by Ben Hale
“What sort of magic are they?” he asked.
Ero chuckled at the question. “They can be created from a variety of energies, but it is not magic.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at that. “How can she not be made of magic?”
Ero’s smile widened. “Because, my dear thief, ancients cannot wield magic.”
Jack had not expected that, and mulled the idea over in his mind. Could he use that to defeat Skorn?
“I take it you will be dealing with your brother now?”
“On the contrary,” Ero said. “Without the beacon he is helpless. It is not serious enough for us to intervene.”
“You’re leaving me to clean up your mess?” Jack folded his arms. “I expected better from you.”
Anger washed across Ero’s features. “We deal with problems you cannot imagine, and are preparing for a war you lack the capacity to understand. As much as I would like to resolve every dispute on Lumineia, there are other realms with far more pressing threats.”
“What about Draeken?” Jack asked.
Ero’s eyes narrowed. “A mistake, I grant you. We chose poorly in inviting him to join our ranks. Fortunately, he is imprisoned and cannot harm you.”
“Like Skorn was imprisoned?”
Rage rippled across his features. “Give me the beacon and return to your realm. There’s nothing for you here.”
Jack stared at him but saw no hint of compromise. He sighed and reached to the pouch on his side. Then he withdrew the black pyramid he’d taken from vault and handed it to the ancient. Ero smiled at the gesture.
“Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want my brother to get this. Summoning the rest of my people would be devastating to yours.”
Jack sniffed. “For a god you aren’t very nice—or smart.”
Myria glided toward him, but Ero shook his head. “I never said I was a god, Jack. That’s a title your ancestors gave me because they did not understand.”
“Then enlighten me,” Jack replied, and gestured to the great sphere they stood in. “What sort of race builds a place like this—without magic—yet manages to kill themselves in the Dawn of Magic.”
Ero regarded him for several moments until he sighed in regret. “We have our merits,” he replied, “but our failings are the same as yours.”
“So that’s why you won’t step in,” Jack said with a scowl. “You lack the courage to kill your brother so you hope I will do it for you.”
Ero didn’t blink. “Have a good life, Jack.”
Jack made his way to the corridor that led to the Gate and paused to look back. The miniature sun had begun to brighten like dawn, and the storm on the other side abated, leaving trees and paths blanketed in drops of glistening water.
Ero and Myria followed him but kept their distance. Their expressions made it clear they doubted he would depart without assistance. Jack frowned in irritation and turned on his heel, leaving without another look.
He reached the Gate and stepped through, climbing back onto the Irilian Shield. Then he stooped and yanked one of the daggers from its slot. The Gate began to close, shrinking upon itself as it faded. Jack retrieved the other key and held them over the above the shrinking portal, but hesitated. On impulse he pocketed them and then settled in to wait. Minutes stretched into hours, but the Gate did not reopen. When he was certain he was not being followed he reached into a pouch at his side and withdrew a black pyramid—the second item he’d taken from the vault.
“How long will it take Ero to realize I stole more than a beacon?” The pyramid did not answer, but Jack nodded as if it did. “I agree. Long enough for us to return to Margauth and deal with Skorn.”
A smile spreading on his face, he turned and left.
Chapter 40: Astaroth
He expected to find Lorelia waiting, but she was absent. He descended from the Irilian Shield and entered the shifting sands expecting to find her at the base. By the time he reached the first oasis he knew she was gone. At first his irritation mounted, but as the days dragged by he realized her absence gave him time to consider his options.
Ero’s words regarding the beacon inspired a sense of caution that he could not shake. If he returned without the beacon, Skorn would kill his friends. But if Skorn obtained the beacon, Jack would be the reason the ancients returned.
He wrinkled his nose in annoyance. He’d defeated Skorn before with allies, but his attempt to infiltrate Margauth had been disastrous. This time he would be entering Margauth alone and facing an enemy that knew exactly what Jack was capable of.
After four days he entered the Fractured Plains and made camp in a small gully sheltered by a tower of stone. Foregoing a fire, he wrapped himself in a blanket and stared at the starry sky, gnawing on a strip of dried meat.
The answer seemed easy. He needed allies. But as easy as the answer was, Jack could think of no one he trusted. The few thieves he did trust were already in Margauth, and he’d alienated nearly everyone else.
“Perhaps it’s time I meet some new friends,” he said.
You have to be nice to make friends.
His lips twisted into a smile as he imagined Beauty’s words, and realized she was right. But if did not have friends, perhaps he could buy allies. Although there was any number of mercenary guilds he could employ, he might as well hire the best . . .
Rock trolls.
He grinned, considering the risk in attempting to subvert the rock trolls. Tryton would never permit his people to serve a thief, regardless of the foe. It would be far safer to hire Talinorian Mercenaries, or cheaper to get ones from Griffin. Still, he found the prospect of stealing a contract to be appealing because of its danger. And Skorn would not be prepared for such a powerful foe. Unable the shake the thought, he rose and gathered his things. He shifted direction and turned west, heading deeper into the Fractured Plains.
Fatigue drove him to sleep around dawn, but after a few hours he rose again and pressed on. As he hiked he considered how his plan could fail, but each time he came up confident, and his smile widened.
His path took him toward the heart of the Fractured Plains, and it didn’t take the rock trolls long to find him. He heard them coming and came to a halt, turning in their direction. The patrol of six rock trolls rose from a depression in the earth and approached.
Like all of their kind, the trolls stood over eight feet in height. Four were female while two were male. Each bore unique soulblades they crafted as part of their training, with the leader bearing a spiked warhammer.
He was smaller than the others, the number of kills marked across his chest, right arm, and face were fewer than those of his companions. In spite of his stature Jack got the sense he would grow to surpass the others.
“What is your purpose in our lands?” the youth spoke first, marking himself as the captain.
“I have engaged a contract with High Captain Arana,” Jack said with a short bow. “I came to collect a patrol of your people.”
“And you trust us?” a second troll asked, a smile on his face. “Not too long ago our people were the flesh of war, and slaughtered anyone that entered our lands.”
“That was before Tryton became your king,” Jack said.
“You know of our king?” the captain asked.
“We’ve never met, but I’ve had the pleasure of engaging some of your people in the past.” Jack suppressed a smile as he thought of his infiltration of the Terros castle.
“I’m Thorvaldur, seventh Felshard under Captain Moritha.”
“Alic Thorn,” Jack replied.
“Come,” he said. “We can speak of your contract in Astaroth.”
The trolls shifted around him, making clear it was a command, not a request. Jack looked up at the female troll and her litany of tattoos, marking every kill and feat. A smile crossed his face.
“Aren’t you a charmer.”
“How did you know?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her features.
“Are you going to fall for a human, Korn
a?” one of the trolls asked.
She laughed. “Of course not. But he is handsome.”
Thorvaldur laughed and ordered them to their ranks. Then the trolls led him across the expanse of a broken rock. Once they were on the move Thorvaldur dropped back to walk beside him.
“Where are you from, human?”
Jack heard more in the troll’s voice than curiosity. The rock trolls were adept at combat in every form, and were as intelligent as any race. If Jack revealed too much, they were just as likely to imprison him and turn him over to any of the kingdoms that wanted him. Besides, stealing a rock troll’s loyalty was dangerous enough.
“My contract has a time element,” he said. “Would it be possible to hasten our journey?”
“As you will,” he said. “Can you keep up with us?”
Jack grinned. “Can you keep up with me?”
The trolls laughed and began to run. Jack accelerated with them, grinning at the blistering pace. He thought of his panther companion and recalled racing through the trees for hours, relishing the rush of wind on his face. It had been too long since he’d simply run.
Thorvaldur looked at him several times as if expecting him to quit, but when Jack kept pace his smile widened. Then they reached a twenty-foot ravine and the trolls slowed. Jack slipped between them and reached the edge, leaping effortlessly over the gap.
“You’re falling behind!” he cast over his shoulder, eliciting a bark of laughter.
The trolls caught up and Thorvaldur gestured to him. “What sort of magic drives you, human? You do not appear as a barbarian.”
“I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” Jack said.
“You’re a curious man,” Korna said with chuckle.
Jack grinned, and then they reached another shallow canyon and the terrain prevented further conversation. For the rest of the day they rushed across the plateau. In spite of his stamina Jack began to struggle. Unwilling to admit it, he pushed his body to the limit. Then they topped a rise and Astaroth came into view. His chest heaving, Jack slowed with the others, grateful the trolls had not met him further from the citadel.
“Have you tired yet?” the female asked.
“Of course not,” he said, forcing a laugh while digging the heel of his palm into his side. “You?”
“Never,” she replied.
She was breathing hard, but no more than if she’d just jogged across a courtyard. The others were the same, and Jack found himself wondering how such a race trained.
“This way,” Thorvaldur said. “King Tryton and his Warshards are currently in the dwarven kingdom, so you will be meeting with Drenuh, high cleric of our clan.”
Realizing he needed to stall, Jack allowed more of his weariness to show. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he winced and caught his side.
“Perhaps in the morning?” he asked. “I admit I may have pushed too hard.”
Thorvaldur smiled and agreed. “As you will,” he said. “Korna, find him quarters and inform Drenuh of his arrival.”
“As you will,” the female said, and gestured Jack to follow her.
Jack bid them farewell and followed her down the slope to the courtyard that abutted the fortress. As they approached, Jack’s eyes lifted to the citadel. Built within a tower of stone, the fortress boasted high balconies and natural battlements. From the shape of the openings Jack guessed that caves had once lined the interior, and the rock trolls had expanded them for their use.
A series of huge boulders had been rolled into a wall, forming a courtyard that stretched to the west, but Korna led him through a smaller side entrance. They passed hulking rock trolls standing as sentinels and entered a corridor that sloped upward.
Huge shields and weapons adorned the walls, and were interspersed with banners of fallen armies. Rock trolls strode about on their respective errands, their heavy footfalls echoing off the hard walls. A handful of other races appeared dressed in servant’s garb.
“If you would care for a meal,” she said. “I can take you to the meal hall.”
“I have my own food,” he said gesturing to his pack. “And it’s been a tiring day. Right now I’d rather sleep.”
“As you will,” she said. She turned down a smaller side corridor and came to a stop beside a large door. “These will be your quarters for the night. I wouldn’t suggest wandering about. King Tryton may have changed our laws, but we still treat intruders with lethal force.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he said, and yawned to reinforce the façade of fatigue. Then he slipped inside and she shut the door. Her shadow remained in the hall, and he guessed she would stay there throughout the night.
He turned to find the room more spacious than he’d expected, but containing little more than a bed and a small balcony. Elven light orbs were bracketed on the walls, illuminating the space in soft light.
Removing his pack, he went through the motions of getting ready to sleep and extinguished the lights. Then he waited until he was certain they would not check on him. He considered it unlikely, but there was always the chance they would discover his identity during the night.
He could have sought to initiate a new contract but that would have led to too many questions. Stealing another would be much easier—if he could find one. He shifted to the balcony and stepped outside.
The balcony faced north and was located near the base of the citadel. The expanse of the Fractured Plains stretched away from him, barely visible under the darkening sky. Air warmed by the stone wafted across him, curling around the citadel on its way south.
He turned and looked up, scanning the surface of the fortress and its myriad of balconies. Most were easily identifiable as private rooms, likely reserved for higher ranked members of the tribe. Although there was always the chance that such records would be contained deeper in the fortress, he guessed information on contracts was considered less valuable. Anyone could see who the trolls guarded, so hiding it would be unnecessary.
He glanced back at the door and then fired his shadowhook to one of the balconies above. The thread of ink was nearly invisible in the fading light, allowing him to ascend without being seen. He reached a balcony and heard a pair of voices from within. Drifting to the side, he fired again, and scaled his way up the exterior of the fortress.
He reached a large balcony and peeked inside. It connected to a multi-level training room, with hundreds of young rock trolls locked in duels. He pressed on to the next before any noticed him. It was equally disappointing, but the third showed promise.
He eased onto the balcony and crept to the archway leading to the interior. To his surprise he found a series of rooms, all spacious enough to indicate one of exceptionally high rank. A private bathing room, sleeping quarters, and what looked to be an office surrounded a central room.
A soft voice touched his ears and his gaze flicked to the side. Visible through an open doorway, he spotted a female rock troll sitting on the bed of a child. Her soft song echoed back to Jack. He remained in place, listening to the surprisingly gentle tone. Curiosity brought him close until he was able to see the singer.
She was tall and graceful, her skin flawless. The lack of tattoos marked her as a mage, but she was intimidating without them. Her legacy was visible in the litany of scars lining her shoulders, arms, and legs. Then the troll rose to her feet and turned, and Jack realized who she was. She was Kythira, joined to the most powerful rock troll in ages, King Tryton.
And Jack was about to steal from her.
Chapter 41: A Mother’s Rage
Jack knew her name from the tales of her husband, and Kythira’s legend nearly matched his. She was rumored to be tremendously powerful in both wind and healing magics, and as smart as Tryton. If she discovered him in the chambers of her children it would be like poking a dragon in the eye.
She exited the room and strode toward the balcony, forcing Jack to drop off the side and hang by his shadowhook. Her footfalls approached and came to a halt directly above his head. As she
looked over the dark vista he controlled his breathing.
Kythira remained on the balcony for several minutes. Then he spotted a paper bird drop into view and soar away. Evidently enchanted with wind magic, it banked away and flew west. Her message complete, she turned and reentered her quarters.
Jack waited for several minutes before easing himself back onto the balcony. Then he slipped to the side of the opening and peered inside. Instead of moving to the bedchamber, Kythira strode to the office and sat at a massive desk. Under the light of a trio of light orbs, she set to work.
A curse nearly found its way from Jack’s lips but he caught it in time. When it became clear that Kythira intended on working into the night, he eased himself around the corner and glided across the darkened training room. Keeping a sharp ear for her movements, he searched the rest of the royal chambers, hoping the records he sought would be contained elsewhere. When the effort proved futile he returned to the training room and hid behind a rack of shields.
The minutes ticked by as Jack considered his options. He could return to his room and attempt to bluff his way into a contract, but didn’t care for the odds of that endeavor. Tryton had forged his people into protectors, and personally verified every potential contract—both target and buyer.
Or he could continue with his original plan, and steal an existing contract. He’d never anticipated an adversary as powerful as Kythira. It was still better than returning to Margauth empty handed.
Frowning, he returned to the balcony and activated his crossbow, thumbing the detonation rune. He took aim at one of the unoccupied balconies lower down. He hesitated, questioning the wisdom in inciting the trolls. Then he shrugged and fired.
He darted inside as the explosive bolt detonated, sending a burst of fire into the night and a tremor through the stone. Jack slipped behind a rack of shields before Kythira burst from her office and raced to the balcony. She shouted to someone and then sprinted to the door. The moment she disappeared Jack sprinted to the office.
Built for rock trolls, the desk was huge. The surface was at his throat, and he slid under it to a cabinet on the wall. He yanked the doors open and his gaze fell upon piles of parchment. Most appeared to contain information on kings and nations, their relative strengths and status of treaties. With great care he sifted through them until he found a stack of recent contracts.
