“I’d expect nothing else from the Death Sparrow.” He grinned. She finished her plate and tried to stand. Her legs still shook, but she steadied them faster than before. Sam got up, moving towards her.
“You need to rest more.”
“I’ll be fine. We need to prepare things.”
“Ren at least rest a little more. Wait until you get a reply by pigeon. Drink some more of the tonic.”
He held out a vial. She grimaced but drank the vile liquid. It wrinkled her nose and burned her throat.
“We can’t wait. Time is of the essence.”
She ignored him and moved towards her things on the windowsill. She nearly stumbled, and Sam’s eyebrows rose to tell her this was exactly what he meant. She sat back down.
“A few more hours.”
After resting, she finally got to her feet, feeling her legs steady beneath her. She wasted no time in returning to the shadows of the night. Sam trailed her watching as she entered the streets.
Refugees crowded them covered in dirt and grim trying to find quiet places to rest. Adrian would never leave them to their devices. He’d find them jobs or get them out. People in the streets watching was a liability. A sign Gwayne was not the leader the assassins needed.
Looking around at the array of colors from Acreage, Serena had a different sense of it. It still reminded her of home, but her place in it felt different. She wanted to help those refugees. She didn’t want to turn her back on them. Those at Bathon needed her to return. People depended on her for more than just killing.
She felt less of an assassin in Klona and more like a person. Strange to feel personhood in the same streets she found her darkness, but Adrian never allowed it. He claimed her and ruled her with an iron fist. Her loyalty and gratitude trapped her to him. His death freed her.
“Ren?”
She looked at Sam and realized she paused in the middle of the street. Refocused, she knew she needed to help stop the invasion. She needed to look at a map again. Plan for weak points. Gather supplies.
She turned towards the guild and Sam grabbed her arm.
“Don’t go there.”
“It’s fine. I’ll report to Gwayne and get the information I need.”
“He could just as easily turn against you. He never liked you when we were kids.”
“That’s just because I am his better. I-”
“Why do you think the Samorians offered you a job? He’s already put out a listing on your head. He doesn’t trust you.”
“How much do the Samorians know? How do they-”
“People talk! The Samorians have been planning this for months. They’ve gathered intel easily since both guilds have always worked together before this.”
Serena froze, listening to the words. Who in the guild was working with them so closely? Did Gwayne know? Was this one of his secrets? Her jaw tensed as she clicked her tongue.
“I’ll fix this,”
With determined steps, she continued forwards. Her body still felt fatigued, but her anger easily ignored it.
“Serena, don’t!”
“No. If he convinces the assassins, I’ve betrayed them, they will hunt us and our friends. We don’t need to add that to our list of problems. I’ll deal with this.”
The church came into view and she stormed inside, leaving Sam to watch from the shadows. She entered the hidden door and climbed back down the steps. Her hood up kept her hidden as she moved through the young assassins, watching. They sensed her anger and skill and stayed back. She spotted the mission on the board and tore it down, heading to the Master’s office.
With agile steps, she opened the door and slammed the posting onto the great desk. Gwayne stood angrily.
“What are you doing acolyte?”
She kicked the door shut and knocked down her hood with a blade in her hand.
“The fuck is this Gwayne?”
“Sparrow,” he said, startled. A flash of fear clouded his eyes as he pulled his blade, eyeing her. “You’ve given useless intel and done nothing to help our cause. You’re compromised.”
“On Altara’s name, I swear I am not! I have been very busy as of late.”
“You lie with too much ease. I do not believe you.”
She gritted her teeth to not bark back her accusations. Without proof, such a thing would get her killed.
“A Samorian fleet is invading by the end of the week at Bathon. The Captain and heir Prince took the city back from the original invasion party and now plan to hold off the attack. If they gain Bathon, Klona is the next city in their path. I am working to see they lose. My mission is to protect Acreage and gain intel, is it not?”
“I need intel. We need to move on to the King. If the invasion force lands, they won’t stop until he’s dead. How close can you get to him?”
“Not close enough. I only recently earned the trust of the Captain and the Prince. The King insulates himself well, and the General is returning from the north.”
“I hear excuses,” he growled. “If you fail in this, I will see you destroyed. I’ll kill you myself.”
“I’ll find a way. I always do. Get rid of this so I can do it without worrying about every stupid assassin trying to make a name for themselves.”
He let out a breath and walked closer to her. She held her ground, gripping her blade tighter. He continued forwards invading her space. Still, she refused to move. He shoved her back against the door and quickly closed the distance between them, blocking any escape.
“You’ve always thought of yourself the smartest person in a room.” He breathed on her. His breath stunk of rot, but the look in his eyes unnerved her more. The look of a predator who had their prey where they wanted, reminded her he was no ally.
“Perhaps you are,” he said, grabbing her chin. She went to move her blade, but he grabbed her wrist, his body against her. “but I’m the Master. I have a thousand blades at my beck and call. Even for the Death Sparrow, that is more than you can handle.”
She wanted to curse him, throw him off, but he was right. If the entire assassin guild of Acreage turned against her, there would be no safety. She could never return to Meta or her friends. She had to stop Gwayne before he killed them all.
She took a steadying breath.
“Yes, Master.” She returned her voice even. He smirked.
“Say it again little bird,”
She looked him in the eyes, warring with herself. Submitting once was enough, but his eyes warned her. He wanted her to fight him so he could painfully remind her of her place. She refused him the satisfaction.
“I am at your service, Master.”
He nodded. His face relaxing as he pulled back from her.
“Remember that.” He warned. “I’ll take this down.” He grabbed the paper and threw it in the fireplace. “but I expect results. I’ll give you a month. I expect the King dead and the Samorians gone. If not, a posting will be the least of your worries. I’ll hunt you down myself. Please leave,” He sat back in his seat. She looked at him, reminded in this moment how like Adrian he was. Adrian often forced her to submit to him in similar ways. Using the word master always felt like a double-edged sword. She knew well why Gwayne calmed at her use of it.
She bowed her head at him and slid her blade back away. Walking out, she steadied her breaths. She found the maps looking over them. Cliffs surrounded the beach on either side. A lot of Acreage was, which made invasion difficult, but not here. Here a long straight of beach broke up the cliffs, offering the perfect landing point. Samoria was smart to enter a smaller force at Harkin Cliff’s and take over Bathon to stage their army. Perfect strategy.
She needed to out-think them. Losing lives meant nothing to them. They planned to lose many in their quest. No doubt if the war was not over in a month, they’d send another fleet. They’d continue until they won. Her mission could no longer be about intel or politics of court. The King’s life was their last bargaining chip. She was grateful she had not killed him earlier.<
br />
Convinced of a plan, she left to find Sam not waiting for her. Probably busy. She thought as she went to one of her old associates.
She traveled through the crowds, cutting a few purses as she moved. What she needed would not be cheap. The stall sat on the edge of the main market and was draped in flowers. On the table sat medicinal powders. The front for his real business.
The speckled haired man looked up at her as she neared. He froze, his eyes wide taking her in.
“Is it a ghost I see, or is the Death Sparrow back?
She grinned at the jest. Her white teeth were prominent from the shadows of her hood.
“No trick of the eyes. I require your services.”
He called over his son to watch the stall and walked her to the wagon of things nearby. He uncovered a chest and opened it to display the several kinds of explosives he sold.
“What do you require?”
“I need something that can do a lot of damage.”
“This one here is full of shreds of metal. When it explodes, it’ll cause plenty of carnage” he said patting a metal ball painted with a red cross.
“I’ll need ten.”
He stared at her.
“That’s unusual for you. You only carry one or two at a time. I assure you this will do more than enough damage. You don’t need ten.”
“I do not doubt your skill, I just have a large mission. I also need smoke bombs. Probably twenty.”
He stared, his face frozen.
“I don’t have enough made. I can, of course, make them, but it’ll take a day at least.”
“I need them as fast as you can make them. I’ll pick them up at sunrise.” She said holding out a purse of coins. “Half now,”
“Half later,” he finished taking the bag. “It’ll be done. Glad to see my best customer is still alive. I was worried.”
“Keep it quiet,”
He nodded and ordered his son around. She left and went back to the room where a plate of food was left out for her. Sam was around somewhere. For now, she enjoyed the solitude. She needed to rest more. Her body had to fully recover before the next battle.
◆◆◆
Chapter Twenty
The next day even before the sun rose, the pair of assassins were preparing for their travels. Serena walked through the mostly empty streets to the market. A few scattered birds flew off, disturbed by her as they pecked at the dirt for worms. In front of her, several wooden stalls were slowly coming together, displaying their wares. They ignored her as she spotted the wagon. She felt a giddy excitement rise in her chest at the new toys at her disposal. As she neared, the explosive expert saw her.
“Sparrow!” the man exclaimed. He smiled and ushered her over. “Look!” he said, pointing to the five bags stuffed with explosives on the back of the wagon.
She pulled out one marked with a cross and then inspected one painted black. They looked as good as ever. The shells perfectly round and the insides felt balanced. Few of his bombs ever discharged wrong, which was why she came back to him time and time again. She could make her own, but she was no expert. She appreciated his craftmanship and turned to him.
“Better than usual. I’m sure I’ll be back for more.” She said handing him the pouch of coins from her waist. He smiled.
“It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” He returned. “Please do come back,”
She smirked as she began slinging the bags over her shoulders.
“I’m always back. An assassin’s job is never done.” She returned standing up tall with her wares. “May the Gods watch over you,” she said in Acrean.
For a moment the man stood in shock before he bowed his head in reverence.
“May they watch over you as well,” he returned in Acrean. She nodded her head and walked off into the streets. Sam stood with the horses at the back of the inn, out of sight. He stared at the bags she carried with her.
“What did you buy?” Sam rushed to take a bag from her. Not suspecting the weight, he nearly tripped himself.
“I wouldn’t drop it if I was you.” She returned as she began strapping on the bags to her temporary horse. Sam opened the bag and stared inside. His face dropped.
“What in the afterlife do we need all this for? Are you sending smoke signals to the Gods?” he said as he tied some to his horse’s saddle.
“If they decide to help, I would not turn them away.”
“You and I both know this isn’t enough to stop an invasion force.”
“but it might be enough to escape.”
He tilted his head, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“The great Death Sparrow is preparing for a retreat?”
“No, I plan to get in, kill some big figures and get out. I’m not trying to stick around and bash heads. I’m strategically putting them at a disadvantage and then letting the army take care of the fodder.” She prayed it was that simple.
Uncertainty filled her bones, but she knew her path continued at Bathon.
“Any word from Bathon?”
“No, he probably forgot.”
“That does not sound like Wesley.”
“Wesley?” Sam took a deep breath. “I’m not doing this. Take my horse if you must, but I will not watch this.”
“Watch what?”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“If you want evidence of your innocence, you need to come.”
“I can-”
“You want a favor. I require a favor.”
“Have you forgotten what the Templarians did to us?”
"I know the danger, Sam. I’ll never forget, but he-”
“He doesn’t even know you!” he snapped. “He doesn’t know how Adrian whipped you until you begged for him to stop and then kept going. He doesn’t know why you hate soup. He doesn’t know your greatest secret!” Her heart skipped a beat remembering well he knew everything about her, including her magic. “He knows nothing but the image you put up for your mission. How do you care for a man that knows nothing about you? A man who you can’t even trust with your secrets and who doesn’t trust you with his? Going to Bathon to save them is unwise. It’s a death sentence. We’re better with the Samorians.”
His words cut like knives. Each reminding her of the truth.
“We’re not better with the Samorians. They will change Acreage.”
“They will make us Kings! The real Acreans, not these Spiritless fools. Serena, think about this.”
“They will put their pawns in power!”
“If we fight the Samorian army, they will not offer us mercy. They could help us.”
“It will come at the cost of our home. They’re the enemy right now!” They paused looking at one another, both devoted to their paths. “You spent too much time with them.”
Silence hung between them before Sam mounted.
“I don’t think this is right.”
“Sam-”
“But you’re alive. If my help can keep you so, you have it.” He took another deep breath. “I am grateful to have you back on my side.”
“I never left,”
The pair rode off out of Klona leaving the problems of the assassins behind them, for now. They pushed the horses hard, trying to reach Bathon by evening. Hours of riding dragged on as the sun rose high in the sky and then descended. Sam’s watchful eyes noticed every tense muscle in her body. He gripped the reins harder as they neared. He did not hide his displeasure. Serena felt she traveled with a dark cloud the way he brooded next to her.
“Stop it,” she growled as the shadow of Bathon rose in the distance.
“What?”
“Stop brooding like a child. This is the situation we are in, so just accept it.”
“I’ll never accept losing you, especially not to the enemy.” He snapped back, letting his eyes fill with his emotions. Serena’s heart stumbled over itself, feeling remorse for the way things went.
“We cannot change the past, Sam. Focus on the mission.” She return
ed pulling ahead of his horse, not wanting to hear his reply. He left her in front, seeming to not want to show his face to her either.
With time they evened their positions, returning to a comfortable quiet. The walls came into focus as they rode towards the city gates. Before they even arrived, the doors were opening. Daryl smiled brightly, rushing through them towards the pair. Wesley stood further back, not rushing forwards but holding his ground. He waited patiently, even though she spotted the anxiety in his face.
“I’m so glad to you see you back Serena!”
“It’s good to be back.” She replied riding inside the door and dismounting. Her boots hit the ground with a loud crunch as she refused to let her eyes fall on Wesley for fear her heart would race faster. Before nearly dying, she decided to not allow such things, but her head could only tame her heart for so long. It would always rebel to have what it wanted.
“I have an idea for the invasion force.” She said pulling the bags off.
“Get settled and we can talk. You’ve been riding most of the day.” Daryl pointed out. He looked over at Sam.
“You’re Sam,” he said, his voice even. Sam dismounted and nodded. “Well, I hear there’s been a big misunderstanding, so I’ve reserved judgment. We can use any help you can give. I’m sure two assassins are better than one.”
“The Viper and the Sparrow are-”
“Sparrow and Viper,” Serena cut in. “Don’t forget my name always went first.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“We’ve worked together for a long time.” Sam finished.
“Follow me. We’re using the town hall as our staging point.” Daryl said, grabbing a bag of bombs. He looked inside and gave an approving look as he began to lead. The pair followed as they reached Wesley. He ignored Sam, his eyes boring into Serena.
“Hello Wesley,” she said, trying to hide the emotions she felt in seeing him. She noticed his sleeve was still bulky. Still wrapped in bandages. A scowl crossed her lips as he noticed her eyes.
“How is she, Sam? Is she really as well as she thinks?” he said looking over at Sam. Sam’s face showed his surprise at the question.
The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Page 23