Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

Planning their escape took priority in Von’s mind. He considered every possibility and setback as he walked down the hallway of the tavern. Their best chance would be to escape from the ship when they were already on water. That way they left no tracks, and the west coast would be within reach. Immobilizing Tarn was the issue Von had to carefully plan out. Once they were free, he would take his family to another continent. Yavi spoke several languages, so they would manage.

Von reached the lobby. A few patrons were seated at the tables eating their morning meals. The morning sun shone through the windows over the polished floors. He walked past them to the closed off room of the restaurant. Two raiders were guarding the entrance of the sleek black doors.

“Commander,” they nodded to him respectfully.

Each took a golden handle and opened the doors for him. He entered to find Tarn seated at a table in the back of the reserved room. Lieutenant Olsson stood at his side while he read the report in front of him. Candles in glass bowls flickered on the polished surfaces of the dark wooden tables all around. Deep red curtains hung open at the tall windows behind him.  They matched the rug enveloping the entire vast room.

Tarn continued reading the page in his hands as Von approached. He bowed, then stood with his hands behind his back to wait. He watched Tarn’s pale eyes quickly move back and forth as he read. Once done, a faint smile hovered on the edges of his mouth.

That was never a good sign.

Tarn leaned back in his chair. “You know, it nagged me that the death of the Maiden was too easy. Especially since she had only gathered four Guardians.”

Because there were two more yet to come. A familiar face and a creature with the strength of ten …

“The prophecy is still in play,” Tarn said. “She survived the fall.”

Von stiffened and he held his breath. “How…do you know that?”

“Dynalya is still quite reckless it seems. She had stopped by for a brief visit a fortnight ago.”

Von stared at him, not understanding at all how that was possible.

Tarn tapped a corner of the folded page against the table, a cool gleam in his eyes as he studied him. “You didn’t happen to see her in your travels?”

As a life servant, Von was obligated to answer honestly. But for the first time in years, a lie easily rolled off his tongue. “No.”

“She is in the mountains,” Tarn said, looking out the window to the north. He didn’t elaborate on how he knew that and Von didn’t ask. “I have confirmation that there is another Celestial territory in Hermon Ridge. They must have taken shelter there for the winter before embarking for Dwarf Shoe in the spring. To reach the west, they will have no choice but to cross Troll Bridge. Once the ice on the coast melts we will set sail. I’ll be sending you with a group to guard the western gorge of Troll Bridge. Ambush them and recover the Maiden.”

Von lowered his head to hide his grimace. He hoped Dyna was still in Hermon Ridge. If she tried to cross the Bridge, she would surely meet her demise. He had to find a way to warn her.

“I also seemed to have misplaced the journal.”

Von did well to appear surprised, although he knew exactly where it was. “She must have managed to take it.”

“Perhaps.” Tarn crossed one leg over the other, rather unconcerned. “What more do you know about the man from Xián Jīng?”

“Nothing more than what I have already shared. The man didn’t speak. He found the Sacred Scroll first, yet he stayed to attack us. He could have left with the prize and we wouldn’t have known.”

Tarn processed his words. “Perhaps the Scroll wasn’t his true target.”

Von’s gaze flickered at the ugly scar that ran from Tarn’s right brow across his nose and left end of his cheek to his lip. Could the Emperor be sending someone to finish the job?

But why now, after six years?

The double doors to the restaurant opened and a servant entered. He was dressed in the Corvis tavern gray uniform and he held a silver tray with Tarn’s morning meal. Von met his black eyes and a cold rage filled him.

Von swiftly grabbed a knife from within his coat and flung it at his face. The man dodged with a slight movement of his head and the knife pierced the door behind him. Olsson took out his large sword, standing in front of Tarn’s table protectively. Von ran towards the assassin. The man whisked the tray at him like a disk. Von slid on the floor to evade it and food fell everywhere. His knife swiped for the man but he darted and flipped over him towards Tarn. Olsson swung his sword for him. The assassin disarmed him with one kick and caught the sword in the air. He beat the hilt against Olsson’s skull and knocked him down.

Von ran at them, simultaneously taking out a knife in each hand and tossed the knives at the man. With one flick of his sword, the assassin knocked them out of the air. Tarn used the distraction to kick the legs out from under him and quickly disarmed him. His fingers come around the assassin’s throat like claws. Tarn’s icy eyes bore into the man with so much malice, Von had only ever seen it once when he killed the man responsible for his scar.

Lieutenant Olsson and Von came to stand behind the assassin, closing him off from all sides. They were ready to kill him if he so much as moved.

“So the Emperor has come for me again,” Tarn said, voice as wintry as the weather outside. “I will send him my regards along with your head in a box.”

But the man had a serene calm, no fear in the slightest. “I’m not here to kill you,” he said, his accent thick and tonal.

“I know an assassin when I see one.” Tarn stepped back.

Von grabbed the man by his hair to hold a knife to his throat. His hand itched to plunge it inside the man’s flesh.

“My name is Sai-chuen, and I’m no longer a contracted assassin. I was exiled some years ago.”

Tarn nodded at Olsson and he yanked down the man’s servant tunic, revealing a burned scar on the right side of his chest where the clan seal should be.

“Why are you here?”

“I have brought you a gift,” Sai-chuen said.

Tarn scoffed. “You mean you’re returning what you have stolen from me.”

Von searched the man’s clothing and pulled out the old scroll, handing it to Tarn. He took it then went to sit at the table again. It was yellow and old, crackling faintly as he unrolled it.

“Lieutenant,” Tarn said without looking up from the scroll. “Bring the slave woman.”

Von’s heart sank. He didn’t want Yavi in the same room as this man.

Olsson bowed and walked out.

“I first heard of your legend when I was a child,” the assassin said. “Your name was whispered among my people with fear. It was said you were a demon who took what he wished, even treasures no one was meant to ever find.”

Von stole a glance at Tarn. Was this man insinuating that he knew they’d stolen an artifact from the Emperor of Xián Jīng all those years ago? It had taken careful planning to infiltrate the palace and break into the hidden vault kept below ground. It had been full of gold and other riches, but Tarn had only taken one thing. He never told Von why they risked their lives for a small chest or what was inside of it.

Whatever it was, taking it had resulted in Tarn’s permanent disfigurement.

“The best assassin was sent after you.” Sai-chuen tipped back his head as he studied Tarn’s long scar. “Yet he failed, as did so many others. I knew such a man would be an honor to serve. But you are very difficult to find. Once I learned you desired the Sacred Scrolls, I went in search of them, so that I could present them to you and show you my worth.”

Tarn arctic gaze slid over to him. “You’re not worth the lives that you cost me.”

The statement was unexpected. Tarn didn’t care about the Raiders living or dying, but there was one life he did care about. Len was his protégé. His prized fighter. But she was trapped in her sleep and may never wake now.

“If I had known they were from your company, I would not have killed them,” Sai-chuen said indifferently.

“Lies,” Von growled.

“Forgive my mistake. Because of me, you now lack warriors. I will repay the loss by taking their place.”

Had that been his plan? To kill his way in Tarn’s services?

Von’s knife pressed into Sai-chuen’s neck, producing a trickle of blood. “You will die for what you did.”

The man’s black eyes glanced up at him, his slightly mouth malevolently curving. Either the man didn’t fear death, or he didn’t fear him.

The doors creaked open and Lieutenant entered with Yavi at his side. Her gaze shot around the room, clutching her white stationary box close to her chest. It always scared her to be called upon even though Tarn didn’t harm her. She feared him since the day he burned his slave mark on her back.

Yavi bowed, keeping her eyes low. “You have called for me, Master?”

Tarn beckoned her with a slight motion of his finger. “Translate this.” He slid the scroll across the table to her.

Yavi hesitated before lowering into the chair furthest away from him. She opened her case and took out a stack of paper and quill pen with a jar of ink. Then she carefully held the scroll in her hands as she read the faded scriptures. Her eyes froze midway down, widening. Yavi’s mouth parted in a shuttered breath and wide eyes met Von’s.

“Is it the one?” Tarn asked her.

Her throat bobbed and she nodded. “Yes, Master. It’s the Scroll of the Unending. But…”

“But what?” he asked sharply.

Yavi unrolled the scroll further, revealing the bottom of it had been removed. By the old fraying of its edges, it had been done a long time ago.

“I will tell you where the other piece is,” Sai-chuen said. “If you allow me to join you.”

A muscle in Tarn’s jaw twitched, his eyes like sharpened glaciers. “If you survive, then we will talk.”

Von thrust his fist into Sai-chuen’s face, throwing him back.

There was no time to wonder why Tarn didn’t order the man’s immediate torture instead. Initiations were only reserved for Raiders he considered employing. They had sixty seconds to survive Von’s knife without being killed. Well, he didn’t plan to let Sai-chuen live.

His knife caught the sunlight as it slashed for the man’s throat. Sai-chuen leaped back and kicked him in the face. Stunned by the strike, he dropped the knife, but Von kicked it across the restaurant before Sai-chuen could grab it. They rapidly moved back and forth, blocking each other’s punches. Sai-chuen caught Von’s wrist again and sharply hit his elbow upward, sending a searing pain up his arm. Then he delivered a blow to Von’s chest with two palms, throwing him back into a table.

Von came at Sai-chuen again, slashing for his vital points. Sai-chuen chopped his hand away then jumped to avoid his sweeping kick. Von brought his other knife around for his chest but it cut empty air as Sai-chuen dropped to his back on the floor then flipped back on one leg. He held it with perfect balance. He shot up straight in the air and kicked Von backwards. He stumbled against another table. He quickly straightened to face Sai-chuen, fighting to catch his breath. The kick had knocked the air out of his lungs.

Sai-chuen spun a knife in his fingers with a goading smile. Patting his belt, Von glanced down, stupidly leaving himself open. Sai-chuen slashed for his chest and Von thrust himself back with as much force as he could muster but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of the knife caught and cold ice sliced across his chest to the right end of his stomach. Yavi’s shriek echoed in the restaurant.

Von ignored the pain and swiftly captured Sai-chuen’s wrist and jabbed the shoulder wound Elon had given him. Sai-chuen hissed through his teeth. He hit Von’s hand away and they swiftly met with a knife at each other’s throats.

Tarn snapped his fingers, signaling the end of the initiation. “Well.” He drummed on the table in a contemplative rhythm. “That was interesting.”

Sai-chuen stepped back to bow. He was cool and collected as if he hadn’t been fighting for his life. Von was painfully aware of his aching body and the sweat rolling down his face. Blood was beginning to soak his shirt from the shallow cut. He picked up his fallen knives and bowed. His face burned. He had never been injured during an initiation.

Never.

Not even when he’d faced off with Elon.

“You’re lacking,” Tarn said.

“Forgive me.”

He waved it aside uncaringly. “In truth, I thought you might not survive when opposed by a Wu assassin.”

Von straightened at the reveal.

“I recognize that fighting style,” Tarn said, eyeing the assassin narrowly. “The Wu Clan dedicates their lives to become living weapons for the Emperor or whoever will pay handsomely. They never fail to kill their targets, or so they say. Am I not correct, Wu Sai-chuen?”

Von tensed and reached for another knife but Tarn slightly raised two fingers as a sign to stand down.  He nodded for Yavi to finish her translation of the scroll. She had been staring at Von’s blood dripping on the floor. The quill scratched against the page as she quickly worked.

Sai-chuen pressed his palms together and bowed. “I was trained well.”

“Why were you exiled?”

“My clan head was murdered by a rival clan. The Imperial Lord called for peace but I chose to avenge him. This disobedience brought dishonor to my kin.”

Tarn silently contemplated him. Von could see the idea of having such a lethal man in his pocket appealed to him. But he had an unsettling feeling about Sai-chuen.

“Where is the missing piece of the scroll?” Tarn asked.

“It’s in the hands of a very old fae. He was there when Jökull and Sunnëva ruled at the dawn of the First Age. And he was the one who stole the vital piece of that scroll.”

Von stilled, his mind reeling from the new information. “What’s his name?”

“He has no name,” Sai-chuen said. “He is only known as the Druid.”

The Druid…as in the one they randomly met in the woods one day and gave Tarn the Dragon Ring? None of that could have been coincidence.

Tarn must have realized it, too. He leaned in closer, interest gleaming in his cold eyes. “Where is he now?”

 “The Druid is another who is hard to find, but I’m very good at finding things.” A sly smile crossed Sai-chuen’s face.

Tarn studied him for a long minute until he finally said, “Lieutenant, provide this man with a Raider uniform.”NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.