Chapter 1
Darkness encompassed the halls of the palace. Shadows lurked around every corner. Cobwebs crept in the edges of the grand windows. A black widow hung by her webs as a foolish fly fell for her trap once again. It struggled and twitched its wings hopelessly. She crawled over the helpless creature and twirled it around in the web. The widow thirsted for blood and sank her fangs into the unfortunate fly. She ended its misery and filled her belly with the warm redness oozing from her dinner. The widow drank to her heart’s content and climbed to the corner of her web able to sleep on a full belly.
A nest of crows rested in the crevasses of the stone walls. They found the perfect home after the last siege that the wall succumbed to. Scars ran through the castle still not fully recovered. One of the crows left his family to venture into the castle grounds for a rat. He found a nice perch near the private chambers of the lord. The window creaked open allowing cool air to drift into the room and mix with the heat from the fire crackling in the hearth at the other end. A few breadcrumbs sat on the small table inside.
Dong! The clock struck midnight as a little furry critter peeped out of its hole. Its pink nose twitched while gathering the scents nearby. Smoke infiltrated the nose first. Following the smoke sneaked in the odor of the human slumbering. Last, the bread’s sweet and yeasty aroma lured the critter out of its hole. The mouse skittered across the cold stone floor. Its pink tail whipped behind it as if one quietly tapped the floor. The mouse climbed up on the table and was pleased to find the perfect-sized breadcrumbs. It glanced this way and that before stuffing its cheeks with bread. The mouse savored the sweet and butter food melting in its mouth. After it stuffed its cheek with a plentiful number of crumbs, the little critter skittered down the marble table. Once the mouse touched the cold stone floor, the crow dove into the room and swooped down to grab it with his talons.
The duke slumbering on the bed jumped from the sound of a thud. He peered over at the window and found a crow on the floor with the window gaping open. The duke of the castle crawled out of bed and ran after the bird. It croaked and fled out into the dark night leaving the stone floors with slick black feathers. The duke brushed the feathers in the corner. He slammed the window shut. Those crows needed to go. They only caused trouble and brought hysteria to all those that entered his castle. Death was to soon partake in its plunder. The duke laughed at his guests. They were simply pests that needed to be removed. Though he laughed and knew it was foolish to give into hysteria, a pang of dread swept over him.
Something stirred in the air tonight. He hated the doom that hung in his heart. The duke strode over to the fireplace. He watched the fire consume the logs added before he fell asleep. A few logs were still stacked from earlier. He fed the fire and imagined the flames melting away his fear. The more he imagined the flames consuming his fear like the logs the more he remembered to breathe and relax. This night was an ordinary night as all that had come before tonight. The duke stepped away from the fire and cracked open the door. Snoring echoed from out in the hall. Both guards slept soundly against the walls.
“Up!” the duke yelled, and guards sprang to their feet.
“Yes, my lord?” one of the guards asked.
“If I find you sleeping out here again, you will be executed,” he threatened.
“Yes, your grace,” the guards stood up straight and held out their long bronze lances in front of them.
Seeing the guards holding tightly to the bronze lances, the duke crawled back into the room. He allowed the fire to warm him once more and returned to his bed. The mattresses sank beneath him. He pulled the thick blankets and furs over him. Everything was as it should be. The guards stood outside the bedroom. A fire crackled in the hearth. He was knee-deep in blankets. A smile slipped on his face. The duke laughed. What had he to fear? The warmth and security wrapped around him pulled him back into the world of dreams.
A cloaked figure reached the outer walls of the castle as the clock struck one. The cloaked figure stepped off of the saddle of his horse and tied his horse to the last tree sticking out of the forest hiding the castle from invaders. He opened the saddle bag and pulled out his dagger along with a rope. Kieran tied the rope around his waist, slid the blade under his cloak, and walked toward the slick stone walls surrounding the castle grounds. He removed the black wool gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. Kieran licked the tips of his fingers and plastered his hands on the small spacing between the stones. He freed his mind of all thoughts and only focused on the intricate movements of climbing the wall.
First, the fingers must be sticky to glue to the cracks in the stones. Second, his feet needed to be planted on either side of his hands. They provided support and leverage for the upper body. Third, he forced himself to breathe. Slow and deep breaths lowered his heart rate and relaxed the tense muscles. He finished the list and played it over again. Kieran slid his fingers up. He planted his feet. He remembered to breathe. Adrenaline was soon coursing through his veins. It fed into the excitement and thrill that came with fiddling with death. Kieran relished the thrill and pushed him to keep going. His arms ached by the time he reached the top of the wall and swung over the ledge. He uncoiled the rope and tied it around the hedge. Kieran tightly grabbed the rope and shimmied his way down to the castle grounds.
Two guards sat below his feet. Kieran slipped off the wall and gently landed on the cobblestone in between the two. He glanced at the guards but was pleased with the loud snoring drifting from where they slept. Kieran blended in with the shadows that befell from the high walls and crept across the cobblestone toward the entrance of the castle. He ducked behind the edge of the long arch and spotted three guards standing outside the heavy bronze gates. They paced back and forth and switched positions. The three returned to the gates and held out long bronze lances in front of them. Kieran cursed silently to himself and backed away from the arch. He turned back the way he came but continued past the rope and the two guards. Kieran stopped below the tall tower where the duke slept and eyed the small window and ledge that peeked out of the castle.
After licking his fingers, he began the climb. Kieran wrapped his arms around the stones and pulled up with his feet. He stopped once in a while to listen to the sounds of the night. No clanging shoes echoed from the other end of the castle. Kieran returned his attention to climbing. He reached the small ledge and pulled up the rest of his body with him. A small breeze brushed against him, and he shivered from the cool air. He tested the window, and it budged open. The window creaked ever so slightly as he crawled inside.
The duke slumbered comfortably on the king-size bed in the middle of the room. He even had a pleasant smile plastered on his fat lips. It was a smile that declared security. Who could possibly sneak into a strongly fortified fortress such as this one built entirely to protect those inside from the evils lurking outside in the world? Oh, how wrong the duke was? How silly to trust in something so easily shattered? A fool was what he was. Kieran pulled up his cloak and removed the blade hidden underneath. He peered at his reflection in the glimmering dagger. The duke rolled to his side and pulled the blankets tightly around him. Kieran waited for him to settle back down before moving over to his bedside. He watched the duke’s chest rise and fall in a calm steady repetition. His blade felt like a hundred tons. He calmed his mind and numbed all thoughts. Kieran grabbed the hilt of his dagger and thrust it into the heart of his victim. Before his victim had the chance to scream, he grabbed the blankets and coiled them around the duke. The duke fought under the thick furs and blankets. Dread and despair entrapped him, and the duke soon succumbed to the blade in his heart. Then, everything went still.
Kieran unwrapped the furs and removed the dagger. He wiped the fresh blood with his cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. The assassin left the bedside and crept over to the door. He peaked through the keyhole. The two guards outside the bedroom dozed against the wall. His sleeping tea was impossible to resist. He slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door. Kieran tiptoed passed the guards and wandered down the hall. At the end of the hall were some stairs. He went down the stairs and found a side door that led out into the garden.
Two stone eyes greeted him. They were cold and lifeless as the duke dead in his bedroom. Long locks strung around her head. Snakeheads rested at the tips coiled together to the tails of the other strands of hair. Her lips pressed tightly together. She possessed the beauty of a goddess. He studied the cold eyes further. Under the coldness crept envy and hatred. She thirsts for revenge. A few letters were craved below her left eye. Medusa. What story lay behind the snake-haired girl full of envy placed in the garden of the small castle? A misfortune? A curse perhaps?
The assassin left the garden and found his way through the castle grounds. He returned to the front of the castle where the rope still hung. Kieran wrapped his arms around the rope and climbed up the outer walls. He missed one of the cracks and slammed into the stones. Upon impact, the black mittens in his pocket fell out and landed on the guards. The two jumped and peered up at him. Kieran cursed under his breath and hoisted himself onto the ledge near the hedge that held him. He quickly pulled up the rope and tossed it to the other side. Kieran slid down the wall as fast as he could and leaped off once he was close enough to the ground.
“Thief!” one of the guards yelled on the other side.
A thief? If only he was but a simple thief. Kieran ran back to the tree lurking out of the woods and freed the horse from its branches. He climbed up onto the saddle and logged his shoe in the black stallion’s leg. The stallion heeded his master’s command. It galloped into the forest and away from the castle and the guards yelled after them. He hated leaving the rope hanging along the outer walls. A symbol of carelessness. It was not his way to leave a mark behind. A flawless job needed to end with no trace. His first mistake was slipping on the wall. He should have put his gloves in the saddle bag to prevent them from falling out of his pocket. What if it had been the dagger that had slipped out? He clenched his fists. Next time, he needed to step up his game. The king hired him for his flawless skills. Perfection was the only option
