The Writings of Assassination: Book One

by Cameron Style

  A soft knock comes at the main door.

  “Hello?” Keeper peers in from the other side. “I am glad to see you are awake. I have brought clean clothes for you.” He hands me a neatly folded stack.

  “Thank you.”

  “Training begins in an hour. I have told the chef…Roger…to bring you breakfast. He will be along shortly. Please dress.” He turns and exits.

  Shutting the door I pull the black satin nightgown over my head as I place the clothes on a chair facing the fire. Moments later I am dressed in my leatherwear, once again clean with no evidence of bloodshed or the memories I’ve had in them. How could they still look as if nothing’s happened when even my face reflects otherwise? A knock comes as the door opens.

  “Knight Divine, good morning. I have brought you a hearty breakfast before your first day of training.” Roger walks to the table between the chairs facing the fireplace and sets down a tray of juice, water, bread, jams and fruits. My stomach grumbles at its presence.

  “Roger, thank you so much.”

  He smiles and turns.

  “Wait,” I grab the back of his arm turning him around.

  “Yes, Knight Divine?” He looks afraid.

  “May I ask you something, in confidence?” I look to the ajar door. He follows my gaze and nods. “Keeper, does he have a name?”

  Roger holds my gaze but says nothing.

  “Roger?”

  He swallows hard and whispers low, “Yes, he has a name.”

  I look back to the door. We’re safe, for now. “And why does he always wear a hood and gloves, covering himself like that?”

  He shakes his head nervously. “I’m afraid I’ve already said too much. I really must be going.” He squirms free of my grip and makes for the door closing it behind him.

  Keeper returns just as I finish the last bite of fruit. “Have you had enough to eat, my lady?”

  I nod wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Before training we should re-do your bandage,” he motions his chin to my arm. The entire outline of VII has seeped through the layers of the bandage sticking to my arm. I had been so engulfed in my meal I hadn’t even noticed. He walks to the bathroom and procures small medical scissors and some gauze.

  “My lady,” he prompts holding his arm out. I turn my arm palm-side up and place it in his hand. He cuts through the bandage, peeling it away from the brand. Some of the fibers have sealed into the edges of the scab, tugging as he pulls. I wince gritting my teeth as he rips the remainder off. “There,” he says matter-of-factly.

  The wound is hideous. It’s the first I’ve really been able to see it. Dark brown scabs form around the edges but the center remains soft, bruised, oozing. I cannot be sure, but it looks as if Keeper grimaces. Walking back to bathroom he retrieves a small gold bowl of water and a cloth. Folding the cloth, he dips into the bowl squeezing out any excess, then dabs at my wound. I hiss through my teeth at the pain.

  “It’s infected,” I say looking at it.

  “No, but it will if we don’t treat it properly.”

  From the light of the fireplace I can make out his chin and nose.

  “Why do you wear those gloves, and that hood?” I stare him in the eyes, unwavering. He pauses removing the cloth from my arm, still looking at it.

  “I’m going to get you some medicine for the pain. I will return momentarily.” Without answering my question or meeting my gaze he stands and exits. Moments later he returns with a small jar no more than three fingers wide. Inside is a yellowish-clear jelly which he scoops with a gloved finger and spreads generously over my wound. It’s cooling and soothing.

  “There,” he says still staring at the wound. He wraps a new bandage around my arm, tucking the end in with a knot and stands. “Good. You’re ready now. Let’s go.” He reaches for my sword above the fireplace. “I have told the blacksmith to make you a sheath. He will need to measure the sword. You will have it back this afternoon.” He begins to walk back to the door motioning for me to follow. I follow his lead out the door. We make our way back to the entryway and down the eastern hall to the infirmary and training arena.

  A woman with skin pale as the moon and flaming auburn hair swings a sword at a wooden dummy with a cry, landing the blow just below the waist. She turns to stare as I walk by. Had she been one of the others thought to be the next lady? Perhaps if I had never returned she would have been the next to try.

  “Shauna, this is our lady, the Knight Divine.”

  Her emerald eyes flicker up to Keeper.

  “You are to train with one another today with swords and shields.” Keeper walks to the wall lifting two battered wooden shields and tossing them to us. “For the time being you are to practice with the swords you have.” He turns to me. “You will be able to practice with your new sword soon. In the interim, use your old one. Once you have both mastered the art of attack and defense you will move up to practicing with larger swords and steel shields.” He exits.

  Shauna stares at me as she lowers her sword and unhooks the wooden dummy to give us more room in the sand pit.

  “So, you’re the one, huh?”

  I purse my lower lip. “It appears so.”

  She scoffs. “What makes you so special?”

  “What’s it to you?” I ask, watching as she picks up her shield. I keep my shield steady waiting for her to attack.

  “Well apparently now I’m just supposed to serve under you as a soldier.” She swings at me, hitting the edge of my shield. Her aim is subpar. Her face twists into an ugly rage as she jumps and swings again. I lift my shield blocking it with ease.

  “Too slow,” I taunt her.

  “Too slow? How’s this?” She whips around aiming for my leg.

  Block.

  “Again.” I entice her.

  She snarls at me and swings one, two, three more times.

  “Better,” I tell her.

  We do this until she finally tires—both of insults and swings. I practice on her in the next round, letting her get used to blocking. Her exhaustion is catching up with her, making her slower, weaker.

  “It’s good to see you back at it,” a familiar voice pipes from the hall. After throwing a sideways swing I flip strands of hair out of my face to see Thorn, without a shirt and heavily bandaged, leaning against his crutches.

  “Thorn!”

  Shauna leans on her knees catching her breath, waving me off for a break. I jog up to him wrapping an arm around his neck.

  “It’s so good to see you back at it.” I smile. He chuckles.

  “Well, I’m not exactly back at anything yet. It’ll still be a few days until I’m off the crutches.”

  I gesture my hand to his bandaged abdomen. “And the wounds?”

  He sighs, “Still some time, but doing much better than when I first got here.”

  “I never got to thank you.” I say, hoping Shauna won’t hear.

  “Thank me, for what?”

  “For saving my life in the arena. For running out there. You didn’t have to do that.” His eyes flutter as if I’ve said something ridiculous. Perhaps I have.

  “I didn’t have to save your life? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t even try? Gravnere was using all of us for coin, he never cared about us.” He looks over my shoulder to Shauna, whose still heaving for air.

  “Why didn’t you warn me? At the bar?” I ask, lower.

  He looks down shaking his loose blond locks. “I didn’t know then. I found out about the arena bets when you did.”

  “Well, again, thank you. I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing…Lady of the Sanctums.” He teases.

  “Oh please, don’t call me that, I can’t stand everyone walking around calling me lady and bowing all the time it’s so…so….”

  “Absurd?”

  “Yes, that’s the exact word for it.”

  We laugh once more.

  “If you two are going to keep chatting over there I think I’m going to head back to my quarte
rs before supper.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you in the dining hall.” I turn to her.

  “Yeah, sure.” She sarcastically replies. She peels off the shield and lays it on the table with her sword, leaving Thorn and I alone in the training room.

  “Will you be coming to dinner?” I ask once she’s left.

  He shakes his head curling his lips inward. “I do not think so. They have been keeping me locked up down here while I’m in recovery.”

  “They still feed you though, don’t they?”

  “Yes, but it is usually very late and the food is either cold or stale. I think they save the leftovers for the infirmary.”

  “What? No. I will not have this. You are eating real food in the dining hall, tonight.” I walk over to the wall and hang my wooden shield, sheathing my sword. “Let’s get you something to eat,” I wrap my arms around his bicep helping him hobble down two steps and across the room around the sand pit. Just as we’re about to reach the door it opens. Keeper.

  “Shauna just went upstairs. Are you finished training?”

  Keeping my arms on Thorn to help him balance I reply, “Yes, she was exhausted. We got a lot in today.”

  He looks to Thorn then back at me. “How did she do?”

  “Well, after a little while.”

  “Yes, she could use more practice. I was hoping you’d help her.”

  “We made a good start today. She will improve with time.”

  Keeper nods, his eyes dim behind the hood. “Thorn, you should be resting in bed.”

  Thorn’s face changes as he looks away.

  “Thorn will be dining with us in the hall tonight.” I state.

  “No, I’m afraid he will not. He is wounded and needs his rest. We will bring him food here.”

  Thorn says nothing but the expression on his face says everything.

  “I will bring him his food, then.” I say.

  “That is not necessary, the chef will do that after we have eaten.”

  “No, before we have eaten.”

  Keeper stares me down. I can feel Thorn begin to sweat under my grip. “Jaria, really, it’s ok.” He whispers to me.

  “No, it’s not ok.” I look to Keeper, “This man saved my life. He is my friend and he is in pain, he needs a hot meal and fresh water more than any of the rest of us.”

  Keeper leans down exposing small parts of his face. “I will not have the Lady of the Sanctums doing the job of a servant and brining food to the wounded. We will have someone do it.” After a brief stare down, I decide it’s best to bite my tongue.

  “Fine.” I say through gritted teeth turning Thorn around. “At least let me walk him back to his room.”

  Keeper places a hand on Thorn’s arm above mine. “Not necessary, I will do that. You head to your chambers and ready for dinner in the hall.” Without saying another word Keeper begins walking Thorn back. As he hobbles along, Thorn glances at me over his shoulder. I turn and head back to my room.

  Dinner was a rousing feast to celebrate my return. A divulgence consisting of red wine, a turkey roast garnished with ripe tomatoes and stuffing, hot dressing, bread, even chilled butter. I take Roger aside. “Listen, I need you to make me a large plate,” I pull him into the kitchen.

  “You can have all you want right now! Dig in!”

  I shake my head. “No, this is for later. Please prepare me a plate, and save a bottle of wine.”

  He eyes me.

  “In case I get hungry later, that way I don’t have to disturb anyone and get a snack from the kitchen in the middle of the night.” I wink at him.

  “Oh,” he registers my intent. “Gotcha.”

  “Also,” I whisper, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you have something that helps you fall asleep?”

  He walks to his spice rack picking up a small shaker, “This will knock you out, every time.”

  “Is it detectable mixed in a drink?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Perfect. Sprinkle some in whichever wine glass you are giving Keeper.”

  Roger hesitates.

  “For me,” I squeeze his wrist and add, “please.”

  With a cheeky smile he abides and sprinkles some in the glass.

  Within an hour Keeper is passed out in his room, snoring.

  I head to my room while the rest of the fort is busy drinking. Roger hid the plate in one of the vacant dresser drawers and stashed a bottle of wine under my pillows. Opening my door I tip-toe down the hall and past the entryway back to the training room. Walking around the sand pit and down the hall of the infirmary I find Thorn curled over, arms wrapped around his stomach, eyes shut. I walk up to him and shake him. “Thorn,” he stirs. “Thorn, wake up. It’s me.”

  His eyes open. “Jaria, they never brought me food.” I bite the inside of my lower lip with anger. Is he being punished for me trying to help him? Aren’t I supposed to hold all this newfound power?

  “Come with me,” I grab his arm and lift him to his feet, handing him his crutches.

  “Where are we going?” He asks with a hoarse voice. He’s dehydrated.

  “To my room. You’re going to eat.”

  He stops. “I can’t. They’ll catch us.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I had Roger put something in Keeper’s wine. He’s passed out. I also had an extra plate made for you. It’s hidden in my room.”

  “Whose Roger?”

  “The chef. Come on, we have to go quick.”

  He nods licking his cracked lips. He grabs his crutches and we make our way through the hall. “This way,” I open the door without a creak as we head back to the entryway and pause looking for signs of anyone. “It’s clear.” We walk through the door and I shut it behind us.

  “Which way?”

  I nudge my chin past the apothecary and the stairs. We start past the fire. Sounds of snoring drift down the stairs from the floors above. Most everyone has gone to bed.

  “Almost there.” Reaching my door I hold a hand up for him to wait while I peek inside, making sure there’s no sign of Keeper. His door is still closed.“Let’s go.” We enter my room and I shut the door.

  “Wow…this is your room?” He looks around mouth agape.

  “No, this is my chamber,” I tease in a mocking royal tone.

  Snoring comes from Keeper’s room.

  “What is that?” Thorn lowers his voice in fear.

  “Keeper…he sleeps in there.”

  His eyes widen.

  “It’s ok, he’s passed out, trust me. We just have to keep our voices down.”

  He hobbles to the first chair by the fire and sits, relieving himself of his crutches.

  “He sleeps in there? That’s a little…creepy, isn’t it?”

  Walking over to the dresser I ease the drawer open and pull out a warm plate of food. “Yes, it is.” I place the food on the table in front of the chairs and grab the wine from behind my pillows. “Sorry there’s no glasses for the wine, they’re already filled with water.” I pull two chilled glasses with melted ice cubes from the tray Roger left.

  “Jaria…all this food, water, wine?” His baleful eyes dart up to me. In one quick motion he stands wrapping his arms around me in a tight squeeze. “Thank you.” I catch myself blushing and walk across to the chair next to his.

  “Please, eat.”

  He digs in with bare hands ripping meat off bone and gulping down both water and wine from the bottle. Color begins to restore in his cheeks.

  “Can I ask you something? How do they treat you in the infirmary?”

  His vivacious chewing comes to a halt. “Not well.”

  “Do they hurt you?”

  He shakes his head swigging back more water. “No, but they might as well when they don’t care for me properly. Even the Bloody Altar treats their wounded better than this.”

  Snoring in the next room ceases. Thorn and I freeze. The sound of boots hitting the floor perk my
ears.

  “You have to hide, quick!” I throw his arm over my shoulder quickly running him a few feet to the bed. He jumps in and I pull the curtains shut. Keeper’s door clicks to unlock. I bolt for the crutches, sliding them under the bed in one stroke of my foot. Keeper emerges. He stands in his doorway and looks around the room.

  “I thought I heard voices.”

  I shake my head hoping he doesn’t detect my nerves. His eyes flick to the food, wine and two glasses of water at the table. “What’s going on here? Was someone in this room with you?” He steps further into the room looking around. I block him from advancing towards the bed.

  “Of course not. I was still hungry and wanted more, so Roger brought me left overs. It was truly an excellent feast. I did not want the remains to spoil.”

  He studies my face weighing the legitimacy of my story.

  “And what of the two waters?”

  I look back at the glasses, one empty. “I was very thirsty.” Though I can only see his eyes and the tip of his nose and chin I know he does not believe me.

  “And the wine…?” He presses.

  “Just an extra bottle. I enjoy wine but do not drink often. When I do, I need to wash it down with water.”

  After a moment he agrees with my story and heads for the door.

  “Where are you going? It’s only just gotten dark.”

  He does not look back as he says, “I have some business to attend to. I will see you in the morning.”

  I wait for a minute after he’s left to walk back to the bed. Peeling apart the curtains, Thorn looks over at me. “Is he gone?”

  “Yes. He said he won’t be back until morning. Although it could be a lie.”

  “That’s strange. I wonder where he could have gone?”