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

by R. L. McIntyre

  With a small sigh, Serena returned to the table and another cup of tea. Swallowing the warm liquid, she turned back to other thoughts.

  “Did he want to be Captain?”

  “I don’t know. I think he convinced himself he wanted it to make his father proud. They’ve never had a good relationship, but his father is the only parent he has left. He wants his approval and the General refuses to give it. He’s only nineteen. Promoted at sixteen when the last Captain died. Mysterious circumstances much like the Queen.”

  “Assassins?” Had others infiltrated before?

  Helen shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t know, and I wouldn’t suggest asking about it either. Those questions wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t want the King to notice you again.”

  Serena nodded. The King’s attention would cause problems.

  The Captain opened the parlor door. “It’s time, Serena. We must go.”

  “So soon?” Helen pouted. “We’re not even done the kettle.”

  Serena hid her smirk, knowing well it was just about empty.

  “I have work to attend to,”

  “But Serena doesn’t.”

  The Captain’s eyes lit with a warning. “Serena has other engagements this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry, Helen, but he’s right. Another time?”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Helen said, rising from her chair. She took Serena’s arm and led her to the front door.

  “Thank you for everything,” Serena said.

  Helen smiled.

  “You are welcome. I look forward to having tea again soon.” Helen grinned, holding Serena’s hands. “I really want us to be friends.

  Serena smiled at that. As an assassin, friends were a luxury never truly experienced. Regardless of a label, Helen’s usefulness outweighed the confusing emotions.

  “Of course,” Serena declared as the Captain opened the door with his goodbyes to the pair. Serena walked outside, as Henry yelled to the Captain.

  “Good luck Wesley!”

  “Good luck?” Serena raised an eyebrow as they walked down the path.

  “You have training later. Be prepared.”

  “I know. I’m ready to teach you a lesson, Captain.” She grinned. The thought of tossing him through air elated her. He snorted.

  “We’ll see who’s teaching who.” He warned. They reached the room, and she smiled at Raft.

  “Raft can take you to the training field when you’re ready. I’ll meet you there in a little while. Wear the guard uniform. I don’t need people realizing you’re a Lady here.”

  Serena hid her smile. Another costume to use to investigate the castle. Adrian was right as he always was. The enemy will always provide the tools to undo them.

  “I’ll be ready and waiting.” Serena winked before entering her apartment. The Captain sighed and spoke to Raft before leaving.

  Serena called out into the room.

  “Mary come help me change before I rip this corset off myself!”

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter Eight

  Serena walked towards the training field the sight of practice dummies and targets nearly made her skip with joy. It almost made her forget about the King’s insignia she wore. The Guard’s uniform allowed for much more mobility than a dress, but its color and mementos to the King annoyed her. Raft strolled next to her with Ike. Both like dogs, constantly on her heels. She focused ahead.

  Looking around, she spotted the Captain. He stood over a barrel, inspecting her weapons. Her protective instinct kicked in as she quickened her steps. He picked up a throwing knife, looking over the small hilt and the blade that dwarfed it. He held it and Serena wanted to laugh. His lack of skill was infantile, washing away her panicked thoughts. He spun towards a target, releasing the blade. It flew, turning unevenly in the air until the hilt thumped into the target. A scowl crossed his face, his eyes on the blade in the dirt.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks.” She smirked. The Captain spun sheepish for a moment, his hands fidgeting in front of him. Her eyes drifted to his hands, which he rushed behind his back.

  “I wasn’t trying.” He steadied himself. “You took longer than I expected.”

  “I could’ve taken much longer, and you’d still be throwing a hilt at your enemies.”

  She looked down at her weapons. Her fingers danced over them, gently grazing their edges. He snorted.

  “I suggest warming up. I won’t take it easy on you.”

  “Likewise,”

  She picked up a blade. The weight settled into the palm of her hand and she spun. Her arm motion pivoted over her elbow as she extended it towards the target. With a gentle whistle, the dagger somersaulted over itself until embedding into the center of the target. A chuckle escaped her throat at the thrill of success.

  She tried again pulling out two blades, one for each hand. Closing her eyes, she let her years of practice aim. She released the pair in unison, hearing the blades thump into the target. Opening her eyes, she grinned at the blades stuck together in a small circle at the center of the target. Almost perfect.

  The Captain stared at her.

  “No doubt why you’re feared for that weapon.”

  “Weapons are extensions of our souls. As assassins, the style of fighting we choose is very much an expression of ourselves.” She walked to the target, retrieving her blades. Pulling them out, she inspected their edges. They remained sharp.

  “What does a throwing dagger tell the world about who you are?”

  She looked over at him, her eyes meeting his. Their gentle grey reminding her of the edge of a blade.

  “What do you think, Captain? What does your sword say about you?”

  She walked back towards him, positioning herself in front of the target again.

  “I think those who choose daggers choose them because they’re preparing for the worst. They want the ability to drive into your defenses. Get close to you. Strike before their enemy can.”

  “Then by your logic, you must be keeping the world at arm’s length. Far enough away that they could never get close. Almost passive to their enemy. Always trying to hold back the current instead of letting it flow through you.”

  Their words hung in the air between. The truth of them creating a heavy silence both mulled over.

  Pushing away his uncanny ability to understand her choice of weapons, she resumed practicing. She held out a dagger to him.

  “Try again. Let me teach you the correct way to throw.”

  He looked at her and then the blade. Slowly his hand reached out and took it. His warm fingers grazing against hers, sending a chill down her spine.

  “I’m a quick study.”

  “Throw again,”

  Turning back to the target he widened his stance, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. With a deep exhale, he released the blade, trying to aim his shot with his entire body. This time the blade missed the target entirely, landing in the dirt to the left of it.

  Serena bit back a laugh. Watching him, it reminded her of a child tripping forwards but catching themselves before falling.

  “Give me another,”

  He held out his hand.

  “Not happening. You need to watch me first.” She grabbed her knife. “You don’t need your whole body. Just understand your pivot point.” She released a blade, it again embedding in the bullseye. He stared at her and then back at the blade.

  “Alright. Give me another.”

  She handed him one. He attempted to focus on a pivot point and threw the blade. She noticed his timing released the knife too late. The blade dipped early, missing the bullseye and missing rotations. It landed hilt first with enough power that it stuck but at the bottom of the circle. The tip of the hilt had a small enough pummel to embed in the target. She couldn’t contain the laugh that escaped her throat. He glared at her.

  “Will you stop laughing and help? I tried the pivot point!”

  “You released late.” She commented befo
re picking up another. “Hold higher on the hilt and use your shoulder as your pivot point. Release when the blade is pointed directly at the target.”

  He grumbled, grabbing another blade and trying again. This time the blade struck the target only a circle from the bullseye.

  “Not bad,”

  “You’ve just had more practice. I’m sure if I did the same, I could be just as good.”

  She moved closer to him, invading his space with a blade in hand. For a moment, her mind drifted to killing him, but the thought drifted away so fast she barely recognized it. Instead, she looked him directly in the eyes, a grin on her lips. She threw the blade over her shoulder into the center of the target.

  “You’re not beating me anytime soon Captain,”

  He stared back into her dark eyes, refusing to flinch at her obvious taunt.

  “I’m sure there are plenty of things I am your better in,” he returned his breath hot on her skin.

  “You can try Captain but underestimate me at your own peril.” She grinned, pulling back from him. He snatched her arm, holding her still as she raised an eyebrow.

  “I’d warn you of the same thing,”

  She snorted and twisted her arm breaking free with ease. She collected her throwing blades, sliding them away. Turning back to the weapons, she chose her sword next, prepared to test him at his weapon of choice.

  “Let’s play at your game now. Show me your skill, Captain.” She said tossing her blade from hand to hand. He grinned back and unsheathed his own, stepping into the open space.

  “I’ll give you the first move,”

  She smirked, her eyes analyzing him. Right-handed. Could mean his left side would be weaker. Decided on testing it, she thrust forwards towards his left, but he blocked the move with ease. She jumped back, memorizing how his muscles reacted. She tested right, watching closely still. Trying a different tactic, she jumped at him. His calm demeanor allowed him to react without giving any openings. Well trained.

  A new idea came to mind. She dove in again. Their blades met in the center, their faces drawing closer as both sides pushed their weight against the other. Serena’s arms shook in warning that her strength would not compare to his. As intended, he smirked seeing his win within grasp. She snuck her foot around his ankle. With a swift pull, she knocked him off balance. Taking advantage of his stumble, she drove in closer. He reacted fast, his blade catching hers in time, but her elbow swung around landing on his jaw. The blow jerked him backward, allowing her to twist back away with a grin on her lips. Blood dripped from his lip where he bit. He wiped it away, his eyes narrowing on her.

  She saw the tension rise in his body, as he decided to stop playing defense. He changed his footing and charged. She braced and dodged his flurry of blows. Her screaming arms once again warned her to find another option. With a quick step to the side, she snuck under the blade drawing closer but faked forwards, allowing her to twist to his back. Her agile speed helped her grab him from behind and hold the sword to his neck before he could react. He let out a huff and dropped his sword. Victory began to rush her, but his hands grabbed her arm, pulling the sword back enough to sway. He snatched her arm and effortlessly threw her over his shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise at the formidable foe he was.

  She smirked rolling up to her feet staying in a crouched position looking at him. He picked up his blade and waved her on. She nearly laughed at the taunt.

  “You already lost,”

  “I’m not done yet,”

  She grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into his face. He yelled out, rushing to wipe the dirt that clouded his sight. While distracted, she charged. She dodged a poorly aimed blow and jumped into the air, kicking him in the chest with her two feet. A ballsy move meant to end things fast. He fell to the ground shocked, nearly dropping his blade. She rolled on top of him, straddling him her blade at his throat. He held his blade behind her at her spine. They sat panting, looking at one another. Their breath intermingling as they stared.

  “You’re not bad.” he panted.

  “I’m a little out of shape,” she said. “I should’ve had you five moves ago.”

  Neither moved for several intense moments. Their breaths releasing in unison.

  “You’re still an assassin. Throwing dirt was a low blow.”

  “Of course, it was. Why fight fair when I can win?”

  “It’s how you win that matters,” he returned, pulling his blade away and pushing her off him.

  “When it’s your survival on the line, you would do whatever it takes, just like any assassin.”

  “I’m nothing like an assassin.” he snapped, getting to his feet.

  “That’s not true. We’re all assassins. It just matters what side of side of the blade you’re on.” she said getting up as well.

  “You’re the murderer, not me!”

  “Of course, I am, but just because you kill in the name of a crown doesn’t negate what you do. It’s still killing someone.”

  “You know nothing about me or the Prince,” he growled in her face. She stood up taller. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back.

  “You didn’t choose your path, and neither did I. Other people decided it without thought of the consequences of it.” She returned, pointing the sword at him.

  “I chose this! I wanted to be Captain and I am.”

  He knocked the blade’s point down.

  “I doubt that.” She returned. “You want me to believe you had a choice? What were you going to do instead? Be a chef? A blacksmith?”

  “This coming from the assassin who was killing as a child!”

  “I never chose that! It was because you and your people came in and destroyed Acreage. You took away my culture and left me abandoned with no one to look after me, so of course, the assassins were happy to have me. I was a child, impressionable, and weak. I didn’t have my parent’s protection because they died trying to stop you!”

  Her body began to shake with anger. Her painful choices made for her survival hung over her head like a noose. Reminding her of the cost each came with.

  “I was a toddler when that all happened. It was war-”

  “It was prejudice. We had magic and your King feared it. So, he tried to rid it from the world. He’s trying to do it again in Samoria, and Acreage is just lost in the middle.”

  The Captain stared at her, saying nothing. He let out a breath and looked at her again.

  “You serve a tyrant, and you want me to believe you chose that. Come on Wesley, neither one of us is stupid.”

  She grabbed her bow and turned back to practicing. She notched an arrow and released it quickly. Harder and harder she released one after another, trying to calm the rage in her blood. Her grouping grew tighter, nicking arrows already shot. Not perfect. She reminded herself. It needs to be perfect. Frustrated she pulled back harder, her bow straining with the tension. She felt the wood threatening to snap and didn’t care. She wanted to break something.

  The Captain’s hands grabbed the bow from her hands. She looked at him as he yanked it from her.

  “You’re going to break it.”

  “So?” she said, annoyed. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of bows I could use.”

  “That isn’t the point.” He held the bow away from her.

  “Give it back,”

  “What do you know about me? What did Helen tell you?”

  “Nothing,”

  “Stop lying. Tell me the truth. What did she tell you?”

  “Why would I tell you the truth? What control do you think you have over me?”

  He snorted.

  “I doubt anyone could have control over you.”

  “Exactly,”

  “But I need to trust that I won’t find a blade in my back.”

  “If I wanted you dead, you would be. So, stop asking.”

  “Why choose us over the Samorians?”

  She looked at him, unsure of the question. Unsure of the answer. Pondering his w
ords, she looked around the castle. Pieces of Acreage lived on. Samorians would never allow that. When they conquered, they believed in burning everything to the ground and rebuilding in their image. It was how they added many islands to their nation. Acreage would not survive.

  “Samorians promise to destroy Acreage. All of us with it. It’s not hard to choose the path that offers the best chance of survival.”

  “You could run.”

  She chuckled at that and shook her head.

  “No. I belong to the assassins. I took an oath to serve them, much like you did to become a guard. There is nothing else.”

  She could only imagine what kind of penalty Gwayne would come up with. No one took lightly to turning your back on your oath or the brotherhood. Death would be an easy consequence.

  “Belong? You’re not an object, Serena. You’re a person.” She stared at him. She couldn’t recall a time anyone told her she had autonomy. It was always sharp reminders of her duties and who she owed her training to. She owed so many people that she never felt like she could make her own choices. She wondered if all of this was his ploy to get her to trust him.

  Another guard dressed in armor walked over. Serena noticed his mix of features. James. The halfbreed.

  “Captain,” he said, his voice deep.

  “James, what is it?”

  “There’s a matter that needs your attention. Can we speak in private?”

  He eyed Serena. His dark eyes were cold and piercing. She watched him closely, not moving a muscle.

  “A moment?”

  “It’ll take some time, Captain.”

  The Captain ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. He turned to Ike and Raft, who trained together several paces away.

  “Raft!” he called. Raft sheathed his sword, walking over. “Pack this up for Serena and Ike escort her back to her room. We’re done for today.”

  “What? We’ve barely broken a sweat!”

  “I don’t trust you with weapons without proper supervision. Do as I ask.” He stated sternly before walking off with James.

  Serena moved to steal a blade, but Ike glared at her as he neared.

  “Don’t,”