Free Web NovelChapter 341: Chapter 341
The first guard died without ever knowing he was in danger.
He stood at his post not too far from the entrance, weight resting lazily on one leg, his sword sheathed at his side, attention dulled by the monotony of endless nights spent standing watch when nothing ever happened there. His gaze drifted, unfocused as sleep and fatigue tried to drag him under.
A figure peeled itself from the wall behind him. Then a hand clamped roughly over his mouth, preventing him from making a single sound. A blade slid cleanly between his ribs, finding the space beneath bone with practiced ease. The guard’s eyes widened, shock flaring briefly before dying out completely. The sound he tried to make never left his throat.
His body was lowered to the floor with care, guided down so he would not hit the ground loudly and draw attention. He was arranged neatly, positioned where passing eyes would slide past without noticing him. By the time he breathed his final breath, the two figures responsible were already moving on, their footsteps soundless.
They moved farther into the house. Every turn of the corridor held a sentry. Every sentry fell the same way as the first. The assassins moved fast and their strikes were precise. They brandished their steel weapons, slashing throats open before cries could form, necks snapped quickly before the victim could raise alarm, and hearts were pierced in a single decisive thrust. freewebnøvel.com
Their kills came swiftly and quietly, delivered by hands that had done this many times before.
The assassins worked in perfect synchrony. One advanced while the other covered, each anticipating the other’s movements without a word spoken between them. It only took a slight tilt of the head, and a gentle flick of the wrist to get their message across to each other, their mode of communication so subtle it was invisible to anyone else.
Aeron Tavish’s home was vast, its halls wide and richly adorned with gold. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, magnificent in its grandeur.
The assassins moved like part of the house itself, slipping through narrow servant corridors used only by members of the house staff, ascending stairwells on quiet feet, bypassing locked doors with practiced ease as they slid a pin into place. It was followed by a soft click, before the door finally swung open.
By the time they reached the upper level, half the guards stationed along the main routes were already dead.
The scent of blood followed them faintly, warm and lingering in the air like a ghastly trail leading to all the things they did that night. It would be noticed soon. Someone would stumble upon a body and they would undoubtedly raise an alarm.
They did not have long now.
The master’s chambers lay at the far end of the wing.
An ornate door stood between them and their target, carved with curling designs and inlaid with gold that caught what little light filtered down the hall. It was the sort of door meant to inspire awe, meant to remind visitors of the owner’s wealth and power.
The assassin on the left tested the handle once. It was unlocked.
He nodded to his companion.
They pushed the door just wide enough for one of them to fit through. One assassin slipped inside, a dark sack clenched in one hand. The other remained by the threshold, back pressed to the wall, body coiled and ready, eyes fixed down the hall, listening for the slightest disturbance.
Inside, the chamber was large and dimly lit. Heavy curtains were drawn over large windows, shutting out the moonlight.
At the room’s center stood a massive four-poster bed, its dark wood beautifully carved, draped in fine linens.
Aeron Tavish lay asleep upon it. He rested on his back, chest rising and falling steadily, one arm thrown carelessly across silk sheets. His features were relaxed, untroubled, the lines etched deep into his face smoothed away by sleep. Whatever schemes or worries plagued him by day had not followed him into the night as he slept peacefully.
The assassin crossed the room without a sound. He stopped at the foot of the bed and set the sack down carefully on the floor, ensuring it made no noise. Then he drew his dagger. The blade caught the faint light from the flickering candles, its edge cleaned, and sharp.
He moved to Aeron’s side. For a second, he simply watched him, timing the rise and fall of his chest. Then he raised the dagger and positioned it over Aeron’s heart, aligning the point precisely so it slid passed bone and struck its mark.
The blade began its descent.
Aeron’s eyes flew open.
Instinct took over before thought could catch up. His hand shot out, fingers closing around the assassin’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Steel stopped a breath away from his body, the cold kiss of the blade hovering just above his chest.
For a moment, the room seemed to freeze.
Then the struggle began.
Aeron gritted his teeth, twisting his body, using his weight to force the blade away from his heart. The assassin leaned into the motion, strength controlled and relentless, trying to drive the dagger downward despite the resistance. The bed creaked beneath them as Aeron fought to sit up, muscles straining, breath coming fast.
"Guards!" Aeron shouted, his voice tearing through the room. "Guards!"
Footsteps thundered somewhere down the hall. They were too many at once, heading straight to Aeron’s room. Voices followed, sharp and alarmed.
The assassins were out of time. So the assassin by the door reacted instantly.
The second assassin surged forward, crossing the room in a heartbeat. A knife flashed from his sleeve, catching the light for a split second before disappearing. With a sharp motion, he buried it deep into Aeron’s thigh. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
Aeron screamed, the sound raw and anguished, as the blade was wrenched free. Blood poured from the wound, soaking the sheets as he collapsed back against the mattress. His grip faltered, pain ripping through him, fingers loosening just enough.
