ForumsArt, Music, and WritingThe Lot of a Mercenary - A short story

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ElvenWarlord3912
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ElvenWarlord3912
36 posts
Nomad

He crouched in one of the small towers that lined the wall, green eyes darting quickly back and forth. He had to be careful. This would be his biggest assignment yet. His target: the prince. The reward? It would be enough to keep him living comfortably for years to come. He didn't question why the prince was to be killed. The promise of gold was enough to keep his conscience quieted.
A flag could be heard flapping above the din of everyday castle life. He strained his ears, listening for that one sound. He checked his equipment while he waited. His crossbow lay next to him, as black as the clothes it's owner wore, its deadly bolt an instrument of death. A belt with four throwing knives and two daggers was placed around his waist, and last a broadsword was strapped to his back.
He stood quickly. That was what he had been waiting for: the trumpet call that signalled the approach of the prince and his no doubt sizable entourage of guards. He picked up his crossbow and made sure everything was in working order while he listened to the gates opening. He silently moved to the window, keeping to the shadows.
The prince entered his line of view, dressed in full battle regalia, perched majestically upon his pure white horse. He was followed by twenty foot soldiers divided into two lines of ten each.
He raised his crossbow to his eye and took aim. This was it. After this he could go home. His finger hovored over the mechanism.
"Um... Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!"
He cursed as her turned to face a guard... a very drunk guard.
"Wait! Is that a crossbow? Are you here to kill someone? Are you trying to kill the prince? I can't allow that!"
The guard charged and the assassin moved out of the way, tripping the guard with an outstretched foot. The guard fell towards the window, and his body was mostly out of the window before the assassin could catch his foot. A body falling from a window would most certainly attract attention, yet the guard struggled to free his foot.
"You idiot! I'm trying to save you!" The guard stopped struggling at these words, and the assassin leaned out and reached for his hand. The guard had other plans however and wrenched his foot free from the assassin and grabbed hold, pulling both of them out of the window.
As he fell, the assassin knew he had but precious seconds to act. He pulled the drunken soldier close to him before releasing the crossbow bolt into his chest. He braced himself for impact and yelled in pain as he hit the ground with the now dead guard beneath him. As hard as an armored body was, the stone ground was slightly more unforgiving. He jumped up, ignoring the pain in his side. A few broken ribs was all that he had suffered, but he had also alerted the prince and all twenty of his personal guard to his presence.
The prince glared at him, making eye contact before giving the inevitible order. "Kill him!"
The assassin watched as the soldiers quickly made their way towards him, weapons held high. He used his throwing knives to quickly dispatch four of them while they were some distance away. He then drew his twin daggers. Both were curved with a red stone in the handle, red for blood. When he judged they were close enough, he sprinted towards his enemies. He leaped on the nearest one, cutting his throat. He stabbed another in the gut, quickly turning to cut the jugular of another. He lost one of his daggers in the chest of a soldier and another when one of his adversaries sliced a sword across his forearm, creating a deep cut that bled freely.
The assassin pulled out his broadsword and smiled as he relished the look of hesitant fear on their faces. And yet, even though their numbers had been diminished by half, the assassin knew he couldn't win this fight. He was tiring quickly.
Suddenly the expressions on the guards' faces changed to one of hope and confidence. The assassin looked over to the prince... or where the prince had been. There stood now only his horse. The assassin's body convulsed as he felt the blade pierce his back and he looked down to see several inches of a sword protruding from his chest. He fell, the lifeblood puring out of his body. He saw the prince standing over him.
"I hate to dirty my sword on the likes of him, but something had to be done." The prince smiled condescendingly at the dying assassin.
The assassin smirked. He didn't fear death. His only regret was that he had failed. Surely that wouldn't be good for his reputation. And then there was the matter of all that gold. He wouldn't be recieving a single gold coin...
But he closed his eyes peacefully. It was his lot in life. Nothing in life is certain, even life itself. He was, after all, a mercenary...

  • 3 Replies
flappybob999
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flappybob999
797 posts
Peasant

Very good story. Is this going to be a mix of short stories such as these?
You have very good writing talent. Keep it up.

Parsat
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Parsat
2,180 posts
Blacksmith

Well done. That is all I can say.

ElvenWarlord3912
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ElvenWarlord3912
36 posts
Nomad

yes. I plan on writing several more of these. I have a couple more that are REALLY short, and completely unrelated. But I enjoy the whole mystery of not knowing who anybody is or what's going on. The others are like that as well.

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