by C E Johnson
He’s intelligent and respectful, Arn began, and he’s well aware of your patterns. Lambo didn’t rush Droth or disagree with any components of the proposal.
“Are you ready, Lambo?” Droth asked, surprised at the deep concern lacing his own voice. Lambo didn’t have heightened strength and reflexes and Droth was amazed at his bravery.
“For Arn, Uncle.” Excitement danced in Lambo’s voice. “Orel needs a playmate in the skies. Someone who can keep up with him. The prophecy will be for Arn.”
“For Arn,” Droth agreed, continually fascinated at the innate generosity within his relative. They left their tree-covered camp and carefully approached the cave system. The land changed once they left the cover of the forest transitioning to sand and boulders near the cave entrance. The Dobermans padded silently around Droth guarding their master with unquestioned obedience. As a gust of wind whipped over the land, small dirt-devils formed around their position. Droth gestured to the cover offered by several large, pale-colored slabs of stone. Danger, suggested his ki. He held up his hand and the group came to an immediate halt.
Use your search spell, whispered Arn.
Droth murmured the words for his spell, knowing even Lambo, who was a lower-level silver magician, would be able to see his searching web quest around their position. Lambo did not have formal magical training. He was only able to complete a few spells—primarily psionic and healing incantations that Droth had taught him. However, even his limited training had come in useful in certain circumstances.
Anything? Arn asked.
Droth studied his network of black webs searching the entrance region. There’s a pit, Droth informed Arn of a booby trap just beyond his position. Droth silently made signals to Lambo, pointing out spells and concealed dangers. Lambo nodded and Droth was certain his nephew was now able to see the hidden areas. They proceeded cautiously forward and Droth gingerly swept aside a cluster of vines to reveal a dusky limestone face, the shrouded entrance. There were no mage-locks on the stone and Droth sighed in relief. Testing the rock, he used his heightened strength to push on an area of weakness until a crevice opened. Continuing to apply pressure to the fissure, Droth soon revealed a small tunnel that allowed them access to a massive subterranean area. They cautiously advanced into the great cavern that was lit by a series of skylights opening above ground.
“Incredible,” Lambo murmured. The massive hollow was astonishingly diverse with stalactites pointing down from the ceiling, assorted stone shelves dotting the walls, and scattered dark cave pools appearing still and ominous. There were even rocks in the shapes of totem poles and flowstones. Droth signaled Lambo to silence while checking over both of their suits of light brown water-hardened leather armor that were about to be tested. The outfits were the same style as that worn by the soldiers in the city, and Droth was hoping to blend in once past the initial cluster of guards. Waiting for their eyes to fully acclimate, they crouched behind a gray promontory of stone. Droth raised four fingers, pointing in the distance, waiting until Lambo acknowledged he could see the targets. While guarding a distant dark passageway, four men were playing a game of dice on the west side of the cavern.
Lambo quietly pulled his crossbow off his back and placed one bolt in his bow while organizing three more bolts on a boulder in front of him. He then made a signal to Orel, who flew into the cavern, taking up a position on a rocky outcropping above the dice playing group.
Droth gave a short nod before reviewing the situation with Arn. Lambo will be able to eliminate this group of four. He allowed his bondsmate into his mind to view the scene.
Are there any more guards? Arn questioned. Show me the other side of the cavern. It’s dark on the other side. I wish I was there to scout for you. Droth could hear the concern in his eagle’s words. Droth looked to the other side of the rock, and sure enough, there was a second group of ten thieves talking in hushed voices on the far southern aspect of the cavern, guarding a second passageway. They were starting a fire. You can take them, Arn spoke encouragingly.
Droth made a gesture to let Lambo know he would take care of this second group. Taking a deep breath, he stood and boldly walked toward the larger group of ten.
“Who are you?” The captain of the squad stood abruptly once Droth commanded his attention. He spoke in a deep menacing tone. He had a pointed black beard, a thick mustache and a short patch of dark hair on the top of his head. Droth didn’t answer. He brazenly continued his approach, attempting to appear confident and at ease. “What’s the password, you idiot,” the captain’s voice rose in anger and he drew his longsword halfway from its brown leather scabbard. The steel shimmered deadly in the fire-light.
Droth continued forward, attempting to appear oblivious to the growing tumult around him. He began to whistle a tune. The guards were grumbling to each other in low voices.
“Are you deaf? I will not ask again!” The captain fully exposed his sword and two stocky soldiers stood to flank their red-faced leader, also drawing their weapons. They all appeared eager for a fight.
Droth stopped whistling. “I’m here to recover a stolen object.” He was now very close to the warriors.
The captain snorted in contempt while narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips into a hard sneer. “We have many stolen items here, but none are for you.” The captain brandished his weapon. “If you don’t reside in the caves, turn and depart before I decide to give you the last gift you’ll ever need … the gift of steel.” A third warrior rose to stand at his side. The man was holding a battle-axe that gleamed in the flickering light.
“I would like to decline your gift of steel, and I would like to grant you my own gift.” Droth abruptly stopped and raised his hand. This was all the signal his Dobermans required. They soared into action. “I would like to give you a release from the sword and all that binds you to the soil of Acacia.” Three black blurs of heightened sinewy musculature darted forward as deadly, dark shadows.
Simultaneously, Lambo unleashed a bolt at the apparent leader of the smaller group of four dice-playing men. A loud thwack rang out as his metal quarrel parted armor and skin, and a muffled scream arose. Lambo’s first victim turned into brown smoke at the periphery of Droth’s vision. Lambo should now be reaching for his second bolt, Droth hoped.
“By the dragons!” the captain spat while dodging Xeno. He charged Droth, anger clouding his countenance, side by side with his axe-toting comrade. Droth drew two short swords from their scabbards. In a smooth fluid motion, he leapt forward to meet their attack. Thrusting the sharpened weapons into the chests of the two with heightened quickness, Droth nearly gagged as they both burst into a thick sooty vapor that smelled like rotten eggs. The remaining guards were bellowing in confusion, scrambling to regroup.
You must act quickly before they can escape to signal any others, Arn warned. The Dobermans acted like they heard the great Acacean eagle. They were death and destruction, darting and snapping on each swift pass. They plunged time and again, open jaws connecting with the throats of guards they selected, and a steady stream of brown, rank mist rose to hang in the cavern like banners of death.
How are Lambo and Orel doing? Arn asked. Droth glanced toward his nephew to let Arn see the area through his eyes. Lambo had dispatched two of the guards and a third bolt was glinting through the air toward its target. Good. Continue your attack, Arn advised.
Attacking in tandem with his dogs, Droth engaged in a series of deadly maneuvers. Rapid sword strokes were augmented by heightened strength and reflexes. His movements became intertwined with canine teeth, and together they formed a deadly reaping machine that methodically began to mow down the remaining men. Their hopelessly outclassed victims had difficulty seeing their moves, much less defending against the onslaught. As the final warrior turned to run from the cavern, Orel ended his circling at the apex of the cavern and banked along the far wall of the cave to descend and embed his talons into the fleeing guard’s exposed neck. The warrior paused, screaming in pain, arm
s batting at the eagle while Lambo sent off his fourth crossbow bolt. The steel found its target, lodging into the man’s back with another sickening thump. Orel was left holding death-smoke, and the bird let out a shrill scream of success.
Droth clapped Lambo on the back as he spoke to his nephew, “They had more soldiers here than I would have thought for a rarely used entrance.” Lambo nodded. They didn’t pause long to savor their victory, instead they rapidly organized the area, hiding the equipment of the guards and eliminating any sign of a struggle.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lambo asked.
“You know the plan.” Droth wished he could take Lambo with him, but he wanted to keep him safe. “Keep the passage open for me and protect me when I exit … I imagine there will be many soldiers hot on my heels.” Droth gave Lambo a fist bump. “If I’m not back in the next few hours, run back to the island and don’t look back.”
“Return soon.” There was a resigned expression on Lambo’s face. He bit his lip while he began pulling out a series of bolts and spreading them in an orderly fashion before him on his rock.
Droth started down a dark passageway, and Lambo faded away into the shadows behind him. Right, then left down this corridor. Droth had the necessary passages of Thieves City memorized after so many arduous hours of studying the information given to him by his patron. I’d like to explore several of these treasure rooms I’m passing.
You need to keep moving, Arn chastised him. Be wary. Droth dashed through the subterranean area. The caverns were truly a work of art. The system was based on a natural network of existing caves, but the thieves had hired dwarfs to finish off the surface stone. There were figures and scenes carved into the walls along with inscriptions and incredible artistry worked into the rocks detailing exploits of great thieves in the past and of masterful thefts. Droth felt like he was in a museum.
Don’t study the depictions. Arn sounded angry. Don’t read the words. You can’t delay even a second. Droth heeded Arn’s advice and moved more rapidly. His sleek black dogs alternated positions, glancing at him occasionally to assure themselves that their pack was intact. Droth managed to rub the back of Xeno who was closest to him even while on the run.
How close are you? Arn was urging Droth to greater speeds.
I’m almost to Raiken’s private rooms. Droth was amazed that he hadn’t encountered any soldiers or thieves. The tunnels rose and fell like the swells of gentle waves at sea with the shallower passages lit by massive skylights similar to the entryway to the cave system. The floors of the tunnels were all perfectly sloped and angled, allowing complex drainage systems to filter any rain water which might fall into the ground, keeping the tunnels dry. Droth passed over several small bridges or overpasses which forded underground streams as he jogged along. The branching connections were skillfully designed, combining technical utility with artwork. Although he had memorized the many paths, he only knew their appearance relative to a map—actually seeing the stone avenues that he had studied for so many hours was an unusually fulfilling experience. Droth carefully controlled his heightened pace making sure he was preserving enough energy for the task ahead while listening to the steady rhythm of his boots dancing on the stone and the click and clack of his Doberman’s claws lightly scraping on the hard surface. His slow and painful movements on Earth were now but a distant memory. He arrived at the door to his desired room, the dwelling of Master-thief Raiken, and cursed quietly.
What’s wrong? Arn questioned.
The entry is mage-locked. This will take some energy to overcome. Droth brought forth his magus, gasping at the strength of the lock that drained a large portion of his stamina. The opening of a mage-locked door could alert the magician who cast the spell. I wonder if Raiken’s inside.
If so, he’s now taking up a defensive position, Arn warned, or he may be running toward you from somewhere in that underground hive.
Droth drew one of his short swords and signaled to his dogs to enter first. He followed them into the foyer. The Dobermans fanned out, searching through the rooms for any occupants. There were mage-lights in this area, feeding from his energy to bring forth light, but only using a tiny fraction of his strength.
Use your search spell again, Arn urged.
Droth cast a spell, sending out his searching web. He only relaxed somewhat when he realized both from his spell and from his canine scouts that he was alone. Shutting and bolting the main door behind him, he began to search for the treasure room opening. The information from the portfolio submitted by his employer suggested the vault was off one of the storage rooms, but Droth would have to use more spells to locate the door and he was already beginning to tire. Signaling Xander to guard the entry door, he directed Xanthus and Xeno to remain at his side as he began to search through the rooms. He hoped the Dobermans’ sense of detail would help identify clues that he otherwise might miss. Xeno began to whine by a bookcase in a small library, and Droth darted to the location to find a door behind the bookcase. It’s also mage-locked.
You must open it. There was growing anxiety in Arn’s words. There’s no other choice.
Using his heightened strength, Droth pulled the cabinet aside. Time was a valuable commodity. He opened the spell-locked portal, but there was another drain on his energy that made his heart begin to race in his chest. Droth shook off the pain and stumbled through the small door to enter a short tunnel which opened into a larger cavern. Raiken’s treasure room.
You’ve lost too much magus, Arn sounded beyond worried. You’ll never make it out of there if you don’t hurry.
Droth tried his best to ignore Arn’s dire warnings, but he knew his bondsmate was right. Focusing on the work at hand, he pushed up the light intensity in the room to help with his search, and he felt momentarily dazed in the sudden flare from a multitude of mage-lanterns around the corners of the room. The rays were based off the hue of his magus, his black aura; however, his dark color was mixed with white, creating a milky color, bathing the room in gray luminescence. The room was incredible—painting and sculptures were skillfully placed around the edges and Droth felt as if he had entered an art exhibition. Raiken’s been hard at work. There were luxurious areas where Raiken could sit and work in the center of the many masterpieces.
He must steal items just to form his desired interior design for his personal collection, Arn whispered, seeing the room through Droth’s eyes.
Droth began to scan the room for the magestone collection. Luckily the investigation wasn’t difficult at all, and he was quickly drawn to a section of the storehouse where their powerful auras flared into view. The desired magestones were immensely powerful, and the sextet sat in an elevated position on a small dais. Emitting a tangled and tumbled mesh of hues, their colors were like the beautiful scales of a multicolored dragon, deep and rich. They were sitting in a hexagonal pattern adjacent to a gray silk bag with a bluestone in the shape of a shield, a redstone in the shape of a sword, a greenstone in the shape of a heart, a blackstone in the shape of a skull, a silverstone in the shape of an eye, and a goldstone in the shape of a staff. Droth hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the greenstone treasure first.
Be careful, Arn was on edge. They both wondered if contact with his skin would set off an alarm. Just touching the greenstone, though, instantly restored a small portion of his depleted strength. Droth gathered all the stones in his hand observing the fascinating blend of colors with small auras swirling together in a variety of patterns, each one momentarily overriding the others before rapidly changing. The power of the magic associated with the stones took his breath away. Droth glanced momentarily at the other gems, gold, and coins stacked in the room along with weapons, armor, and books. Ignore the other prizes, Arn warned. Their weight might slow your exit.
Droth heeded his bondsmate’s advice and slipped out of the treasure vault. Xander emitted a low growl and Droth froze in place. He pulled out both of his swords and returned to the foyer to stand in an at
tack position. The hair was raising on the necks of his Dobermans. A group of members of the Thieves Guild were walking by in the hallway outside his position discussing a century old masterful heist in Machimum. After they had passed, Droth slipped out the door with his dogs, his heart was hammering.
Focus, Arn implored.
I’m getting too old for this, he muttered back, feeling as if the walls were closing in around him. He staggered for a step in the hallway. Perspiration began to bead on his skin. He put his arm out to steady himself, feeling some comfort by the solid cool walls. He attempted to slow his breathing, but over his thundering heart he heard a new set of approaching soldiers, and he felt a building panic.
Don’t let stress overpower your senses, Arn urged. You just need to get out of that dungeon. Instantly, his anxious mind was dominated by a new scene: a picture of trees and green grass flooded into his brain and his fear began to dissipate. You will be with me soon, Arn whispered in a soothing tone. Droth soaked up the images his bondsmate was projecting from his position outside.
Thank you, my link. With his mind working rationally again, Droth started to run. His Dobermans surrounded him, loping toward the exit. He could picture himself moving on a map in his mind, closer and closer to the entry of the cavern. With each passing minute, he set a goal of slightly increasing his speed, imagining himself floating on the wind, whirling faster and faster in a mad tornado-like sprint. He turned the final corner from the exit, and barreled into a startled group of men in leather armor--guards headed to a shift change.
Fight, Arn roared. Droth’s speed propelled him into the back of the squad of fifteen men, and he felt like a bowling bowl hitting into a set of pins. He lowered a shoulder and went through the center of the company amidst a steady stream of curses. Bodies flew through the air in a tangled mass of confusion. Droth flew head-long through the center of the mass of warriors, tripping over the last man’s feet to skip to a stop on the ground. Lifting himself up, Droth turned to look at the disorganized mass of angry soldiers scrambling in an attempt to draw their scattered weapons.
