Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  “I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” Ossic said. They both glanced at the man who’s eyes were still wide. He was motionless and covered in blood.

  “That is unfortunate,” Groth said. “I do not wish to end human lives when they are already so short.”

  “Then we should talk,” Ossic said. He glanced at Cimir’s unconscious body. “He will live. The poison disables the body but does no long term damage.”

  Groth chuckled a little. “You are a man who presents himself to be in complete control of any situation. You must have archers on the rooftops, watching. Should I make a wrong move, you would threaten to kill Cimir.”

  Ossic nodded at that. “I am genuinely impressed with your reasoning skills. And your eloquence. The Stonemar we work with tend to speak little.”

  Groth sighed but held his tongue. There was nothing to say about the matter of his people. “How can we come to a peaceful conclusion to this dispute?”

  Ossic shrugged. “You take your friend and we both go home. I’ve already lost. Cimir will wake up and kill me with his spells. Kill all of us with his spells, I imagine.”

  “I suspect that he will.”

  “Unless I could convince you to render us aid?” Ossic said. “We would compensate you handsomely.”

  “This operation is mine as much as it is his,” Groth replied, he bent down and picked Cimir up with one hand, cradling him like a baby. If arrows started flying, he could just fold in and let them bounce off.

  “Then perhaps a business arrangement?” Ossic said. “Something to stay his wrath. To be fair, he was going to try to kill us first. We weren’t the aggressors in this situation.”

  “I am reasonable, but I do not forget that you were quick to order your man to kill me,” Groth said.

  “I had every reason to try. Just like I have every reason to try to make a deal right now,” Ossic said. “My guild has many resources, contacts and allies. We ignored your work out of a professional courtesy, but now that we’re both forced to deal with one another, wouldn’t a friendship be better than a slaughter?”

  Groth pondered the situation. This man was clearly a leader of sorts, but guilds, at least as far as he could tell, were full of others who would quickly take charge. Perhaps removing Ossic from the chain of command would put another, grateful man in power. There was little time for him to determine what to do. Perhaps he could delay.

  “Come inside then, we will sort this out,” Groth said, pointing to the severely fractured doorway. “There is no reason to stand in the street talking.”

  Ossic hesitated at that. Groth could see the man agonize between fleeing or agreeing. “I will not harm you, on my word as a Stonemar. As long as you are under my roof, you will not die,” Groth promised.

  Ossic went to speak, but instead turned to run. Groth should have reached out his hand and shattered the man’s skull. He should have quickly ended the problem before it escalated any further, but he couldn’t. There wasn’t enough time to ponder all the ramifications. Instead, he merely covered Cimir’s body with his other arm and watched as the thief ran off into the night. Snap decisions were once again, the bane of his existence.

  Chapter 29:

  A sensation of terror moved through Cimir. He felt as if something were clawing through his veins, fighting against him. In the back of his mind, he knew he was dreaming, but the sensations were alltoo vivid. He gasped and coughed, trying to fight against the clawing beneath his skin, but to no avail. There was no way to escape.

  “Cimir! Cimir!” Samuel’s voice shouted from the fog. Tremors rippled through his body until finally, he could bear it no long and opened his eyes. He was awake. Whatever terrible dream was gone. Now, he was laying on a table in a cold room, a beautiful woman staring at him. She was wearing white robes and an apron. Beside her was a bespectacled man, who was busy washing the side of Cimir’s arm.

  “What happened?” Cimir whispered. “Am I dead?”

  “You should be so lucky,” the man said. “No, you are very much so alive. Paralyzed, but alive. It would seem whatever poison you were dosed with did not agree with your system. Normally, Hysian Holdweed would have worn off by now.”

  “I’m thinking the effects of sorcery did this,” the woman said. She gently dabbed Cimir’s head with a towel. “Your magic, did you try to use it when under the effects of the poison?”

  Cimir shrugged. He could remember some of what had happened, but the memories were distorted, as if he were looked at a painting through a backwards lens. “Most likely.”

  “Hysian’s properties don’t do well with magic,” she whispered. She jotted a few things down in a journal.

  “Hence why it was so popular to kill wizards with,” the man replied.

  “Bring me Erice, she will heal me,” Cimir said. “I don’t need traditional medicine.”

  “You might not believe it, being the sole man left who can wield magic and all,” the male doctor said as he smeared a strange orange poultice against Cimir’s arm, “but trust me, you don’t want magic to heal this.”

  “Hysian stays in the system,” the woman explained. “When you try to cast spells, it just gets more aggressive.”

  “Sounds magical in nature, can’t it be dispelled?” Cimir asked. He could feel some feeling in his arms, but when he tried to move at all, nothing happened. Talking and moving his head slightly was the only thing he was capable of.

  “Hysian was strained with magical plants, to achieve this effect,” the man murmured. “But its offspring wouldn’t retain that magic.”

  “Right, the uh…Essence Effect?” Cimir asked. “That’s the right principle, right?”

  “Alchemical Reproduction, actually,” the woman said. “Please, don’t strain yourself. We’re two highly accomplished healers. My name is Lady Mira and this fine doctor is Doctor Prestin.”

  “A pleasure. I’m Cimir.”

  “You’re lucky you passed out when you did,” Prestin continued as he worked more of the poultice across Cimir’s chest. “Casting any more spells might have constricted your lungs or heart. This concoction could purge the mixture from your body, but it might take some time. A few weeks.”

  “I don’t have weeks. I need to find out who did this and get rid of them before they come back,” Cimir said. He struggled to move, but once again, nothing happened.

  “Revenge, as Saint Jarick would say, should be sacrificed at the altar of forgiveness,” Lady Mira replied. “It will only serve to eat you up from the inside.”

  “My magic will devour their insides,” Cimir replied.

  “Hah, you are lively, I’ll give you that,” Prestin said. “But you won’t be committing any atrocities quite yet. Rest. And don’t you dare try to cast a spell. It’ll restart the whole process.”

  “Where’s Elias or Groth?” Cimir asked. “I need them.”

  “They are back at the headquarters, I guess,” Lady Mira replied. “We have been instructed to hide you here, for now. With this thieves guild holding a grudge, we can’t risk anyone spotting us.”

  “We have enough supplies to last us a month or so,” Prestin said. “For now, we’re to hole up in here and wait for you to recover. Any missteps could send more of those bastards your way.”

  “Discretion makes sense,” Cimir whispered. “Do we have any security?”

  “Your apprentice is upstairs, keeping an eye on the entrance.”

  Cimir groaned at that. He needed his books, something to help counter poisons of this nature. How foolish had he been, to pick a fight with men who knew his reputation. They were ready for his magic and he blindly walked into an uneven fight.

  “I messed up,” he moaned. “I messed up really badly.”

  “From what I hear, you stood up to the thieves guild, that is a noble endeavor,” Lady Mira said. “Saint Jarick believed that – “

  “I mean you no disrespect, but what good is a religion when all powers it bestows upon you cease the moment someone brings an oversized crystal into to
wn?” Cimir asked.

  Mira laughed. “I don’t look to faith and my beliefs to give me power, but to give me hope and direction. I used magic to give me power, but that was taken from me. I didn’t stumble though, because I still had my faith.”

  Cimir would have shrugged if it were possible. “You were a wizard?”

  “The both of us. Well accomplished and brilliant in our fields,” Prestin said. “You aren’t the only one in town to have a complex understanding of the arcane. The only thing that makes you special is that you know how to use magic still.”

  “I’ll gladly share my secret with you two,” Cimir muttered. “I could use some more apprentices.”

  “Sorcery has too great a cost for me to bear,” Lady Mira replied. “My soul will not intertwine with magic.”

  “Are you scared of burning out your soul?” Cimir asked with a laugh.

  “Terrified. As you should be. It goes both ways you know, sure, you tie your spirit to your body so that you can harness magic, but that carries tremendous risk,” Mira whispered. Her hands trembled a little as she worked to spread more of the poultices across his forehead. “Risk of losing your soul.”

  “Superstition,” Cimir said. “Plain and simple. Magic is magic, whether internal or external.”

  “I want to have an afterlife, thank you very much,” Mira said. “And I’d rather not roll those dice.”

  “For the record, I don’t believe in soul burning stuff behind sorcery,” Prestin said. “I object on other grounds.”

  “Oh, and what grounds are those?”

  “Sorcery is inferior to written magic,” the wizard replied.

  Cimir laughed at that. At least he would have a lot to talk about in the agonizing weeks of recovery. These two would make for great company.

  Markov sat across from Prax, who was sitting on the ground, leaning against the Kalimar statue and eagerly eating an apple. They were waiting for Elias to arrive, in broad daylight. He wasn’t comfortable meeting the man out in the Fountain District, but with the close proximity to the City Building, security was heavier. Whatever trouble Elias was in, the messenger made it clear that Markov needed to have plenty of men nearby.

  Prax took another bite of the apple, causing Markov to frown. Something was off about this foreigner. At first, Lord Prax had been pragmatic, but cruel, ordering Markov to search for the source of the Cimirite or else. Then a week later, Prax called Markov into his office and said to forget about the whole thing. That he was sorry for being so bossy and decided to trust Markov’s judgment. The man had actually said the word bossy.

  Something was wrong, and Elias was clearly behind it somehow. Was it mind-control? Possession? A doppelganger? The ways that magic could have screwed with Prax’s ability to think and reason were endless. But Markov had no proof of the matter. Besides, even with proof, what would change? With Prax in his current state of being little more than an agreeable hound dog, the city of Glimmer belonged to the watch.

  Yet, at the same time, this couldn’t last forever. Despite the tricks that Elias had figured out, eventually the truth would come out and then war would begin. Markov wasn’t fond of the idea, hundreds of thousands of armed warriors pouring over the walls, but his city would at least have time to prepare. The Cimirite would change the course of battle easily enough.

  “Captain!” Elias’ voice called out, snapping Markov from his musings about future wars. He looked up to see that Elias was pushing through two of the guards.

  “Ah, it is good to see you, friend,” Markov said, standing to attention. Prax didn’t bother to get up, instead he continued to munch on his apple, without a care in the world.

  “As well as it is you. I know we didn’t wish to operate out in the open like this,” Elias said as he walked up to the captain, “but circumstances are dire.”

  “Are they now?” Markov asked. He gestured toward one of the benches by a fountain. Elias refused to sit and instead just shook his head.

  “I thought that the old thieves guild had been destroyed, but recent rumblings suggest they still exist within the city.”

  Markov frowned. “Criminal groups aren’t really destroyed, they just reincarnate. The latest band is…difficult to handle. They’re more than just a bunch of cutpurses and thugs who pool their resources together. One of my boys, Ossic used to be a part of the guard, til he realized there was more to make by breaking into houses rather than protecting them.”

  “Well, we’ve made the very unfortunate error of invoking their ire. I need this handled quickly.”

  “Handled?” Markov asked with a laugh. “What you want us to raid them? Like they have some big headquarters where they all meet? They’re thieves. They work in the shadows, independently of one another. Only management runs the show from the darkness and they’re impossible to locate.

  “We had thirty of them on our doorstep just three days ago,” Elias said. He began to pace back and forth, wringing his hands. “They almost killed our sorcerer.”

  “Really?” Markov asked. “How?”

  “Poison,” Elias mumbled. “How could we have been so stupid?”

  “Relax,” Markov replied, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He kept calm in order to make sure that Elias stayed cool. Running afoul of the Thieves Guild was a rather dire situation, but panicking would do little to help. “Take it easy. I’ll handle it, somehow. Why were you fighting? Did they want a cut of the sales or something?”

  Elias shrugged. “They have a guy who can make potions out of our product. We tried to buy him out and they wanted to keep him.”

  “Trade dispute,” Markov murmured. He stroked his thick mustache as he pondered the problem. “And your sorcerer almost died?”

  “Cimir is seriously wounded, he’ll recover soon, but without him, we’re vulnerable,” Elias replied. “Hence why I requested a major presence of your men here.”

  “So, it’s more than just a petty feud, you think?” Markov asked.

  “Back when I was on the Magistrate, it wasn’t uncommon for an assassin to appear in someone’s chambers in the middle of the night. That building was heavily guarded, under constant protection and warded with half a dozen spells. We have a warehouse,” Elias replied. “A big warehouse with multiple ways to sneak in. If they have an assassin in their employ, I’m as good as dead. I can’t cast spells when I’m asleep.”

  Markov tried to reason with the man. “If this was just an economic dispute, we can probably sort it out with a sit down. I’ll reach out and see if I can get them to negotiate with you.”

  “And that’ll work? Why would they honor any agreement with us?” Elias asked.

  “Because I have the feeling that they’re just as scared as you,” Markov replied. “You still have magic in your hands.”

  “Not for now,” Elias whimpered.

  “But as long as you act like it, you’ll be fine,” Markov said. “Trust me. I’ll handle this.” He paused and glanced over at Prax, who was still sitting on the ground, staring at bugs like a child. “But first I want to know what’s going on with him.”

  “Prax? I wanted him here just in case you saw it prudent to use his forces. They’ll obey his every command without hesitation,” Elias said.

  “Not his presence here…his strange and full cooperation,” Markov said. “He obeys any request I make of him. When his people come to him with reports, he scolds them and tells them that they are to report to me. I catch him sleeping at his desk. You did something to him, I just don’t know what.”

  “We paid him off,” Elias replied. “Easy enough. He’s taking a ten percent cut of everything we make. Best business deal we’ve ever made.”

  Markov glanced back at the man. He had finished eating the apple and was now just leaning back, basking in the sun without a worry in the world. A month ago, Prax had forced Markov to his knees and snapped his finger for defying him. “I’m not an idiot. A man like Prax would not have betrayed his ideals for pay.”

  Elias sh
rugged. “Then talk to Samuel, he made the deal. Maybe he found something to blackmail the guy with. Either way, you should be thankful. With his current lack of care, you’re the only one in this city with the power to get things done.”

  Markov shook his head. “We are playing with fire. It’s only a matter of time before we get burned.”

  “The trick is to snuff the flames out right before they get to you,” Elias said. “He’s fine the way he is. Don’t worry about it.”

  Ossic sat in silence in the Ward, watching the family of his old friend Miron, lay the man to rest. His body had been shattered by stone, so gruesome were his injuries that Miron’s casket was sealed shut before the wife even had a chance to see his face. Ossic had been the one to tell her of the loss. He had held her in his arms as she sobbed.