Chapter One

‘So, the power from the Nine Wardens above was given to the men of Maralay in agreement that their will would be done. Thus, the Wardens below were made.’ 

1 

Being an assassin should have been simple. Move in, do the job, move out. It was the way it had always been before. Was the way it should have stayed. If only Caid had taken up the reigns of leadership. There was no use complaining now, not that it would stop Geth from spouting his opinions.  

“This is the stupidest mission I think we have ever had the pleasure of going on together.” Geth straddled a small fruit cart left out overnight after the market closed. One boot tip scraped across the cobblestone below, the other planted firmly amid a few rotten tomatoes.  

“I am not a fan of the mission, but the orders are clear and simple.” Caid did not take the words from the warden’s leader lightly. They cascaded around inside his thoughts like tidal waves crashing onto the sand. Every time he heard the words, little grains of his hope things could stay the same faded with the receding water.  

 “Why did you agree to it? I mean, you could have thrown some weight around, made him understand it was against the best interest of the group.” Geth’s attention was not focused on Caid. He watched the flickering lamp above them.  

Standing out in the open made Caid’s skin crawl. Being an assassin was about staying hidden. The shadows were supposed to be a friend.  

“Make it bloody, gory, and loud.” Those were the words of Rawn. They were words that made no sense in normal times, but these were no longer normal times.  

Before Caid could answer, not that he had a good reasoning, the peeling of bells and the clanking of hooves interrupted them.  

“Sounds like go time,” Geth said. His boot squished against the rotted pulp, swung around, and landed firmly on the ground beside Caid.  

Normally the sound would have made Caid wince. They were supposed to be loud, though. The wardens had never wanted fame, fortune, or glory. Caid still did not want those things, but here he was, hefting his sword to the heavens for the Nine to see.  

“Creft will be in the middle carriage,” Caid scanned the area. Simple buildings, nothing special.  

Somewhere off in the darkness were two more wardens. Maddog and Pog were assigned the back carriages. Geth would be the distraction up front. Caid would do the dirty work. Loud, gory, and known.  

The first carriage came into view under the pale liquid lights above. The brown top had Creft’s sigil firmly planted on the top. Inside the first two carriages would the seers personal law enforcement, better known as the envoy.  

Geth slapped Caid on the shoulder and leaped out into the middle of the roadway. The horses let out cries of panic and tried to veer to the side. The driver pulled the reins tight, stopping them before they plowed Geth over.  

“Hello.” With a goofy wave, Geth played the part of a drunk who had gotten lost on his way home.  

The driver waved for him to move aside. Caid stayed put, waiting for his opportunity to move without being seen. Geth waved to the driver again.  

“Get out of the way!” The envoy were known for a lot of things, but patience was not one of them.  

“I do not think I will be doing that.” A ring of metal being pulled from a sheath filled the night air.  

The driver’s eyes widened as the seemingly drunk man waved a vicious looking sword above his head.  

“What in the name of the Nine above are you doing?” The driver eased the reigns to the carriage floor. With his hands free, he pulled his own set of daggers from his waist. “You can move out of the way, or I can move you.”  

The driver slid to the side and stepped down onto the railing on the side of his seat. Hesitating to see if the threat worked, he waited for Geth’s next move.  

“I do not think you can,” Geth charged forward.  

The carriage doors flew open. Three more envoys piled out into the night. Geth would have no issues taking care of four men. The second cart emptied a moment later. In all, eight sword bearing men charged Geth at once. A smart man would have run, but Geth stayed put.  

Caid did not have time to watch. Geth’s distraction would need to be acted upon. Once Caid made it to the middle carriage, Maddog and Pog would be knocking upon the doors of the back two carriages. Caid darted into the light. Four large steps brought him to the mahogany door of Creft’s cabin. The feel of the wood was cool against his fingers as Caid trailed down to the handle. His heart thumped in his chest. There was no fear. Caid had done this a hundred times. Never so brazenly, but killing a man was nothing new.  

The brass of the door handle was thick and smooth. With a jerk, Caid pulled it hard, throwing open the door. What he expected to see were the youthful eyes of Seer Creft staring back at him. He had hoped to shock him, catch him off guard. Then he could pull him out by the ribbon-tied hair and make the job bloody. Those were not the eyes staring back at him, however.  

A set of cold, hard eyes looked Caid up and down. Eyes Caid knew quite well. Envoy Creaton pushed Caid in the chest with both palms. In his surprise, Caid stumbled backward. His sword came easily from his hip. This would be louder than Caid expected.  

The searing hot pain in Caid’s side took him to a knee. The blood tricking down his hip was warm. No one should have been behind him. Looking toward the front of the procession, Caid saw Geth still fighting with those envoys who still lived. Toward the back, things were too dark to make out, but there was an alarming lack of noise.  

Caid placed his hand to his side and a white light emitted from his palm. The power of the Nine Wardens above gave the assassins an advantage. It could not stop death, but it would keep Caid alive from a simple wound such as this.  

Turning to his back, Caid saw two envoys with their steel pointed at his face. They looked like they were about to give demands, but Caid did not care about what they wanted. He rolled forward, not waiting for them to attack a second time. With both hands to his side, Caid shot white beams again from his hands. This time they were not for healing. The two men dropped like sacks of potatoes to the ground. There was no need to check on them to know they were dead.  

Caid turned back toward the carriage, still hoping beyond hope to find Creft inside. Creaton had shut the door and pulled the small curtain hanging over the window. With a shake of his head, Creaton waved the driver forward. Caid did not give chase, there was no point. Creaton had been alone in the cabin. Something had gone wrong. The envoy had known the wardens were coming.  

The noise of fighting had ceased from where Caid had left Geth. The flickering light had also gone out above him, leaving him in the dark. Caid started his way back toward his friend, hoping they could make sense of this failure together.  

A few steps forward and Caid felt the suction of blood against his boots. Geth had killed at least a few of the men. Caid bent to inspect the envoy’s pockets. There was nothing inside beyond his badge, Caid left it sitting on the man’s chest. He had no use for it. Caid stood and continued forward.  

“Geth, where are you?” The dead bodies of the law would lead to back up coming shortly. Caid did not plan to be around when it arrived. He was to make Creft’s death loud, but he had missed his opportunity. Now was not the time to go to war with the envoy. Caid felt more blood under his boots. “How many of them did you kill?” Caid yelled for Geth, but nothing came back in the form of a reply.  

A few more steps and Caid almost tripped over another body. Reaching down, he paused. The night was gloomy, but the light of the moon shone just bright enough to make out the features on the back of the corpse’s head.  

“No, no, no…” Caid fell to his knees, pulling the body over to its back. Staring lifelessly back at him were the eyes of Geth ‘the still-heart’ who was now very fitting for his name. “Geth, wake up. What are you doing?”  

No reply. There would never be another reply. Geth had always wanted to be famous, but being the first warden to ever die in combat had not been the way he wanted to achieve it. Caid shook his friend’s shoulders, trying to will him back to the land of the living.  

More footsteps came from behind. Caid dropped Geth’s body and whirled around, hopping to his feet. The shadows played against the features of the man stepping forward, but Caid recognized him.  

“Where did you go?”  

Maddog looked clean and relaxed. There was not a speck of blood or sweat on him. It looked like he had just walked from the showers with a pressed robe.  

“Things went wrong. Pog is dead.” Maddog said the words so calmly Caid thought he had heard them wrong, but Maddog nodded his head to confirm. “We should get out of here.”  

Maddog pointed with his chin toward Geth’s body. Caid turned back around. There was a gaping hole in the center of Geth’s chest. It made no sense. Geth could have easily killed eight envoys on his own. Something had gone wrong for sure.  

“He dead?” Maddog asked, pulling Caid back to reality.  

Caid swallowed hard but did not answer. He was dead, it was obvious, but Caid did not spit the venom toward Maddog. Crouching down, Caid placed his hands under Geth’s shoulders and back, hoisting him up from the ground. Cradled like a child being carried to bed, Caid followed behind Maddog as they made for the warden’s compound. The backup would be here soon.