The Assassin

[Chirakis 1]

 

The Assassin

The time was 0300 hours, the exact hour Captain Chirakis began to make her rounds, especially to check on the security officers on night watch.  Her usual expression was . She often stopped to talk a while, but this time her expression was dire as she entered the security complex, nodded to the guards, and moved on toward the area of confinement, in an exceptionally secure area of the security complex.   

 

“Walk with me,” she said as the officer passed.  “Say nothing.”

 

The lieutenant nodded and followed her to the sequestered area of the complex and started through the window.  Kirel could see him.  She could not, nor could she hear him.  The oldest occasionally came to the window and banged on it, screamed, and howled. He was tall, hefty, tattooed from head to toe with a tied up beard.  Eventually the man settled down in exhaustion, spit out a few comments then laughed.  

 

Why was Kirel watching him?  Along his tattooed arms were several symbols and a few words that caught her attention: a certain language seldom heard or seen. Ancient words that pointed in a direction that chilled the bone. 

 

“Zakraldz,” she whispered, then turned to leave.  “An ancient language,” she continued, rounding the corner to the lift.  “It suits them.”

“Ma’am?”

 

“Yes, Lieutenant?”
 

“I have a question, ma’am.”

 

The lift opened, Kirel stepped in, and leaned against the door.  “Ask away.”

 

“Those words, ma’am?  What do they mean?”

 

“You don’t want to know, Lieutenant.  Believe me… you do not want to know.”