01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  “It doesn't matter,” Jack said. “Once they open it for us, we’ll walk right in.”

  “Assuming they open it.”

  “They will.”

  Jack fixed his gaze on the fortress as he waited. Anticipation and worry rotated through his heart, making him feel jittery and annoyed. Most of the plan was his, meaning if it failed he would shoulder the blame.

  A rustle of wood brought their gaze behind them, and Ursana appeared. “We're ready.”

  “Do it,” Jack said.

  She nodded, her black hair disappearing into the mist as she retreated from view. Jack tensed as he waited, knowing the moment had arrived. The seconds seemed to drag forever and his anxiety continued to mount. Then a bellowed shout shattered the uneasy calm of the Evermist.

  “Kill the thieves!”

  The soldier's roar was followed by the twang of crossbows, and bolts streaked through the mist, thudding into the castle wall. The sound of men shouting and weapons being drawn mounted, drawing closer by the second. More crossbows sent their bolts streaking toward the castle, breaking windows and exploding inside.

  The attack came from the eastern flank, suggesting they were not aware of the hidden bridge. As it continued to escalate, a dull clanking sounded next to Jack and Beauty, and the bridge rose into view. The moment it was out of the water, thieves and guards quietly sprinted across.

  “It worked,” Beauty breathed.

  “Only the thieves know the swamp,” Jack whispered as the thieves dived into the trees and headed toward the conflict. “They can attack from anywhere and disappear. As long as we didn't trap them in the castle, they were bound to come out.”

  Beauty grunted in irritation at the smugness to his voice. “You're not always right, you know.”

  “Often enough to bet on.”

  Her silence implied agreement, causing him to chuckle. Then the last of the thieves stepped to the lever and yanked on it. While his back was turned Jack wormed his way out of his hiding spot and slipped below the bridge.

  “Five seconds,” he hissed.

  He activated his shadowhook and the thread of darkness streaked into the gloom underneath the bridge. The moment it caught Jack touched the rune—and the magic yanked him forward. His foot touched the support beam and he leapt across the murky water, using the shadowhook to propel him to the one after.

  The bridge lowered toward him, closing the gap until he was forced to crouch. Each successive crossbeam was deeper in the water, the slime making it a precarious footing. He heard Beauty curse under her breath when she slipped and almost plunged into the water. Sensing an easy meal, the alligators glided toward them.

  “Out of time,” Jack hissed.

  Jack touched the last beam and leapt out from under the bridge, aiming for the tiny bank of earth that abutted the fortress. He landed and rolled upward, scrambling to evade the alligator exiting nearby. Then he aimed his shadowhook to the castle battlements and reached back for Beauty.

  One of the beasts charged out of the water, its jaws opening to hiss as it reached for her foot. Jack activated the magic when her hand clasped his. The jaws snapped shut as the magic yanked them skyward. Hurtling up the outside of the castle, Beauty breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I was right,” Jack said.

  “I refuse to admit that.”

  Jack grinned as they reached the battlements above. He slowed their pace and then eased himself over. A glance revealed they were alone, so he darted to a tower and entered the fortress. They descended the tower steps on cat's feet. At the same time, he listened to the muffled sounds of battle.

  It had taken them a week to find a shipment of crossbows being delivered to the Talinorian cavalry. Guarded by two score infantry, the wagon had been winding its way west toward Keese when Jack and his companions had struck.

  With Gordon and Jack dressed as soldiers, they'd ridden up and climbed onto the wagon to “inspect the shipment.” Gordon had knocked the driver to the dirt while Jack snapped the reins. As the wagon accelerated away, Gordon had activated a sound memory orb, capturing the stunned commander's shout.

  “Kill the thieves!”

  They had picked up Lorelia, Beauty, and Ursana at the top of the hill, but Jack had kept the wagon within striking distance for several minutes, allowing them to capture enough of the battle to fill the orb. Then he'd whipped the reins and the two horses had surged into a gallop, taking them out of the soldier's reach. Jack's taunting laughter had caused the commander to rip his helmet off and throw it to the ground in disgust.

  “SKORN BLASTED THIEVES!”

  “Four minutes left,” Beauty whispered. “Once they know it's a ruse, they will be searching for us.”

  “Then we'd better hurry,” Jack said.

  They slipped through the empty corridors of the fortress but slowed as they neared the Guildmaster's office. Situated directly above the Machine, the antechamber was guarded by a pair of burly guards who had not been drawn to the sounds of battle.

  From an alcove at the base of the steps leading to the office, Jack examined the two men. Both held swords in their hands, the tips resting on the floor at their feet. Likely on edge from the supposed attack, they stared at the space below them, their eyes roving for any hint of a threat.

  “I'll take the left,” she whispered.

  “Then I'm right,” Jack said.

  He smirked at his own words and leapt into the open. He aimed his hand crossbow at his target, but the man ducked and surged down the stairs. Raising his sword high, he brought it down upon Jack's shadow as he slipped to the side. Before he could recover, Jack dropped to the ground and swept the man’s legs from under him. Then he triggered an ice bolt to freeze his back to the floor. Cursing and shivering, the man was helpless to reach him.

  Jack turned in time to see Beauty catch the guard’s wrist. Then she kicked high, wrapping her leg around the back of the man’s neck. Pulling the leg down she smashed him into the floor. The crack of his skull bouncing off the stone reverberated in the room. The skill and poise to the maneuver caused Jack to grin.

  “I don’t think your childhood was very fun.”

  She snorted and sprinted up the stairs. With practiced hands she picked the lock and swung the door open, revealing the Guildmaster's personal office. Large and spacious, the room contained a vault opposite them and two doors to either side. A polished blackwood desk sat at the center of the floor with a single chair behind it. Jack motioned her to the door on the left while he again took the right.

  She blew out her breath in exasperation and raced to the indicated door. “Watch out for curses!”

  Jack slid to a stop by the door and ran a finger over the moulding. A faint hum echoed in his enhanced ears, suggesting a banshee curse. He found the trigger by the handle and used his anti-magic knife to sever it. After two more curses he rotated the handle and swung it open. As he did Beauty appeared at his side.

  “Just stairs leading to the top of the Machine,” she said, stabbing finger toward the door she’d checked.

  “Then this must be his bedchamber,” Jack said.

  He swung the door open but came to a halt, stunned at what he saw. A massive bed rested on the floor. A closet and a second desk were the only other furnishings, but the sense of normalcy ended there.

  Instead of paintings the walls were covered with parchment. Scribbles and drawings were sketched on the papers. The designs were of machines, strange creatures, and maps. Even the ceiling had scraps of parchment hanging from it, and contained patterns of stars with great circles to connect them.

  “What is this?”

  “The Guildmaster's secret,” Jack said, and then he spotted a dajuna on the desk.

  Resting on a forked stand, the ethereal dagger was different from the one he'd used on Jack at the assassin's guild. Beside it a purple orb glowed with threads of magic seeping from the dagger. Jack strode forward, picked up the orb, and threw it against the wall.

  The glass shattered, s
ending an explosion of purple light streaking outward. Beauty gasped and sank to her knees, her expression twisted in shock. He took a step toward her but she caught the desk and forced herself to her knees. Her expression faded from shock to recollection, and then pure rage.

  “What do you remember?” Jack asked, moving to her side.

  “I remember everything,” she growled.

  “What have you done?”

  The voice caused them both to turn and find the Guildmaster himself standing in the doorway. His face was twisted in fury, his eyes burning with hatred. His hand was on his sword hilt, the grip so tight his knuckles were white.

  “Murderer!” Beauty snarled, and raised her crossbow, firing three bolts in quick succession.

  The Guildmaster jerked to the side and the bolts missed. They detonated on the desk, exploding into fire and bits of blackened wood. By then Beauty had closed the gap in a burst of speed and raised her dagger.

  Impossibly fast, the Guildmaster caught her outstretched hands and threw her into his office. Rotating back, he caught Jack's wrist as he lunged, and tossed him aside like he was a child. Jack rolled to his feet as the man slammed the door with such force the wood cracked. Then he rotated back.

  “Years of effort wasted, because of you.”

  He drew his sword in a flash of steel but before he could advance, Thalidon crashed through the doorway. The dwarven engineer stumbled to a halt and leveled an accusing finger at the Guildmaster. His expression turned rigid with fury as he spoke.

  “You,” he spat the word. “You made me believe Roarthin was dying.”

  Other thieves followed him in, all holding their heads like they'd just been beaten. Collectively they began to shout at the Guildmaster.

  “You're no thief!”

  “You killed your way in and changed us!”

  “You're no guildmaster!”

  The rage on the Guildmaster's face cooled and he lowered his sword. Surrounded by dozens of thieves bent on killing him, he merely shook his head and sheathed his sword. Then his dark eyes swept across the mob of thieves.

  “You're just vermin,” he said. “But a second purge would be impossible to cover up. You get to keep your miserable lives a little longer.” It wasn't fear on his face but annoyance, as if facing a group of lethal thieves was merely an inconvenience.

  “Don't worry,” Orn said. He strode forward and drew a dajuna from a sheath at his side. “You won't even remember the pain.”

  The thieves lunged for him but he glided through them like they were standing still. Faster than any elf, he drove his purple dagger into their skulls as he passed. Crossbow bolts never came close, and Jack and Beauty were knocked aside like leaves in a cyclone.

  Beauty clawed her way to her feet and charged, but Orn reached up and caught her weapon with one hand before driving the memory blade into her forehead. As she slumped he turned to Jack. He tightened his grip on his dagger but the man slapped it away like it was a toy.

  “You have no idea who I am,” he growled, his dark eyes boring into Jack. “And you must know your foe to defeat them.”

  Then the purple dagger entered Jack’s skull and everything went dark.

  Chapter 38: Trapped in Memory

  Jack awoke with a familiar throbbing pain in his skull. He groaned, irritated that Orn had tried to take his memory again. Fortunately, he'd shored up his mental defenses in time so he could fill in the blanks. Making a mental note to thank Ursana for her aid, he forced his eyes open.

  His vision cleared to find himself still inside the Guildmaster's office. His arms were bound to a chair, as were his ankles. Thieves lay strewn about the floor, causing his heart to grip in his chest. Then he spotted Beauty's chest rising and falling, and realized they were merely unconscious.

  “They'll sleep for a time yet,” Orn said, striding into view. “And when they wake I'll fill them in on my version of events.”

  “Truth always finds its way to the light.”

  Orn burst into a mocking laugh. “Truth is never as rigid as you think, especially with history. It's been forty thousand years since the event you call the Dawn of Magic, yet I wonder if anyone but Draeken ever learned the true nature of Lumineia.”

  Jack's forehead creased at the mention of the Lord of Chaos. The man had sent a horde of fiends to destroy the races in the Great Draeken War, but it had been nearly ten thousand years since then. Now his name inspired fear in children as a myth.

  “I doubt you know anything,” Jack said.

  Orn shook his head. “You think to goad me into a mistake? You are a fool, albeit one with unusual talents. How did you hold your memory?”

  “I think of all the women that have refused your company, and smile.”

  Orn's eyes glittered with irritation and he shifted tactics. “I should kill you, but in spite of what you've done I am curious. What do you know?”

  Jack couldn't resist. “I know your name, Orn.”

  For the first time the man's eyes flickered with fear. Then he turned away as if he’d realized the omission and picked Jack's dagger off the table. Twirling it in his hands, he shifted to face Jack once more, all trace of fear gone.

  “And the map? Did you see it?”

  “I destroyed it.”

  Orn froze, his hand tightening on the dajuna handle until it squeaked. “Why?”

  “My purpose is my own,” Jack replied, and the reminder of their first conversation caused Orn's features to tighten with fury.

  “I have sought that map since the day I escaped from—” he caught himself and reined in his emotion. Then he flashed a cold smile. “You think to bait me to reveal more.”

  “Where did you escape from?” Jack asked. “The Black Mines, the infamous Griffin prison? Or perhaps the dwarven fortress of Therindule?”

  “It is laughable that you think such vermin could contain me,” he said.

  “So tell me who you are,” Jack said. “You plan on killing me anyway, and it's clear you are dying to speak it.”

  He almost smiled as he realized he was using the same technique that the Seeker had used on him, keeping his target off balance in order to force a slip. But Orn merely shook his head and folded his arms.

  “Why are you here, Jack?”

  “I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  Orn regarded him for several moments and then shrugged. “I want what is rightfully mine. The map you destroyed would have helped get it.” He gestured to Jack. “I shared a truth, so now it’s your turn.”

  “No.”

  Orn sneered at the curt answer. “You will not honor your words?”

  “I never said when I would tell you,” Jack pointed out. “You should be more specific when you negotiate with a thief.”

  Rage flitted across Orn’s features until his hands trembled. Jack wondered if he'd gone too far, if the man would simply use the dagger to cut his throat and watch him die. Then he slowly put the blade down and Jack realized why. Orn had the power, but he wasn't certain if Jack was lying or not. He needed to know what had happened to the map. As he wrestled with the choice Jack surreptitiously began to work his hands against his bonds.

  “Tell me about the theft at Azertorn,” Orn finally said.

  Jack almost refused, but he wanted to keep the man talking and decided to change tactics. As he launched into a detailed description of their entry into the Hall of Records, Orn expressed surprise, and then he virtually licked his lips in anticipation. Jack watched the man's reaction as he spoke of the vintor.

  “You told Kuraltus to send me past the vintor—even though you knew it was poisoned.”

  Orn's jaw tightened at the pause in the story, but his voice became conciliatory. “I wanted the map, and you were capable of getting it. Besides, I was confident you would find a way to get yourself healed.”

  “What does this map have that matters?” Jack asked lightly. “Kuraltus said it was made by the ancients, so nothing would be relevant today.”

  Jack smil
ed expectantly, making it clear he wouldn't continue without an answer. Then he watched the indecision flit across Orn's features. The man had no desire to reveal the truth, but he needed Jack to get the answers he desired.

  “They were more intelligent than you can understand,” Orn finally said, his voice turning reverent. “Did you know that? They built structures that have endured for tens of thousands of years, yet the races of Lumineia don't even understand what materials they used. Their engineering surpassed the dwarves, their control over energy made the elves look like children playing with light, and their cunning puts mankind to shame.”

  “You want to know their secrets,” Jack said. “Why?”

  A twisted smile spread on Orn's features. “I wager their world was brighter, cleaner, and better than the squalor we endure.”

  “It was your choice to live in a swamp.”

  He sighed at that. “A necessary evil,” he said. “I knew I needed a supreme thief, and so I came here to find one.”

  “How many did you kill to become the Guildmaster? A dozen? A hundred?”

  Orn's eyes flicked back to him. “I only killed those who retained their memories. It was unfortunate that my predecessor was one of them. He had potential, not unlike you in fact. But I doubt even he could have gotten past the vintor . . .”

  His voice faded into silence and he smiled. Jack understood the message. Orn had revealed everything he wanted to at this point, and it was Jack's turn to continue the story. Reluctantly Jack began to speak, telling of his passage through the vintor and the entrance into the Queen's Vault.

  As he talked Orn crept forward, drawn to the story as if Jack held the map in his hands. The sheen to his eyes caused Jack to skip the section where he'd activated the map. Instead he described the press of time and said he'd simply returned to Kuraltus. Then he smiled again, an invitation for more.

  Orn growled at him. “That smug look is going to get you killed someday.”

  “But not today.”

  Orn's eyes flared with hatred, and then cooled once more. Jack began to wonder just how much the man wanted the map. He'd have carved Jack's flesh from his bones if he could, and yet again he held his wrath in check. What would he do when he learned the map had truly been destroyed?