Hello and welcome back to another installment of my short story series! Last time I covered historical fiction, but this time I’m going to be showing you a fantasy story that I had to write as part of my genre fiction module in second year (three years ago, wow). As you know, fantasy is my favourite genre, so when we were given this task I was excited to get into it. I can’t exactly remember how I came up with this idea, but after writing it I spent ages thinking of where the story could go and whether it could be a full novel idea. This story is called ‘The Wrong Target.’
The Wrong Target
Nayda turned around, jerking her head to flick the coppery locks out of her face. The figure of a blonde young woman on a dappled grey horse was fast approaching. Nayda faced forward again, leaning deeper into the saddle. She clutched the reins so tightly her knuckles were white, the bones ready to burst from her skin.
“Faster, Storm,” Nayda whispered into the charcoal neck of her horse. Storm obeyed without even a kick or a pull of the reins, lurching into a thundering gallop.
A lake lay ahead, glimmering in the sunlight, and Nayda was forced to bring Storm to a halt, jumping off his back. She dropped to the floor where she lay in the grass, staring up at the hyacinth blanket of sky, her chest heaving.
“I told you this was pointless!” Orla said as she approached, trotting to a stop besides Storm.
“Practice makes perfect,” Nayda smirked.
“It’s no good. I don’t think Misty will ever be as quick as Storm,” Orla said, slipping gracefully from Misty and smoothing her shuddering grey flank.
“You haven’t had her as long as I’ve had Storm,” Nayda shrugged. “You simply need to go for a ride more, bond so she’ll be more willing to push herself.”
“I don’t have as much free time as you, you know,” Orla said, sitting down next to Nayda. “It took me three days to paint a portrait of one of the Dunn boys, you know the eldest, Brenner. The handsome one.”
Nayda nodded. Of course she knew which one. The pompous young man whose family sucked up to the King, wooing all the girls with his shiny new armour for jousting competitions. Flashing his white smile and winking until they were practically hyperventilating. Pathetic, thought Nayda.
“Three days!” Orla continued, bringing Nayda back to reality. “Your job is a little more…shall we say lenient?”
Turning away from what Nayda knew would be Orla’s disapproving glare, she tore blades of grass from the ground, watching them blow away as she opened her fist.
“You are careful, aren’t you Nayda? Ever since that time with the potter I can’t help but worry.”
Goosebumps erupted over Nayda’s arms despite the sun beaming down on them. She tried to rub them away. Her stupid mistake of shuffling in her hiding spot, the vase shattering to the floor. She had no choice but to run, one hand holding her cloak over her face and the other still clinging her murder weapon, a dagger. The burly potter’s footsteps clattering on the stone floor after her, shouting in a gravelly voice. Something hard hitting the back of her head, the dizzying effect making her stumble.
It was the closest she’d ever been to being caught. Until Keaton came to her rescue like she was a damsel in distress. Nayda ripped grass up from its roots even harder, her jaw clenched.
“Of course I am. That was a long time ago.”
“I still don’t know how you do it,” Orla muttered, turning her head away. “Kill people.”
“You know why I do it. Father and Mother would be starving by now if I didn’t. Maybe I wouldn’t even be here,” Nayda snapped, attempting to push herself up off the ground. Away from Orla. Away from her judgement.
Instead Orla pulled at her arm and Nayda collapsed back down with a sigh, unable to walk away from her closest friend who gazed wisely at her with long-lashed eyes.
“I know that. It’s just after painting people, looking at their every detail…I wouldn’t be able to destroy that.”
Nayda had nothing to say to that, for she didn’t feel anything when she took someone’s life. And that scared her.
All she could think of was her mother and father a couple of years ago, struggling to provide even a loaf of bread and some broth, her father’s fletching business not making nearly enough money. With Nayda’s income, they went to bed full each night, pangs of hunger a thing of the past. If her parents were aware of what they she was doing, she was sure they’d banish her from entering the house.
A high-pitched cry made Nayda leap up immediately, her hand going straight to the dagger in her belt. She relaxed when she saw the hawk, its wings outspread and curled beak slightly open as it floated down into the grass. Nayda blinked and in the hawk’s place stood Keaton, his dark hair ruffled. He was looking down his pointed nose at Orla sprawled out on the grass, her red dress spread across the ground, standing out like a rose against the lush green.
“You know I don’t like it when you bring other people along,” Keaton said sharply.
“It’s only Orla, relax. She’s not going to tell anyone,” Nayda said, rolling her eyes.
Keaton looked as if he was about to say something else, but thought better of it and pulled a scroll tied with string from beneath his cloak. He handed it to Nayda and she took it, unravelling the string to reveal the name written scruffily inside. Underneath the name was the money she would earn if she chose to take on the target. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at the sum. She had never seen that much money in her life.
“So will you do it?” Keaton asked. “Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t think you’re up for the task.”
Before Nayda could answer or even shoot back some harsh words in her defence, Orla let out a gasp from over her shoulder.
“Brenner Dunn?!” Orla shouted.
“Shush Orla!”
“You know how close the Dunn family is to the King. If you so much as scratched him you’d have the Royal Guard on you! What could he have done to deserve this?”
Nayda swallowed hard, closing her eyes. She never asked why. Usually her targets had done something wrong. The potter, for example, had scammed hundreds of pounds off the man who wanted him killed. Brenner Dunn was a bit of an arse, Nayda thought, but she couldn’t see him doing anything that justified his murder.
But it wasn’t her job to ask why.
“I’ll do it,” Nayda said firmly, disregarding Orla’s screams of outrage. “How long do I have?”
“Until Friday,” Keaton said, taking the scroll back off Nayda and tearing it into a thousand pieces, letting it fly into the lake so it couldn’t be traced.
That left Nayda with five days. Five days to kill Brenner Dunn, one of the most popular men in the kingdom. She fell back into the grass, shaking a little. With a quick burst of light, Keaton turned back into a hawk and flew up into the sky.
“How can you do this?” Orla cried, her golden curls bristling with rage as she shook her head. “He’s done nothing wrong. He’s one of the nicest men I have ever met.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s nice – or handsome,” added Nayda, ignoring the image of Brenner with his stupid chiselled jaw and hair so dark it was as black as a raven’s wing. She pushed the picture of a bag heaving with coins back into her head instead.
“Well why do you have to be bossed around by other people, do their dirty work for them?”
Nayda looked into Orla’s blue eyes, ice cold and angry.
“Because I’m an assassin. That’s what we do.”
As mentioned earlier, I honestly can’t remember how the story came to me but I do have some ideas of how to expand it into a novel. Maybe it will be one of my future projects one day! I liked having a protagonist who wasn’t exactly ‘good’ and was flawed. She does bad things, even if it is to provide for her family. I’d like the rest of the story to explore how she comes to terms with her morals and escape the lifestyle she is so used to. It will be interesting to be in the mind of someone like this and I hope it’s an interesting perspective for readers.
I also loved the dynamic between Nayda and Orla. Even though Orla doesn’t approve of Nayda’s job, she sticks by her side, but isn’t afraid to voice her opinion. I think they’re a great example of opposites attract, Orla wearing pretty dresses and being creative, and Nayda being, well, a ruthless killer.
I don’t usually go for a medieval setting either, which is why I wanted to bring in Keaton being a sort of shape shifter too. If I am to expand on the story, I want the world to have lots of different creatures and fantasy aspects to it. To me, that’s my favourite part about writing fantasy!
I do think Nayda being ‘I’m not like the other girls’ is kind of annoying, and I would definitely change this. I think for me growing up, a lot of books that I read had girls who claimed they were different because they didn’t like make up and girly clothes, or liked books instead of boys. As this story would be targeted at teens and young adults, I think my mind just cast itself back to what I read and tried to have a ‘different’ protagonist too. But just because she is an assassin, it doesn’t mean she can’t have a badass dress on or look down her nose at others. Which is why I’m glad I have Orla as a character too, who is more girly but not mocked for it.
I also feel like I focused way too much on eye or hair colour, as well as general colour description. I would tone down on this if I was to rewrite it, and come up with more imaginative horse names than Storm and Misty! It’s interesting to see how my writing of the fantasy genre has changed and I can immediately pick things up that I would alter now.
Overall though, I like these characters and the general story, so it would be cool to return one day and see where it goes! There are definitely many changes I would make but I can see the start of me building my own fantasy world.
What did you think of this story? Let me know down in the comments and thank you for reading!