The City of Thieves

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  “You ought to know. You’ve been working for him from the start.”

  “I didn’t know he planned to sacrifice the king to awaken Caorthannach. I thought he was only after vengeance, as am I.”

  “Will you show us the way?” Morwen asked. “We must find him first.”

  “I have no love for Lucien. The church’s monster hunters have caused the deaths of countless goblins. But the return of the Fomorians would mean death and despair for all races—goblins included. The others are too far gone in their hatred of mankind to see it.”

  “So you’ll help us?”

  Teelah paused for a moment, and the roar of the flames broke the silence. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll lead you to him, but then my debt to you is settled. If you want more than that, you’ll have to pay me for it.”

  Berengar felt a begrudging sense of respect for her. Unlike Morwen, she was not bound by some magical pact to honor her commitment. Goblins were not generally considered truthful creatures, and he had known plenty to go back on their word.

  “Look what I found!” Godfrey appeared, rolling a cask of ale. When he noticed the dark mood that had settled over the whole, his expression faltered, but only for a moment. “Anyone care to join me?”

  Berengar, still so full he could hardly move, nevertheless nodded in assent. Godfrey handed him a tankard, and Faolán left Morwen and settled beside him. He scratched her behind the ears, and his eyelids grew heavy.

  He woke again sometime later in the night. Winds howled outside the fort. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the tense atmosphere or the uncomfortable stone floor, but the others were still awake. Berengar rubbed his eye and glanced around the room. Godfrey stooped to feed the dying fire. Teelah lingered in a corner some distance from the others while Morwen labored on her new staff at a table. When she grimaced in discomfort from the pain caused by her burned hand, Teelah approached to take the seat across from her, and Berengar reached for his blade in case she was up to something.

  Instead, Teelah reached into her belt and offered Morwen a vial containing a salve. “Rub this on the burn. Wrap your hand and check the bandages in two days’ time.”

  Morwen accepted the gift without hesitation. “Thank you.”

  Teelah shrugged. “My mother was a healer. She always expected I would follow in her footsteps. I wonder sometimes what she would think if she saw my face on bounties posted across the kingdom.”

  Faolán whined, and Berengar noticed her staring at Azura, who produced a similar noise. Were the two actually talking to one another?

  Azura seemed to respond to his thoughts. “She’s quite remarkable. Much older and more intelligent than an ordinary hound. You must have done something very special to have earned her loyalty.”

  “We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “I’m sure you have. No animal sees the other side and returns unchanged.”

  Morwen, who had finished bandaging her hand, shot him a curious glance. “What did she mean by that?” When Berengar didn’t answer, she turned her focus back to Azura. “Might I ask a question? You mentioned before that you lost your wand for involving yourself in human affairs. Why help us?”

  The question put Azura in a somber mood. The mirth Berengar had come to expect from her seemed diminished, hinting that she carried deeper emotions beneath the surface. “I was always fascinated by humans. Many fairies are. There are those who delight in bringing misfortune to your kind, but most are simply after amusement. Our lives are much longer than yours, and we bore easily.

  “When I was a girl, I was alone. I had no one. More than anything, I wished for a friend. And so I left the Otherworld and came to your realm in search of one. There was a mortal who lived in a castle. Like me, she longed for adventure. Her name was Anya.”

  Berengar raised an eyebrow. “King Áed’s daughter? Áed reigned years ago—before the Shadow Wars.”

  Morwen glanced at him sidewise. “I told you. Fairies age more slowly than we do.”

  “I took the princess from her home.” Azura’s eyes fixed on Morwen’s amulet. “That amulet you carry—do you know where it comes from?”

  Morwen nodded. “It was a present from my father. It was enchanted by Thane Ramsay himself.”

  “It was a kingly gift, for that is no mere relic. In those days, magic was not hated as it is now. Magicians, mages, and druids protected the land. But the greatest of these was King Áed’s thane, the sorcerer Ramsay of Connacht—a hero whose legend stands beside Padraig himself. Time and again, Áed and his thane delivered Fál from evil and kept the peace between the five kingdoms.

  “Anya was Ramsay’s adopted sister. When she was taken, he came after her.” Azura smiled once more, but it was a sad smile. “He was just as great as the stories say he was. But greater still was the size of his heart.”

  Morwen studied her intently. “Valmont said you gave your heart to a mortal.”

  “He spoke truly. I loved Ramsay—love him still.”

  “All know of the doom of Áed.” Berengar had heard some of the story from Nora herself, there when Áed’s castle fell.

  “Aye. When Áed perished, his family died with him. Your High Queen is the last of his line. I sought Anya and Ramsay in the chaos that followed but could not find them. Most believe they perished at Áed’s side in the final battle.

  “Since that time, I have done what I can to help mankind, all while searching for answers. No matter how lonely it gets, no matter the cost—I still believe that one day I will find him, and he me.”

  Silence hung in the air, and Berengar and Morwen exchanged glances. Thane Ramsay was a storied hero, it was true, but he had passed into legend many years ago. He was gone, along with Anya, Áed, and the others. Áed’s fall brought about a time of chaos between the kingdoms from which the Lord of Shadows emerged to begin his conquest of Fál, until Nora took up her uncle’s crown and drove him from the land. Still, while Berengar knew Ramsay was dead, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter Azura’s belief to the contrary. Cynic though he was, there was something pure about her unabashed faith—something true. Even Teelah seemed touched by the story, though she said nothing on the subject.

  “We have a dangerous road ahead. You all should try to get some sleep. I will keep watch.” Azura began to sing—a lullaby that slowly clouded Berengar’s thoughts.

  Morwen stifled a yawn. “What about you?”

  “We fairies require very little sleep. The magic that runs through our veins gives us energy. Do not worry about me. Rest and dream of happy things.” With that, she resumed her song.

  Berengar was too tired to do otherwise. Before he again succumbed to his fatigue, he leaned over and whispered to Morwen. “About what you said before—you’re not my pet magician, you know.” He heard only a snore in response. Morwen was already asleep. He sighed and closed his eyes.

  When they woke in the morning, Azura had finished Morwen’s staff.

  Chapter Twelve

  They set out from Cobthach’s Hold at first light. Berengar didn’t want to take the chance Valmont’s hunters might find their trail—not when they were already headed further into danger. They made sure to pack enough rations for the journey. The scouts certainly wouldn’t be needing them, and there was no point in letting good food go to waste.

  The company traveled north to avoid Tulach Mhór and the Giant’s Foot. Berengar kept ahead of the others while Faolán trailed at a distance to keep watch. Morwen and Azura rode alongside each other, and Godfrey, bringing up the rear, attempted to engage Teelah in conversation only to find himself repeatedly rebuffed. True to form, the good-natured friar persisted. Eventually, Teelah relented and answered him in short, one-word responses, though her demeanor remained as solemn as ever. A magician, fairy, goblin, and friar certainly made for strange traveling companions, even in the company of the Bloody Red Bear.

  Morwen spent the first hours in awe of Azura’s handiwork. Charms and symbols etched into the staff’s wooden surface now r
an its length. “I love it. How on earth did you manage all this overnight?”

  Azura regarded her with obvious amusement. “All fairies speak the language of magic with ease. We do not require years of study or heaps of books to understand it.”

  Morwen ran a hand along the staff. “These defensive charms will come in handy. It’s perfect.” She delved into her satchel and placed her lightstone and a blue runestone into two slots near the staff’s head.

  Azura laughed. “Now maybe you’ll avoid draining or burning yourself from attempting to wield those runes with your hands.”

  Morwen flushed, embarrassed, and Berengar suppressed a smile. As she was so fond of teasing him, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

  “Beware of fairy gifts,” Teelah called from behind. “Especially when they come with strings attached.”

  Azura looked over her shoulder and bared her teeth. “No one asked you, goblin. What have your kind ever given humans but war and strife?”

  Teelah snorted derisively. “In times past, there were great goblin kingdoms—kingdoms that lived in peace with humans, even if they have forgotten it. It isn’t our fault that they see our claws and teeth and judge us monsters—or that they see your great beauty and forget your many sleights against them in hopes of a free wish.”

  “And I suppose your raids on the countryside are the acts of a friend?”

  Teelah pointed at Berengar. “Men like him burn down our homes, kill our families, and try to exterminate our entire race. Can you blame us for defending ourselves?”

  “Leave me out of your squabbles.” Berengar came of age slaying goblins to the north. He refused to apologize for doing what was necessary to protect his home. In truth, he had learned a long time ago that goblins—like people—were capable of both good and evil, but he didn’t feel the need to justify himself to anyone—least of all someone who had attempted to kill him on more than one occasion.

  Teelah fixed her withering gaze on him. “See? He doesn’t even try to deny the blood on his hands. He’s as much of a butcher as any of my kin.”

  “You have the wrong of him,” Godfrey volunteered on his behalf. “When I first met him in Alúine, Warden Berengar put himself in grave peril to save the last hobgoblins from Laird Margolin’s forces. He even let them keep the thunder rune they had stolen from him so they could start a new life in Munster.”

  “That’s enough, Godfrey.” The last thing he wanted was Godfrey spinning him into some sort of hero. If the friar kept it up, it wouldn’t be long before Morwen joined in.

  “That’s right,” Morwen added, prompting a groan from Berengar. “It was to avenge their deaths and recover the stone that he returned to Leinster in the first place.”

  Berengar shot them both a warning look. “I said enough.” Teelah was right. There was a reason the goblins called him Berengar Goblin-Bane. It was unlikely any man alive had slaughtered more goblins. He was no friend to them, and he was certainly no hero.

  For her part, Teelah appeared unconvinced, though she chose not to press the matter further. Berengar didn’t blame her. After a lifetime spent hearing stories about the atrocities he had committed, she had good reason to doubt him. In that respect, she wasn’t that different from most others.

  He went farther ahead to avoid being drawn into conversation. To his surprise, he felt remarkably well-rested. He couldn’t remember sleeping so well in a long time. Even his soreness was notably improved from the previous day. He wondered if the change had anything to do with Azura’s lullaby. He again caught himself humming the tune but could no longer recall the words.

  When they arrived at the Elderwood before midday, Teelah instructed them to keep close together. “Move carefully. Cathán will have spies looking for us in hopes we will lead them to your king. He has many animals and trees under his command.”

  “I have friends in the forest too.” Azura called to a sparrow, which landed on her outstretched hand. After a brief exchange, the bird flew to a branch and hopped to another. “She will show us a safe route.”

  Berengar nodded to Teelah. “I believe you know the way.”

  She started down the path without reply. They continued for most of the day. According to Teelah, it would take at least another day to reach the barrows where Valmont had hidden Lucien. The Elderwood’s size, which spanned the borders of multiple kingdoms, made it the perfect place for the dark fairy to conceal Lucien from prying eyes. The forest had a well-earned reputation as a place of magic and dangerous creatures, and many believed it was cursed. Even the monster hunters might think twice before following them inside.

  The sparrow proved a valuable ally. They encountered no enemies on the first leg of their journey, though Berengar suspected the true danger lay ahead. Late in the day, they passed a farm tucked away in an isolated clearing. Smoke rose from the farmhouse’s chimney, and a modest barn sat nestled under the trees. Well-fed chickens wandered freely while pigs roamed about their pens.

  A middle-aged woman with five small children was finishing her chores outside the farmhouse. Azura and Teelah remained out of sight while Berengar and the others made their way to the farmhouse. One of the woman’s children pulled at her sleeve to get her attention at their approach.

  “Welcome. It’s not often we get travelers here. I am Nairne, and these are my young ones.” Her gaze fell on Berengar’s sword. “What brings you this way?”

  Berengar ignored the children, who hid behind their mother at the sight of his scars. “Just passing through.”

  “We are simple folk,” Godfrey volunteered. “We mean you no harm.”

  The friar’s crucifix seemed to set her at ease. “You are welcome to shelter here for the night, provided you leave your weapons outside.”

  Berengar did as she requested. “Faolán, stay.” The wolfhound stared hungrily at passing chickens but obediently remained where she was.

  Berengar ducked under the farmhouse’s doorway and filed in behind Morwen, who winked at each of Nairne’s children in turn. Were they in another kingdom, she might have entertained them with magic, but she kept her abilities to herself.

  It wasn’t long before they were all packed around the hearth, sharing mutton stew prepared over an open fire. Berengar was content to let Godfrey do most of the talking while he ate in peace. Nairne was curious about their travels; the frontier received little news about current affairs. The friar explained the purpose for their journey only in the vaguest of terms as the children stole glances at his wooden hand.

  Their host was a widow. Her husband and their eldest daughter had passed on from plague the previous year. She had managed well enough in her husband’s absence, but times were hard, and she was not sure there were stores enough to last through the coming winter.

  “You should be careful if you’re planning to venture deeper into the forest. Lots of strange happenings in these parts, especially of late. Ghost sightings and goblin raids—that sort of thing. The entire community of Ferbane vanished overnight.”

  Berengar already knew the area was dangerous, but her words bode ill all the same. He wondered what would become of Nairne and her children after their departure. If the monsters didn’t get them, the family faced cold and starvation when winter arrived.

  In the morning, the company left the farm, and Azura and Teelah joined them at the forest’s edge. One look was all it took to know the two hadn’t yet put aside their differences. There were fewer signs of human influence the farther west they traveled. It was a sign that however civilized the world had become, there were still dangerous, untamed places better left alone. The Elderwood shifted and changed as they continued on their way. Towering trees drowned out the sunlight and cast fallen leaves over the earth. More than once, Berengar had the feeling of being watched.

  Eventually they came to Ferbane. The abandoned settlement was in shambles.

  Berengar slowed his pace and inspected the scene. “Monsters were here. A lot of them, from the look of it.
” It appeared the settlement’s defenders had been overrun.

  Morwen eyed a decomposing corpse near the well. “What do you think became of the others?”

  “Who can say?” He didn’t imagine it was a pleasant fate. Monsters had ravenous appetites.

  Godfrey, no stranger to death, looked uneasy. “We should keep going.”

  Berengar turned to Teelah, who surveyed the remnants of Ferbane with an indiscernible expression. “Lead the way.”

  She returned to the trail without a word and led them deeper into the forest. They followed her along a winding path into a marsh. The pale light took on a greenish hue matching the water’s murky color. Strange-looking fungi grew on deformed, sickly-looking trees whose bare roots ran deep underground.

  Berengar swatted a mosquito and kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Menacing crows stared down at the travelers passing underneath from twisted, appendage-like branches. “The horses are spooked.” He reined in his horse to prevent the stallion from stepping off the path and peered into the marsh, where human skulls were visible among moss-covered stones. Flies swarmed around decaying animal corpses.

  Godfrey stared at an enormous spider’s web between two trees, and his grip tightened around the cross hanging from his neck. “I don’t like the look of this place.”

  Teelah pressed a finger to her lips. “Quiet. We’re close now.”

  Fog spread from the banks of the marsh, and the path soon disappeared underneath. Tiny winged creatures, glowing like candles, flitted through the air. When Morwen reached toward one, it quickly retreated, followed by the others.

  “What are they?” Godfrey asked. “More fairies?”

  “Pixies,” Azura corrected. “They were trying to warn us away. The walls between your world and the fairy realm are thin here. This is the place.”

  Large grassy mounds loomed ahead, and the companions dismounted and advanced with weapons drawn. Thorns and briars covered the soft earth. Fog clung to scattered pillars and overturned stones as if moving with a life of its own. Many stones bore strange markings reminiscent of the symbols on Morwen’s runestones. A soft, rasping sound prompted a growl from Faolán. They weren’t alone.