The Night War Book One of the Assassin Guild

Prologue

This book is PG for action violence, fantasy scenes

***

The light came towards the old house. 

Rebecca watched the night moon's glow in the dark sky. 

Her face was etched in concern for her parents. 

They were away from her, as if the grimness of the harsh work was causing her to think about abandoning it, since it was 6:00 PM. Hunger was on her mind. She stopped walking through the dim woods; she focused on the night, as if she sought out assassins who kept to the shadows in the gloom.

Rebecca watched the sun. 

It was gone. 

The moon took it place. 

She ran. 

And, as the hooded men, and women, saw her, she knew she wouldn't be safe from them. 'Get away from me'.

They smiled, and dragged her into the cold chamber.

***

'Where am I?', asked Rebecca. 

'You're one of us, child', The Assassin Master answered. 

'Am I dead?'.

'No. I am Quentin Nathaniel Blackwood'. 

'I heard about you from my father'.

'Yes, I know Rebecca. But, his death was most problematic'. 

'I know. Mother was sad'. 

'Follow me, Rebecca'. 

She did as he told her to do.

***

The final chime of the bells was heard. 

Rebecca waited. 

 'What is going on?', she asked. 

'For two hundred years, the Irish political system is in crisis. The old ways of Kings, Queens, Princes, and Princesses, from the English side, is troublesome. Wars have come to collapse the United Kingdom. Wales, and Scotland, are separated by pacts of peace from a truce. We are assassins; we are dealing with death all of the time. No one knows of girls who are perceived to be weak. But, that's untrue. Fact is, boys are killed on the line of battle. Men are weak by nature if their power is gone from them. Women, their wives, struggle to feed their children. They are weak too. But, I digress. Ireland is full of people who travel to the New World; New York in America. You are born in the city. Others have come too. There is no truth to the idea of damnation; there is no fantasy involved. Such things are not my truths. You are here to act; you are to be trained in combat. Others have failed because they do not believe in death. But, as you do know that the beginning of everything is mine...and mine alone. Do you understand?'.

'Yes', Rebecca said. 

'Excellent! Then we shall start now'.

***

Rebecca watched other assassins. 

They weren't too eager to see a girl near the walls. 

'Leave her be...She is not to die'. 

'Is that wise?'.

'Yes, Morton. The Master-At-Arms can fight her'.

'We shall see, Quentin', Edwin Clay said. 

Rebecca's feet stood apart.

In her right hand was a hammer. 

She fought the Man-At-Arms. 

She ducked and weaved; she wasn't a girl who fell over. 

'Fight!'.

Rebecca made sure she was keeping eye contact with the Master-At-Arms. 

When she smiled, he knew Quentin made the correct choice. 

She was now a member of the Assassin's Guild. 

***

The feast was over. 

Rebecca had eaten chicken, fish, and warm buttered bread. She drank Earl Grey tea. She was thinking of the battle; she was sure she was alive. Others saw her, and were impressed by the girl. No one, (apart from the Master-At-Arms), wanted to yell out: 'She's not one of us!'); she was smiling, as she prepared for an afternoon sleep in her chambers. As the hours' passed, a silence descended on the Assassin's Guild house, while others plotted in the Forest of Shadows.

***

The bell tolled ten.

Rebecca watched the ancient ceremony. 

She was thinking about the time of the First Age when she was born. The event was wonderous. A happy time before the War of Guilds happened; before the grimness of the Battle of Horns happened. She saw armor was on the grey walls to her left; she saw the Stone Tables to her right, as she put it on. The dutiful younger girl was gone; the hardened assassin girl was someone new, and she was one of the harder people who fought for survival. She yawned; she was sure her education had suffered; she saw the Master-At-Arms. 'The Nuns of Yore will educate you, Assassin. This is important. Please go'. 

'Yes, Master-At-Arms'. 

And she learned English, History, Geography, Math, Science, and Languages. After several hours, she took her time before she slept in her chambers.

***

Two hours' later...

***

Rebecca yawned. 

She was mystified by the yelling coming from outside the chamber door. The idea that her sleep was affected by something of a disturbance was akin to shaking the gilded dagger at the person; the dagger was old, and was used by Eldric Sykes, the blacksmith. She opened the black door; she was about to yell at the person who ruined her sleep, when she saw a boy. He seemed wary of her, as if he was going to attack her. But he didn't. 'Who are you?', Rebecca asked him. 'Kincaid Robeson', he answered. The Fallen Assassin's son. 'You're not supposed to be here'. Kincaid watched her. 

'Rebecca. You're with the Master-At-Arms'.

'Yes, I was. I am safe from danger', she said. 

'Good. I was thinking that the darkness took over Ireland...And New York', Kincaid said. He watched her, as if she would stab him in the chest; he was backing away. Fast. 'I won't kill you; I will let you sleep in the chamber bed over near the warm fireplace. It's winter now'. Kincaid smiled, and nodded. 

'I shall not disrupt you again, Rebecca', he told her. 

And she closed the door. 

***

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