The Dragonclaw Glory
CHAPTER ONE
Merlin put the blade away. Another mission finished without a hitch. Well, as soon as he got out of the town unnoticed that is. He opened the door to the straw-roofed cottage warily, looking both ways along the cobble path for anyone who might think he was suspicious. Luckily for him there weren’t many guards around, and he snuck away from the town into the neighbouring woods.
He relaxed a little; no one would ever know he was there. There wasn’t any possible chance that someone might pin the blame for the assassination on him. Now all he had to do was head back to the guild, collect his pay, go home and forget about it all. Easy. He jogged briskly through the forest towards the guild.
The guild was located in a small cave about a league away from the town Merlin had just left. Normally, there wouldn’t be guards posted near the cave’s entrance, but tonight Kilydd was on duty. He wore a dark leather coat, black shirt and leather slacks, as all the members of the guild had to, and had long brown hair tied up in a ponytail.
“Deverell wants to speak with you.” Kilydd informed him.
Merlin nodded at him. Does he now? Why does that not surprise me? Merlin thought. Of course this wasn’t going to be as easy as he was expecting, the leader of the guild probably had another last-minute assignment for him. And there was also the matter of why there were guards posted…
He wandered through the cave’s entrance. It was moderately lit, with only torches hung up on the walls by sconces for light. He approached the main cavern, which split into seven smaller areas, and turned left to go to the leader of the guild’s office.
Behind the wooden desk sat Deverell. He had dusty blonde hair and one cold black eye; the right eye had a nasty scar and was blinded. He wore the same uniform as the rest of the guild but with a silver skull badge stuck on the left shoulder of the jacket. He looked up from whatever he was reading when Merlin entered the room.
“Ah, Merlin. Glad you could come.” Deverell greeted flatly.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“We had a new request come through while you were gone. The client has asked for the Jarl of Falkerstone Citadel’s head.” The leader explains. “According to our intel, the perfect opportunity will be tomorrow night just after sundown. The Jarl will be minimally guarded at dinner, and the dining hall has plenty of windows to shoot a careful arrow. Have I made things clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Go get some sleep, the bow and quiver will be in the armoury waiting tomorrow.”
Merlin turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder back at Deverell. “One last thing, sir. Can I ask about why there are guards being posted?”
“Ah, yes, of course. It’s just a precaution; Morvana reported seeing a noticeable increase in the patrols around towns recently. You needn’t worry about it.”
Merlin nodded and walked away, through the entrance to the cave passing Kilydd on the way out, and headed left towards his homestead.
As he was nearing the property, he noticed a strange mist, growing thicker as he walked until he could no longer see ahead. He attempted to navigate from memory of the area, but it soon turned to be futile. It was like his sense of direction had been completely broken.
A faint sound was heard through the mist, like glass wind chimes, made more eerie by the fog. Dozens of floating bubbles of light appeared around Merlin as he stood there in awe, and it was those lights that seemed to be making the noise.
“Merlin.” Came a voice, echoing through the mist.
“You dislike being bossed around, no?”
Merlin couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Nevertheless, he thought about the question before replying. It was true that he was tired of being told what to do when to do it, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like things would ever change; he would always be second best. Unless…
“Co…correct.” He answered.
“Very well.”
“You must kill the one called Deverell.”
“Take the title you desire.”
“Rule with an iron fist.”
“What?” Merlin asked, but the lights had already gone, and the mist was quick to follow suit.
He was left standing in the middle of the stone road, too confused to move. He pondered the recent events. Why do they want me to kill the leader and take over the guild? And how did they know what be felt about being second in command?
He walked quickly home and went to sleep, too lost in thought to remember to cook dinner.
He had a nightmare that night. There were dozens of fairies, their tiny hands drenched with blood, laughing sadistically through thick fog.