The Mistake: Killing The King: Book 1 Read online

  The Mistake

  Killing The King: Book 1

  Allie Baker

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  The Mistake:

  Natasha crouched on a large tree branch, her eyes focused on the city lights in the distance. The carriage hadn’t left yet, by the look of things. Still, there was no point in taking unnecessary chances, things can go wrong in an instant in the assassin business, which meant one second stood between you and death.

  The trees were already shifting again, their roots inching across the ground as they repositioned. If this kept up, even carriages wouldn’t fit through the bushes anymore. According to the mages, the effects should fade over time, but they rarely entered the forest and couldn’t see the rampant loose magic that still effected the land. But Natasha lived in the trees and knew that the magician’s residue wouldn’t fade anytime soon. It could be centuries before anyone could traverse the forest in any kind of automated vehicle again.

  Electronics didn’t survive long in the forest, their signals blocked or their metal shells snatched by a stray tree branch and crushed. The trees didn’t seem to like the signals, just as they disliked fires.

  If you value your life, you don’t set fires in the woods, and yet every noble opted to light their night travels. Maybe they felt safer that way, like they would see something coming long before it struck. The fire drew more attention than an unlit carriage would, but they seemed to feel that light kept them alive. When it came to the forest, light caused more problems than it fixed.

  “See anything?” Jarrod asked from his position on the ground.

  “Not yet,” she said, “but don’t let your guard down. It’s possible that this noble has half a brain, we shouldn’t take any chances. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

  She dropped down from the branch and set to rigging the snapper. The trees complained as she forced their roots to unfurl, but she ignored them. They viewed her as a part of the forest now, a leaf sister of sorts, and they would do as she asked even if they didn’t like it.

  It took a long time for her to reach that status, trees aren’t very trusting, but when she proved that she could douse fires better than any tree, they begrudgingly allowed her in. When she had first started out, setting a snapper took a great deal more coaxing.

  She patted the tree in thanks and headed back across the road.

  “Where are you going to be?” she asked Jarrod.

  “Hidden in the branches ready to back you up if something goes wrong,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  He had been complaining for days about this mission.

  “I don’t know why you insist on keeping me on the side line,” he said, “I’m ready. Let me complete this kill. I can do it.”

  “You’re not ready.”

  Why did he have to be in such a rush? How did he not understand that once you take a life, there’s no going back?

  Her first kill was one of necessity, to protect her own life. She didn’t have a choice. And that spilt blood changed her, she craved the power one could find in the taking of life. Her essence cried out for more and her heart ached for that sense of complete freedom, but her soul knew better, cautioning her from acting rashly.

  No one can hurt you after their dead, and for one moment you had absolute power. There’s no doubt, and no fear, just energy. Killing made her feel like a god.

  But the good feelings only last so long before reality sets back in. You might be free of your human master, but you’re a slave to the blood lust. The more you kill, the stronger the desire for blood becomes.

  Maldov knew that better than anyone.

  “Assassination is about planning,” she continued, “if you plan for every eventuality, than the job can be completed.”

  “And here I thought assassination involved killing,” Jarrod said, “but I guess that’s my mistake.”

  “The kill is just one step. You can’t skip the planning.”

  “Oh, come on Natasha. I’ve been studying under you for months. I know every trick, I’ve learned how to use every weapon. Aside from you, no one can best me in a fight or sneak up without me noticing. I’m ready, I have been for a while, but still you refuse to let me complete a mission.”

  “No one is ready to kill,” she said, “least of all you. You kill when I say, and not before.”

  Jarrod scoffed and crossed his arms.

  What a fool. No one deserves to be a slave to death, but here he was practically begging for it. Why would anyone be so willing to mortgage their soul for luxury?

  “You should take as much time as possible to prepare,” she said, “it won’t be long before Maldov expect you to take on missions, just be grateful that hasn’t happened yet. A lot can go wrong and neither of us should take unnecessary risks. You’ll have more than enough blood on your hands soon enough.”

  “You act as if I’m a child,” Jarrod said, his face still angry, “I have a mind of my own you know. I know how to handle myself in the field and I’m tired of hanging back when I should be in the thick of the action.”

  “We have time, so be patient. I know what I’m doing and if I’m going to put my life in your hands, I’m damn well going to make sure you’re ready to protect it first. We’re talking about more than pride here, we’re talking about life and death.”

  “And I can do it.”

  Natasha sighed. So gung hoe and so unaware, it’s a dangerous mix. What could she possibly say that would straighten him out? It might be easier if her apprentice were female, it’s easier to instill the fear of failure into a woman. Women are cautious by nature and consider the options when making decisions. Women are less likely to make a mistake due to haste.

  If she had anything to say about it, all assassins would be female, purely because women must think outside the box in order to win a fight. But of course, Maldov would never approve. He probably didn’t like that she was female, but he also couldn’t deny her value. If he got the chance, Maldov would kill her without a second thought, but he wouldn’t do anything that reckless until he found a suitable replacement. Hence Jarrod.

  Still, the chance remained that he might not reach her level of skill. He could keep up well enough but his lack of focus often caused problems. He never saw the minute details that could provide vital clues about the targets.

  Maldov believed than men were the superior fighters, but all men seem to understand is blunt force.

  She considered that for a moment. Blunt force, it wouldn’t resolve the issue but it might stall Jarrod for a bit longer.

  She punched him in the nose.

  Tears instantly welled in his eyes and blood poured over his lips. Not a pretty sight by any means, but if that’s what it took to get through to him, then she would deal with the gore.

  “What the hell Natasha?” he said, gagging a bit on the blood as it pooled in his throat.

  “Question me again and I’ll do a whole lot worse than that.
”

  “I’m not allowed to state my opinions now?”

  “No, not when it comes to assignment.”

  Jarrod spat blood on the ground and groaned as more oozed from his nose. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, tore two large strips off, and stuffed them up his nose. Good thing he wore black, otherwise the blood marks would stain his shirt.

  He bent his head back to ease the flow and coughed as the blood trickled down his throat again. Bloody noses cause large messes even when the damage is insignificant, it’s the perfect dissuasion.

  “Did you really have to break my nose?” Jarrod asked, his hand thoroughly coated in blood.

  “I didn’t break it,” she said, “just bent it a little. You’ll be fine in a couple of minutes.”

  “I still don’t get it. What did you think hitting me was going to accomplish?”

  “You weren’t listening. I thought a little blood might help the message sink in. And besides, now you have blood on your hands.”

  She could see Jarrod roll his eyes, even though his eyes were tilted toward the sky.

  “Women,” he said.

  “Don’t make me punch you again.”

  Jarrod held up his hands in surrender and tested to see if the blood had stopped. Then he removed the wads of cloth and scavenged for some herbs to help numb the pain. At least he remembered enough to do that, when she had first introduced the concept he nearly poisoned himself instead.

  Lack of focus, it might get him killed one of these days. She had considered offing him once or twice herself in a fit of annoyance but she never gave in to the impulse. She might be a monster, but that didn’t mean she had to act like one.

  “At risk of further damage to my face, I still think I can-“

  Natasha held up her hand for silence.

  There, a light flickering through the trees. The carriage would be here any minute. She grabbed Jarrod by the collar and pulled him close.

  “I’m only going to say this once more and if you disobey me I swear to god that I will cut off your balls while you sleep. You will not interfere with this kill, you’re here as back up only.”

  She shoved him away, “so get in position before the target arrives.”

  Jarrod gave her a condescending smirk but disappeared into the forest without a word. She did the same, returning to her perch in the tree.

  Horses hooves drummed along the path as the coach drew closer, ushering her toward his doom. But as the carriage drew near, the light shone too brightly through the trees. Nobles were strange creatures, but they rarely traveled with this much light. It was as if whoever rode inside didn’t want anybody to miss their passage through the forest.

  A good way to end up being squashed by a tree, or to lure a potential threat into a trap. Did they know that she was lying in wait? But that was impossible, she never left clues and only two other people knew about it, Maldov and Jarrod. Neither of them would tell.

  But she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

  Dust flew into the air as the horses rounded the turn and she caught her first glimpse of the traveling party. A front guard and a solid gold carriage, but no rear guard. Anyone who rode in a solid gold carriage would certainly have enough money to pay for a rear guard, so why didn’t they have one?

  She needed to get a look at the passenger to know for sure, but given their actions, there was no way the target sat inside. It had to be a trap. She sighed and pulled out her spy glass, Maldov would be furious.

  A young woman, dressed in rags, sat inside. Her eyes were angry and focused but even through the spy glass, Natasha could see her shaking. No one who looked so poor would be riding in a gold carriage, and they wouldn’t be angry about either. She retracted the spy glass and cupped a hand to her lips to signal Jarrod, but before she could do anything the snapper closed around the coach and Jarrod dropped down on top of it.

  What did he think he was doing?

  “Damn it Jarrod,” she muttered, shoving the glass back in place.

  She should have known Jarrod would do something like this. He had been complaining too much for her to expect otherwise, but why did it have to be tonight, the one night when it truly mattered. The guards were shaken up and dizzy but they would be on him in a few seconds, if not sooner. She wouldn’t put anything past these travelers, there was some peculiar about them.

  Jarrod wouldn’t survive this one on his own, they needed to get out of here before the occupant and her guards caught on.

  She swung from the branch and hurtled onto the carriage, landing next to Jarrod before he got the chance to open the doors.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “My job,” he said.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, this job was practically set up to be my first mission.”

  “’Set up’ being the operative word.”

  Jarrod shook his head in a patronizing way and ripped the carriage door open. He didn’t believe her, and he now he would get them both in trouble. She should just skip out now and leave Jarrod to his fate, but she couldn’t just let him die. The woman screamed from inside.

  Damn it, why did he have to be so obstinate?

  She slipped into the carriage behind him.

  “Don’t touch her,” Natasha said, pulling Jarrod back.

  “This is my kill.

  “She’s not the target, you’ll be killing an innocent woman. You don’t want that on your conscience.”

  “Get out of my way, I won’t let you ruin this.”

  He shoved her into the wall and grabbed one of her diamond edged knives. He turned back toward the woman, but she stood ready, a large knife firmly clasped in her own hand. They sent an assassin, she should have seen this coming. Why else would they put someone in the carriage at all?

  The woman attacked Jarrod, her movements like flashes of lightning. Jarrod didn’t have time to respond to each one but he managed to keep on breathing.

  “Do something useful,” Natasha shouted, before jumping into action herself.

  Two on one, the woman didn’t expect that and she fell back. Natasha took advantage of the space and managed to get behind the woman and trap her arms.

  She held the woman steady and looked toward Jarrod. His arm swung in a wide arc and as he completed the move, the blade sliced through the woman’s neck. Her body went limp but blood sprayed from the wound, dousing the carriage and the two remaining occupants. The knife had cut too deep, exposing the bone, but at least the immediate threat was gone.

  “Nice work,” Natasha said, wiping the blood from her face.

  He did it, made a kill, and he did it well. Perhaps she underestimated him. But when she looked up, she saw Jarrod’s terrified expression.

  His body started to shake and he sank toward the floor. She inwardly groaned and shoved Jarrod out the opposite door. He would be next to useless now but they still had to escape before the guards caught on.

  Why couldn’t he wait to fall apart until they were out of danger? It’s not like the woman had been entirely without fault. But she knew he couldn’t help it, at least outside he could make his way to shelter, maybe escape the attention of the guards. She would have to clean up on her own if they both wanted to make it out.

  She watched for a moment as Jarrod scrambled away but just as she readied to jump out herself, someone grabbed her by the hair.

  She screamed in pain and fought to pull herself free but the grip was too strong and in seconds she found herself hurtling through the air. The trees grew uncomfortably close and she braced herself for a hard landing, but the forest shuffled again, creating a nice pocket for her.

  It wasn’t a soft landing by any means, but she managed to stand up again.

  The guards stormed toward her, large swords in each hand. She forced herself up and pulled a large sax knife from her belt and held it at the ready. The guards scoffed at its size but they knew better than to attack without caution. They had known she would
be here, and that meant they knew what she could do with a blade.

  She held back as well. She didn’t know what these men were capable of, for all she knew they could be assassins as well. They had certainly recovered faster than the average guard, and the double blades signaled ‘danger’ as well. The only men she knew who used two blades, were excellent fighters and not to be trifled with.

  “You should lay down your weapons,” she said, “or your boys are liable to get hurt.”

  Neither responded, their faces stoic. Killers, Jarrod really messed things up tonight.

  “Well come on then,” she said, “we don’t have all night.”

  Nothing, damn these men were like granite.

  She opted for a test and whipped one of her diamond blades at the one on the right. He knocked it away with a flick of his blade, but evidently the attack was enough for the second because he attacked.

  His swords flicked through the air like helicopter blades, threatening to cut off her appendages, but she knew better than to face such an attack head on. She dashed to the side and launched herself up into the trees.

  The man turned toward her, his blades still flashing but she held the advantage now, the trees were on her side. She placed on hand on the branch and willed the tree to move its root. Once the man’s foot was securely fastened, she flipped through the air, using another branch as fulcrum, and landed on the man’s back with her feat.

  The man grunted and hit the ground. One attack wouldn’t be enough, but at least this gave her a few moments to focus on the second attacker.

  He propelled toward her as well, his movements even smoother than the last. When the tree root came up to catch him as well, he side stepped it and kept on coming. A blade master, no doubt about it.

  She lunged forward, drawing the man’s blades in, before rolling to the side. One blade smacked into the dirt as she darted in with her sax knife. She cut into the man’s arm before ducking away once again.

  Droplets of blood fell from the man’s arm, but he didn’t even look down, his eyes refocusing on her.