The Hidden Illusionist (Thieves of Chaos Book 1)

by Deck Davis

  “Why should I?” he said.

  In answer, she held up her hands, where a purple ball grew in her palms.

  “Get in the carriage, Dantis. I won’t ask again. You can keep your toy, if it makes you feel better.”

  What else could he do? Renton was dead, and the Brotherhood acolytes were approaching. He’d been stupid to think he could escape. The only thing in his power to choose was who he went with – the woman, or the acolytes?

  “The carriage it is,” he said.

  Chapter Six

  Ethan

  He hoped Renton had found Dantis. Renton was a good guy, and he felt guilty for involving him. Renton was a traveler, and he wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. Then again, neither was Dantis, really. He’d adapted to it because it was the only choice he had, because Ethan couldn’t make a better life for them. Double pangs of guilt hit him. I’ll see you soon, brother. And then we’ll find somewhere to settle down.

  Bander hummed as when walked alongside him, and his grey ponytail shook with each step. Ethan didn’t know the tune he was making, but it quickly burrowed into his head. Bander wore a belt around his leather armor, and a black-handled dagger stuck from one loop.

  Bander took long strides, not seeming to mind the sun beating down on his leather armor. Golden rays of it washed over his face, illuminating the rune-shaped scars on his cheek and neck.

  “Wondering where I got my scar?”

  “No…I…”

  “Every recruit wonders. Some of them even work up the courage to ask me. It was my father. He was an angry guy, and one night, he was drunk and he heated up a sword and pressed it against my face.”

  Movement in the forest to his left drew his attention. A lizard the size of his head was sitting upright - like an ape - on a felled log. Sunlight shone through cracks in the trees and illuminated the tuft of brown hair that sprouted from its skin.

  It tried to move, but its leg was stuck in a hollow slit in the wood. It squeaked. Ethan approached it.

  “Don’t go in there, Ethan,” said Bander.

  Ignoring the guild master, he approached the lizard. It squirmed away from him, then stilled as Ethan helped it unhook its leg from the wood. Freed, it scampered back.

  Hot breath hissed in his ear. A weight settled against him, and something sniffed his face.

  “Don’t move,” said Bander. The fear in his voice worried Ethan. Bander was a tough guy, by the look of him. If it scared him, then it was something worth being scared about.

  A gust of breath blew on his cheek. An animal grunted, then stamped on the ground. It’s behind me. He wanted to see it. Every cell in his body urged him to turn around, but he didn’t want to make a sudden movement.

  Boots crunched on twigs. “It’s okay,” soothed Bander. “We’re leaving your forest now. We’re going to go, if you’ll let us.”

  It snorted in his ear, sending a jolt of fear through him. What was it?

  “Turn now, Ethan,” said Bander. “Slowly. Whatever you do, no sudden movements.”

  He turned, scared of what he’d see. When he did, he came face to face with another lizard. It resembled the one he’d helped, except it was six feet tall, and muscled rippled under its scaled skin. Auburn hair spread across its back like moss. It looked like it could tear his arm off with the slightest effort.

  The lizard screeched at him. Rows of jagged teeth lined its gums, and rotten breath invaded Ethan’s nostrils.

  “Come over to me now,” said Bander. “He’s letting you go.”

  They left the forest and went back onto the mountain path. It snaked upward, curling toward a castle-like building nestled at the top. The guild was a long way from Wolfpine, and it was remote. He wasn’t worried; right now, Renton would be with Dantis, he hoped, and he’d escape from here in a night or two. He just had to choose his time carefully.

  “So, you wanted to know why we keep the heroes’ guild on the mountain?” said Bander.

  “I didn’t ask that.”

  “But you were thinking it. I saw it in your face. Not used to walks like this, are you, lad?”

  “It’s been four bloody hours since we left Wolfpine. And since you mention it, yeah; I was wondering why the guild is on top a goddamn mountain, rather than in a nice, convenient place like a town.”

  “The forest is full of klizerds, like you just saw,” said Bander. “A dozen families by last count, with around twenty members each. They let us pass if we stick to the path, but you don’t want to get caught in the forest. You were damned lucky. I’ve seen recruits lose arms.”

  “I was only trying to help.”

  “I know. But sometimes, help is interpreted differently. Why do you think we’re happy to have a forest full of klizerds near the guild?”

  “Because anyone who wants to attack the guild would sneak through the forest, and they’d get ripped apart.”

  “Correct, lad. But there’s another reason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It means none of you buggers can run away from the guild, either.”

  “Okay…but why the mountain? It’s not the only place with good defense.”

  “The forest and its klizerds mean you have to be on guard, even in your own home. It keeps dullards like you mentally agile. Climbing the mountain every couple of weeks builds stamina, gives you grit. You need to remember: every journey starts with a commitment, and it’s a struggle to see it through.”

  “You could have just sewn that on a cushion and built the damn guild in town…”

  He kneeled. When Bander turned to look, he pretended to be tying his bootlaces. Then, catching up to Bander, he brushed his hand along the guildmaster’s belt. It was a light touch, not enough for him to feel, but enough for him to pocket the knife that had been wedged into a loop. Don’t know when I’ll use this, but it’ll come in handy.

  The heroes guildhouse was a stone-built mansion that once belonged to a rich land owner, Bander had explained. After the heroes’ guild rescued his wife from a dungeon, he gifted them the estate. Four giant turrets marked each corner of the building, and sunlight glistened on hundreds of windows.

  The mountains surrounded at the back of the house, with a lightfall gushing over the rocks. These were like waterfalls but made of golden rays sucked from the sun. Giant, arched windows stared out from one wall of the guild, with statues of warriors on either side. The walls glowed bright blue in some places, where luminous-moss had spread. It was an expensive house, but it wasn’t a pretty one; the architecture was jagged, full of spiked turrets and stones. Two banners hung beside the entrance doors, displaying the sword and shield heroes’ guild emblem.

  It took Ethan only a few steps to judge its security. He weighed up its locks, its windows, anywhere a person might break into if they wanted to steal from it. If this were a prospective job, he would have backed away.

  A gavel pathway led to the entrance, and on one side there was an herb garden full of multicolored flora. Sweat-drenched recruits tugged at the herbs, which buzzed and banged. They must have been used for bomb making.

  On the other side, heroes practiced sword drills with each other. As they twisted, pirouetted, and countered, Ethan longed for his blade. These boys were younger than him, but their technique…it was so refined, so quick.

  Pah. They were little rich boys sent to the guild by their daddies, who probably paid a master swordsman to tutor them from the age of two. They didn’t know what it was like to learn things yourself, to live on the streets. Ethan had learned his swordplay fair and square, the proper way.

  He was glad to see the guildhouse, even under duress. It meant he could stop walking. His body ached for rest, and he wanted to collapse to the ground. He willed himself to stay on his feet. Was falling a good first impression to give? No.

  His pleasure at seeing the house soured when guilt filled his mind. Dantis hadn’t been as lucky as him. Walking up a mountain was tough, but the Lava Fields were horrific.

  I should ha
ve done something. I should have changed things. He’d replayed the auction again and again in his mind. Why did he get the easy route? Why couldn’t Dantis come to the heroes’ guild instead, and Ethan get sent to the Lava Fields?

  Because he can’t fight, and I can. And I need to pull myself together and get ready to fight again.

  He would escape from the guild. As soon as he memorized its layout, its routines, and its security, he’d escape.

  Not good enough. Could Dantis wait that long for him? Supposing the Brotherhood of Fire used their fire trials straight away?

  His stomach lurched. He couldn’t wait. He’d have to escape tonight.

  Suddenly, his wrist scar burned. He looked at it and saw that it had spread. There was hostility in the air, but where did it come from?

  “This way lad,” said Bander.

  The recruits on the grass watched him pass. I’m a celebrity here. Charged for treason – they must think I’m so cool. Everybody admired a lovable rogue – that was why people wrote so many books about them.

  “Scum!” said one recruit.

  “Watch your stuff around this thieving bastard,” said another.

  They glared at Ethan as Bander ushered him toward the entrance doors. Ethan waited for Bander to speak. Surely he wouldn’t let the recruits talk to him like that? Wasn’t everyone in the guild supposed to get along?

  Bander’s face changed. His kindly guild master expression disappeared, replaced by a stony glare. He prodded his back. “Get moving,” he said.

  The change was startling. Ethan could only suppose Bander was showing his authority in front of the recruits. Maybe he was putting Ethan in his place. Whatever the reason, he didn’t have any allies here

  “I don’t get it,” said Ethan. “If everyone thinks I’m scum, what am I doing here?”

  “It’s a second chance, if you’re not stupid enough to waste it. Ever heard of rehabilitation? I was a thief too, once. You should look on me as an example of what you can achieve if you stop being such a little bastard.”

  One recruit ran over to them, a wooden sword swinging from a sheath on his hip. “Another thief?” he said, then spat on the ground. “I thought this was a heroes’ guild, not a prison. I’ll tell my father. He’ll stop funding you.”

  “Steady, lad,” said Bander, his face tightening with anger.

  The boy pulled out his wooden sword, and prodded Ethan in the chest. “Stay away from my things, thief.”

  Ethan clenched his fists. His cheeks boiled. Dimly, in the back of his head, his ration voice spoke, but he couldn’t hear it. His pulse pounded.

  He punched the recruit in the face, knocking him to the grass. The recruit blinked and got to his feet. Without a word, he turned away.

  Great. Now I’ve done it. He waited for Bander to rebuke him, but instead, the guildmaster squeezed his shoulder. A faint smile curled on his lips. “This way, lad,” he said.

  Then, he stopped. “One thing I forgot to mention,” he said. He flicked his hand, and a black-handled dagger appeared. Ethan patted his pocket and found it empty. “I was a thief too, and I’m a hell of a better pickpocket than you, boy, even if I haven’t done it…professionally for a while. Take some advice; stop thinking of people as marks who you can just take from.”

  Ethan nodded, and they walked on.

  The first room in the guildhouse was a spacious atrium. Recruits pushed brooms on the stone floors, sweeping them free of dust. A broth aroma drifted through the hall, carrying scents of meat, onions, and carrots.

  “What’s a fire-imps weakness?” said one recruit, leaning on his broom.

  “Water, obviously. Ask me something harder.”

  “Bah, what’s the point? We’re gonna pass the critter exam easily. Bladecare is the class I’m worried about.”

  Doors lined the walls. They were giant blocks of stone with rune marks on the front. A recruit walked toward one and held up a purple circular object, like a coin. The rune on the door lit up, and the stone rumbled to the side, allowing the recruit entry.

  Stuffed animal heads lined the walls; boars, bears, wolves. A staircase was in the centre, leading to the upper levels of the guild.

  A man was standing at the bottom. A metal masked covered his face, and red eye gems stared out from it.

  “Lillian?” said Ethan.

  The mage ignored Ethan and greeted Bander with a nod. “You took your time,” he said. Whenever he spoke, his red eye gems flared up.

  “We can’t all teleport.”

  A necklace hung from Lillian’s neck. It was a red eye with a blood tear dripping from the corner. It stared back at him, as if it were real. He held a wooden staff in his hand, with a crimson gem set on top. Lillian produced a vial from his robe, tipped gloppy liquid into it, then applied it around the edges of his metal mask.

  Ethan gritted his teeth. Lillian stirred hate from his bowels, but he couldn’t say why. The mage hadn’t done anything to him. Sure, he’d been rude to Dantis in the justice halls, but he’d barely spoken to Ethan.

  A teenager approached them from a room in the east of the hall. He wore an oversized shawl and hood. A yellow, palm-sized cat sat on his shoulder.

  Ethan felt a shock of cold in his chest. It was the trader’s son, the one he’d fought in the trader’s atrium before they were caught. His right arm, the one Ethan had stabbed in the armpit, hung in a sling.

  “What’s the street rat doing here?” he said, his voice dripping with hate. His cat hissed, and the boy stoked it.

  “Me? What are you doing here?”

  The teen gave him such a glare he felt it burrow into his mind.

  “Yart is Onderill Answerpe’s son,” said Bander. “You know, the gentlemen you tried to rob? I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your memory. He was going to start hero training, before you ruined his arm.”

  Ruined his arm? Couldn’t they heal him? Surely his father was rich enough to afford a healing spell. Ethan didn’t know what to say.

  “Got me good, you bastard,” said Yart. “Spent a week in a mana coma because of you, while they tried to fix my arm. I might be able to use it again one day, but I’ll never fight. You put paid to that. You’ll regret it, rat.”

  “Now, Yart,” said Bander. “You’re both in the guild now. You don’t have to kiss each other, but you will rein in your temper. We still took you on, didn’t we?”

  “As a scribe,” growled Yart. “A god damned scribe. Here to sort all the boring admin shit nobody wants to do.”

  Lillian turned his gem eyes in Yart’s direction. “I told you, boy. You’ll learn magic from me, if you show a proclivity. There’s a role in the guild for you yet. One better than a simple-minded sword thruster.”

  “Lillian…” said Bander. “These ‘sword thrusters’ keep you in a job.”

  “Pah,” said Lilian, waving his hand dismissively.

  A recruit lumbered across the hall and joined Yart. Ethan stepped back in shock. This guy wasn’t just big; he’d been cut from mountain rocks. The hall seemed to shake at each of his steps. On the index finger of his left hand, he wore a signet ring with a red eye on it.

  He was a gigas, a race humanoid in form, but big as hell. True to the fashion of many gigas, the recruit had grown his hair into two long dreadlocks, that he must have toughen with wax or something similar to make them look like horns.

  He glared at Ethan. His hands curled into fists.

  “Settle down, Bunk,” said Yart.

  Bunk was standing next to Yart, towering over him. He didn’t take his eyes off Ethan. Looks like I made a new friend.

  Bander left Ethan and approached the stairway. On the first step, he turned to Yart. “Assign the lad a bed,” he said.

  A bed. Hearing the word soothed him. The sun was setting over the mountain, and after a day or marching, his body begged for rest.

  The guild had other plans. Yart led him up the stairs and into a dormitory. Bunk followed them, his boots thudding on the ground as they went. He made sure t
o stick close to Yart. Was he his bodyguard? It seemed Yart’s father’s fortune bought privileges for his son.

  The entered a room. Beds lined both walls. Each one was perfectly made, so not a single creased showed on the bedsheets.

  “This way, rat,” said Yart.

  He beckoned him to the end of the room, where an open doorway separated it from the bunk room. There was a hole in the stone wall in the corner of the room, through which the forests outside peeked. Was it big enough to squeeze through? He’d explore it the first chance he got.

  On the floor, there was a wooden bucket brimming with water, and a separate one filled with white powder.

  “Strip,” said Yart.

  “I like to get to know someone before I do that,” said Ethan.

  Bunk growled. A prod of his index finger was enough to send Ethan hurtling into the room.

  “Clothes off,” he said.

  Ethan removed his shirt, his undershirt, and his trousers, until he was buck-naked. Wind crept through a cavity and chilled him. Yart folded his arms and stared at Ethan’s body.

  “See something you like?” said Ethan. “Stop gawping.”

  Yart didn’t take his eyes off him. He was staring at the welts that covered Ethan’s chest, back, and legs. Crisscrosses of them scored his skin.

  “Whippings,” said Ethan. “The passage of honor of any thief. Get caught stealing, and you’re lucky if this is all you get.”

  “You’ll get more if you don’t shut up,” said Yart.

  “Quiet,” said Bunk, his deep voice parroting his master.

  He didn’t enjoy being naked with Yart and Bunk staring at him. He felt vulnerable, but he wouldn’t let them know it. He put his hands on his hips and faced them.

  “What’s next, now that you’ve enjoyed the view?”

  They forced him to wash with the water. When he was sopping wet, Bunk threw handfuls of the white powder at him, sticking it to his skin until he looked like he was covered in flour.