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

by R. L. McIntyre

  Her lips trembled at the thought of Raft.

  Focus. She reminded herself as she shuffled her feet towards the window. Her arm screamed in pain, but she ignored it. Reaching the windowsill, she leaned on it, peering out at the world drenched by the storm. Her heart dropped at the sight. In the distance, she spotted the unmistakable sight of the church tower of the assassin's guild.

  Klona.

  Hinges creaked behind her and she spun leaving back against the windowsill. She watched the wooden door open. In the doorway stood an assassin dressed in traditional garb. She frowned at the sight of him, knowing the frame well.

  “Ren!” Sam’s voice rang out as he rushed towards her. He froze, looking at her face. “You shouldn’t be up,” he said gently, as if not to startle her. Strolling to her, he held up his hands.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Ren, you nearly died. You needed more medicine than either of us carried. I brought you here so I could save your life.” He breathed. She looked him over, searching for weapons. He carried nothing. No doubt scared she would try to stab him again. “There are no weapons in here.” He stopped a few feet away.

  “Why would you bring me to Klona when you’re a traitor to the guild? If anyone saw you-”

  “I still love you, Ren.” He paused. “I’d risk anything to keep you safe and alive. Even if you hate me.”

  She mulled over his words, taking a deep breath. Another boom of thunder shook the room as they stood in silence. A part of her believed his words. Once they were each other’s biggest weakness. He swore to protect her always and keep her safe, no matter the cost. Looking into his eyes, she still saw those emotions. He loved her. No doubt about that, but why then would he betray the guild? Why would he leave her to die?

  Her heart hurt at these thoughts. She much preferred to worry about Wesley and Daryl. They needed her help still.

  “I need to go back.” She said finally. “Where are my things?”

  “You need to rest! Your fever only just broke!” He still did not dare step any closer.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Dread filled her bones.

  “Three days,”

  She stared at him. Three days since the battle? Her heart dropped, and she shook her head.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you take me back to Wesley and Daryl? I belong with them!” She felt lightheaded as she leaned on the windowsill more heavily.

  Sam’s face grew dark and grave as he walked to her. He snatched her wrists, pulling her into his body.

  “You need rest,” He led her back towards the bed carrying most of her weight.

  She thrashed in his arms trying to break free and managed to scratch his face. He yelled out letting go of her one wrist allowing her to land a punch to his jaw, his hood falling off. He stumbled back from her as she caught herself midair. Her legs shook as she stood, but her glare pierced him.

  “The poison is still messing with your head. I’ll get you some food,”

  “The poison has nothing to do with this!” Her breaths were heavy and strained.

  “Sit down before you fall down!” he growled back, stepping away from the bed. Her legs continued to shake, but she knew if she needed to fight her way out, her legs needed a break. She shuffled to the bed where she sat.

  The silence continued between them, the white noise of the rain only seeming to raise the tension in the small room.

  “You belong to no one, Ren.”

  “Not even you, Sam."

  He paused before he nodded his head solemnly.

  “Yes,” he hissed out. “You don’t belong among those Templarians-”

  “It’s my choice where I want to belong."

  He let out a frustrated yell and pulled at his hair.

  “It’s because of him.” He growled, pacing. “You’ve let the fucking Captain of the Royal Guards… a Templarian get into your head!”

  “How would you know that?”

  “It’s obvious. The Assassin of Acreage is the pet of the Templarians.” He snorted. “People talk. The Samorians speak of it. Everyone is hearing about it, and I doubt the Prince is smart enough to draw your attention. You like men covered in blood.”

  “That has nothing to do with any of this. I made a deal with them! The invasion,” Her heart dropped at the thought. Wesley and Daryl were in trouble. They didn’t even know. “How long?”

  “Ren,” Sam said, trying to walk closer.

  “How long?"

  He stared at her, surveying her face. He stepped back, dropping his head.

  “You do care about them. Serena, it’ll get you killed. It nearly did.”

  “Answer me, Samuel,"

  He looked up at her eyes, seeing her rage sitting in them. They both knew they never used their full names unless their emotions got the best of them.

  “Maybe a week,” he sighed. “It depends on the wind at sea. It’s an entire fleet. At least nineteen ships.”

  Her heart dropped. That was at least two thousand men. Maybe more. Bathon was not ready for another attack, especially one they did not know was coming.

  “I have to warn them.” She said rushing to her feet and towards the door. The room spun as she fell into the door, gripping the doorknob to stay upright. Her stitches pulled pain rippling up her back again.

  Thunder roared.

  “Stop!” He rushed to her side. “You need to rest. Let me help. If you want to help them, then we need a plan. Running in with no kind of aid for them is suicide for all of us!” He bent next to her. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs before looking at him.

  “I need to warn them.”

  “I’ll get you a pigeon and you can write a letter. I’ll get you something to eat as well. Just please stay here.”

  “I want my things.”

  “I’ll get you your things and you’ll not leave until I come back, right?”

  She looked him over again, debating. A pigeon would get them the news before she could ever return. She nodded. Resting and planning would give her the tools to help.

  Sam smiled and picked her up in his arms. He carried her back to the bed. He noticed the stitches and scowled.

  “Let me fix this first,” He quickly fixed her stitches as she laid on her stomach. Finishing with tight bandages, he turned to the door. He walked across the hall and entered the parallel room. From her spot on the bed, she could see his room was cramped with furniture. Most likely the furniture that belonged in her room. He gathered up her clothes and weapons, walking them over to her. He placed it on the windowsill.

  “Try to rest.”

  “I want paper and a quill,” She sat up slowly, looking at her things put just out of reach. She knew well it was done on purpose with the hope it would discourage her until she was well enough to be back to work.

  He let out a sigh and returned to his room. He returned with a stack of paper and a quill with ink. Handing them to Serena, he rushed back and pulled over a table. Putting it in front of her next to the bed, he looked up at her.

  “Anything else?” He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in agitation.

  “You better not bring me back soup.” She scoffed before moving the paper and ink to the table. Sam left with another sigh.

  Serena sat looking down at the blank page before her. How was she going to explain this all to Wesley?

  Sam kidnapped her and brought her to Klona. He might think she ran away, or she was dead. She wondered how he would feel about that. No. Focus.

  She began to write. She began addressing it to the Captain.

  Captain,

  Since the battle of Bathon, it appears much has occurred. I never abandoned you all after the fighting. I-

  No. That all felt wrong. She crumpled up the paper and started again.

  Captain,

  In under a week, a fleet of Samorians will be on Acreage shores. Bathon is the largest beach that would allow the fleet to dock. I urge you to-

  That was wrong too. She let out a yell, throw
ing the page across the room. Too many words and feelings swam around in her head. It throbbed with all the thought.

  She looked down again at the blank page. With a deep breath, she tried again.

  Wesley,

  I’m sorry. I messed up. When I fought the assassins, I was poisoned. I know better than to wait on an antidote, but with so many lives in danger around me, I forgot about my own. I ran far away from you all, especially you. I didn’t want you to see me like that. Broken. Grieving. I should’ve done so much more during the battle. I should’ve protected Raft. I failed.

  I went to the altar to Altara. I prayed for guidance and my ex found me. Viper is back. Saved my life and spirited me away to Klona. I’m safe and I pray you and the others are as well. Please be safe.

  Sam told me the Samorian invasion is imminent. They land at Bathon within the week. At least nineteen ships. Maybe more. You have to prepare. Maybe get Daryl to leave for safety. Bathon cannot stand this. Go back to Meta. Be safe. I’ll meet you all soon.

  Yours, Serena

  She looked over the words again, her eyes heavy. Her body sagged onto the bed as she fell asleep. Rustling in the room woke her.

  “Wesley?”

  Sam frowned as he read another of her failed letters. He put a plate on the table in front of her as he picked up her last attempt.

  “Eat,”

  “Give that back,” She picked up her fork, holding it like a weapon. He tensed as he finished reading. He put it down on the table and bent down to be eye level with her. Their eyes met.

  “You’ve gotten sloppy,”

  She ignored him and stabbed some meat from the stew.

  “Serena, I mean it. You’re making too many mistakes.”

  “Just send it, please. The storm’s stopped.”

  He stood up straight with a sigh. She watched as he walked to his room and grabbed a basket.

  “Finish eating,”

  She took several more bites as he rolled up a letter and tied it to the pigeon’s leg. With a final sigh, he opened the window, releasing the bird.

  She continued to eat as Sam pulled up the chair. He sat in it backward, watching her.

  “What do you plan to do to help?”

  “I need to get supplies. The other assassins…”

  “Yeah, they’re hunting me.” Sam scoffed. He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “I will kill whoever is responsible for this lie. I’ll burn them alive for ruining my life!”

  “What happened to you that day? Why did you never show up?”

  He looked at her, his eyes pleading her to believe him. He opened his mouth and began to tell his tale.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I was so excited that day. Everything was perfect. The sun was shining, and I knew how much you loved me. After speaking with you, I stopped by the jeweler. I picked this up.” He sighed. From his pocket, he pulled out a necklace with a ring hung on it. The simple golden band sparkled in the light. “I was going to give it to you once we were wed. I knew you’d never wear it on your finger. It would interfere with your throwing knives.” He tossed it over to her.

  She caught it staring down at the ring that symbolized a life she lost. She held the cold metal, reminded of the argument they had about rings. It was an old Acreage custom, but one she felt no need for. She never wanted one.

  “You’ve never listened,”

  “No. If I had, things might’ve been different. After picking that up from the jewelers, I went to find Adrian. He sat in the hall in silence. Meditating.

  I bowed before him in silence, waiting for him to notice me.

  ‘Viper, why do you sit idle when there is a board full of missions to be dealt with?’ I nearly choked on my words. I had so much to say and his eyes bore into me.

  ‘I beg for a moment of your time, Master. I wish to discuss a wedding-’

  ‘You wish to ruin my greatest achievement with love?’ he snapped. ‘She is far above you boy and I have need for her here.’ The air in the room felt sucked out as shadows crept closer. Sam took a shaky breath.

  ‘Please, Master. Give us two weeks to be married and we will return to do any mission you wish. We will seek no payment.’

  Adrian pulled at his mangled beard in a way that always warned of the pain to come. A swift whoosh of air and a loud slap roared in the silence. Sam was tossed back into the pews, hitting his brow on a corner. He held his cheek, staring back at Adrian who stood, his face crinkled in anger.

  ‘You’re a weak excuse for an assassin!’ he snapped. ‘All you do is take. You’ve eaten my food, slept in my beds, and now you dare ask for the hand of my greatest weapon. The Death Sparrow belongs to me! She goes where I tell her. She does what I ask of her. She will never marry you as long as I live.’ He stood baring down at Sam. ‘I will make you remember your place!’

  His quick steps closed the distance between them. He grabbed Sam by the throat and held him up. Sam’s legs kicked, flailing and scratching at the hand that held him to no avail. In those moments, when his lungs screamed and his vision blurred, threatening to black out, he feared he would die. He would’ve had the door to their lair open. Gwayne walked out, looking at the sight.

  ‘Master, there is a problem’ Gwayne inserted. He bowed his head, watching. Adrian threw Sam to the ground. He gasped out, coughing and wheezing.

  ‘Leave before I end you here, boy, and never bring this up again.’

  Sam scrambled to his feet and left. Blood dripped down his face, messing into his sight. He tried to wipe it away as it dripped onto his white shirt. Scowling, he rushed to the doctor’s for fear of Serena’s reaction when she saw. He knew she would be angry and would want to elope. The idea tempted him, but he feared Adrian. He would hunt them both down. He would hurt Serena, and the thought brought him more pain than not marrying her.

  The doctor stitched his brow, and he changed his shirt, hoping to hide any evidence of the events. He struggled to decide how to tell Serena or move forwards with any kind of wedding. He headed back towards their meeting place when he smelled smoke. More smoke than an inn burning a meal. He looked up at the sky and saw the black cloud.

  He ran towards it with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Fire blazed in the distance as he laid eyes on the guild building burning up. The tower cracked and groaned before collapsing, stirring up even more smoke and dirt.

  He covered his mouth, coughing. When he looked back, he saw the body skewered on the pike.

  Adrian.

  His stomach turned as the reality of the events sunk in. The face of Adrian contorted in pain even in death haunted him. His eyes felt unclean from the sight. Other younger assassins ran around trying to stop the fire or run away. All sense of order was gone. No enemy was around. No guards, but he suspected they were the only ones to dare this.

  He grabbed at a young assassin.

  ‘Where’s the Death Sparrow?’

  ‘Gone,’

  Sam’s heart dropped, scared to find another pike with her body on it. Tears collected at the corner of his eyes. He was unsure if it was sadness or the stinging of the smoke that made him feel this way. Before Sam could continue his questions, Gwayne walked from the smoke. Blood trailed his face, and he glared at Sam.

  ‘Traitor!’ He pointed his finger at Sam, who stared.

  ‘I didn’t do anything! Where’s Sparrow?’

  ‘Viper told the Guards!’

  Next thing Sam knew, assassins turned on him. In the chaos of that night, they deferred to Gwayne instead of him. Sam’s chest still hurt at the thought, but he knew why they didn’t choose him. He wanted to get married. It was a weakness the others saw, and Gwayne had no such weakness.

  “I ran for my life. You were gone, and I didn’t have the heart to see you strung up on a pike like Adrian. So, I found a boat and left.”

  “You should’ve looked or asked more questions.”

  “They were trying to kill me! The thought of you dead,” he paused, taking a
shuddering breath. “It broke me. I barely had the sense to leave Acreage to stay alive.”

  Serena sat in silence, letting the words sink in. He sounded hurt still. The raw emotion in his voice felt like it might pierce her, but she couldn’t trust it. Sam knew her. He knew how to manipulate her by showing his emotions. From all the different accounts she heard in the camp, they claimed it was him. It was big news in the world of criminals that the assassins had fallen. Rumors were everywhere, but they all said the same two things. The assassins were gone, and Viper was the reason.

  How could so many people get it wrong?

  She thought back on Gwayne’s reaction. His surprise at the news. It didn’t sit well with her. If she heard rumors, so should have him. Why didn’t she think about it in the moment? She should’ve confronted him then, but she didn’t. Her thoughts were focused on revenge and not the details. Her assassin’s intuition told her well Gwayne’s rise to power was too convenient. Especially for an assassin. Nothing happened by chance.

  “Say I believe you. What is your next move?”

  “I need to prove my loyalty by proving who the real traitor is. The only way I can do that is to find the report the Templarians wrote.”

  “You need to get into Meta. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I got lucky. I found you and by default a way inside.”

  “Then why not take me back to my friends? Why bring me here?”

  “You needed medicine. Bathon was in chaos with few resources left. I didn’t know who I could trust. I came home hoping for a way.”

  “You want me to bring you in. Get you into Meta so you can find your evidence.”

  “Yes,”

  A sigh left her lips. She always appreciated their candor. Lying to one another was never a habit. It made his story even more believable. Their past entangled her, pleading her to trust him even if she shouldn’t. She relented to her gut, praying it was the right decision.

  “Fine. Help me stop the Samorians and swear to not harm any of my friends. I’ll get you into Meta. I’ll help you prove your innocence but double-cross me and I will end you, Sam. Painfully,”