Zeven Chapter 1

Zeven



Chapter 1



Just Getting Started



Zeven crept along the alley, clinging to the shadows that hugged the rough wood buildings and rusty iron gates which lined either side. With smooth fluid movements he stepped, always on the balls of his feet, always on a spot with no debris, where nothing would react with the pressure of his weight and cause a sound. He kept his body low as he moved, his weight always perfectly distributed, always in sync with his feet. He knew his surroundings well, his hearing was tuned to anything out of the ordinary. His eyes were used to the darkness, trained to spot even the slightest hint of motion. He kept his gaze ahead, trusting his senses, knowing he was alone. His concentration solely on his task ahead. A mistake for some perhaps, but Zeven was no novice. His seasoned body knew this routine well and never failed to perform. Like a ghost in darkness, he pressed on down the alley.



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          Timberdale is always quiet this time of night. That is to say if you are a legitimate mill worker or a respected businessman. Those asleep in bed at this late hour tend not to hear the chaos of drunken singing, laughter and often times fighting, coming from within the thick oaken walls of the towns only tavern. The streets do tend to seem quiet late at night though. Then again, if all the back alley wheeling, dealing and backstabbing was conducted in such a manner as to draw attention to itself, those responsible would be depriving themselves of the rewards of their activities, and in short would go against the very idea of what they consider to be clandestine arrangements. So as it stands, the streets seemed quiet. Those responsible apparently know their craft well.



          The Village Watch is the only official law enforcement in town, working in four, two man patrols during the day and two in the evening. The Watchmen (as villagers call them) are really no more than volunteers, receiving minimal training in arms at best. Their procedures are simple, blowing a horn when alarmed to danger or a breech of town law, to which the other patrol or patrols respond. In fairness to its simplicity and obvious flaws, to hear a horn blast in Timberdale is a rare event indeed. In truth The Watch was set in place only to appease the mill workers and their families for fear of strike. The Baron, who owns these lands and the mill Timberdale has developed around, can not be bothered with the cares of commoners. Worse than peasants who bicker and complain endlessly over having some degree of what they call a sense of safety and security however, is an out-of-operation timber mill failing to fill his coin purse. And so the ever vigilant Watchmen carry out their task of keeping the villagers safe with all the discipline and loyalty of a well trained shepherd.



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          Donned in their frayed and filthy forest green tabards depicting a mighty oak as the crest of Timberdale, worn by on duty men of The Watch, Cal and Eric stood at the ready, breath held, eyes intently locked onto their target with nervous anticipation, poised to react. The gravity of the situation all to clear on their unshaven, misshapen faces...



          "Seven!"

          "Yes!"

          They shouted in relief as the dice came to a rest on the hard splintered floor, one showing three dots, the other showing four.



          "Seven's a winner Jake, pay up." Eric said laughing, his yellow stained teeth displayed to Jake in a goofy smile as he counted the silver coins, handing half to Cal.



          "Looks like we ain't going home broke again tonight." Cal said as he excitedly nudged Eric, fumbling to get the newly acquired coins into his pouch without spilling them to the floor.



          "You pricks can't be leaving yet, I got to have me a chance to win my silver back!" Jake protested.



          "Ay, watch your tongue there. We're Watchmen, Don't you be speakin' at us like that or we'll have to run ya in." Both Eric and Jake looked at Cal who after a moment broke into laughter and the other two men joined in, holding their bellies and patting each other on the backs for a joke well played.



          "Aren't you boys suppose to be out on the streets?" Roana teased as she walked by the trio on her way to the stairs, arm in arm with a thick, heavily bearded man.



          "Oh come now Roana, you know you'd rather be having us in here. Our good looks is the only thing keeping the service staff smiling." Eric said with a grin as he winked at a young wench clearing off a table whose top had slipped down over one shoulder.



          "Now now boys, the young one's off limits. If you want to be putting your eyes on anyone in that way, keep ‘em on me and my ladies." Roana said smiling as she began up the steps, her bearded friend at her side.



          "All right Roana you have our attention, now how ‘bout giving us a little something worth seeing!" Eric shouted, followed by hoots and sounds of encouragement as all three men huddled at the foot of the steps.



          Roana and her companion ascended. It seemed she would leave them empty handed. But Roana couldn't resist, she seductively lifted her skirt up to her waist, showing her curvy pale ass and gave it a sharp smack before letting the skirt fall back into place as they disappeared to the second floor.



          Hootin' an hollerin' ensued from below.



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          Zeven knew his surroundings well and knew his prey even better. Mirko would be with the whore tonight, he's always with the whore when he's in town. That part was easy. Knowing the details of his twisted fetishes and games he liked to have her play well, that took some work. Many a gold coin exchanged hands to gather such information, and never one to fully trust what he learns second hand, Zeven had to confirm some things for himself. Much of what he witnessed he was like to never rid his mind of, unfortunate images burned into his memories. Not to mention time spent with the whore herself, out of necessity to learn her behaviors, her habits. All worth the payout when it's said and done, he told himself.



          She would bring him to the second floor, all the whores performed the business end of their dealings on the second floor. Roana's room was on the eastern side, second window in from the left. She'll light a single candle on the bedside table opposite the window. A rather fortunate detail, not entirely accidental thanks to a few well timed comments of her radiant appearance at that particular angle as she's looking down, the soft light gleaming off her sweat covered body. She would then pull the bed a few inches away from the wall to keep the headboard from banging into it. This was a common courtesy all the girls extended to one another. It seems a girl trying to work in the next room would find it distracting. Who knew? Interesting how it's the little things in this line of work one might find to be curious. Interesting also how some curious little detail could hold the power to make or break an entire plan. Zeven wasn't worried. Zeven never worried. He knew it wouldn't be long before Roana was in action, straddling Mirko, facing away, her back to him. This was how the bearded man liked it, it seemed he had a thing for backs.



          Zeven reminded himself he would later need to force from his memory many of the little things he had learned about Mirko as he came upon the large log wood lodge that occupied the lot next to the tavern. Concealed in shadow he crept up to the rear of the lodge and made his way to the corner nearest the taverns eastern wall. He recalled his earlier inspection of the near tree trunk size log, apparently incorporated into the buildings design both as a support pillar and for aesthetics. It was daytime then and the pillar was warm and dry. The cool night air seemed to have caused the wood to dampen a bit. A technicality Zeven hated to overlook, but not one that would alter the plan or even add to its difficulty. Holding off on berating himself, he turned his concentration on Roana's window and what might be heard from within.



          The windows on the second floor of the Cutters Comfort Tavern were tall and thin, constructed of two separate pains of glass which opened out away from one another, like shutters. When closed they were locked with simple mechanisms from above and below, as well as locking together to each other at the middle. An obstacle Zeven could bypass as easily as he breathes. Tonight, he would not have to. Considering the activities that occur in the rooms behind those windows and thus the appreciation for any breeze one could hope to catch, they are rarely found closed.



          Crouched comfortably at the base of the pillar, eyes and ears honed in on the open window, Zeven waited.



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          Once Roana was through fiddling with the candle Mirko went to her. His large hands pulling her in close, one grabbing at her ass. He pressed his face to hers almost forcefully, kissing her half with dry unwashed lips, half with curly coarse hairs from his beard. Mirko was aggressive, but then Mirko was always aggressive, at first anyway. Roana was used to it, and knew he would relax more as the night went on. But Mirko had been away awhile and pressed on, grabbing a hold of her hair and yanking it back before sinking his teeth into her neck. Roana always did enjoy a bit of biting, but this was more painful than erotic. Roana had encountered all sorts of brutal customers and over the years had discovered ways to deal with each one. She knew what to do.



          Roana's hands moved to unbuckle the belt at Mirko waist, wincing as she worked, his teeth had now moved on to her chest, biting hard into her milky flesh. Her hand slipped into his trousers and began lightly caressing. As moments passed Mirko's aggression eased. His breathing slowed. His biting became little nibbles at her earlobes. His harsh grasp became a soft touch as he cupped her ass in his hands. Roana smiled to herself. She knew her craft well indeed.



          Roana eased herself down and began to slowly rock back and forth as her naked body straddled Mirko's. She was facing away from him, towards the foot of the bed. It was how he liked it and she didn't mind it at all. As used to being with men who were less than pleasing to look at as she was, she was still thankful she didn't have to see Mirko's filthy bearded face and whatever expressions he might be making. Still, she gave credit to him for his size and stamina. He has always been one of the very few who could actually last long enough to allow her to get some enjoyment out of her work. And so Roana closed her eyes and smiled, this time she smiled because of Mirko, or at least because of the pleasurable sensation she got from how he felt inside her. She lowered herself onto him over and over, harder each time.



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          Zeven heard his cue, with a final look around to be certain he was in the clear, he began to climb. Easily scaling the pillar, he found himself at an even level with the second floor. The back end of the lodge did not extend quite as much as the taverns but the pillar was still on a good angle from the window. Another thing he knew he could count on was the simple fact that neither Roana nor Mirko were at all shy about being vocal. Hearing the duet of moans from within, Zeven knew it was time. He reached out to the horizontal crevasse created by the buildings log style construction. With both hand and foot he found a hold and slowly began to shimmy his way across the face of the lodge. The moaning grew louder as he came to a position directly across from Roana's half opened window. Another scan of the area below and neighboring windows told him he was unseen. Zeven looked across to the sill he would catch a hold of when he made the leap. Memories from his youth came to mind as he studied the spot where his hands would take hold. A young lad on a frozen lake gingerly stopping a raw egg with his feet as a man slid one his way, then threw another at him, then another, and another. Zeven would not miss them, would not let them break, would not let them fall. It took some time, of course, before he learned to give with his hands and feet in order to cushion the stress on the egg when it hit. A lesson well learned and one he would put to good use tonight.



          Zeven eyed the sill, all thoughts, all sounds cleared from his mind. His focus, absolute. His body relaxed and coiled. His hands let loose their grip, allowing his body to fall to an almost horizontal position. With expert timing his legs extended, like a spring released. Zeven flew.



          Roughly eighteen feet separated the Cutters Comfort Tavern and the Enderson's log wood lodge. An onlooker from afar might have thought it to be a cat leaping from one building to the next. But Zeven was not seen. His fingers reached out for the sill, touching first and curling to take hold. His toes, within the soft thin leather boots he wore, touched next against the hard oak wall as his knees and hips bent along with his arms, first to absorb the stress of the impact, then to halt his momentum. Gravity continued it's goal to pull him back to the ground, but his grip held fast, his toes digging in, finding traction. The egg catching youth within him smiled at his future self as he clung to the tavern wall. His focus back to his surroundings, he listened. The chorus of moans and groans from within, oddly enough, was music to his ears. Zeven was not heard.



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          Mirko pressed his hips upwards eying the sensuous contours of Roana's shoulders and back, right down to her voluptuous ass which smacked hard down onto his pelvis. His hands were on her hips now, helping to drive them down more forcefully. Lifting one he spanked Roana square on her ass with a sharp smack. Roana moaned in pleasure, tightening her grip in response and changing angles by leaning forward, slamming her hips down even harder to drive Mirko even deeper inside her. Again his hand came down hard on her ass and again she let out an uncontrollable groan of approval.



          "Mmmmm ... YES! Just like that baby."

          "Ooooh, yeah, Mirko knows how you like it."



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          Were he an honest passerby Zeven might have rolled his eyes, but not even the scene before him could sway his focus. Zeven peered over the sill, taking note of his prey's position, his eye line and the distance from the window to the bed. He would have to traverse about eight feet of ground with no obstacles and only a dim flickering shadow for cover. Satisfied with what he saw, Zeven began to move. Slowly he inched his arms over the sill and began to hoist his body up, barely slipping through the triangular space between the sill and the half opened windows. His gaze never leaving his prey's eye line, which has been steadily fixed on Roana's ass and doesn't seem likely to waver anytime soon.



          Bending at the waist Zeven's hands met the floor, slowly crawling out ahead to support his weight as he pulled his right leg up and into the room, followed by his left. Slinking like a spider along the floor near the wall he paused, waiting for an opening.



          Roana pounded her hips down onto Mirko, forcing grunts and groans of agonizing pleasure from his dry cracked lips.



          "My big man likes how that feels, doesn't he?"

          "Ooooh, yea I do babe. I like how this feels too."



          Mirko reached forward, sitting up a bit as his hand went to one of Roana's plump tender breasts. He latched on, squeezing, thumbing her nipple as she bounced in his lap. He leaned in, turning her head to find her lips with his.



          Zeven made his move. Gracefully belly crawling along the floor to the bedside and slipping under. It was a blind move. There was no other way to do it. All he could do was act on the given opportunity and hope for the best. Zeven hated hoping. He didn't believe in it. Yet there he was, flat on his back, still as a corpse, hoping his movement wasn't noticed. The continued rhythmic bouncing of the mattress above him, not to mention the lack of break in the sound of skin smacking against skin and the constant moans and groans and mentioning of who likes what, confirmed they had no idea he was there.



          Zeven positioned himself with his head up against the wall at the head of the bed as he quietly slipped his dagger from its sheath at the small of his back. He took some time to judge the room he had between the wall and the metal barred headboard as well as between himself and the bottom of the mattress. He also studied, with great interest, the thickness of the mattress itself. Satisfied, he slowed his breathing, steadied himself and awaited the moment, allowing it to come to him.



          "Oooooh God! Mmmmmm ..."

          "Mmmm ... yes, I love it baby. That's my big man."



          Mirko let go Roana's breast and slammed his head back down onto the bed. Writhing in pleasure he clamped his hands back onto her hips, this time more in an attempt to keep himself steady, to keep himself in place for her. His face beat red and contorted he tried to control his breathing, to hold out as long as he could for her. His eyes open he saw her there, her soft curvy body covered in sweat, seeming to glow in the candle light. She was riding him so hard now, leaning forward a bit, her back arched, her long wavy hair flowing down over her shoulders. Her hips pounded down so fast, again and again, an amazing pace she seemed to be able to keep up forever. Her head thrown back, eyes closed, breathing fast and heavy, moaning louder and louder. Mirko groaned, clenched his eyes shut and threw his head back as his fingers dug hard into Roana's hips.



          Zeven sprang into action, his left hand darting up through the headboard grasping a handful of hair and yanking it down hard. His right hand thrusting up, driving the dagger through the mattress with incredible force.



          Mirko screamed, then went silent.



          "Ooooh yes, thats my Mirko!" Roana shouted in reply.



          Zeven retracted his dagger hand with a quick crisp tug. The blood smear on the blade showed it struck true, but Zeven already knew, the feel of his blade spearing through the base of a skull and biting hard into soft fleshy brain beneath was one he knew well.



          Roana pumped her hips furiously, sweat dripping off her body, her moans now a series of screams, each building in intensity. More and more she pumped her hips, screaming louder and louder, at last letting out one final call of ecstasy.



          "Aaahhhhhh ... Mmmmmm ... Oh my God ... Wow baby, so good."



          Roana continued to slowly stroke her hips up and down, enjoying the sensation, knowing Mirko likes it too she even gave him a little squeeze just to tease him.



          "Mmmm ... I'm glad you're back in town Mirko."



          Roana smiled as she stroked her hips a little more.



          Zeven sheathed his dagger and carefully began to slip out from under the bed, pausing to peek first, wanting to confirm that Roana was still positioned away from the head of the bed. Hearing her moaning in delight and feeling the mattress still rocking a bit was more than good enough for him. He knew he didn't have much time. She would turn to lay beside Mirko any moment.



          Zeven body crawled back across the floor towards the window. Making sure to remain within the shadows as much as was possible. A peek over his shoulder bolstered his confidence when he saw her with eyes closed. Once to the wall he reposition to move up to the window, again glancing Roana's way. This time he froze.



          Roana softly moaned one final breath of pleasure as she reached down and helped to slide herself off of Mirko. Wide eyed and smiling she brought her leg up and around, turning to kneel beside him.



          Zeven watched, knowing he couldn't make a move with her upright while facing the head of the bed. With that angle, she'd spot him for sure. Again he found himself hoping. He hated hoping. Zeven uttered a curse in his mind as he waited, watching.



          Roana looked down at her bearded man, smiling as she rubbed his belly then curled up next to him, resting her head on the pillow with his.



          Zeven knew he had to act now or he'd have to kill the whore too, and he wasn't being paid for that. With Roana's head low to the bed and looking away, he slid silently up the wall, his hands reaching out the window and up, his body followed as he began to climb. He was careful not to let his feet hit the glass as they hung, before being able to reach a solid foot hold above the window. Zeven gracefully scrambled onto the tavern roof, and disappeared into the night.



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          Roana sighed with a hint of worry as she rested next to Mirko, he'd fallen asleep so fast afterwards. He normally didn't for some time. That or he'd head right out after, claiming he had business to attend to. Just then Roana realized he had yet to pay her. She typically gets payment upfront, but Mirko was so aggressive tonight and being a regular, she let it pass. Roana shifted a bit to get some leverage so as to shake him awake when she felt something warm and wet on her arm. She looked down to see her elbow resting on a red soaked pillow. Confused, she quickly sat up and began to shake Mirko. There was no response. Confused and now scared, she shook him more violently. There was no response. Nearly petrified with fear, she shook him so viciously his head rolled to the side. Roana looked down at a pool of blood and wet matted hair at the back of Mirko's head. Not knowing what to do, Roana screamed.



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          Zeven stood on the street outside the Cutters Comfort Tavern. A sense of dread surrounded the place. People rushed back and forth in panic, not knowing what to do, some not knowing what really happened. Women stood around on the tavern porch weeping, their hands covering their mouths in disbelief, their respective men comforting them with an arm draped across their shoulders. Zeven didn't understand such emotion, it had long since been replaced with a sense of pride in his work and his relentless attention to every detail. He had no need for caring. He had a need only for his craft, which brought him wealth. People began making their way to the tavern from the many homes that lined the street, a look of wonder on some faces, a look of determination on others. Zeven overheard several people asking if they could help in anyway, if there was something they could do. One man passed him asking if he was heading to the tavern, with no response the man continued on. Ah yes, the good citizens of Timberdale rushing to offer their help he thought to himself. But Zeven was no "good citizen". There is no help to be had, for I know my craft well. He was a killer through and through, cold and calculating, a professional, a perfectionist. With a smug grin, he turned and walked away. Others raced past him as the Watchman's horn blew, ringing out loud across the village.



          Zeven chuckled. "Get used to blowing those horns boys. I'm just getting started."