King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One

by B Lynch

  “It’s Lady now,” she gently reminded the guard.

  “All the same, you aren’t allowed past this point,” he said. “Royth sees no visitors without Sir Kells’ supervision.”

  “And I am here to do exactly that.” Caliandra’s heart pounded, as she wondered if her gamble would work. “Please go to him, and check?”

  The second guard looked to the first. He shook his head.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I cannot abandon my post, and -”

  He did not finish his sentence before the stern maid’s dagger dug itself into his neck. The maids struck like angry vipers, quick and fierce - their daggers slashed and bit the guards, and brought hem bloodied to the ground. The walking guards took notice, and charged down the hall.

  The red-haired maid produced a small curved blade from beneath her dress - drawing it from a thin scabbard, strapped to her leg - and launched herself into a frenzy, striking the guards. Caliandra watched her dodge and parry their spears with ease; it was as if they were jabbing at air. One guard made an unfortunate thrust, and extended his spear too far. The maid punished his ignorance; with an overhead strike, she parted the deadly tip from the spear, leaving him with only a long stick. The other guard lunged forward with his spear, and found himself quickly without an arm.

  Caliandra stood awed and mesmerized by the sight of the melee, pressed against the dungeon door – not willing to run. Not wanting to. She was jolted back to her senses by the dark-haired maid’s voice. “Help me,” the dark-haired maid growled at Caliandra, and drew her attention away from the fight.

  “What?” Caliandra said.

  “Here.” The dark-haired maid held out keys to the dungeon door; for a moment, Caliandra hesitated. But only a moment. She took the keys, and began to try them on the door - finally arriving at the right one. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

  “It seems we made the right choice,” the killer said, bemused. Her accent had not changed, unlike the red-haired maid’s; she was Kersikki, then. The red-haired one is most likely Barrish, then, Caliandra thought. I wonder how she came to be what she is.

  “Of course,” Caliandra said, and looked back at the fight, transfixed.

  The red-haired maid continued to fight; the one-armed guard called for help before she struck him down. The other guard had the good sense to produce his sword, and call for help as he fought. Their exchange was fevered, but short-lived; her attacks seemed to come at him from all angles at once.

  He made an admirable attempt to defeat it, until, at last, he made a brutal swipe, thinking to cleave her in twain. But the maid had avoided it - and her feet danced on the walls. She flipped about gracefully, as though she were an acrobat - and it were anything but a deadly battle.

  Each successive attempt the guard made to strike missed; she flipped and tumbled and kicked and jumped until, at last, he saw nothing. Caliandra gasped as cool steel entered his lower back, and exited the front. A moment later, it was gone, as was his life.

  The Princess and the dark-haired maid unlocked the dungeon, and Caliandra entered first. The maid called to her fellow killer. “Come here!” she said.

  The red-haired maid giggled. “Did you see that last one?” she asked. “A lovely dance we had.”

  The dark-haired maid scowled. “We are not here for your amusement,” she said. “Focus, until we are out of the castle.” she said.

  “Of course.” The red-haired maid curtsyed, and gave Caliandra a gleeful smile. “After you, Lady.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kells heard the commotion from upstairs, but stayed hidden in the dungeon – waiting for the Sparrows to come to him. He cringed as he heard the last, unfortunate gurgles of the men he’d worked alongside trusted, for so many years – they could have been saved, had he acted, but he might have died before he’d gotten to the door. He stayed in the shadows. They had died, and he lived. If he died, too, their lives would have been lost in vain. He waited, and he listened, and he stayed tense. The dungeon’s door opened, and slippers took to the stairs, one careful step at a time; Royth’s Sparrows had come calling for his head.

  But Kells did not think of the opportunities he might have if Royth lived; the chance to learn more about the most secret of secret orders, who it was said had a man or woman in every castle in the known world. He’d heard stories, of course, but until now – never met one. As he sat in the dark, about to face Sparrows – the kind of killers his Erimeni brothers and sisters might have become – he could only think of what came next.

  Quick and careful footsteps led them down the stairs, into the dungeon proper. Royth repositioned himself, clever as he was, to make it seem he was still chained. He looked up. “Lady Caliandra,” he said, as he addressed the women on the stairs. Kells’s heart skipped a beat. What is she doing with these hired blades? “How nice of you to visit.”

  “Where is Kells?” she demanded. The Captain of the Guard remained hidden, coiled like a viper in the dark, and watched one of the Sparrows – a red-haired woman – unlock the jail cell, and let herself in. He could hear the other walking around carefully, checking the corners.

  “He ran,” Royth replied, with a mocking, nervous smile. “When he heard death was coming, he ran, like a frightened child. I suppose you don’t become Captain of the Guard by taking risks,” he added. Kells grimaced at the remarks, and watched the red-haired Sparrow walk over to Royth, sword in hand and a murderous gleam in her eye.

  “Did you see us coming, Royth?” she asked, head tilted. “I heard about your gift. I wonder, did you feel my blade in your gut already?”

  “Sir Royth. And yes,” he replied. “But I also saw what Mother Swallow would say when she found out you killed a Shrike.” The red-haired Sparrow stopped, dead in her tracks. Kells was intrigued; if he lived to see the morrow, Royth would have some answering to do.

  “He’s lying,” the other Sparrow said, from the other side of the room. “Kill him.” She’ll be upon me soon, Kells thought. I cannot act until then. I can’t save him.

  “Prove me a liar. See the brand upon my chest. Then check the hidden tell,” Royth said. He was stalling for time, but his words were effective; the red-haired Sparrow held back her blade.

  “What’re you waiting for?” Caliandra yelled. “Stab him already! Get on with it!” The words almost jarred Kells to action; he knew she took the loss of her brother poorly, but hiring Sparrows, and joining them? It was foolish and reckless. Yom, if her mother knew…

  The red-haired Sparrow ignored Caliandra and her dark-haired companion, and checked Royth’s chest. Sure enough, she found the bird-shaped brand. “And the hidden tell,” he said, glancing downward. She reached to his pants, and pulled them outward. The murderous glare turned to one of mild sadness – then of confusion, and recognition. She turned to the stairs, where the dark-haired Sparrow stood.

  “He’s telling the truth,” the red-haired Sparrow said.

  “So?”

  “So we can’t kill a Shrike,” she replied. “Have you ever once heard of a Sparrow killing a Shrike?”

  “We’re saving the Crows a visit,” her friend replied. “Nick his throat and be done with it.”

  “Who’s to see us out of the territory, then?”

  A beat passed. “The Lady will,” she replied. “Now do your job, let her have her blood, and we’ll leave anon.” Kells heard the other’s footsteps coming closer. He would have to act soon. He just hoped that Royth would be able to fend for himself – and as the red-haired Sparrow wound up for a fatal strike, he prayed for his own quickness and strength.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The wait was forever; the attack ended in moments.

  Caliandra looked on with an awful feeling in her stomach. She had wanted Royth dead; but as the Sparrows sprang into action, and Kells leapt from his hiding place, she realized that the melee was more damaging than she thought. Kells had heard her intent; the very man who’d tried to keep her brother alive might lose his own, all be
cause she wanted Royth dead that badly. Is killing Royth worth it, if Kells dies?

  She glanced over at Royth and the red-haired maid, hoping for a small victory there – for the decision to be made for her. But for every quick, skillful attack the maid launched, Royth avoided it; all but one, which sliced his arm. Caliandra had never expected Royth to be so adept at fighting – and when he capitalized on the red-haired Sparrow’s mistake, Caliandra cringed. He dodged a thrust, gripped her sword arm, and kicked her inner leg above the kneecap, with his foot. She howled in pain, and punched Royth in the throat with her free hand, causing him to gasp for breath. Royth mustered the strength to drive a knee into her stomach – and then, strike her face with an elbow.

  Kells had also caught his target off-guard, and scored a blow across her upper torso, tearing her dress. The dark-haired maid had stolen a sword from one of the guards, and used it to complement her dagger with brutish, efficient thrusts and parries. But his swordplay was equally skilled, and he kept her off balance – despite the hit she’d scored on his thigh.

  Moments before, Caliandra had thought she would have her revenge; but nothing had gone remotely as she hoped. She had thought there might be more strategy, more thought – but it was her first true taste of battle, and she had no idea what to expect. The men and women in the dungeon were not chess pieces waiting to be moved, or to react – there was a frenzy and desperation in their actions, as they struggled for life. Fear paralyzed her to inaction.

  Then, she remembered what Eliya and Mae had told her, about her brother fighting with the Erimeni. My brother would not want one sacrificed for the other, she thought. Not after he fought to help keep Kells alive. She looked around for a weapon – any sort of weapon – and eschewed the large hammer, far heavier than she could lift, for a loose link of chain, curled up against the wall. Caliandra saw Royth and the red-haired maid grappling in the cell; Kells, it seemed was more evenly matched. Caliandra’s heart pounded she rushed in.

  Caliandra rushed to the fray, chain in hand, and saw her perfect opportunity – the dark-haired maid had moved to block Kells, leaving her back wide open. Caliandra swung with all her might – and was rewarded with a sickly crack. The dark-haired maid dropped the sword in her hand, and Kells seized the moment to run the woman through with his blade. He withdrew it, and the maid dropped limply to the floor. Caliandra had hardly a second to realize what had happened, and yet, she knew the full of it would come to her later; the maid was indeed dead. And with her, the chance at revenge vanished. Instead, she had saved Kells’ life.

  Kells offered a nod of thanks, and then turned his attentions to the red-haired woman in the cage. She still struggled with Royth on the ground, her leg very much bruised and her face covered with her own running blood. Caliandra’s grip tightened on the chain for a second as she saw the Seer – but then, she dropped it, letting it clatter on the ground. Kells raised his sword at the grapplers, and shouted.

  “Stop!” he yelled. “Let her go, Royth… Her woman is dead, and don’t think I won’t mind running the both of you through.” He aimed the tip of the blade at the tangle of bodies. Royth rolled off her, to the side, and the woman looked up at the sword pointed at her – then, to her left, where the lifeless body of her partner lay. Breathing hard through the blood that flowed from her nose, she held her hands up in open defeat.

  “Shit,” the red-haired maid muttered.

  Caliandra watched as Kells dragged her to the far corner of the dungeon, and chained her to the wall. The whole time, Caliandra’s eyes flecked back to Royth, who she expected to stare hate at her. Instead… she found pity. And that infuriated her.

  “Don’t look at me,” she snapped, as she turned away; she kept her eyes fixed on a far wall.

  “I do not blame you for what you did,” Royth said, his voice calm and even. Caliandra clenched her teeth.

  “I don’t want your sympathy,” Caliandra said, as her voice cracked. “I just want you to die.”

  “Lady,” Kells said, calling to her. “Come here. I need your help.”

  “With what?” Caliandra asked, bitter.

  “The prisoner needs to be searched,” Kells said. “I can’t do as thorough a job by myself. I need a second pair of hands.”

  Caliandra stood up, and stomped over to where Kells stood, with the maid. “I’ve never –”

  “Today has been a day of many firsts for you,” Kells said. “Help me, and I’ll stay silent on the ones that matter.”

  “Very well,” Caliandra said, still on edge from Royth’s gaze. She wanted no pity from the man who killed her brother. And yet, she had it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  From what little Kells knew of Sparrows, the red-haired one - the one who lived - met all expectations. Once he had her in shackles, he searched her thoroughly, and found two extra weapons hidden on her person… along with three lock picks. One in her hair, one on the bottom of her corset, and one on the inside of her cheek. He wouldn’t have known to look, if Royth hadn’t told him to. As he forced her mouth open, he half expected her to bite down on his fingers - hence, the butt of the dagger he forced between her teeth, so Caliandra could pluck it out with her nimble fingers. The Sparrow would’ve been free in minutes if she’d been allowed to keep that pick; Kells knew both he and Royth would be dead just as quickly.

  Kells glanced back at Caliandra, who was white-knuckled with anxiety. She had calmed down some, but Kells wagered that the fright of combat wasn’t the only thing that set her on edge. He didn’t know how much he could trust her, either; she had saved his life, but in the process, tipped her hand. She was willing to risk her life to see her brother’s death avenged… and Kells only hoped that she never learned how close she was to letting that happen. In the mean-time, he needed her to calm down, which wouldn’t happen if she stayed in the dungeon.

  “Find the nearest guards and let them know we’ve captured her,” Kells said to Caliandra. “Then bring a healer in here, to tend to her wounds and set her leg.” Caliandra nodded, and fled for the stairs; all too eager to be gone.

  “That’s kind of you,” Sage said, with a wry grin. “I’d have let him beat on me a bit more, if I were you.”

  “No need,” Kells mumbled. “The torture’ll come soon enough. Consider it a small token of my delight, at having two members of the Nest in my possession – both fluent in Barrish. No small prize, I assure you.”

  “You had one staring you in the face for twenty years, and you’ve caught the other by luck,” Royth said, droll, from across the room. “I wouldn’t gloat if I were you.” His words burned Kells, and infuriated him; he’d caught both by sheer luck. To an outsider, he’d be a hero; he knew he was only lucky.

  The Sparrow laughed at him, and made the frustration worse. “You won’t get any of our secrets,” she said, testing her chains at Royth. “And he’ll be dead soon enough.”

  “You want to kill a man who can see the future? Good luck,” Royth said.

  “There’s no such thing,” the Sparrow said. “It’s just superstition.”

  “Even locked down here, I knew you were coming. I wouldn’t have needed the Song they sent me,” he said. “I knew every step you’d make.”

  “You’re a damned liar,” the Sparrow replied. “And I’ll be glad to kill a traitor.”

  “I might be,” Royth said, grinning, “And I might not. Maybe your Song said, ‘Kill the Royal Seer, Royth, and anon to the woods. Your Shrike will wait in the Hunter’s Pass.’… But to my recollection, any time a traitor was to be killed, the message was ‘pluck the feathers’, not ‘kill’… isn’t that right, Sparrow?”

  It was the first time that Kells had seen her unnerved. “You’ve been imprisoned for the past week,” she said, clearly rattled. “You wouldn’t have gotten the Song.” That was when Kells saw the color drain from Royth’s eyes, as they turned to a milky white; the same as the Sparrow’s cheeks, as she blanched with surprise.

  “Maybe I didn’t need it,” Royth said.
“And maybe, you were sent to your death.” She said nothing else. Likely, Kells thought, because she knew it was true. Royth, however, was still smug. “We’ve already given Kells too much excitement for one day. If we say any more, he may require a change of undergarments.”

  Kells chortled. “Very unlikely,” Kells replied. He’d already seen a Sparrow frightened, and perhaps there was more to Royth’s ability than previously imagined; the man told him once it was bound to touch. He had said that it could not be triggered without touching others.

  Maybe he lied about that, too.

  But before Kells could think on it, he heard footsteps, and a man’s heavy breathing descending the stairs.

  “Sir Kells! Sir Kells!” he shouted, urgent, between labored breaths.

  “What is it?” Kells, replied.

  “It’s the vault, sir. The guards are dead, and it’s gone.” The words struck him with surprise and fear; something that the Sparrow no doubt enjoyed.

  “What? What’s gone?” Kells scowled, as he approached the guard. “Tell me. What’s gone?”

  “The… the Peacebringer, sir,” the guard hesitated. “It’s been stolen.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Sophine had no sooner checked to see that Caliandra was safe, than she arranged for an urgent meeting of the Council.

  Six Ministers arrived with haste: Fenwyn first, with the official scribe; Marrol and Talwyck, from town, and three more within the hour; two late, with prepared excuses; and one dragged, swaying and drunk, from the nearest pub. That last minister, Harrad, irked Sophine to no end. She knew from his clothes that he was a merchant, and that his knowledge of proper decorum may have been lacking – but all the same, she found it disrespectful. Especially when Kells, who had managed to capture one of the Sparrows and save her daughter, was only freshly bandaged. He sat at her side, and she did her best to ignore the large, darkening pools of red showing through the bandages’ white fabric.