Dragon Assassin 1: Twin Fury Read online

  Dragon Assassin

  1: Twin Fury

  Arthur Slade

  Dava Enterprises

  Copyright © 2019 by Arthur Slade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Zhivko Zhelev

  Map by Garnet Whyte

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. An Eye for an Eye

  2. The Fortress

  3. The Points

  4. The Egg

  5. The Curious Echo

  6. Scales and Bones

  7. Only One Choice

  8. The Logical Thing

  9. Deals to Dream Of

  10. A Day of Luck

  11. A Good Name

  12. Things Come, Things Go

  13. A Frozen Moment

  14. An Important Word

  15. Once More

  16. An Ounce of Servitude

  17. Lessons Learned

  18. A Little Reading

  19. Advice and a Gift

  20. Two Warnings

  21. A Final Order

  22. Making a Decision

  23. Under the Starlight

  24. The Fall

  25. Never

  26. My Word

  Also by Arthur Slade

  About the Author

  1

  An Eye for an Eye

  I lost my left eye during blades training at assassin school. My twin brother did the deed using a clever feint and a quick crosswise cut that caught me by surprise.

  “Well, Carmen, that’ll leave a scar,” Corwin had said. Then he’d laughed that snorty, snotty laugh that had grated on my nerves a thousand times since childhood.

  My vision had been too blurry to aim a cutting blow at him, and I wasn’t certain if I even wanted to. He was the only family I had. And despite his laughter, he may not have known how deep the wound was. He often made a silly joke when he’d done something stupid.

  But when I stumbled and fell toward the floor, Corwin dropped his blade and caught me. “Aw, sorry, sis,” he said, holding me against his chest. Then the healers rushed in with their bandages and salves and led me to the healing room. Maestru Alesius—my master—soon followed them, bringing the bad news:

  “You will lose that eye, Carmen.”

  I was thirteen. I’d been ahead of my brother on the honor roll—the top of the class. I often wondered if a bout of jealousy inspired my blinding. The blades were sharp, but we students weren’t supposed to cut each other—the idea was to keep the mind sharp as well. And I’d love to know where he’d learned the move. I’d never seen it before, and I was better with the sword than him. Did he have a secret teacher?

  Everything was harder with only one eye—the sword fights, the dagger throws, learning to avoid traps; even the poisons and potions were more difficult to pour.

  A half-blind assassin was a joke. I was pretty certain my fellow students had chuckled and celebrated as my position on the honor roll slipped. I had the knowledge and the skill. But the patch over my eye meant I had a weakness, and the school trained assassins to exploit weaknesses.

  I’d have quit, perhaps to be a scullery maid or to work in the massive wheat fields of the Akkad Empire, if only to get away from the other apprentice assassins who had once been beneath me and who now scorned me. I especially wanted to flee from the kinder ones who looked at me with pity.

  But Maestru Alesius had insisted I stay. “Adversity will toughen your mental bones,” he’d promised. His support and my perseverance had kept me in school. Three years had passed since the incident. Three years of struggling to keep my spot. I was finally sixteen, in my final week of classes.

  Corwin would graduate at the top of the honor roll. He was the best with bladed weapons, the best at hiding in shadows, the best assassin the school had seen in many years. He may even be better than the legendary Banderius. All the kings, queens, and archons would seek to hire Corwin. Maybe even Emperor Rima himself.

  I’d be lucky to get hired at all.

  2

  The Fortress

  Red Adept Assassin School was a fortress built on the top of Mount Egret, and no one had ever conquered it. The small pocket of mountains was an area that no country was allowed to lay claim to—it belonged to the assassins. It was perfectly positioned on the border of the Akkad Empire and between the other five realms. The fortress had three hundred and eight secret gates locked by the strongest locks protected by ancient, powerful spells. Because no one could watch every door, the number of gates meant that there would always be a way out.

  My brother and I were babies when we were left in a box in front of one of those gates. We never knew why we were abandoned, but we did know that a gate opened and an assassin took us inside. We were raised in that fortress—to work in the kitchen, to clean the floors, to wipe the latrines. But we watched the maestrus. We watched the students, and we practiced in the dark. And we were invited to attend the school when we turned twelve, which put us on the path to becoming assassins.

  Anyone in the mortal lands who wanted to hire an assassin could send a raven with payment, and soon after, one of the gates would open and an assassin would slip out. Or the assassin would saddle a giant black swan and take to the sky to land silently on a castle wall and complete his or her mission. Many nervous kings and noblemen, worried that their enemies had hired one of us, listened at night for those never-to-be-heard footfalls.

  There was one group that should never fear us: upon our graduation, we swore an oath to never kill a child. We also only took the jobs that aligned with our moral beliefs. This system had worked for the last two thousand years, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t work for two thousand more.

  3

  The Points

  My fourteen classmates surrounded me, all seated at a long table set with fifteen pestles, fifteen mortars, fifteen oil burners, and a selection of knives. Piles of dried leaves from several plants, including mint and basil to disguise the smell of any poison, sat in the center of the table. The final exam for Potions, Poisons, and Alchemy was about to begin.

  We students were a variety of skin shades and body types and came from every realm and corner of the empire. The Red Assassin School wants its assassins to be able to fit in. The more shapes, sizes and colors the better. As much as the heroic stories have us dashing into houses and fighting, it’s better to not stand out. We want to do our job then melt right back into the crowd.

  My brother was at the far end of the table with his two cronies: square-jawed Gregum and willowy and cold-eyed Scyllia. I didn’t like either of them because they brought out the worst in Corwin. Or he brought out the worst in them. I knew Gregum was from Trella because he bragged about how rich his family was and that he grew up in a walled mansion. The rest of us kept quiet about our countries because the less information you give an assassin, the better.

  Megan of the red hair and perfect face was directly across the table. She’d given me the nickname Cyclops, so I’d decided to hate her forever. Next to her was Thord, whom I actually liked. He had blond hair and was larger than the other assassins, but despite his size, he’d always spoken kindly to me. To everyone, in fact. Though I could do without the pity I often saw in his eyes.

  “Wort’s poison,” Maestru Nestor shouted. I shuddered at his barked command, then smiled. This was an easy one for
me. I gathered the green leaves from a jar, crushed them, and mixed in the oil from black ivy seeds, knowing each portion perfectly. I was done before everyone else. Maestru Nestor came over to sniff my concoction. He nodded without smiling. I’d never seen him smile.

  Despite my grinding, slicing, and pestling talents, I was at the bottom of the graduating class. For each assassin skill, a student would receive points, and I lacked points in the sword fighting, grappling, dagger work, garrotting, and other hand-to-hand combat techniques, all because my missing eye made it so hard to judge distance. But I excelled at alchemy, logic, and finding hidden messages in secret scrolls.

  “You look puffed up and proud, Carmen,” Maestru Nestor said. He had never liked me. Well, he didn’t like any of his students. “Remember, we aren’t training you to be an apothecary who cures boils on goats. I expect perfection.”

  I nodded, and he moved on.

  My empty eye socket itched behind the black patch. I preferred people to see right away that I was blind in one eye, instead of having them goggle at a glass eye, wondering why it wasn’t moving along with my good eye. Or worse, the junior students laughing when the glass eye stared off to one side.

  After Maestru Nestor had inspected every other student’s work, giving them all emotionless nods, he shouted, “Brillig’s acid.”

  I had the list of ingredients memorized. I gathered them from the piles on the table, including vitriol of Damen, petra salt, and alum. Once they were mixed together, it would become an acid that had to be carried carefully in glass vials. It would eat through metal, wood, and flesh.

  I used the pestle to grind the salt. Holding the bowl in one hand meant I always knew where it was. And, after a few more additions, I mixed all the ingredients together. I risked a quick glance at the surrounding students. I had to turn my head quite far to make up for my lack of peripheral vision.

  Everyone else was still grinding. Even Corwin looked like he was struggling with getting the right consistency. Good! I grabbed one of the small glass balls in front of me and uncorked it. The ball was designed to be thrown at an enemy or at a wall, the glass smashing to release the acid. All I had to do was use the funnel to the pour the mixture into the container. I lined it up, confident I wouldn’t miss.

  The smell of acrid smoke alerted me to my mistake. Stupid, stupid eye! Several drops of the acid splashed onto the table, thankfully missing my fingers. But my good eye watered up, and I pushed back from the smoke, slid on my bench, and nearly fell over. I dropped the decanter and a huge hole began burning in the stone floor.

  I looked up to see Maestru Nestor looking down. A smile crossed his face. “Not satisfactory, Carmen. Not satisfactory at all. You lose five points. Now clean all this up.”

  I did clean it, using soda powder to neutralize the acid. The whole time, I avoided looking at the other graduates. What a stupid way to end the class.

  An hour later, the freshly inked grades were hung up, and I discovered my mistake meant I wouldn’t have enough points to graduate. The other students backed away, happy with their own marks, but I was still staring at the numbers.

  “Can I help?” Corwin asked. He gently lowered his hand onto my shoulder. He was in one of his brotherly moods. “I'd feel horrible if you didn’t get your Red Assassin cloak.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I can’t get those marks back. And we graduate in three days.”

  “You could find a swan egg.” He said it so quickly I wondered if he’d been thinking about it for some time. “Ask your maestru—he’ll be able to figure out how many points to assign you. I looked into it when I thought Scyllia might graduate above me…but I don’t need the points now. You could do it.”

  “It’s dangerous. Wild black swans could easily kill me.”

  He waved his hand, dismissing my fears. “You eat danger for breakfast. Remember when we practiced our flying skills?” We had jumped from cliffs into deep water and had to learn to maneuver ourselves through the air on the way down. It was supposed to make us better at landing on parapets. We got points for each jump. “You nearly beat me!”

  I had felt fear during those tests, but I had felt exhilaration too. It turned out I loved flying, if only for a few seconds.

  “It might be possible,” I said.

  “Good! I see the competitive fire in your eyes.” He slapped my back. “Get a swan’s egg and you’ll graduate. I’m sure. And if you fail, you could still be an apothecary. One of the best.”

  “I don’t want to be an apothecary!”

  “You don't give up, do you? I love that about you. Just ask Maestru Alesius for the extra points. He dotes on you.”

  “He doesn’t dote.” I pointed at Corwin. “At least my maestru likes me.” Maestru Nestor was his.

  “I don’t need you to be liked.” He chuckled. “But I’m sure you can get an egg, sis.”

  I stared at my marks. All that work almost lost. “Yes. I might be able to do it. Thank you,” I said.

  “We’re in this together.” He often ignored me, so this sudden softness from him surprised me. “You’re the only family I have.”

  And that was the truth. Despite everything aggravating about him, he was my brother. And the slash that took my eye was most likely an accident.

  Or, if it was intentional, perhaps he regretted it.

  He walked away. I’d never seen anyone with such a confident stride. It was as if he’d been born knowing exactly where every step he took in life would land.

  “You’ll need feathers if you’re going egg hunting,” a voice said beside me. I shuddered and pivoted.

  It was Thord. His smile showed his perfect white teeth.

  “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “No!” He blushed. Assassins were trained not to blush unless it was part of a deception. I was pretty certain this was a real blush. “Your brother talks loud. I heard him say something about a swan egg, and I put the rest together.”

  “Then you snuck up on me?”

  “I’m sorry that I surprised you.” I couldn't get a good read on him. He was talented with weapons and above average with all the other skills, but he just seemed too nice. There was no such thing as a nice assassin! Or was it all a show to keep us off our guard?

  He had curly blond hair. And blue eyes. And was always friendly to me. That kept me on guard too.

  “Why would you give me feathers?” I asked.

  “Because I collected them from the swannery. For an art project.”

  “An art project? Assassins don’t do art.”

  He crossed his muscled arms. “What I do in my spare time is my business.”

  Who has spare time? I nearly asked. I did remember that he was particularly adept at constructing devices and had once made a clockwork owl that impressed the maestrus. And the rest of the students. Even me. So maybe he did artwork for fun.

  “And,” he continued. “The reason I am offering the feathers is because we will be part of a guild once we graduate, and guild members help each other. So, don’t look for some deep motive.”

  “I would have to owe you for this,” I said.

  “No strings attached. Only feathers.” He said the last line with a smile.

  Why was he being so kind to me? I couldn’t come up with a reason to say no. “I will take your feathers,” I said. “And I will owe you nothing.”

  “That’s the deal. No. Wait, I want a story—I want to hear how you got the egg. Because I know you’ll be able to do it.”

  “Fine. I’ll take the feathers, and I will owe you a story. It’s a deal.”

  We shook hands. His was pleasantly warm.

  4

  The Egg

  The nesting ground of the massive black swans was a four-hour hardscrabble journey from the fortress. The way was rocky, and the climb to the flat peak nearly impossible. But Red Adept Assassins needed wings. The giant black swans were a great asset to every assassin. They would silently carry their masters to the tops of castles or hov
er near bedroom windows, so the assassins could jump in, do their work, and jump out.

  And that was why I had undertaken the journey. Night had fallen by the time I reached the top of the rocky precipice. Exhausted and sweating, I crept through the nesting grounds of the black basilisk swans.

  This place was even more dangerous than the journey. The swans themselves were not like the little swans in lakes. These were at least six to eight feet tall with a wide wingspan, razor-sharp beaks, a sleek muscular back, and long talons on their webbed feet.

  I had ridden on the backs of several swans as part of our Mastery of the Air class. They were powerful creatures who were both willful and obedient and strong. Each one I rode could easily carry my weight. What I loved the very most was when I could just swoop through the heavens at full speed, the wind in my hair. I became a goddess of the skies. No wonder so many feared us assassins when we had creatures like this on our side.

  But these swans I was walking through were not on my side. They were wild, and if one mother grew angry, she could strike me dead with her beak. But Maestru Alesius had promised me I’d receive the points I needed to graduate. So, Corwin’s plan was working.

  Well, as long as I did my part.

  I walked between the massive nests made of branches, mud, and feathers. I had drenched myself in a potion that made me smell just like a swan. And they smelled somewhat horrible. The swans had sharp eyesight, so I was also wearing the feathered costume of the egg gatherer. I’d used the feathers Thord had given me and pasted them to a rawhide outfit. The beak mask hiding my face was itchy. As stupid as I looked, it was enough to fool them. Now I just needed luck to give me a helping hand. Sometimes an egg would roll out of a nest. Or a mother would die, and the eggs could be brought back to the school to be incubated in the swannery.