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

by R. L. McIntyre

  Her fingers relaxed their grip as she charged forwards. She ducked under another blade, her elbow swinging out to connect with a rib. She spun, her blades outstretched as they sliced through skin. Warm blood caressed her as she quickly ended the last of the men.

  Her breaths came out heavy at first. Blood dripped from her fingers as she surveyed the room. She looked over to Ike, who slowly opened the door to the hall. Raft’s eyes stayed on her. He stared, his mouth agape.

  “Collect your arrows,”

  Raft bolted to act as she moved back to the window. She looked outside, seeing it was still quiet.

  “No one’s moving,”

  She looked at Ike, uncertainty slipping in. How? Shouldn’t the Captain have made a move by now? Where was he? Were they alive?

  A shard of pain punctured her heart, but she ignored it. If they could not act, it was her job to see the mission completed.

  She whistled loudly. Her three distinct notes trilling upwards into the silent night. The sign to move in. She rushed to collect her blades, drying them on a blanket before sheathing them. She turned to their task.

  They were taking the town hall and the leaders inside themselves.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sparrow wanted to curse. Something was wrong. She could sense it in the air like prey does a predator. The halls were silent. Too silent for another force to be taking over. She pointed to the front doors and Raft rushed to open them. Her soldiers sneaked inside. They looked at her uncertainly. This wasn’t the original plan.

  “Go floor by floor. Clear them of Samorians. Some of you go to the roofs of the nearby buildings. Pick off any soldiers that get past us and alert us if more are coming.”

  Ike pointed at several soldiers and sent them back outside. The soldiers moved in trios down the halls and opened doors. They cleared rooms and moved to the next.

  A dark staircase leading down drew her attention. Whatever happened to the Captain would be discovered down those stairs. She stared into the darkness for a moment, steeling herself for the inevitable. If he was dead, the pain she felt was her fault.

  She crept down the stairs. Each step was silent and carefully chosen. It allowed her to listen closely. The soft whistle of a breath drew her attention. Someone was inside the room. Her body tensed in preparation.

  She palmed a set of blades as a single torch illuminated the room. The light from the flames shook, casting various shadows into the room. Banging echoed against the walls. She noticed that the wall where the door was supposed to open didn’t. It was shut. Three men dressed as assassins stood in front of it, waiting. Small rocks and pebbles fell from the edges of the door as it moved. They held blades in their hands, preparing to attack once the door opened.

  Sparrow held her breath, lining up her shots. Then she released her blades. They landed with the accuracy she expected. Two assassins fell to the ground as the third turned to her. The assassin threw a blade. Sparrow dropped to the floor, dodging the blade while also swiping out her foot. The assassin stumbled, allowing her the time to get to her feet. Sparrow palmed two new blades as she charged towards the assassin. The assassin went to throw a handful of pins, but she knocked the arm down and stabbed at the wrist. The pins fell to the ground as the assassin moved again.

  The assassin quickly fell into defense. A novice move. Assassins never wanted to give up offense. Sparrow elbowed the assassin in the jaw and kicked out the knee. He fell forwards, and she slid her blade into his chest as the door finally opened.

  She pulled her blade as the Captain stood staring at her. She kicked the body away and flicked her hand, trying to discard some blood.

  “You’ve taken too long. I have my men sweeping the building and maintaining our perimeter.”

  “Sparrow,” the Captain said, relieved.

  She moved to retrieve her blades. Inspecting the dead assassins, a sense of foreboding fell over her. It wasn’t chance that the Samorians were waiting for the Captain and his men. She didn’t believe in it. She quickly bent and searched the assassins, finding nothing. No reason for them to be here.

  She dealt with four assassins in total. That wasn’t a full squad. Assassins if they worked together worked in pairs. The idea was it kept everyone honest. Four was not a normal number. Most likely eight as a tribute to their gods, which meant four were missing. She needed to find them before they found her.

  “How far into the building are they?”

  “Ask Ike. He’s been leading.”

  She walked up the stairs, the clamor of fighting louder. The building seemed to shake with the fights happening above them. Bells could be heard ringing in the distance. The alarm bells near the gate. The Samorians knew they were here now. They had to keep the two parts of the army separated.

  “We’ll finish here. You should help the Prince.” Sparrow looked at the Captain and shook her head.

  “He has James. Those were assassins. I’ve killed four. That means four are missing. You need me to deal with them first. They shouldn’t be far.”

  The Captain nodded and gave orders to his men. She held knives in her hand as she moved up the stairs. She walked onto the floor, not actively engaging in the battle instead of searching for assassins. Any Samorian who got too close abruptly met their end as she continued her pace forwards.

  She heard a woman’s scream and spotted a Samorian lieutenant. He held his blade to the woman’s throat. The woman looked horrible. Her face was bruised, and she was in a skimpy nightgown. Serena was tired of men seeing the women of the land they conquered as prizes.

  She started forwards towards the pair. The Captain stood arms up, speaking to the man. Serena had no thought of speaking to him. She flipped the blade in her hand and threw. It rotated in the air before landing in the man’s forehead. The woman screamed in shock, falling to the ground and the Captain turned to her.

  “I wanted him alive.”

  Serena ignored him and yanked out her knife. She cleaned it and slid it into her belt before grabbing the woman’s hand. Serena looked at the room the woman had come from. Just a simple bed furnished it. She bent, picking up the sword that had been at the woman’s throat.

  “Take this. Go into the room and push the bed against the door. Don’t come out until the fighting stops.” She said. The woman stared, but Serena shoved her back towards the room.

  “Serena!”

  She went to say something back when she heard a twisted version of her Sparrow’s call. The notes she sang in a gentle trill upwards were out of order and ended with a sinister down note. She bolted to the nearby window and peered out. There on the roof of a nearby building was an assassin she did know. One of the few Samorian assassins she worked with and despised.

  “I thought you were here, Sparrow!” he said, gesturing his arms outwards. She threw a blade through the window at him. He jumped back as it landed at his feet.

  “Don’t run away, Reaper!”

  She headed for the steps. Dark memories flood her mind. She’d been only a kid when they first met, but he left an impression on her. He was ruthless then, and probably more so now. Not surprising he was still alive, probably close to fifty. As a kid, she looked up to him and the power of his name. People cowered at the name Reaper. They cowered at the Death Sparrow, too. The last time she saw him, he scolded her for not being fast enough. Nearly took off her hand. Now it was time to test who the superior assassin was.

  “Serena,” the Captain said, grabbing her arm. She glared at him.

  “My job is the assassins. Yours is getting the hall. Finish your job.”

  She pulled away. She could see his worry, but there was no time for it. Once outside of the town hall, Reaper jumped from the roof in front of her. He dressed in all black, but he pushed back his hood and scarf, exposing his greying hair. He smiled at her. She could see his trimmed grey beard that confirmed his age.

  “Show me what you look like child,”

  “Why should I do that?”

/>   A quick flick of his wrist and a blade slid through the air at her hood. She dodged and glared at him.

  “You should respect your elders. I know Adrian taught you that. Painfully if he had to.” He glared, his eyes full of threats. She could remember Adrian teaching her many things through pain. Age meant nothing to her.

  “You are not my elder. Elders are those better than me. You do not belong to my brotherhood and you most certainly have nothing to teach me.”

  He smirked at that, nodding his head in mocked agreement. He pulled his sword and circled her, using the tip of his sword to draw a circle.

  "I believe this is your game, is it not?”

  “I thought Samorians didn’t play games.” She returned her eyes, looking him over. He carried a few throwing blades. Not even a full set. She noticed the bag she suspected had pins dipped in poison. She looked at his arms for any hint of what he hid there, but the fabric kept it from sight.

  “No. We don’t. This isn’t a game. It’s a promise. The Templarians nearly destroyed your guild, and they’re a bunch of fools. What then does it make you? Captured and degraded? Then you turn your back on the creed for these liars? Come on, Sparrow. What could possibly be worth the trouble of protecting them?” He stopped in front of her. “I will only offer you this once as I respect your talents. Join me. My creed is much more fitting of a beast-like yourself. These assassins you’re pledged to will never survive the war. So, join the winning side while you can. No use bleeding for people who don’t care. They will only destroy you.”

  She stood there for a moment, thinking. The logical part of her mind raced. He was right in so many ways. She had no love for the Templarians. She cared for people as exceptions to the rule. The guild wasn’t the same with Gwayne in charge. In many ways, it felt weak. Before she would not have hesitated and taken the best deal. Now she stood, hesitation tensing her body.

  “What would you do with Acreage?”

  "Whatever we wanted. It’s your land, Sparrow. If you want to burn it down, then burn it. If you want to call out whatever strange magic still exists, then do that. I don’t care as long as you do your missions.”

  She snorted at his words. More forced servitude.

  “The only reason you offer me this is because you want me to work for you. You want to put on your chains just like the Templarians. You want to control me, and I am sick of being controlled.” Her magic rose in her veins as she tried to calm it. “You want me to bow to you, Reaper? I bow to the Gods, not to you or any man. Not anymore.”

  “Then you shall bow in death,”

  She shifted her weight and pushed off her back leg towards him. Her blade swiped at his face, but he swung up his sword to stop it. Her second blade slid in and stabbed him in the side. She dug it in deep as he yelled out, staring at her. She caught him off guard once. It wouldn’t happen again.

  She jumped away as his leg rose to kick her back. Evening her stance, she waited. Time moved on agonizingly slow as she wanted a quick end to this fight.

  “You’ve always been a fucking problem.”

  She felt her magic at the tip of her tongue, and she bit it back. There were too many eyes watching. He charged her, his sword moving with a speed she hadn’t fully expected. He thrust, slashed, and countered with ease, backing her up. She watched, looking for another opening. Her eyes were trying to keep up with his moves as he quickly closed every opening there was.

  A foot connected with her chest and she stumbled back, rolling to her feet.

  “You pay attention to too many details, Sparrow!”

  She slid her blade up her sleeve and threw a handful of dirt at him. He blocked it, shaking his head.

  “Juvenile! I expect more from you!”

  He relaxed into his sense of superiority. She smirked and dove forwards under his legs, slicing her blades at the tendons in his ankles. Her blades scraped metal, and she frowned, rolling to her feet.

  “You insult my intelligence,” he said, turning back to her.

  Something caught his attention, and he looked as an arrow sailed into his shoulder. He yelled out in anger, pulling the arrow free. She turned to see who dared shoot.

  Her eyes widened, staring at Raft, He stood in the doorway with a smirk on his face. Now wasn’t the time to be helping. Interfering in a fight between assassins was a death wish. One Raft didn’t realize. She looked for Ike, but he was nowhere in sight.

  She saw Reaper throw a blade, and she threw one as well without hesitation. The blades collided midair, falling aside. Reaper turned to her, shocked.

  “You had an opening, and you protected a Templarian?”

  She wanted to curse. He was right. She chose Raft over a quick end to this fight. Gritting her teeth, she charged him as he laughed. Whatever his next move, it needed to focus on her. She could not have given up an opening just for Reaper to kill Raft, anyway.

  She reached up to bury a blade in his chest, only to once again strike metal. He wore light armor. Unusual for an assassin. She grabbed the fabric, ripping it with her other hand to expose it. He sliced his blade against her arm. She held in the pain and rolled aside.

  No time to think about her mistake. She looked at the thin pieces of metal that decorated his body. Reaper was up to no good. The metal looked crafted to fit every muscle of his chest and legs. His arms were free to move, unlike other armor she saw. She saw nothing like this. The only plausible conclusion was they used magic to form it to his body. Earlier, she’d gotten lucky, slipping her blade through the cracks in the armor to his side. It would not happen again.

  “Do you like it?”

  Ignoring him she threw one blade after another trying to map out his movements. Trying to get him to make a mistake. One grazed his neck, but not enough for a fatal blow. Tired of her attempts, he charged again with a flurry of attacks. She pulled out her sword, catching his as sparks flew from the blow. She held strong with two hands as he put his weight behind the blow. Their blades slid down one another’s to the hand guards where they stuck pushing back and forth with their weight. Her strength alone would never win. She angled her blade so the guard would push the tip away as she moved closer. She spun and hooked his arm under her armpit. Arching her back, she pulled his weight. He flew into the air. She changed her hold, twisting his arm behind his back. He landed on his stomach as she placed her foot on his shoulder, holding him down. She shifted his arm and snapped it.

  He yelled out, squirming beneath her. She pulled her blade to decapitate him, but he shifted his weight, tossing her off. She stumbled back as he got to his feet. He glared at her. His eyes seethed, trying to burn into her.

  He pulled another knife, his muscles tense. She waited ready to dodge when he threw it away from her. She turned, unsure where he was aiming until she saw Raft. She bolted. His name rising to her lips as she ran in long strides. Time seemed to slow as she ran, counting how far she was away.

  She wouldn’t make it.

  She saw Raft turn, his eyes growing wide at the blade coming towards him. It grew closer and closer. She saw him freeze, as if unsure how to dodge. She knew it sealed his fate, but still she ran. Even if she’d never make it in time. She needed to try.

  Before the blade could strike, a form collided with Raft. The two forms groaned as Ike stuck his head up, looking at her. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth.

  He couldn’t get the words out. Not in time.

  Pain erupted in her lower back. She grimaced against it as her finger shook, reaching to pull out a blade. She inspected it, noticing the slight green tinge. Poison. Of course. She’d expect nothing less from Reaper. Luckily, her antidotes sat on her waist, but first she would have to finish the Reaper. She threw the blade back at Reaper, who dodged with a smirk on his lips.

  “Weak,”

  “Bad shot. Never got good at throwing with your left”

  He glared at her. Blood rolled down her arm, slicking her hand from her earlier injury. She gripped her blade tighter, hoping to ma
intain her grip. The pain in her back felt like it might stop her, but she ignored it.

  “When did you get so weak?”

  She tried to ignore the way those words cut through her. Assassins believed relationships with others made you weak. Her friendship with Raft was just that. He held no purpose in gaining intel. There was no reason to be friends with him or protect him.

  It was a weakness. Assassins couldn’t have that and survive. A handful of names were now people others could use against her. Every assassin would target them to get to her once they realized her blunder. She would have to deal with that problem once they took Bathon.

  She moved towards Reaper as if she was angry enough to let her emotions cloud her judgment. He smirked as she moved swiftly, giving him a clear opening to her throat. He moved towards it and she shifted, protecting her throat with her shoulder where his blade cut. Her blade then sliced the side of this throat. Blood poured out as his eyes widened. He held his neck, trying to hold back the blood, but it slipped through his fingers. He stumbled to the ground. His free hand threw a blade at her she easily dodged. He opened his mouth to speak as his eyes filled with rage.

  “I’m not a child anymore, Reaper.” She said as he collapsed on his back. Blood pooled around him as he laid there. She waited until his breaths stopped and his hand fell away from his neck. She walked closer and checked for a pulse.

  Dead.

  Satisfied she walked away from him, turning to look back at the field of fighting. It was clearing out mostly. The soldiers were moving towards the gate where the rest of the fighting was. Several buildings blazed on fire, and smoke rose like heavy clouds to the heavens. These streets seemed quiet now, and the men moved towards the front. Raft walked to her sheepishly.

  “Sorry,”

  “You need to pay attention more.”

  “I said the same thing.” Ike growled.

  Before Serena could scold further, she heard growls. Loud, earth-shaking growls. She turned and looked at a trio of golden eyes. She froze, eyeing the spotted beasts as they walked from the shadows.