The Way of Thieves

by K.N. Lee

  Brenden was already crossing blades with the guards. He defeated one, then blocked a magical attack from the sorcerer with his blade. Keira took a deep breath, thankful he carried his enchanted sword. Without it, that attack would have surely injured him.

  Kerira blasted a fireball toward the sorcerer. The sorcerer deflected it into one of the guards, who screamed as the fire contacted him. Keira tried again, but the fireball was smaller. The potion was running out. She felt the fatigue overcome her, as well as a lowered life-force. Keira didn’t have another potion. She tried again, but nothing came. The potion had depleted. They had another vial of it, but Brenden had it in his sash.

  The sorcerer grinned as he watched her. He raised his hands and a ball of blue ice flew in the air toward Keira. She stepped back and tried to move out of the way, but the magic followed her. It slammed into her, and ice shattered all around her. Keira opened her eyes. She was still alive, and she was undamaged. The ice hadn’t effected her. Keira felt an energy pulse around her, but otherwise, felt nothing. The sorcerer tried again. This time, he let out a fire blast. Keira’s eyes widened as she took a step back. The fire crashed into her, and again, she felt nothing but a pulse of energy across her body. This time, her eyes stayed open, and she watched as the fire dissipated before her.

  While the sorcerer was distracted, Brenden defeated the last two guards, then stabbed his sword through the sorcerer’s stomach. The sorcerer collapsed to the ground.

  Brenden yelled at Keira, but she couldn’t hear him. He ran over to her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to follow him. She snapped out of her stupor and ran after him. They pushed through the last crowd at the exit of the castle. Horns blew in the distance as they sprinted to the forest.

  Keira turned around to see more than a dozen guards sprinting after them. They were still too far away, but they were gaining. She pressed her legs faster.

  They reached the cover of trees. Keira did her best to follow Brenden’s zigzag pattern through the trails. It wasn’t easy in a dress. Her other clothes were still in a bag stashed in the keep. She hoped she didn’t have anything inside of the bag that could be traced back to her.

  Normally, Brenden and her were more careful on their thievery jobs. This one had gone horribly wrong. At least they completed their mission. She touched the pendant around her neck. They’d gotten what they came for, but she wondered at what cost?

  Their faces would be recognizable after tonight, especially with the death of Zebedel.

  Keira collided with Brenden’s back as he stopped in his tracks. She looked over her shoulder and huffed out a sigh of relief.

  They’d made it.

  Brenden stepped forward to untie the two black wyverns from the trees. He checked the saddles to make sure they were secure, then helped Keira on hers before he climbed atop his own.

  The wyverns stretched on their two legs and flapped their leathery black wings that nearly blotted out the light of the moon.

  She held tight, feeling the wyvern’s heat and heartbeat beneath her chest. Exhaling the anxiety of the night, she looked ahead at the city that grew further and further away. A smile rested on her lips as they soared into the sky toward the purple moon.

  6

  Xalvador paced in the dark room, studying the sorcerer chained in the dungeon.

  It looked like the sorcerer had once been a handsome, powerful man. But now, he looked shattered and broken. Yet, even after the countless months of torture, he hadn’t been completely broken yet.

  That would have to change.

  The time for games was over.

  That was why Xalvador was here, instead of someone else. He needed to exceed where everyone else had failed.

  “Good evening,” Xalvador said. “Haven’t you had enough torture yet?”

  The sorcerer glared at him, hatred clear in his sparkling blue eyes.

  Xalvador grinned. “You have been broken in every way possible. There is little more you can endure. Why fight it? Tell us what we want to know.”

  The sorcerer’s lip twitched, and his forehead creased. Dirt and grime covered his face. He hadn’t bathed in months. He hadn’t had access to a privvy in months either, and the smell that filled the air around the man was near unbearable. His hair had once been blond, but after months in a dungeon, it turned black and grimy. Several of the man’s fingers had been smashed and broken as well as his toes. Scars marked his flesh from his face to his feet. Deep gashes from rusty knives. And yet, after all of that, he still hadn’t confessed all he knew.

  “The chains won’t allow you to access your magic. You have been tortured, defiled, and maimed. But, we will not kill you. All of this will continue until we get what we want. However, if you tell me what I want. I promise, I will end your life quickly. The pain can go away.”

  Xalvador brought his hands up to his hood, letting it drop away behind him to reveal his face. His crimson hair glowed in the torchlight. He too had scars across his whole body. Xalvador had been tortured as well, but that was a long time ago, and it hadn’t been in a dungeon but in his own home.

  That was long before he became an assassin, though, it was what had led him down that road. His mother and father had never loved him. They were distraught with his little sister had died, and they’d blamed him. Every day had been torment for Xalvador. He’d missed his sister, and his father and mother had looked at him with disgust and hatred in their eyes, blaming him for her death as he blamed himself. They took it out on him, beating him and cutting him for years.

  It took a long time before Xalvador grew the courage to fight back. But when he did, he opened a part of himself that he never knew he had. He inflicted the same torture on his mother and father that they’d used on him. Xalvador did have mercy though. He didn’t let them suffer long before slitting their throats. He only spent months on torturing them, instead of the years they spent on him. After that, he fled, desperate to start a new life far away from his own home. That’s when he discovered the Assassins Guild, and when he joined, he never felt more at home.

  The sorcerer looked up at him, horrified at Xalvador’s exposed face, pleading in his quivering eyes. Tears on the edge of escaping, but his mouth remained clamped shut. It was obvious he wanted the suffering to end, but he still kept silent. He would divulge the one answer Xalvador sought.

  He approached the naked man holding a thin, dull knife covered in rust. He twirled it around his his palm a few times with a smirk appearing on his face.

  The sorcerer watched him carefully with wide eyes.

  “You will tell me what I want to know, or you will die a eunuch. And I promise you … it will be painful. This isn’t the sharpest knife. It could take hours to complete … but I have the patience and the time … do you?”

  “Please,” the sorcerer whispered.

  He looked at him, waiting, but the sorcerer said no more. Disappointing to say the least. This sorcerer wouldn’t be the first person he’d made into a eunuch and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but after months of interrogation, he’d hope to have more information by now.

  After all, this sorcerer was supposed to be one of the most powerful in Tynaereal. He was supposed to have all the answers. A leader in his own right, perhaps only one or two removed from the head of the Sorcerers Guild. It would explain his diligence and strength, but Xalvador had tortured sorcerers before. All of them had cracked. He would make sure this one would also. They were running out of time to discover the answers they needed.

  He had let all of his best men and women have a crack at the old sorcerer, but he hadn’t budged. Xalvador had the best in the land. He wasn’t the leader of the Assassins Guild without knowing who his best assassins and torturers were. Normally, they didn’t torture many people. After all they were assassins, and most of the time that was easier. Slitting someone’s throat and being done with it was so much easier than extracting information from them. But it was all a part of the job. Xalvador was getting paid to kill this sorcerer, but h
e was being paid so much more for extracting information from him. And it was about so much more than money.

  With this information, he could strengthen his alliance, and soon, the Assassins Guild would no longer be the small guild in the shadows, tossed away in the outskirts of Tynaereal in the southwestern corner away from civilization. Instead, they would be in the thick of things. Regarded and feared as they ruled. Death at every corner.

  Anarchy.

  The thought was beautiful, and an unbalanced, mischievous smile came across his lips.

  Xalvador shrugged, knocking off his dreams and inspirations to focus on the situation at hand. They still had a long way to go. He crouched to one knee, and began his first cut.

  The sorcerer screamed. It was high pitched, and louder than anything he ever heard from a man. He stopped for only a second, surprised to hear the loud scream, but then once his shock wore off, he began his second cut, deeper this time. Blood oozed out of the wound, trickling down the sorcerer’s leg.

  “I’ll tell you,” the sorcerer whispered in a hoarse voice.

  He paused, and lifted a brow. “What was that?”

  The sorcerer tried to find moisture in his mouth, he gagged. All of his moisture leaked out of his eyes. Tears for the pain Xalvador was inflicting on him.

  “I will tell you—anything. Just, please stop.”

  Xalvador tilted a water-skin to the sorcerer’s mouth, which he desperately drank. Once the sorcerer’s mouth was wet, Xalvador grabbed a chair to sit in front of him. He lay the bloody knife on the ground at his feet. The sorcerer glanced down to the blade, shivers running across his body.

  “Tell me about the Scepter of Reverium,” Xalvador said.

  The sorcerer’s eyes bulged. “You know about the scepter?”

  “I do now.” Xalvador grinned. “Now, please. Tell me what it does, and how to use it.”

  7

  Brenden stepped foot in Forscythe.

  Home.

  It felt good to be home. They headed to the stable to drop off their wyverns. Forscythe was a city of thieves in northern Tynaereal. It wasn’t large compared to most cities, but it was the larger of the two thieves’ cities. It was much too hot for him, and he already missed the cooler atmosphere of the south.

  Men, women, children, and wyverns littered the streets. Brenden wished people would pay closer attention to their wyverns. The streets of Forscythe was no place for them. Their scales were hard, and bumping against one of the creatures could inflict a wound, or tear clothing. At least they weren’t as large as dragons. They were a lot more common than their cousins and not as nearly a nuisance. However, the piles of wyvern feces covering the street was something Brenden could live without.

  They reached the east of the city to the stable, where Brenden passed on their two wyverns to the stable boy. He also tossed the young man a few silver coins for looking after them. Brenden never knew how long it would be before another mission. Brenden and Keira were young compared to most thieves, at least, young when it came to actually getting dangerous missions.

  Most thieves their age only received missions for petty thefts. More of the family feud type of thefts. Stealing a pet dog, cat, or wyvern, with the occasional trinket. And most, weren’t allowed near the nobles. Brenden and Keira however, were known for their efficiency and discretion.

  Well, that was before the other night. Brenden worried about the outcome of the royal wedding. Had anyone seen their faces? Had they made a connection? Brenden shrugged it off and headed toward the keep, if it could be called a keep. It was more like a manor.

  Keira grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to give pendant to our leader. It was, after all, she who tasked me on the mission.”

  “And why is that?”

  He lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “Why were you tasked with this mission, and not me? Or, why not both of us? We’ve both shown how good we are. For thieves our age, we exceed anyone else. Yet, I was kept it the dark.”

  He grinned. “It didn’t stop you.”

  “No. It did not. But we’re family, Brenden. And we’re all each other has. We grew up here, and we know nothing about our parents. All they tell us is they died. We need to stick together.”

  With a sigh, he nodded. “You’re right.”

  A smirk came to her lips. “Aren’t I always?”

  Brenden rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you next time I’m given a mission.”

  “You’d better.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I need the pendant.”

  Keira furrowed her eyebrows, then reached to her neck where she felt the gold, dangling necklace. She smiled as she touched it. Shivers traveled along her arms.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I feel something when I wear it. It’s a tingling sensation, like when we consume dragonscale potions.”

  Brenden wrinkled his nose.

  “Do you think this trinket has protection magic?” Keira asked.

  “Don’t tell me you believe the duke’s theory.”

  “His story does have very suspicious circumstances. Do you think it could have a protection spell in it for the wearer?”

  “If his theory is true, then why would someone want to murder his wife? What would they gain?”

  “That is the question,” she said. “Perhaps she knew something someone wanted to keep secret.”

  “Conspiracy? Really, Keira?”

  “We don’t know.” She paused. “Brenden…”

  He tilted his head as he looked at her. Something was wrong. She’d gone pale.

  “That sorcerer attacked me.”

  “He missed.”

  “No, Brenden. He didn’t.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I felt the magic encompass me. And I felt it dissipate.” She ran a hand through her hair long red hair. “I was wearing the necklace.”

  He scratched his chin. “We don’t know if it truly stops magic.”

  “Brenden, I felt it,” she insisted, her eyes searching his. “I know what I felt. The question is, who wants such a necklace. Or, more importantly, who has need of such a necklace. If this necklace truly does prevent spells from being used on the wearer, then this is rare. But, what if it does more than that. The duke said it was supposed to protect his wife. What if it does more than protect against spells. What if it protects against physical attacks as well?”

  Brenden shook his head. “No, that’s not possible.”

  Keira scanned their surroundings. There wasn’t anyone too close to them, but people were on the streets. She grabbed his arm again and dragged him with her into a dark alley.

  “What is it?” he asked when they were alone.

  She handed him a dagger. “Cut me.”

  His eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

  She held out her exposed arm. “Cut me.”

  Brenden shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Brenden. I’ve been in plenty of skirmishes. I’ve been cut, scraped, and beaten more times than I can count. If this is as powerful a pendant as I think it is, I think we should know about it.”

  “I’m not cutting my sister.”

  She grabbed his wrist, and forced it toward her arm. He tried to pull away, but she was too quick. The blade touched her skin, then a pulse of energy flung out of her, causing a vibration that tossed Brenden against the wall. The dagger dropped to the ground.

  Brenden sat on the ground, rubbing the back of his head. He stood, cautiously, biting his lip as he staggered over to her. His head throbbed, pounding hard against the inside of his skull.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “The pendant wouldn’t let you cut me.”

  “You mean, it wouldn’t let you force me to cut you.”

  Keira shrugged. “I needed you to test my theory. I don’t know if it prevents self-inflicted wounds or not.”

  He eyed the necklace danging above her bosom.

  “I was right,�
�� she whispered.

  Brenden continued to stare at the dragon pendant.

  “Say it,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Say I was right.”

  Brenden took a deep breath, and muttered through clenched teeth, “you were right.”

  “Brenden, this pendant is too dangerous to give to the highest bidder.”

  He shook his head. “We have to.”

  “Why?” Keira asked.

  “It wasn’t a market request, or even a buyer request. It was requested by Mirabelle herself.”

  Keira widened her eyes. “The pendant is for Mirabelle?”

  “Unless she plans to give it to someone else … but with what we now know … I doubt she’d trust anyone else with it.”

  “So, now, the leader of the Thieves Guild will become practically invincible,” Keira whispered.

  Brenden shrugged.

  Keira removed the necklace from around her neck. She handed it to Brenden who took it carefully to put in his sash. Keira wavered, then dropped to the ground. Brenden knelt on the ground and helped her to the side of the alley where she put her back against the wall.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m suddenly very exhausted.”

  Brenden leaned away from her, his mouth agape.

  “What is it?”

  “Look at your hand.”

  They both watched as a red mark appeared on her hand where she’d tried to get Brenden to cut her. It didn’t bleed, but it did form a light scar.

  “What does it mean?” Keira asked.

  “The pendant doesn’t protect you completely from spells or physical attacks. It only delays it, and spread the fatigue and energy out of you a little at a time instead of all at once—at least—I think that’s how it’s working.”

  “All magic has a cost,” she whispered.

  “Here, let me take you home to rest.”

  Brenden held out a hand, and helped her to her feet. She clung to his arm to keep from falling.