by P. T. Hylton
He let the chains fall to the wet ground and leapt forward. Before Longstrain could move, Zane planted his feet and threw an uppercut that connected with the man’s outstretched jaw. It was like hitting stone. A wave of numbness shot up Zane’s right arm. From the way the punch felt when it landed, he almost expected Longstrain’s jaw to be uninjured, but he was relieved to see a stunned look of surprise on the pirate’s face as he struggled to keep his feet. The torch fell to the ground, and Zane kicked it as hard as he could, sending it spinning into the trees. They were in darkness now, the rain falling around them and only the thin light of the crescent moon by which to see.
Zane hopped his better night vision would be advantage enough. He’d sparred plenty, but Longstrain had fought to the death again and again. Zane threw another punch, but Longstrain saw it coming. He didn’t dodge or block; instead, he leaned into the blow, taking the hit to the eye like it was the cost of doing business. The pirate let out a grunt as the blow connected, then leapt forward, grabbing Zane around the waist and tackling him to the ground.
Before Zane knew what was happening, Longstrain was sitting on top of him. The pirate was using his knees to pin Zane’s arms to the ground. Zane tried to blink the rainwater out of his eyes. Longstrain smiled again, and this was a smile filled with sadistic delight the likes of which Zane had never seen before and would never see again. In that moment, Zane realized Longstrain liked being hunted. He liked taking on the best the ferox society had to offer. He liked it when they found him, because then he could crush them.
Longstrain drew back a fist and slammed it into Zane’s face. The young ferox heard a cracking noise as the pirate’s punch connected with a cheekbone that would never again be quite the same shape. The world seemed to buck and roll under Zane as he struggled to hold onto consciousness. He’d never felt a punch like that, and he’d fought a Cragsman.
Longstrain put a hand behind his back and brought out a long, thin blade.
“You opted for the quicker death,” the pirate said. “There’s no shame in that. It shows wisdom. I’m happy to grant your request.”
As the pirate raised the knife, Zane made one final desperate move. He pushed his left arm, not upward against Longstrain’s knee, but downward against the wet earth. The mud gave a quarter-inch, and he slipped his arm out from under Longstrain’s knee.
As Longstrain brought the knife down, Zane’s hand went up. He struck Longstrain’s wrist, diverting the knife just enough that it stabbed him in the right shoulder rather than the throat.
Longstrain grunted as his hand slipped off the knife, and a moment later Zane was pulling it out of his shoulder. He knew this was his only chance. He gripped the handle hard and stabbed upward. The pirate’s jaw might have been steel, but his eyeball wasn’t. The blade pierced his eye and sank through into his brain. Longstrain jerked three times, and fell on top of Zane.
Zane lay there for a long moment, struggling to breathe under the weight on top of him, his mind swimming from the pain in his face and his shoulder. After a long while, he pushed Longstrain’s body aside and struggled to his feet. He may have just killed a legendary pirate, but he still had a job to do tonight, and he intended to do it.
He stumbled in the direction from which Longstrain had come, and he soon reached the house. To his surprise, no one stopped him as he walked through the door. There were servants, but they just watched, mouths agape, as he stepped inside. Finally, one of them, a bald, old man with bushy eyebrows stepped forward.
“Sir,” the old man asked. “What did you do?”
Zane’s voice was weak when he spoke. “I killed him.”
The old man drew in a sharp breath. “Impossible.”
Zane shrugged. “He’s lying out in the rain. Check for yourself.” With that, he brushed past the old man and went deeper into the house.
He found the young woman sitting at a table reading a book. She was as beautiful as all of Longstrain’s wives were rumored to be. Her hair was a deep brownish-gold that reminded Zane of honey. She wore a long knife on her belt, a knife not dissimilar to the one currently lodged in her husband’s eyeball, but she made no move to reach for it when she saw him. She let out a slight gasp and her eyes widened.
Zane realized he must look quite the sight, covered in blood, both Longstrain’s and his own, and soaking wet with rain.
“Melody,” he said.
She gritted her teeth and shook her head fiercely. His use of her name must have given him away as a ferox. “I’m not going with you,” she said. “You can’t make me. I escaped my damn family and I’m not going back to them.”
Zane took a step forward. “They don’t want you to.” He nodded toward the pendant hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck.
She looked uncertain for a moment, then her hand went to the pendant.
“Your father told me it’s a family heirloom,” Zane said. “And you’re no longer part of the family.”
She slowly unhooked the necklace and held it out to him, her hand shaking.
He took it and turned to go.
When he was almost at the door, she said, “Why don’t you kill me?”
He sighed. He wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place. He’d achieved the unthinkable, but all he felt was cold. “Because that’s not what I was hired to do.”
“I’ll tell them,” she said, shouting now. “I’ll tell his wives. They’ll come after you. They each have pirate crews, and they won’t stop until you’re dead. You’ll be hunted for the rest of your pathetic life.”
Zane didn’t bother answering. He went to the stable, found his horse, and started toward the nearest town.
CHAPTER ONE - NOW
Jacob Von Ridden sat behind his large desk, his hands folded in front of him, and his ample belly pressed against the oak. He squinted at Lily in a manner that suggested he wasn’t entirely pleased.
“Tell me what you suggest I do about this situation?”
Lily bit her lip against the first four responses that sprang to mind. Her chair was shorter than his, and sitting in it always made her feel like she was being reprimanded by the schoolmaster. She remembered the first night she’d sat here, back when she’d been Zane’s apprentice and she didn’t understand even the basics of the abditus craft. It felt like another lifetime. She hadn’t seen Zane in over two years now, and, lately, she spent more time at fancy dinner parties than she did with a sword in her hand. The socially-awkward-but-deadly girl she’d once been was now only a memory.
But some of the lessons still remained. Just because she was now studying to become an abditus rather than a ferox didn’t mean she couldn’t use the things she’d learned during her time as an assassin-in-training. Though some might not feel the same way.
She leaned forward, meeting her mentor’s eye. “Were I you, I’d congratulate your apprentice on a mission well accomplished and on her uncommon ability to think on her feet.”
Jacob sighed. “It’s not your ability to improvise that I’m worried about. Nor your…uncommonness. It’s your inability to follow simple orders and execute a carefully planned strategy.”
“Caleb said—”
“Bah! Caleb isn’t your mentor. I am.” Jacob rubbed a weary hand against his eyes. “Tell me your assignment.”
“Jacob, is this exercise really—”
“Please. Humor me.”
Lily took a deep breath. After everything she’d been through, she resented being treated like a child, but what could she do? Her past was gone, and she’d worked damn hard to forget it. She’d never be a ferox. And Jacob Von Ridden controlled her chances of becoming an abditus. Unless she wanted to go back to her parents’ farm, she needed to do what he asked. At least occasionally.
“I was to accompany three members of the King’s Guard to the home of a man suspected of stealing from the king. I was to use a shimmer to hide our approach. When the Guards engaged the target, I was to use the shimmer to disappear from view and let the Guards
do their job.”
Jacob nodded sagely. “And that wasn’t what happened?”
Technically, that was exactly what had happened. She’d disappeared as the Guards knocked on the door. But it wasn’t a lone thief who’d answered; it was five armed bandits who quickly engaged the Guards in combat. Two more leapt from a second story window to get behind the soldiers. But Jacob knew all of this.
“If I hadn’t acted, those three Guards would be dead.”
Jacob nodded slowly. “I do not disagree.”
Lily hadn’t been able to stand by and watch as good men were slaughtered by criminals. She’d leapt into the fray and evened the odds a bit. As such, three of the bandits were dead and the rest were in custody.
“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.
Jacob held up a finger. “Firstly, you used glides of your own design. Glides that have not yet been approved by the Abditus Society for field use.”
She couldn’t argue with that point. She had done it. But she wasn’t sure if Jacob was upset because she’d used her glides, or if he was still disappointed that she’d specialized in glides instead of shimmers like him. Either way, she couldn’t resist throwing a little barb. “Use of unapproved magical devices. If what my old mentor told me is true, you know a little something about that.”
Jacob scowled. Any mention of Zane was enough to make him angry. She didn’t use that particular strategy against him often, but it was awfully effective when she did. “That’s exactly why you should listen to my caution. I know first hand the damage unauthorized magical devices can do to your career. But that’s not the main reason I’m upset.” He held up a second finger. “Number two, you engaged in combat.”
Had she ever. It still gave her a thrill to think about it. Nothing but a bit of steel between her and death. She still sparred regularly. At least Jacob hadn’t forbidden that. But this was the first time in a long while she’d been in a real honest-to-goodness, trying-to-kill-each-other fight. And it had been wonderful. But Jacob wouldn’t understand that. So she reiterated one of her earlier points.
“If I hadn’t jumped in, those Guards would have been killed.”
Jacob frowned. “Lily, please try to understand. I’m attempting to ease you into these types of situations. The King’s Shadow is often called upon to assist in larger missions. We may not always know all the details, and going off on our own, going against our orders just because it feels right in the moment, that’s how wars are lost.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Tracking down an idiot who stole some silver from the king is a war, now?”
“Of course not,” Jacob said, “but the same concepts apply. We don’t know what was supposed to happen on that mission. And what you did caused a change in the plan, like a pebble in a pool of water, and there is no telling what the ripples will cause.”
Lily thought about that a moment, then her eyes widened. “Wait. Those Guards were supposed to die?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“I think you might be.”
“No. I doubt they were supposed to die. But, the thing is, I don’t know any more about the larger situation than you do. The king has long been trying to rally support among the nobles to take a legitimate crack at driving the bandits out of the north where so many of them are holed up. It could be the king decided the best way to raise the support was to have a few well-liked Guards die.” He held up a hand before she could voice her outrage. “I’m not saying that’s what happened. The king usually doesn’t do things that way, not unless he has to, but my point is that you just don’t know.”
“So I’m supposed to let my friends die because the king might want it that way?” she asked.
Jacob sighed. “Look, I understand. I really do. You trained under a ferox.” It seemed as if he still couldn’t bring himself to mention Zane by name. “And a ferox knows the whole story. He does what he needs to do to get the job done. The difference here, as an abditus in the royal court, is that you often times don’t even know what the job is. All you see is your tiny role. You’re playing on a much bigger game board here.”
Lily leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “I’ll follow orders. I’ll jump through whatever hoops I need to. I promised you I’d put my full effort into becoming an abditus, and I am. But I won’t watch good people die just to follow orders.”
“Says the assassin’s former apprentice.”
Jacob’s words stung a bit, but Lily did her best not to let it show. Jacob might have known Zane for a long time, but that comment proved he didn’t understand him. Zane had a code, even if it was a strange one. He killed, yes, but he looked people in the eye when he did it. He never claimed to be a good man. He was honest with himself and the world about what it did, and Lily was only starting to realize how rare a quality that was. Every day she learned a little more about life here in the royal court of Opel, and every day she respected Zane a bit more.
After a moment, Jacob held out his hand. “Enough of that. Let me see the glide.”
Lily felt a twinge of excitement. As much as she missed the ferox life, she had to admit she loved making glides, too. It required a precision, a mental focus, similar to that required on the field of battle. She went to that same deep place when she fought and when she crafted glides, both disconnected and fully connected with the world, sensing everything around her while and distracted by nothing. Glidemaking didn’t come quite as naturally to Lily as swordplay, but she was making progress. And this glide, her newest, was very good. She’d been nervous to show her mentor, as he was a harsh critic of her work, but she knew deep inside that this time he’d be pleased.
She reached into her boot and pulled out a knife. With the flick of a wrist, she sent it spinning toward the high ceiling. When it reached the peak of its ascent it seemed to hover there for a moment. Its spin slowed, and it gently began to descend, handle down. It came to rest in Jacob’s outstretched hand.
He gripped the handle, turning the blade this way and that, inspecting it from various angles. He flicked the blade into the air, mimicking Lily’s move, and she winced as it stopped midair and shot downward, burying itself in the desk next to Jacob’s hand.
Lily said, “You have to orient it so that—”
“Yes, yes,” Jacob said impatiently, pulling the knife out of the desk. “I see it now.” He flicked it into the air again, and this time it hovered near the ceiling for even longer than it had when Lily had done it, before gently descending back into his waiting hand.
“This is…good,” Jacob said, his eyes not leaving the knife. “I can see the possibilities. Not ready for production, of course. The orientation requirements alone make it unsalable to anyone who hasn’t trained as an abditus. And then there’s the question of whether the concept could be adapted to swords. Maybe even arrows, though the wind factor would be difficult to compensate for.”
Lily had already created a sword-length version; in fact it was embedded in the sword attached to her hip right now, but she wasn’t ready to show Jacob that. She’d only begun experimenting with arrows. As Jacob speculated, that was proving much more difficult.
“But,” Jacob continued, “this is good. Quite good.” He slid the knife back across the desk to her. “I’d like you to pursue this line of study. Military magical objects are fairly controversial, but now’s the time to experiment with such things. After you’ve finished your apprenticeship, you’ll be far too busy for such frivolity.”
Lily slid the knife back inside her boot. She let her mentor’s words roll off. It was just his way. He felt he was being lax in his duties if he didn’t lace each compliment with two insults.
The thing that had surprised Lily most thus far about her life as an abditus-in-training was that Jacob was actually a very good mentor. His style was very different from Zane’s, and Lily’s relationship with him was very different, too. Where she’d felt like Zane was often like a more experienced, wiser partner who worked with her side-by-side, Jacob was more
like a teacher who gave her carefully crafted assignments and sent her to complete them.
Both approaches were effective, Lily had to admit. She was coming along just as quickly as an abditus as she had as a ferox.
There was a knock at the door, and Jacob called for the visitor to enter.
The door opened and Caleb Col, the King’s Sword, walked through the door. Caleb had broad shoulders and an unruly mop of dirty-blond hair that hung over his eyes. He wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in presence. There was something about him that filled a room and demanded attention, even when he was in the presence of the king himself. He was in his mid-twenties, very young for the position of King’s Sword, the king’s personal representative in combat and, along with Jacob, one of the king’s top advisors. But none could dispute he’d come to the position fairly. He’d been a distinguished member of the King’s Guard for three years before taking this role. Faraday, the former King’s Sword, had left a sealed envelope with instructions in his chambers that had identified his recommendation of his replacement, as was the custom. Faraday had selected Caleb as his preferred successor, and the king had agreed with his late Sword’s suggestion.
Caleb gave Lily a stiff, formal bow as he entered, the same as he would for any noblewoman of the court, and Lily rolled her eyes. Caleb didn’t seem to notice. He turned to Jacob.
“What’s the status?” Caleb asked. “Have you briefed her?”
Lily sat up a bit straighter at that.
Jacob gave his head a quick shake. “Just getting to that.” He motioned to a seat beside Lily, and Caleb sat rigidly, his back not touching the chair. Something about him didn’t look right when he was sitting, Lily thought, like he’d been formed to stand at attention.
Caleb turned to Lily. “Nice job out there with the King’s Guard. The king was impressed.”
Lily’s eyebrows shot up. She turned to Jacob and asked, “Was he?”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “As I said, I was getting to that part.”
