by Ben Hale
“How can one man be so infuriating?” Thorne growled.
“Practice,” Jack said.
Jack cast his shadowhook into the now darkened balconies and streaked out of the ring of death. Thornes attacked on all sides but Jack never stopped moving. He leapt and twisted, diving through the railing of a staircase and then flipping to a lower level. Mirages filled his vision, their blades nicking his flesh and cutting his clothes.
He leapt left and right, hurtling up and down the turret. The mirages were too quick, coming at him from all sides, their blades drawing closer to his throat. He caught a handful of books and threw them into the mirages, trying to identify which was real. The records passed through the Thornes and clattered on the floor. One sliced through the book, sending a burst of pages into the air, the papers floating through the mirages.
Marking the fakes, he targeted the others with his hand crossbow, and sent bolts streaking through the mirages. He cast his shadowhook and leapt to the opposite side of the turret. Bolts exploded in his wake, filling the air with paper and smoke. The mirages flickered, all except one.
Jack caught a railing and plummeted to the floor, aiming his crossbow for the last. He fired three times, the first detonating against the floor to cover Thorne in smoke, the second froze the ground, covering his feet. The third plunged into the assassin’s chest—but passed through him.
Realizing he’d been tricked, Jack spun. But Thorne darted from the shadows and wrapped his arm around Jack, his serrated dagger on Jack’s throat. Jack growled in irritation as he realized the assassin had made his mirages flicker, leaving one for Jack to target.
“Normally I let my mirages kill my targets,” Thorne snarled, “But I’d like to kill you myself.”
Jack twisted his hand, bringing his dagger up toward the assassin’s gut. The assassin saw it coming and shifted, hurtling Jack into the wall. Before Jack could move shackles of light appeared and bound him to the stones with shimmering bolts. Jack strained to pull free but the bindings refused to budge.
The other Thornes evaporated and the real assassin stalked forward, placing the tip of his serrated dagger on Jack’s throat, his hand trembling with fury. The assassin’s chest heaved with exertion, his features tight with pain. Blood stained his clothes and his hair lay in disarray.
“You’re getting blood on my tunic,” Jack said.
“At least death will silence you,” he snarled, and leaned in for the kill.
Abruptly he froze, his eyes going wide. He looked down at the tip of a knife suddenly protruding from his chest. Shock flitted across his features, his dagger tumbling from his hand as he stumbled back. He tripped and went down on his knees before collapsing to the floor.
“Impossible,” he muttered. “You’re just thieves . . .”
The enchantments binding Jack evaporated and he stepped away from the wall. “Even thieves can kill,” he said.
The assassin finally went still and Jack turned to find his savior. To his surprise it was the redheaded hopeful, who leaned down to pull her knife free. She wiped the blade on Thorn’s shirt before returning it to its sheath. Then she stood and met Jack’s gaze.
“Jack Myst,” she said. “I thought you’d be taller.”
Chapter 3: The Assassin’s Heir
“I’m tall enough,” Jack said, indignant.
She flushed at his response, betraying a touch of inexperience. “I just meant your reputation is larger than you know.”
“You’re not here to join the guild,” Jack said. “So who are you?”
“Inna,” she said, “and no, I’m not here to join the guild. I came to kill him.” She gestured at Thorne’s body.
“You’re an assassin?” Jack asked, surprised.
“I am,” she said.
Her expression lacked the darkness that assassins usually had. He fleetingly wondered if she’d come to collect the bounty herself, but something in her expression put him at ease.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“My father would have,” Inna replied, and her lips tightened. “If Gallow hadn’t killed him.”
“Who was your father?” Jack asked.
“Joren,” Inna replied, “former guildmaster of the Assassin’s Guild.”
Intrigued, Jack cocked his head to the side. Before he could speak the door burst open and thieves flooded the hall of records. Beauty’s eyes widened when she saw the devastated hall. A page floated down on her shoulder. She brushed it off and turned to Jack, her eyes flicking to Thorne.
“I thought you’d be dead,” she said.
Thalidon absently wiped blood from a cut on his forehead. “How did you kill him?”
“I didn’t,” Jack said, gesturing to the redhead. “It was Inna who slew the assassin.”
Beauty raised an eyebrow and stepped to her. “Thera,” she said, introducing herself. “But they call me Beauty.”
“I can see why,” Inna said. “You fared well against Thorne.”
“How many did we lose?” Jack asked.
“Four,” Thalidon said. “It would have been more but the copies began disappearing.”
“Jack took his focus,” Inna said. “He couldn’t maintain that much magic.”
“You could have intervened sooner,” Jack said.
She shook her head. “Thorne is adept at battling multiple foes. I had to wait until he was too focused to notice. Otherwise we’d both be dead, and I could never tell you Skorn’s plan.”
Jack peaked an eyebrow. “You know of Skorn?”
Inna’s eyes flicked to the other thieves. “Skorn has allies in every guild. What I have to say is for your ears only.”
Jack saw the resolve in her eyes and grinned. He gestured to Thalidon. “Care for the dead,” he said, “and make certain the wounded are tended to. Beauty, with me.”
“I said it was for your ears only,” Inna protested.
“She is my ears,” Jack replied. He held her gaze until she scowled and looked away.
“What about him?” Slyver asked, gesturing to Thorne’s body.
“Feed him to the alligators,” Jack said with a shrug.
Jack turned from the archives and threaded his way back into the fortress. Ascending a spiral staircase to the top of the turret, he reached a door and stepped outside. He blinked at the bright moonlight and strode to the center of the platform.
Spanning the gap between the tallest turrets in the fortress, the circular bridge provided an unbroken view of the Evermist swamp. Steeped in green fog, the trees seemed to shift and fade, undulating in patterns of moonlight. An alligator infested lake was just visible beneath the blanket of mist, which curled up the walls of the fortress like a living beast. The mist shrouded the citadel, making its size impossible to discern.
Jack turned to Inna and Beauty. “What do you know?” he asked Inna.
Inna glanced at Beauty and then her eyes returned to Jack.
“You can trust her more than you can me,” Jack said with a smile.
“It’s true,” Beauty said with a grin.
Inna hesitated before relenting. “My information comes with a price.”
“If it’s coin you seek . . .”
“No,” she said hastily. “What I seek is retribution.”
“And you think I can deliver it?” Jack asked, folding his arms.
“You survived against Gallow—more than once,” she said. “And I want your help to kill him.”
“How am I supposed to help you do that?”
“When you go after Skorn, I go with you. Gallow is nearly always at his side.”
“Do you know where Skorn is?” Beauty asked.
“No,” Inna said, “but I know what he’s doing.”
“If what you say is true,” he said. “You can join me on the assignment.”
“Jack,” Beauty began. “You have work here.”
“No,” he said. “If Thorne’s appearance has proven anything, it means the assassins can reach anywhere. I can’t stay here.�
� He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on his features.
“Are you excited?” Inna asked. “The moment you leave here you will be hunted by assassins from across the globe.”
“I know,” Jack said, his voice turning positively gleeful.
“Is he always like this?” Inna asked Beauty, clearly shocked to see Jack’s response.
“Always,” Beauty said sourly.
Jack could hardly contain himself. After being trapped in the guildhall for months, he would have faced a thousand Thornes if it meant he could leave—as himself anyway. There was no need for Beauty to know he’d slipped out of the guildhall under the guise of different personas.
Inna now seemed uncertain, and Jack saw the calculating glint in her eye. Her expression was familiar, for he’d seen it in the mirror as a youth. She’d spent years preparing to go after her father’s killer. She’d been unsuccessful on her own, and decided to find an ally. The doubt in her gaze indicated she wasn’t confident in her choice.
“What do you know?” Jack asked.
She hesitated, her eyes flicking between them. “I’ve been keeping track of Gallow for years,” she finally said. “I’ve witnessed much of his conflict with you, and used it to eliminate members of his guild. With him serving Skorn, he hasn’t had time to gather the guild and replace them. Killing Thorne cut his ranks down to three.”
“You said you’ve witnessed Gallow’s conflict with Skorn,” Beauty said. “What have you seen?”
“For one, the destruction of Margauth.”
Beauty’s eyebrows rose. “You were there?”
“I was camped on a ridge overlooking the fortress,” she said. “I thought to take advantage of the conflict to kill Gallow, but by the time I descended he’d fled. Then I saw Jack activate the implosion hex that decimated the citadel.”
“You saw something,” Jack guessed, hearing it in her voice. “Something we didn’t.”
“Skorn returned the night after the battle,” she said. “He came back for the remains of the beacon.”
Jack shook his head. “You saw the implosion hex. If anything survived, it would be bits of trash.”
“The beacon was of ancient make,” Beauty said. “Perhaps it was only damaged.”
“He found something,” Inna said. “And he’s going to rebuild it.”
“It’s been months since that battle,” Jack said. “What took you so long to get here?”
“Same reason Thorne didn’t find you earlier,” Inna said. She strode to the edge of the railing and swept a hand at the Evermist. “I nearly died in the swamp trying to find you. I was forced to wait until your guild invited prospective thieves to join your ranks.”
“Do you think he’s already completed the beacon?” Beauty asked.
Inna shook her head, making her red hair dance. “I suspect if he had, we would know about it.”
“As wise as you are beautiful,” Jack said.
“His cult members are spreading across Lumineia,” Inna said, ignoring his comment. “Gathering material to rebuild his beacon. They board ships and then disappear. I haven’t been able to find a pattern.”
“We’ve had similar difficulty locating Skorn’s new lair,” Beauty said.
Jack strode toward Inna but she retreated. Noting the response, he came to a halt. “So we find his beacon and destroy it.”
“I said I don’t know the location,” Inna said. “But I do have a contact on Kulldye Dreg that might know something.”
“The pirate island?”
Jack had heard of the island’s nefarious reputation. Said to be a hive of killers, pirates, and outcasts, it contained the refuse of society, the dregs of the five kingdoms. A faint smile crossed his lips as he thought of exploring its streets. He turned to Beauty, but she raised a hand to forestall his words.
“Don’t think I’m not coming with you,” Beauty said.
“You think to watch my back?”
She smirked. “I can try—but you don’t listen well.”
“True,” he said. “Inform Forlana she can take my place while I’m gone.” He grinned. “I’ve given myself an assignment.”
“Just the three of us?” Beauty asked.
“For now,” Jack said. “I’d like to keep it small until we know what we’re dealing with. Get Inna some quarters she can feel safe in.”
“Done,” Beauty said, and motioned Inna toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“One more thing,” Inna said. “Betray me, and I’ll kill you faster than you can draw breath.”
Her tone echoed harsh and rigid, but Jack burst into a laugh.
She scowled. “You think to mock me?”
Beauty gestured toward the door as Jack continued to laugh. “You just made it more fun for him.” Beauty said.
“Has he lost his mind?” Inna asked in an undertone.
“No,” Beauty said, meeting his gaze. “He’s just been cooped up too long.”
“Beauty,” Jack called, and she looked back.
“Don’t manipulate me again.”
All trace of his humor was gone. He relished the idea of leaving the guild, but he hadn’t forgotten what Beauty had done. She was his friend, one of the few he trusted, or thought he could. But the affection they shared made her manipulation sting all the more. He held her gaze until she nodded slowly, and Jack saw the apology in her eyes.
Once they were gone he returned to his office, his previous levity returning in force. Stepping through the door, he dismissed the guards and strode to the vault at the back of the space. Then he withdrew the key from his pocket.
The vault door contained a series of levers that had to be turned in an exact sequence to open it, or the guildmaster could use his key. The night Jack had become guildmaster he’d woken to find the key on the stand beside the bed. He’d taken no thought for it, until the following night he woke to find it in his palm. Then he’d realized it was linked to the current guildmaster, and used it to open the vault for the first time.
Jack stepped to the door and placed the key against the surface. The key stuck fast and began to turn, rotating to point at each lever. The tumblers turned in response, answering the call from the key. When finished, the key leapt back into his hand and Jack swung the door open.
Technically, everything in the space belonged to him, making it less fun to steal. Fortunately, he’d found a few secrets within the vault that he doubted his predecessors had known about—one in particular that he kept to himself.
The vault had also contained a warning from Lorelia. Instead of sharing it, Jack had decided to use it as a weapon, but never anticipated the burden it would carry.
He glanced behind to ensure he was by himself and then strode between the gold, jewels, and priceless relics. Chests sat on shelves, their contents spilling onto the floor. Jack passed the coin without a glance and came to a room at the back. Small alcoves looked back at him, the items within taken from strongrooms throughout Lumineia.
He stepped to one and reached to the back, pressing the hidden trigger that opened one of the secret alcoves he’d found. He’d taken the previous item for himself, and now used the space to store a few items he wanted kept secret. Gathering them, he placed them in the hidden pouches in his thief’s webbing. Then he closed the latch and exited the vault.
It shut behind him with an odd note of finality, causing him to look back and stare at the cold door. Then he shrugged and turned toward his quarters. He packed everything he would need, checking and rechecking like it was his first assignment. When he was finished he reclined on his bed.
He stared at the ceiling, a smile spreading across his features. Of the several plans he had in motion, this would undoubtedly be the most fun. After becoming guildmaster, he’d ensured Ero’s arrival and then set other plans into motion.
Inna had been right, he would encounter assassins at every turn. As if that wasn’t dangerous enough, he would be attempting to infiltrate Skorn’s ranks, a world rife with
its own threats. To top it off he faced Gallow and Skorn. Again.
The excitement he felt would not be contained, and he spent the night fidgeting. He hadn’t been so ready for an assignment since he first became a thief. Like children the night before their birthdays, he slept fitfully. When the clock finally chimed in the morning he grinned.
“Time to kill a devil,” he said.
Chapter 4: A Thief Unbound
Jack rose and gathered his gear. He stepped from the room and ascended to the same platform where he’d spoken to Inna. It was early, with dawn yet to break on the horizon. He breathed deep of the misty air and smiled, relishing the impending journey. When he returned to his office Forlana was already at his desk.
She raised an eyebrow at his appearance. “You never rise before me.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack said.
“Too excited?”
He grinned. “Beauty told you?”
“It appears our attempt to contain you has come to an end,” she said wryly.
“You shouldn’t have manipulated me.”
She skewered him with a look. “Don’t pretend you don’t have your own secrets.”
Caught, he laughed and gestured to the pile of parchment that perpetually seemed to mar the smooth wood of his desk. “I hate to leave you with everything.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, and slid a hand across her bald head. “You are a good thief, Jack, but a terrible guildmaster.”
He should have been angry, but Forlana’s honesty caused him to grin. “Were you this frank with my predecessor?”
“Yes,” she said. “I thought you’d be offended.”
He shrugged. “We both know the truth.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If it helps, I think you can improve.”
“It doesn’t.” He grinned and turned toward the door. “You’ve been doing most of my job anyway. I’ve just been here for looks.”
Her laughter followed him into the hall. He followed the stairs past Ember Hall, the chamber reserved for upper level thieves. He spotted Ursana training on the climbing walls and paused. Then he noticed Gordon on the wall with her and stepped into the room.