The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Read online

  “I’ll send a pigeon the moment I get in. I’ll let you know everything I find.”

  “Don’t fail, Sparrow. You know the penalty.”

  He grabbed his blade, walking to his office, leaving her with a reminder of the creed. You either succeed or die trying. No one returns a loser.

  She walked back to the supplies she saw at the front of the lair. She pulled out a handful of the rolled-up maps, spreading them out on the nearby table. Scanning them refreshed her memory. A year imprisoned let her lose the details, and to an assassin, details were a matter of life and death. Finished her studying, she rolled the maps back up, satisfied, and shoved them back into the bookcase. She moved towards the wall with smoke bombs, poisons, and other tools displayed in glass cases.

  She eyed each of them, debating what need she could have of them. If she brought poisons, it was likely the Royal Guards would never let her in. She expected to be searched and it would be too much of a threat to risk. If she needed it, she was sure she could always steal ingredients from the kitchen. She grabbed a handful of antidotes to some of the worse and most likely poisons, just in case. Getting these ingredients was hard and she did not expect to find safety at the castle from anything, let alone poison. She beheld the smoke bombs and sighed. That would not be of help. As much as she enjoyed them, there was no room for them at the castle. If she used one, it would be too obvious, it was her. If no assassin before had gotten in, it was unlikely, she could blame it on anyone else. She tapped her throwing knives anxiously and walked to a dresser. She pulled open drawers and found a small, wrapped pouch inside. Opening it, she peered at a knife sharpening kit. This was as revered as a blade. She wasn’t above whittling weapons if needed, and this would help. She tied the pouch to her waist and nodded. This was everything she needed.

  She prepared to go back out into the world.

  “I’ll do well by the creed,” she said to Gwayne as she headed for the stairs. He seemed on edge. Understandable with all the turmoil, but she could tell there was more to it. Assassins were full of secrets and he was no different. There was no way to find out unless she hunted for the truth, and she had other things to do. The life of her old friend wasn’t high on her priority list. Her new mission was.

  “Good luck.”

  She entered the stairwell.

  “May the Gods be with you,” He gently touched his forehead and then outstretched his hand to her. An old Acreage custom.

  “And with you,” she said, mirroring his actions before leaving. She walked up the stairs and back outside. She regretted leaving as soon as she heard everyone speaking Templarian.

  It annoyed her, but she quickly decided on her next step. She left Vilkrim in the stable, turning to the streets. To get into the castle, she needed intel and there was only one person who could tell her what she needed to know.

  She traversed the streets, staying aware of as many people as possible. Ahead, she spotted the well. All kinds of people huddled around it, sharing stories. Off to the side, sitting on a bench by an alley sat the scrawny figure of a man. In his hand sat a mug of what she assumed was beer. His eyes were glossed over, and he seemed too stupid to pay attention. Exactly why he was the best informant.

  She crept closer, sticking to the shadows so he would not notice her. Quieting her steps, she moved behind and placed a blade to his spine. He did not tense, seeming too drunk to know what was happening.

  “I ain’t got money. Spent it all on this here brew,” he slurred.

  “Move, Walter,”

  At the sound of her voice, he went stiff. Slowly his head craned towards her, his eyes wide with fright.

  “You’re dead,”

  “Move!”

  Walter bolted to his feet, placing his mug down as Sparrow led him into the alley. She grabbed him by his collar and threw him against the wall. Her blade sat at the level of his chest. He eyed the blade.

  “How do I get into the castle?”

  “What?”

  She slammed him against the wall, raising the blade higher.

  “I don’t know! I haven’t been paying attention.”

  “Bullshit. You travel to Meta nearly ten times a month to get their mead. How do I get in?”

  “I don’t know!” He raised his arms as she raised the blade to his throat. “The castle walls are impenetrable.”

  “If you have no use to me, you’re better off dead. I don’t need your tongue wagging.”

  “No! I… I heard a rumor. There’s a guard. He’s young and stupid but loved by the Prince. He’s in the Prince’s personal guard.”

  “Get to the point before I do!”

  “He leaves the castle almost every night to visit his father’s stall and see his fiancé.”

  A weak link. If exploited, it got her in the gates. From there it was a matter of hiding in plain sight or... a grin crept across her lips. A plan formed to not just infiltrate but befriend her enemies.

  Sparrow released the man, stepping back from him. She pulled a silver coin from her purse and tossed it to him. Walter caught it staring at the coin.

  “If anyone hears, I’m alive. You won’t be.”

  The man nodded his head vigorously as she returned to the shadows. She left that night, riding Vilkrim hard through the moonlight valleys. She refused to sleep while a tantalizing plan needed to be set in motion. This would be the night she did the impossible.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter Four

  Sparrow arrived at the gates of Meta. Sentinels patrolled the walls as guards stood watch on either side of the gates. The late hour meant few were traveling, and the guards spotted her approach. Her pulse quickened as she neared and they lowered their pikes, blocking her path.

  “Who are you and what is your business?” growled the guard on the right. As planned, she slipped into the role she wanted to play.

  “I don’t think my master will take kindly to you delaying me.”

  The guards stared at her.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I’m sure we all look alike with our demon skin,” She showed them her hand. “but the Lord I serve will not be happy to hear I was detained at the gates. The man is punctual, and I am sure he will have words for your Captain.”

  “Who do you serve?”

  “I am sure you know him well, but I am not allowed to reveal it. He prefers his privacy.”

  The guards murmured amongst themselves, seeming unsure what to do.

  “I’m going to be late. Let me go!”

  The guard on the right moved his pike and Serena urged Vilkrim past. They charged into the town, leaving the guards confused behind her.

  Glass edifices towered over her, reaching towards the heavens. Balconies overstretched above the streets where plants seemed hung, draping the sky with foliage. It felt almost magical. She took in the intricate metal designs that delicately incorporated flowers into the moldings of buildings. The once grey stone of Acreage was painted white or covered in plaster and metal. Metal rivets littered walls reaching up buildings like vines. The architecture impressed her the longer she looked. It felt foreign and exciting at the same time, despite the pit of sadness in her stomach. A reminder that she would never see Meta, as the Acreage capital but only the new Templarian capital, built over the ruins of her people.

  She rode ahead to the castle walls, noticing the lines of vendors by the gates. One of them was the father of the guard she needed. Vilkrim drew too many eyes, so she found him a stall at a nearby stable before returning to the line of merchants. She found a spot against a wall in the shadows of a building, watching and waiting.

  Hours persisted in a boring pattern of closing vendors and stragglers buying supplies. A door in the castle's wall, next to the giant gates opened, and out walked young a guard dressed in his uniform blue. He walked down the path to a vendor only a few spots from the gate. Serena looked back at the door, seeing it was shut. Most likely locked on the other side by a guard.

  The guard hugged a plump
man with a pegged leg. She couldn’t hear what they talked about, but both smiled from ear to ear. It felt exhausting watching the pair talk and goof around while she waited for an opening. Finally, the man closed his stall, and the guard carried a box of remaining goods, following his father.

  Sparrow suddenly enticed by the game of cat and mouse trailed the pair down the streets. She watched, keeping her distance as they entered a small building. A few moments later, the guard left his father, whistling as he walked down the streets. Again, Sparrow followed, hiding in every shadow she could as he neared another house.

  A young woman opened the door dressed in blue and hugged the guard. Her blonde hair strewn around her. The man entered and Sparrow waited some more. She sat on a barrel as time passed agonizingly slow.

  She returned to her plan, knowing she could convince the guard to take her to where she needed to go.

  The guard left, kissing the young woman in the doorway before beginning his trek up the road. Sparrow followed, choosing her next shadow carefully. Decided, she sprang into action. She stumbled into the guard as he rushed to catch her.

  “Thank you, sir,” She grinned as she rose her knife in hand to his throat. The man’s eyes widened, his breath hitched, and his hand rose to his hilt. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Who are you? What do you want? Don’t you know this is treason?”

  “I have a question for you. What would you do if I told you I was the Assassin of Acreage and I knew where both your father and your fiancé lived?”

  The man’s face paled.

  “That’s what I thought. I merely want an audience with the Captain of the Guards, Wesley Trylo.”

  “He doesn’t meet outsiders. He-”

  “You will get me in tonight and I will have my audience.”

  “The guards won’t-”

  “You’re part of the Prince’s Royal Guards. You can get me in easily. Just say the words.” Sparrow paused, letting her words sink in. The man nodded. She moved the blade from his throat to his back. “Double cross me and I’ll sever your spine.”

  “I’m not that stupid.” The guard led her to the gate and knocked.

  “Who is it?” yelled a voice.

  “Raft. I got someone with me. We need to talk to the Captain.”

  The door opened, and a guard looked at Sparrow.

  “The fuck you doing bringing another native in here? Don’t we got enough?”

  “Shut up Mat.” Raft said pushing past.

  Sparrow followed, staying close to Raft. She looked out at the castle grounds. In the distant groove of the castle, a large garden full of roses stood. Such fragile things surviving here. She noticed a group of cottages to the right behind a large stable and training grounds. Returning to the castle itself, it looked Acrean. The intricate nature-inspired elements blended into the martyr and finishing. The large stone walls were of a light grey that rose upwards with towers pointing to the heavens. Grand balconies overstretched into the garden and great blue doors stood at the front as the main entrance. The castle looked exactly as she imagined, except bigger. She noticed the Templarian flag hovering over the main doors from a balcony above. She could imagine the sight of the tyrant standing there and celebrating his victory over Acreage. Her hands fisted at the thought.

  “This way,” Raft said.

  He led her to a small side entrance to the castle and then up a staircase. The servant’s corridor was barely decorated. He pushed open another door to the main hall. Here a rich blue carpet framed the floor as large candelabras hung on the walls. It all looked monotonous, blending in with little discerning details to determine an exact location.

  Raft reached a set of richly stained wooden doors with golden accents. He knocked. No one answered. Raft opened the door and Serena peered inside. A parlor with a set of couches and a table sat before a large fireplace. A balcony overlooked the garden while two doors lined the sidewall.

  “Where is he?”

  “He’ll be here. He might’ve visited the Prince. You can wait in his office.” Raft opened a closed door to a room full of bookcases. Books lined the wall while a large desk took up most of the room. A single window illuminated the space. Sparrow walked past Raft, knife still in hand as she sat in the Captain’s chair.

  “You can’t sit there.”

  She balanced the blade between her fingers. Footsteps neared.

  “Raft, what are you doing here?” called a sultry voice. A young man walked into view, settling his eyes on Sparrow. She eyed the Captain dressed in his blue uniform. Dirty blonde hair, a well-built physique. He looked the part of a perfect Captain except for the silver chain on his neck. A sentimental memento from his dead mother. Like Adrian always said. Everyone was sentimental. It was just a matter of exploiting it.

  “Who are you?” He said, his eyes landing on the blade in her hand.

  “I have a proposition for you, Captain.”

  “Who are you!”

  “Calm yourself, Captain. I will explain it. You are in a precarious position. Samorians landed a few days ago.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She grinned, twirling her blade.

  “I was there. You see, with an impending invasion you need allies. I suspect most of your army is still in the north quelling rebellions. How many men do you have here in Meta? A couple of thousand? Samorians will have more and they bring their magic. You’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

  The Captain grimaced.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To offer my aid. In times as grave as these, it would be smart to start collecting powerful allies.”

  “Why would I need your help?”

  “I’m the Assassin of Acreage.”

  The Captain hissed in a breath and pulled his sword. He pointed the weapon at her evening, his stance for battle.

  “The Death Sparrow is supposed to be dead!”

  “Do I look dead?” She raised her eyebrow.

  “Why offer to help? What do you get out of it?” She watched the Captain’s face grow redder as he seemed to grow angrier. She wondered why. What nerve was she hitting?

  “I get to protect my homeland. Not that there’s much of it left thanks to your kind, but I’d like to preserve it. I don’t want to be enslaved by the Samorians anymore than you, and I don’t trust you to handle this correctly. My name holds weight even in Samoria. Fear is your best ally when you are at a disadvantage.”

  “Raft, get the rest of my guards.”

  Serena sighed.

  “If I wanted to kill people, I’d already have done it. Starting with Raft once he got me here. I could’ve hidden and killed you when you entered. Probably could’ve killed the Royals too, but I haven’t.”

  “Because you have more nefarious motives. I’ve heard of your work, Sparrow. No one survives you.”

  She smiled, almost flattered.

  “Then aren’t you glad you’re not my enemy? Unless you want to be. I am more than happy to spill some late-night blood.”

  He tightened his grip on his blade.

  “How can I convince you I mean you no harm?”

  The Captain remained mute, thinking. Two more guards rushed in, looking at the scene. One was an older man with speckled hair but still as strong as the day he turned twenty. He glared at her while the man next to him surprised her. His features were a mix of Acrean and Templarian. Something she rarely saw.

  The Captain gestured the men to surround her. She rose to her feet, drawing another blade to her hand. Four on one were not the best odds. The small space would prevent some tactics of a sword, but their reach was a problem. There was not enough space to get away from them. The window was too high to jump from. Her heart raced as the possibility she failed grew stronger.

  “I wouldn’t do this.”

  The Captain nodded. Raft swung at her head, the blow almost childish. Headshots were rare and not an opening move in a fight. The older man moved with more experience. He kicked the chair at her. She put out her
foot, stopping the chair and kicking it back into him. The half breed stabbed at her chest. She jumped back, using her blade to knock it aside.

  “Wesley!” started a voice. Sparrow looked up at the Heir Prince standing in the Captain’s parlor.

  Perfect.

  More swords swung at her, but she ducked under them before jumping up on the desk. The Captain charged her, but she timed her hit well. She kicked him in the jaw and jumped past him towards the Prince. The Prince bolted for the door, but Sparrow snatched his robe, yanking him back. He let out a yelp as she pulled him against her. She held him tight, a blade at his throat.

  Panting, she stared at the four men who glared at her. The most menacing looking was the Captain. He stepped forwards.

  “Think this through, Sparrow. You kill him and I promise you a painful demise.”

  “If I wanted him dead, my own life is a fitting tribute to Altara.”

  The hybrid spat at her. An Acrean curse on Gods. She glared at him, her fingers tightening on her blade. A part of her wanted to kill the King’s spawn. End his line, but he could have other children. Many believed he didn’t care about his heir at all. He only existed for formalities since the King expected to rule for many, many years. Killing the Prince would not hurt the King. The King was her real target.

  “Let him go,” the Captain snapped.

  “You wanted an act of faith. Here it is,” She took a deep breath and released the Prince pushing him towards the soldiers. They quickly caught him and pushed him behind them. Serena dropped her weapons, her heart racing louder with every second.

  Serena prayed to Altara not to take her as she unbuckled her belt. It fell to the ground in a loud crash. They stared at her as she kneeled her hands in the air.

  “Please. I am honest in wanting to help stop the Samorians. I didn’t kill your Prince. That has to mean something.”

  The Captain stepped closer, but the Prince grabbed his arm.

  “Who is this? What’s going on?”

  “Daryl, stay back!”

  “What is going on!”