by DB King
And he might even have a girlfriend. Maybe. Possibly.
As he rode the rickety box down the chain to the Northmund Estate, his new friends waved to him from the grounds. His new family, just as important as the one he’d left behind at the Archon Temple. He’d make both of them proud, no matter what.
Alec ran off to join the group, thoughts of the Academy already buzzing in his brain.
Chapter 25
EPILOGUE
Archmage Uriel Diamondspear regarded the two figures on the opposite side of his desk with a scornful expression. “We must be certain,” he said, tapping a finger near the top of an old scroll. The scroll was hundreds of years old, a relic from the Golden Age of Magic, and lately Uriel himself felt as aged as the weathered parchment. Threadbare, past its prime, a relic of a bygone era.
“I am certain,” Tanuin said. The elven ranger had his feet up on the desk again, a smug look on his face. One of these days he’d behave that way in front of the wrong person and regret it. “Completely, Uriel.”
“Eleira,” Uriel said, speaking the elf girl’s name. What a simple moniker for someone so complicated. “You are absolutely certain she’s a Leafwalker?”
Tanuin sat up, his boots hitting the floor. His gaze traveled from Uriel to Maimonides and back again. The gnome wore an intense expression, magnified by those absurd goggles he wore on his face. Uriel wished the man would take something, anything, seriously—starting with this meeting. But Maimonides was a creature of habit, and that habit involved never letting little things like the end of the world get in the way of his fun.
“The last of her kind, yes,” the elven ranger said. “It took me years to find her; she was living as a hunter with the Woodseeker Clan. None of them had the faintest idea what they had in their midst.” He shook his head. “A wolf in a flock of sheep!”
“I must ask you to repeat,” Uriel said, aware that there were certain rare bonds that allowed a man to lie once to a mage but no more. “She is the last of the Leafwalkers?”
Tanuin chuckled. “If I didn’t believe it at first, the past few weeks have confirmed it. She’s the real deal, Uriel. Just like the boy.”
Uriel sat back in his chair, satisfied. “Then she’ll be able to open the cache,” he said, making a steeple of his fingers.
Tanuin nodded. “She’s both a Leafwalker and a mage who can access the Greater Elements. I’ve confirmed the former myself, and the incident with Baldir proves she’s capable of the latter.”
Ah yes. The incident. If only noble Alec knew the truth. The forbidden door had been accessible to their pupils for a reason—Uriel and Maimonides had chosen that door specifically for them to pass through, when they inevitably disobeyed his instruction not to visit the House of Doors, as young, ambitious mages invariably would. He’d kept the secrets hidden in that realm close to his chest for far too long.
Uriel’s enemies thought they’d discovered his weaknesses in Baldir’s information. They didn’t realize they were playing right into his hands.
“And she’s been told what to do?” Uriel asked.
“She has,” Tanuin said, dismissing the question with a gesture. “She’ll steal the jewel. No worries.”
“Excellent,” Uriel said.
“One worry,” Maimonides interjected, sticking a bony finger into the air. “Alec.”
Both men stared at the gnome. “He’s head over heels for the girl,” Tanuin said, chuckling to himself. “You should have seen him when I left the two of them together at the House of Doors, Maimonides. I thought the poor lad’s head was going to pop right off—”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Maimonides said. For once, the gnome sounded serious. “Eleira understands the consequences of being caught stealing the jewel, but we haven’t brought Alec into this particular plot. I’ve spent much time with the boy over the past few weeks, and I’ve learned that above all else, he is noble—to a fault. Should he learn what Eleira intends—say, if their relationship deepens and the little elf decides to confide our mission in him—he won’t like it one bit. He may try to talk her out of it. He might even try to stop her.”
From the other side of the ornate desk, Archmage Uriel Diamondspear nodded. “And if he does, he might doom us all.”
“I must ask,” Maimonides said, plowing ahead. Uriel stifled a sigh—he could already tell where the gnome was going with this. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, though it was the first time the gnome had roped Tanuin into it as well. “Why not simply explain to Alec what we need? The boy is no fool—he understands the concept of the greater good. Do you really think he won’t listen to us, Uriel?”
Tanuin looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” the elven ranger agreed. “Alec’s an old friend. I’m a little surprised we haven’t brought him into the fold, to be honest. But I’m sure you have your reasons, Uriel.”
Uriel felt like burying his head in his hands. But he kept the regal, imperious bearing others expected him to have as the Archmage. The master of the House of Diamondspear had learned long ago that people see only what you allow them to see—so he always showed strength to the world. No matter what.
“You say your weeks spent with Alec have taught you about the boy,” Uriel said, shaking his head. “Clearly, they have not. I saw him leap into that Crypt, Maimonides. I’ve seen the things Alec will do when confronted with the choice between what is right and what is easy. He would be comfortable helping us steal the jewel, yes—but there’s no way we could hide from him what we plan to do with it.”
Both men’s eyes hardened.
“He would try to stop us,” Uriel said with a chuckle. “Of that I have no doubt. And having seen the lad’s magic, I have no desire to remove such a talent from the world. Do either of you?”
Just as he’d expected, both Tanuin and Maimonides shook their heads.
“Then let us hope,” the gnome said, “that he does not find out.”
“He won’t,” Uriel said. “He cannot. There is still much that Alec must accomplish before the Archon is done with all of us. Including him.”
“Indeed,” Tanuin said. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re taking the right approach, Uriel. As Alec’s friend, this is the best way forward—for his sake and the world. The boy has a talent that the world will need in the arduous years to come.” Tanuin laughed. “The fact that he bound that demoness is proof of that. I’m surprised she hasn’t shaken his fervor for Eleira. I was a little worried about that for a minute, but he really only seems to see her as a friend.” The elf ranger shook his head. “Weird friends, that boy.”
“I wonder if I could convince him to let me borrow her for an evening,” Maimonides said, rubbing his hands together. “Perhaps in exchange for an enchanted device or two. As long as I frame it as a research opportunity, the boy might be willing…”
“Fat chance,” Tanuin snorted. “She’d tell him before she went off with you, you old fool. Besides, her favorite food’s spiders. You know they kill their mates and eat them after they die, right?”
“It might be worth it,” Maimonides mused. “For the experience…”
Uriel sighed. “You’ll broker no such deal with the boy,” he said, putting his foot down. “And you most certainly will not speak of any of this foolishness within his earshot. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” Maimonides said, looking chastened. “I was merely joking.”
Uriel cracked his knuckles. In all their clandestine meetings, it was the universally agreed upon code for silence. The two men quieted, sitting up a bit straighter. Uriel only did this when he had important things to say.
“The next few months will be some of the most important of our lives,” the Archmage said. “Not merely for us, but for the world. What happens to Alec and Eleira will determine far more than the fate of the last Leafwalker and an orphan from the Archon Temple. It may very well determine whether the world remains filled with light, or falls to the Shadow. And I, for one, do not in
tend to go down without a fight.”
“Nor do I,” Tanuin said, putting his hand on the desk. After a moment, Maimonides added his agreement to the pile.
“So be it,” Uriel said, clasping their fingers with his own. The pact had been made between the three of them long ago—long before Alec passed through the doors of the Archon Temple, in fact. With their work, and a little bit of luck, humanity would pass through the worst of what was to come. Uriel Diamondspear had done terrible things to amass the power he needed to help Alec weather the storm, but as long as the weathering was completed, all would be worth it.
He only hoped Alec would never discover the extent of his machinations. The boy was honorable, after all, and there was no telling what trouble a truly honorable young man was capable of.
“Very well then,” Uriel said, adjourning the meeting. “Now, my dear friends—we have two young mages who require our well wishes before they set off to the Royal Academy. Shall we attend to them?”
End of Book 1
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Keep reading for a sample chapter from Thief’s Bounty: Dungeon of Evolution 1
Thief’s Bounty: Chapter 1
Kraken City slept uneasily. The great hulking metropolis squatted on the steep volcanic island like a sinister monster, packed with seething life from the lowest slum to the highest glass tower of the noble Overlords. Kraken City was many things to many different people. For Marcus, exile of the thieves guild, it was where he found his destiny.
Marcus the Exile was a young man, swift and as stealthy as a cat. He moved with light steps through the gloom that filled the tightly packed slum district, the lowest tier of the steep city. A thick sea fog had rolled in, settling over the stone buildings and creeping through the slum district’s narrow streets and filthy alleyways, filling every space with a warm, unhealthy, airless damp.
The thick night heat didn’t bother Marcus the Exile. He was used to it. He moved along through the shadows cast by the rough walls, making no more noise than the fog.
Tonight was the night. His night. The night he would begin his escape.
He was on his way toward the Middle Watch, a long, ragged line of stone wall and rough earthwork that divided the slums at the bottom of the city from the Merchants’ Town. Merchants’ Town occupied the climbing slopes above the level of the slum dwellers, and there the wealthy common folk of Kraken City lived. Merchants’ Town was the home of the artisans, the merchants, city traders, and ship’s captains, guildsmen, and all the others who lived what they called a respectable life. Their comfortable manses and well-stocked manufactories were prime targets for any thief or vagabond who could worm his way up from the levels of the slum district. For this reason, the barrier of Middle Watch was constantly patrolled by the City Guard.
Marcus came to a spot he knew well. A low building of poorly laid orange brick had enough hand-grips and footholds between the stones that a skilled and nimble man could climb to the roof easily enough. Marcus was both skilled and nimble, and his calloused hands found familiar holds as his toes in their soft leather boots pushed up off the ground. A breath of wind stirred his cloak and toyed with his raised hood. Above his black leather facemask, his red eyes glinted warily as he climbed.
In the blink of an eye, and silently, he maneuvered up onto the slick wooden tiles of the sloping roof and gazed out toward the Middle Watch.
The barrier was near, and the guards that patrolled it were not as wary as they should be. The Kraken City guards were notoriously corrupt, and they could be paid to turn a blind eye to a man slipping over the Middle Watch in the dead of night. Not tonight, though. Tonight’s mission was too important for Marcus to risk his face being remembered by a dishonest guard.
Tonight, Marcus was going to rob a Diremage.
He crouched in the shadows on the rooftop. His leathers were soft with years of wear, and made no sound as he moved deeper into the shade. In his belt-pouch, he kept a few supplies—dried meat, a little gold, some poison for emergencies. Hanging at his belt in a secure sheath was his plain workman’s dagger.
For years now, Marcus had lived in a state of constant watchfulness. He had started his life on the streets of Kraken City. For as long as he could remember he had run with a gang of rough kids, stealing, scamming, and living by his wits. As a baby, he’d been left on the wharf, with only a toy soldier and a bundle of old fishing nets to shield him from the elements—since then, Kraken City’s massive docklands had been father, mother, and teacher to him. The docklands were often a harsh tutor, but they offered many opportunities for a quick-witted youngster to make a dishonest living, and Marcus had taken every chance he had.
Kraken City occupied most of a substantial island that rose out of the sea and climbed up to a single high peak. The city covered most of the mountain slopes, but on the eastern shoreline the docklands dominated. Centered around two massive stone wharves, the docklands stretched out on either side, providing berths for every size and style of ship imaginable. Everything from the smallest fishing vessels to the gargantuan trade galleys and warships of Doran found a home at Kraken City’s docklands.
The goods that flowed through the docks were as many and as varied as the ships that carried them, and so the area around the docks had developed into a packed, expansive district of warehouses, taverns, workshops, administrative buildings, brothels, barracks, hiring houses, smokehouses, and every other building that could service the sailors, the ships, the traders, and the goods that were the lifeblood of Kraken City.
It was a fertile ground for a young boy to do his growing up. He learned to pick pockets, cut purses, run messages, and steal food from the many open shop fronts. Then, when he was about eight years old, Marcus had pickpocketed a member of the thieves guild. That had changed his life.
Instead of being beaten and chased off by his victim, the professional, a young man with quick blue eyes and a sleek head of bright silver hair, had taken the young amateur back to the guild. A child could not begin professional training until he was at least fifteen, but the guildmasters saw potential in the young Marcus, so they kept him. When he worked out that they would also provide two meals a day and a safe place to sleep, the young Marcus was more than happy to do as he was bid.
Nobody knew exactly how old Marcus was, but he remained at the guild as a child novice. He cleaned, ran errands, helped in the kitchens, and learned to read and write in the language of the Doran Kingdoms, in the bastard dialect of Kraken City, and the old tongue of the High Nobility. He remained within the grounds of the guild for a year before he was allowed out to run messages. Then, he became a trusted runner—quick and reliable, and honest if anything went wrong.
The masters watched him, noting his potential, educating him and nourishing his body with food and his mind with languages and new ideas. Because no one knew his age, he was considered a boy until hair began to grow on his face and his voice began to deepen. Then, his real training began.
Those were happy years. Sitting in the dark on the roof, Marcus couldn’t help but smile to think of those years, despite how things had ended up. He had been trained in a host of skills, some more deadly than others but all useful, depending on the mission. He’d learned to move as quietly as a shadow, lift weights like a Doran strongman, read and write like a poet, sing and play the harp and the pipes, and, of course, kill quickly and accurately with every weapon known to man.
By the time his body had become that of a young man, he had become proficient in the rapier, the quarter-staff, the straight-sword, the slingshot, and Kraken City’s favorite weapon combination: the net and spear. By the time he was obliged to either shave his face or choose to grow a beard, stealth had become second nature, and there was no better climber in all of the guild.
One da
y, he looked at his reflection in one of the big shiny brass plates in the kitchens, and instead of the boy who had been, he saw a young man of about seventeen looking back at him. Brown hair, a strong jaw with a respectable bit of dark beard. Prominent cheekbones, a high brow, and big eyes with irises of a startling bright red.
It was around that time that his master had decided the time was right for Marcus to graduate from the first stage of training. He was gifted with a level up in the guild, and granted three spells. These came in the form of brightly colored, sweet-tasting powders that Marcus had dissolved on his tongue. The first granted him the power to turn a lock by placing his hand over it and concentrating, and the second granted him a constant high level of stealth. This stealth ability could be enhanced for short bursts, making him almost impossible to detect unless someone looked straight at him. The third spell gave him the ability to detect and disarm lower-level traps and magical wards.
The spells did not mean he had reached journeyman status, but they meant he had graduated from Novice to Initiate. His masters were proud of him, and though he’d never made close friends with any of his fellow pupils at the guild, all was well. A promising career in the thieves guild had seemed to await him.
And that was when everything went wrong.
The bungled robbery had not been his fault, he knew, but he had taken the blame for it all the same. His partner on the exercise had messed up a simple stealth buff, creating a flash of light that woke a sleeping guardsman. They had escaped, but Marcus had been seen by the light of a candle. His buddy got away without consequence, but the guard knew Marcus from a tavern brawl that had happened the year before. The merchant whose house they had been robbing put a bounty on Marcus’s head.
He gritted his teeth in the dark as he watched a city guard standing at post atop the rough wall of Middle Watch. It had been the worst of luck. No member of the thieves guild could have a bounty on their head. The guild worked in the shadows, hiding in plain sight, but a bounty put all eyes on him—all eyes on the guild.
