by Ben Hale
“What do you care?” Jack demanded, pulling a shirt over his head and rising to his feet.
“She reminds me of my daughter.”
Jack stopped and looked at him. “She’s not.”
“I think I like it better when you’re apathetic. At least then you aren’t cruel to a little girl.”
Jack's expression clouded but Gordon exited and shut the door. Rising, Jack dressed in merchant's garb. Then he collected his pack and descended to the tavern below. Downstairs he found his companions sharing a meal. He was surprised to see that it was lunch rather than breakfast. Collecting his own plate, he joined them and they ate in silence. When he finished he shoved the plate away and stood.
“We have an assignment to complete.”
Chapter 15: The Assassin Guildhall
They made their way to the waterfront of Terros and from there found a tavern that overlooked the shipyard. Within minutes of their arrival a swarthy elf sank into a seat beside them, a scowl on his face.
“You're late.”
“Master Orathan, I presume,” Jack said.
The elf was not what Jack had expected as the master of the Terros guildhall. Short for his race and not as fair, the elf reminded Jack of a tunic after it had been worn too often and washed too seldom. His teeth were a shade lighter than ash, matching the shadow under his eyes.
“We had a stop to make,” Jack said. He flashed a disarming smile and took a seat.
The elf sneered in disgust. “You pampered whelps wanted a sleep and a wash.”
Jack laughed at the accusatory tone, unperturbed that the master knew where they had been. “Can you blame us?”
Orathan growled at the nonchalance in Jack's voice, his eyes flicking to Gordon and Ursana before settling on Jack once again.
“Charm won't help you on this assignment,” he said, and gestured out the window into the harbor. “The assassins guard their location with extreme care, so your mere presence in the lighthouse will invite swift retribution.”
Jack shifted in his seat to look through the window. Shaped like a great crescent, the harbor contained hundreds of docks jutting out into the water. Ships of every type and shape dotted them, with sailors and dockhands shouting to each other.
A quarter mile out to sea an outcropping of rock provided the foundation for a towering lighthouse. Jack knew from his time in Terros that a trio of elves were on contract from Azertorn, and used their magic to illuminate the wharf at night and during storms. He'd never had cause to go there, and assumed it to be purely utilitarian.
A faint smile crossed his face as he realized the audacity and cunning of the assassin's guild. The refuge provided access without drawing attention. Anyone passing by would assume it served a sole purpose while it's true meaning lay hidden beneath.
“You go in tonight,” Master Orathan said, “when they depart to hunt their targets. We know four are out of the city completing contracts, and the remaining two are likely to be absent. It appears they are courting a new assassin named Tronis to fill a vacancy in their guild.”
“They do not guard their home?”
“They do not need to,” Orathan said. “The fortress within contains its own protections, and only a handful know its location.”
“How many have achieved entry?” Ursana asked.
“Several of our people have penetrated their defenses over the years,” Orathan said, “but few have emerged alive. Those that do are hunted and killed.”
“Is that why we have this assignment?” Jack asked, anger seeping into his voice. “Because we’re expendable?”
“What if you are?” Orathan said. “You have your assignment. Now complete it before more of the assassins return.”
“Aren't you a fearless leader,” Jack said, “Sending others to die for you. Ero would be so proud . . .”
Orathan's expression blackened with fury. “Do as you are told, Jack, or I will have you cast into the rayth pit.”
“Still sending others to die like a coward,” Jack said. Gordon smirked and even Ursana cracked a smile. Orathan nearly exploded.
“At least I’ll get to see you squirm,” he said acidly.
Jack caught the note of anticipation in his words and smiled. “Care to elaborate?”
Orathan sneered at Jack but held his tongue. “A boat will meet you on the sixty-seventh dock. Be there at midnight.”
Before Jack could respond Orathan rose and stomped from the tavern, eliciting looks of curiosity from the other patrons. In the ensuing quiet Gordon began to chuckle.
“Do you anger everyone you meet?”
“Anger has a way of loosening tongues,” Jack said with a grin.
“And getting your throat slit,” Ursana said, but her lips were curved into a smile.
Jack's gaze flicked between them, amused at the sudden sense of camaraderie.
“So what do you suggest we do while we wait for nightfall?” Gordon said, folding his arms.
He and Ursana looked at Jack expectantly, so Jack stared at the lighthouse to buy himself time. On his own he would scour the streets, plying his contacts for information on the assassin's guild. That would probably just alert the assassins to the impending strike. A sly smile crossed his face and he turned back to the others.
“I think it’s time we get a drink.”
They frowned in unison. “How is that going to help us?” Ursana asked.
“Men that drink gossip more than a farmer's wife. Take a district and learn what you can in the taverns.”
Gordon's frown lessened, and he reached into a pouch at his side to withdraw three wrinkled berries. Their color resembled vomit and the scent caused Jack to wrinkle his nose.
“We don't need to poison them,” Jack said.
Gordon jerked his head. “These are for you. Eat them and you won't suffer the effects of ale for several hours. Getting information won't help us if we get impaired by the process.”
Jack grinned and accepted one. Ursana hesitated before accepting hers. She waited for him to put it in his mouth before following suit. Jack gagged on it, nearly spitting it onto the table.
“You could have given a warning.”
Gordon's grin widened. “Thieves that give warning—”
“I know the saying,” Jack snapped. “We'll meet here after dark. Remember, don't draw attention to yourselves.”
They parted ways and Jack wound his way to the Gold District. The area was rife with lords, merchants, and craftsman, just the type of citizens that would gossip about the seedy underbelly of society. After an hour he found a merchant willing to talk in return for Jack filling his mug. When he'd gotten all he could Jack moved on.
His persona of a merchant from western Talinor earned him a place at several tables. His feigned drunkenness and willingness to share his coin earned him gossip. From tavern to inn he passed throughout the Gold District and gradually a framework of truth emerged.
The assassin's guild always had seven members, and when one was killed they would gather to choose another. A few years past a major event had resulted in the emergence of a new leader. At just fifteen Gallow carried a killer's soul. One woman even claimed his eyes were the window to Skorn's domain.
Of the guildhall itself he learned little. Speculation was rampant as to its location, and a pair of guards even insinuated it lay within the king's own castle. Jack learned the most from an old bartender. Shrewd and greedy, the woman told a tale of a thief who'd attempted to steal from the guild and come out with his eyes scored from his skull.
After night fell Jack left the district behind with more questions than answers. Returning to the tavern on the waterfront, Jack waited for the others. Gordon joined him first and Ursana stepped to their table soon after.
“What did you learn?” Jack asked.
“That the assassins are Skorn's devil minions and walk the earth in search of souls to steal,” Gordon said, and huffed in amusement at the absurd suggestion. He tapped his coin pouch, which tinkled light
ly. “Nearly everything I have is gone and that was the best tale I heard.”
Jack turned to Ursana, who shook her head. “Not much better,” she murmured. “But one man insisted they guard their vault with a herd of rabid deer.”
“Deer?” He laughed and then thought better of it. “Perhaps they mean entities.”
Master Orathan had suggested the guildhall contained sentries of a sort, and the assassins would never rely on humans to fill that role. The entity spell brought material to life, and was nearly impossible to kill unless one possessed the same type of magic.
He shared what he’d learned while they ate. When finished they continued to talk until the barmaid ushered them out at closing. Since it was close to midnight, Jack led them to the chosen spot and they slipped into an alley.
“I don't like this,” Gordon muttered. “We have no information on what we might face, and we're being forced to execute an assignment without time to prepare.”
Ursana grunted in agreement. “I thought joining the guild would make me a better thief, not a stupider one.”
“Everything about this feels off,” Jack said in a harsh whisper. “With such an assignment I would think someone would have given us more information.”
“You heard Master Orathan,” Ursana said. “Perhaps they don't know.”
Gordon shook his head. “No, Jack's right. They aren't telling us the whole truth.”
Elusive, the answer seemed to hover at the edge of Jack's mind but failed to come clear. “I know we are more comfortable working alone, but I'd like to finish this assignment with my head on my shoulders. Watch my back and I'll watch yours.”
“Aye,” Gordon said, and Ursana bobbed her head.
A splash of water drew their eye to a small boat gliding in from the darkness. A single rower maneuvered it to the chosen pier and then settled in to wait. Jack reluctantly exited the shadows and strode to the boat. Jack didn't recognize the rower, but the man seemed content to keep it that way. Once they were on board, Gordon pushed them off the pier and the man took over, easing them past a shipping boat and into the night sea.
Blocked by patchy clouds the moon failed to illuminate the water's surface. The sea lay calm, lapping at the sides of their boat with each sweep of the oars. As soon as they were out of earshot of the waterfront, Jack leaned forward.
“What's your name, thief?”
The man opened his mouth to reveal he lacked a tongue. Jack reined in the surge of anger and swiveled on his bench to face his companions. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice so only they would hear.
“It appears we are on our own.”
Gordon's jaw set and Ursana looked away. Jack gnawed on his doubt until the boat nudged against the solitary pier jutting out from the outcropping of rock. The thief slave motioned them off, and once they had exited he pulled on the oars and turned. A moment later the boat slid into the darkness and disappeared.
Jack took the lead, climbing the steps that had been cut into the rock bluff. The staircase coiled around the stone like a vine around a tree trunk. Several times Jack found the passage narrow enough that he was forced to slow his pace. Even with his enhanced night vision he had trouble making out the dark stone at his feet. A muttered curse came from Gordon when he tripped and smashed his knee.
Jack slowed when they neared the summit of the rock, the lighthouse coming into view. Scanning the area for movement, he ascended to the top and glided into the shadow cast by the towering structure. He stayed alert but no sound touched his ears except the distant splash of water far below.
He motioned Ursana to the door and the girl slid into place, a set of lock picks appearing in her hand. Jack shifted to guard her opposite flank until the lock gave with a muffled click. Then he eased the door open, listening for a creak from the hinges. When no sound betrayed them, he led them into the stygian darkness. Gordon shut the door behind them, and the sound of it closing echoed like the whisper of death's cloak.
Chapter 16: Sentinels
Jack withdrew his lightstone and brushed the rune. A dim light cascaded from it, filling the room enough for them to see they stood in an empty entranceway. A spiral staircase wound its way up the exterior and ended at a door. The muffled sounds of conversation signaled the elven mages that operated the lighthouse were present.
The space contained a second staircase, one that disappeared into the rock below. Jack stepped to it and cautiously descended into a cellar. Once inside he gestured to Gordon to remain at the steps.
“Keep your eyes up,” he said.
Gordon came to a halt and turned his gaze upward, allowing Jack and Ursana to search the room. Large and open, the space contained barrels of ale and wine, as well as crates of cured meats and salted vegetables. Likely intended to last the elves during a storm, the supplies were stacked around the exterior of the room. After several minutes of searching, Jack and Ursana reconnected at the center of the space.
Jack read the answer in her eyes and released an annoyed breath. “It must be here. Go up and search the outside. Take Gordon with you.”
She nodded and slipped past Gordon, who fell into her wake. While they were gone Jack searched the room again, even going so far as to shift every barrel and crate to see if they were false. They proved real, leaving Jack standing in the center of the room once more.
Jack risked increasing the light from the stone and scanned the room. It looked to be exactly as it appeared, an old storeroom. Then his eyes fell on the triangular alcove beneath the stairs. Its size and shape made it ill-suited for storing goods. Jack had searched it before, but this time he covered every inch.
He ran his fingers along the walls and the underside of the stairs, searching for hidden triggers or locks. Then he tested the floor. Just as the others returned, he stepped on a stone and heard it. A smile crossed his face and he stepped on it again.
“What?” Gordon asked.
“It's wood,” Jack replied, and crouched to feel it with his hands. “It may be overlaid with stone, but its wood underneath. Listen.”
Jack put his weight on it again and heard the unmistakable creak of wood. It was faint, but his enhanced hearing had caught the variation. As he tested the boundaries of the section Ursana shook her head.
“I don't hear anything.”
“You wouldn't,” Jack replied.
After testing the stones he realized that several contained the wood beneath, collectively large enough for a trapdoor. Then he found the catch, or rather the first one. Buried in the mortar at the base of the wall, a single piece of wood stuck out. Touching and pressing it did nothing—until he found the secondary catch hidden beneath one of the steps. He smiled and pressed the two triggers at the same time.
A faint grinding came from the floor and the section of stone slid to the side. The opening revealed a ladder descending to a secret level. Jack grinned and eased himself onto it. Entering the assassin guildhall sparked an extreme wariness in him, and he took his time with each step, searching for hidden traps or triggers. On the fifth step he found a trap and passed it by. A glance upward revealed the other two had seen him skip it and they nodded in unison.
Once on the bottom he turned to find himself in the end of a teardrop-shaped chamber. The opposite end contained a golden statue with enormous diamonds as eyes. The way they protruded begged for a thief to pluck them like ripe fruit.
“What do you bet those diamonds contain a sundering hex?” Ursana murmured, descending to join him.
“It appears we know where the thief got his eyes burned out,” Gordon said, dropping to her side.
“I don't see another door,” Jack said.
“There wouldn't be one,” Ursana said, using the exact same tone Jack had used before. “If someone made it this far without knowing the assassin's guild lay beneath, it's possible they would not attempt to search further.”
“A secret within a secret,” Gordon said, his voice approving.
“What about those?” Jack asked, and
gestured to decorations on the walls. “I suppose we found the rabid guardians.”
The heads of deer had been mounted on the walls, three to a side. Each boasted eight points on the antlers. They seemed out of place as decorations in such a place, but Jack suspected they were a warning to anyone that knew the true nature of the room. The assassins were hunters of men, and wanted intruders to know how they viewed them.
“It appears they left another trap,” Jack said, and pointed to the series of holes spread across the two walls.
“A needle trap?” Gordon asked. “I would have expected something more elaborate.” He extended a foot to the obvious pressure plate.
“Wait!” Ursana and Jack said in unison, but it was too late, Gordon had already pressed on it and yanked his foot back.
“What?” Gordon asked. “The needles will explode throughout the room and then it should be safe to cross.”
But the needles did not come. Then movement caught Jack’s eye and he looked up—to find one of the deer staring at him. One by one the six deer heads turned to face the trio of thieves, their jaws opening to reveal fangs. Then they began to buck, wrenching themselves from the wall. Stone cracked and crumbled to reveal withered bodies straining to escape. A distorted deer cry escaped their lips, high-pitched and menacing. The sound caused the trapdoor above them to slide home, trapping them in the chamber.
“Fool,” Jack growled and drew his crossbow and dagger.
“How was I supposed to know what it did?”
“No trap is a good trap,” Ursana spit the words at him.
Gordon growled at them and drew his own weapon, a curved short sword. “Flank them if you can,” he snapped. “I'll take the brunt of their assault.”
Jack glanced at him and saw guilt written on the man's features. To stay invited them to attack him, and there was no way he could defend against them all. Jack aimed his crossbow at the nearest deer and fired a bolt of fire. It struck the deer's head and exploded into flames. The attack only seemed to anger it. Howling, it tore at the wall, striking so hard that one of its antlers broke free and fell to the floor.