by C. Greenwood
THIEF’S FALL
MAGIC OF DIMMINGWOOD, BOOK TWO
C. Greenwood
Copyright © 2017 C. Greenwood
Edited by Victory Editing
Formatted by Polgarus Studios
Cover art by Michael Gauss
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excepting brief review quotes, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, real events, locations, or organizations is purely coincidental.
For all the thieves in my den.
THIEF’S FALL
MAGIC OF DIMMINGWOOD, BOOK TWO
Discovered. Destroyed. Reborn.
After losing his brother and being murdered by his enemies, Rideon thought there was nothing left that could hurt him. But he soon discovers life only gets more dangerous after death. Restored by magic, he must trek through a hostile wilderness while stalked by a deranged wild man. His only possessions, a cursed bow and a powerful amulet, prove as treacherous as they are necessary.
Driven by the need to find his young brother before their enemies reach the boy first, Rideon must enter dangerous territory and risk the wrath of the ruthless thieves’ guild and its cunning king.
* * *
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PROLOGUE
My enemies are closing in again. I have set myself against nobles and thieves alike, and now both have cause to seek my blood. I don’t know from which direction the next blow will fall. All I know is that it’s coming.
Worse than the outside danger is the threat from within, the betrayal of my mind as memory fails. Recollections of my golden childhood and even the shadowed years in the tower grow dim. The magic amulet dangling from a chain around my neck might as well be a hot coal burning into me. Would my thoughts be this fragmented if I took it off? It doesn’t matter. I don’t dare. After all that has happened, I now realize how dependent I am on the very thing that hurts me.
That is why I preserve the sacred memories of the past and of my lost family in the only way left to me. I sit alone in the failing light filtering through the smudged glass of the nearby window and scribble in this little book a record of all that has happened. I dwell especially on events of the past few weeks.
Raucous noises, the chants and jeers of men and the snarls of beasts, come from the room below. But I try not to hear them. There is much to record, and the daylight to write it in grows weaker. In more ways than one, my time is running out.
CHAPTER ONE
A warm breeze stirred through the green branches overhead and scattered loose leaves across my path. The great boughs creaked in the wind, and the surrounding underbrush rustled. Somewhere in the distance, a wood bobber could be heard pecking at a tree. No other sounds met my ears as I trudged through the unfamiliar wood. Dappled sunlight streamed through the canopy above, its golden patterns dancing across the forest floor.
But I was in no mood to be cheered by my peaceful, new surroundings or even by the surprising fact that I was still alive when all reason suggested I shouldn’t be.
I had been briefly dead according to the strange old riverwoman who put me ashore on the banks of the creek earlier this morning. Not that I believed her odd ramblings. She was an eccentric creature, probably mad, but at least kindly. She had let me spend last night on her raft and had fed me a final meal only a few hours ago. Then she had tried to discourage me from leaving her to set off into the forest. Perhaps she thought I needed more time to recover from my near drowning.
But I wouldn’t be dissuaded from going. I could afford no delay. Not when everything in me shouted of desperation to get back to my brother. I had thought of nothing else since regaining consciousness after the old woman fished me out of the lake yesterday. I had leapt off the city wall and into that mist-shrouded lake to escape men who were trying to murder me. The jump saved me from my enemies, but it separated me from my brother Ferran and from our only ally, a magicker girl named Ada. It also “killed me,” in the words of the old riverwoman, who claimed only her magic amulet had restored my life.
I was grateful for the intervention of this strange passerby on her raft despite her nonsensical ideas. But I was also frantic to return to the city that the water carried us away from. When I had last seen Ferran and Ada, they were in danger. I had drawn off their pursuers but feared the enemy had returned to the chase after failing to capture me. For all I knew they might already be in the clutches of our foes.
The sooner I cut through this Dimmingwood that stood in my way, the sooner I could rescue them. Unfortunately, the forest seemed determined to thwart me.
I paused and tried to decide whether I was heading along the right route. I was no woodsman. One tree looked like another. Without a clear path to follow, I had only my sense of direction to tell me the way back to the city of Selbius.
I pushed on, hoping for the best, because it was all I could do. My stomach was already rumbling with hunger again, making me wish I had accepted the dried biscuits the riverwoman tried to send with me. But I didn’t like to take her food when she obviously had so little.
Thinking of the old woman made me look down at her gift to me, the magical amulet now dangling from its cord around my neck. I couldn’t deny there was something powerful about the object even if I didn’t fully believe it had brought me back to life. A strange energy seemed to crackle in the air around the charm. When I gazed into its depths, it swirled with an inner light.
I was distracted from my uneasy contemplation of the amulet by a sudden flare of heat spreading across my back. It wasn’t just the natural warmth of sunshine filtering through the trees. This was a heat I was growing all too familiar with. It instantly sparked alarm.
I stopped in my tracks. The magic bow slung across my back only flared to life like this when there was danger nearby. But everything around me seemed peaceful. I was surrounded by towering trees. There was a tangle of brambles up ahead and a steep hill to one side of me. I saw nothing to fear from any direction.
Then something moved in the bushes up ahead. A tall, threatening shape detached itself from the brambles and stepped into my path. I hardly knew what I was looking at. My first instinct told me it was a man. But I had never seen a human being as wild-looking as this. Although he was only half-clothed, the unnerving stranger was covered in so much dirt hardly any patches of skin could be seen. His hair and beard were matted and overgrown. Combined with his height, this gave him an almost bearlike appearance.
I drew my bow around before remembering it was useless. I had lost my quiver of arrows in the lake yesterday. All the same, holding the faintly glowing limb of the bow in my hands was reassuring. I calmed enough to think rationally. I had seen beggars before. More than likely this was just some unfortunate soul, wandering in the wild.
And yet there was something menacing in the semicrouched way he approached me.
“Hello stranger. Can I help you?” I called, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
He didn’t answer. Now that he was closer, I had an unnerving view of his eyes, which were wide and held no light of reason. I doubted he understood my greeting. Instead, his full attention seemed fixed on my hand.
I realized the sunlight was glinting off my ring. My father’s signet was worn over my thumb. The dazzling sheen seemed to fascinate the stranger.
Suspecting his intention, I gripped my bow like a staff and planted my feet firmly.
“I think you’ve come close enough,” I warned him. “Stay back.”
The only response the wild man gave
was to draw something from his belt. It wasn’t quite a knife but a twisted piece of jagged metal with a strip of cloth bound around it as a handle.
Before I could draw another breath, he lunged at me, the sharp metal clutched in his fist.
With the steep ridge to one side of me, I couldn’t dodge aside. I could only stand my ground. Instinctively I raised the bow to defend myself, blocking his attack and striking his wrist with the wooden limb of the bow. I heard the satisfying crack of wood striking flesh. The jagged weapon flew from my assailant’s hand to land on the ground a little distance away.
That was when I made the mistake of lowering my guard, thinking that, unarmed, my enemy was less dangerous.
But the wild man hardly seemed to notice the loss of his knife. The blow to his wrist must have smarted, but it didn’t slow him down.
He leapt straight at me.
Frozen in surprise, I stood unmoving as he latched onto my shoulders with thick clawlike hands. I felt his hot, foul breath on my skin, glimpsed his teeth, filed sharp like fangs, descending. Then he sank his teeth into my neck.
Pain seared through the side of my neck as if my flesh had been pierced by hot needles. With a startled cry, I struck out with my bow, jabbing my attacker in the belly. Grunting at the sharp blow, he unclamped his jaw, releasing his hold. Something wet ran down my neck and shoulder.
My enemy fell back just long enough to snatch up his twisted metal weapon from the ground. Then he came at me again. This time I didn’t anticipate his attack quickly enough. In a single, swift motion, he brought the knife up and slashed it across my thigh. Metal slid across flesh, and instantly red sprayed from the wound.
I stumbled backward, unbalanced by the throbbing pain. My back foot didn’t come down onto solid ground. There was nothing but empty air behind me. Too late I remembered the ridge.
I tumbled backward down the hill, blue sky and green grass changing places so fast I couldn’t tell up from down. It was a steep slope, and there was no chance of stopping my forward motion. I struck rocks and saplings as I rolled down, each blow only adding to the confusion of pain. Finally I came to rest against a fallen log.
There I lay still as treetops and patches of blue spun crazily above me. As soon as I could take in my surroundings, I realized I had reached the bottom of the hill. Miraculously, my bow was still clutched in my hand. I didn’t know how I had kept hold of it.
There was a heavy crushing sound, as if something large moved through the underbrush higher up the hill. The wild man!
I couldn’t lie here and wait for him to come down after me. I had to get away. I scrambled clumsily to my feet, only to find I could hardly stand. The biting pain in my thigh was nothing to the throbbing in my neck where the madman had sunk his teeth into me.
The sounds of approach were getting closer. In another moment the lunatic would break free of the screen of bushes above and spot me.
Dazed from both the pain and the fall, I leaned on my bow as if the wooden limb was a walking stick. I hobbled toward a nearby stand of brambles and unhesitatingly dropped down among them. The sting of a thousand little thorns pricking and scratching against my skin was nothing compared to the deeper pain I’d already suffered.
No sooner had the rustling thornbushes closed over me than my attacker burst into view. I watched him through the wall of brambles between us. He paused briefly near the fallen log at the base of the hill, looking in all directions. I held my breath, realizing I had left a blood trail leading from log to brambles. If my enemy found me now, I had no doubt he would kill me. I was dizzy and bloodied and not fit for another fight.
Luckily, his crazed eyes never looked at the red-stained ground. Instead, he sniffed the air like an animal.
Could he smell the tang of fresh blood? For a second I was sure he could.
Then the moment passed and he hurried off, swiftly disappearing among the trees.
As soon as my enemy was gone, I stumbled back out of the brambles. My leg was going numb. I ripped a long strip of fabric off the bottom of my cloak and tied it hastily around the gash in my thigh. That seemed to slow the blood flow, although it made it no easier to walk. I needed to get out of here before that madman came back to finish me off. But where could I go? I was unfamiliar with this forest and so confused after my tumble down the hill that I had lost all sense of direction.
Nevertheless, I chose a path and set out limping, leaning on my bow and dragging my injured leg behind me. Even as I struggled along, I never took my attention off the surrounding trees, expecting at any instant to come face-to-face with my attacker again.
CHAPTER TWO
I didn’t know how much time had passed before I reached a resting place. It felt like hours but might have been only minutes. I had lost so much blood it was becoming hard to think straight. Just when I was about to give up and collapse to the ground, I spotted it—a hiding place.
It was a tall heap of red rocks formed into a cave in the center of a small clearing. Uphill was a shallow stream that tumbled over the red rocks and down the cave’s side in a splashing waterfall before settling into a deep pool edging the clearing.
The yawning mouth of the cave beckoned to me, its shadowed interior seeming to offer safety. I limped across the clearing and ducked inside. Immediately I felt less exposed to unfriendly eyes. I only hoped the cave’s close quarters wouldn’t prove to be a trap where I could neither fight nor flee if the madman suddenly appeared.
Unused to the dimness after the bright world outside, I couldn’t make out much of my surroundings. All I could tell was that I was in a small cavern with an offshooting tunnel that stretched back deeper into the rocks. I didn’t try to follow it. I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I collapsed just inside the entrance of the cave.
I became aware my shoulder was sticky and the front of my tunic soggy. Maybe my worst blood loss wasn’t coming from the wound in my thigh. My searching fingers found fresh blood trickling from the place where the flesh of my neck had been torn by my enemy’s teeth. My last conscious act was to tear another piece of cloth from my cloak, wad it up in my fist, and press it against the neck wound to stop the bleeding. Dazed but vaguely aware it was important to keep up the pressure, I fought the confusion and rising darkness threatening to claim me. If I let myself slip away, I might never come back.
But it was no good. Weakness stole over me, and I could no longer hold on.
* * *
When next I woke, I struggled to remember where I was. Then it came back to me in a flash. The madman’s attack, the wounds I had suffered, and the need to conceal myself in the cave lest he strike again.
Carefully I explored the sore area on the side of my neck and found the blood was no longer wet but dry and crusty. The bleeding must have stopped at some point while I slept.
Some time must have passed since my arrival here because there was no longer a visible glow of daylight from the outdoors. I was in total darkness. I shivered, finding the rough stone floor beneath me had grown cold with the coming of night.
As I stirred, I heard a soft crunching sound at my movements. I realized I was lying amid a pile of dry leaves that had accumulated in the mouth of the cave, blown in by the wind. I had just enough strength to scoop these over me, creating a blanket of leaves to keep out a little of the chill. Then I lay back, exhausted by my feeble effort.
I mustn’t rest. I must think, plan for tomorrow. But my thoughts were cloudy and it was difficult to focus. Waves of drowsiness lapped over me, and I was swiftly submerged again into a sea of shadows.
* * *
The days that followed passed in a blur. Sometimes I woke to find it was light out, other times dark. I hardly knew when one day ended and the next began. Only the aching of my empty stomach indicated how long I had been here. As I slipped in and out of a dreamlike state, I had lucid moments where I realized the dangerous position I was in, the blood I had lost, and the infection that might set in.
During those waking hours,
I remembered my mission to return to Selbius. It was urgent I get back to my little brother before harm could befall him. He depended on me.
The events leading up to this time played through my memory, drifting in and out of my mind’s eye in scattered fragments. I saw again my escape with Ferran from the Eyeless Tower, the site of our father’s execution. Like a distant observer, I witnessed our flight from the province of Camdon, the pursuit of many enemies, and our meeting with the magicker girl named Ada. We had escaped a vengeful noble, tangled with a guild of thieves, and outrun a pair of villains working for a mysterious master determined to use us for dark purposes. Last of all, we had been separated and I was forced to leave Ferran unprotected just when he needed me most.
I remembered much of this with difficulty, sifting through events and ordering them in my mind like scattered pieces of a puzzle. Was it my weakness or something else that created this haze of confusion surrounding my memories? Even in my muddled state, I was aware of the magic amulet weighing heavily around my neck. It felt like a foreign, vaguely troubling presence. Had it really brought me back to life as the old riverwoman claimed?
Whether my “rebirth” had really happened or not, it seemed to have become one of the natural markers where I mentally divided my life into parts. There was my happy childhood before imprisonment in the tower, a golden era where my family lived in peace. Then came two years of suffering, followed by the time of escape, the time where I became my new self—Rideon. And last of all, now came the time after my death by drowning. Strangely enough, this time after death seemed to be the most dangerous of all.
The madman was still out there somewhere, barring my way to Selbius even if I was well enough to continue the journey. I knew I wasn’t. I would be easy prey in this condition. No, I must remain here until I recovered my strength. That was clear to me if nothing else was.