Shattered Glass Rain fell outside the castle walls, pelting the courtyard with icy droplets. Beyond the large windows, the towering figure of the central keep loomed ominously against the gray sky. Lieutenant Seth Aerin watched the gloomy scene outside, hoping it wasn’t symbolic of events to come. On this dreary fall day, he walked through the torch-lit stone halls, face obscured by his dark gray cloak. He and another Guardsman were presently escorting Adrian, High King of the Midlands, to a diplomatic meeting with the representatives from the neighboring country of Eldeor. Some petty dispute over a few small borderlands, he predicted. The hooded guards kept a respectable distance from the king, yet were always alert, scanning for any sign of danger. The king, striding boldly in front of them, radiated authority. Tall, powerful, and younger than most of the land’s officials, he seemed ambitious and strong. Finally, they reached the massive wood doors of the throne room. The well-dressed delegates were already waiting, clearly impatient. The sight of them put Seth on edge. He distrusted them, like many of the Midlanders, and watched them with fiery intensity. No one spoke until Adrian took his seat in the huge decorated throne. His two silent bodyguards took their positions on either side, unmoving as statues. The king smiled, putting on a mask of courtesy. “Thank you for your time, ambassadors. I assume this is a matter of some importance?” The large, gray-haired diplomat was not as polite in his response. “Spare me the pleasantries and let’s get on with this. You know very well what we want. We’ve come to demand the return of our land which your men forcefully…acquired.” The king’s bearded face took on a grim look. “I believe you’re referring to the rebellion of the peasants. My men were only involved in putting down the revolt. They’ll stay long enough to ensure that the area is secure and then return.” The other man’s face turned red. “You’re no better than common thieves! What right did you have to interfere in our country’s affairs?” “Relax, ambassador. As you know, this area is very close to the border of my country as well. In the interest of my people, I must deal with any possible threats to our security.” The rest of the heated conversation was a blur to Seth. Why should the king bother dealing with these idiots? It was all just a waste of time. For years, the two countries had been bickering over this insignificant piece of earth, which had become a sort of no-man’s land. Why not just sign a treaty declaring it a neutral zone? He was lost in his thoughts for a few moments, until a loud noise suddenly exploded into the room. The hall was filled with loud cries of fear and rage. Seth looked over his shoulder in time to see the huge window behind the throne shatter. He heard a horrible scream and turned instinctively, rushing to protect his king. His fears were confirmed when he saw Adrian on the floor, an arrow piercing him through his back. He was still alive, but bleeding freely. In horror, Seth shouted, “Get him to a doctor! Quick!” As his fellow bodyguard and a few other men lifted the barely conscious man, he stared at the jagged remains of the window, still in shock. Rain was pouring into the throne room now, drenching the cold stone floor. A dark, cloaked figure armed with a bow stood on the roof six feet below the window. The man turned and fled into the rain. With a cry of fury, Seth leaped out the window and landed a few feet away on the outside roof. The rain was coming down much harder than it appeared from inside and soaked his shoulder-length brown hair. He ran faster than he thought possible, adrenaline rushing through his body. Drawing his sword, he rushed around the corner of the chimney where the assassin had vanished. Apparently not expecting pursuit, the man seemed taken off guard, but fled across the broad rooftop. In desperation, he leaped from one roof to the next, barely landing on the other side. Seth bolted after him, the sound of his heavy breathing and footsteps deafening. He chased the killer for what seemed like hours, realizing he couldn’t keep his pace much longer. The other man was too fast, almost impossible to outrun. Finally, luck intervened as the cloaked man lost his balance on the slick stone. Seth caught up to him and swung his sword wildly at the man but missed. His opponent gave a well-placed hit with his longbow as he thrust it forward, sending Seth’s sword flying out of his hand. He scrambled away to retrieve it, but the other man was amazingly quick. He kicked the sword off the roof, where it disappeared into the mist, hundreds of feet below. Seth launched several punches and kicks, but the shadowy form dodged most of them. Seth’s training in the Royal Guard had prepared him well for hand-to-hand combat, but his opponent was also very skilled. He brought his bow down hard on Seth’s back, then kicked him in the ribs, immobilizing him with pain. The assassin turned and vanished into the rain. Seth staggered after him, but he was too late. There was no sign of the man anywhere. He had probably jumped into one of the tall trees surrounding the castle, or maybe into the moat. It didn’t matter, Seth thought. There was no way to catch him now. He had failed. As he trudged back the way he had come, he stared at the towers around the roof and the fields below, reflecting on his misery. The scene below was depressing, the muddy streets lined with a mix of humans and other humanoid species seeking shelter from the rain. He, on the other hand, was in no hurry to go inside and face the horrible truth. He made the exhausting trip back near the center of the castle and climbed into a tower window. His heart, still pumping with the force of a hammer, threatened to jump out of his chest. Spots of dark blood had appeared on his tunic and his bruises seemed a cruel, humiliating reminder of his failure. Seth had never been one to accept defeat. He barely made it to the infirmary before he collapsed. He woke a few hours later with a splitting headache. Feeling very dizzy and disoriented, he looked up at the cold stone ceiling. Where am I?, he wondered, and how in blazes did I get here? He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but there was an unexplainable sense of urgency in his mind. Something was terribly wrong, he remembered that much. Wincing with pain, he tried to sit up and saw the bloodstains on his chest. Suddenly, it all came back to him in an instant. The throbbing in his temples forgotten, he wasted no time in finding one of the nearby doctors. “The king!” he cried urgently, “What’s his condition? Has anything…” The man responded tiredly to his interrogation. “He’s still alive. He may still recover. That’s all I can say for now. Please, we can afford no interruptions.” Seth nodded, relieved yet still deathly afraid. The doctor gave him a look of sympathy, then disappeared into the next room. Heedless of the pain in his ribs, he collapsed into bed and quickly, mercifully fell into a deep sleep. A few hours later, he was woken by someone shaking him. “Wake up,” the doctor said with a smile, “It’s all right. He’s getting better. I’m sure he will live through this.” “He’s…still alive…?” Seth could hardly believe his ears. “How…? What…” “He’s very lucky,” the other man replied, “Just an inch lower and it would have taken his heart. We were able to stop most of the bleeding. It really is a miracle that there was no permanent damage done.” Adrian spent the next few days in bed after having the arrow removed, but he was later able to resume his duties. Seth took a little longer in recovering. He had escaped with only a few minor injuries, but was greatly disappointed in himself for failing to protect the king. Part of him recognized that pinning the blame on himself was useless, but his personal demons taunted him continually, saying I should have known what would happen. I should have been on the lookout. The window was the most obvious place for an assassination attempt. How could I not see it? I should have jumped in front of him and taken the arrow into my own chest. My death would have been for the greater good. And the internal dialogue raged on continually, drowning out everything else. He received a medal for outstanding conduct and bravery, as well as a promotion, but it was meaningless to him. He continued to serve as a Guardsman, but began to question whether the job was truly right for him. Ever since he was a boy growing up in a small town, he had dreamed of joining the Royal Guard. He had been one of the lucky few to pass the entrance test and be accepted. He should feel proud of his accomplishments, shouldn’t he? The incident was followed by a thorough investigation, but no leads were found, no one admitted to any knowledge of what had happened. The identity of the assassin was not found and the case was soon brought to a close. THE END... kind of. This story was originally supposed to be the first part of a novel/novella, but I doubt I'll ever get around to continuing it. Too bad.
Copyright © 2006 Kyle J Douglas |