by Arthur Slade
For Tanaya, who loves clever dragons
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Land of Ellos
Book One: Twin Fury
Chapter 1: An Eye for an Eye
Chapter 2: The Fortress
Chapter 3: The Points
Chapter 4: The Egg
Chapter 5: The Curious Echo
Chapter 6: Scales and Bones
Chapter 7: Only One Choice
Chapter 8: The Logical Thing
Chapter 9: Deals to Dream Of
Chapter 10: A Day of Luck
Chapter 11: A Good Name
Chapter 12: Things Come, Things Go
Chapter 13: A Frozen Moment
Chapter 14: An Important Word
Chapter 15: Once More
Chapter 16: An Ounce of Servitude
Chapter 17: Lessons Learned
Chapter 18: A Last Meal
Chapter 19: Advice and a Gift
Chapter 20: Two Warnings
Chapter 21: A Final Order
Chapter 22: Making a Decision
Chapter 23: Under the Starlight
Chapter 24: The Fall
Chapter 25: Never
Chapter 26: My Word
Book Two: Shadow Hunter
Chapter 1: Footfalls in the Shadows
Chapter 2: Pointy Things
Chapter 3: A Shattered Mask
Chapter 4: Words on a Mountain
Chapter 5: A Loyal Creature
Chapter 6: Thespian Way
Chapter 7: Meeting a Traitor
Chapter 8: A Step Behind
Chapter 9: It’s Survival
Chapter 10: That Thing
Chapter 11: Two Drops of Blood
Chapter 12: Hidden in Maps
Chapter 13: Even Further Than Deira
Chapter 14: The Surprise
Chapter 15: An Important Question
Chapter 16: The Cold of Woden
Chapter 17: The Wolf Fighter
Chapter 18: The Spear
Chapter 19: Flight across the Past
Chapter 20: The Oath
Chapter 21: Not Like Cleaning Stables
Chapter 22: What Is Fair?
Chapter 23: Three Hands and a Talon
Book Three: Dark Wings
Chapter 1: Luck of the Draw
Chapter 2: The Bear House
Chapter 3: A Grip of Stone
Chapter 4: Not a Thief
Chapter 5: Payment for Services
Chapter 6: A Dream Returns
Chapter 7: An Awful Joke
Chapter 8: A Stuffed Inn
Chapter 9: A Familiar Face
Chapter 10: Such Good Teeth
Chapter 11: Not a Word
Chapter 12: Clouded Skies
Chapter 13: An Epic Tale
Chapter 14: The Way Down
Chapter 15: No Warning Shouts
Chapter 16: Words by the Hearth
Chapter 17: Forgettable
Chapter 18: A Great Leap
Chapter 19: A Gifted Nose
Chapter 20: A Peek at Power
Chapter 21: The White Bear
Chapter 22: Pickles
Chapter 23: A Good Catch
Chapter 24: The Plan Begins
Chapter 25: Putting an End to It
Chapter 26: The Show
Chapter 27: A Perfect Moment
Chapter 28: Dark Wings
Chapter 29: Not Today
Chapter 30: So Very Sweet
Chapter 31: Pressing the Advantage
Chapter 32: Turn Your Back
Chapter 33: A Tear of Sorrow
Chapter 34: To the Skies
About the Author
Copyright
Book One: Twin Fury
Chapter 1
An Eye for an Eye
I lost my left eye during blades training at assassin school. My twin brother did the deed using a clever feint and a quick crosswise cut that caught me by surprise.
“Well, Carmen, that’ll leave a scar,” Corwin had said. Then he’d laughed that snorty, snotty laugh that had grated on my nerves a thousand times since childhood.
My vision had been too blurry to aim a cutting blow at him, and I wasn’t certain if I even wanted to. He was the only family I had. And despite his laughter, he may not have known how deep the wound was. He often made a silly joke when he’d done something stupid.
But when I stumbled and fell toward the floor, Corwin dropped his blade and caught me. “Aw, sorry, sis,” he said, holding me against his chest. Then the healers rushed in with their bandages and salves and led me to the healing room. Maestru Alesius — my master — soon brought thes bad news: “You will lose that eye, Carmen.”
I was thirteen. I’d been ahead of my brother on the honour roll — the top of the class. I often wondered if a bout of jealousy inspired my blinding. The blades were sharp, but we students weren’t supposed to cut each other — the idea was to keep the mind sharp too. And I’d love to know where he’d learned the move. I’d never seen it before, and I was better with the sword than him. Did he have a secret teacher?
Everything was harder with only one eye — the sword fights, the dagger throws, learning to avoid traps; even the poisons and potions were more difficult to pour.
A half-blind assassin was a joke. I was pretty certain my fellow students had chuckled and celebrated as my position on the honour roll slipped. I had the knowledge and the skill, but the patch over my eye meant I had a weakness, and assassins were trained to exploit weaknesses.
I’d have quit, perhaps to be a scullery maid or to work in the massive wheat fields of the Akkad Empire, if only to get away from the other apprentice assassins who now scorned me. I especially wanted to flee from the kinder ones who looked at me with pity.
But Maestru Alesius had insisted I stay.
“Adversity will toughen your mental bones,” he’d promised. His support and my perseverance had kept me in school. Three years had passed since the incident. I was finally sixteen, in my final week of classes.
Corwin would graduate at the top of the honour roll. He was the best with bladed weapons, the best at hiding in shadows, the best assassin the school had seen in many years. He may even be better than the legendary Banderius. All the kings, queens, and archons would seek to hire Corwin. Maybe even Emperor Rima himself.
I’d be lucky to get hired at all.
Chapter 2
The Fortress
Red Adept Assassin School was a fortress built on the top of Mount Egret, and no one had ever conquered it. It was perfectly positioned on the border of the Akkad Empire and between the Five Realms. The fortress had three hundred and eight secret gates locked by the strongest locks, which were in turn protected by ancient, powerful spells.
My brother and I were babies when we were left in a box in front of one of those gates. We never knew why we were abandoned, but we did know that a gate opened and an assassin took us inside. We were raised in the fortress — to work in the kitchen, to wipe the latrines, to feed the giant black swans. We watched the maestrus and the students, and we practised in the dark. We were invited to attend school when we turned twelve, which put us on the path to becoming assassins.
If everything worked out, we’d graduate, be given our assassin cloaks, and ride a giant black swan to our new careers.
Chapter 3
The Points
My fourteen classmates surrounded me, all seated at a long table set with fifteen pestles, fifteen mortars, fifteen oil burners, and a selection of knives. Piles of dried leaves from several plants, including mint and basil to disguise the smell of any poison, sat in the centre of the table. The final exam for Potions, Poisons, and Alchemy was about to
begin.
We students were a variety of skin shades and body types and came from every realm and corner of the Empire. The more shapes, sizes, and colours the better: it made it easier to complete our mission then melt right back into the crowd.
My brother was at the far end of the table with his two cronies: square-jawed Gregum and willowy and cold-eyed Scyllia. They brought out the worst in Corwin. I knew Gregum was from Trella because he bragged about how he had grown up in a walled mansion outside the city. The rest of us kept quiet about our countries because the less information you give an assassin, the better.
Megan of the red hair and perfect face was directly across the table. She’d given me the nickname Cyclops, so I’d decided to hate her forever. Next to her was Thord, whom I actually liked. He had blond hair and was larger than the other assassins and he’d always spoken kindly to me. To everyone, in fact. Though I could do without the pity I often saw in his eyes.
“Wort’s poison,” Maestru Nestor shouted. I shuddered at his barked command, then smiled. This was an easy one. I gathered the green leaves from a jar, crushed them, and mixed in the oil from black ivy seeds, knowing each exact portion. I was done before everyone else. Maestru Nestor came over to sniff my concoction. He nodded without smiling.
Despite my grinding, slicing, and pestling talents, I was at the bottom of the graduating class. For each assassin skill, a student would receive points, and I lacked marks in the sword fighting, grappling, dagger work, garrotting, and other hand-to-hand combat techniques, all because my missing eye made it so hard to judge distance. But I excelled at alchemy, logic, and finding hidden messages in secret scrolls.
“You look puffed up and proud, Carmen,” Maestru Nestor said. He had cruel lips that were good at shaping cruel words. “Remember, we aren’t training you to be an apothecary who cures boils on goats. I expect absolute perfection.”
I nodded, and he moved on.
My empty eye socket itched behind the black patch. No glass eye for me — I found the patch more intimidating.
After Maestru Nestor had coldly inspected every other student’s work he shouted, “Brillig’s acid.”
I gathered the ingredients from the piles on the table, including vitriol of Damen, petra salt, and alum. Once they were mixed together, it would become an acid that had to be carried carefully in glass vials. It would eat through metal, wood, and flesh.
I ground the salt with the pestle, mixed all the ingredients together, and then risked a glance at my classmates. I had to turn my head quite far to make up for my lack of peripheral vision.
Everyone else was still grinding. Even Corwin was slamming a hard chunk of salt with the pestle. Good! I grabbed a small glass ball in front of me and uncorked it. The ball was designed to be thrown at an enemy so the glass would smash and release the acid. All I had to do was use the funnel to pour the mixture inside. I lined it up and tipped the glass jar.
The smell of acrid smoke alerted me to my mistake. Stupid, stupid eye! My good eye watered up, and I pushed back from the smoke, slid on my bench, and nearly fell over. I dropped the decanter and a hole began burning in the stone floor.
I looked up to see Maestru Nestor looking down. A smile crossed his face. “Not satisfactory, Carmen. Not satisfactory at all. You lose five points. Now clean all this up.”
I did clean it, using soda powder to neutralize the acid. The whole time, I avoided looking at the other graduates.
An hour later, the freshly inked grades were hung up, and I discovered my mistake meant I wouldn’t have enough points to graduate. The other students backed away, happy with their own marks, but I was still staring at the numbers.
“Can I help?” Corwin asked. He put his hand on my shoulder. He was in one of his brotherly moods. “I’d feel horrible if you didn’t get your Red Assassin cloak.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I can’t get those marks back. And we graduate in three days.”
“You could find a swan egg,” he said. “Ask your maestru — he’ll assign you danger points. I looked into it when I thought Scyllia might graduate with higher marks … but I’m uncatchable now.”
“Wild swans are dangerous.”
He waved his hand, dismissing my fears. “You eat danger for breakfast. Remember when we practised flying?” We had jumped from cliffs into deep water and had to learn to manoeuvre ourselves through the air on the way down. It would make us better at landing on parapets. We got points for each jump. “You nearly beat me!”
It turned out I loved flying, if only for a few seconds.
“It might be possible,” I said.
“I see the competitive fire in your eye.” He slapped my back. “Get a giant black swan’s egg and you’ll graduate. I’m sure. Just ask Maestru Alesius for the extra points. He dotes on you.”
I stared at my marks. All that work almost lost. “Yes. I will do it. Thank you,” I said.
“We’re in this together.” He often ignored me, so this sudden softness from him surprised me. “You’re the only family I have.”
Despite everything aggravating about him, he was my brother. And the slash that took my eye was most likely an accident.
Or, if it was intentional, perhaps he regretted it.
He walked away. I’d never seen anyone with such a confident stride. It was as if he’d been born knowing exactly where every step he took in life would land.
“You’ll need feathers if you’re going egg hunting,” a voice said beside me. I shuddered and pivoted.
It was Thord. His smile displayed his perfect white teeth.
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“No!” He blushed. Assassins were trained not to blush unless it was part of a deception. This looked like a real blush. “Your brother talks loud. I heard him say something about a swan egg, and I put the rest together.”
“Then you snuck up on me?”
“I’m sorry that I surprised you.” I couldn’t figure him out. He was talented with weapons and above average with all the other skills, but he just seemed too nice. There was no such thing as a nice assassin! “I have feathers for you.”
“Why would you have feathers?” I asked.
“Because I collected them from the swannery for an art project.”
“Assassins don’t do art.”
He crossed his muscled arms. “What I do in my spare time is my business.”
Who has spare time? I did remember that he was particularly adept at constructing devices and had once made a clockwork owl that impressed the maestrus.
“And,” he continued, “the reason I am offering the feathers is because we’ll be part of a guild once we graduate, and guild members help each other. So, don’t look for some deep motive.”
“I’d have to owe you for this,” I said.
“No strings attached. Only feathers.” He punctuated the last line with a grin.
I couldn’t find a reason to say no. “I will take your feathers,” I said. “And I will owe you nothing.”
“That’s the deal. Wait, I want a story — I want to hear how you got the egg. Because I know you’ll be able to do it.”
“Fine. I’ll take the feathers, and I will owe you a story. It’s a deal.”
We shook hands. His was pleasantly warm.
Chapter 4
The Egg
The black swan nesting ground was a four-hour hardscrabble journey from the fortress. But the giant birds were a great asset to every assassin. The swans would silently carry their masters to the tops of castles or hover near bedroom windows so the assassins could jump in, do their work, and jump out.
Night had fallen by the time I reached the top of the rocky precipice. Exhausted and sweating, I crept through the nesting grounds, the swans’ huge shadows looming all around me. The swans themselves were not like the little swans in lakes. These were at least six to eight feet tall with a wide wingspan, a razor-sharp beak, a sleek, muscular back, and long talons on their webbed feet.
I’d ridden on the backs of several swans as part of our Mastery of the Air class. Each powerful creature could easily carry my weight. What I loved the very most was when I could swoop through the heavens at full speed — a goddess of the skies.
But the swans I was walking through were wild and could strike me dead with a beak or shred me with their talons. I slinked between the massive nests made of branches, mud, and feathers. I’d drenched myself in a potion that made me stink just like a swan. They had sharp eyesight, so I’d used the feathers Thord had given me and pasted them to a rawhide outfit. The beak mask was itchy. As stupid as I looked, it was enough to fool them.
One swan nesting next to the edge squawked loudly, and I froze. But she was only complaining to another mother.
I continued to pick my way over the twigs and branches and swan defecation. Without meaning to, I walked directly into a swan. She batted me with her head, and I skidded across the rocks and bird excrement. The swan hadn’t moved from her nest — she’d shown me who the master was.
Stupid, stupid me.
I corrected myself. No. It was my missing eye that had caused the problem. It made it hard to see things on my left. I’d gotten into the habit of holding my left hand slightly in front of me in case I misjudged a wall or a doorway.
I’d have to be even more careful. I’d read all I could about egg stealing in the library, and there was no easy way to grab an egg and run. That would set off an alarm with all the swans and I’d be surrounded by a gauntlet of razor beaks. I needed luck.
And then I saw, along the edge of the nesting grounds, an egg that had slipped out when a swan had moved in her sleep.
I prayed to the assassin goddess to guide my steps. Bodies from small rodents the swans had dined on crackled beneath my feet. I kept my eye on the egg and when I was close I stopped. The mother swan next to me was a smaller one, and she snored ever so slightly.
I glanced over the edge. A fall from these heights looked to be a bone-breaker, though it had been harder to judge depth since losing my eye. The egg had nearly rolled off the mountainside.
I set a hand on the egg. The egg was warm. The swan inside was alive. Oh, Maestru Alesius would be so pleased. I would pass!