The Executioner’s Right
The Executioner’s Song Book 1
D.K. Holmberg
Copyright © 2021 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover art by Felix Ortiz.
Design by Shawn King, STKKreations.com
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Series by D.K. Holmberg
Chapter One
The house reeked of money. It was more than just the ornate sculptures that littered the entryway of the home, reflecting off the gleaming marble, and set into the alcoves. There was something about the air itself that stunk, a musty odor of age. Finn grinned to himself.
“Stop smirking and get to work,” Oscar said.
“You realize that we could take pretty much anything here and sell it for a profit,” Finn said, stopping before a small sculpture set into one of the alcoves on the wall. It looked to be modeled after one of the gods, though not one that he celebrated. Maybe Fell, as he appreciated wealth. “I should just grab—”
“You don’t grab anything. That’s not the job. The Client only wanted a specific item. Now get looking.”
Finn looked at the old thief and ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Is this what it was like when you did jobs with my father?”
“When I did a job with your father, he didn’t talk so much,” Oscar said.
Oscar darted inside the room. Finn wasn’t going to be much help here. He didn’t even know the target. Oscar had agreed for him to come along on the job, mostly so that he had some experience. Oscar had always been the one advocating for Finn to progress with the crew.
Through the closed door, Finn could make out the din of the Gallows Festival. They were far enough off the procession that they didn’t have to fear the Blood Court would make an appearance, but near enough that they had to dress in their finery, rather than the typical thieves’ darks.
“Is this what all rich people’s homes look like?” he muttered, shifting his attention back to the inside, shaking his head. “Can you imagine what it must be like having this kind of money?”
Oscar worked along the shelves, going quickly. The man known as the Hand had a practiced approach and had no difficulty searching. “Every day.”
He stood up on his toes, picked a lock for a glass case, then grabbed what looked to be a bowl set apart from everything else on a high shelf, holding it up, and then stuffed it into a pocket.
“Are you kidding me? That’s what we were after?” Finn asked.
“We do the job we were hired to do,” Oscar said.
“I get that, but—”
Two sharp whistles rang out.
Oscar darted to the window, pulling the curtain back. Finn stepped up behind him, looking over his shoulder.
“What do you see?”
“Not a damn thing with you breathing over my shoulder,” Oscar said.
“That was Rock.”
“It was. Now back away.”
Rock was their scout today, keeping watch for anything unusual. Like Archers patrolling along the street that might indicate they’d been spotted.
“What if someone is home?” Finn asked quietly, looking toward the main hall. Shadows seemed to move, though Finn wondered if that was just his imagination.
“You were watching, weren’t you?” Oscar asked, and Finn nodded. “And you said it yourself. No one is going to be here during the festival.”
Another whistle. Two sharp sounds.
Finn hurried out of the room, down the hall, and stopped at the windows alongside the door. He peered out along the street.
They were in one of the nicest parts of the city. Not only were there shops found here that weren’t found in other places in the city—jewelers and seamstresses and artists, among others—but Heshian Palace, the king’s residence when he came to the city and supposed home to the crown jewels, was visible just in the distance.
“See anything?” Oscar asked, standing on the opposite side of the door, looking out of another window.
“No Archers, if that’s what I’m supposed to be looking for,” Finn said. The city guards would be just as busy as anyone on a day like this. “Maybe Rock was just… Damn,” he said. He pointed to the far end of the street.
An Archer dressed in the distinctive maroon and black colors of their office marched along the street. He rested his hand on a short sword strapped to his waist, and the shield on his back gave him an air of authority.
“That’s a palace Archer,” Oscar whispered.
“They shouldn’t be here,” Finn said, recognizing the stripe on the man’s shoulders. A second stripe would indicate command within the palace; a third would mean command of the city. Even a single striped Archer could be deadly.
“It’s because we’re close to the palace,” Oscar said.
“Aren’t they supposed to guard the crown jewels?”
Oscar shot him a look filled with annoyance. “Don’t go getting ideas in your head.”
“What ideas are those?”
He shook his head slightly, turning back to the window. “The same kind of ideas your father liked to go on about.”
Finn laughed. He and his father shared many traits. The same average build, though Finn liked to think he was more muscular than his father ever had been. Definitely more than Oscar. A good height, even if it wasn’t nearly as tall as the Hand.
“I didn’t know that he thought to go after the jewels,” Finn said.
His father and Oscar had pulled jobs for a few years before he’d ended up pinched and imprisoned. Oscar never liked to talk about what kind of jobs they had taken and certainly didn’t like to talk about what had happened to his father. No thief wanted to contemplate the possible consequences of the job.
“Not like that. Just looking for the big score. Never content with what was dealt before them.”
“Aren’t you the Hand? Shouldn’t you be the one in charge of what’s dealt before you?”
Oscar waited until the Archers slipped along the road, disappearing. “You’ve got to be content with what you have, Finn. Otherwise you’re always going to be looking for a more dangerous job.”
A shuffling sound behind him caught Finn’s attention.
He spun, looking into the darkened house, frowning.
“Are you sure this place was empty?” Finn asked.
“You watched it the same as me. We saw th
em head out to the festival.”
Finn had, and he and Rock scouted for the better part of two days, a long time for a job as simple as taking a single bowl. He thought they had seen everybody from the household leaving, everyone dressed as formally as possible for the festival.
The shuffling sound came again.
He swung back around, looking toward the window. The palace Archer lingered out in the street, not moving away.
“We can’t go that way,” Finn said.
“Then we take the back way,” Oscar said, motioning for him.
They hurried along the hall, and as they passed through it, Finn grabbed a small, silver statue and stuffed it into his pocket. Near the back of the house, Oscar paused, raising his hand, and tipped his head to the side.
If there was somebody in the house, they’d been too loud.
“Through here,” Oscar whispered.
They ducked through a doorway into an enormous kitchen. It looked like it could serve an entire tavern, and yet it was empty. The smell of the recent breakfast lingered, that of sausage and eggs and fresh breads. It was enough to make Finn’s mouth water, and his stomach rumbled.
“If we get trapped here…”
“We’re not going to end up trapped here.” Oscar reached a door at the back of the kitchen. He paused, pulling it open just a crack, and then leaned out. “Come on.”
They stepped out into an alley. Even the alley in this part of the city spoke of wealth. It shouldn’t be so clean. It needed to stink like a proper alley did. Oscar motioned for them to head to the right, away from the streets that Rock guarded and where the Archer patrolled.
“I know a shortcut through the alleys,” Finn suggested.
“No shortcuts,” he said. “We finished the job. Now we have to regroup. You know the time we’re meeting.” He waited for Finn to nod. “All you’ve got to do is…”
They had reached the end of the alley, and Oscar blocked Finn from going any further.
Another Archer.
“They shouldn’t be patrolling here so heavily,” he muttered.
“Maybe the merchants pay them?”
Oscar shook his head softly. “I don’t know. Something’s not right.” He looked over his shoulder. “Take the alley to the end, and if it’s open, get moving.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to try something different.”
“I’m not going to leave you to get pinched here, Oscar.”
Oscar frowned at him. “Whoever said I was going to get pinched? This isn’t like what happened to your father, Finn.”
Oscar gave him a shove, and Finn went stumbling down the alley. When he was about halfway down the alley, he looked back to see Oscar bending down, seemingly fidgeting with his boots.
A shadow moved along the street. One of the Archers.
Oscar continued working on his boots.
Finn hurried along the alley, passing the doorway to the home they had come through, and he hesitated for a moment. If he darted through there, he could end up back on the other side…
The door started to come open.
Finn raced down the alley.
When he reached the other end of the alley, he paused, pressing his back up against the wall. Maybe he’d been wrong about dressing up for this job. It might’ve been easier to be in his darks. At least then he could sneak through the alleys like a proper thief.
He didn’t see any movement.
He didn’t see Rock, either.
He was supposed to be standing guard, but maybe he’d gone off when he realized that Finn and Oscar had slipped away. It was harder to keep watch in the middle of the day. Especially for somebody like Rock. With his size, just standing around was noticeable.
Finn didn’t see anything.
He started out of the alley.
Finn hazarded a glance back, looking along the street where they’d been. The cobbled road was clean, and all of the homes along here were well maintained. They were nice. Almost too nice.
He headed away. Now that he was out in the open, he needed to keep moving.
He tried to look casual and look as if he belonged, but he feared his discomfort drew attention.
As he neared the end of the street, a voice shouted after him. “You. Hold!”
He looked back and saw the Archer who had been patrolling the street coming toward him.
Where was Rock? What about Oscar?
He had a few choices here. He could run, which meant the Archer would chase him, or he could wait.
Only he couldn’t.
He’d taken the stupid silver sculpture out of the home. Had he not, then he could have waited. The Archer wouldn’t have had anything on him.
Finn spun and ran.
He darted along the street, reaching another alley, and slipped along it. He had scouted through here with Oscar, and he knew these alleys. If he remembered it right, this alley would veer off soon.
He turned, following the alley.
The sound of boots on stones thundered behind him.
Finn raced forward, taking a hard right as he rounded deeper into the alleyway. The network of alleys wound throughout the city, and regardless of Oscar’s hesitation with using them, they did shave time off travels. Heading in this way, he thought that he could tell where he needed to go and anticipated that there would be another side street, but he didn’t come across it.
The alley ended.
Shit.
He turned back.
Rather than taking a right, what he’d needed was to turn left. Now he remembered.
Would there be time?
The thundering of Archer's boots on the stones didn’t sound quite as loud now, but he didn’t know if he could backtrack and get where he needed to go.
Racing the way he’d come, he caught a shadow of movement from the other alley as he raced through the small intersection, following the narrow path and then out into the street.
He could hear the Archer behind him.
Finn didn’t slow. He might be the newest in the crew, but he was also the fastest. Now was the time to use that to his advantage.
He had to be careful. Now wasn’t the time to head straight back to the Wenderwolf. The tavern had enough attention from city Archers. They didn’t need him to bring the palace Archers into the mix. And it wasn’t even the right time to meet.
Find the festival. Blend in. That would be how he’d keep out of the reach of the Archer.
The sounds in the distance loomed nearer.
Finn could hear the festivities and raced toward them.
When he reached the first of the streets where the Blood Court would parade down, he slowed, winding into the crowd. He risked a look back and saw the Archer still heading in his direction. Each turn he made seemed followed by the Archer.
It was the clothing he wore.
While it might fit in within the city center where they’d intended the job, it didn’t fit quite so much out here near the Teller Gate, where everyone squeezed out to watch the execution. He should have headed toward the palace. At least there he would have been better able to blend in with others.
What he needed was to get farther into the crowd.
Finn passed a cluster of young women, flashing a smile at them. One of them, a curvy redhead, smiled back. He offered a rueful shrug and hurried along the street. When he reached the vendors, he veered in front of them. They bought him a little time. A younger woman at a pastry stand watched him a moment before glancing behind Finn.
He turned to see the Archer still chasing.
Damn it.
Maybe he could hide. All he needed was a way to sneak through here and avoid attention. There had to be someplace where he could blend in. The crowd was thick enough to mask his presence.
Shouts rang out from hawkers selling their wares. The smell of baked breads, sweet treats, even roasted meats all came to him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Archer behind him, weaving through the crowd. They separat
ed around the Archer, giving him space.
“Traitors,” he muttered. This was his section of the city. Shouldn’t they protect me?
He ducked behind one of the carts.
Then he waited. Staying there might be risky, but what he needed was for the Archer to get ahead of him. Let the Archer lose him in the crowd. When he did, Finn could disappear. Then he could head back to the tavern where he hoped Oscar had already returned and figure out what happened to Rock.
The sound of boots along the stones came louder. Finn fixated on that sound, focusing on it over the roar of the crowd, the hawkers calling out their wares, and even that of a steady chanting.
The chanting was new.
The procession of the Blood Court.
If he wanted to lose the Archer, he’d better do it soon.
Or I could wait.
If he waited, the Blood Court would pass by, and he could get caught up in the crowd.
That might be the best option for him.
Finn maneuvered behind the cart. People passed by him, but he bent over, trying to look as if he were fixing his boots. Oscar had one good idea on him. He couldn’t linger there that long or he’d start to draw the wrong sort of attention—that of the hawkers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the Archer moving slowly through the crowd. At least he was shorter. This man seemed to be standing on his toes, bouncing so that he could peer over the crowd.
The chanting got louder.
The crowd around him pressed toward him.
He wasn’t going to be able to stay where he was for much longer.
The crowd didn’t give him a choice. It was either stand or get trampled.
Finn stood.
The Archer was barely a dozen paces in front of him. Close enough that were he to turn, he’d be able to reach Finn quickly. The advantage Finn had was that the Blood Court and with the condemned were making their way along the street, and the crowd pressed forward so they’d be better able to see the procession.
The Executioner's Right (The Executioner's Song Book 1) Page 1