Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “I am also sure you are curious about your mother’s whereabouts, are you not?” the Red King asked with the trace of a smile.

  Finriel tensed and shot the king a look of both hope and terror. “How do you know of my mother?”

  The Red King sighed. “I ordered her banishment, of course. No witch is allowed to practice battle magic in the middle of my city, nor in any part of Raymara. I do apologize that the ordeal occurred mere hours after your birth.”

  Finriel grimaced. “Where is she?”

  “She is safe in the Witch Isles, where I sent her,” the Red King replied calmly.

  “How do I know that you are telling the truth?” Finriel asked, her voice nearly a hiss.

  “It was only common sense to send her to the birthplace of our kind, where she could live the rest of her days with the priestesses and learn from them. She is of course banned from ever stepping foot off the isle, but she is safe.”

  “Will I be able to see her once the mission is completed?”

  “Of course,” the king replied. “I will have a ship with safe passage ready for you the day you arrive with the pages and their creator.”

  Lorian watched Finriel sort through the king’s words in her mind, his breath catching at her terrifying beauty, as well as her proximity.

  Finriel huffed, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  The Red King clapped his hands together and leaned back into his throne. “Well then, now that this matter is settled, we can move on. You will travel by foot, as horseback is quicker yet more dangerous. I expect for the three of you to depart Keadora at dawn, so I have arranged for you three to stay the night in the castle for promptness sake.”

  The king motioned toward a door near the back corner of the room that Lorian had not seen before. It opened silently, and a very unfortunate looking creature scuffled through it and headed toward Lorian and Finriel. The creature’s skin was grey and gnarled, and heavy dark brown robes were wrapped around its hunched body. Two grey horns protruded from the top of its head and small pointed ears flicked back and forth directly below them. The being was not a human, but a gargoyle.

  “Ah yes, Agonur,” the king muttered. “Can you please lead these three … companions to their temporary rooms?”

  The gargoyle bent its already hunched body into a low bow, and an odd guttural sound uttered from its mouth. The creature then straightened and extended a dark clawed hand, indicating for Lorian, Finriel, and Tedric to follow it out of the room. Tedric bowed low to the king and Lorian simply gave a bright smile and a nod, which was frankly all he felt like his body could muster at the moment. Finriel merely glared at the king for a split second longer before she dipped her gaze and turned, brushing past Lorian and following Agonur. She paused after a few steps and faced the Red King once more.

  “I need to go back to my cottage and gather my things.”

  Lorian looked between Finriel and the Red King, who sighed and shook his head.

  “I am afraid that will not be possible. All of the supplies you will each need for the journey will be waiting for you in your rooms, and your mogwa will also be there when you arrive.”

  Finriel bristled and barely managed a nod toward the king before she spun on her heel and stalked out the door. Lorian offered one last tilt of his head toward the king before he made his way behind the gargoyle and Finriel, who were already leaving him behind.

  Fresh air flowed through the now open windows that lined the halls, giving Lorian some relief from the insufferable rose scent. Lorian shivered at the foreign brush of cool air on his skin and sighed with pleasure at the faint birdsong in the distance, along with the idle chatter and city noises beyond. Lorian had almost forgotten what fresh air smelled or felt like. His chest expanded with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a very long time and a smile began to play at his cracked lips.

  Tedric strode calmly at Lorian’s side and a grin spread across his chiseled face at the apparent look of elation coming from Lorian. He gestured at the window and his chocolate brown eyes flicked toward the city.

  “All of the windows disappear at sunset and appear at nightfall so that fresh air can flow through the castle.”

  Lorian cocked his head to the side and glanced at Finriel’s stiff and obviously livid figure, but quickly looked away again after his empty stomach gave an uncomfortable flop.

  “That’s how I entered your precious castle, you know,” Lorian replied casually. “Your system makes it far too easy for unwanted visitors to infiltrate.”

  The commander stiffened but continued to look out of the open windows. The enormous expanse of grassy hills was now browning, the rows of cottages and buildings in orderly clusters near the castle blending into the changing terrain. Lorian supposed that fall had approached swiftly during his time in incarceration.

  “I am aware of that,” Tedric said. “But not many people are as foolish as you were to enter the Crimson Castle without proper invitation.”

  Lorian chuckled, thinking that perhaps he would grow to like Tedric Drazak. The new companions followed Agonur around a corner and the circulation of air dulled considerably. After a few moments, they found themselves in a dimly lit hallway bare of windows. Dozens of dark wooden doors lined either wall, and the gargoyle’s loud breath bounced uncomfortably off the narrow space.

  “This one on the right is yours, good warrior, sir,” Agonur said in a raspy voice as he gestured toward the first door on their right.

  Tedric stepped forward and nodded at both Finriel and Lorian before he grasped the brass door handle. “I will meet you two at first light in the stables.” With that, Tedric opened the door and disappeared into his room with a soft click.

  Both Finriel and Lorian remained in tense silence as the gargoyle shuffled forward, and moments later, he indicated a door a few feet to the left that was meant for the witch. Finriel grabbed the door and yanked it open, stepping through and slamming it behind her with a loud bang.

  “She frightens me,” the gargoyle said with a timid smile, and angled his head to look at Lorian.

  Lorian nodded in silent agreement and the creature simply indicated the door directly across from Finriel’s. “Your room, young thief, sir.”

  Lorian thanked the gargoyle before he strode to the door and stepped inside his room. He wondered if he could ever remove the title of thief from his name after this mission and shook his head with a chuckle as he closed the door. No, even with his bad history removed, he would still retain the name. It had been his partially unwanted badge of honor since he was eleven years old.

  Lorian turned and his heart stopped at the simple splendor of the room around him. The light marble walls arched into gloriously carved designs on the ceiling and an extravagant chandelier hung at the center of the room, the orange and red crystals bathing the room in a warm kaleidoscope of color.

  Lorian brought his attention to the plush rug before him, which was the same color as the rubies hanging from the chandelier. A large oak dresser was pressed against the far wall, presumably void of any clothing. Yet it wasn’t the dresser or the carpet, or even the chandelier and carved ceiling, that made Lorian’s already weak knees wobble. It was the bed.

  The bed was large enough to hold five grown men with room to spare. Cream-colored sheets and stuffed pillows beckoned, and Lorian staggered over to it, kicking off his torn boots carelessly as he went. Lorian reached out to touch the silk covers, but paused and retracted his filth-encrusted hands. He would need a bath before even considering lying upon those sheets. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of using water to bathe himself instead of simply drinking or splashing it upon his face.

  Lorian turned and spotted an archway that led to another dark room. He moved toward it and a warm light glowed to life from an unknown source. A simple metal tub was placed in the center of the room and a stone basin full of water stood in the far corner. A small window overlooked the city, the nearly set sun bathing the room in more glowing light.

  Lorian
strode to the bathtub and blinked in amazement as steaming hot water began to fill it. He looked around, but there was no logical source for the flowing water. It was magic. Lorian shook his head and began to peel off his disgusting rags.

  “Witches,” he grumbled with a small smile.

  He padded over to the tub once he had successfully ripped off his threadbare clothes and left them strewn upon the cold white floor. The water was scalding against his skin as Lorian gently lowered himself into a seated position with a gasp. The water swirled and surged around him, the soft ripples raising gooseflesh along his arms and neck.

  As Lorian began to scrub at the dirt on his arms, a bar of hard soap and a small block of pumice appeared on the edge of the tub with a faint pop. He grabbed the soap and pumice without a second thought and began to scrub roughly at his skin. He needed to get the stench and grime of those dungeons off his body.

  The soap smelled of lavender and pine as it cleansed Lorian’s skin, and any dirt that swirled into the water quickly disappeared, keeping the bath clean. Lorian scrubbed everywhere, including his hair. A dark curl brushed the top of his shoulder and he looked down in surprise. His hair had gotten long since he’d been locked away. The dusty coating that had kept his hair brown for some time finally washed away into the natural raven black that it was meant to be. His fingers scrubbed against his itchy scalp, and brushed against the tips of his slightly pointed ears.

  The water was still warm by the time Lorian struggled out of the tub, the sun already set for the night and his fingers wrinkled from being submerged for so long. He looked down upon his now clean body and sighed, realizing he would have to crawl back into the tattered clothes he had been wearing for only the Nether knew how long.

  Maybe they’ll be miraculously mended and cleaned, he thought. But when Lorian approached the spot where he had left his clothes, they were nowhere in sight.

  “What in the Nether?” he muttered under his breath, and spun around in search of them.

  His clothing had simply disappeared. Lorian shook his head, water droplets spraying across the room with soft splattering sounds wherever they hit the walls and floor. A thought then entered his mind and he moved out of the bathing chamber and into the main bedroom. Perhaps the dresser against the far wall actually did contain clothes for his use.

  Lorian didn’t even have to search the dresser. A bundle of cloth was sitting neatly on the bed before him, and Lorian approached to find soft grey cotton pants and a tan-colored tunic folded beside each other. He glanced around the room, wondering who had brought him the new clothes. He then shrugged and grabbed the tunic and pants, quickly dressing despite the dampness of his skin. An almost maniacal grin spread across his face as the soft fabric settled over his emaciated body. The pants hung low on his hips, and the tunic was nearly three sizes too big. He tilted toward the bed, a sudden weariness sweeping over him like a blanket.

  And yet the growling and sharp pain that lanced through Lorian’s stomach made him realize how hungry he truly was. The image of roasted potatoes, mushrooms, and a large chunk of steaming bread drifted through his mind, and Lorian closed his eyes as his stomach growled painfully again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal.

  Seconds later, the smell of garlic and butter wafted into Lorian’s nose and he flung his eyes open. Lying atop the dresser was a plate filled with steaming food. Lorian turned and nearly ran toward it. He didn’t have time to think about what he was shoving into his mouth until he had already eaten nearly half of the plate’s contents. To his surprise, there were steaming baby potatoes and mushrooms lathered in butter and garlic sauce, along with a steaming loaf of bread. Lorian swallowed a large mouthful of potato, and then gingerly took up the plate in his hand and walked to the plush rug in front of the bed.

  Lorian ate the rest of his food in silent reverie, relishing every last bite of the first warm meal he had eaten in a long time. His stomach was full by the time he set the empty plate down onto the rug with a satisfied smile. It disappeared with a pop the second his fingers let go of it.

  Lorian sighed and looked around the room, his eyes suddenly drooping with sleepiness. It would be first light before Lorian knew it, and he would not get to sleep in an actual bed for only the goddesses knew how long. He got up with a groan and staggered over to the bed with exhaustion.

  Lorian pulled the silken covers back and slipped onto the plush mattress, a moan escaping his lips as he rested his damp head on the pillows. It felt like heaven. And to think that only that morning he had been stuck in a rotting dungeon thinking about all the ways he was going to die. He owed that commander his life. He had done this. And the girl— Lorian dared not think of her. His stomach lurched, and Lorian shook the thought of her full lips and angry eyes from his head. He would not sleep if he began to think about her. That could wait until the next day.

  The lights of the ruby chandelier began to dim, and Lorian swirled into a dreamless sleep.

  2

  Tedric

  Tedric awoke with a start, his body lurching upwards as the dream of his father’s anger-twisted face faded from his mind. He blinked as the chandelier in the center of the ceiling glowed to life.

  First light wouldn’t approach for another hour, but Tedric felt electric energy running through his veins nonetheless. Sleep would not be returning to him now, but he did not mind. He was used to waking up far before the sun rose. It had become a part of his daily life since he had been appointed commander of the Ten.

  Tedric shook the dream from his mind and climbed out of the large bed, padding toward a chair coated in red silk that he had laid his armor on before he went to bed. Yet when he approached, the skillfully made armor was gone and a simple dark leather breastplate waited in its place. He attempted to ignore the flutter of frustration in his abdomen as he picked up the armor and inspected it.

  The material was very light, and that made him nervous. There was no way that this simple scrap of leather would stand a chance against the beasts they were to face on this mission, though perhaps it was better to remain inconspicuous when traveling through other kingdoms, especially ones that were not friends of Keadora despite the peace law.

  Not even Tedric had attacked another living being without good reason, as the consequences of killing someone, thereby breaking the peace law, was not something that he wished to face. He shuddered at the words that had been nailed into his memory since he was a child. Break the law and you will be broken. No food shall satisfy you, nor will any liquid replenish your thirst. Any home you set foot into shall crumble, and love will be nothing but a distant memory. You will feel nothing but pain from the dissatisfaction of every day that you may live.

  Tedric fought off a shiver as he turned and opened the top drawer of the dresser he had placed his clothing in for the night, only to find that it too had been replaced by a fresh set. The tunic he pulled out was a forest green color and the pants a dull dark brown. He took them out with a shrug and pulled them on before turning back toward the silk chair that held his new armor.

  Tedric jolted in surprise as a water skin, an apparently empty leather satchel, his sword in a new scabbard, and a thick dark green cloak popped into existence. A smile played on his lips and he reached down to collect his new belongings. Even as a human, which was considered inferior to witches and treated as such, he loved magic.

  The castle was deathly quiet as Tedric strode down the windowless hallway, his booted steps echoing off the marble walls. The smell of roses drifted through the air and witchlight lined the upper walls, illuminating his way in a warm glow.

  Tedric paused as he approached a side door he typically went through to go to the main square. He huffed, the dream of his father entering his mind once more. He clenched his fists, turning toward a separate door on the wall across from him. He needed to see his father before he left to make sure the man was alive, and that, if he was, he wouldn’t drink himself to death from worry about Tedric’s absence.
>
  The cool predawn air kissed his cheeks as Tedric stepped out into a gravel courtyard. His heart lurched with longing at the sight of nine horses lined up a few yards ahead, the dark figures of men shifting in and out of sight as they prepared themselves for the morning watch. He strode toward them and smiled at the whispered jokes and conversation that passed through the men.

  “Gentlemen.” Tedric addressed the nine men and what would remain of the Ten while he was away on the mission.

  “Commander Drazak, how kind of you to see us off,” the man closest to him replied.

  He instantly recognized him as Bordin, the best archer in all of Keadora as far as Tedric was concerned. Bordin, who was ten years Tedric’s elder, had been the one who discovered Tedric hiding in the shadows and watching the Ten train eleven years ago. He quickly became one of Tedric’s mentors and closest friends as the years passed, as well as the one who had suggested Tedric as the best candidate for commander when Eldron perished.

  “I just wanted to make sure you would all be able to complete your daily tasks without me,” Tedric replied with a grin.

  Bordin grinned back, his green eyes barely visible in the coming light of morning. Tedric would need to be at the stables soon, but he still needed to make sure that his father knew he would be gone.

  “Is it your father?” Bordin asked quietly, so that the eight men behind them could not hear. “You won’t have time to see him, it’s nearly sunrise.”

  Tedric nodded. “I know.”

  “Listen, I can go to him after morning watch and tell him. Better that you are not late for your first day of saving the realm.”

  Tedric chuckled and clapped Bordin on the shoulder. The rest of Tedric’s men approached and nodded to their commander.

  “Do us a favor and stay alive. We need you back in one piece,” a man near the back said gruffly.

  Tedric recognized Griffin’s raspy voice, their scout and one of the newer members of the Ten. Tedric smiled, knowing that the scout’s words were as close to a goodbye as he would get from the man.