Glaitis. "Good work."

I glanced over my shoulder as the pistol finally let off. Glimpsing the young assassin bow slightly- likely she had never noticed Glaitis sarcastic tone and turned to leave.

"Stay, Elandria," ordered Glaitis as she sat forward, leant her shoulder on her desk and cupped her smooth jaw in the palm of her hand. "I have a task for you which I will tell once I deal with him."

"As you order," said Elandria.

Then Glaitis turned her glare on me, and I met it, although it took all my willpower to keep from flinching.

"Why did you do it?" she asked bluntly, and despite myself, I flinched. I had expected her to fly straight into a rage-fuelled lecture, saying things like: 'you have disgraced our company!' Or 'your idiocy could have cost us our reputation!'

I hesitated; no matter how hard I tried, Glaitis always outwitted me; it was infuriating. In all my years under her tutelage, I could never predict what she would say or do.

"She asked you a question, worm! Hurry and answer!" I flinched at the sudden words that erupted behind me, and even Elandria started in surprise.

I clenched my teeth, recognising whom the voice belonged to and turned to see Darrance approaching. He was one of Glaitis most senior employees and a right bastard, the true epitome of arrogance and snide superiority. I knew nothing of where he came from, but I could hazard a guess, and my guess was this: he was some son of some member of the Imperial Hierarchy who had squandered and spoilt Darrance and thus creating this monster. How and why Darrance became an assassin was beyond me; perhaps the governor got sick of his creation and threw him out into the cold.

Despite my dislike for the ponce, I could not deny his skill. Neither Elandria nor I had any idea he was in the room until he chose to reveal himself.

My jaw set as I turned back to Glaitis; this just emphasised how much I had to learn.

"Yes, young Attelus. I did indeed ask you a question," said Glaitis, an evil smirk curling her full lips. "Has a feline stolen your tongue, by chance?"

I could think of a no more fitting cliché at that moment.

"Hey, Darrance," I managed through clenched teeth, but I kept my attention fixated on Glaitis. "I see you have returned from your assignment as well, and so I assume it was a success, then?"

"I am not here to waste time tarrying words with a fool like you!" snarled Darrance. "Mamzel Glaitis asked you a question, and you will answer, or so Emperor help me I will-!"

"Darrance," interrupted Glaitis; her eyes were attached to my own and her voice soft but the warning in it evident, but I could detect slight amusement in the words and her eyes. What did she find so entertaining? My audacity of taunting Darrance, who was three decades my senior and who could potentially beat me in a fight with his eyes closed and one arm tied behind his back? Or perhaps the sheer idiocy. Either way, I was making progress.

The senior assassin said no more.

"Now, child, please would you finally deign to answer my question? Why indeed did you beat up on