by Ben Hale
Gardens littered the ground below, dominating the space between great halls. Music wafted from the windows of one, while another structure appeared military in nature. Then he spotted the mage guildhall.
Hundreds of trees intertwined their branches to form the sprawling structure with dozens of peaked domes. Lights of every color brightened and faded within the wood, making the trees glow as if the trees contained luminescent sap.
“Ostentatious, don't you think?” Lorelia said wryly. They stopped on a gardened terrace with a view of the mage guildhall. She giggled and leaned close so the other elves walking about would not hear. “Elves like to compensate for their lack of stature.”
Jack glanced at an elf walking by. Dressed in a bright green tunic and well-tailored slacks, he was a perfect example of an elf, tall and slender, but lacked the size and strength of a human.
“You just referred to yourself as well,” Jack pointed out.
She delivered her signature laugh and straightened, accentuating the distinct curves on her body.
“Do I look like I need to compensate?” she asked.
“Er . . . no,” he said.
She laughed again, clearly pleased that she'd managed to disconcert him. Oddly, he felt like he'd just lost a point in a game.
“What's our target? A lord or lady, perhaps?”
She shook her head, bouncing her blond hair across her shoulders. “Here we call it a hunt. Since you challenged, I get to choose three targets. We both have until midnight to return. The more creative the steal and the more valuable the item, the more chance you have of besting the other.”
He folded his arms. “That's not exactly what I said.”
“Are you withdrawing your challenge?” She feigned a pout, but it only made her more attractive—which was probably the point.
“Do you always hide your intelligence behind that pretty face?”
Her features turned pink for an instant, and he grinned. One point to me. He began to suspect the flirtatious minx was merely a persona.
“How often have you done this?” he asked.
“Enough to know I win,” she said. He'd set her on edge with his previous question, but now her eyes gleamed with delight.
“What are the items?” he asked with a sigh.
“A lady's heart, a man's soul, and a soldier's weapon. Meet back at the hall by midnight.”
He folded his arms at her ready answer. “You already know what you’re going to steal, don't you?”
She laughed at his accusation. “I'll give you a head start,” she said. Then she sprinted away with a giggle. “Or not!”
He turned toward the ocean and raced away, his thoughts on Lorelia. She was young, but since elves could live for hundreds of years, that didn't mean much. She seemed almost unstable, making him wonder what lay in her past. Then again, he had no way of knowing how much was her and how much was the persona. He shook his head to clear it of the vexatious elf. If he wanted to win he needed to focus, and with the sun setting he didn't have much time.
The brilliant light filtering through the branches turned gold, and gradually darkened as he worked his way to the sea. He came to a stop at the final terrace overlooking the ocean and scanned the crowd below.
Sleek docks extended out to equally pristine vessels. Tiny rivers flowed up and down the waterfront, and the enchanted water carried crates and goods to and from the ships. He'd come to associate oceanfront districts with the smell of fish, trash, and salt, but here the breeze carried a warm scent of flowers. Then he noticed that all of the buildings below contained gardens on balconies and terraces above.
He scanned the crowd until twilight and then descended to the darkened floor of the city. Gliding between towering trees alight with enchanted colors, he passed into a courtyard garden with hundreds of elves and a handful of humans. He slowed, searching for a target. Jewelry and gold were in abundance, but he remained in the shadows until he spotted an elf maiden speaking with a pair of other elven women.
She turned her head, allowing the glowing plants to reflect light across her haughty features and the pendant hanging from her neck. The gold chain ended at a massive ruby shaped like a heart, clearly the focal point of her jewelry. She touched it several times as if assuring herself of its presence.
A smile crossed Jack's face and he glided forward, weaving through the crowd until he passed behind her. On the way he snagged an elven cloak from a merchant’s pack. He donned the cloak over his shaden and altered his posture to resemble that of an elf. Feigning drunkenness, he bumped into his target, using the contact to detach the necklace and slide it into his pocket.
“My apologies,” he said, slurring his speech and drifting away before she could see his features.
He'd practiced an elven accent before and she appeared convinced. She sniffed in disgust and turned to our friends. “When did our people fall to such human drink? It's unseemly.”
Jack smirked and slipped away, reaching the treescape by the time the elf began to shout about a thief. A handful of guards rushed to her side, but Jack had already discarded the cloak and turned to the mage guild, searching for his next target.
He stuck to the lower terraces in order to scan the crowd exiting and entering the mage guildhall. With all the light glowing from the trees it was easy to scan the group, but this target proved much more difficult.
A man's soul.
His irritation mounted as the hours slipped by. Then he spotted a mage exiting the guildhall with a bottle in hand, his stagger implying he'd been partaking liberally. The drawn look on his face suggested it was a habit, one extensive enough to dominate his life, cankering his soul. Jack dropped to the ground and followed him, drawing close enough to touch. Then he drew his crossbow and aimed at a nearby tree, sending an explosive bolt into the wood.
The explosion shattered the calm, eliciting cries of shock and confusion. The sound caused the mage to flinch, releasing the bottle as he instinctively turned toward the threat. Jack caught it and strode into the darkness, letting it swallow him before the elf tried to find the bottle.
With just an hour left Jack sprinted to the waterfront, guessing that soldiers would be in abundance. His hunch proved accurate and Jack stalked among them, searching for one that stood out. A scowl crossed his features when he realized that few of them were officers, and nearly all bore the standard elven short sword strapped to their backs. He found a seat outside a tavern and watched them, hoping for an officer to pass by.
Across from him a ship glided into the harbor, disgorging a handful of elves onto the dock. Jack paused, his gaze drawn to one of them. Tall and lean, the elf was older than most. In spite of his age, the elf's eyes betrayed his wariness. His gait was measured, controlled. Both the caution and the posture marked him as a soldier.
His weapon stood apart from the other soldiers as well, and Jack recognized it as a katsana, a curving longsword that required both hands and a great deal of strength to wield. The elf's blade would certainly help him win the challenge, but a rare sense of caution held him in check. Jack looked about, searching the soldiers striding around him for another target.
Realizing the elf was his best chance at victory, Jack scowled and measured his approach, slipping behind the elf as he strode along the dock. The elf glanced back twice, but Jack made certain to keep someone between them, blocking the view. When he drew close enough to strike, Jack glided forward.
As if sensing his approach, the elf rotated. Jack darted in and reached for the hilt of the elf’s sword. Then he aimed into the trees and activated his shadowhook, sending a thread of darkness into the treescape. Just as his hand closed around the hilt, the shadowhook yanked him skyward.
His heart hammered in his chest as he careened into the trees, and he deftly landed on a terrace. Safe and out of reach, he paused to look back at the elf. To his surprise the soldier had not given chase. A trickle of foreboding sank into Jack's gut as their eyes met. Unable to stop himself, he swept his hands wi
de as if in apology. Then he darted away, struggling to forget the condemnation on the elf's features.
Chapter 28: The Seeker
Jack used his shadowhook and sped across the treescape, reaching the guildhall just before midnight. Foregoing the entrance, he used his shadowhook to climb up the outside. He grinned at the sword in his hand and left it stabbed into a section of wood outside a window. Then he swung through and a rose to his feet.
Evidently word of the challenge had spread and dozens of thieves were gathered around the room, laughing and talking. At Jack's appearance they raised their mugs, shouting to each other and pulling their coin into view.
“You’re almost late,” Lorelia said, and strode toward him with a predator's smile. “Did you succeed?”
“Of course,” he replied, and withdrew the pendent. “A lady's heart, as requested.”
The room erupted in laughter and jeers, and Lorelia's smile widened. Then she withdrew a memory orb from a pouch at her side. It pulsed with light before the figure of an aged elf appeared inside. The elf smiled and began to talk, but the words were lost amidst the shouts of praise.
“Queen Ayame's cousin was visiting,” Lorelia said, her tone smug. “And she always travels with the memory orb of her father. He died years ago but she still mourns the loss, saying she lost her heart with his passing.”
Jack scowled at the orb. Although memory orbs were common, a moving one with sound was not. Only nobles or the wealthy possessed them. Realizing he'd lost, Jack withdrew the bottle he'd taken from the mage.
“A man’s soul,” he proclaimed, “lost to a bottle long ago.”
The sight elicited a round of laughter from the other thieves, and he spotted Beauty slipping into a chair. She caught his eye sand grinned as if to say, you brought this on yourself.
“I expected more from you,” Lorelia said, feigning pity as her eyes twinkled. Then she withdrew a diamond ring. “The signet of the House of Runya, worn by Erianna, middle daughter of the house and second in line for the throne. All three of the daughters received one at birth from their father. Their grandfather made them for the girls himself, and is known to say they owned his soul.”
Dismayed, Jack could only watch the thieves crow at the feat. When it had subsided, Lorelia could no longer wait, and pulled a short sword into view. With an expression of triumph, she twirled it in front of Jack.
“High Captain Thoris, head of the Guild Guard, has a nice weapon, don't you think?” Her shrewd gaze searched his form. “Did you fail to get your own?”
Amidst the laughter Jack retreated to the window and yanked the katsana into the room. Then he raised it to her.
“I don't know his name, but no normal soldier carries a sword like this.”
Lorelia's laughter subsided when she looked at the sword. As the others took notice of the sword they too fell quiet, and a current of fear seeped through the room. Surprised, Jack took a closer look at the sword and realized it was black, indicating an anti-magic blade. The rarity of such a weapon suggested it to be even more valuable than he'd thought, which brought a smile to his face.
“You’re a fool,” a voice growled, and everyone turned to find Kuraltus standing in the doorway. “Do you know who owns this weapon?”
“I must have missed the name on his tunic,” Jack said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“He's a Seeker,” Kuraltus snapped.
Jack's heart sank. Among the elven army a trio of elite formed the Setarian. They served the crown directly, and not even a general could issue orders to them. Known as Seekers, they sought out enemies of the elven nation that had escaped into other kingdoms.
“Only one Seeker in recent memory used a katsana,” Lorelia said. “Some called him The Hunter. Others called him Longblade. He hunted thieves, assassins, and everything in between. None escaped.”
“I thought he retired,” someone said.
“He left to become a trainer on Sri Rosen.”
“Apparently he's back for a visit.”
Lorelia laughed, but it sounded strained and empty. Kuraltus advanced toward Jack, black rage twisting his features. Before he'd closed the gap a faint tinkling sounded, causing everyone to look at the door. Doubt crossed his features and then Kuraltus gestured to Urin, who disappeared from the room. A moment later he returned and handed an envelope to Kuraltus.
Everyone held their breath as Kuraltus read the note. Then he crumpled it in a fist and jabbed it at Jack.
“He wants his sword back. Meet him at the inn next to where you stole it.”
Beauty took a step forward. “I'll go with him—”
“No,” Kuraltus growled. “The Hunter wants him to come alone, and so he shall. If the Hunter kills Jack or throws him into prison, we'll all be better off.”
Jack's gaze swept the room. Most of the thieves appeared sympathetic, others amused. At least Beauty and Lorelia appeared worried. Realizing he was on his own, Jack shrugged and strode to the door.
“Save me some ale,” he said. “It's been a long day.”
He slipped outside and trudged along the treescape toward the ocean. Briefly he considered leaving the sword where the Hunter could find it and departing, but doubted that would reflect well on his place in the guild. If they cast him out because he'd incited the ire of a powerful soldier, he would lose his one chance at retribution.
His fingers tightened and he accelerated his pace, eager to be done with the night. The fact that the soldier knew the location of the thieves’ guildhall in Woodhaven—but had not come directly—indicated he might be inclined to forgiveness. Or at least that's what Jack hoped.
The night’s activity had stilled in the last hour with only a handful of elves walking the city, most of them guards. He moved the longsword out of sight as they passed. They might let him pass with a naked blade in hand but he didn't want to risk it.
He descended from the treescape and wound his way through glowing gardens and great trees until he reached the ocean. Turning north, he made his way to the spot where he'd stolen the sword. Gathering his courage, he strode to the inn adjacent and swung the door open.
A few human and elven sailors lounged about the room but they were buried in conversation and didn't look up at his entrance. Then the bartender spotted him, his eyes flicking to the sword. A faint smirk spread on his features and he gestured to the stairs.
“Third door on your right. He’s waiting for you.”
In private.
If the elf wanted to kill him, he was certainly preparing the setting. Again Jack felt the urge to walk away, but he thought of his mother and pressed on. Ascending the stairs, he went to the open door and stopped on the threshold.
The elf sat at a table eating a meal of boiled tubers and carrots. His gaze was already on the door and he motioned Jack in.
“You should be more careful with your sword,” Jack said, and placed the blade on the table. “Someone might take it.”
The elf's gaze never left Jack. He didn't touch the sword, but Jack sensed he could take it and kill him before Jack could blink. Instead the elf smiled and motioned him to take a seat.
“Have some ale, thief.”
Jack hesitated, and then sank into a chair across from the Seeker. He caught the pitcher and poured himself a glass. Then he eyed it critically. “How much poison did you put in it?”
“No more than what lies within all ale.”
Jack smirked and took a swig, grateful that the elf appeared more curious than angry. When he placed the cup down the sword was no longer on the table. Silent and swift, the elf had returned it to the scabbard on his back—without Jack noticing.
“You could have stopped me in the street,” Jack said.
“Why do you say that?”
“If you can move like that, you could have prevented my escape,” Jack said. “Why didn’t you?”
The Seeker regarded him for some time. “At one time I would have killed you on the spot—or hunted you down and tossed you in a cell t
o rot. But certain events have a way of changing one's perspective.”
“Then I'm grateful for the cause.”
The Seeker grinned, an oddly soft expression on his stern features. “As am I. But I wonder what led you to become what you are.”
“My purpose is my own,” Jack said, folding his arms.
“A man driven does not often become a thief.”
The silence stretched between them until Jack realized the Seeker would not be satisfied with his answer.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I wish to understand how an innocent child turns into you,” the Seeker replied.
Jack caught an odd twinge in the elf's voice. “Are you worried for your own son?” he asked.
“He is not my son,” the Seeker admitted. “Yet he is mine.”
Now curious, Jack leaned forward. “If he has you, he's not likely to end up like me.”
The elf burst into a laugh, and when it had subsided he said, “Perhaps, but I still wonder what compels you to enter such an occupation. The Thieves Guild has more dangers than a dragon's lair.”
His tone darkened as he spoke, causing Jack to grunt. “You speak of the Guildmaster.”
“He is an enigma,” the Seeker replied. “One more dangerous than he appears.”
“What do you know?”
The elf regarded him with sudden understanding. “I never hunted him, but I hunted many of his thieves.”
“And?”
“And he has no history.”
“What does that mean?”
The Seeker leaned forward and the firelight in the hearth flickered off his face. “I found no record of his birth, where he was raised, or his family.”
“So he erased his youth?”
“I would have found evidence of that,” the Seeker said. “No truth can be entirely erased from history.”
From anyone else Jack would have doubted the words, but not coming from the Seeker. “What about the thieves?” he asked. “No one has been in the guild longer than him.”