“Which Goddess was that?”
“Altara,” She could sense his confusion. “Goddess of Death and Life. She’s the patron of assassins.”
“Patron? You’re devoted?”
“No, not really. It’s more like a ceremonial thing than an actual religious thing.” She explained as she walked down the small stone halls leading under the city of Bathon. They reached another large room, the subtle smell of decay filling their noses. On either side carved into the stone walls were mausoleums to the dead. Broken bowls, dead flowers, and rotted offerings littered the space. Looking around she saw the loss of her heritage and the desecration of it. Her eyes moistened from the thoughts as her chest constricted. She looked over the Acrean letters trying not to read the names of those buried here. She didn’t want to feel anymore attached than she was.
“Serena?”
“I’m fine,” she said pushing onwards. She led to the first exit. A hidden wall in the cellar of a pub. Most likely in the time of temples, the pub owner was a friend. Now the original owner most likely did not survive the conquering. She grabbed a nail she brought and nailed the rope to the wall. Her anger seeped into her hard hits as the Captain’s eyes carefully watched. Finished she turned back to set the next rope.
“Serena,” the Captain started facing her instead of the way back. Expecting him to move Serena stumbled into him as she tried to stop on the rocky ground. His warm, muscular arms agilely caught her his face apologetic. She jerked away from his arms trying to force her heart back into a normal rhythm from the elevated rate it currently beat.
“What?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask. What happened the night you were captured? I can’t imagine you being caught off guard.”
His words struck her like arrows as her body nearly shook with the tension. He wanted her to talk about this. Here? Now? She hissed in a breath as she pushed past him back into the lead.
“There’s not much to say. I fucked up,” she said surprised the words left her mouth. Why was it so easy to talk to him? What about this situation felt safe and intimate enough to even tolerate this conversation?
“I can gather that but how?” She fisted her hand harder around the torch.
“I let my emotions control me instead of my head. Something we should both be wary of.”
Memories flashed into her consciousness. She could remember that day with ease. It was ingrained in her head. The giddied excitement of the day that ended in despair. That day her love, Sam, would tell Adrian they were getting married. He was determined to convince Adrian to give his blessing as a custom for assassins. Without it, they could continue but risk ex-communication or execution from the guild if Adrian felt betrayed. Together they planned time away from the creed to have a family. That idea was laughable now. She didn’t want children, but she wanted to spend time away from the assassins. She wanted average normalcy without the shadows of their life. A stupid dream for any assassin.
She believed it all like a lovesick puppy. She waited for him when the fire broke out and she rushed back to the guild. The image of the flames consuming her home still filled her with a mixture of anger and agony. Templarian soldiers gloated as they fought the assassins the blaze flushed out. She spotted Adrian fighting a leader in Templarian armor. All she ever saw discerning of the soldier was his sword made of black iron. The blade was impossible as black iron didn’t exist. At least not before that night. Adrian fought the man, but he nurtured heavy wounds. Blood fell from the stubborn man in streams. She ran forwards to help, killing any soldiers in her path towards the pair.
The strangled yelp when the blade slid into Adrian’s chest still haunted her. Blood pooled in his mouth before running down his chin. Defeat sunk into his eyes as his body hit the ground. He had never been a kind man. He was cold and controlling but he was the only father she ever knew. Watching as his life drained from his body erupted uncalculated attacks. She acted on emotion trying to kill the man who killed Adrian and nearly suffered the same fate. If not for the soldier with the black iron blade, she would have. As she laid pinned to the bloodied dirt of her adopted father, he peered down at her.
A cruel laugh filled his chest. Another sound that haunted her still.
“Native scum. Look what they did. They taught a woman to hold a blade.” He laughed before kicking her in the stomach. She coughed out a mouthful of blood feeling the distinct crack of ribs. “Such a pathetic waste of a whore. Send her to the prison camp. We need more workers and since she wants to be treated like a man, let her work for us to death.” He growled his voice deep and terrible. Then with a swift kick of his foot, everything fell black.
“Serena?” the Captain said
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”
“How’s your back?”
He stiffened. “Healed,”
“Good.”
Silence hung again over them as they continued their task. It grew stifling and uncomfortable as they headed down the next tunnel. Serena felt too close to him and she wanted to shove him farther away. It aggravated her as his heat pulled at her resolve and patience. The tunnels grew more complicated forcing the Captain closer so as not to get separated. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she continued forwards. His fiery breath cradled her neck nearly making her scream out in frustration.
They reached another large room, and she pulled away from him as she inspected it. This one looked like a practicing hall for witches. She could feel the residual magic radiating off the walls. Shelves full of old potions, clothes, and tools used to practice decorated the walls. Dust and cobwebs blanketed everything including the torches on the walls. She felt bitter looking at yet another reminder of what she lost.
She heard him open his mouth to say something but then stopped. They started down the next narrow hallway as he continued to flounder a few more times, causing Serena to lose her patience. She turned to him ignoring his nearness.
“What? You were supposed to come so you could see the halls and plan. Instead, you’re acting like you can’t think straight. What is going on with you?”
“What do you think is going on with me assassin?” he said a smirk on his face. She looked up at his face and instantly regretted how it made her heart race. The lowlight bouncing off his face from the torch illuminated the golden elements of his hair. His eyes glowed with the light, but she could clearly see the emotions in them. It was the same emotion she saw before.
“How come you’re so nervous around me assassin? Aren’t you supposed to be impervious to danger?” She stepped back from him, but he matched her steps maintaining the distance between them.
“Wesley we-” she started turning from him. He gently grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“We need to talk about this.” He breathed. “We both know how dangerous it is.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her palm, and she could feel her heart racing again. His thumb felt like it burned through her as her body begged for him to touch other parts of her. She closed her eyes trying to get it under control. She shouldn’t feel this way. Not after she allowed it once before and it destroyed her.
“There’s enough danger in our lives without adding to it.” She said trying to pull her hand free, but he held tighter and pulled her closer. She hadn’t expected it and stumbled into his chest dropping the torch as her hand rested on his muscles. For a moment she lost herself to the feeling. She let her hand gently trace his muscles as he shivered under her touch. He sucked in a breath his warm hands burning on her back. Through the thin layer of fabric, she could feel some of his most prominent scars. She stopped over one of the largest ones and he froze for a moment, before seeming to melt into her hand.
“I got that one for trying to help Daryl. We were kids then. I was twelve, and he was ten. We were playing in the courtyard running around with wooden swords trying to impress those watching. Daryl tripped and fell into a pond. He couldn’t swim. I remember not even thinking about it. I jump
ed in and pulled him to safety. Our fathers watched. It particularly upset my father. He claimed I ruined an opportunity for the Prince to grow stronger. What if he couldn’t figure out how to swim and drowned then he was unfit to even be the Prince. I talked back. I tried to convince him he was wrong.” He said before closing his eyes. “My father did not like the notion that he was wrong about anything.”
She looked up at his face and could see the mixture of pain and sadness. He always tried to do the right thing even if it cost him. How then was he here with her?
“I’m sorry you went through that but that doesn’t change that we’re on opposite sides.” She returned softly. He rose his other hand to her chin and gently tipped it up towards him.
“We’re not. Not really. I want the Prince in control, and I know you do too. Why else would you train with him and teach him? You see it in him too. He could change everything.”
“What I want doesn’t matter. I’m an assassin. My allegiance is to them.”
“Serena my allegiance is to the King, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish for something different. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish for more.” He said sliding his hand to her cheek. She found herself leaning into his touch and closing her eyes. She took a shuddering breath.
“Wesley we shouldn’t,” she said her voice weak. If she was honest, she wanted more too. She wanted Acreage safe and under the control of a King who cared for her people. She looked up at him and was terrified by the thought she might want him too.
“Then push me away Serena. We both know you have the power to.” He said leaning down towards her. She felt her heart race in her chest as she felt the air leaving her lungs. She knew she should, but she didn’t want to. Getting involved with him would likely get her killed and yet she leaned up towards him.
Her lips hovered before his. She wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. In that moment of suspense, she knew she fucked up. Her heart was his.
Fear roared to life in her like a tidal wave and she pulled away. She turned her back on him trying to calm the conflicting emotions. She put a hand over her mouth to force the emotions back. This would get her killed or he would get killed. The thought of him dead because of her felt more painful than any punishment had been. She was an assassin. Her life was shadows and death. Her breaths hitched as she tried to calm them, but her mind continued spinning further and further away. This was a mistake. She couldn’t make a mistake. She’d end up back in a work camp or worse. Gwayne would kill him and her. He’d make sure she got to watch too. Few things were considered such a terrible betrayal of the guild. Falling for the enemy was one of the worst crimes you could commit.
“Serena?” His inflection dropped drawing her attention. There was worry in his voice. She forced her emotions down and picked up the torch. They were here to do a job. She had to focus on that. Her hand shook as she held the torch.
“We can’t do that Wesley.” She said finding her voice. “It’ll destroy us, and I don’t want to destroy you.” She said walking forwards. He stood there for a moment seeming to catch his breath. He slowly followed behind keeping a farther distance. She could feel his sadness and pain. It seemed to vibrate off the walls, and it mirrored her own. She stuffed it all down forcing it into the tight box of her life, where she put all the things forbidden to herself.
They eased through the halls finishing their work in silence. As they returned to the surface, Wesley went to grab Serena’s hand again but stopped. She caught the movement and looked at him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. We should focus on the battle ahead. We can talk more when everything is over.” He said hopefully.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She reproached refusing to give in. She turned her back on him not wanting to see the pain in his face. Moonlight shone outside, and she walked out to bask in it. From now on she would not allow herself to think of her feelings for him. Gwayne would kill them. Best to ignore it and protect them both.
Finished she mounted Vilkrim as the Captain copied her. The pair then rode off back to camp, silence filling the space between them.
◆◆◆
Chapter Fifteen
It felt strange. The silence before a battle. Shadows always held silence, but Serena felt a heavy cloud of dread hang over them like a wet blanket. Anticipation made breathing hard as everyone seemed scared to release a breath. The reality that death was coming pressed on everyone’s minds. She never thought about it much before. She felt like the harbinger of death. Never had she walked amongst those about to die. Assassins weren’t trained to fight in a war. War often had many head-on collisions and assassins preferred stealth, or at least the ability to control the situation. Anything could happen in war.
She took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in her breaths. As she looked around the camp, she couldn’t help the thoughts that rose to her mind. She was walking amongst ghosts. Many would not be alive to see the next sunrise. There was no telling how many would die, but looking at them she knew many were marked for death.
It was horribly sobering. Death for her always resulted from her actions. Now it felt like Goddess Altara hovered over Bathon, waiting to collect the dead. She bit her lip, conflicted. Gods. They abandoned the people of Acreage, but they were a part of her. A part of her culture. She knew Altara better than any of the others, and yet it still felt strange. To pray to anything for help after so long, depending on only herself. Yet in the grand scheme of things, she knew she was only one person. One piece of a much larger puzzle, and for Acreage and the people she cared for to survive, she might just need a little divine intervention.
The group of soldiers prepared to move towards the tunnels. They moved in smaller groups at varying times to the tunnel entrance to stay hidden. So far, they’d gone under the notice of the Samorians in Bathon. She moved with a group of men crouched low as they hurried through the brush. Her mind thought over the plan, trying to ease her nerves. She would lead one group of men towards the center of the city. They would exit in the basement of a pub and move to clear the buildings in a circle around the town hall. The Captain was leading his forces underneath the town hall to take it. If he could not fulfill his goal, Serena could see what was wrong and act. Otherwise, her job was to ensure the two parts of the army did not reconnect. He trusted her judgment. She felt warm at the thought. She refocused. James’ force would climb in by the gates with the job of opening them for Daryl, who would lead the rest of the troops in.
It sounded like a solid plan. It was a solid plan, but it would still be impossibly tricky. So much could go wrong. She took a deep breath and looked around at the soldiers preparing. Raft spotted her and smiled walking over.
“This is all exciting. You know this is the first time I get to fight in a battle.” He whispered excitedly. She looked at him and sighed. He was smiling and almost jumping with excitement.
“War is nothing to be excited about,” she returned, pulling him down by his shirt, so he remained closer to the ground. He pulled away and frowned.
“I know people die, but my dad fought. He said it made him into the man he is today, and I want to be like him. He’s a great man. I wouldn’t mind being like you either. I mean you-”
“Stop,” she said. She looked away from his hopeful eyes. She felt angry at the idea of him turning into her. “You don’t want to be like me. I’m a killer. You’re still just a boy.”
“Don’t say that. I’m old enough to serve. Old enough to get married. You’re only a couple years older.” His face showed it insulted him.
“Just because you’re old enough doesn’t mean you should serve. You shouldn’t have to put your life at risk for this. You have a fiancé waiting for you!” She hoped to get him to understand the gravity of the situation to come.
“I fight for her. For my land. For my Prince. Why else would I fight?” He paused, thinking. “I know carrying a sword is a responsibility. I knew taking my oath to be a guard meant something to other peopl
e, but it means something to me, Serena. I want to be defined for the good I can do in this world, even if all I have to offer is my blade.”
She looked at him and saw his youth. She could see the inexperience in his eyes. Two years separated them, but he seemed so much younger. He was still growing for one. In a year he could tower over her instead of being at eye level. He did not know the hardship he chose for this sense of doing good. It reminded her of herself. Of taking her oath to the assassins. Of promising before Altara and the other assassins of her guild that she would uphold their creed. That she would hold those who did horrible things accountable. That she would help Acreage. She looked into his eyes, full of hope and determination. He wanted to help but didn’t want to see the cost of this path. There were so many other paths she could see and hoped he would choose one of those instead. All she could see for him if he continued was death, and she didn’t want that for him. His greatest opportunity lied in the young woman back in Meta, waiting for him to return.
“You have much more to offer this world than a numb blade for hire. Not every path is paved in blood. Some are paved through kindness and mercy. Things not all of us are guaranteed. Things you possess. Don’t let the illusion of carving your way through life by breaking things stop you from seeing all your options. You’re more than a soldier.” She said with a smile. He smiled back.
“And you’re more than an assassin. You have a choice too.” He responded.
Those words nearly made her choke up with emotions. She never had a choice. Not since she was orphaned and taken in by the assassins. There was never a choice. Survival or death were her only options. Survival meant indentured service to the assassins. They raised her and demanded payment for it. Death was final. Not the choice she wanted. Being an assassin slowly became a part of her, as natural as her magic. As deadly as her magic. Being an assassin meant more to her than she cared to admit. Her oath to protect Acreage and its inhabitants from corruption, greed, and destruction using any means necessary was how she lived. She was still willing to risk anything to accomplish it. No. She looked back at his eyes. There were some things she wasn’t ready to risk.
The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Page 18