The Writings of Assassination: Book One

by Cameron Style

  “First thing's first. These wolves, humans, a dragon, anything you are ever going to fight, can come at you from any angle. This isn't like practicing on a target or a tree where it stands still waiting to be struck. This is real battle. Targets move, and so do you. This is why we practice.”

  With that he struck his sword, slow, in my direction. I unsheathe my sword meeting his just in the nick of time.

  “As I was just saying.” He jumps onto a boulder swinging again, “Targets move, be prepared. That is what we will focus on today.”

  After hours of ducking, guarding, spotting, maneuvering, evading, and learning to sense coming attacks, my training for the day is done. Out of breath and drenched in sweat we make our way back into the halls. I walk with Thorn as he hangs the sword back on the racks.

  “Do you see now why I could not let you practice with me and my ax on your first day?”

  I hang my head, still gasping for breath.

  “You did well today, allow yourself some credit. We will cover new things tomorrow. Where are you staying in the city?”

  Putting my hands on my knees to catch my breath, I get out the words “The inn. By the farm.”

  He narrows his eyes with disapproval. “That little place outside the south gate? Do you not have to gold to stay within the city walls?”

  “I have not the gold nor the want. My horse is also stabled at the farm and the people are kind.”

  “Suit yourself. At least let me buy you a meal before you head back out. It's the least I can do to replenish your energy from training. You will need your strength again for tomorrow. I do not think that inn will have sufficient food.”

  “What do you consider sufficient?”

  We exit the cellar doors and make our way into the city. The Skully at the door had given Thorn much less disdain than me. Perhaps a female human in the arena, given what had just transpired, was still too much to bear. Regardless it’s not excuse to treat someone without kindness. We walk past the fountain out the Secret Citadel and back into the city.

  “Why do they call it the Secret Citadel if everyone is aware of it?” I find myself asking aloud as we pass the statue.

  “It comes from the passageways long ago that traitors once used to overthrow the Lord at the time. Since it has been discovered, most of it was condemned as prison cells. The other half was turned into the Bloody Altar beneath the arena for prisoners to fight to the death…and eventually came open to the public as a passageway to knighthood. That's still where the prisoners are. On the other side of the arena. That's also why we fight them, to lessen the prison population while the rest of the city earns some serious coin from bidding. Capitalism at it’s finest.”

  I furrow my brow at the thought.

  As if sensing my thoughts, he adds, “Though, to be fair, all who fight in the arena have done something condemnable enough to be thrown in there. Come, let's eat.” He guides me up the steps of a tavern with a golden lion flag hanging above the door. “They have the best chicken here, and mead.”

  A full stomach and a few too many meads later I find myself stumbling into the inn, thankful that neither the husband nor wife are present upon my arrival. The sun has set, and they must have retired back to the farm with Tanner by now. I'm about to head upstairs when I spot a dark figure looming in front of the fireplace. He is hooded in all black, with his back to me. His shoulders are broad, and he appears tall.

  “Hello?” I murmur to the dark figure.

  His shadow leaps around the room, casting off the fire. His head turns, but he does not speak. It occurs to me this must be the other occupant of the inn. He stands facing the flames. I remain still in my hunched over manner, near the stairs. I wait for a moment, and then proceed to head up the stairs. I need sleep.

  “You are foolish.” A deep voice comes from the figure in front of the fire.

  I stop halfway up the stairs and turn, not sure if I'd imagined the voice. The figure remains still. After a moment I continue up the stairs and to my room. Without stripping my clothes, I shut the door and fall face first onto the cot. Training was rough, but the meal alone was more food than I've had in over a week and enough to put me to sleep. Everything begins to fade. Blurred images of my room turn black as I slip into unconsciousness.

  When I awake, the door is open a crack. Strange, I remember closing it when I came in. I roll over to find a note on my dresser.

  "Be wary of whom you trust"

  I stare at the note for a moment longer before crumpling it up and tossing it to the corner. I step into the washroom across the hall. I haven't had a proper wash in days. I let myself melt in a bath of boiling hot water which soothes every bruise, scrape and scar on my skin. My muscles and joints begin to release pressure under the heat, especially in my back. Wielding a sword in battle was a whole new game. It takes a lot more muscles than I am even aware of having. Still, I need to keep up my practices and get through these battles as quick as possible so I can move onto the training at the fort. I need to continue finding out what is really going on in the Realm, and what all of this has to do with me.

  Patting myself dry with a towel I slip my clothes back on, knotting my long black hair into a braid that reaches my mid back. When I exit the washroom, I notice the room down the hall has its door wide open. Peering down stairs to the lobby I find it vacant. I must be alone. Before thinking it through my feet carry me to the room at the end of the hall. It is twice the size of mine, with a much larger bed as well. I rapidly pull open all the dresser and night stand drawers to find nothing of avail. There is a large imprint on the bed from a body. The person who slept here was quite large, presumably the man who was in front of the fire the night before. Was he the one who left me the note? Where is he now?

  I head out the inn to find the sun just beginning to rise. The purple streaked night sky begins to fade. I stride over to the farm and pet Stallum.

  “How you doing girl?” She nuzzles my hand with closed eyes. “I know, I know...we'll be out of here soon, I promise. I'll get us to the fort as quickly as possible.” As I brush her mane, I plant a soft kiss between on her nose, then make my way back into the city. The sun just begins to peak over the castle tower as I make my way in from the south gate. Something seems amiss.

  There are no shops beginning to open. No beggars on the street corners. In fact, now that I look there are no guards patrolling either. The town lie eerily silent. Looking up to the sun it appears to have risen as much as it will for the time being. Banners and flags hold still throughout the city. I run further, heading for the Secret Citadel passage by the fountain. Nothing. No one. No sounds.

  I make my way down the alley and pull at the cellar doors. They won't budge. I pound on them, hoping for the Skully to answer. No reply. Just then a shadow catches my eye to the right. A tall figure stands dressed all in black, hooded, face encompassed in shadow. He bears the same figure of the man in the hotel lobby from last night. Panic rises in me and I bolt down the opposite end of the alley. Hard footsteps begin pounding behind me. I do not know these alleys, but I try with instinct to pull myself through the mixed shadows of homes and shops until I can find my way out.

  Dead end. I bolt left. The shadow keeps following me, gaining speed and distance. I turn left again. Cornered. I’m cornered. I unsheathe my sword and turn to face the assailant.

  “You are not safe here,” His deep voice growls.

  I quip holding my sword in the defensive stance Thorn taught me.

  “They will kill you.” He speaks again.

  “Not if I kill you first.”

  “You misunderstand.” The hooded man says, face still in shadow. “I’m afraid you are being fooled, diverted if you will.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They will kill you in the arena.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  He takes a step closer, I tighten my grip on the handle.

  “No one from the arena goes to the fort. It is all a ruse f
or losing lives and making gold.”

  I try to make out his face beneath the hood, but there is too much shadow.

  “Are you the man staying in my hotel?”

  He does not reply.

  “Why did you leave me that note? Who are you?”

  “I have been sent to protect you.”

  “By whom?”

  “I cannot yet say. But do not be fooled about the arena. It will cost your life.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Kill Gravnere.”

  I take a step forward, remaining in the defensive stance.

  “Gravnere? What does he have to do with this?”

  Silence.

  “You must strike him down in the Bloody Altar. Do not go forward with the first trial. I will be waiting when it is completed.”

  He turns to walk away.

  “Wait, who are you?”

  He turns around the corner. I sheathe my sword and run after him, the alleys now spilling over with sun. He is nowhere to be seen. I chase around the corner to find nothing but wind and shadows in his wake. Could any of what he said be true? It is true I do not trust Gravnere, but I do not trust the hooded man either. This could be a set up.

  “Where do you think you're going girl?” The Skully from the cellar leaps out from below and grasps my arm tight. “You are late for practice, they are waiting for you at the Bloody Altar.”

  “I tired opening the door earlier, no one answered.”

  “Fool. I have been waiting. Gravnere has no more patience. You must come with me, now.”

  He tugs at my arm, pulling me around the corner, throwing me down the steps of the cellar doors. I get up and brush myself off.

  “Go!” He snarls waving his claws at me. After a moment I pick up a torch and make my way down the hall to the Bloody Altar.

  Once there I find Gravnere and Thorn waiting for me. Their backs are to mine as they engage in a hushed conversation. I try to sneak up on them to hear what they're speaking about, but my footsteps alert Gravnere. Skullys must have hyper-sensitive hearing.

  “Where have you been?” He snarls, eyes flaring bright neon yellow.

  I hang the torch on the wall. “I tried coming in earlier. The city was deserted, no one was here.”

  Gravnere reaches a claw up and slices my cheek with a hard smack. I put a hand to my cheek and draw my sword with the other.

  “I had you by the throat once you snake. Don't think I can't do it again.” My voice quivers.

  He looks to Thorn and laughs. Thorn is wearing a confused and empathetic expression as he glances at the cuts on my face.

  “I would love to quarrel with you once more but I'm afraid that opportunity has passed. Your time for the arena has come.”

  “What?” Thorn asks before I do. “I have only had the chance to help her practice but one day. She is not ready.”

  “I can face anything you have to throw at me,” I lie, fueled by my rage.

  “Good. Keep thinking like that. The sooner you die in the arena the sooner I get paid to have you out of my life.”

  So, the hooded man was right after all.

  “You're pathetic.” I spit, taking my hand away from my face.

  “We'll see whose pathetic when you're up against wolves. Go to the arena, now.”

  I hesitate. He removes a long, jagged dagger from his waist and rushes it up to my throat, pressing hard. “Or I can kill you right here. Which do you prefer?”

  Thorn takes a step towards Gravnere but I shoot him a look that warns him off.

  “I can defend myself.” I eye Thorn. He nods taking a step back.

  “Yes, let's hope you can.” Gravnere grabs my wrists and flings me at the Bloody Altar.

  “Dip yourself in the blood of the ones who have passed before you.”

  I catch myself before my face slams into the widened bowl of blood.

  “Unless you're too afraid to break tradition, in which the cowards way requires I slit your throat over the bowl right now and add your blood to it.”

  My face begins to burn with rage.

  “I am no coward.” I dip my hands into the deep crimson surface, rubbing blood up my arms.

  Thorn's face pales, watching me partake in this sadistic ritual. I shut my eyes and mouth and dip the front of my face in lifting it back out quick, getting only a few sparse strands of hair wet. Thorn's face shifts from surprised to horrified. Good. I turn to Gravnere hoping to instill the same reaction, but his face does not change.

  “Arena, now.” He shoves me around the Bloody Altar and up to the rusted gates to the arena. I peer out, the arena is filled to the brim with an audience. So this is where everyone was. Waiting. For me. Here in the arena to watch me die. I'll have to give them a different ending.

  Gravnere shouts something through the gate to the other end. A shout replies. The spiked gate lowers slamming into the floor. Gravnere digs his claws into my back, then strikes them down with a sharp shove.

  “Die now, human.”

  VII: Arena

  I stumble into the arena, covered in blood. The crowd roars from above. It appears as if the entire city is here. Every last seat is filled. People spill over the edges of the balconies, shoving into each other. Some cheer, some boo. My eyes affix to the gate on the other side of the arena as it slides open. I unsheathe my sword, hand dripping with blood.

  Two sets of sharp yellow eyes glow at me from the gate until it slides into the ground. Two wolves come bursting out the gate. I widen my arms and legs in an attack stance, wielding the sword in my right hand. As the wolves approach they split off around me, choosing to attack from opposing sides. With my right hand I swing hard, slamming the top of the sword into the wolf's abdomen. The crowd screeches with shock. Evidently they’re rooting for the wolves.

  The second wolf leaps up at my left, grazing my forearm with his fangs. I rip the sword from the first wolf and swing it at the other. He backs up defensive and growling, bearing all of his sharp fangs. I ease my feet forward slow, backing the wolf into the corner with the boulders and weeds. A mixture of cheers and boos ensues from above. Most still rooting for the wolf, just a handful for me.

  I swing my sword at the wolf, he jumps back quick then leaps out latching onto my upper right thigh. I let out a deep cry, my screams echo in the arena. More cheers from above. He sinks his teeth in harder. I almost drop my sword from the piercing pain shooting through the right side of my body. It's all I can do to keep a grip on the handle of my sword as I start beating the wolf on the side of the head to loosen his grip. Out of the corner of my eye I see the gate lowering once more. Two additional wolves emerge.

  No, no, no!

  I smack the wolf hard with the hilt of the sword. He releases my leg with a cry. Deep gashes mare my leg as blood begins pooling out of the wound. I smacked the wolf so hard he's crawling away, wincing. I press my free hand hard on my leg, trying to coagulate the wound. The blood on my hands and face is caked with dirt. The new wolves run my direction, the other recovering in the corner. The crowd is on their feet cheering for my annihilation. I will not die here today. Adrenaline surges through me. I put my full weight on both legs, walking to the wounded wolf while the other two bound towards me.

  “I'm sorry,” I whisper to the wolf as I slide the sword in and out of its temple. A quick death is best. I've always had a soft spot for animals, it is much harder to kill one than I would have anticipated, even with my own life at stake. Just as I turn one of the wolves leaps off a boulder at eye level. I swing my sword in a circular motion and duck. The other wolf latches onto my heel, dragging me to the ground. My face smacks hard into the dirt and I drop my sword.

  I look to my left and see Thorn and Gravnere behind the arena gate. Thorn's eyes widen with fear. He motions toward the sword. I reach for it with everything I have. The other wolf bites at my hand. I pick up the sword and swing blind, slicing the leg of the wolf in front of me and the side of the wolf on my heel.

  “Let me in t
here! Let me help her!” Thorn screams from the gate.

  I stand, wary, blood flowing from my leg. My vision begins to blur. I try shake it off. With one big gust of strength I wrap both palms tight around the sword and begin running forward. With a heavy swing I slice one wolf and knock the other out. I wait, catching my breath before the last wolf gets up. The other lies dying in the dust. I walk over to end his suffering when the other wolf begins running my direction. Lifting the sword once more I swing diagonally, ending his run at me. Moving slow, I walk to the last wolf, lying in pain, and slice through his temple like the others with the remainder of my strength.

  “I'm sorry.” I whisper.

  Boos fill the arena. If anyone is left rooting for me, their cheers are drowned out by endless boos.

  Heaving, I drop my sword, placing both hands on my upper thigh wound.

  “She won, let her out!” Thorn yells from the gate.

  “Not just yet.” Gravnere snarls, grinning. The opposing gate begins to lower again. Please, not more wolves, I think to myself as I shut my eyes.

  Prisoners. It's two prisoners. Both men, dirty, shirtless in rags. Each wields a small ax. I look back to Thorn, catching my breath enough to stand. His eyes are sorrowful. I harden my face and give him a nod, picking up my sword and readying myself. The prisoners come at me from a distance. They remain together and assess my wounds, checking which of the blood I'm drenched in is connected to a wound. Inhaling sharp I place both hands on the sword, centering the blade upright between my eyes. I hold my stance until they're close. The scrawnier of the two prisoners swings his ax towards my shoulder, the other prisoner swings at my leg. I'm quick enough to dodge both.

  I pretend I'm back in the Realm practicing with the tree and swing sideways, lacerating both of them at once. More shocks and gasps from the crowd above. One grasps his belly dropping his ax. He falls to his knees as blood trickles out from his torso. I look to the other prisoner. I've only wounded him slightly. My eyes dart to his, and his evil smile fades to terror. His arm falls and he begins to run back toward the opposite gate. I force my ever-numbing limp leg into a sprint. He only makes it halfway back across the arena before I slice the sword down on his back. He falls with a sharp cry. Who knew humans could be so much easier to kill than wolves? The crowd breaks out into half cheers this time. Wobbling a little, I look back to Gravenere who is now thoroughly displeased at my display.