Assassin's Promise

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The setting sun tinted the scattering of clouds orange and pink and gave the blue sky a purple smear along the horizon.

While my father readied the fire on his grill alongside a large maple tree, I helped my mother fillet the fish. The blades we used were long, thin, and sharp. Father liked the skin on his fish, so mother would scale a few for him. The ones for us, we skinned.

“Cut the head off.” Mother pointed.

“Just below the gills,” I said. “I remember.”

I went to work on the smaller fish, placing my hand on top of the knife, pressed down, and drew the blade across the neck. Holding the fish by the tail, I removed the skin cutting toward where the head had been and did my best not to cut away too much meat.

“You’re getting quite good at that.” She wiped scales, and guts from her blade along her apron before setting the knife down on the block of wood.

“Thank you.” I couldn’t mask my smile. Between my father’s legendary pig roasts, and anything my mother made, I felt like one of the luckiest kids in Grey Ashland.

“Riders.” Father was by the fire, stood with hands on his hips, and stared north.

A cloud of dust rose in the distance. I could make out men on horseback, but not how many rode toward us.

“Take the boy inside,” he said.

Mother didn’t question his command. She yanked away my knife and took my hand.

“Father?”

“Go with your mother.” He shooed me away with a wave of his hand.

“Come with me.” Mother led the way into the house. Her voice trembled. “Go to your room.”

My heart raced. It felt like time moved in slow motion. I could smell the smoke from the grill. The day’s catch was forgotten, but that didn’t stop my stomach from growling. I climbed onto my bed. The straw-stuffed mattress sank under my weight. Sitting with my back against the log wall, arms wrapped around my legs, knees drawn to my chest, I shivered. I watched helplessly as my mother produced a long, thin sword from behind a dresser.

She looked at me, brow furrowed. “Don’t come out of the house. No matter what you hear, you stay inside. Understand?”

I nodded.

“Say it!”

“I understand.” I never knew a sword was stashed behind the dresser. I couldn’t recall my father having a weapon. The tools used on the land, and with the animals would have been considered dangerous instruments, but the idea of a sword inside the house caught me off guard.

Mother left the house, closing the door behind her. My eyes remained riveted on the handle.

Somehow, I managed to find the courage to climb off the bed. I stayed close to the wall and slid over to the window. I parted the drapes with the back of my hand. If my father caught me spying, he’d belt my butt for sure. I’d have deserved it, too. It seemed worth the risk at this point. Whatever was about to happen outside had both of my parents unnerved.

The dust cloud grew as the riders closed the distance. There were five men, as best I could tell. I could identify the men. They wore chainmail over leather jerkins. On the black vestment was the king’s sigil in red. They were the Watch.

It felt like a storm was headed right for us. My father stood in front of my mother with the sword in his hand, its tip pointed toward the ground.

He said something to my mother, who shook her head. My father turned away from the riders and said something else. Maybe he repeated himself. This time, she took steps backward, away from him. He pointed at the house.

Mother backed out of view. My eyes went back to the door. The handle moved. I dashed for the bed.

“Were you at the window, Blodwyn?”

I spun around on the mattress but didn’t answer. Instead, I jumped off the bed and ran for her. Wrapping my arms around my mother’s waist, I said, “What do they want?”

“They must be here to talk with your father,” she said.

“About what? What could the Watch want with father?” The stories of the king’s special knights frightened him. He knew their reputation. The Watch acted as judge and executioner on behalf of the king, purging Grey Ashland of witchcraft, and magic.

“I’m not sure.” She combed her fingers through my hair. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

Even though I wasn’t ten yet, I knew she was lying. I couldn’t recall a single time my parents had lied to me. She wanted to calm me, but must not have realized the lie made everything worse.

The horse hooves pounded the ground. It sounded like a thunderstorm.

My mother knelt down and held my head between her hands. “Go out the back way and find a place to hide in the barn. You stay there until I come for you.”

“I want to stay,” I insisted.

Her hands dropped to my shoulders. She shook me. My eyes bounced back and forth inside the sockets. “Listen to me. Wyn, listen!”

I knew I was crying. The tears clouded over my vision.

“Hide inside that barn until I come and find you. Now, go!”

I lurched forward and hugged her. “I’m afraid.”

This time her hands cupped my face and calloused skin from hard work felt as soft as feathers. Her thumb wiped a rolling tear from under my eye. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid of anything. When that happens, you face that fear, Wyn. You face it.”

She spoke softly. I didn’t like the way her eyes moved over every inch of my face.

“Go,” she said. “Please, go.”

I heard my father raise his voice. “I have done nothing of the sort! How dare you suggest such a thing!”

There was no mistaking the sound of steel clashing against steel. It was followed by a moment of silence. I held my breath. My eyes were wide and locked on my mother. She was motionless, as well.

The silence was shattered by the scariest sound I’d ever heard in my life: my father screaming.

“Run,” my mother said. Panting, she spun me around and pushed me at the back door. “Run, Wyn!”

My hands went out in front of me. I caught the wall, instead of falling, and just made it to the back door as the front one burst open.