Thief in the Myst (The Master Thief Book 2)

by Ben Hale

  Skorn’s eyes widened and for the first time a trace of fear tightened his features. Then it turned to disbelief. “My brother would not follow you.”

  Jack let the implication hang, enjoying the fear in Skorn’s eyes. “He did not need to,” Jack finally said. “He just needed to send his own servants.”

  Something behind Jack caused the cultists to stir, fear causing them to stumble back. From the billowing snow a massive figure appeared. Cloaked in white and bearing a huge spiked warhammer, Thorvaldur advanced as if the storm did not touch him. Then another troll appeared, and another. As each resolved into clarity the cultists began to shout, screaming to shut the gates.

  Skorn’s eyes widened with shock at the appearance of the trolls, and then his expression turned scornful. He’d evidently expected Eternals or perhaps his brother, but the mortal trolls did not frighten him. He began to call for order but a booming voice drowned out his words.

  “Your master is not a god!” Thorvaldur roared. “And we, the servants of Ero, have come to destroy him for his impudence! Lay down your weapons or suffer the wrath of a just god!”

  Shouts and screams erupted from the people and cult members bolted to the gates. Jack drifted to the side as if to leave space for them—and plunged a knife through the edge of the door, sinking the blade into the wooden beam beyond. The cultists caught the door and pulled but the knife would not be dislodged. Unable to close the gates, they began to panic.

  “They’re just trolls!” Skorn shouted, but his voice was lost in the din.

  Gallow drew his dagger and idalia. “Hold the line!” he shouted. As they gathered around him Skorn yanked his sword from its scabbard and threw it forward, where it took up position in the open gate. Then he turned to Jack, but his fury died on his lips.

  Jack was gone.

  Chapter 43: Friend

  “JAAAACK!”

  Skorn’s roar echoed throughout the fortress, bringing a smile to Jack’s lips as he sprinted through the citadel. The moment Skorn’s and Gallow’s attention had been on the trolls he’d pocketed the beacon. Then he’d removed his cloak to reveal the green cloak he’d “liberated” from a cult member that had been drunk in Hilltop. He’d blended into the fleeing cult members and slipped into Margauth.

  The clash of arms reverberated throughout the fortress as he ascended the steps. Despite his urgency he paused at a window overlooking the courtyard. Led by Korna, the trolls charged through the door and slammed into the hastily organized line of cultists. Weapons clashed, sending blood into the snow at their feet.

  For a few seconds Skorn’s cultists stood their ground. Then they began to flee, bleeding away from the troll’s might. Those most faithful remained, screaming and throwing themselves at the trolls. Unperturbed by the odds, the trolls advanced like farmers at the harvest, and left stalks of fallen grain in their wake. Korna peeled off from the group and engaged Gallow, matching him blow for blow.

  Outside the gates, Thorvaldur was in the fight of his life against Skorn’s blade. The weapon struck and twisted, carving a line into his flesh before being deflected. Thorvaldur’s eyes did not waver from the floating sword. Then the blade wove past his defenses and came down upon him.

  The rock troll reached up and caught the blade with his bare hand. At first Jack thought he’d made a mistake, but then he realized the troll had allowed the opening in order to draw the weapon close. Flames burst up the sword, burning the rock troll’s flesh. He scowled but did not release it.

  The great troll advanced to the doors of the fortress and plunged the struggling weapon into the wood. It trembled, shaking as it fought to withdraw. Thorvaldur spun a full circle, accelerating his weapon into a blur of steel, aiming for the stuck sword.

  The hammer at the end of Thorvaldur’s weapon smashed into Skorn’s blade. With a deafening crack Skorn’s blade snapped in half. The crash of metal reverberated throughout the fortress, sending a hush through the cultists as the hilt of the broken blade bounced into the courtyard. It clattered across the courtyard stones and lay still.

  Thorvaldur’s roar of triumph raised the hair on Jack’s neck, and brought another smile to his lips. “How can you not love rock trolls?” he said aloud.

  The snap of the blade had broken the cultist’s spirit. They began to flee before the trolls and Thorvaldur’s arrival turned it into a rout. As cultists scattered below, Jack spotted Gallow attempting to rally their forces, but saw no sign of Skorn. Realizing he’d wasted enough time, Jack turned upward and ascended into Margauth.

  The sounds of battle faded as Jack rushed through empty corridors, searching for his friends. He reached the amphitheatre in the mouth of the fortress and passed it by. Ascending higher in the citadel, he reached the rooms behind Margauth’s eyes.

  The chamber behind the citadel’s left eye had been built to accommodate a commanding officer. Large stone tables stood about the room, their surfaces shaped with magic to represent maps of the surrounding region. Jack spotted several inaccuracies and realized it had not been changed since the castle’s construction.

  Ancient weapons adorned the walls, their blades cankered with rust. Some had been removed to allow room for parchment and sketches, the details of which reminded Jack of Skorn’s work before he’d left the Thieves Guild.

  Jack wove his way through the chamber to the enormous window. Shaped like a giant eye, the window looked down on the courtyard far below. Most of it was obscured by the billowing snow, and he squinted to see the raging battle. Through the storm Jack could see that Gallow had managed to rally the cultists and the battle had intensified.

  “I hoped you would not come.”

  Jack whirled to find Lorelia standing in a doorway at the side of the chamber. Beyond her he caught a glimpse of Margauth’s other eye and a matching chamber. The glint of cages was just visible around the corner.

  “Beauty?” he called.

  Chains clanked and her face appeared between the bars. “We’re all here!”

  Lorelia’s features clouded with anger and she started forward, her magic gathering in her hand. “I hate you, Jack.”

  “No,” Jack said. “You don’t.”

  Light exploded from her hands, charring a jagged line in the wall as Jack slipped to the side. He pulled a throwing knife and sent it spinning toward her but she glided to the side and darted forward.

  Magic erupted from her fingers, filling the room with images of her, all bombarding him with light. Jack dived under one of the tables, but caught the edge before appearing on the opposite side. A current of light shattered the rock where he would have appeared and he tracked its source. Pulling himself back the way he came, he leapt to the top of another table and threw another knife.

  The blade spun to one of the Lorelias and sliced across her arm. She cried out as it cut her skin and the other images flickered. Then she turned her pain into rage, unleashing an unrelenting torrent of power at him.

  Jack leapt from table to table, rebounding throughout the room as the tables shattered. The light in the room dimmed as Lorelia drew on it, allowing Jack to launch his shadowhook into the ceiling. He used it to swing to the side of the room and kick off, coming down close to Lorelia.

  “I’m going to kill you, Jack!” she cried, and cast a blade of solid light from her magic. Then she advanced upon him.

  Jack slipped his dagger from his back and struck back. The weapons clashed amidst a shower of sparks but she drove into him with surprising strength. Distantly he was aware of his friends shouting in the background, but it took his whole focus to keep from being impaled by Lorelia’s searing blade.

  His shoulders bounced against the wall and he slid to the side. The lightblade plunged into the stone, sinking into it as if it were made of cheese. Before she could withdraw the weapon, Jack caught her wrist and bent it to the side, forcing her to release the blade. Then he flipped his dagger along his forearm and struck the hilt across her skull, sending her to the floor. He grabbed a length of curtain hang
ing from the window and tied her wrists she was stunned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I can’t give you what you want, but you’ll always be my friend.”

  He reached up and caught the hilt of the searing blade. Before it could dissipate he leapt into the neighboring room and sliced across the bars. A second strike near the bottom and the bars tumbled to the floor.

  “Your freedom has been granted,” he said.

  Relief and amusement flashed across their faces but Beauty’s smile held his gaze. “It’s about time,” she said.

  Her hand lingered on his as she stepped out of the cage, her posture leaning closer than was necessary. Jack saw the yearning in her eyes and inclined his head to let her know he felt the same. Then Roarthin coughed.

  “We’re out of the cage, but not free.”

  Jack turned to him. “Are you always this impatient?”

  “Only when the devil is here,” Thalidon said, stepping out of the cell. “But what about the cure to the poison?”

  “You mean these?” Jack withdrew the vials he’d pickpocketed from Skorn while he was focused on the trolls. He smirked and handed them out. “For a thief guildmaster I expected better of him.”

  They wasted no time in drinking the vials. Then Thalidon grinned. “I don’t suppose you have a plan to get us out?”

  “Have I not proven myself yet?” Jack asked, indignant.

  He reached to a hidden pouch at his back and pulled a small pocket mirror into view. Smirking, he pointed it at the wall. Then he thumbed the rune on the back, causing the glass to turn liquid and flow to the floor. Like a stream it trickled to the wall and climbed upward, turning into a mirror against the stone.

  “Is that a Gate?” Beauty asked.

  “A beacon wasn’t the only thing I took from the Vault of the Eternals,” Jack said. “This will take you to the guildhall in the Evermist.”

  “I could kiss you,” Ursana said and without hesitation dived through the Gate.

  Gordon slapped Jack on the shoulder and strode after her, a wide grin on his features. “I always thought your arrogance would get you killed. Who knew it would be the thing that saved us?”

  “An honorable thief,” Roarthin said, following Gordon. “I didn’t think they existed.” He paused on the threshold and looked back, nodding in gratitude. Then he disappeared from view.

  Thalidon followed his brother but Jack called out to him. “I expect something special for this,” he said to the dwarven smith.

  “I’ll consider it,” he said with a booming laugh, and then slipped through the Gate.

  Beauty turned to him. “You really are amazing, you know that?”

  “I do.”

  She laughed lightly and stepped to the Gate. Then her eyes flicked over Jack’s shoulder and her features turned to shock. Recognizing the warning, Jack pushed her through the portal just as a throwing knife struck the mirror, shattering the magic. He whirled to find Lorelia and Skorn standing in the doorway.

  Black rage rippled across Skorn’s blood spattered features. “I’ll have your head mounted on my wall before this is over.”

  “Then you could see my smile every day.”

  “You arrogant fool,” he snarled. “I almost want you to live so you can witness the arrival of my people.”

  Jack pocketed the small mirror. Even if it worked he did not have time to activate it without letting Skorn follow him. Then he casually drew his dagger and activated his crossbow with a flick of his wrist.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Did you enjoy your prison? I understand time is different for you, but a forty-thousand-year sentence . . .” He whistled.

  Skorn pulled his old sword from his back and started forward. “I’ll take the beacon from your corpse.”

  Jack laughed. “It appears your vaunted sword was no match for a rock troll.”

  Skorn didn’t respond and continued to advance upon Jack. Seeing the murder in his eyes, Jack raised his crossbow and fired, but Skorn jerked to the side and the bolt missed. Then he darted forward and swung his sword at Jack.

  Jack parried but the next blow came just as fast. He’d hoped that anger would drive the man to error but Skorn kept up a relentless assault, punishing Jack for the smallest mistake. Demonstrating the same inhuman speed he had at their first duel, Skorn obliterated Jack’s defenses and sent his dagger spinning away. Then he caught his throat and lifted him off the floor. With a savage throw he sent Jack hurtling across the room.

  Jack slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor. The sounds of Skorn’s approaching steps echoed in his ears as he struggled to his knees. Spotting the dagger nearby, he reached for it and stood. Halfway across the room Skorn reared back and launched his sword at Jack.

  “Goodbye, Jack.”

  Jack struggled to move but his body did not respond in time. He growled as the blade left Skorn’s fingers and flew toward him. The steel glittered in the light as it soared to his heart—but Lorelia stepped into it, the blade plunging into her chest.

  She crashed into him and they both went down. He struggled to his knees and saw at a glance that nothing could be done. Anger rippled across his frame as he saw the damage. He reached out and hand her hand.

  “Why would you save my life?”

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, her voice fading. “I thought you could love me if I wasn’t damaged.”

  “You were my friend,” Jack growled. “I don’t care what you look like.”

  “Then forgive me,” she whispered. “And remember me as a friend.”

  Her magic faded, revealing her scarred and broken features. Anger, sadness, and regret rippled through Jack as he met her gaze. Then he leaned down and murmured to her.

  “Your courage made you attractive,” he said. “And you’ve never been more beautiful.”

  She smiled at him, and it was an expression unrestrained by fear or doubt. She reached up and fumbled with the amulet at her throat. Pulling it from her neck, she slipped it into his hands with trembling fingers.

  “Goodbye, my friend . . .”

  The light dimmed from her eyes and her body sighed in death. He stared at her, the rage building within him. Then he gently placed her on the floor and rose to face Skorn. He stood where he’d thrown the blade, an expression of pleasure on his face.

  “How many will die before you give me what I seek?”

  “You want this?” Jack held the beacon aloft, and his voice rippled with fury. “You will never get it.”

  “Give me the beacon, Jack!”

  “Come and get it,” Jack snarled. Clutching the beacon in his arm, he whirled to the window. Before Skorn could react Jack dove into the blizzard and fell from view.

  Chapter 44: Defeated

  Jack plummeted down the icy face of Margauth. He sent his shadowhook into the wall but even with the storm it was too light outside. The shadowhook barely held, slowing his passage but not halting it. It did allow him to put his feet on the wall.

  He twisted his body and sprinted down the slope, leaping imperfections like they were stones on the ground. Seconds later he reached the mouth of Margauth and jumped. He caught a glimpse of the amphitheatre as he streaked past. Still sliding across on the cliff face, the shadowhook caught near one of the opening’s teeth, slowing him down and sending him bouncing off the cliff below Margauth’s jaw.

  He cast his shadowhook again, sending the ribbon of ink onto the cliff above. Sliding and scraping down the cliff he turned his attention on how to land without shattering every bone in his body. Spotting a snowdrift in the courtyard, he used the shadowhook to angle his path toward it. Then he gritted his teeth and braced for the impact.

  His body hit the snow and sank into it, sending a plume of white billowing into the sky. He sank all the way to the ground and struck the rock but the drift had sapped his momentum. He winced at the blow and then struggled to free himself from the drift. Then a large hand caught his cloak and lifted him free.

  He wiped snow from hi
s face to see Thorvaldur’s features swim into focus. Blood marred his body from a dozen wounds, and the tattoos that marked his kills were mostly covered by it. In spite of the damage the rock troll bore a smile on his features.

  “The battle is over.”

  Thorvaldur deposited Jack on a ground littered with dead cultists. Every troll had suffered injuries but none were fatal. They picked their way through the dead to join Thorvaldur.

  “And the assassin?” Jack asked.

  Korna grunted in amusement and wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Fled with the others. I do not think he enjoyed a true adversary.”

  “Then it’s time to depart,” Jack said.

  Jack strode toward the gates and the trolls fell into step behind him. As he passed through the doors of Margauth he dropped the beacon in the snow by the door. When he was a good distance from the fortress he turned back to it and waited.

  “What are you waiting for?” Thorvaldur asked.

  “It’s not over,” Jack replied.

  Then Skorn appeared in the gates and strode toward Jack. The rage on his features did not diminish at the sight of the trolls, even when they drew their weapons.

  “I will hunt you to every corner of Lumineia,” Skorn snarled. “I will not rest until those you value lie dead and the beacon is in my grasp. What you call a god could not stop me. No petty thief will do what Ero could not.”

  “I already did,” Jack said coldly. “But you were so focused on me you missed it.”

  He raised his crossbow and took careful aim. Skorn dodged out of the way but Jack did not follow his movements. Instead he aimed for the gates of Margauth, to the knife he’d plunged into the door at the start of the battle.

  Skorn whirled and spotted the beacon half buried in the snow. He leapt to it but Jack fired first. The bolt sped over Skorn shoulder and struck the hilt of the dagger—right on the trigger for the implosion hex.

  The implosion swallowed the beacon and ripped the wall apart, the ball of light expanding into the fortress. Skorn’s scream was lost in the deafening roar as the hex carved into stone, wood, rock, and corpse. It swelled into a sphere that engulfed Skorn. Then abruptly it came to a halt and began to retract, drawing everything it had touched inward.