by Ben Hale
“None that remember.”
Jack blinked in surprise, recalling the Guildmaster's use of the dajuna. “You think he erased their memories?”
“Memory magic is tricky,” he said. “And doesn't work on everyone. A former druid such as yourself would know that.”
Shocked, Jack forced a calm demeanor. “Who said I was a druid?”
“You did,” the Seeker said, a small smile playing across his features. “In how you moved. What type of cat was it?”
“Panther,” Jack admitted, too stunned to lie.
“And an excellent bonding, I wager,” the Seeker said with approving nod. “Or you wouldn't have such skill. What happened to him?”
Jack fell silent, his expression darkening. “Dead, then?” the Seeker asked. “I'm sorry for your loss. I understand it's like losing part of your soul.”
Pain twisted Jack's features and he growled. “You cannot know what I've endured.”
“So why the Thieves Guild?” the Seeker asked. “Why go after them?”
“Because they killed my mother,” he snarled, “and my Joré.”
The elf leaned back in his chair, and as if a spell had broken, Jack understood. The elf had been a master tracker, a hunter of men. He'd manipulated the conversation, forcing Jack to share what he kept hidden from nearly everyone. Rage built up within him and he rose to his feet.
“Why do you care, elf?”
The elf looked up at him, his expression oddly tired. “Raising a child changes you,” he said, his voice distant. “Makes you worry in a way that's almost painful. I was not prepared for it.” His eyes flicked to Jack. “When I saw you I thought of him, and wondered what he would become, what dangers he would face, and how they would change him.”
The shift in conversation had punctured Jack's rage. “You can't protect him,” Jack said quietly, and then thought of his mother. “But your teachings might.”
The Seeker smiled and rose to his feet. “You have chosen an unsavory occupation, and yet I find myself hoping you survive. Good luck, thief, and be more cautious in the targets you choose.”
“I will,” Jack said honestly, and inclined his head.
He swept from the room, but the Seeker's words lingered throughout the night, seeping regret into his heart. It wasn't until almost dawn that he realized he missed having a father, one who worried as much as the elf did.
Chapter 29: The Elven Assignment
Jack slept late, and only rose when light streamed through the window. Groaning, he changed and plodded to the meal hall. There he found Lorelia sitting in front of an uneaten lunch, her attention on a ball of light in her hand. He caught a plate of food from the cooks and sat across from her.
The magic dissipated as she turned her dazzling smile on him. “You were out late. I hope he didn't torture you.”
“Saving that for yourself?” he asked.
She laughed and gestured to him. “Of course, but I'd like to collect my winnings first.”
“Who said you won?”
“You may have found the best sword, but I bested you on the first two.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but I suspect the Seeker's sword may have won additional praise for its creativity.”
Her smile turned sour, indicating Jack had hit a nerve. Then she rebounded and leaned forward. “Care for a second attempt?”
He took a bite of the food, considering the idea. He was loath to retreat from a challenge but he had a sneaking suspicion that she would beat him soundly. Fortunately, he was saved from answering by Beauty, who slid into a seat beside him.
“I thought you'd never wake,” she said.
“It was a late night.”
“What happened, anyway?” she asked.
Jack shrugged. “He wanted to talk.”
“Perhaps he's not as dangerous as he used to be,” Lorelia said.
Jack thought of how rapidly he'd taken the sword, and how skillfully the elf had interrogated him. He shook his head.
“He's not one to cross,” he said. His tone caused Beauty to raise an eyebrow.
“Is that caution I hear in your voice?”
He laughed at her smug look. “No more than is prudent.”
“Perhaps it will serve you on our next assignment,” Beauty said.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I thought Kuraltus was Skorn-bent on keeping me idle.”
“He was,” she replied. “But apparently the Guildmaster had different ideas. We're to meet a son of the House of Keserian, third house of Azertorn.” Then her expression soured and she shifted to Lorelia. “You're to come as well.”
Lorelia's eyes twinkled with delight. “What a delicious surprise.”
“Is that all we'll be doing?” Jack asked.
“I hope not.” Lorelia laughed and slipped from the room. “I'll meet you two downstairs.”
“I really don't like her,” Beauty said when she was gone.
“Because she's competent? Or competition?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because she's unpredictable.”
“That's why I like her.”
She turned on him, her voice turning into a harsh whisper. “You need to focus. Kuraltus is far more dangerous than Nemeth, and you're acting like a child.”
He folded his arms. “I'm playing the persona. They expect me to be cavalier and impulsive.”
“Are you certain it's just your persona?”
“Is it your persona that's jealous of Lorelia?” he countered. “Or you?”
She flushed and then her expression hardened. “Meet me downstairs. We have a long journey to Azertorn.”
Ascending to his room, he gathered his gear and strapped on his weapons before descending to the entry room. There he found Kuraltus waiting impatiently with the others. He growled at Jack's appearance.
“You're late.”
Jack feigned a yawn as he strode to the group. “The bed was too comfortable to leave.”
Lorelia laughed as Kuraltus scowled. “Your assignment is to meet with Ranol Keserian,” he said. “Do not forget that he is a prince of the third most powerful house in Azertorn. Your assignment will come from him, and I understand it regards a sensitive issue.”
“We’ll handle him,” Lorelia said, and grinned before stepping to the door.
Jack followed her into the treescape and the trio made their way across the city. After passing the mage guild, they descended to a river at the south side of the city. Sunlight filtered through the water to illuminate the white rocks that lined the bed below. Jack spotted an assortment of fish flitting beneath the crystalline waters.
Roots of cypress trees had been cultivated and shaped to form living docks, while the branches bent down to form railings and intricate supports for a roof. At the end of the dock a handful of small boats bobbed on the surface.
Descending to it, they paid their passage to an elf on the pier and climbed aboard. It had no helmsman, sail, or even rudder, but it drifted away from the dock and began to speed upriver. Lorelia noticed Jack’s expression and grinned.
“Elven enchantments are a wonder.”
Jack looked away from the boat and held her gaze. “Of that I have no doubt.”
She laughed at his meaning and settled into a seat. “We have a few days to Azertorn. Since our wager came to naught, I propose a trade. A story for a story.”
Jack gestured to Beauty. “We all play or none play.”
Beauty shook her head. “I don't think I—”
“Agreed,” Lorelia said, cutting Beauty off. “First I want to hear about Nightfall Gorge.”
He smirked and began to talk, starting when he arrived in Nightfall Gorge and continuing through the party and their escape. He glossed over the details of Nemeth being taken by the dark elves and finished with their escape from Shadow's Bank.
When he finished Lorelia shared a tale of a theft in the dwarven citadel of Torridin, which had all three of them laughing. After much goading Beauty eventually shared a story of an assignment o
n the islands of azure.
Throughout the day they spoke on their various assignments, but Jack noticed they left conspicuous gaps from their youth. Lorelia had spent fifty years learning to control her magic at the elven mage guild, but she kept silent on her time there, and never mentioned her family. As he listened to their tales he began to wonder if all thieves had a past they sought to hide.
They ate lunch on the boat and continued their tales until nightfall, when a tree house inn came into view. Situated in the center of the river, the structure was held aloft by a quartet of massive trees. Water flowed around the trunks that supported it, swirling through the roots. The boat glided into the shade cast by the inn and banked to a stop. When it came to a halt they ascended a spiraling staircase into the first floor of the inn above.
Peace and tranquility permeated the small tavern that occupied the first floor. The thieves enjoyed a meal before paying for a room. Jack was pleased to find that each of the private rooms were tiny cottages nestled into the upper branches above the inn. He fell asleep listening to birds and the flow of water.
The next morning they ate and then boarded their boat once again. Jack watched the inn until a bend in the river blocked the view. Then he sighed and turned away. Beauty noticed his reaction and her eyes glinted with amusement.
“Did you enjoy the accommodations?”
“How could I not?” he asked, and a faint smile crossed his face. “They had enough coin to buy a house.”
Lorelia swiveled to face them. “You cleaned them out? I just thought they had sent the coin to a moneychanger.”
Jack withdrew a large pouch, its weight alone suggesting it was a fortune. “The accommodations were flawless, but their prices were exorbitant. After nightfall I crept down to retrieve what I had paid, and then saw how much they had. I couldn’t resist.”
Her nose wrinkled in annoyance. “They are always a fat target.”
“Next time be faster,” he said, sniffing at her failure.
“You both went to steal their gold?” Beauty asked.
Jack and Lorelia exchanged a look, and they burst into laughter. “You didn’t?” he asked.
Beauty grumbled under her breath. “Blasted thieves.”
They laughed again and then continued their conversation until they reached Azertorn. With the sun just beginning its descent, the boat slid into a dock a short distance from the city. They disembarked, allowing a group of elven soldiers and workers to take their place. Beauty gestured to Lorelia to take the lead, and she skipped to the front. They walked through the trees to the vast lake on the other side of a hill. Once there, they came to a halt, their eyes lifting to the great fortress of Azertorn.
Known as the Giant's Shelf, a great plateau stood over a thousand feet in height, and stretched east and west for more than twenty miles. Massive twin waterfalls cascaded down the cliff, blossoming into a clinging mist when they struck the lake below. Carved into the stone between the cascades, Azertorn looked down upon the forest floor.
At seven hundred feet high, the tiers of the city contained thousands of gardens and gurgling waterways. Trees lent shade and color to houses, streets, and businesses. Larger than all, one tree towered over the city.
Situated at the lowest level of the city, Le Runtáriel rose to over five hundred feet. Its enormous branches formed pathways that connected the upper tiers of the city, while other limbs formed stairs around its trunk, terraces, and secluded platforms.
A bridge crossed the lake and led to the main gates recessed into the cliff below the city. A handful of elven riders rode toward the city while a pair of elven maidens made way for them. Jack turned toward the bridge but Lorelia shook her head.
“Other races are not permitted to enter the main gates,” she said.
“Afraid someone will learn your defenses?” Jack asked.
“One cannot fight what one does not know,” she replied with a smile.
She turned west, guiding them to a gate recessed in the cliff wall. Protected by a score of elven soldiers, the portal allowed the trio to enter an upward sloping corridor that aimed for the city. Flowering vines blanketed the walls, making the tunnel feel like a forest. Even the guard gates they passed resembled trees growing out of the stone. Figures of light occasionally interspersed the plants, and depicted the history of the elven people in glowing etchings. The magic provided illumination and a touch of color to the corridor.
The end of the tunnel exited onto a garden square. Flanked by two towering statues of water, the final gate was blocked by a hard-eyed soldier in blue armor. He brought them to a halt, his eyes lingering on Jack and Beauty.
“What is your business in the city?”
“Visiting a friend,” Lorelia responded.
Her dazzling smile seemed to leave the soldier disconcerted, causing him to blink and shuffle his feet.
“Who is your friend?” He managed to recover.
“Who wants to know?” Lorelia purred.
The elf fidgeted but managed to retreat. “Be on your way, but watch your friends.”
“I intend to,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Jack and she laughed.
Jack had come to Azertorn once as a child, but they had only stayed for a few days. All he remembered was the city smelled like flowers and sweet water. The memory elicited a smile, and he recalled seeing his mother's face framed by the branches of an orange tree. Her features had been bright and open, excited to show the city.
His smile faded as he thought of Kuraltus. Perhaps Beauty had been right, and he'd allowed himself to get distracted. He glanced at her, not surprised to find an intensity to her gaze. She'd been driven from the moment they had met. Sensing his attention, she looked at him and raised an eyebrow, causing him to shake his head.
“We're to meet Ranol at Ero's temple,” Lorelia said, missing the exchange. “Since Jack needs the practice, perhaps we should allow him to take the lead for this interchange.”
“I agree,” Beauty said, her lips twitching as she fought a smile. “He could use the practice.”
“As you order,” Jack said, and offered a mock bow.
They climbed a set of stairs to a higher level and made their way to the center of the city. Jack had visited cities in every kingdom, but the sheer wonder of Azertorn exceeded them all. Although the architecture of the city was distinctly elven, Jack had no trouble spotting the temple of Ero. Many gods were worshiped by the distinct races, but the worship of Ero represented the only common deity for every kingdom. At times bordering on fanatical, the religion drew many by the spectacle of its ceremonies.
Like all temples of Ero, the structure was a star-shaped dome. Gold and silver covered the roof in intricate patterns that highlighted the light pouring from within. Fine Amazonian wood and dwarven-cut granite finished the pillars that supported it, further adding to the opulence.
The gardens extending in front of the main doors were as manicured as the queen's, and held exotic plants from throughout Lumineia. High walls surrounded the gardens like protective arms, preventing any from entering unless they passed by the donation well.
Fashioned of crystal and blue agate, the well was also star-shaped, but instead of water it contained coins. Jack followed a pair of elves in and watched them toss in two gold apiece. He heard the clink of them falling on the pile and looked down at the wealth of coins, jewels, and jewelry at the bottom of the well.
“If only it were real,” Lorelia murmured with a sigh. “But the illusion is flawless.”
He grinned. “The donations go somewhere.”
“Into the abbot's pockets, I wager,” Beauty said.
She gestured to the abbot greeting a pair of wealthy nobles. His clothes shimmered with costly enchantments. The man smiled broadly, the expression matching the depiction in water flowing across the front of the temple.
Jack snorted at the display. “Anyone that puts their own face on the wall has too much arrogance for my taste.”
Lorelia and Beauty both gru
nted in agreement and they strode into the interior. The pews pointed to the center of the star, where a stage allowed a single speaker to address the crowd. Light beamed through a hole in the ceiling and struck the platform, turning into a statue of Ero holding his fabled staff. The enchantment was stunning, and detailed enough to allow movement. The head turned to look at Jack as he entered. He smirked and made a rude gesture to it.
“Careful,” Beauty warned. “You know what Ero believers are like.”
Jack's gaze fell upon a trio of men kneeling before the statue of light. Dressed in ceremonial white robes, they gazed up and then prostrated themselves on the ground before muttering the traditional prayers.
“Lunatics,” Jack muttered, his voice drawing the ire of a neighboring monk.
“Unless you plan on donating,” he said, “I believe I must ask you to depart.”
The placid smile on his face was creepy enough to inspire revulsion, and suddenly Jack wanted to be done with the god worshipers.
“We're here to meet Ranol Keserian.”
“This way,” he said, his smile fixed. “But I would advise you cast your hateful words from your mind lest you be punished.”
Jack opened his mouth but both Lorelia and Beauty shook their heads. Grumbling to himself, Jack held his tongue as they were led into a private garden at the rear of the temple. There they waited until Prince Keserian appeared.
Dressed in rich fabrics and wearing a golden circlet about his head, his features were striking and handsome, yet carried a subtle hardness that repulsed. He held his head high, as if he physically wanted to look down on all of them. Striding to their side, he motioned deeper into the garden.
“Walk with me.”
The order caused Jack to scowl, but he stayed silent and followed the elf into a secluded corner of the garden. There Ranol ordered the guards to depart and then turned to face them.
“Are you from the guild?” he asked.
Jack smirked at the disdain in his voice. “Here to serve your stealing pleasure.”
His face reddened. “I'm grateful you have come.”