by Ben Hale
“Do you see another way?” Jack asked.
She ground her teeth together but didn’t argue. “What’s the plan?”
“Stay on the move and don’t engage.”
“I’ll do what I can with my magic,” she said.
“Just don’t fall behind,” Jack replied.
They had drawn close to the battle and he had to raise his voice to be heard. His words drew the attention of several of those fighting. The Bearkillers wore mostly wolf and bear furs, while the Manhunter Clan used rabbit and mountain goat hides for their clothing.
The fighting barbarians from both clans glanced at Jack and Lorelia, but Jack continued his unhurried pace. When he reached thirty paces he began to accelerate through the snow. The barbarians saw them coming and reluctantly turned to face him.
Jack stepped on a rock and leapt over their heads. He came down at their backs and kicked a foot out from under a Manhunter. He went down, giving Lorelia the gap she needed to breach the outer line. When she landed at Jack’s side they sprinted into the fray.
Jack darted behind a pair locked in mortal combat, and then ducked a stray swing from an axe. Spinning past them, he leapt a downed man and then dived to the ground. Sliding through the snow he passed through a trio of Bearkillers.
Lorelia used her magic to bend the light, obscuring her form and distracting those around her. One barbarian leapt toward her with upraised maul, but she sent a burst of light into his eyes, causing him to cry out and miss. Their passage did not go unnoticed, and barbarians from both sides began to shout.
“Skorn-blasted fool!”
“Someone kill the cowards!”
Jack stood up in indignation. “Cowards flee from battle, you Skorn-cursed whelp!”
The barbarian’s face turned red and he charged after him. Jack darted to the side, leveling a punch into his gut that knocked the wind from his lungs. Even winded he managed to swing his broadsword in an arc that would cleave Jack in two.
In a flash of movement Jack ducked and spun. Then he rose and leaned back, kicking the barbarian in the stomach to send him sprawling. As the man landed with a grunt Lorelia sprinted by.
“You’re not supposed to engage, remember?”
He turned and raced parallel to her. “They’re more irritating than I anticipated.”
A sword swung for his chest, but he launched himself into an effortless flip that carried him over the weapon. Landing in the snow, he carried his momentum into a roll that allowed him to evade two barbarians bashing each other with shields and hammers.
He came to his feet in a run and kept pace with Lorelia. “On your right,” he called out.
She grinned and came to an abrupt halt. Unable to compensate, the barbarian that had lunged for her slipped in the snow and crashed to the earth. Lorelia taunted him as he slid by. Her grin caused him to roar in fury.
“Don’t engage,” Jack said with a laugh, and her smile widened.
Deep in the thrall of bloodlust several barbarians mistook him for a foe, and moved to intercept him. Jack flicked his hand and his crossbow dropped into his palm. Thumbing the activation trigger, he pointed the tiny weapon as the bow sprang into place.
He fired once, sending an explosive bolt into the snow at their feet. The detonation failed to pierce their armor but flipped them into the air. As stunned forms rained down on their companions Jack leapt the smoking crater. One of the barbarians stumbled after him but Jack stooped to pick up a shield. Spinning, he hurled it at the woman. The heavy metal struck her in the gut, knocking the wind from her lungs and dropping her into the snow.
They reached the heart of the conflict and Jack was forced to slow. Dodging blades and bodies, he wove his way through the raging battle. He interrupted duels with abandon, laughing at the annoyance on the men’s faces. Then he reached the Bearkiller chief.
Jack stepped on a dead body and leapt over the huge man. Locked in a duel with two Manhunters, the man looked up in astonishment as Jack sailed over him. Jack smirked and flicked his dagger out, pinging the barbarian’s helmet.
“I think I’ll keep my head.”
He landed and darted away. Enraged, the barbarian chief smashed his maul into the two Manhunters and charged after Jack. The chief made no attempt to evade the fighting men and women, and smashed his maul into them as he crashed through the battle.
Empowered by body magic, his blows knocked huge men sprawling. Shields were shattered and weapons snapped in two. The Manhunters joined together, desperately trying to halt his charge but the chief would not be stopped. He exploded through their ranks and sprinted after Jack.
“I’ll crush your bones to dust, you little runt!” he shouted.
Lorelia angled her path close to him. “Do you have to anger everyone?”
“Does everyone have to anger so easily?” Jack countered.
The Manhunter chief stepped in front of them and raised his sword, but his attention was not on them. Jack and Lorelia parted and flowed around him as the man braced for the impending impact.
“We battle once more for this sacred ground—”
His challenge ended in a grunt as the Bearkiller chief knocked him sprawling and pursued Jack with relentless focus. The chief bellowed his rage and several of the other Bearkillers joined him. Confused but obedient, the Bearkillers joined the procession until hundreds charged after their chief.
The shift in battle escalated, with the change in momentum spreading across the battlefield. Following their chief’s example, the whole of the Bearkiller force began to turn toward the thieves. Recognizing the thieves as the reason for the battle’s interruption, the Manhunters roared and joined the pursuit.
“Congratulations,” Lorelia said acidly. “You’ve managed to incur the wrath of both clans.”
“They live in the north,” Jack retorted. “You would think they’d have thicker skin.”
The chaos was spreading ahead of them and barbarians from both sides lowered their blades and looked about in confusion. As more barbarians turned their focus upon them, Jack veered to an enormous Manhunter bearing a huge spiked axe.
“The Bearkillers say your mother is an ugly mutt.”
The man’s eyes nearly burst from his skull and he looked down at the trio of Bearkillers he’d been battling. His war-painted features contorted with abject fury. Even inured to battle the Bearkillers recognized their dire predicament and stumbled back.
“We don’t speak about your mother!” one shouted.
“He isn’t one of us!” another added, pointing his sword toward Jack’s fleeing form.
“LIES!” the giant bellowed.
Still attempting to placate him, the Bearkillers retreated. He charged after them, swinging his sword with lethal abandon. The Manhunters not following Jack saw his charge and followed, howling in glee. Across from them the Bearkillers reacted in kind, surging forward to counterattack.
The forces pursuing Jack and Lorelia crashed into the battle and the scene dissolved into chaos. The Bearkiller chief struggled to advance but the knot of struggling bodies would not be moved. His bellowed orders were lost in the confusion. Moments later Jack and Lorelia burst from the battle and sprinted up the empty hillside. When they had put some distance between themselves and the battle they came to a halt to catch their breath.
Jack looked down at the chaotic scene with a wild grin. Instead of two armies battling for supremacy, the conflict had fractured into pockets of men and women striking at each other in confusion. The giant man Jack had insulted continued to rampage across the battlefield, while the two chiefs could not reach each other through the press of bodies. None seemed aware that they were not even on the correct battlefield anymore—the entire battle having drifted to the gulley at the side.
“That was harrowing,” Lorelia said.
“Why?” Jack replied. “They didn’t want to fight us.”
“That changed when you taunted their chief.”
“What did you expect me to do?” Jack a
sked. “Slip by without a word?”
“That’s what any normal thief would do.”
Jack sniffed and returned his gaze to the battlefield. “I told you. I’m not a thief.”
“Then what are you, Jack?”
It irked him that he had no answer, so he didn’t give one. “We survived, didn’t we?”
“A few cuts,” Lorelia said, “but nothing substantial. You?”
“I got snow in my boots.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “We waded through ten thousand enraged barbarians and you are complaining about snow in your boots?”
“It’s cold,” Jack said. “And I’ve decided I hate the snow.”
“How can you hate the snow?”
“How can you not?”
They turned away, but Jack caught sight of Golic on the opposite side of the battle. He’d descended into the fray and fought with a valor that drew his people to him. In spite of his power he did not fight like the others and seemed to spare as many as he slew.
Jack smiled as he thought of Beauty. She too had disliked bloodshed, and even though she’d been trained for it, she forewent combat when she could. As Jack realized the similarities between the siblings he was forced to wonder about their parents. The little Jack knew of their father indicated no compassion had come from him, meaning that their kind hearts had likely come from their mother.
Jack’s thoughts turned to his own mother, who had been a thief prior to his birth. Why had she kept her past as a thief hidden? Unbidden, Lorelia’s question echoed in his mind.
Then what are you Jack?
As the sounds of the battle faded behind them he wondered why his mother hated being a thief. Was it because she was ashamed of what she’d done? Or ashamed of what Jack would become? He scowled as his gut tightened. He couldn’t deny how much fun it was to be a thief, but what else was there?
Swear you won’t be a thief, his mother’s words echoed in his mind.
I already did, Jack thought, but his words were laced with regret.
Chapter 10: Beauty
They made their way south until they reached the western pass. Once they were through the mountains they slowed their pace. They kept a sharp eye on their back trail, but no barbarians appeared to be pursuing them. When they finally descended out of the high mountains Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
“I thought I’d never be warm again,” Jack said.
“I wouldn’t call this warm.”
Jack grinned but couldn’t argue. The wind carried a bite that heralded the coming winter. Even though snow had yet to fall in the valleys, the air was scented with it. Still, the difference from the high mountains was stark enough that Jack undid his cloak and brushed the lingering speckles of ice from its surface.
“What are we going to do about Skorn?” Lorelia asked.
He shrugged. “Find Beauty and get the keys before Skorn does.”
“Do you ever make a real plan?”
He frowned at her acerbic tone. “Do you have a better one?”
“Actually I do,” she said. “If our infamous Guildmaster really has joined the Cult of Skorn, he’s got himself an army.”
“So?”
“We could send another group of thieves to retrieve the second key,” she said. “I am the new Guildmaster, after all.”
“Have you forgotten how dangerous he is?” Jack asked. “Sending another group would just get them killed.”
“Why?” she challenged. “You think you are the best of the guild?”
He sidestepped the loaded question. “Other thieves would not be prepared for what they would face.”
“They can handle a few cultists.”
“Have you forgotten who leads them?” Jack asked, irritated now. “He knows the guild’s tactics. I’m not inclined to have anyone’s blood on my hands.”
“Then why bring Beauty at all?” she asked.
“She won’t get herself killed.”
Lorelia came to a halt on a ledge that overlooked the valley. “You aren’t the only one who cares about her, you know. In the last six months she’s been the closest thing I had to a friend in the guild, even though she doesn’t know about . . .”
She grimaced and looked away, and Jack didn’t break the silence. They had both avoided the topic for days but it had affected every interaction. Every time he looked at her he imagined her scarred and malformed features. He wanted to ask where she’d gotten the scars but thought that would be callous. Instead he cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“Besides, we need to be cautious who we reveal the truth to,” he said, reminding her of their conversation in the guildhall. “He may still have loyal followers within the guild.”
“You talked about Ursana and Gordon,” she said. “Are you certain you trust them?”
He hesitated, and recalled the assignments they had shared prior to defeating the Guildmaster. Even when he’d been imprisoned by the elves and left to be executed, they had risked everything to help him get into the guild, and nearly lost their lives for it.
“I defeated Skorn with their help,” he said.
“He wasn’t prepared for us then,” she said. “This time he is. You need to be cautious.”
He smiled at her words. “Is that an order?”
“I am the Guildmaster.”
“You don’t need the title for men to obey you,” he said.
Her lips twitched as she stepped over a downed log that blocked the trail. Jack followed, and a moment later the trail turned back on itself to negotiate a steep section of rock. Winding past towering pine trees, the trail forked, with one path heading west and the other curving into a northern valley.
“We should split up,” Lorelia said, coming to a halt. “We know very little on the Cult of Skorn and ignorance will cost us.”
“And how is splitting up going to give us answers?”
“I’ll go back to the guildhall and retrieve the others. You head north and learn what you can from the taverns. Find Beauty and meet me south of Terros. I can take a Gate to Terros and head south to meet you.”
He folded his arms at the mention of a Gate. Skorn had brought the four mirrors to the guild shortly after becoming Guildmaster, and installed them in the three guildhalls while keeping one for his private use. They allowed the higher rank thieves to travel to Terros and Woodhaven with ease. They were artifacts left by the ancients and lost to time, but Jack guessed Skorn had known where they had been hidden.
“And why do I get to walk a thousand miles while you portal to the city?” Jack asked.
“Because you have a way of loosening tongues,” she said, and a shadow of her former smile crossed her features. “And we don’t want to raise suspicions in the guild. If we both return and then leave again, a Skorn spy will know something is amiss.”
“I don’t care for your logic.”
“That’s because you know I’m right.”
He muttered under his breath. “As you order.”
“Travel safe, Jack,” she said.
“You as well, beautiful.”
He’d called her that before, and the word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. She stared at him, clearly unsure if he was being sarcastic or earnest. Ultimately her expression tightened and she spun away.
“Three weeks,” she called over her shoulder. “And don’t get lost!”
He wanted to apologize but the words did not come. How did one apologize for calling a woman beautiful? He released an explosive breath and took the right fork. By nightfall the autumn temperatures plummeted and he was cursing her name.
It took four days to reach a settlement, and by the time he arrived he was starving. He even fought a coyote for its kill, and grilled the rabbit over a small fire. When he trudged into the small village he couldn’t decide what he wanted more, a bed or a meal. Then he smelled the savory scent coming from the tavern and his stomach made the decision for him.
He ate three bowls of stew, half a loaf of brea
d, and a wedge of cheese before he wearily ascended to a room and sank into the bed. He slept late, and indulged in another hearty meal while the others in the room ate lunch.
As he stood up from his table a trio of burly men shouldered their way inside. They strode to the counter and drew knives on the owner’s wife. In low tones they demanded all her coin. Shaking, she fumbled for the gold.
The door opened and a weary woman stepped inside. Her arrival caused the bandits to spin—and stare in shock at her beauty. She ignored them and sank into a seat near the door. Then she noticed Jack and a smile appeared on her face.
She looked much like she had six months ago. Her black hair was tied down her back, her piercing blue eyes carrying a steel that belied her frame. She’d given up her thief blacks in favor of merchant garb, but her clothes were a hair too rich for her persona, accentuating the curves of her form.
“Beauty,” he said.
“Jack,” she drawled. “It’s been a while.”
“Your coin!” one of the bandits shouted, recovering from Beauty’s presence enough to brandish a knife. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”
“I was coming to find you,” Jack said, ignoring the bandits.
“And I was on my way back to the guild,” she said, and her smile widened. “How did you know where I was?”
“Your coin!” a second bandit growled, stepping close to Jack.
“I got your note,” he said. “I like your brother, by the way.”
“Everyone likes him,” she replied, her smile turning soft. “If he survives I think he might even unify the clans.”
“Do you wish for death?” the bandit said, his voice turning shrill as Jack and Beauty continued to ignore him. “Give me your coin!”
“You too,” the third bandit said, and stepped toward Beauty with a sleazy smile. “Unless you want to pay by other means—”
Her hand snapped out, striking him in the gut and forcing the air from his lungs. He dropped to his knees, his jaw working in vain. She rose to her feet and casually pushed him aside. The bandits whirled to face her and began to shout, but Jack’s voice cut through their fury.
“If you’re looking for coin, I’ve got one for you.”
