by Ben Hale
“When did they leave?”
“Gwen was nine,” Gordon said, his voice turning empty. “But it had been coming for a while. I fought in too many battles and saw too many friends die. I hadn’t fallen into a bottle, but I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was reprimanded, and then again. Shortly after I was dismissed and it got worse.”
Now that he was talking he didn’t seem inclined to stop, and Gordon shared the tale of his wife’s departure in all the bitter details. When Gordon finally fell silent Jack came to a halt and turned to his friend.
“I wager you need a mug.”
“I’ve never told anyone, not even Ursana.”
“Then why me?”
Gordon regarded him for several moments. “Ursana healed me, Jack, but she didn't do it alone. I count myself lucky to call you friend.”
“I thought you said I have a talent for inciting anger.”
He smirked. “You do, but it’s actually fun to watch you use that ability on others.” Gordon then looked about. “Where are we?”
They had turned off the waterfront an hour ago and made their way into the southern stretch of the city. The city guard maintained a small castle a short distance from the waterfront, and the structure housed the reigning duke that governed the province.
“This is where Duke Orbon lives,” Jack said. “His tax collectors are bound to have a manifest for Skorn’s shipment. The cargo will obviously be false, but the day and time of arrival will be accurate. Just look for one that is signed by the Talinor Mercenary Guild.”
“Me?”
“It’s a simple paper grab,” he said. “I have another assignment to attend to. I’ll meet you in the Crusty Keel tonight.”
“You’ve been disappearing a lot lately,” Gordon said, frowning. “And you hardly left your room on the ship—even at mealtimes.”
“Just tired,” Jack said. “Being chased by assassins is exhausting.”
“You’re loving that,” Gordon said with a grin. “So what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing you need to know,” Jack said with a disarming smile. “Good luck on your assignment.”
Gordon reluctantly nodded and strode away, and Jack found an empty alley. Once he was certain he was alone, he used his pocket Gate and disappeared from view. Several hours later, the Gate appeared in the same spot, startling a vagrant wandering by. Jack appeared and strode past him, making his way back north to the tavern. The sun had set in his absence, and the workmen and sailors now sought relief from their labors.
He reached the tavern and stepped inside, spotting Inna with Ursana in the corner. As he took a seat at their table Gordon joined them. Gordon slid a parchment onto the table and Jack bent to examine it.
“It’s the only shipment guarded by them in the next week,” he said. “And it gets here in three days’ time.”
Inna’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s guarded by a full company—a hundred men. What could be so valuable?”
“I’ll tell you when we open it,” Jack said, leaning back in his seat.
“We can’t possibly get past so many,” Gordon said, “especially Talinorian mercenaries.”
“They will take the open streets,” Inna said. “They will not want to get caught in a narrow one. But we cannot assault them directly, and once they get their cargo into a warehouse it will be impossible to retrieve.”
Ursana cracked a smile. “We’re thieves,” she said. “We do not assault. We steal.”
Jack grinned and gestured to her. “You have an idea.”
“We know the warehouse they are going to,” she said. “And we have three days to prepare.” Then she laid out her plan. When it was finished Jack nodded in approval.
“She’s smarter than you, Gordon.”
Gordon laughed lightly. “A fact I already knew.”
“Have you lost your wits?” Inna asked, her expression incredulous. “You cannot possibly believe he would fall for that.”
Jack smirked and flipped the parchment over. Withdrawing a quill, he began to make a list. With each item he gave them specific instructions. When Jack was finished he looked to each of them, adding to Ursana’s plan until they all agreed. Then he tore the parchment into four pieces and distributed them to his friends.
“You want me to be a thief?” Inna shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Ursana laughed and took her list from Jack. “Welcome to the fun side of villainy.”
Jack and Gordon laughed and they split up. For the next three days they prepared for the theft. Although the paperwork they had stolen had no details on the structure or its protections, it did list one of the builders. Gordon managed to track him down and get what they needed over a mug of ale. The man had seen mages implementing their work while he’d fortified the walls, and his insights allowed the thieves to piece together the rest. The night before the arrival, the four of them gathered in a thief refuge on the east side of Keese.
Unlike the standard guildhalls, the refuge was small. Located in a wealthier neighborhood of Keese, the house stood two floors high but contained a secret cellar accessible by tracing a rune with one’s shadowhook onto a mirror. Jack descended the stairs to find the other three already present, and accepted the plate of food from the caretaker of the home. The aging thief inclined his head to Jack and then departed.
The cellar contained a quartet of sleeping rooms and a small armory, as well as a spacious map room with large maps of the region in tubes in the wall. A new map lay on the table and Ursana and Inna pored over it. Light from bracketed light orbs provided soft illumination in the secret chamber.
“What do we have?” Jack asked, taking a seat and beginning to eat.
Still nursing a headache from his conversation with the builder, Gordon rubbed his eyes. “There aren’t very many curses,” he said. “But what it lacks in magic it makes up for in ingenuity.” He pointed to the parchment on the table.
“The entire warehouse is a strongroom,” he said, “and contains two smaller buildings inside.” He pointed to the square at the center of the space. “You have to pass through the outer structure and a secondary building to reach the smallest, the one that houses the cargo. The doors are designed so only one of the strongrooms can be opened at any one time.”
“No way to open all three at once?” Inna asked.
“The dwarf who designed them built them on a gear system,” Gordon said. “And the gears are connected to each door. Given time, I suspect Thalidon and Roarthin could break through, but we don’t have the time.”
“What about when they bring it out?” Ursana asked.
“There’s no way we can get past a hundred Talinorian mercenaries,” Inna said. “They are smart and well trained. And they keep the cargo on a wagon at all times in case it needs to be rushed out.”
“Will our plan work?” Jack asked.
Gordon cast Ursana an apologetic look. “No. The walls, the roof, and even the floor have been fortified against a breach.”
“Then we have nothing,” Ursana said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“Perhaps not,” Jack said. “If I can get inside, we can still use Ursana’s plan.”
“It looks like a warehouse,” Inna said, her expression doubtful, “but it’s a fortress—and watched by the standard garrison in addition to the company bringing the cargo. I doubt even you can get past them.”
“Challenge accepted,” Jack said, and grinned.
Chapter 16: Talinorian Mercenaries
The next day the caravan entered Keese through the eastern gate. A full company of Talinorian mercenaries rode before and behind, their hands on their swords, their eyes sharp and wary. In their midst ambled a wagon drawn by a quartet of horses. Lashed to the wooden platform, a steel crate jostled as it passed over the threshold of the city.
A city official stopped them and asked for their papers, which the lead rider provided, along with a sack of coin. The man browsed the papers and stepped on the tongue of
the wagon, ascending to the crate. He did a cursory inspection without asking for the crate to be opened and then descended to the street with a smile.
“Workmen are repairing the main road, Captain Herrick,” he said. “It will be slow going.”
Tall and bearing a jagged scar from nose to cheek, the bald man sneered at the official before accepting the papers and mounting his big roan stallion. As he took his place the other soldiers smoothly fell into a circle around the wagon.
Dressed in grey uniforms, the Talinorian mercenaries wore the insignia of a sword plunged into a skull. The scars and tattoos on the hardened men were deterrent enough, and the crowd parted without a word being spoken.
The soldiers closest to the wagon carried loaded crossbows, the barbed tips reflecting the evening light. The timing of their arrival was planned, avoiding the afternoon rush of workers returning home from work. With the sun low on the horizon, red and gold light cast the city in long shadows.
When the caravan reached a fork in the road, Captain Herrick spotted the workers toiling in the main street, repairing a damaged section of the cobblestone. The work forced the pedestrians to one side of the road, narrowing it so a wagon could barely fit. His eyes narrowed and he stabbed a hand to the side, directing the caravan to the northern throughway. From the roof adjacent to the crossroads Jack smiled, watching them drive the wagon around the work.
“Welcome to Keese, Captain,” he said to himself, and turned away before he was spotted.
Striding to the alley across from the building, he leapt it and advanced parallel to the caravan. He would have liked to keep them in view, but the Talinorians were experts, and were likely to spot a man in a cloak on the roofs. He reached one of the mercenaries that had arrived earlier that day and knelt before him. Tussled and gagged like a pig for dinner, he glared at Jack.
“I’m grateful for your assistance,” Jack said. The man growled through the gag and shook his head, but Jack merely smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to escape on your own. No one will be looking for you.”
Jack reached up and passed his hand over the amulet on his neck, and his face shimmered. His dark hair lightened, his eyes changed color, and his features widened. The bound man stared in shock as Jack’s features changed to match his.
“Good luck getting free,” Jack said, in the voice of the bound mercenary.
Jack left the roof behind and descended to the street below. Then he followed the wagon to the warehouse the Talinorian mercenaries owned, keeping his distance. From down the street Jack watched the door open wide enough for the wagon train to enter with ease. Through the opening, he spotted the second door.
The exterior of the building was just a shell, and housed a smaller warehouse inside. Forty feet separated the two, providing a gap between the outer warehouse and the inner one. An abundance of light orbs illuminated the space, erasing every speck of shadow. Jack smirked as he saw it, recognizing the pattern of light orbs as one intended to prevent thieves from using shadowhooks.
“You prepare for what you know,” Jack murmured. “But how do you stop what you don’t anticipate?”
As much as Jack wanted to walk through the door with the cargo, he had a schedule to keep, and he waited until the door had ground its way shut. When the guards resumed their positions, Jack strode across the street in a bold stride, aiming for the small door adjacent to the cargo door.
“Yorth?” one asked. “Why aren’t you—”
“Captain Herrick summoned me,” Jack said, breezing past the guards and grasping the door handle.
The guards made no effort to stop him and Jack swung the door open. He entered and slowed, marveling at the defenses arrayed against him. As he made his way to the second building, he kept his eye on the crossbows trained on him.
The second strongroom was fifty feet tall, with a mounted crossbow on each of the four top corners. Soldiers sat behind the huge weapons on swiveling seats, and kept the large bolts trained on the forty-foot gap between them and the exterior of the warehouse.
Jack advanced around the interior structure until he came to a door leading through it. The doorway was flanked by two soldiers with naked swords in hand, their shadowed eyes suggesting a propensity for violence. When he reached the opening, the first guard stepped into his path.
“Yorth,” he said. “You are not permitted here.”
“Captain Herrick summoned me,” Jack said.
“Where’s the writ of consent?”
Jack stepped in, ignoring the blade that appeared on his throat. “He told me to come immediately,” he said. “Do you want to be the one to disappoint him?”
The man scowled, and after a moment retreated. “I’ll lead you to him.”
Jack saw the suspicion in his gaze but stabbed a finger at the door. “Captain’s waiting.”
He pushed the door open and gestured for Jack to go first. Jack did as requested and made his way into the second warehouse to find the interior much like the first, except this one contained a quartet of guards patrolling the space around the smallest warehouse.
Jack listened to the guard’s footsteps behind him and glanced back to see his blade low but pointed at him. Jack wanted to taunt him but guessed the guard’s caution was part of the mercenary training, meaning his persona, Yorth, would know that. With an effort, Jack managed to hold his tongue.
“What’s Captain Herrick’s favorite cheese?” the man abruptly asked.
Jack looked back. “He doesn’t like cheese.”
The man sniffed but did not respond, or take his gaze from Jack. Jack hid a smile, glad that he’d researched Herrick before the assignment. With the blade still at his back, Jack strode around the smallest structure to the final door and made his way to it. His companion signaled the guards and the soldiers opened the door for him.
Through the opening Jack spotted stables on one wall, as well as a number of offices and an armory. Soldiers were in abundance, and in the midst of them sat the wagon that had just come in. A driver sat on the driving bench, his hands still on the reins, while another soldier tied feed bags onto the steeds.
As Jack passed through the opening, he felt a tug at his throat, and the magic of Lorelia’s amulet evaporated. Realizing his persona was gone, Jack leapt forward—into a ring of blades. The swords extended to his throat on all sides, bringing him to a halt. Then Captain Herrick himself appeared in front of him.
“I don’t care for thieves in my home,” he said, folding his arms.
“My apologies, Captain,” Jack called. “But I must relieve you of your cargo.” Amid a ring of steel, he smiled.
His words elicited a smattering of laughter, but Captain Herrick did not smile. “Jack Myst,” he drawled, signaling to his archers that were placed about the room. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to kill you myself.”
Thirty crossbows took aim at Jack. “I’m curious,” Jack called. “Do you have to pay for what you lose? Or will Skorn take your head as payment?”
Herrick scowled. “Blade and bolt stand ready to cut you apart, yet you still cannot hold your tongue?”
“No,” Jack said, and grinned.
“You expect to challenge two hundred men and survive unscathed?” He issued a mocking laugh. “You’ll be dead before you can touch the wagon.”
“Or I steal what you have while you choke on dust.”
The man’s eyes narrowed and he raised a hand to his crossbowmen, “I hope you enjoy your death, thief.”
“Tell me,” Jack said. “Do you know the master you serve?”
“Skorn is just like any other benefactor,” Captain Herrick said. “He pays and I deliver.”
“What if I paid more?”
“Once a contract is set, I never deviate,” Captain Herrick said. “Unlike thieves, I have morals.”
Jack burst into a laugh. “Says the man serving a devil.”
Captain Herrick sneered. “His coin is as good as yours. Too bad you didn’t think to contract me earlier. I could hav
e been allied with you.”
“I would never contract with you,” Jack said. “Because I don’t work with men as dirty as the sewers of Terros.”
“Says the guildmaster of the Thieves Guild,” Captain Herrick snarled. “Any last requests?”
“What time is it?”
Captain Herrick shook his head in confusion and glanced to his men. One shrugged and offered, “Nightfall.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jack said with a satisfied nod.
Captain Herrick’s features turned suspicious. “Why does the time matter to you—”
“Shhh,” Jack interrupted. “I’m trying to listen . . .”
Fury lanced across Captain Herrick’s expression at the interruption, but he hesitated. The rest of his men followed his example. For an interminable second the silence filled the warehouse, and even the horses fell silent.
From directly beneath the warehouse Ursana aimed her large crossbow at the ceiling of the sewer. She triggered a single bolt, which splintered into needles of steel that slammed into the ceiling, the sound audible to Jack as a muffled thudding. Men twisted to look at the floor, and Jack used the distraction to flip his crossbow into his hand and fire his own splinter bolt.
The bolt shattered into a score of needles, which curved and spread into a circle around the wagon, all except one. The single needle plunged into the rune placed on the wagon tongue by Gordon, who’d donned the persona of the guard at the city entrance. Then the remainder sank into the floor, burying deep into the stone and detonating those beneath.
Gouts of fire exploded in a circle around the wagon, sending horses and men scrambling away. Swordsmen instinctively retreated as the wagon disappeared behind a wall of flame. Dust and smoke blossomed into the trembling warehouse. Horses screamed, men shouted, and the entire wagon dropped into a hole of smoke and dust.
Chapter 17: Talinorian Fury