She returned to her shadows. Swords whistled high, obviously aiming at Viper’s height and not hers. It allowed her to strike in fast below their attacks before moving to the next. She shifted her feet, adjusting to the unsteady sand as she landed another hit. The bombs exploded with a flash of light, looking like lighting in the smoke. People screamed as the shrapnel harmed some while the shock startled others. She used the fear to her advantage, sneaking up behind men before slitting throats. Just as the men grew comfortable, Serena whistled twice. The call to release and meet in the center.
Both threw another bomb before meeting in the center to wait for the explosion. Her hand reached back into the bag counting. Three more.
Boom.
Another two explosions rang out with flashes of light. The pair bolted forwards together trying to get closer to the opening between the rubble.
She opened her mouth to speak but Viper grunted in agreement already knowing. They charged forwards onto the other side of the smoke where they could see better. The lines of soldiers getting off the ships were running and disorganized. No one had taken control of the situation. She looked for more dangerous adversaries like witches or War Cats and found none.
Smoke cleared as more men made their way through the rubble. Behind them, bodies littered the area. Not a soul alive in their carnage. Soldiers stared at the valley of death before turning to them.
She spotted commanders, the air around them declaring attention. Her eyes narrowed on them hoping for a challenge. She stepped forwards as Viper snatched her wrist.
“Calm yourself. You’re getting carried away.” He warned with a playful tone in his voice.
“Bring your worst Samorian scum! How dare you enter Acreage!” she yelled out angrily. Viper smirked pulling a second blade from his hip. Holding the pair in his hands he sized up the new enemies.
Sparrow noticed one leader tilted his head at her. He rose astride his horse dressed in various folds of black and red fabric. He nearly looked like an assassin except she knew it was to hide his armor underneath. A helmet disguised his face.
The leader gave an order and more men charged. Viper grinned evening his stance as Sparrow mirrored him. He looked over at her for a moment catching the gleam in her eyes. She licked her lips as she chose her first opponent.
“Why do you insist on making things difficult?”
“You mean fun,” she returned.
They twisted back to back their breaths matching before they flew forwards. Their blades stuck out finding the perfect weakness before turning to the next. They shifted around one another in a circle constantly protecting the edges of their sphere of death. Sparrow would go left, and Viper went right. Over and over again their moves mirrored the other in the delicate choreography of their profession. Sparrow rolled over his back, his steady form supporting her as she released a dagger into a soldier’s throat. Viper moved quickly and thrust a blade between another’s chest plates. Both twisted into the next move slowly working their way back out and then together. Much like the waves of the ocean pulling back and forth so did the assassins move in unison as if tied by a string. No one grew close enough to ever strike them.
The soldiers stopped charging them. Instead they stood outside the assassins’ range watching. The assassins grinned victoriously. The enemy was petrified of them.
Perfect.
A snarl covered Sparrow’s face as she turned her blade pointing at the leader.
“Stop sending boys to fight a man’s battle.”
The commander stared at her. The brazen words startling all who heard them. Everyone except Viper who she could feel hated her taunt.
“Just have to take out the biggest one.” He scoffed.
“Archers,” the commander grinned.
Viper spun and snatched her arm pulling her forwards.
“You just had to taunt him!”
“Shut up and run!” she returned widening her stride. Time felt to slow as she grew anxious for the sound of whistling arrows. Before she heard any Viper threw her in front of him. They were not nearly far enough away, but they were out of time.
“Sam what-”
Before she could finish the whistling began and he let out a gasp. He stumbled forwards as she saw the arrow protruding his shoulder. A curse slipped past her lips as her blood warmed. She rose her hand ready to attack but Sam grabbed her hand.
“We run,” he explained breaking the shaft with his free hand and pulling her back in front of him. She tried to even her steps to him, but he pushed her forwards as another barrage of arrows flew. Her eyes glowed amber ready to defend them.
“Serena don’t!”
She felt her veins heat as she focused on the whistling. Her tongue loosened, and she spoke in Magika.
“Wind,”
A gust of wind blew at the arrows. They knocked them off course as they continued to run. She felt the drain in her energy as Sam glared at her.
More horns blared as the Samorian army formed on the other side of the rubble. Bathon’s gates opened, and the calvary charged forwards towards the army. The air charged with electricity as Serena felt magic rising.
She turned to see a woman dressed in a bodice that exposed her midriff and puffy pants walk forth. A matching blue sheer veil covered her arms and stomach as golden chains with hanging coins jingled. Her eyes glowed blue with magic as she stepped forth. She raised her arms the sand rising with ease as runes appeared on her skin.
Serena turned, her veins heating again. She was determined to stop the enemy witch, but Sam snatched her arms forcing her to look at him.
“No! Stop it before you get yourself killed.”
He shook her pleading her with his eyes to listen.
“She-”
James charged the woman. Serena stared as the woman pulled up sand like a wave throwing it at him. James pulled his black blade. He used it as a shield. The sand pelted the black metal but the moment it touched; it fell useless. The sand seemed depleted of all magic. The woman tried to react, but James pulled a matching dagger. He threw it at her forcing her to respond with her magical shield. The shield should have protected her, but the dagger cut through. It embedded in her stomach. A piercing shriek rang out as the woman gripped her stomach before collapsing.
Fear crept her spine at the image of the witch bleeding onto the sand. James pulled his dagger kicking her corpse before moving on to his next target. That could be her. If James knew. If Wesley or Daryl knew that could be her fate. They’d kill her. She prayed no one realized she used magic.
The thundering of hooves drew her attention. Calvary rushed past them charging the enemy army. They reached them, the clamoring of blades and shields rose blocking out all sound.
“Get back to the wall.” She said to Sam. She whistled hard and Vilkrim rushed towards her.
“No! You need someone to watch your back.”
“I can take it from here.” Wesley’s voice cut in. She turned and looked up at him as he strode closer on horseback.
“Serena,” Sam said his voice full of warning. She knew he was worried she’d reveal her magic to him. However, after watching James it was the last thought on her mind.
“I’ll be fine. Get your shoulder checked.” She said mounting Vilkrim. Sam grabbed her reins. Their eyes met warring with one another. Serena pulled her reins free.
“Keep up,” she said to Wesley charging forwards.
Sam watched her leave and cursed. He held his blade in his good arm and charged back into the fray.
Sparrow descended on her victims quickly. Her blade swung around Vilkrim’s neck as he stayed steady beneath her. Unlike the surrounding soldiers who blindly moved forwards, she selected her opponents with care, taking every opportunity given. She slid in and out of the soldier’s defenses landing a killing blow and moving on. Wesley moved with her. Their horses never more than a few paces apart. Together they moved as a unit charging forwards and laying waste. His presence comforted her. Emboldening her moves as s
he continued her onslaught.
The battle seemed to reach a standstill. Both sides fought against the other, neither gaining ground but losing more lives as the seconds passed. Something had to change.
Sparrow looked for a weakness to exploit and spotted the commander from before. The one who ordered the archers. They needed a parlay now before they lost too many men.
She turned away from Wesley charging in the commander’s direction.
“Sparrow!”
She ignored Wesley’s plea as she narrowed in on the commander. She reached him as they began circling one another.
“Assassin,” the commander said. “I’m curious why a native fights with Templarians.”
“You’ll burn my homeland down to get to them. It’s just simple self-preservation.”
“Doubtful. Nothing about you is simple, Death Sparrow. Your infamy proceeds you.”
“Then you know no one has survived me.”
“I’ve heard.” He said glancing at the surrounding battlefield. Bodies littered the ground as screams rang out into the sky.
“Retreat!” Daryl yelled.
Serena’s heart dropped. No. They could not be retreating already. She looked back at the beach and noticed more and more lines coming. Her army was dwindling in size. They were losing too many men. If they did not retreat now, they would not have enough to man the walls. Their last hope was the wall.
“Should I be worried about what you have in store for us? What lays inside those walls?”
She turned back to him and grinned as the shadows beckoned her to continue to play her game.
“Your worst nightmares of course.”
He smirked as the armies pulled apart but she stayed.
“Sparrow!” a voice called, but she ignored it.
“You seem reasonable. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement. There’s no need for Acreans and Samorians to be fighting. We want the same thing.”
“Not exactly but we can discuss. I call my leaders and you call yours.” She said her heart racing in anticipation. Was this it? Was this parlay? He paused thinking. He rubbed his chin before nodding.
“Fine. We have ourselves a parlay. We’ll set up the tent and both sides can remove the dead. Then we shall talk.”
He called over to the man with the horn who blew it three times in quick succession. The army retreated and Serena turned back to her friends. Everyone returned inside the walls and she relayed the parlay to Daryl and Wesley. The pair looked relieved.
“Thank the ancestors,” Daryl breathed out. “We’ll clear the dead and prepare the plans. Ike!”
Serena turned to see Ike. He was alive and well. As he walked towards her, she saw an image of Raft next to him. A cruel reminder he was gone. The loss struck her as the reminder of her failure weighed her down.
“Serena!” Wesley said. “Are you alright?” he asked concern on his face. Of course, he noticed the pain on her face.
“Yes. Just lost in thought. Let’s get everything ready. It’s time to have a parlay.”
◆◆◆
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was almost surreal now. Daryl, Wesley, and Serena walked across the beach that was still red with blood. Daryl and Wesley both dressed in armor as she wore her normal assassin garb. The sand radiated heat under the oppressive sun as they walked towards the center of the beach.
Erected in the sand was a large white tent. As they walked closer Serena noticed the smell of candles and spices. Sharp scents like curry, peppers, and turmeric were the few she could discern.
Wesley entered first pulling back the flaps to expose the richly decorated space. A large table stood against a wall full of fruit, and goblets of wine. Another table sat in the center of the space covered in papers. A sizeable area of pillows took up one corner. A young woman dressed like the witch from before sat in silent meditation. Another witch. Serena felt on edge at the sight before noticing another thing in the opposite corner. Candles and bowls of offerings surrounded a wooden statue of a man covered in scars and armor. A warrior. A God of War. She realized. She was unsure who exactly was their God of war. She never studied their deities, but the figure reminded her of the Acreage God of War, Midohr, who was also the God of Love. A contradiction, or perhaps it was a way to temper his bloodlust.
Looking at the statue it reminded her of her meeting with the Goddess. Acreage Gods were very much alive and would not take lightly to another celestial, being worshiped on their land.
A man dressed in armor and scars much like their God stood over the table. He looked up at the three of them. He assessed them. His piercing eyes took in every piece of them as the commander she spoke to on the battlefield walked in.
“Sparrow!” he said. “Come drink. You’ve earned one.” He held out a glass of wine and took it. She sniffed it. “It’s not poisoned.” He said taking a sip before handing it back.
“I must say. You are much smarter than I thought.” The General said in Templarian. His gruff accent thick. He hung onto the syllables much like in the Samorian language making Templarian sound more threatening.
“You are a worthy adversary,” Wesley said. The General ignored Wesley his eyes landing on Serena.
“I meant you,” he said looking at her. “My commander mentioned he found the great Death Sparrow on the battlefield. He’s convinced you could take down the King, but it’s rather disappointing to see the company you keep.”
“We’re on the same side General.” She returned. A hollow laugh escaped his throat vibrating off his helmet.
“I used to think so, but the Assassin of Acreage is helping the Prince of Templaria. That doesn’t seem like we’re on the same side.”
Serena felt the tension in the room rise. He was correct. She wasn’t supposed to be on the same side as the Templarians.
“We want to make a deal.” She explained. “You want the King dead so do we. He’s done more damage than any of us could fathom. He has to be stopped.”
The General stared and then turned to Daryl.
“You would trade your father’s life for your own?”
“Yes,”
“I’m not sure if that should impress me or not. Perhaps you’re more like the tyrant than you look. Captain of the Guards. Are you okay with this as well? It seems against your oath.”
“My oath is to the Crown and Templaria. Not the King.” Wesley explained. “The Prince would make a much better King and he will write a truce not to attack your lands for as long as he lives.”
The General looked at the three young people before him. He reached up and took off his helmet. His hair was slicked by sweat while his neatly trimmed beard seemed untouched. He placed the helmet on the table.
“The three of you are young to be shouldering the weight of a country. No matter your skill,”
“I may be young but that doesn’t mean I can’t do a better job than the King,” Daryl said. Another laugh escaped the General’s lips.
“We don’t doubt that.” The commander inserted a smirk on his lips. “Your father has made that very easy for you. We just wonder how a Prince can be involved in the murder of his father and still take the throne. It’s a political nightmare and if you die shortly after taking the throne that would be bad for all of us.”
“That’s why we have a plan. It may take a little longer than we like, but we have a custom in Templaria set up to depose a ruler who no longer serves the interests of the people. We can put the King on trial.” Wesley said.
“You wish to put a King on trial?” the commander said. He took a deep breath and looked to the General. The General looked over some pages on the table.
“We wish to put a Tyrant on trial. Native Acreans hold no love for him and many Templarians are losing their lives senselessly to war we don’t need. We can convince the nobles to speak out against him. We can depose him and then kill him.” Serena said. The commander’s face was grave as he thought.
“You are playing with fire. Perhaps we all are.” The Gene
ral began. “My orders are to bring back the King’s head. If doing it this way can grant me that while saving the lives of my soldiers, I like it. However, there is little trust between us. Not to mention plenty of things could go wrong with this plan. The King has significant political power and his General despises magic more than the King.”
“He cannot go against the King. When I am King, he will be dealt with as well.”
“Well aren’t you a pair of patricidal kids?”
“We realize the cost but there is always a price to be paid for evil,” Serena said. She took another sip. “We choose to gamble that one life is enough, but there is no guarantee. This is your best offer to avoid fighting and get what you need.”
“If you fail, I still need to be on schedule. I cannot just let my men starve on the beach. We’ve been at sea too long.” He said. “Give us Bathon. It was our plan initially to take it and use it to organize our invasion.”
Serena sucked in a breath. After all, they had done to take Bathon they were just supposed to hand it over?
“I know it is not ideal for you. You’ve lost lives to protect it but even if you tried to stay, I would’ve taken it over. I have many more men than you. We will continue our plans. If you can deliver the King before we leave Bathon we’ll strike a truce and return home.”
“How long would that give us?” Wesley said.
“Three months. It depends on the sea and when the rest of my troops land. Another thing. I’d want to be invited to the coronation to give my King’s well wishes.”
“Of course,” Daryl said. Serena stood rigid. They were okay with giving up Bathon? Raft died for Bathon. So many others died as well. Their graves littered the valley. They were supposed to just abandon it without a care for those who died?
“It is not an easy choice,” the commander said looking at Serena. “The sacrifices you’ve made to get here make this a worthy trade. Bathon is collateral in case you fail. We cannot report to our King anything until you have something worth his attention. If you depose him and offer us his head, we can use that to convince our King to stand down. Otherwise, we will have our vengeance.”
The Death Sparrow's Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One Page 25