Lingering Shadows-Chapter 12

Notes:

• so…really short chapter.

• But! I was halfway through the next chapter when I realized that this one was necessary. So, the next chapter will be tomorrow, or maybe even today.

• Um…is it really confusing? Just let me know if it’s unclear who’s talking when.

• Previous Chapter

  
  
  
  

  12- Deep Shadows

  
  

  A black shadow swept across the cobbled streets of Pennybridge. The night was cold and clear and black. Stars pricked brightly against the sky and the moon poured a pale glow over the world.

  A cloaked figure stopped behind a building, cocking his head to listen before he grabbed the strap that bound the sheath of arrows to his back and raced across the road, sliding down a sandy bank, and making his way down the beach to the docks. He slowed to a walk and tried to regulate his breathing and walk straight as he reached the dock. He stepped onto the boardwalk and began peering at the boats one by one, looking for the name of the one that was expecting him, and which could also be his getaway. The young man was very conflicted about coming to that dock. He had to come. He had to. But he came to report his own failure to assassinate the King of Anniera.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” the figure whirled around, drawing his dagger in a frantic flash at the sound of the voice. A deep, warm laugh sounded behind him, and it set the young man on edge because he knew who it was. This was the man who he had come to meet, the man who was expecting him.

  So deceptive, the young man thought, slowly lowering his dagger as he bowed to the tall, thin but strong man who was his superior. The taller man wore a huge, bare, ornate curved sword. 

  “Was your mission a success?” The taller man who also wore black asked, the warm, expectant tones of his thick accent veiling his deadly power over the shorter man in front of him. 

  “Well-I-uh-” the young man’s eyes flew wildly around searching for an escape, but then he straightened up, his frame taut with anger. Anger that he could be so afraid. Anger at himself for failing such an important mission. 

  “The mission was a failure sir.” He said, his voice steady.

  “Explain yourself,” the taller man said, a dangerous growl on the edge of his voice. 

  “I wounded the King. I would have had him on the second shot, but-but the Throne Warden saw me first.” 

  “You failed your mission,” the man with the sword said in a flat, cold tone. 

  “You FAILED your mission,” his voice raised to a shout and he stepped forward threateningly. The young man cringed back, then he tossed his head and faced the older man, stepping toward his superior with a stomp that shook the dock, their stares burning into each other's eyes. 

  “Yes, yes, I failed! But you can trust that I won’t fail again, sir,” the young man said defiantly. The taller man sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

  “He won’t be happy, you know. He won’t be happy at all. And he can’t pin any of it on me. It’s all on you.”

  “I know, but-”

  “BUT you aren’t getting another chance to finish your mission, so get in the boat. I’m taking you back. You still have a job to do somewhere else. This is your first mission, and I have NO IDEA why we trusted you of all people to do something so crucial. You may get another chance to prove yourself. So let’s go.” The tall man put his hand on his sword hilt and turned on his heel, stalking over the dock, jumping onto a tiny skiff without even looking back to see if the younger man was following him. 

  The younger man did follow, gripping his bow and shaking with self-directed anger, furious that he had failed. He hated that Throne Warden. He hated that King. And he needed to prove himself so badly. If he ever got another chance, he would not fail. He just hoped that the other people on the job would do better than he had.