The Shadowed Crown

Chapter 8

Col followed the orc tracks deep into the forest, his senses alert for any sign of danger. The trail led him to the ruins of an ancient castle, its stone walls crumbling, its towers reaching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. The air was thick with the stench of death.

He entered the ruins cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He found the orc bodies, their hulking forms sprawled across the stone floor. He examined the wounds, his eyes narrowing. The precise, clean cuts were the work of an assassin, someone skilled in the use of dual daggers.

He moved deeper into the ruins, finding two more orc bodies. These ones bore a different mark: a black coin, its surface engraved with a skull. The Dark Brotherhood.

Col's jaw tightened. The Dark Brotherhood was a ruthless organization, a collection of assassins and thieves who operated in the shadows. They were known for their efficiency and their willingness to work for anyone who could pay their price.

He followed the tracks, his eyes scanning the ground. He found two sets of footprints, one small and delicate, the other light and agile. They led out of the ruins, heading towards Oakhaven.

He followed the trail to Oakhaven, a small, unremarkable village. He searched the town, his eyes scanning every alleyway, every doorway. He found a pile of discarded clothes in a narrow alley, tattered remnants of fine fabric. They were Amelia's clothes, the ones she had been wearing when he first saw her. She had changed, or someone had made her change.

He continued his search, asking questions, seeking information. He entered a tavern, a dimly lit establishment filled with the sounds of boisterous conversation. He approached the barkeep, a stout, middle-aged woman with a sharp gaze.

"Have you seen a young girl," he asked, describing Amelia, "traveling through here?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, her gaze thoughtful. "I have," she said, her voice cautious. "She was with a young woman, dressed all in black. Dark armor, a hood that hid her face, dual daggers. Looked like trouble."

Col's interest piqued. "Can you describe her further?" he asked.

The woman thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. "Tall, slender, moved like a shadow. Had these… strange eyes. Like purple, but brighter. Beautiful, but deadly, you could feel it in the air around her. She wore fitted black armor, leather and dark cloth, designed for stealth and combat. She had a hooded cloak and dual daggers."

Col's mind raced. An assassin, an assassin had the princess he was searching for. Word about Amelia's runaway traveled fast already, it was a matter of time.

"Did they say where they were heading?" Col asked, his voice tense.

The woman thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. "I overheard them talking about the docks," she said. "They mentioned a place called... Blackwater Docks."

Col nodded, Blackwater Docks. It was a notorious port, a haven for smugglers and pirates, a place where anything could be bought or sold.

"Thank you," he said, tossing a few coins onto the counter. "You've been a great help."

He left the tavern, his mind racing. He mounted his horse and set off at a gallop, following the road that led south.

He rode hard, pushing his horse to its limits. The landscape blurred around him, a tapestry of green fields and dark forests. He knew Blackwater Docks was a lawless place, a den of thieves and cutthroats. If Amelia and the assassin were heading there, they were walking into danger.

Finally, the sprawling port of Blackwater Docks came into view. A chaotic scene unfolded before him: ships of all sizes bobbed in the harbor, their masts a forest against the horizon. The air was thick with the smell of salt, fish, and exotic spices. Sailors and merchants thronged the docks, their voices a cacophony of shouts and haggling.

Col scanned the harbor, his eyes searching for any sign of Amelia or the woman in black. He spotted a ship preparing to set sail, its sails already partially unfurled. It was the only ship leaving the harbor, they had to be on that one.

Col spurred his horse, weaving through the chaotic throngs of the Blackwater Docks. The ship, with its sails partially unfurled, was poised to leave, a dark silhouette against the burgeoning dawn. He had to act quickly. As he drew closer, something caught his eye – a flicker of movement in a narrow alleyway between two towering warehouses.

He slowed his horse, his gaze sharpening. In the shadows, he saw them: a woman dressed in black, her silhouette unmistakable, and a smaller figure, her features concealed by a simple hood. He recognized Amelia. They were engaged in a hushed conversation, Amelia nodding in agreement.

They split up, disappearing into the labyrinthine crowd. This was his chance. He dismounted, securing his horse to a nearby post, and followed Amelia, keeping a discreet distance. He had to grab her before anyone recognized her royal features.

He closed the distance, his hand reaching out, and seized her arm, pulling her away from the press of bodies. Amelia yelped in surprise, trying to break free.

"Let me go!" she protested, her voice laced with fear.

"Your father hired me to bring you back," Col said, his voice firm, ignoring her struggles.

"I'm not going back!" she yelled, her eyes flashing with defiance. She tried to twist out of his grip, but Col's hold was too strong.

He began to lead her towards his horse, when a sharp thwack echoed through the air. An arrow, aimed with deadly precision, had embedded itself in the wooden post where his horse was tied, mere inches from his face.

He turned, drawing his sword. Shae stood a short distance away, her handheld crossbow drawn, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Let her go," she commanded, her voice ringing out through the docks.

Amelia, seeing her chance, cried out, "Shae! Help me! He's trying to take me back!"

Col pulled Amelia behind him, shielding her with his body. "Don't trust her," he warned, his eyes fixed on Shae. "She's an assassin, from the Dark Brotherhood."

Amelia's face paled. She had heard whispers of the Dark Brotherhood, tales of ruthless killers who moved like shadows, their blades as cold as death. The old servants used to tell stories of them to scare the children into behaving.

Shae lowered her crossbow putting back in its holster, drawing her dual daggers, their blades gleaming in the dim light. "He's lying," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

The air crackled with tension. Col and Shae circled each other, their movements fluid and precise, like two predators preparing to strike. They moved with a silent, deadly grace, each anticipating the other's moves.

Col, with a swift flick of his wrist, cast a disarming charm, sending Shae's daggers flying a few feet away.

Shae smirked, her eyes glinting. "Oh, we know some magic, do we?" she said, her voice laced with amusement.

She raised her hands, her fingers moving in an intricate pattern, and unleashed a more powerful disarming spell, sending Col stumbling back a few steps dropping his sword.

Before he could regain his footing, Shae was upon him, her fists and feet a blur of motion. She rained down blows, her movements lightning-fast, her strikes precise and powerful. Col barely managed to block most of them, his arms aching from the force of her attacks.

They engaged in a brutal hand-to-hand combat, their movements a whirlwind of strikes and parries. Col, with his greater strength and size, tried to overpower Shae, but she was too quick, too agile. She moved like a phantom, her strikes landing with devastating accuracy.

They were so focused on their fight, so consumed by their mutual animosity, that they failed to notice the group of pirates that had crept up behind them. The pirates, seeing an opportunity, seized Amelia, dragging her towards their ship.

Col and Shae, locked in their deadly dance, were oblivious to the unfolding drama. Their fight was a symphony of steel and flesh, a whirlwind of motion and sound.

Suddenly, their movements froze. They both pulled hidden knives from their belts, the blades flashing in the dim light, and held them against each other's throats. For a moment, they stood there, their eyes locked, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. A strange spark, a flicker of something unexpected, passed between them.

Then, Amelia's voice, shrill with terror, snapped them back to reality. "Shae!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the docks.

They both turned, their eyes widening in shock. The pirates were dragging Amelia onto their ship, their voices rough and triumphant. The ship's sails were unfurling, ready to catch the wind.

Shae lowered her knife, her eyes blazing with fury. "f**k!" she snarled, her voice thick with rage. "Look what you f*****g did now!"

Col lowered his knife, his expression grim. "What I did?" he retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm. "They took her because we were too busy fighting each other!"

"It's your fault!" Shae accused, her eyes flashing. "If you hadn't shown up..."

"My fault?" Col scoffed. "You're the one who brought her here! To a pirate's den! You're the one who's responsible!"

Shae yelled, her voice rising. "You're the one who's trying to take her back to that bastard father of hers! I got her first she's MY bounty!"

"He's her father!" Col countered, his voice hard. "He hired me to bring her back, and that's what I'm going to do!"

"Over my dead body!" Shae hissed, her eyes filled with venom.

"Then so be it," Col said, his voice cold.

The ship, with Amelia onboard, was pulling away from the docks, its sails catching the wind. The pirates, their voices rough and triumphant, were celebrating their prize.

Col and Shae, their argument momentarily forgotten, watched the ship sail away, their faces grim. They knew they had to act quickly, if they wanted to get Amelia back.

Shae, her eyes narrowed, turned to Col, a sudden glint in her gaze. "Whoever gets to her first, claims her," she said, her voice cold and decisive.

Before Col could react, she lunged, her hidden knife flashing in the dim light. She plunged the blade into his thigh, the sharp steel slicing through his flesh. Col cried out in pain, stumbling back, his hand flying to the wound.

Shae smirked, her eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. "Consider that a head start," she said, her voice laced with mockery.

Without another word, she turned and vanished into the throng of sailors and merchants, her black silhouette disappearing into the chaotic crowd. Col, clutching his bleeding leg, watched her go, his eyes burning with anger and betrayal.

He cursed under his breath, his teeth gritted against the pain. He knew he couldn't let her get away. He had to find Amelia, and he had to stop Shae. But with his leg wounded, and the ship already sailing away, he knew he was at a distinct disadvantage.

He limped towards his horse, his eyes fixed on the departing ship. The chase was on, and he wouldn't stop until he had Amelia back, and Shae paid for her treachery. The docks, the sea, the land, it would all be a hunting ground.