by Ben Hale
“Did you find the Necrolith?” he asked.
“I did,” she said.
Beauty detailed what she had seen as they shared a meal, and the dwarves gradually lost their smiles. When she finished they sat in silence, their stew cooling in forgotten bowls. Then Roarthin grunted.
“How many in his army?” he asked.
“At least a thousand in the village and the ruins,” she replied. “But the Necrolith is large enough to house four times that number.”
“We have four hundred,” Thalidon said. “At best.”
“And they have the defensive position,” Roarthin said with a scowl.
“Let’s hope Jack has a plan for this,” Beauty said.
“Where is he?” Thalidon asked. “We can’t exactly assault the Necrolith without our guildmaster.”
Beauty had no answer, and as they speculated on Jack’s absence she found herself wondering how Jack knew so much about the Necrolith. His list had included detailed directions to its location, and even contained instructions on when the assault should begin.
“We have until tomorrow morning,” Beauty finally said.
“To do what?” Roarthin asked.
“We take the ruins at sunrise,” she replied. “Then we wait.”
Thalidon leaned back against a log. “Even if we take the ruins without discovery, it won’t be long before Skorn’s army notices our presence. They will retaliate, and even with the Gate we will not be able to escape.”
Beauty considered her answer, recognizing the moment as a precipice. If she planned the assault on the ruins it would put the entire Thieves Guild in a dangerous position, risking everything on Jack’s mysterious plan. Or she could act contrary to Jack’s instructions and the thieves would obey her, potentially saving their lives.
She felt the insane urge to laugh, realizing that the moment had come. She had to trust Jack . . . or forsake him. Doubt assailed her, and abruptly she realized it came from her youth. Every day she’d been trained to live with caution, to trust her instincts. But Jack was asking her to act with an entirely different emotion.
Faith.
She thought of every time he’d snatched victory from defeat, and every time he’d saved her life. And done so with a smile. Everyone in the guild seemed to trust him, and now it was her turn. Despite her instincts, she nodded.
“We’ll clear the ruins at dawn,” she said. “Then we strike.”
Thalidon measured her response. “Are you certain?”
She should have been concerned but instead it was a smile that crossed her face. “I am.”
The dwarves exchanged a look and nodded in unison. Then Roarthin gestured outward. “We cast entities to watch our camp. Get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”
She unrolled her bedroll and lay down with her back to a gnarled oak. It should have been difficult to sleep but she was out in seconds, and woke when Roarthin touched her shoulder. She blinked awake and his bearded features came into focus.
“It’s time.”
She rose and donned her cloak, accepting the crust of bread and wedge of cheese from Roarthin. They ate in silence, and Beauty looked to the sky to gauge the time. Light had yet to touch the horizon but the constellations indicated sunrise was imminent. She finished the bread and then stood, and the dwarves stood with her.
“Roarthin,” she said. “You’re with me. Thalidon, bring the guild through and lead them to the ruins.”
“As you order,” they said, and Roarthin followed Beauty from the camp.
As they left the camp, Beauty looked back. Thalidon stripped the top off the wagon and pressed the rune leading to the Evermist guildhall. A moment later thieves poured into view, stepping onto the wagon before dropping to the ground. Ten became twenty, and then she lost count.
Beauty turned away and returned to Axe, putting the saddle on and climbing onto the steed’s back. Roarthin mounted another horse and together they guided their horses to the road. She cast a sound charm, tuning her ears to the darkened forest. She smiled when she heard a padding of metallic footfalls and spotted a flicker of movement.
“Why wolves?” she asked.
“I like wolves,” Roarthin said, and smiled. “They remind me of a girl I once knew.”
She laughed, suspecting there was more to that tale. They trotted up the road in silence until she cast him a look. “Are you here for Skorn . . . or Jack?”
“I could ask the same of you,” he replied with a grunt of amusement. “Skorn killed your sister, after all.”
“And Skorn imprisoned you for two decades just to ensure obedience from Thalidon.”
“I would love to say that I’m here for Skorn,” Roarthin said. “But I find myself inspired by a thief.”
She laughed in chagrin. “You aren’t the only one.”
He grinned and they turned their attention to the road ahead. Beauty had dealt with the sentries and Thalidon had taken the unconscious forms back through the Gate, but the sudden absence of the guards had likely already been noticed.
They left the horses half a mile from Seastone and approached on foot, easing into a vantage point on the hill above the ruins. For several minutes they watched the guards patrolling the ancient fortress.
“Same as yesterday,” she murmured. “Only ten left to guard the ruins.”
Thalidon’s bushy eyebrows were knit in thought. “They should have noticed the sentries were gone.”
“He knows we’re coming,” Beauty realized.
“The question is, did Jack expect this?”
She smiled. “I suspect he did.”
He drew his axe and twirled it in his hand. “Don’t forget, these aren’t hired men simply doing a job. These are cult members committed to the cause of Skorn. If you are not lethal, they will be.”
“I’m a barbarian,” she said. “Remember? I’ve probably been in more battles than you.”
He grunted in agreement. “I’ll slip around the back and come from the north.”
“I’ll go in through the main gate.”
Roarthin nodded and slipped away, his two wolf entities following him out of sight. Beauty stepped from the trees and worked her way down the slope, reaching the gate as one of the cult members stepped into view. Beauty darted in and swung her sword, striking low. Despite her words to Roarthin she hesitated, striking for the man’s leg.
“Stay silent,” she growled as the man fell.
His face twisted in pain, the man fumbled for a dagger. “Intruder!” he cried, and raised the blade.
Beauty growled to herself and deflected the dagger, plunging her sword into his heart before leaping toward the sounds of running men. Part of being a thief was combat—but not killing—and she realized she’d lost the edge she’d gained as a barbarian. It was disturbing how quickly it came back.
A man turned a corner and raised a sword, howling as he lunged for her. Beauty angled her body, allowing the blade to slide past her as she rotated inside his guard. She swept her sword across his stomach and twirled around him, driving her weapon into the next man that appeared. She leaned into a kick, sending his body into the woman behind him, flicking her crossbow into her palm. She fired a single bolt into the woman’s throat and leapt over them, casting speed as a trio of cultists aimed crossbows at her.
Dodging bolts, she leapt to a hole in the ground and dropped into a tunnel, sprinting through the corridor littered by aged stone and moldy beams. She heard someone drop into the tunnel behind her and twisted, firing a bolt at the same time they did. Hers found its mark. His didn’t.
The man grunted in surprise and went down, and Beauty dropped speed in favor of strength, leaping through a hole in the ceiling to land in the courtyard. The other crossbowmen turned on her, but she darted to a ruined wall and leapt above it, alighting next to one of cult members. She caught his crossbow and turned it aside, forcing him to fire into his companion on the next wall. Then she sank her sword into his body and hurled him to the courtyard stones below.
She dropped down after him, rolling to absorb the impact. Then she spotted a dwarf striding toward her, fire blossoming in his hands. The flames formed into a shimmering blade as he advanced upon her.
“You have no idea what you are up against,” he snarled.
Beauty leapt to a wall, kicking off it and spinning, hurling her sword with lethal precision. The sword plunged into the dwarf’s chest and he tumbled backward, his fire blade dissipating into smoke. As he gasped for life she strode to him and pulled her sword free.
“Neither do you,” she said.
Roarthin appeared at her side. “You could have left some for me,” he said. He wiped the blood from his axe on the dead dwarf’s tunic.
She ignored him and strode to the cliff, peering down the winding path to the village below. Shouts echoed off the Necrolith and men rushed about, clearly gathering into ranks. She released an explosive breath and turned to Roarthin.
“They’re coming for us,” she said.
They both turned when the clopping of a horse sounded on the road. Roarthin smiled, “At least the Thieves Guild is here.”
They exited Seastone and stepped onto the road, but came to a halt when they spotted the approaching riders. Roarthin summoned his wolves and twirled his axe.
“Those aren’t ours,” he said.
“But they’re mine,” she breathed.
Tears blossomed in her eyes as Golic dismounted and strode to her, engulfing her in a huge embrace. He set her down and grinned, the expression remarkably like when they were children. Now he towered over the barbarians dismounting with him.
“Who brought you here?” she asked.
“Who else?” Golic asked with a shrug, and held aloft a piece of parchment.
She stared at the scrawl of Jack’s writing, shocked to realize Jack had stretched beyond the Thieves Guild for aid. Golic grinned at her stunned silence and gestured to the barbarians that formed up behind him.
“Father is here,” she said.
“We know,” Golic said. “And we are ready for him.”
Beauty’s gaze swept the group, and saw many faces she knew. Then she spotted Valia, and the girl stepped forward, inclining her head. The girl was now a woman dressed for war. Blue paint marked her flesh like a beast had raked its claws across her features. Her fearsome appearance contrasted sharply with her smile.
“Thera,” she said. “I hope you have a good battle for us.”
“We are assaulting a superior position and are outnumbered,” she said. “Even with your aid.”
“What about everyone else?” Golic asked in confusion.
“Who?” Beauty asked.
Golic and Valia turned and pointed back down the road, where others were just appearing at the bend. Beauty’s eyes widened when she spotted hundreds of soldiers rounding the curve. Their disparate uniforms marked them as coming from different kingdoms and guilds. There was even a group of rock trolls striding in their midst. Roarthin began to laugh, his entire frame shaking with amusement.
“It appears Jack brought his own army.”
Chapter 42: A Thief’s Army
The barbarians retreated before the rock trolls, their hands on their swords. The lead rock troll ignored them and strode to Beauty, flicking his hand to his companions. The rock trolls spread out and advanced into the ruins, obviously checking for threats.
“Thorvaldur,” the leader said, inclining his head as he identified himself.
“Why are you here?” Beauty asked, staring up at the massive troll.
The rock troll lifted a scrap of parchment and handed it to her. “I received a summons from Jack Myst,” he said, a smile playing on his features.
“And you came?”
“Life is always intriguing when he is involved.”
“You can say that again,” Sirani said, speeding to join them in a gust of wind. “Where is our handsome devil, anyway?”
“Not here,” Beauty said, causing Sirani to pout.
“We cannot start the festivities without him.”
“We may have to,” Beauty said. “I believe he has another assignment.”
Another rock troll appeared at Thorvaldur’s side. “Skorn’s army is on the beach below. They were preparing to charge but are now aware of our presence. They await our advance.” She then turned to Beauty and grinned. “Jack’s last invitation proved to be interesting. We could not pass up another.”
Beauty blinked in sudden understanding. “You were the trolls at Margauth.”
“A fine battle,” the female troll said.
“I never got the chance to thank you,” Beauty said. “I’m sure you don’t normally contract with thieves.”
The two trolls exchanged a smile. “King Tryton was . . . irritated, but I think he understood. Kythira was another matter.”
Beauty laughed wryly, recalling that Jack had infiltrated the king’s quarters to steal the contract. Kythira’s children had been sleeping in a nearby bedchamber, and she’d responded with the fury of a protective mother. Jack had narrowly escaped.
“I’m grateful you have come,” she said, and motioned to Golic. “This is my brother. I suspect the two of you have the most combat experience. May I ask that you lead the battle?”
The rock troll peaked an eyebrow. “You won’t take that honor for yourself?”
“I have a different assignment,” she said. “But I’m confident that you and Golic will do better than I.”
Hearing his name, Golic stepped close. He stood well over six feet tall, his huge body dwarfing the other barbarians. But he had to look up to meet the eyes of Thorvaldur. To his credit he did not flinch.
“I’ve always wanted to meet one of your kind,” Golic said.
Thorvaldur grinned. “I as well. Do you really battle in the snow?”
“Frequently,” Golic said with a laugh.
As the two warriors strode toward the ruins of Seastone, Roarthin stepped in and lowered his tone.
“They may hail from different races, but those two bear a striking resemblance.”
Beauty grinned and turned to address the next group ascending the road. The force of mercenaries were from Griffin, and apparently had been hired by Jack. The man despised the Talinorian mercenaries and told Jack he would take the contract.
The next group was dwarven, their leader a white-haired smith named Urthor. Brilliant and shimmering in the dawn light, his axe drew the gaze of everyone around. The other dwarves were equally as armed, and she got the impression they were all smiths. The crotchety dwarves hurled insults at Roarthin, who returned them with a smile on his face.
More allies continued to arrive, and from every corner of Lumineia. Val’Trisian appeared with a contingent of dark elves, while Paro and the remaining abbots of the Church of Light came in armor and geared for war. There was even a quartet of librarians from the Library of Worchestan that arrived with staff and sword. The weathered old man leading them was spry for his age, and seemed eager for the impending battle.
A small group of elves came from the elven mage guild, and said they’d come on behalf of an old friend. Shortly afterward Ursana arrived with Gordon—and Rista and Gwen. Beauty raised an eyebrow to Ursana, but the girl would not meet her gaze.
The soldiers of Talinor kept looking at their orders, clearly doubting their veracity. The Griffin army had brought an equally large force, and the two groups cast uncertain glances at each other.
Some came for coin, others for adventure, but most came for Jack. All carried scraps of parchment with Jack’s handwriting scrawled across them. Thieves from the guild mingled with the strange army, the conversation laced with laughter and tales of Jack Myst, the atmosphere almost festive.
As their ranks swelled Beauty found it difficult to speak. Jack Myst was a thief renowned for provoking others, yet he’d managed to cobble together an assortment of races and creeds under a single banner.
Thalidon appeared, leading the wagon that held the Gate, the mirror once again hid
den under the wagon’s covering. He pulled the wagon off the road and dropped to the ground. For a long moment he stood in mute shock, staring at the army swarming the ruins. Then he approached Beauty.
“What happened?”
“They just showed up,” she replied. “Came to join the battle.”
“Jack?”
She nodded. “Jack.”
He released a belly laugh. “He never ceases to surprise, does he.”
Inna strode to Beauty, and the assassin’s shock matched Beauty’s. “I never thought I’d see thousands ready to fight for a thief.”
“Least of all one like Jack,” Forlana said.
Dressed in armored thief blacks, Forlana and Kuraltus joined Beauty. Both looked ready for combat, and carried additional daggers in various sheaths. Beauty noticed their proximity and suppressed a smile.
“The rock troll and the barbarian have a battle strategy,” Kuraltus said. “They just disagree on who should lead the charge.”
Abruptly a dark elf stepped from the shadows and came to Beauty’s side. Everyone retreated at Aranis’s appearance and Inna drew her sword, but the dark elf assassin smiled beneath her cowl.
“I’m a friend,” she said. “Today at least.”
“Let me guess,” Inna said. “You’re here for Jack?”
“I am,” she said. “But I didn’t come alone.”
A rumbling snarl came from the trees and Beauty spun to face the threat. Fear lanced through her body as a massive beast stalked into view, its jaws bared to reveal metallic teeth. Beauty swallowed and retreated, drawing her blade in a smooth motion.
“You brought a black reaver?” Thalidon growled, fire blossoming in his hands.
I’m here at Jack’s request, dwarf.
Beauty flinched as the beast spoke into her mind, surprised at the female voice. Then she noticed the scars across the animal’s arms and chips in the steel spikes protruding from its back—and realized why the beast looked familiar. She lowered her sword.