Why would a man so close to the King himself not try to kill him? Why did he wait on her move? So many thoughts filled her head, confusing her even more. He was one of the ones who handled Acreage magic. Did that mean he too had magic? She could not understand what to make of his mixed heritage and how that played into his motives that felt so nefarious.
After all her thoughts muddled together, she knew one thing. She could not trust him. He played a game. To find out more, she needed to gain intel on him. Something she neglected while looking into the workings of the castle, the Captain, and the Prince. Now she needed to broaden her range. She looked at his saddle. All he carried was a sword at his hip. No bow or arrows. No dagger in sight. His saddlebags didn’t give away anything. She frowned. Whoever he really was and whatever his real motivation was would need to be discerned carefully.
“My Prince!” yelled a scout. She moved closer to hear. The scout bowed his head as he reached Daryl. His clothes were disheveled, and his horse’s mouth foamed as he panted. She knew he ran a long way to arrive here.
“What is it, soldier?”
“They've taken Bathon.”
The air shifted. The oxygen in Serena’s lungs felt like it was sucked out. Never had she thought the Samorians would manage such a feat. A siege on any walled city was difficult. It could take months to win. They had magic. She reminded herself. No doubt that evened the odds. She recovered from her initial shock, looking off into the distance. She couldn’t see Bathon yet, but it was out there. Waiting, full of Samorians. Was she prepared for a siege? It was far from the skill of an assassin, but not impossible.
Daryl cleared his voice first and smiled at the scout.
“Thank you. Please tend to yourself.” Daryl turned to the Captain who spoke.
“That gives them a stronghold on the coast. It would be much easier for them to land more ships if they continue to hold Bathon. We could be looking at a full invasion with several regiments landing by fall.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
The Captain’s assessment was right. Bathon was too close to the ocean. Maybe five hundred yards and the sea raged next to it. Bathon offered cover and a safe place to stage an army. A very strategic position to hold as the cliffs they initially invaded from were more suited for the stealth of a small army than a full-scale invasion.
“How far is the General?”
“Last I heard he’s still a week from Meta and by the time his regiment is restocked, and, on the move, it could be a month or more. I do not see him rushing to our aid.”
Daryl let out a long sigh.
“So, it’s up to us. We don’t have the men needed for a siege. Even if we tried to starve them out, we don’t have the men to keep them inside or the resources ourselves.”
“Not to mention they probably have hostages. They’ve backed us into an impossible corner. We have to act and stop them before they can get their invasion force here, but we can’t breach those walls. We reinforced them!”
The comedic justice of their actions caused more problems than it helped. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she rushed to muffle her laugh. They underestimated their enemy. This was a perfect invasion plan. One that proved the cunning of the Samorians.
The Captain’s head spun as his light-colored eyes glared at her. Her laugh almost exploded at his anger. These were not simple invaders. These were people making a presumptive strike to protect their homes.
“None of this is a laughing matter!” She pulled her hand away and sat up straight.
“Have you ever seen their land, Captain? They're brilliant engineers building their cities over the blazing sands that move constantly. They tame beasts for a living. They are smarter than us. You have to respect that intelligence.” She pointed out. “Plus, you forget who you have with you. I am just as intelligent and can be just as ruthless.” She grinned, her dark eyes full of danger.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I have a few ideas, but this won’t be a battle won with numbers but by exploiting every shadow in Bathon and ourselves. They won’t leave the city alive.” Her mind buzzed with plans as it slowly focused on one.
“We can discuss after we make camp. We need to look at maps and other factors. It’s too much to do while riding.” Daryl said with an approving nod. She nodded back. It would give her time to finalize her thoughts into a plan. They traveled quickly as the shadows in the distance warned of the battle to come. It invigorated her as the day’s sun waned.
They stopped to make camp a day’s march from Bathon. The Captain revealed their hidden assassin to the troops. It took several minutes of convincing for them to relax. Few knew of her at all since the Captain kept the same couple of guards around her. Even those who saw her at the Court dinner believed she was a Lady. In the end, their trust in the Captain and their Prince calmed them into acceptance. At least for now.
Now able to focus on other things, it was time to put things in motion. She dressed with practiced ease in what became her assassin garb and climbed a tree, watching the progress of the soldiers. Her spot was set up in mere minutes as she required little. Watching her companions go about their business, a cold reminder of her life settled on her spine. Assassins did not play war. Assassins did not play Lady either. In the last several weeks, she played roles that she never thought she would. So many and still nothing fit like being an assassin. A soft throb in her heart asked whether being an assassin was all she was. For so long it was all she had and still, it felt the same, like a dagger. Better it turned outwards than inwards.
She shook her head, dislodging the thoughts. Focus. War was not the place for such feelings. Plan the mission and execute. She reminded herself.
“Assassin,” the Captain called. She perked up, looking down from her vantage point at the Captain. The tone of his voice when he said assassin felt cold and distant. A part of her hurt at the use of her title as an insult, but another part happily accepted it. It felt like a much more normal reaction for an assassin and a guard.
“Let’s go,” he called again as she did not rush to his side. Slowly she began to climb down until she stood on a branch above his head. She crouched on it, looking down at the Captain inspecting his face more closely. His face twisted in annoyance, but in his eyes was fear. They did not have a plan without her. Pride filled her chest as she jumped down, swinging off the branch to ease her descent and landing next to the Captain. She ducked her head, her hood slipping over her before she stood up.
“Show off,”
She smirked and looked over at him as he began to walk. Matching his pace, the pair walked towards the large tent. The Captain entered first, pulling back the flap to the large table covered in maps. The warm smell of coffee filled her nose, and she followed it over to James. For a moment she hesitated, looking at him as he poured a cup. Still, she could not shake the unease she felt around him. Testing him, she snatched the fresh cup in his hand and replaced it with an empty one. He glared at her.
“Serena,”
“Thanks,” she chirped, turning her back to him and ignoring the threat in his voice. Peering over at the maps she took a long sip letting the rich nutty liquid warm her throat. Acrean coffee for sure, probably from the north. Someone had good taste and the good sense to pack such a delicacy. She wondered who.
“What do you think?” Daryl said, drawing her attention back to the maps.
She locked eyes with him and she recognized the hope in them. Focusing her thoughts, she took another sip as she smoothed out the map of Bathon in front of her. She scowled. A new map. Useless as it was made when the Templarians fortified the walls of Bathon. It did not take into consideration the structures of Acreage underneath. It was more of an overview of the city than an accurate map of the buildings and what lay under it.
“Do you have an older map?” She turned to the bag of maps. As she looked, she noticed James on an unrolled bedroll by the Prince. His eyes cold and devious as he cut an apple in hand with his dagger. A veiled
threat in his eyes. She ignored it and rummaged through the bag. He would not attack the Prince. Especially not here. Serena felt paranoid and returned to her task.
“This is what we had.” The Captain said as she found few maps in the bag. An Acrean curse flew off her lips as she placed down the cup of coffee. The fools ignored the past of the land they conquered. That shouldn’t surprise her. Years of training engrained the city of Bathon in her head. All the parts of it, especially those overlooked by Templarians. Spotting a quill, she dipped in ink and turned the map over.
“What-” Daryl started as she flipped the map and began outlining from memory the underbelly of Bathon.
“Before the King conquered, we had Temples to the Gods in these cities. Each temple stood above an underbody of mausoleums, worshiping altars, and secret passages to escape from in case of attack. The disciples of the Gods could get a little too competitive.” She said as she drew. “These passages are still there and will allow us entrance to Bathon.” She traced the passages back to their town hall. She scowled at that. Of course, the Templarians desecrated their temples and built their halls over them.
“Do all cities have them?”
“The nine main cities. I never realized they were relics from the Temples until I started researching in the library at the castle. Much of our culture has been lost to the masses.”
Daryl nodded solemnly. As assassins, they didn’t ask questions and just exploited their options. It was strange to look at this map and feel a deeper connection than just a way to get around unseen. Her culture-filled these halls once. Gods and magic lived inside them. Two hollow pieces of herself she barely knew.
“How many exits are there?” the Captain said, drawing her attention.
“I know of five.”
“How big are these tunnels? How many could we get in?”
“The tunnels are large enough to fit maybe three across, but there are hidden doors and rooms down there. Without a guide, it would be easy to get lost.”
“If you can draw more maps perhaps, we can lead in various groups. Attack unseen at prime locations and take back Bathon. If we could open the gates… victory could be possible.” Daryl announced.
“Maps would not guarantee they could make it through. It’s dark down there and confusing. These maps are based on my memory and are not drawn accurately enough that I feel you could send men to follow them. I can mark the paths with rope. They can follow those.”
“That could work. What are the estimations of how many men they have inside?”
“We don’t really know. Intel is scarce and few will tell us much. The natives aren’t very excited to help us. Even if the Samorians threaten them.” The Captain said. Serena could only imagine what a Templarian soldier would look like to an Acrean farmer. No. They would find no help from the locals. “I can estimate anywhere between a regiment and three.”
“So anywhere between three hundred and nine hundred.”
There was no way, even with the element of surprise, they could stop nine hundred. Their side comprised three hundred men, and that included the fifty cavalrymen. The numbers gave a powerful advantage to the Samorians.
“Maybe we can have the hostages help us.” James offered. “Sure, some will die, but I’m pretty sure they’d be happy to get their revenge on the Samorians.”
“Every sword will help, but it’s still not good odds,” Daryl said.
“There are never good odds.” Serena pointed out. “I can do my best to take out as many as possible, but we will suffer heavy casualties if they have more than a regiment inside. That’s the reality of this plan, but there isn’t another. We need to accept that.” She took another sip of coffee, letting her words settle.
“What about other assassins?” The Captain inserted. She took a deep breath and shrugged.
“I don’t know how many they enlisted. Assassins rarely play at war, but this is personal and Samorian assassins might see the King’s invasion attempt as an insult. If they see it as an insult, they will do everything in their power to kill those responsible for it. It won’t be for money or prestige. It would just simply be to get even.” She hated working with Samorian assassins for that reason. She thought Acrean assassins were bad at working together, but Samorian assassins were worse. They tried to double-cross her several times when Adrian sent her to Samoria for a mission. The entire island felt desolate except for their towering cities. Thinking back on their tenacity, the idea of fighting them irritated her.
“How do we identify them?”
“They’ll be dressed in thin black fabric from head to toe. Only their eyes will be exposed as a scarf and cloak will hide their face. They are masters of poisons, so you don’t want to get cut. It could be as deadly as a blade to the throat.”
“As if this wasn’t already hard enough.” the Captain sighed.
“We should have three or four groups that enter the city. One for the town hall, one to create a ring of safety around the town hall. One to open the gate and one to support that group. I’ll lead the rest of the men through the gate. If we can act fast while they sleep, we can take out many.” Daryl said.
“Burn them too.” James offered. “Burn the buildings where they sleep, and they’ll be too frantic trying to put it out to focus on us.”
“That’s good,” the Captain said. “It’ll help.”
Burn them? Her stomach turned at the idea of even more Acreage culture being destroyed by the Templarians. Not to mention the damage fire could do to their own people. It felt like a drastic measure. It was. She realized. With little resources at war, you took a drastic measure. She steeled her resolve for the chaos to come.
“There’s still one last problem. Samorian magic and their War Cats.” Serena said.
“Let me worry about their magic,” James said. “The cats are just big mindless creatures. Kill them while they’re still caged for the night. It’ll be fine.” He dismissed. She looked at the Captain to insert a better plan than leave it to James, but he didn’t. She wondered once again why James seemed to be left to his own devices when it came to magic.
“It’s settled then.” The Captain said.
“James and I can start organizing the plans and men for tomorrow night. You and Serena should map out these passages. Walk them and make sure they haven’t fallen and can work for this plan.” Daryl said, looking at the Captain.
“There’s a lot to do here.”
“James and I can handle it.” Daryl returned. “Go. In the morning we’ll finish the plans after we all get some rest.” A look passed between the two and the Captain sighed, nodding. He seemed nervous to be alone together. Thinking back, Serena realized they had not been alone together since the night the creature attacked.
“I’ll grab a few things. I’ll be ready in ten.” She said rushing out trying to hide her trepidation. She didn’t want to think about those things. Finding the supply wagon, she gathered as much rope as she could find and stuffed the saddlebags on Vilkrim with them. The Captain strolled over, dressed differently. Her eyes glanced over his simple white shirt that outlined his muscles as his black slacks seemed bare of all the normal trinkets he wore as captain. A dark cloak fanned out over top. Nothing about his dress looked like a Captain. Instead, he looked raw and vulnerable. A mere man. Biting back her thoughts, she noticed his horse he walked over as well. A detail that she lost looking at him.
“Ready?” He mounted.
“Of course,” she said mounting as well. She fixated on the path ahead leading off into the waning light. The lowlight did not stop her as she knew the land well. In the distance, she spotted the walls of Bathon. Her heart raced as she turned towards the east heading towards the wall. Unease settled around her as the Mystic forest laid in the west pulsating with magic. She hoped no more magical creatures made themselves known.
She drifted before stopping at a cluster of boulders. It was mostly out of the line of sight of the wall. She led the horses behind them and dismounted. The Ca
ptain did the same. She pushed aside some vines and moss feeling for the metal handle of the door. A grin crossed her face as her hand firmly gripped the metal pulling it open. It creaked loudly.
The Captain unhooked the bags of rope carrying them over as Serena entered. The damp smell of moss filled her nose as it felt like a hidden cave. She reveled in the darkness of the space before lighting a torch she found on the wall. Her eyes took in the black tunnels on the other side of the room but quickly focused on the space she stood in. An altar room. The near-empty stone chamber had one thing left in it. At the center, a large statue of the Goddess Altara stood. The Goddess of Death and Life stood dressed in a cloak hiding most of her form. Her face was half-covered but her slender neck and chin drew attention to her lips which were curled at the edge almost in a smile. Serena couldn’t tell if it was sinister or comforting. On the Goddess’ waist was a set of throwing knives much like what Serena wore, while in her arms she cradled a baby wrapped in a blanket. She wore a half skirt with tights underneath with bare feet. Her shirt seemed to have a corset in it but was hidden by the folds of the cloak. Serena walked closer to the statue drawn to it. She bowed her head to it in respect as a sense of belonging overcame her when she looked at the statue. The reverence that came with peering on the form of the Goddess the assassins acknowledged sobered her as old prayers rose to her lips.
“Praise be to the Goddess of Death and Life. May you guide my blade as I rid the world of darkness.” She whispered. It felt strange to say those words. It was one of the first things assassins learned to say to Altara, a prayer for success. As a child, she needed to believe in something more and Altara had been it. When she got older, there was less time for Gods but now it felt like a piece she missed. A piece a naïve child thought too little of.
She noticed the Captain bowing his head in respect while he waited. She grabbed the start of the rope and gently tied it to the leg of the statue.
“This way,” she said walking.
The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Page 17