by Ben Hale
Jack leapt from the cottage roof and bolted across the sloping grounds, counting the seconds. He needed five to make it past the rock troll’s view—but the troll looked up in four. The troll barked an order for the soldiers and they recoiled. He sprinted around the turret and searched the shadows. His massive greatsword glittered in the moonlight as he spun about, searching for any hint of movement.
Fifty feet above the troll, Jack hung from his shadowhook, clinging to the side of the turret. The troll looked up and called out for the guards to bring torches, but before they returned Jack slipped onto the turret roof. His heart hammering in his chest, he counted the minutes until the troll muttered to himself and returned to his post.
The near catch brought a smile, and Jack resisted the urge to drop a pebble onto the rock troll’s head. Instead he aimed his bracer toward another roof and activated his shadowhook again. An inky thread exploded from the bracer and streaked across the dim sky, fusing to the shadows on a neighboring roof. Activating one of the runes, Jack leapt off as the magic drew him in. He swung to the neighboring roof and then lowered himself to the wall below.
He reached the battlements and slipped through the shadows, gliding around the courtyard to a door that entered the castle proper. Below, a handful of soldiers fidgeted outside the stables, their helms catching the torchlight as they turned.
Jack reached the door into the keep but it swung open. On instinct he leapt above the door. His toes found purchase on the door’s border and he held the wall with his shadowhook. Unfortunately, the two guards exited with a torch in hand.
“. . . don’t trust the trolls,” one growled. “Just a few years ago they decimated an army we sent into the north.”
“Aye,” the second agreed. “Yet the king is even talking about augmenting their contract to lead the castle guard.”
The guards came to a stop, and the light from their torch brightened the wall. Jack’s shadowhook began to slip and there was nothing to hold. He caught a crack between two stones and held on.
“Blasted trolls . . .” a guard said, his voice trailing off as his eyes drifted up. His features widened with shock when he spotted Jack spread on the wall like a giant fly.
Jack grinned and dropped between them. He caught the torch handle and smashed the wood into the man’s face. Then he spun to the second and struck him in the throat, preventing his shout of warning. Jack slid behind him and wrapped his hand across his mouth.
“If it helps,” Jack whispered, “I don’t like the troll’s presence either.”
The man struggled in his grip until Jack smashed his skull into the wall. He crumpled to the stone without a sound, but the dancing torchlight drew a shout from below.
“Oi!” a man called up. “What’s the commotion about?”
Jack held the sputtering torch so his face remained in shadow and leaned over the battlements. “Willis stubbed his toe!”
The captain jabbed a hand toward him. “Get back to your route!”
“Yes, captain,” he said.
He turned away and knelt to tie up the two guards. “You’d think your captain would know the names of his men,” he murmured, “or at least which Willis is on watch tonight.”
He felt a flash of gratitude for Tryton. Due to the troll’s presence Jack had spent a week in the taverns of Terros, and overheard a Private Willis complain that there were several with his same name on the castle guard.
When the guards were bound Jack dragged them into a storage room and shut the door. Mentally he accelerated his timetable and slipped to the keep. He paused on the threshold and returned to the unconscious guards.
“Sorry, my friend,” he said as he removed the man’s uniform.
He took a moment to don the persona of a soldier, and adjusted the false jaw and hair that obscured his features. Then he strode inside. His effort was rewarded when he passed a guard ambling down the hall. The woman threw him a bored look which Jack returned.
“Blasted trolls,” he said.
The woman grinned and repeated it before passing him by. Jack smirked in her wake before turning down another corridor. Twice more he passed guards on his way to the basement levels of the castle. Both failed to look beyond his uniform.
Sprawling and disorganized, the castle’s very shape had created an unintended defense. He lost his way several times until he found the right stairs leading into the basement. Descending close to the great hall, he avoided the pair of rock trolls within and made his way to the King’s Vault situated beneath it.
He’d expected a rock troll as a guard, and he was not disappointed. The hulking figure stood motionless outside a dwarven-made steel door. Jack came to a halt around the corner and reached up to dim the light orb. If he was fortunate the rock troll would come to investigate, allowing him to slip by.
The rock troll merely glanced at the extinguished light, his eyes turning suspicious. Silently cursing their race, Jack used the dim light to point his gauntlet to the ceiling and ascend into the shadows. As in most of the castle, the ceilings in this chamber contained decorative bars that held short banners. Grasping one, Jack activated the enchantment on his second gauntlet, muffling all sounds in the immediate vicinity.
He used the banners to advance across the ceiling and carefully lowered himself behind the rock troll. Even with the muffling charm active, he touched the floor like it was about to explode and gingerly brought his weight onto the stones.
He was close enough to see the rise and fall of the rock troll’s back as he breathed. A litany of white scars twisted the tattoos. It was the closest Jack had ever been to one of their kind, and he felt the urge to reach out and poke him in the back. To watch one be startled would be no end of amusing, but would probably cost him his head.
He eased himself to the door and slipped a lock pick into the keyhole, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds at the troll. Even though he had the muffling charm active, he controlled every motion. He was not prone to fear but a nine-foot rock troll with hundreds of kills to his credit stood behind him. Jack could hear the leather sliding against the troll’s rough skin as he shifted, the sound just outside the range of his muffling charm.
After an interminable moment the lock gave, and he moved his picks to the second. His patience was rewarded when it too gave, allowing him to turn the handle and ease the door open. He slipped into the stygian darkness and then slid the door shut. Then he withdrew his lightstone from a pouch in his thief’s webbing and activated it to its dimmest setting. The faint glow beamed across the room as he held it aloft, illuminating the strongroom.
At twenty paces across it was smaller than he’d expected, yet filled with a vast assortment of valuables. Coins, gems, and jewelry spilled from overflowing chests. Memory orbs overloaded shelves and were interspersed with enchanted weaponry. Old shields hung from the few bare walls, their surfaces covered in dust.
He advanced through the piles of wealth, resisting the temptation to dive into them. This time he had a different purpose, and after a few minutes of searching he found what he sought. Forgotten beneath a jeweled dagger sat a book the size of his palm. When he opened the cover, light blossomed from the paper. It solidified into a hovering page fashioned of glowing letters.
He reached up with his free hand and flicked the page to the side, examining the lettering. He grunted in irritation when he found the text of unfamiliar origin. The book was one of the few relics from the extinct ancient race that had inhabited Lumineia over forty thousand years ago. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the language.
He closed the book and pocketed it before returning to the door. He paused when his eyes fell upon a massive sapphire. The jewel had been carved in the shape of a snarling cat. Black jet had been added to the face, giving the creature dark eyes. Unable to resist, he reached out to it.
His fingers probed the shelf beneath the cat and he sensed the tingling of power attached to the hind leg. He smiled and withdrew an anti-magic dagger to sever the trap.
The tingling faded and he sheathed the blade. Then he picked up the cat.
A piercing shriek exploded through the room as a second trap triggered. The banshee curse crushed his muffling charm and rose into a furious wail. He cringed against the sound. In a single motion he drew his anti-magic dagger and plunged it into the pulsing rune underneath the cat’s position, silencing the curse. As he sheathed the knife the door crashed open.
He spun to find the hulking troll framed in the doorway, an expression of fury twisting his features. The troll pointed his enormous sword at Jack.
“Submit or die, thief.”
“I’ve never been good at either.”
The troll shifted into a combat stance. “Then it appears I get to kill you.”
“If you can,” Jack said with a grin. Then he exploded into motion.
Chapter 2: Undaunted
Jack placed a foot on a lower shelf and leapt, twisting into a flip. The troll’s sword flashed in his wake, crashing into the shelf and sending artifacts tumbling to the floor, setting off a chorus of banshee curses. Jack soared over the troll’s shoulder and landed in the doorway. Curses exploded throughout the room as the wounded shelf collapsed, narrowly missing the troll as he leapt aside.
“You missed,” Jack said.
The troll roared at him and surged toward the door, but Jack was already sprinting down the hallway. Even with Jack’s enhanced speed, the troll gained ground, his giant legs pumping like a warhorse.
Jack raced around the first corner, running up the wall to prevent himself from crashing into it. Sprinting down the hall, he caught a decorative knight’s armor to swing around a second corner. Six steps later he heard the crash of the armor and glanced back—and dived to the floor.
The troll had caught the knight’s spear and yanked it free. Then he hurled it at Jack with lethal accuracy. Only Jack’s reflexes saved his life, and the spear sailed over his shoulder, slicing a shallow line through his tunic.
“Do you always destroy what you guard?”
Jack’s laughter caused the troll to growl and accelerate even faster. Jack swerved around another corner—and found a second troll. The newcomer was already racing toward him, his heaving footfalls causing the floor to shudder. Jack slowed, buying himself precious seconds to think. Then the trolls reached him and swung their blades in unison. The greatswords cleaved the air, one going for his neck, the other for his waist.
Jack rolled his body into a horizontal spin that carried him between the blades. The swords came so close he felt the cold from the metal as it streaked by his face. Then he was through the gap and landing on the opposite side. Slipping around the second troll he accelerated down the hall.
“Do you train to miss?”
The trolls bellowed their fury and surged into pursuit, but Jack had already turned another corner. He reached the stairs and took four at a time until a pair of guards appeared at the top. They shouted in alarm as Jack reached them. He leapt to the handrail and rebounded over their heads, landing in a sprint.
They gave chase but cried out in dismay when the two trolls plowed through them, knocking them to the floor. Jack glanced back in time to see one of the trolls veer off and disappear down a side corridor.
Jack turned a corner and slipped into an open door, closing it softly behind him. He turned to find himself in the kitchen with several cooks staring at him. A couple of dogs ran on a belt, turning a spit on which a turkey roasted. One cook stood with a ladle over the bird, a dark liquid dripping onto the sizzling meat.
Jack raised a finger to his lips to silence the cooks as the troll passed, but the troll slid to a stop and began to retreat. Realizing his hiding spot would not last, Jack turned and wove through the tables and cooks, making his way for the opposite door. To his dismay a female troll swung it open and stepped into the kitchen, straightening to her full stature. High Captain Arana drew her sword but stood her ground as Jack retreated to the center of the kitchens. Behind him the first door open and a troll ducked through the opening.
“How did you know I would come in here?” Jack asked Arana.
“I didn’t,” she replied, “I sent trolls to every exit.”
The cooks shifted uneasily, with several scurrying out of the way. One woman squeaked in fear and fled amidst a cloud of flour. He grinned as she huddled with the others and then he gestured to Arana.
“I suppose you want me to surrender.”
“The castle guard has been summoned. You can either remain until they arrive, or die on your feet.”
“He made his choice,” the troll growled from Jack’s back.
Jack grinned at his tone and looked to find the one who’d caught him inside the strongroom. “Does the damage you do come from your wages?”
The troll sneered at him and took a step forward but Arana barked an order and he came to a halt. Then Jack heard the pounding of feet and rush of bodies. The sound continued to mount as soldiers converged on their location.
Jack shrugged and used the motion to distract from easing his hand crossbow into his grip. He thumbed the trigger to activate it and the bow sprang into place. Arana noticed the weapon and a small smile crossed her features.
“Do you mean to harm me with such a tiny weapon?”
“Of course not,” Jack scoffed. “I mean to escape.”
He raised the weapon and pointed it at the large light orb above his head. Pulling the trigger, he sent a piercing bolt into the glass. It exploded in a shower of sparks. Men and women screamed as the room plunged into darkness. Lit only by the cooking fires, the tables and kettles cast long shadows. Jack retreated into them.
“Hold your ground,” Arana said. “Kill him if he attempts escape.”
Jack’s laughter seemed to come from everywhere. “I have my own door, troll.”
A wall exploded, sending bits of stone and burning wood sizzling into the kitchens. Arana took two steps toward the opening before noticing the explosion had not broken through. She spun back to the door but Jack was already there.
“You have my gratitude, high captain.”
She charged after him as he sprinted into the grand dining hall. A handful of soldiers were rushing toward him but he leapt for the long table. Fine china scattered at his passage, shattering on the floor.
“Kill him!”
“That’s the King’s own plate!”
“Stop him before he breaks the—”
Jack swerved to kick the glass goblet reserved for the king. Renowned as the king’s cup, the goblet had been a family heirloom for centuries. Jack’s boot hit the cup and it went soaring toward the hearth. The guards sucked in a collective breath as it shattered on the stones.
“We all know how ugly it was,” Jack said from atop the table.
He pointed his shadowhook toward the ceiling and sent a thread of darkness streaking away. Blades and arrows descended upon his shadow but he glided out of reach. Alighting on the dark chandelier, he used it to leap to the next. Crossbow bolts streaked past him and clattered off the ceiling.
“Raise the light!” Arana bellowed.
Realizing she knew his shadowhook would not operate under illumination, Jack cast it at the wall and swung toward the archway that led to the great hall. A trio of soldiers stood in the opening and raised their arms as if to stop him. He crashed through them just as the light brightened in the dining hall. He tumbled across the soldiers, narrowly missing being impaled by a loose sword. Then he regained his footing and sprinted into the great hall.
Enormous dwarven-crafted pillars lined the space, aimed to point all eyes to the throne at the head of the chamber. The floor had been polished to a mirror shine, and reflected the darkened chandeliers hanging from massive beams. Enormous stained glass windows lined the upper walls, the patterns depicting great kings from past eras.
The current monarch had commissioned his own portrait to be placed above the main entrance to the hall. Larger than the others, the glass showed a striking man standing with his foot ab
ove a vanquished foe. The sun shone upon his face and his upraised sword. Recently completed, the glass had been conspicuously cleaned, making it brighter than the portraits of his predecessors.
Jack raced between the pillars and angled toward the main gates, but two trolls stood rooted in his path. He saw the glint in their black eyes and knew they would not be moved. A glance revealed soldiers pouring into the hall from all sides, closing the trap.
Still sprinting, Jack pointed his shadowhook toward the rafters above. The moment it attached he leapt to a pillar. Rebounding off its surface, he leapt to the one opposite, all the while shortening the length on the chord.
“There’s nowhere to go, thief!” a voice roared, and he recognized it as the king’s.
The guards fell silent but continued to stream into the hall and surround Jack’s pillar. Jack alighted on a huge beam and looked down at the king’s entrance. Still dressed in his bedclothes, the man appeared rotund and old, causing Jack to grin.
“My liege,” he called, offering a mock bow. “Your window fails to capture your largess.”
“I’ll have your head on a pike!” the king roared, his face reddening with embarrassment.
Jack feigned a languid pose and ignored the threat. “But I suppose it couldn’t be helped. Your belly alone requires its own window . . .”
Another intake of breath reverberated across the hall, and the king’s face blackened with fury. His jaw worked but no words came out, and Jack wondered if the pulsing vein on his forehead would burst.
“But rest easy, my Lord,” Jack called. “I’ll make certain your craftsmen have another attempt at capturing your girth.”
Laughing at the man’s sputtering rage, Jack sent his shadowhook streaking into the rafters once more and then swung toward the window. A stillness filled the hall, as if every soldier could not comprehend what Jack was about to do. The next instant his body crashed into the glass, shattering the image and sending colored shards cascading to the floor. Instinctively the men ducked but the trolls merely shielded their eyes, the glass bouncing off their bodies. As the sound of cracking glass faded one voice filled the hall.