by Ben Hale
Jack crossed the street and entered the establishment. He coughed at the reek, and hoped the Thieves Guildhall was in better condition. Then he advanced toward a booth against the wall and took a seat. As he waited for the barmaid, he surveyed the crowd.
Only a handful of patrons sat in the tavern. Several in a corner were locked in quiet conversation, while one man lay slumped on a table. His form was so still Jack briefly wondered if he was dead. Then the man snored and shifted.
The barmaid approached and Jack dropped coins on the table for a meal. When it came the food was better than he expected, and he ate the bread and fried potatoes while continuing to survey the patrons. Over the next hour it became apparent that more hopefuls had decided to come early, with more than a dozen stepping through the door.
He idly watched them, picking out a few that might be worth notice. The loudest of the group was Talinorian. He laughed frequently and sought to engage others in conversation. Rather than friendly, his effort seemed forced, as if he were terrified of what was to come. Jack noticed the calluses on his hands and marked him as a former soldier.
The youngest of the group couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and her red hair was dirty as if she’d spent a lot of time on the road. Dressed in dark, form-fitting pants and a tunic, she seemed out of place in the tavern. Then he spotted the distinct lock-picking calluses on her fingers. She noticed his scrutiny and matched his gaze.
As the crowd thickened, Jack left and leapt to the roof. From within the shadow cast by the chimney he watched the road. Just as the sun touched the horizon Slyver appeared in the street. As before, Beauty and Brolan followed.
Jack slipped from the roof and entered a side door, leaning against the wall just as Slyver shouldered his way into the tavern. At his entrance the group fell silent. He smiled and surveyed them with a critical eye.
“Brolan,” he said, “check for listeners.”
The burly man cupped his hands together and then flicked them out. An orange bird burst from his fingers and soared about the room, banking around the astonished patrons before alighting on the man still slumped on a table. Emitting a quiet chirp it faded away.
“We’re clear,” Brolan said.
Slyver's condescending gaze swept the group. “If you want to turn back,” he said, “now's the time.”
Without waiting for a response he turned and exited, and Beauty and Brolan followed. A clatter of wood drew everyone's eye to the slumped man, who'd risen to his feet. Yawning, he strode out the door after Slyver. Jack chortled in surprise, as did the laughing man who followed the sleepy thief out. Jack hung back as the others stepped through the door, waiting until the redheaded girl came to a stop beside him.
“Sorry, beautiful,” Jack said. “But I believe custom requires you to go first.”
“I'm not a Lady,” she retorted with surprising heat, “so don't treat me like one.”
She slipped through the door like wisp of smoke, leaving Jack to bring up the rear. Once he was outside he was surprised when the man who’d slept the entire day fell into step beside him.
“Gordon,” he said, introducing himself with a yawn. “You?”
“Jack,” he replied.
“They found me asleep in a tavern in Keese,” he said. “Apparently the work I’d picked up with a smuggling operation had drawn their attention.”
Gordon waited for him to reciprocate but Jack didn’t. His silence caused Gordon to chuckle sourly.
“You sound like my wife.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never known a wife to be silent.”
“She was after she took my daughter and left,” he said.
He laughed at his own joke but it sounded strained and sad, prompting Jack to shrug. “Why not go after them and take her back?”
“The witch poisoned my daughter’s heart long before they left,” Gordon said.
“Then they don’t deserve you in their lives,” the girl said, looking back.
Gordon brightened at that comment. “What brings you to the guild, little one?”
“Don’t call me little,” she said, and turned away.
“I’m sorry,” Gordon said. “I merely meant you seem young to join a guild of thieves.”
The girl didn’t respond for a moment. Then she slowed her pace and came to his side. “I’m Ursana,” she said. “And I’m here because I have nothing else.”
“You choose a dangerous occupation,” Jack said. “Especially if the Machine is as lethal as I hear.”
“I’ve been preparing for a year to face it,” Ursana said, worry tightening her features. “But its kill rate is high enough to warrant fear.”
“You’ve trained for the Machine?” Jack asked, impressed and annoyed.
“Didn’t you?” Gordon asked.
“Training is a fast way to get bruised and broken,” Jack replied.
“True,” Gordon admitted. “But against the Machine it will save your life.”
“What do you know?” Jack asked.
“That a third of the thieves that attempt it don’t survive,” Ursana said. “It’s why the Thieves Guild is known for having the best.”
Gordon responded but Jack paid little mind to their words. Their bearing and faces told him all he needed to know. Ursana was a girl without friends or family. She’d survived on the streets well enough to merit an invitation to the guild, but she’d come because she wanted a home. The yearning for a family was evident in every look she cast upon the group of thieves.
In contrast, Gordon didn’t care about his own life. He’d lost his wife and daughter and they had taken his heart with them. Whatever man he’d been had been crushed by the loss, and now he’d come because he had nothing else to live for.
Some of the other hopefuls were obviously here because they wanted the glory of being guild thieves. A pair of surly dwarves seemed excited at the impending challenge, while the laughing man continued to banter with the other thieves. He tried to engage Beauty in conversation but made the mistake of commenting on her looks. She caught his hand and bent it backwards, eliciting a pained whine.
“Talk to me again and I’ll feed your tongue to the pigs.”
She released him and he scrambled away. Beauty watched him go and then her eyes met Jack’s. She dropped back and fell into step beside him. He piqued an eyebrow at her choice in position.
“I might start thinking you favor me.”
“You're not that handsome,” she retorted.
“We both know I am,” Jack said.
She ignored him but Ursana hid a smile, causing him to wink at her. He would have liked to speak more with Beauty, but she kept her distance as she brought up the rear. He noticed she kept her eyes trained on their back trail, searching for signs of pursuers.
For the rest of the afternoon the group of hopeful thieves followed Slyver out of the city and into the Sea of Grass. The thigh-high grass swayed with the breeze, bending in complicated patterns of green.
They did not use a trail or road, and instead pressed through the grass for several days. Each night the group camped in the open. Most of the thieves slept around the fire, but Jack and a few others chose to sleep further out. A week after departing Herosian they reached the swamp.
Filling the horizon, the bog lay steeped in a greenish mist. Moss flourished on trunk and limb, and furtive shadows flickered in the swamp’s depths. Slyver brought them to a halt at threshold of the mist.
“The Evermist Swamp,” he said, his voice sounding like a hunter referring to his favorite hound. “If you survive to join the guild you will learn its secrets, and know how to pass safely within. Quicksand and poison are abundant, as are the beasts that stalk the swamp. Do not deviate from the path or your body will never be found.”
He smirked as the hopefuls shifted nervously and then strode into the swamp. The mist swallowed him as if eager for the meal. Jack fell into step beside the others, cringing as the clammy liquid seeped into his clothing and covered his skin.
Dim light filtered into the bog through the oppressive canopy. The air hung heavy and dense and carried the scent of decay. One of the dwarves stumbled on a root and reached out to catch himself on a nearby branch.
It moved.
He cried out and snatched his hand back. The camouflaged snake was as thick as the dwarf’s head and emitted a hiss as it slithered away. The tail continued to pass them, revealing the breadth of the enormous reptile.
“You’re lucky,” Brolan said. “If it hadn’t already eaten, you would have been crushed and eaten by now.”
He clapped the stunned dwarf on the shoulder and strode on with a hearty laugh. The hopefuls were quick to fall into step behind him, and many followed in his footsteps exactly. They jumped at every sound coming from the swamp.
Jack grinned at their nervousness, but his humor faded when he spotted a human skull half buried in the mud. Holes pierced the bone from massive teeth, marking a violent death. Disliking the sudden sense of unease, Jack took to the trees.
He smiled as the mist thinned higher up and followed the group as they stumbled their way after Slyver and Brolan. Ursana and an elven hopeful seemed at ease, gliding through the bog without fear. The same could not be said of the others, and for once the laughing man was silent.
“You're supposed to stay with the group,” a voice said.
Jack turned to find Beauty leaning against a branch nearby, her lithe figure highlighted by the mist curling around her long legs. He shrugged at her words and gestured to the men and women stumbling along the path below.
“I like the vantage point,” he said.
With agility that did not match her human form, she leapt to a closer branch and crouched. “You should be wary of the swamp,” she said. “There are rayth cats that stalk their prey from above.”
“I have no fear of cats,” Jack replied with a smile.
She released a low chuckle and motioned forward. “Think you can keep up?”
He regarded her for a long moment, uncertain as to her shift in attitude towards him. Had she been ordered to talk to him? Or come of her own accord? He shrugged when he realized it didn’t matter. She was beautiful and he was curious.
“Always,” he said.
She grinned and leapt into the tree ahead. Jack followed, using the branches for balance and acceleration. His smile widened when he saw the hopefuls look up, their eyes filled with fear as Jack and Beauty rustled the branches above their heads. As the two passed beyond them, Jack turned his attention forward.
Branches and patches of mist blurred past him as he pursued Beauty. He avoided opportunities to catch up to her, and enjoyed the view of her sleek form gliding through the treetops. She dodged to the side and he followed suit. Then he spotted the gigantic snake coiled around a branch. A moment later she accelerated and leapt over a pond of murky water. He grinned as he followed her, and caught a glimpse of the sun as he reached the apex of his jump.
She looked back at him with a mixture of defiance and amusement. Accepting the silent challenge, he caught a branch and flipped onto a fallen tree. Balancing on the curved wood, he sprinted after her. After several minutes she slowed and dropped to the trail below. Jack joined her, gasping for breath through his smile. When he'd recovered, he gestured to the trees above.
“Do you always force your men to chase you?”
She laughed lightly. “Always.”
She pulled a water skin from her pack and uncorked it. Taking a long pull, she leaned against a tree.
“We should wait for the hopefuls here.”
“If you are expecting to take advantage of me, I am armed.”
She snorted and tossed him the water skin. He drank his fill and then returned it. He took a seat across from Beauty and studied her. There were several things he wanted to ask, but she spoke first.
“What’s your story, Jack?” she asked, her piercing gaze seeming to bore into skull.
He grinned and shook his head. “One kiss. One answer.”
She grunted in annoyance and looked away, but the emotion was not directed at him. Someone had sent her to try and ply him for information. The knowledge that they had thought Beauty would get him to talk brought a smile to his lips.
With the green mist swirling around the trees behind her, she seemed shrouded in mystery. Her dark blue eyes seemed to glow in the gloom of the swamp and studied him as if the inspection would reveal his secrets.
“The guild is more dangerous than it appears,” she finally said. “Are you certain you are ready?”
A grin spread on his features. “That depends. How much time do I get to spend with you?”
She released an explosive breath and anger filled her voice. “You are going to get yourself killed.”
“Your concern betrays your affection,” Jack replied with mock sincerity.
She growled at him and stood, but her retort was interrupted when faint footfalls brought him to his feet. A moment later Slyver appeared from the mist. His gaze flicked to Beauty but she shook her head, causing Slyver to frown.
Jack noticed the motion and realized it was Slyver that had sent Beauty to learn about Jack. The attempt was likely due to the lack of detail surrounding Jack’s past. The thieves did not know who he is, and that made him unpredictable.
“We value obedience over talent,” Slyver said, his gaze flicking to Jack. “And skill alone will not assure your survival as a thief.”
“As you order,” he said, his faint smirk robbing his voice of sincerity. Slyver growled in disgust and turned away, clearly disappointed at Beauty’s failure.
“Stay close,” he snapped, and then returned to the trail.
Jack couldn't stop the grin as he joined the group of hopefuls, his smile widening at their expressions of annoyance. Gordon seemed worried for him, while Ursana was busy examining the swamp. The laughing man attempted to engage him in conversation but Jack ignored him and he left. Then Jack slipped to the back and reluctantly remained on the ground.
The group camped in a secluded clearing, and then pressed on the following day. Nervousness at the menace of the swamp discouraged conversation, but the laughing man had regained his humor, evoking the ire of many. That afternoon they reached their goal.
“We're here,” Slyver said, and came to a halt.
Jack stepped to his side and the fog parted to reveal a stretch of water. His eyes widened as he saw the castle rising from the midst of the lake. Brolan joined him and grinned at his expression.
“Welcome to the Thieves Guild, Jack.”
Chapter 5: The Machine
Slyver stepped to a tree and reached into a hollow to grasp a lever. He yanked it into view, and a dull clanking echoed from beneath the lake. The hopefuls gasped as a bridge ascended from the depths. It broke the surface and water cascaded off the sides before it locked into place. Slyver strode onto it, gesturing to the lake.
“I wouldn't recommend swimming.”
Jack watched the alligators glide across the surface in parallel to the thieves. Several opened their jaws and hissed, causing the thieves to huddle closer. He frowned, surprised at the behavior, until he realized the animals had likely been trained to eat humans. This realization sobered him, and the smile faded from his face.
Do not forget your purpose, he reminded himself.
Wreathed in mist, the citadel rose before them, its turrets larger than they had appeared from the shore. Moss and vines covered the walls, blending with the mist until it became difficult to discern one from the other.
The bridge ended at an alcove in the wall of the fortress, and Brolan pulled another lever to lower the bridge back out of sight. As it disappeared into the lake Slyver swung a door open and led them into a corridor inside.
Jack had expected the halls of the fortress to be as dank as the swamp, but instead they were pristine. The stones had been painted white with blue accents, giving the fortress a regal look. Most of the hopefuls relaxed at the atmosphere, but Jack had the opposite reac
tion. Order in such a place bespoke a guildmaster both controlling and disciplined, a lethal combination.
Down a side corridor he spotted a woman washing the floor. She looked up as he passed, and her expression carried such despondent apathy that he saw her for what she was, a slave. Slaves had been banned for years by most of the races, so to see them in the guildhall was disturbing.
Slyver led the group down the corridor and past several doors before ascending a winding staircase. Then he shifted direction and stepped into a giant chamber. His expression turned smug as he gestured to the enormous wall dominating the space.
“Your initiation into the guild begins here,” he said, “at the Machine.”
Over three hundred feet tall, the Machine reached to the ceiling of the chamber. Each of the five sections had been built for climbing—yet intended to kill. Magic and mechanical traps dotted the uneven surface of the wall, becoming more and more numerous with each level.
Blades of every size and shape protruded at random intervals, curving, spinning, and swinging. Bursting out of hidden gaps, they shredded the air before sinking out of sight. Random, deadly, and impossible to predict, they were just a fraction of the Machine's traps.
Hidden darts, explosive stonesap, and poison were visible on the wall. Nests of spiders, stone crushers, and magical deterrents added to the pockmarked surface. Metal sections glowed red hot and others ice white. The Machine seeped with lethal intent.
And then it moved.
In a grinding of gears, each of the five layers rotated in opposite directions. If a climber held on for too long, the Machine would carry them to the edge, where blasts of fire would roast them alive. Or they could risk the long fall to the unforgiving stone below.
“This is the overseer, Forn,” Slyver said, and motioned to an approaching thief. “For those of you that survive, I look forward to welcoming you to the guild.”
Laughing at the sudden fear among the group, he turned and departed. Beauty and Brolan went with him but Brolan paused to clap Jack on the shoulder.