01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  “What happened?” Jack asked, catching the too-easy tinge to Orathan's voice. “Or did someone else complete it?”

  Orathan sneered. “That's none of your concern. You’re to meet Beauty in Nightfall Gorge, where you'll meet your contact for your assignment. Don't be late again, or I'll have you—”

  “Whipped?” Jack interrupted, and laughed. “We're not children.”

  Orathan's expression clouded with fury. “You're to meet a retired thief named Nemeth, who will give you your assignment.”

  Beauty had said Nemeth frequently had contracts for the guild, but the timing suggested she had pressed the assignment in Jack's direction. A smile spread on his face and he accepted the new assignment with a nod.

  “As you order,” he said.

  He turned and exited the tavern, wincing as the sun pierced his eyes. All thoughts of Nemeth faded and he growled in pain. To his surprise Gordon and Ursana matched his reaction, right down to the curse.

  When he recovered Jack turned northeast and cast them a curious look. “Headache?”

  They nodded, and Ursana said. “I didn't sleep well, kept having strange dreams.”

  Gordon grunted in agreement. “Same for me. Must have been the ale.”

  A nagging suspicion tugged at Jack's mind, causing him to growl. “Any chance they were of killer deer?”

  Gordon laughed at that. “Deer? Sounds like a child's nightmare.”

  He looked to Ursana for agreement but she was not laughing. She gazed into the distance, her forehead knit in curiosity.

  “Did they have teeth like a wolf?”

  “Actually they did,” Jack said, and the trio came to a halt.

  “You're thinking you had the same nightmare?” Gordon asked, incredulous.

  “Memory magic,” Ursana said, her expression clouding with anger.

  The image of a purple spike sinking into his forehead flashed across Jack's mind, causing him to rub the spot where it had pierced his skull.

  “How do you know?” Jack asked.

  Ursana avoided the men’s gaze. “It's not the first time I’ve seen it used,” she said. “My father would cast it on my mother so she would forget his abuses.”

  Gordon raised a hand to forestall their conversation. “Wait, if what you say is true, why don't I remember anything?”

  Ursana's gaze flicked to him. “I've had some practice shielding my mind,” she said. “And I certainly would have tried if someone intended to make me forget. I don't know about him.” She gestured to Jack.

  He smirked, thinking of his panther side. A cat's mind would have reacted very differently from a mental intrusion, and would have prevented the memory magic from performing its full charm.

  “I have my own protections,” he said.

  A shadow of movement drew his eye to a figure lingering in an alley nearby. The person withdrew before Jack could identify him, but it was enough to make him suspicious. Stepping back into the crowd, he murmured to the others.

  “Let's continue this when there aren't so many ears about.”

  They worked their way out of the city through the western gates, only pausing to rent a trio of steeds. Once they were mounted, Jack took the northern route toward Nightfall Gorge.

  They climbed a hill outside of Terros and left the city behind. Within an hour the traffic on the roadway had disappeared. When the only sound was the clomping of their horses’ hooves, Jack spoke.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Ursana began with images of a boat, and a lighthouse. She too remembered the killer deer, with bits of combat and blood. As she detailed the fragments she knew, Jack's memory stirred and he managed to retrieve other moments. As the hours passed they pieced together the events of the previous day.

  At first Gordon's expression marked his disbelief, but as the conversation went on his countenance changed to one of anger. Ultimately he managed to dredge up a pair of memories that added to the narrative. By noon they had gleaned all they could from their fragmented memories.

  Jack pulled a strip of dried meat from his pack and gnawed on it, his irritation warring with his confusion. The reason behind the assassins’ purpose was clear, and even understandable. They didn't want the knowledge of their secret guildhall to be wandering around in the heads of three untested thieves.

  Jack had suffered a number of indignities and had the scars to prove it, but the audacity of the Guildmaster taking his memory left him furious. After several minutes he realized it was the sense of vulnerability that bothered him the most, prompting him to turn to Ursana.

  “How did you shield your mind?”

  “It's not easy.”

  “I don't care,” Jack replied. “I'm not about to let that happen again.”

  Gordon had been mostly quiet throughout their conversation, but now spoke with a mark of anger in his own voice.

  “I'd like to learn as well.”

  Ursana's bright eyes flicked between them, and then she relented. “You have to close your mind like a door, cutting off your senses until your mind is like a sphere of steel in your skull. You can't stop the magic from reaching into your head, but if the magic can't find your mind it's useless.”

  “Sounds ridiculous,” Jack said.

  Ursana shrugged and faced forward. “It's your mind to lose.”

  Jack sighed and attempted her suggestion but it proved more difficult than he'd thought. After depending on his senses for so long, he found it impossible to cut them off. After an hour of effort he gave up with a sigh. A glance revealed Gordon’s face scrunched up with the effort, while Ursana seemed lost in thought. Recognizing the solitary moment, he turned his attention forward.

  Nemeth.

  Jack had thought he would have a long wait before confronting one of his mother’s killers. Instead, Beauty had opened a path, and now Jack was riding to meet him. His hands tightened on the pommel until the leather creaked.

  The road wound its way through the trees until they reached a wide fork. Taking the eastern road, they spent the night adjacent to a stream before continuing on their way. The events in Terros seemed to have cracked the lingering reserve between Ursana and Gordon, and they spent the time swapping stories.

  When they sought to question him, Jack flashed a disarming smile and laughed about a youth spent stealing in the streets of Keese. It was true enough and the others didn't question it. After three days of travel, the road began to climb into the mountains. The air grew cold and the oaks gave way to the hardier pine. After another day they climbed through a pass and Nightfall Gorge came into view.

  Plunging out of the northern peaks, a great waterfall cascaded onto a plateau. Over time the rush of water had hollowed out a gaping canyon through a shelf of rock. The small plateau stretched for a mile before the ground dropped to join the valley floor, where the now slow river wound its way southwest. Fertile and green, the valley contained an abundance of farms, mills, and herds of cattle. Overlooking them all, the city of Nightfall Gorge sat atop the shelf.

  A wall bound the city, but from their vantage point Jack could see over it. Buildings were packed wall to wall, with many roofs extending into neighboring structures. Evidently seeking additional space, the residents of the city had pushed downward.

  The two sides of the canyon contained natural caves, allowing homes and businesses to be constructed within the canyon walls. Wide steps were carved into the stone, connecting to bridges that spanned the two sides of the city.

  Jack's eyes lifted to the castle, which lay embedded in the cliff overlooking the plateau. The waterfall fell through the center of the castle on its way into the canyon. Split in two, the castle contained eastern and western courtyards. Windows and balconies dotted the cliff on either side of the waterfall.

  The towers that bordered the canyon anchored a massive arch that crossed the gorge. Great supports extending from the towers reinforced an enormous platform. Situated above the canyon and backed by the plunging falls, the platform seemed to float hig
h above the city.

  Bright lights dotted the platform's surface and surrounded a statue at its center. Large enough to entertain hundreds, the platform granted guests a chance to see into the depths of the canyon and offered an unparalleled view of the city.

  “Who built the castle?” Ursana asked, gesturing to the fortress. “I've never seen its like.”

  Jack had only been to the city once and shook his head to indicate he did not know. Gordon gestured to the far end of the valley.

  “The city and castle were built using the revenue from a series of gold mines that were discovered in the eastern range. It was enough for the Lord to commission dwarves to build the castle, but the vein ran dry soon after, so the city does not reflect the same quality of craftsmanship.”

  Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust as he pictured the duke sitting inside his fortress. He’d always hated the piety of nobles, and he got the impression the duke had more than his fair share of it. The man obviously liked to display his wealth at every possible opportunity.

  Jack hoped he'd get the chance to humble him.

  Chapter 19: Nightfall Gorge

  They descended into the valley and followed the road to the village at the base of the plateau. They located a stable and tethered their horses. The haphazard village had evidently been built out of necessity when the city had run out of space, and contained an odd assortment of inns, shops, and other places of commerce.

  Sitting adjacent to the river, the village of Shadow's Bank represented the final stop before travelers had to ascend five hundred feet to the city above. The thieves made their way through the crowded village and joined the line creeping up the road.

  Cut into the side of the plateau, the road was barely large enough for a single wagon to pass, and several times they were forced to walk next to the railing in order to pass a wagon. As they neared the top, Jack motioned for them to separate, and he slipped into a group of farmers pulling carts. The guards paid them no mind and stood by while the thieves passed through the gates. Once inside the city, the thieves reconnected and squeezed through the crowd toward their target.

  Terros, with ten times the population of Nightfall Gorge, had been built with wide streets, giving the capital an open feel. Nightfall Gorge was the opposite, with a crowd so dense that Jack felt like part of a herd. The buildings towered on either side, with some touching. Wagons didn't fit within many streets, but smaller carts were abundant.

  Shops were located on the first floor of buildings, with homes occupying the upper levels. Women stood on balconies above and washed their linens, shouting to each other over the din below. The reek of sweat and dung hung heavy in the air, fetid and warm.

  More than once Jack felt a tug on his coin purse as a pickpocket attempted to relieve him of his purse. He smiled at the attempts. While living on the streets he'd stolen a purse string enchanted by dwarves that was nearly impossible to cut.

  They passed a group of men haggling over foodstuffs and then spotted the tavern Master Orathan had directed them to, the Dancing Waters. Making their way through the doors, they found a table and ordered a meal. As they finished Beauty slid into a seat at their table.

  “When did you get here?” Gordon asked.

  “Last night,” Beauty said.

  Jack grunted and drained his mug. “It's almost like we lost a day.”

  Beauty's eyes narrowed and flicked between them. Doubt appeared and she leaned forward, her voice turning hard.

  “Be grateful you never went to the assassins’ guild,” she said. “If you haven't guessed already, they kill to keep their secrets.”

  Jack heard the warning in her voice and chose not to push the topic. “What's our next assignment?”

  Beauty rose to her feet and gestured to the door. Jack placed a few coppers on the table and followed her out. Once they were back in the street, Beauty led them to the gorge. Pressing through the packed crowd, they reached the edge of the canyon.

  Jack's eyes were drawn to the castle protruding from the cliff above. This close, he could see the underside of the great platform and the stonework of the supports. Mist from the waterfall glinted off the golden trappings of the structure. Noticing his gaze, Beauty gestured to the platform.

  “The King's Overlook,” she said, a trace of disgust in her voice. “Lord Horanian uses it for grand balls and other events. He employs light mages and dwarven fire to demonstrate his wealth at every turn. He likes to make the distinction between himself and the people of the city.”

  “Sounds like a charmer,” Gordon said.

  “Sounds like he needs a beating,” Ursana said.

  At her tone, the others looked questioningly at her, but her gaze was on the castle above. Beauty shrugged and turned onto a set of stairs leading them into the canyon. Shadows deepened as they descended, darkening the hundreds of bridges that extended to the opposite side. Cast by the bridges and the walls of the canyon, the darkness lent the canyon a gloomy look.

  Thousands of natural caves contained a myriad of homes. The windows and doors were misshapen and bent to accommodate the cave openings. Light glowed from within, spilling onto the steps and platforms.

  The roar from the waterfall increased throughout their descent while mist speckled the stones, making the moss slick beneath their feet. The walls of the canyon narrowed and the number of bridges increased, with huts and forges built on ledges and platforms.

  Although it was still late afternoon, the interior of the gorge felt like twilight. Torches and elven light orbs were bracketed throughout, their golden glows flickering and making the shadows dance.

  Beauty continued until the steps were dangerously slick and the lights were few. This deep, Jack could make out white water crashing over the rocks below. Jack looked over the decrepit railing, wondering how many had fallen to their deaths.

  Beauty came to a door ensconced in the side of the canyon. Only two homes were lower and both appeared vacant. One door leaned off its hinges, its wood rotted from the perpetual mist. Beauty produced a key and unlocked the second door. Then she swung it open and entered the darkened interior. Once they were inside and the door shut, a light blossomed on the side of the room.

  “Every building has a price,” she said, “but this low in the gorge the homes are cheap. To the Lord’s tax collectors, this is the home of an orphan who cares for pigs.”

  The tiny room contained a ratty bed, a broken desk, and faded light orb. A few crusts of bread sat on a table, so covered with mold even the rats wouldn't touch them. Beauty stepped to the light orb and traced a rune across its surface. The orb changed from dim yellow to gold, and the stone at the back of the room shifted. Sinking into the rock, it slid to the side with a grinding of gears.

  “I understood that the Thieves Guild didn't have a hall here,” Gordon said.

  “It doesn't,” Beauty replied, and strode through the secret door. “This is the headquarters of a smuggling operation built by a former guild thief.”

  “Nemeth,” Jack said. His tone caused Beauty to throw him a warning glance.

  Careful, Jack.

  Jack forced a smile. “What prompted the Guildmaster to let him out?”

  “He suffered an injury on an assignment six years ago that left him with a limp,” Beauty replied. “His past loyalty was apparently sufficient for the Guildmaster to release him from the Guild. Since then he's built a smuggling operation here, and the guild frequently uses his headquarters as a sort of outpost.”

  Jack smirked, recalling the man's injury had come from his mother. Morissa had been more of a fighter than he'd ever known. He wished she’d taught him more of her skills, but she never did want him to follow in her footsteps.

  The winding corridor ended at a sprawling cavern with a dozen side corridors. Crates and barrels were stacked in every corner, along with ropes and other equipment. The state of disarray indicated a man of the same mind and elicited a snort from Ursana.

  “How does a man like him not get caught?” s
he asked.

  “He's sharper than he looks,” Beauty warned. “And devious. Do not forget that at one time he was a class-three thief.”

  At the back of the room, a handful of men were busy loading what looked to be a dwarven ascender. One of them caught sight of the group and gestured to another. He turned and then made his way through the piles toward them.

  Tall and balding, Nemeth didn't look like much. His tunic bulged at the waist and he walked with a distinct limp. At odds with his appearance were his eyes, which exuded a calculating and brutal nature.

  The man smiled, a dirty and lascivious expression. “Beauty! Always a pleasure to see you.”

  “Nemeth,” she replied evenly. “We can skip the pleasantries. What's our assignment?”

  He limped to a chair and sank into it, his expression scolding. “I've told you before, if you don't enjoy life, what's the purpose in living?”

  “I see you enjoy it,” Jack said.

  “I always do.”

  When their eyes met Jack imagined drawing his dagger and plunging it into his chest. He imagined the death in all its glorious detail, and then let it fade. He mentally repeated what he'd said to himself a thousand times.

  His death will come.

  Jack gestured to the room. “I wager your occupation is profitable.”

  “It is,” he said, smiling. “But then, so is being a thief—if you have any talent.”

  “Class-three on his first attempt,” Ursana said.

  Jack's eyes widened at the unexpected praise in her voice. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but she merely shrugged and folded her arms.

  “It's true.”

  Jack laughed, and Nemeth joined in. “One with potential,” he chortled, but a tinge of wariness had seeped into his expression.

  “So, what is our assignment?” Gordon asked.

  Nemeth's humor faded and he opened a drawer of his desk to withdraw a parchment. Unfolding it, he revealed the drawing of a necklace. He placed the parchment on the desk and stabbed a finger at it.