The Fallen Assassin, James Holmes [best management books of all time TXT] 📗

the leather pouch on his belt. He held it tight in his grasp for a moment and looked either way along the corridor, before hurling it towards the stairwell as hard as he could.

The moment the coin struck the stone floor the guards were thrown into turmoil, and dispersed from the door in a flash. The tinkling of the coin as it bounced and rolled towards the stairs sounded like the delicate music of a glockenspiel, it echoed around them.

‘What was that?’ One yelled, gripping the hilt of his sword.

‘Someone’s here,’ another replied. ‘Find them.’
Four guards started off down the hall towards the stairs, their swords now drawn and held firmly in their hands. Pan stayed where he was, his gaze shifting from side to side as he watched the guards disappear through various doors and bends in the hallway, leaving just two standing at the doors.

When Pan was sure he was alone with them, he slipped his hand to his belt once more and took out a small dagger from its sheath. Taking the blade in his fingers, he aimed, and threw it at one of the guards, hearing it hum as it spun through the air. It caught the man in the neck; the only place that was unprotected by his chain mail and he slumped back against the wall with a thud, blood streaming down his dappled armour.

The other guard leapt back in fright, his sword swinging wildly in front of him. ‘Who’s there?’ He called, fear tangible in his voice.

Pan didn't reply just yet, but drew his sword and waited for the opportune moment of which to strike. He only waited for a second or two when his chance arose and the guard turned his back to him. With that, Pan dropped to the floor with feline grace and plunged his sword straight through the guard’s armour into his back. A muffled yell escaped the guard’s lips as he stumbled forward, his arms flailing at his side.

‘I am a Shadow,’ Pan replied, leaning in to whisper in his ear. The guard was motionless and gasping for breath. ‘And a rebel against your cause.’

Pan withdrew his sword, letting the guard stagger aimlessly before he collapsed onto the floor, his sword falling from his grasp. On hearing voices rise from the stairwell, Pan knew he had no time to hide the bodies so turned, pushed open the door to the Sorcerer’s quarters and slipped inside.

Lavender and camomile filled the air with a sickly scent, suffusing the atmosphere with an austere presence. The only light came from a huge marble fireplace that was stacked high with flaming logs, the bark crackling and hissing beneath the heat. Six arched windows flooded the room in a dull haze of waning moonlight, illuminating the four poster bed that lay against the far wall. It was adorned in white linen drapes that billowed in the breeze from the open window like waiflike spirits.

Pan shut the door quietly behind him, securing the lock as footsteps and yells could be heard from the hallway. He looked around the room, squinting to see through the gloom to find that of the two leather bound armchairs that stood before the fireplace, one was occupied.

‘You’ve made a grave mistake in coming here,’ came an eerie voice. It sounded almost melodic; deep and soulful like the call of a beast.

Banging started on the doors behind him,
startling Pan as he edged forwards.

‘The only mistake here is your aiding Queen Iradeth in her quest for supremacy,’ Pan replied, securing the sword in his hands. ‘Her reign has cost the lives of countless innocents; she is immoral.’

The man stood, turning towards Pan as he lingered by the doors. The subtle moonlight and blaze of the fire caught in the wrinkles on his face, making them seem more profound and his gleaming face all the more haunting.

He was pale and emaciated, with not a single hair atop his head to soften the harshness of his features. He wore a fitted burgundy cloak, with embroidered detailing around the cuffs and hem, the thread twinkling in the firelight.

‘You speak of Queen Iradeth as though she is the enemy,’ the Sorcerer began, keeping his watchful, grey eyes on Pan. ‘Far from it; she has a gallant design for the Western Lands, one that cannot be fulfilled without sacrifice.’

‘I’m glad you understand the concept of sacrifice,’ Pan retorted, readying himself. ‘Yours is the greatest of all; you bear a treasured gift, Sorcerer, but one that is being used against the good of humankind.’

In a flash Pan leapt across the room and knocked the Sorcerer off his feet, sending him tumbling backwards. Clutching on tight to his robe with his free hand, Pan rammed the sword into his chest as the pair rolled carelessly across the stone floor and stopped at the foot of the bed. Pan, now straddling the Sorcerer, kept his hands firmly on the sword’s handle and looked down at him in remorse.

‘I offer you my sincerest apologies dear Sorcerer,’ he whispered softly. ‘Iradeth has clearly poisoned your mind.’

As the life slowly ebbed away from him, Pan stood and pulled the sword from the Sorcerer’s chest, wiping the blade clean on his cloak. He looked to the door only to realise that the banging was growing even more furious; there was no way out.

‘I knew you would come,’ came a light, delicate voice from beside the fireplace.
Pan almost dropped his sword in fright, but he kept a rigid grip on the hilt and directed the blade towards the origin of the sound.

‘Show yourself,’ he replied flatly, watching as from within the wavering shadow, a woman stepped into view.

She was incredible, with deep auburn hair that fell in featherlike tussles, framing her slender, porcelain face. She wore a cream velvet gown that accentuated her willowy physique, the fabric almost glowing and giving her an ethereal presence. Her emerald eyes sparkled like long forgotten pools; deep and brimming with power she stared at him unafraid. She stepped closer, her hands outstretched to show she was unarmed.

‘You are just how I imagined you to be,’ she said softly, her face caught in a half-smile. ‘Although you are a little late.’

‘Who are you?’ Pan asked naively, still wary of the peculiar woman.

She bowed. ‘I am Kelinia, the Sorcerer.’

She spoke with such sincerity Pan believed her at once and he gasped as he looked down at the man he had just killed. ‘Then who is that?’

‘He is the façade,’ she replied, edging closer. ‘And the one who kept me prisoner. I owe you a debt of thanks in rescuing me.’
She was in front of him now, looking at him with eyes of longing. Pan returned her gaze. ‘No,’ he snapped, stepping back from her. ‘This was not a rescue mission.’

Her face softened in pleading. ‘Please, I know you are a killer, but the words you spoke just moments ago lead me to believe your heart is true. I have not been aiding Iradeth out of choice; she has forced me, kept me captive. If you take me with you I can help you defeat her once and for all.’

He was caught; he had been deceived many times in his life and in all honesty he was unsure as to whether he should believe her. Her eyes begged him to, they pleaded with every ounce of her being but it was more the feeling of conviction she radiated when she spoke that caused Pan to look at her.

‘How will we escape?’ He asked.

She turned from him and made her way over to the doors and when her slight hand grasped the handle she looked back at him. ‘Stay out of sight, I will see to the guards.’

Pan concealed himself behind an armoire, and when she was satisfied she pulled back the lock and the banging stopped. She opened the door, to a barrage of guards, all panting with faces full of anger and fear.

‘There is an intruder,’ Kelinia said quickly, her voice calm and soothing. ‘He has escaped out of the window and is making his way down to the courtyard as we speak; find him, all of you.’

‘Yes Sorcerer,’ the closest guard replied and gestured the men off.

Kelinia waited until all were gone then signalled for Pan to reveal himself.

‘There is another way out of the Fortress,’ she said as she led him back into the hallway. She did not stir at the sight of the slaughtered guards, merely stepped over their corpses and carried on. ‘A hidden tunnel that leads out past the southern wall; it is our only escape.’

Pan did not reply, but followed without question. Their escape was made in silence, and when they reached the entrance to the tunnel, hidden behind the stables in the courtyard Kelinia had noticed Pan’s disregard. She did not speak of it until they were safely making their way down the dank passageway.

‘You are troubled?’ She asked, glancing over her shoulder at Pan as he followed.

‘My task was clear,’ he said with shame. ‘I was under strict orders to find the Sorcerer and kill him,’ he faltered. ‘Her; in flouting my instructions I am risking everything I hold dear to me.’

‘They will not take lightly to you returning with me?’

Pan looked away from her, his sorrow-filled eyes speaking volumes. ‘You have done too much to warrant a safe house with the Tanus; they will kill you.’

‘Then we are renegades,’ she said, stopping and forcing him to look at her. She took his hands in hers, her skin warm and soft. ‘Together we will overcome Iradeth’s reign on these Lands and defeat her once and for all.’

He seemed unconvinced. ‘That is a bold statement, Kelinia.’

‘You forget,’ she smiled coyly. ‘The Queen is powerless without me at her side.’
He smiled in return. ‘I can see why.’

As they started off again, Pan was caught in trying to determine if things would ever be the same again, or if now was the start of a brave new chapter in his life; a powerful ally at his side. Either way, he was fallen.
Imprint

Publication Date: 10-12-2009

All Rights Reserved