Witches vs Wizards

by Adam Bennett

  Rolf sucked in a deep breath. Even Skullsmiter gaped at her.

  “You’re the Shadow?” Sven asked, feeling stupid.

  “One and the same,” she said, a ghost of a smile turning up the corners of her ruby red lips.

  “I don’t believe it,” Skullsmiter said, leaning close. “You’re just a girl. An Elf girl, at that. Whoever heard of an elf thief?”

  “No one, and that’s the way I’d like it to stay,” she replied. “My name is....” She paused, as if considering what to reveal of herself, which Sven thought entirely sensible. “You may call me Dari.”

  “Thank you, Dari,” Rolf said. “The gentleman sitting beside you is none other than Skullsmiter, whose fame precedes him.” Skullsmiter frowned; Sven wondered if he understood what Rolf had just said. “This is my cousin Sven, who now prefers to reap danger rather than wheat. And I myself am Rolf.”

  “Prove it,” Skullsmiter said.

  “Prove what?” Rolf asked, puzzled.

  “Not you, her. Prove you’re a thief, girl. Show me by deed not by word, that you’re the Shadow, as you claim.”

  She turned her head and stared at Skullsmiter. “Tell me, Fenris Skullsmiter,” she said, “what is the most precious thing you own?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Come now, you asked for proof. I would guess it’s made of silver, this thing. Finely crafted, and bearing the seven signs of the High Astronomicon. A good luck charm, thrice-blessed by the priests of Alder. Am I right?”

  “If you’re reading my mind, girl, I’ll wring your skinny little neck here and now, so help me.”

  Sven, for no reason he understood, reached for the dagger he kept in his boot. The hilt felt uncommonly slick and difficult to grasp. His hand was sweating. As was the rest of him. Was he really prepared to draw his dagger to defend Dari? He didn’t even know her.

  “If I could read minds, Fenris Skullsmiter, I would have no need to steal to make a living,” Dari said. “I know what it looks like because I have it in my pocket.”

  Dari reached within her robe, the movement revealing an area of creamy flesh. Sven looked away but not before she caught the direction of his gaze, adding to his embarrassment.

  Skullsmiter’s startled expression when Dari pulled the silver amulet free and held it dangling from its chain was a pleasure to behold.

  “Sorcery,” he declared, snatching it from her, but it was a half-hearted accusation.

  “I am no witch,” she told him, placing two bent copper coins on the table top, along with a lump of dry black meat, nibbled at one end. Skullsmiter recognized them at once and quickly grabbed them off the table, as if he expected Sven and Rolf to lay claim. Sven wouldn’t have touched the meat if he was starving but didn’t want to upset Skullsmiter by saying so. The silver amulet surprised him, though. He recognized fine elven craftsmanship. Such rarities, he knew, possessed high value. It could easily purchase this tavern twice over. He wondered whose corpse Skullsmiter had looted it from.

  “Alright,” the mercenary said, having returned his belongings to his jerkin pockets. “Maybe you are who you say you are. But beware, elf. Try that again and you’ll lose some fingers. Understand?”

  “I understand you very well, Fenris Skullsmiter,” Dari said, and Sven sensed her amusement. He noted how Skullsmiter didn’t correct her for using his full name.

  Rolf said, “Now that everyone’s happy, shall we discuss the night’s business?” Receiving nods from around the table, he went on, “Magus Xandor is known to be in the capital, taking part in the annual games tournament. His bodyguards will be with him. That leaves his house undefended, with a fortune in silver and gold in his treasure room.”

  “It’s not undefended,” Dari said.

  “Well, no, not entirely. We know there is a token guard. I estimate four men at most. Possibly fewer.” Rolf looked at Skullsmiter. “We’ll be depending on you to handle them. Sven and I will back you up, of course.”

  “Who are they?” Skullsmiter asked.

  “Mercenaries from the Northmark. Will they pose you any problems?”

  Skullsmiter snorted his derision. “I won’t need your help against that scum. Best if you just keep out of my way and let me do my sword work.” Skullsmiter’s unwavering confidence impressed Sven. Perhaps he’d been wrong to judge the man by his appearance and manner. Perhaps.

  “Do you have a plan of the house interior?” Dari said.

  Rolf shook his head, looking disappointed. “Alas, no. We tried to discover—”

  She took a rolled parchment from her sleeve, opened it and spread it across the table. They craned their necks to peer at the beautifully drawn interior layout of Magus’s house. Sven wondered whether Dari knew any of the elven artisans who’d worked in the house. She must have obtained her information from somewhere.

  “I suggest we go over the east wall,” she said, pointing the spot out. “The trees and shrubs will conceal us. There’s a side door, here. It isn’t guarded because it’s kept locked at all times.”

  “If there are guards inside, I’ll take care of them,” Skullsmiter said. His toothless grimace put the fear of death into Sven, who remembered he was holding his dagger beneath the table. He carefully returned it to its sheath inside his boot. Dari watched him while Rolf and Skullsmiter studied the map. Sven knew that she knew, and again he blushed.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Rolf asked.

  “Nothing,” Sven replied. “Where’s the treasure room?”

  “Here, I think,” Dari said, pointing a slim finger at one of the few areas on the map that remained blank.

  “You think?” Skullsmiter’s tone carried equal annoyance and accusation. “Don’t you know?”

  “There are three possible locations. We will have to check them all. Once we get past the pieces, that is,” Dari said.

  The tavern keeper’s daughter, Brunhilde, came to their table with a tray. Dari swiftly rolled the map up and slipped it inside her sleeve, but Brunhilde only had eyes for Rolf anyway. “May I fetch more drinks, sir?” she asked as she collected their empty cups.

  Rolf returned her smile, no doubt well aware that her father was scowling his disapproval at his daughter’s love for this penniless young man with no prospects. “Thank you, no. My friends and I must leave soon.” His fingers lightly brushed her hand and her cheeks flushed red. She took her tray to the bar counter, smiling back over her shoulder at Rolf. Her father leaned over the counter to whisper into her ear. Sven could guess what he was saying.

  As always, Sven tried to conceal his jealousy. And his disappointment that Brunhilde never even looked at him whenever Rolf was around. She was a fine girl and more than once he had contemplated what it might be like to be the object of her desire.

  “What do you mean by pieces?” Skullsmiter said, continuing the interrupted conversation. “Pieces of what?” At least he’d remained focused on the subject at hand.

  Dari said, “Magus Xandor is expected to win the tournament again this year. He must practice to maintain his skill level. We will encounter the pieces from his game board.”

  Sven wasn’t sure he understood. And then he did. “He plays magic monsters.”

  Dari nodded. “This is so. With any luck they will be dormant while their master is away.”

  Skullsmiter banged his fist on the table again. “You’ll tell me what you’re talking about, or else I’ll—”

  “The pieces are alive,” Sven told him. He gestured to the games table, and Skullsmiter followed his gaze. The miniature version of magic monsters was being played at this very moment. The game involved creatures the size of his hand—their magician creators called them chimeras—doing battle with each other while seeking to gain possession of hidden treasure chests scattered across the board. He always found it fascinating to watch the various pieces as they clawed and hacked each other to death. He’d refused an offer to join the game when he came in earlier. He just couldn’t afford the bets. Perhaps afte
r tonight, things would be different.

  “Alive, how?” Skullsmiter shook his head.

  “Sorcery,” Dari said simply.

  Realization suddenly struck Sven. He knew that while the tavern game involved small magical creatures the size of his hand, the annual games tournament in the capital took place in a huge arena with high walls fortified with magic wards—which were necessary to prevent the monstrous chimeras conjured for the tournament from escaping and rampaging through the city. The pieces in Magus Xandor’s house would not be miniature. Nor would they vanish in a puff of green smoke when someone rolled the bone dice.

  “We’re talking about full size pieces, aren’t we?” he said.

  Dari nodded.

  Skullsmiter pondered this for a moment. “If they’re alive, does that mean they can die?”

  “They are created to die, so yes.”

  “Then they better keep out of my way.” Skullsmiter looked around the tavern. “If we’re not drinking, why are we still sitting here?”

  Rolf said, “What say you set off first, Skullsmiter? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves by leaving in a group. I’ll follow you in a few candle-slivers. Sven and Dari can come after me, bringing up the rear. We’ll rendezvous near the east wall of Magus Xandor’s house at midnight. Agreed?”

  Skullsmiter got up without another word and headed for the door. Everyone gave him plenty of room, recalling the fate of the squat man with the twin knives.

  “I would have suggested we toast to the success of our venture,” Rolf said, “but I didn’t want to risk taking the edge off our courageous warrior’s reflexes.”

  “He’s trouble, that one,” Dari said. “When it comes time to divide tonight’s spoils, beware. His greed outweighs his honour.”

  Rolf said, “How do you know?”

  Dari looked puzzled. “How do you not know? It could not be more clear were it written across his forehead in runes.”

  “Will you still come with us?” Sven asked

  Again she stared at him with those calm eyes of hers. He felt himself falling into their immeasurable depths. “I would not be here otherwise,” she told him.

  “We’ll deal with Skullsmiter if and when the need arises,” Rolf said, surprising Sven. He got up. “I’ll see you both at midnight. Don’t be late.” He made his way to the door. Brunhilde reached him just as he was about to leave, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. Sven noted her worried expression; had she somehow sensed something was afoot? Rolf’s easy smile and whatever he said failed to reassure her. He opened the door and stepped out into the night. Brunhilde sighed and returned to work, her brow furrowed. Sven felt sorry for her but he had his own worries to deal with, not least of which was the possibility of treachery from Skullsmiter.

  “That just leaves us,” Dari said.

  “Aye,” Sven said, wishing he didn’t feel so tongue-tied and stupid in her presence.

  “You don’t know what to make of me, do you?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve met elves before.”

  She chuckled, a melodious sounds. “Male elves.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re smitten with me and don’t know what to do next. Am I right?”

  So much blood rushed into Sven’s head that he thought he must surely faint. “Is it so obvious?” he managed to say.

  “There’s no need for embarrassment,” she said. “Human males find our perfume irresistible. That’s why our diplomatic delegations are exclusively male.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I thought it important you should know. Because I could never love you, Sven Wheatfarmer who is now Sven the Thief. Accept this, and save your adoration for someone more worthy than I.”

  “Can such a person exist?” he blurted as she rose from her seat.

  “Oh yes, she exists. I cannot read minds but I can glimpse your future. I see it clearly even as I sit here. The lady does not love you now, but she will.”

  Sven exhaled sharply, stunned by this news. “But who is this lady?” he demanded. “When will I meet her?”

  Dari shook her head. “In time you will come to understand why I can reveal no more. Shall we depart? It may have slipped your mind, but midnight approaches and we have a fortune to steal.” She smiled again and stood up. “Let’s not keep it waiting.”

  As they headed for the door, something at the games table went bang! The crowd cheered. A plume of crimson smoke rose toward the ceiling. One of the tiny chimeras had just perished. Sven wondered what awaited them in Magus Xandor’s house.

  ***

  They crouched in the shadow of the wall, listening for any sounds alien to the night. Moonlight gleamed off Skullsmiter’s iron helmet . Armed with a huge sword, he looked even more dangerous than before. Again Sven wondered what he and Rolf would do if Skullsmiter turned on them. But this would happen once they found the treasure, not before. They would have to be prepared.

  “Enough waiting,” Skullsmiter said. “Let’s do it. Give me a leg up, boy.”

  Sven put his back against the wall and joined his hands together, hoping the mercenary hadn’t stepped in anything on the way here. Skullsmiter put his boot in his hands and Sven heaved with all his strength. Skullsmiter went up and over the wall and landed heavily on the other side. Dari went up next, a wraith who made absolutely no sound at all. Lastly, Sven launched Rolf, who sat atop the wall and reached down to help pull Sven up. They jumped down together and crouched among the bushes, listening for foreign noises that might indicate their discovery, but there were none.

  Skullsmiter led the way forward through the overgrown garden. Dari flitted out to his left, a smaller, more delicate figure. Sven and Rolf followed in Skullsmiter’s wake. Ahead, Magus Xandor’s house loomed, a solid shape in the darkness. No light shone from any window. Perhaps the guards were asleep? Sven wanted to believe it, but couldn’t afford to. Far more likely the Northmark mercenaries, renowned for their ferocity, were sharpening their swords and hoping some idiots would come their way tonight to alleviate their boredom.

  The cautious advance halted. Sven made out the doorway. Dari pressed an ear against it and he knew her sharp elven senses were probing beyond the thick wood. Apparently satisfied, she crouched down and worked at the lock.

  Sven's stomach was knotted with tension. He glanced at his companion. Rolf’s smile showed even in the low light.

  Something clicked. The door swung open.

  Skullsmiter leaped through the opening, sword ready. At least the man was no coward. Dari slipped inside after him. No one shouted alarm and no sounds of desperate fighting reached their ears.

  Dari beckoned to them. Sven followed Rolf, his sword gripped tightly in one hand, dagger in the other. His uncle, Rolf’s father, had been a soldier in the King’s Guard. Hearing his uncle’s adventure stories as a boy, Sven had realized he could never be a farmer like his father. But there hadn’t been a war for nearly ten years. The King’s Guard wasn’t recruiting and couldn’t offer young men escape from the drudgery of farming life. So here he was, Sven the Thief, skulking in the night, risking death and worse for the sake of a few coins. Well, hopefully more than a few. His father had long since disowned him, but Sven suspected his uncle might have given one of those lopsided smiles of his and secretly winked his approval.

  A torch mounted in a wall bracket suddenly flared to life. Others did likewise. Sven and Rolf exchanged glances.

  “A minor conjuration,” Dari said, as if that explained everything.

  The torchlight illuminated a straight corridor. Twenty paces on, the corridor opened up to left and right, then split into further corridors. The place was a maze. The guards had quarters in the south corner, which lay in another direction. If luck was on their side, they might not encounter the Northmark mercenaries at all. He sent silent prayers to all the gods he knew, then became aware that Rolf and Skullsmiter were arguing, the latter making no attempt to whisper.

  Sven pushed past Dari who sto
od watching them, wide-eyed. He touched Rolf’s shoulder. “Are you mad? You’ll wake up the dead with this noise!”

  “I said I’d deal with the scum,” Skullsmiter said. “And so I will. I’m not going to skulk like some coward and wait for them to ambush me.”

  “We’re here to steal the Magus’s treasure,” Rolf said. “Not for you to pursue some personal—”

  Skullsmiter put his big hand against Rolf’s chest and roughly shoved him away. Off-balance, Rolf staggered against the wall. His lips formed a thin line and for an awful moment Sven thought he was going to attack the mercenary. But then Dari said, “You shall have your wish, Fenris Skullsmiter. They are coming.”

  The sound of clumping footsteps echoed along the corridors. Rolf looked back at the door they’d entered through, then at Dari and Sven. Their choice was obvious: leave now, or press on toward the Magus’s treasure. Dari made Sven’s mind up for him—she ran past Skullsmiter and disappeared around a left turn. Skullsmiter hardly noticed her pass him; he was questing around, trying to guess which direction the guards were approaching from. The footsteps seemed to come from every direction.

  Sven slapped Rolf’s shoulder. “Come on!” He ran after Dari and just glimpsed her as she turned right into another corridor and then left down another, always keeping ahead of him. Sven hadn’t realized the house was so damned big inside. He panicked when he realized he’d lost sight of Dari. Where had she gone?

  She emerged from a doorway and ran around another corner. Sven ran past the doorway. The room beyond was dark and empty. He reached the corner and saw her emerge from yet another room. Once again she ran on, keeping ahead of him. The room she’d just left was also empty. He realised she was checking them out, searching for Magus Xandor’s treasure room.

  He ran past an opening, stopped, back-stepped and spotted Dari at the far side of a square chamber shrouded in darkness. She was moving her hands over what appeared to be a blank section of wall. The wall shifted, apparently turning upon a hidden pivot. Dari ducked through the clever opening. Sven caught a glimpse of a small room beyond, and a globe that sat upon a column. It gave off bright golden light as if it were burning, yet he saw no flame.