The King’s head snapped to his son.
“You should be off fighting and earning your throne. Not playing with such worthless creatures!” His scowl was heavy and the threat in his eyes deadly. “Come here,”
Daryl stood slowly and took methodical steps towards his angry father. Serena felt her pulse quicken as she watched. She couldn’t imagine how he managed to walk towards the angry and violent man with such ease. She was terrified for him. The King could toss him over the banister to the floor. Her eyes fell on the glass, noticing pieces that were big enough to slit a throat. She counted the steps to them. About eleven. She counted how many to the King. Maybe fifteen? She wasn’t sure. Not to mention if she moved to attack the King, she was unsure if the Prince would be safe. He could be directly in harm’s way. She gritted her teeth edging closer to the stairs, keeping the maid behind her. She watched, her body full of tension in anticipation of an attack. Dressed as a guard she blended in better, giving the anonymity she thrived in if she needed to act. The King would not get to hurt Daryl in her presence a second time.
“Yes father,” Daryl said, bowing on his knee before the King. A sharp hand connected with his face as Daryl’s head snapped to the side. Serena jumped, nearly rushing to action. She felt a hand on her shoulder that stopped her. She looked at Ike, who shook his head no. He grabbed the maid, rushing her off.
“Don’t do anything,” he whispered before disappearing.
“You are still such an insolent brat,” the King spat. “I want you out of my castle by the week’s end. Either earn your crown through battle like I did, or I’ll kill you. Don’t forget that.” He kicked Daryl in the chest. Daryl floundered backward at the edge of the steps before catching himself on the banister. The King stormed off without a look back at his son.
Serena rushed up the steps to Daryl. She helped him to his feet and looked at his face. A cut under his eye bled. She suspected from the King’s ring.
“I’m fine,” he said, pulling away.
“Does this mean we’re leaving by the end of the week?”
“We?”
“I joined to kick out the Samorians. If you’re going to be doing that, then I’m coming.”
He gave a small smile.
“I’ll inform the Captain.” He said leading her towards her room.
Serena led Daryl inside and grabbed the towel from her table. She dipped it in the water at her washbasin.
“I’m fine,” he insisted as she moved to clean it.
“Still, for appearances you should make sure it doesn’t scar.”
Daryl watched her work as she gently cleaned the cut. His eyes trailed over her form and she raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Captain’s lucky,”
“Why’s that?”
“To have your affection,”
She laughed.
“Assassins don’t have affection, and the last person I’d care about in that way is the Captain.” He was her enemy. A tool for her mission. She could not care for him. “You’ll have more luck than me in that department.”
“I doubt that,”
She tilted his chin upwards, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Someday you won’t have to hide. You’ll be able to find a man who adores you more than you adore him. Trust in the future you can build.”
Daryl pulled her hand down from his face and gently held it.
“We can build. I’m not the only one looking for redemption.”
She pulled her hand free.
“Redemption? That isn’t something I want. I-”
“You deserve more than just shadows.”
“Why? None of you really know me. None of you know the horrible things I’ve done. The number of people I’ve killed. I’m the Assassin of Acreage. I’m the Death Sparrow. What part of that sounds like someone who deserves or wants redemption?” She shook her head. Being the Death Sparrow was the safest thing for her. The normalcy of life at the castle did not fill her with the same sense of thrill her constant missions did. No. The only thing she liked was the training grounds, Helen’s tea, and maybe the company of some people. Why would she ever want anything else? Why would she need redemption?
“Redemption isn’t for other people, you know. It’s for you. You’ve been an assassin because you had to. I can’t imagine the weight of that life.”
“You can’t,”
“When I’m King. I’d like to give you other options. If you want to remain an assassin, be my Royal Assassin.”
If? Assassin was just a title. She’d always be one, regardless of the profession she chose. It was ingrained in her, but the idea of being more enticed her.
“Maybe someday. When the war ends. We can talk.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He smiled again and left.
Resigned to her feelings, she sat on the couch and looked at the book of legends. She looked over the room, scanning it for danger before allowing her magic forth. Again, the hidden pages of the grimoire offered answers.
She scanned the pages, learning about specific hand gestures that could release it as easily as speaking words aloud. Small things like a snap of a finger could draw forth a flame. The idea felt impossible. She never heard of such things before, but the more she read, the more she felt torn from her. Her understanding of magic was infantile. She knew it came from the Gods but reading the way the Gods crafted them made it all the more inspiring.
The Twilight Princess was revered in this book. What she preferred as offerings were listed on one page. Flowers were one of her favorites, as were images of the moon. It listed certain spices like cinnamon and vanilla. Then there was a list of warnings. Warnings of things dangerous to the Goddess who lived in the forest.
She sighed, looking away. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea. A Goddess living in the forest? Impossible. If she lived there, then why did she not help when the war happened? Why not her brother?
Her head ached with all these thoughts, so she stood walking to the window. She opened it, letting a cool night air blow in. She wished Witch Mothers were still alive. They could have offered the advice she needed. She could try to search the books in the library, but if they had hidden text, she could only get away with using magic for so long. She wondered if the black markets of Klona could offer information. If she could find a witch through them to ask all these questions to. Maybe there was a book from Wixora’s temple that could offer more information. Would that even exist in this library, or was it destroyed with the temples? It felt unlikely such a text would be in the royal library and not in the temples.
Anger rose at the insolence of the Templarians. They desecrated and destroyed land without thinking of the consequences. They did not serve Gods, instead, they served their King. They possessed no magic but angered Acrean Gods. She felt a shiver run up her spine. She was not in the business of battling magic creatures, let alone Gods.
A draft from behind drew her attention. She turned, expecting to see Daryl or another friendly face. Maybe even the Captain visiting. She smiled at the thought, but her face froze the instant her eyes landed on the creature in her room.
A large black figure stood oozing black goo as if its skin was melting off. It stood there silently. Its boney form stretched forwards towards her, outstretching a large, clawed hand. Its eyes were white holes, and it smelled heavily of sulfur. It wrinkled her nose.
She prepared for an attack. Her eyes surveyed the room, noting the doors were wide open, and the guards were laying on the ground. For a naïve moment she thought they were knocked out, but she spotted the blood. They were dead. No doubt about it. How had she heard nothing? Thankfully, Raft and Ike did not return yet. Right? She tried to see details, but her racing heart told her to focus on herself first.
“Give me the book,” the monster spoke.
She looked at the creature and then down at the book in-between them. She couldn’t imagine why a monster such as this would want it, but its oppressive ai
r felt wrong. There was no way she was letting it have the book when it was the only thing giving her answers. So, she decided. She spread her fingers wide, narrowing down her options for a weapon and bolted forwards.
◆◆◆
Chapter Twelve
The creature let out an ear-shattering screech, reaching towards her. She snatched a nearby vase and threw it at the creature. It hissed, hesitating as it dodged the vase. She safely snatched the book, surveying the room for a way out. She settled on a plan.
Deception.
She put the book behind her back, leaning towards the bookshelf. Her fingers grazed across several spines. She felt for one of similar size. Too small. Too thick. Too tall. She continued to watch the creature as she raced across various books. Finally, she felt one that was close enough. She switched the books as she concealed everything behind her.
“Why do you want it?”
She looked over at the window, judging the distance. Maybe ten yards. An easy enough distance to cover. The voice growled at her.
“It doesn’t belong to you.”
For a moment she stared. The creature spoke? Did it speak Acrean?
More questions flooded her mind, but she squashed them focused on the threat.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Her muscles tensed as she prepared to carry out her plan.
“Don’t ask questions. Give it to me.” The creature offered a hand with four long claws.
“No,”
She turned towards the window and tossed the fake book out of it.
“Go get it.”
The creature screamed and bolted after the book. Its long claws reached out towards it. The creature passed Serena, slicing her arm as it threw her back into the wall. She toppled to the ground in a heap, books falling on her from the bookshelf. She shielded her head as she looked for the real book. Spotting its black binding, she snatched it and rushed to her feet. Her back ached, but she ignored it, her training overruling everything else. She spun on her heels, running towards the doors. She spotted a cloak hung by the door and snatched it as she passed.
Where to go? Where to go? She tried to determine her destination as she slid on the cloak. She felt safer hidden under the fabric.
The creature still seemed preoccupied with the book that had fallen out the window. She looked down at the scattered bodies, trying to not make a misstep as she raced away. The bodies were torn apart. Pieces were strewn about. It was something out of a nightmare. As an assassin most deaths were clean, an arrow, a blade, but this wasn’t.
The shriek of the creature pulled her attention. It charged her, realizing she carried the book. The only thing it seemed to care about. She cursed and turned to run, but in a twist of its dark magic, it was in front of her. She realized the futility of trying to outrun it as its clawed hand snatched her throat and pinned her against the wall.
“Who the fuck are you to disobey me?”
She ignored its words, focused on the claws that bit into her throat. Its other hand went for the book. She reacted instinctively. She gouged at its eyes, feeling the cold wetness of the holes. It screamed out again. The hand reaching for the book covered its eyes.
“A poor attempt to hurt me,” It growled, its eyes oozing with black blood. It drew closer and sniffed her. Her heart raced as she worked on an alternative plan.
“Witchling,”
Her heart dropped with that title. It could sense she possessed magic? Of course it could. She told herself. Magic always sensed other magic, but why hadn’t she sensed it? Was she that out of touch with it? She felt she grew in her abilities at least a little.
She refocused as it reached for the book again and she pulled on her last defense. Her magic heated her blood as she prayed to manage something. She pooled her magic to her free hand, attempting one of the motions she read in the book to focus magic. With a quick thrust of her hand forwards she focused the movement. Her magic waited for release as she felt it strengthen her body. Her tongue felt loose, her command resting there as she uttered the first word that came to mind in Magika. Bind.
Her magic bolted into action like a pack of wild dogs released from a cage. The creature shrieked, and it was thrown back off her, its claws scratching her neck as it tried to hold on. It flew back into the room and she watched all the windows and doors of the room slam shut as it raced to its feet. She felt the continuing pull of magic as she felt her strength depleting. It charged her again but couldn’t make it to her before the front doors of her room slammed shut. She felt her magic tapering off as it finished binding the creature to the room.
Without another thought, she turned to run and tripped over the torso of a guard. She nearly yelled out in surprise, but stifled it. Her body ached, and she noticed her muscles were much more fatigued than they should be. The cost of the magic she never learned to control. She snatched the dead guard’s sword and jumped to her feet. She pulled the cloak tighter, sliding the hood up as the creature banged on the door. There was no telling if her magic could hold it, so she ran.
She ran as fast as her legs could take her, not thinking about where her feet were going other than away. The fear was gaining control and there was so much to fear. The creature and the fact she used magic in the castle. Her mind raced as her eyes darted, looking for forms in the dark. She spun a corner, realizing her feet had brought her to the Captain’s room. He couldn’t help with a magical attack. No one could. She felt completely unprepared for any of this, and that terrified her. She was prepared for anything. It was the only way to survive but now. This could damn her survival in an instant.
She turned to find somewhere else to run when the door opened. The Captain stood in the door and stared at her.
“Serena?”
Hearing her name in his comforting voice made her body relax more than it should.
“Wesley,” she said, her voice weak. She teetered on her feet and he bolted to her. His strong and warm arms cradled her as he led her inside.
“What happened?” He kept his voice soft, as if scared to startle her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but all that managed to come out was a strangled sob. When did she even start crying? Her hands shook as they reached towards her cheeks, finding silent tears were falling. She tried to wipe them away as the Captain led her to a chair. The chair felt steady beneath her, reminding her of how unsteady she was. The Captain continued to watch her as her hands continued to shake. He gently pulled down the hood and his breath hitched, looking at the marks on her neck.
“Let me get a doctor,” he said, standing and heading for the door. She snatched his hand her eyes wide. He could not go out there. Out there was a danger she didn’t know how to fight. At least in here, she had magic if she was desperate enough, although the idea of using it again frightened her more.
“I’m not leaving,” he breathed pulling his hand free. He walked to the door and looked for a guard. Serena watched him closely, still on edge as he called out to one. Once done, he returned to her side. She tried to take a breath to help control her emotions, but it felt like a broken dam. Her emotions spilled out and her breath shook.
“Take your time,” He moved his warm hands to unclasp the cloak. He pulled it down off her shoulders so he could see her neck better. He nuzzled the hair out of the way and then walked to his office. She watched him from the seat in the parlor as he opened a draw. He scavenged around, stopping at various points before he returned with a towel and a bottle of alcohol. He kneeled in front of her, preparing to clean her neck when he spotted her arm. His eyes grew wide as he tentatively rose her arm into the light. He could see the three large claw marks. Deep and bleeding heavily. He grabbed some clean bandages and placed them over the wound, holding them tightly to it trying to calm the bleeding. She held steady, not flinching at the touch. The pain didn’t register yet. All of it still felt like a nightmare.
“Serena, what happened?”
She looked at him, trying to think about how
she could explain this. Magic was a taboo topic. How was she to make this seem normal? What lie could she create to hide the truth? She looked him over and noticed his shirt was bulkier than normal. Her free hand reached out and pulled at the collar of his shirt. He flinched as her eyes rested on the bandages on his back. He suffered punishment for the last lie he gave the King.
He watched her carefully, and she could feel those eyes boring into her. Pleading her to explain and let him fix it. Her face betrayed her concern for him, and he gently grabbed her free hand with his.
“I’m alright. I’ve seen a doctor,”
“How many?” She hated the way her voice sounded. So meek and fragile, but it was easier to worry about him than what occurred.
“Enough,”
She looked him in the eyes and could tell that he would say nothing more. He didn’t want her to worry, and it was obvious his concern for her outweighed all else.
“Is that why I haven’t seen you recently?”
“Among other things. The Prince explained his orders. I’ve been trying to prepare things a lot faster than I normally need to.”
She nodded, feeling her lungs fill with air once more. She could think. She could process.
“Something attacked me,” she said, choosing a spot on the wall to look at instead of his face. She could not let his face coax any more feelings out. She needed an unbiased assessment of the events that occurred.
He waited patiently.
“I was reading. I didn’t hear anything. The doors were open. An icy wind was what I noticed first. When I looked, it stood there. I’ve never seen a creature like it before.” She looked down at the book on her lap, pulling her hand free from the Captain’s. She opened the book, scanning pages hoping to find an image of the beast. The Captain watched her search.
“Have you seen things from this book before?”
She ignored him, continuing to look. She closed the book, not finding anything. At least not on the inked pages. The hidden grimoire might hold answers, but fear gripped her at the thought of using magic, let alone in front of him.
The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Page 14