King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (18 page)

“It would be a shame if I had to leave, then,” Kells replied, dryly. He saw his opportunity, and he knew when to push.

“A trade, then,” Royth said. Kells raised an eyebrow. “Save my life, and I’ll tell you everything about the Nest’s operations in Barra. That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?” Royth asked.

“What guarantee do I have it will all be true?” Kells replied, with his arms crossed, and his voice stern. He knew full well that men made many promises when backed into corners, and a man who had lied for twenty years could very well lie again.

Royth thought for a second. “Do you remember when you were younger, and you asked me to see into your future to try and find your wife?”

“I do,” Kells said, guarded, a brief spike of hesitation in his voice. “Why?”

“Do you remember how I told you I saw a beautiful woman, with emerald eyes, underneath the apple tree in spring?”

Kells spoke slowly, not knowing where Royth meant to go with his words. “I do.”

“And you found her, not two months later, sitting under an apple tree with her younger sister?”

“I did.” Kells grumbled. He remembered that day; instead of listening to Royth, he’d gone with his gut, and courted the wrong sister. Kells was struck silent, and filled with embarrassment - and hate.

“I’ve never misled you,” Royth said with a smirk, “I gave you exactly what you asked for, and it was up to you to act on it. And so, here we are again: I give you my word, and I swear upon your miserable wife that I will tell you everything you wish to know.”

“She’s not miserable,” Kells retorted - a bit quicker than he should have.

“I know you, Kells,” Royth said. “And I’ve met her. She’s too young to be happy with you, and we both know it.”

Kells flinched, and reached for his sword. His hand trembled there, for a second - but Kells stopped himself, and steadied his hand. Royth wouldn’t die by his hand - not today, at least. “Alright,” he said, “You have an accord, Royth.” Kells unlocked Royth’s nearest hand to him, which was chained to the wall, before exiting the cell and shutting it. He found a dark corner to squat in, and wait for the assassins to appear.

“Kells,” Royth said to the dark corner, “Do you have a plan?” In response, Kells raised a single finger to his lips. Royth promptly quieted himself. They waited, with lingering, nervous glances, in the darkness - Kells, for the danger, and Royth, for the inevitable results.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Caliandra walked carefully down the hallway to the dungeon, with the maids right behind her. The guards ahead would be unaware; she meant to keep them that way. The red-haired maid did her best to distract from it, with idle chatter.

“What does that mean?” she asked, in accented Barrish. She pointed to the banner that hung from the wall – blue and proud. “What is the meaning of your crest?”

“Strength and loyalty,” Caliandra replied, answering the woman’s question. She’d have never deigned to talk with strange maids before, but her revenge depended on keeping them safe – and any suspicion from the guards would put them in jeopardy. She suffocated her panicked instincts, and walked on, head held high, as if nothing were the matter.

“Is that why there is a bear?” the red-haired maid asked. “Bears are loyal, yes?”

“Without question,” Caliandra said. “They are very loyal, and very fierce when provoked.” The red-haired maid grinned.

“I should be a bear,” she said. “In my next life.” The red-haired maid looked down the hall, and saw a guard coming. “Your guards are very handsome,” she said. “Do you not agree?”

Caliandra blushed in embarrassment as they approached the guard, who exchanged a flirtatious glance with the red-haired maid. The dark-haired one only glared. “I do not have an opinion on it,” she said, and only offered a slight nod to the guard as they passed, and rounded the corner. “I do, however, believe I should know when I would be released.”

“When we’re safe,” was the reply. Caliandra found little comfort in it; her safety was not assured. And though she knew that she would get to see Royth die, a gnawing doubt emerged in her mind that she would survive it.

They rounded the corner to the dungeon, where two guards were stationed outside, and two more were walking through the halls. The deep voice spoke from aside her, and said, softly, “Don’t make trouble for us,” as Caliandra was prodded with four inches of sharp steel reminder.

The walking guards passed the three women without incident, and Caliandra waited until they were a good distance down the hall in the opposite direction, before she approached the dungeon. The two maids stayed close behind her as Caliandra smiled, and addressed the pair of guards at the dungeon door.

“Good day,” she said, “I’m here to see Royth, under Sir Kells’ watch.”

“The prisoner’s busy,” was the guard’s curt reply, as he shook his head; his cheeks were bone-thin, and his eyes, deep in haunted sockets. “You shouldn’t be here, Princess.”

“It’s Lady now,” she gently reminded the guard.

“All the same, you aren’t allowed past this point,” he said. “Royth sees no visitors without Sir Kells’ supervision.”

“And I am here to do exactly that.” Caliandra’s heart pounded, as she wondered if her gamble would work. “Please go to him, and check?”

The second guard looked to the first. He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “I cannot abandon my post, and -”

He did not finish his sentence before the stern maid’s dagger dug itself into his neck. The maids struck like angry vipers, quick and fierce - their daggers slashed and bit the guards, and brought hem bloodied to the ground. The walking guards took notice, and charged down the hall.

The red-haired maid produced a small curved blade from beneath her dress - drawing it from a thin scabbard, strapped to her leg - and launched herself into a frenzy, striking the guards. Caliandra watched her dodge and parry their spears with ease; it was as if they were jabbing at air. One guard made an unfortunate thrust, and extended his spear too far. The maid punished his ignorance; with an overhead strike, she parted the deadly tip from the spear, leaving him with only a long stick. The other guard lunged forward with his spear, and found himself quickly without an arm.

Caliandra stood awed and mesmerized by the sight of the melee, pressed against the dungeon door – not willing to run. Not wanting to. She was jolted back to her senses by the dark-haired maid’s voice. “Help me,” the dark-haired maid growled at Caliandra, and drew her attention away from the fight.

“What?” Caliandra said.

“Here.” The dark-haired maid held out keys to the dungeon door; for a moment, Caliandra hesitated. But only a moment. She took the keys, and began to try them on the door - finally arriving at the right one. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

“It seems we made the right choice,” the killer said, bemused. Her accent had not changed, unlike the red-haired maid’s; she was Kersikki, then.
The red-haired one is most likely Barrish, then,
Caliandra thought.
I wonder how she came to be what she is.

“Of course,” Caliandra said, and looked back at the fight, transfixed.

The red-haired maid continued to fight; the one-armed guard called for help before she struck him down. The other guard had the good sense to produce his sword, and call for help as he fought. Their exchange was fevered, but short-lived; her attacks seemed to come at him from all angles at once.

He made an admirable attempt to defeat it, until, at last, he made a brutal swipe, thinking to cleave her in twain. But the maid had avoided it - and her feet danced on the walls. She flipped about gracefully, as though she were an acrobat - and it were anything but a deadly battle.

Each successive attempt the guard made to strike missed; she flipped and tumbled and kicked and jumped until, at last, he saw nothing. Caliandra gasped as cool steel entered his lower back, and exited the front. A moment later, it was gone, as was his life.

The Princess and the dark-haired maid unlocked the dungeon, and Caliandra entered first. The maid called to her fellow killer. “Come here!” she said.

The red-haired maid giggled. “Did you see that last one?” she asked. “A lovely dance we had.”

The dark-haired maid scowled. “We are not here for your amusement,” she said. “Focus, until we are out of the castle.” she said.

“Of course.” The red-haired maid curtsyed, and gave Caliandra a gleeful smile. “After you, Lady.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Kells heard the commotion from upstairs, but stayed hidden in the dungeon – waiting for the Sparrows to come to him. He cringed as he heard the last, unfortunate gurgles of the men he’d worked alongside trusted, for so many years – they could have been saved, had he acted, but he might have died before he’d gotten to the door. He stayed in the shadows. They had died, and he lived. If he died, too, their lives would have been lost in vain. He waited, and he listened, and he stayed tense. The dungeon’s door opened, and slippers took to the stairs, one careful step at a time; Royth’s Sparrows had come calling for his head.

But Kells did not think of the opportunities he might have if Royth lived; the chance to learn more about the most secret of secret orders, who it was said had a man or woman in every castle in the known world. He’d heard stories, of course, but until now – never met one. As he sat in the dark, about to face Sparrows – the kind of killers his Erimeni brothers and sisters might have become – he could only think of what came next.

Quick and careful footsteps led them down the stairs, into the dungeon proper. Royth repositioned himself, clever as he was, to make it seem he was still chained. He looked up. “Lady Caliandra,” he said, as he addressed the women on the stairs. Kells’s heart skipped a beat.
What is she doing with these hired blades?
“How nice of you to visit.”

“Where is Kells?” she demanded. The Captain of the Guard remained hidden, coiled like a viper in the dark, and watched one of the Sparrows – a red-haired woman – unlock the jail cell, and let herself in. He could hear the other walking around carefully, checking the corners.

“He ran,” Royth replied, with a mocking, nervous smile. “When he heard death was coming, he ran, like a frightened child. I suppose you don’t become Captain of the Guard by taking risks,” he added. Kells grimaced at the remarks, and watched the red-haired Sparrow walk over to Royth, sword in hand and a murderous gleam in her eye.

“Did you see us coming, Royth?” she asked, head tilted. “I heard about your gift. I wonder, did you feel my blade in your gut already?”

“Sir Royth. And yes,” he replied. “But I also saw what Mother Swallow would say when she found out you killed a Shrike.” The red-haired Sparrow stopped, dead in her tracks. Kells was intrigued; if he lived to see the morrow, Royth would have some answering to do.

“He’s lying,” the other Sparrow said, from the other side of the room. “Kill him.”
She’ll be upon me soon,
Kells thought.
I cannot act until then
.
I can’t save him.

“Prove me a liar. See the brand upon my chest. Then check the hidden tell,” Royth said. He was stalling for time, but his words were effective; the red-haired Sparrow held back her blade.

“What’re you waiting for?” Caliandra yelled. “Stab him already! Get on with it!” The words almost jarred Kells to action; he knew she took the loss of her brother poorly, but hiring Sparrows, and joining them? It was foolish and reckless.
Yom, if her mother knew…

The red-haired Sparrow ignored Caliandra and her dark-haired companion, and checked Royth’s chest. Sure enough, she found the bird-shaped brand. “And the hidden tell,” he said, glancing downward. She reached to his pants, and pulled them outward. The murderous glare turned to one of mild sadness – then of confusion, and recognition. She turned to the stairs, where the dark-haired Sparrow stood.

“He’s telling the truth,” the red-haired Sparrow said.

“So?”

“So we can’t kill a Shrike,” she replied. “Have you ever once heard of a Sparrow killing a Shrike?”

“We’re saving the Crows a visit,” her friend replied. “Nick his throat and be done with it.”

“Who’s to see us out of the territory, then?”

A beat passed. “The Lady will,” she replied. “Now do your job, let her have her blood, and we’ll leave anon.” Kells heard the other’s footsteps coming closer. He would have to act soon. He just hoped that Royth would be able to fend for himself – and as the red-haired Sparrow wound up for a fatal strike, he prayed for his own quickness and strength.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The wait was forever; the attack ended in moments.

Caliandra looked on with an awful feeling in her stomach. She had wanted Royth dead; but as the Sparrows sprang into action, and Kells leapt from his hiding place, she realized that the melee was more damaging than she thought. Kells had heard her intent; the very man who’d tried to keep her brother alive might lose his own, all because she wanted Royth dead that badly.
Is killing Royth worth it, if Kells dies?

She glanced over at Royth and the red-haired maid, hoping for a small victory there – for the decision to be made for her. But for every quick, skillful attack the maid launched, Royth avoided it; all but one, which sliced his arm. Caliandra had never expected Royth to be so adept at fighting – and when he capitalized on the red-haired Sparrow’s mistake, Caliandra cringed. He dodged a thrust, gripped her sword arm, and kicked her inner leg above the kneecap, with his foot. She howled in pain, and punched Royth in the throat with her free hand, causing him to gasp for breath. Royth mustered the strength to drive a knee into her stomach – and then, strike her face with an elbow.