Safreon hissed at her to get her attention.
Still surprised and bemused by the vision, Hemlock followed him into the alley at a relaxed pace.
The alley was well traveled with layer upon layer of footprints in the sandy ground. Old barrels, bottles, furniture fragments and other debris were strewn about, giving it an unkempt appearance. Makeshift sheds rose one and sometimes two stories toward the three story rooftops above.
Safreon stopped at a doorway and without warning, kicked it in.
Both of them flowed into the building, entering a medium-sized chamber with once fine wood wainscoting, which was now faded and chipped from wear and tear.
"What, now just you wait! This is Badger territory!" exclaimed a young and dirty cutpurse. He had evidently had been aware of their approach because his saber was drawn as they entered the room. He was dressed in a dirty tan cloak with gray pants and wore a dark hood over his head which shadowed his features. The youth took two steps forward and his footfalls resulted in dull creaks from the old wooden floor beneath the faded carpet.
Safreon made a gesture of caution and grunted more than spoke a query in response, "The woman?"
The youth just smiled and then charged with what he intended to be a bold attack.
Safreon parried the boy’s downward thrust with his quickly drawn short sword and then stabbed the thief in the solar plexus as he embraced him and took the boy’s charge.
Safreon threw the body down onto the carpet and muttered an epithet under his breath as Hemlock moved to a door across the room.
She listened and heard guttural and reveling voices within. She nodded to Safreon, who was watching for her reaction. He approached behind her and kicked the door in.
Hemlock was through the opening first and burst into another fine, but similarly decayed room. It was a three story entry hall with a marble floor and a broken sweeping staircase. Rope ladders hung from an upper banister to compensate for the stair. Burn marks were in evidence on the stairs, walls and floor. Evidently some conflict had occurred here at one time or another.
The female citizen whom Hemlock and Safreon had been seeking was bound at the wrists from a chain that hung from the ceiling three floors above. She was partially unclothed and still did not struggle.
Three men surrounded her, wearing opulent clothes. One stepped forward, looking familiar in a black robe, although the hood was down now and the robe worn open.
Evidently, this was the man that they had followed. The open robe revealed that the man wore an ostentatious outfit underneath: he had a gray jacket on with burgundy lapels which were accented with golden buttons. The jacket and the fine white shirt underneath were unbuttoned almost down to the man’s midsection, showing his chiseled abdomen. The abdominal muscles were tinged with a light gray hair, however; he was clearly advanced well into middle age. His face had the look of nobility, but was marred by several scars. He wore a flamboyant, waxed mustache which was turned up at the tips. Thigh-high leather boots and a blue sash buckled with a gold accent completed his appearance, which displayed all of the braggadocio that Hemlock would have expected from a Thieves Guild member.
"Safreon, is that you?" the mustachioed man in the robe said with a swagger. The scent of rum was in the air.
Before Safreon could answer, the man noticed the body of the young cutpurse that Safreon had slain in the adjacent room. His features hardened.
The man glanced back at Safreon. "Why, you’ve killed my nephew. He was a fine boy – but headstrong. I can see his foolishness cost him dearly in the end. Still, it was not a just end for him, for he was defending Badger territory." He stressed the word Badger with spittle flying out of his mouth in anger.
Hemlock fanned out into the room. The other two men eyed her with a mixture of carnal lust and bloodlust.
Safreon spoke, "Greybreech, you just openly kidnapped a Citizen in the market. I had to intervene."
The man had regained a calm composure, but Safreon’s statement enraged him again. "This …wench is the daughter of a man that owes me and refuses to pay. Thus I am taking my payment in other ways." At this the other two men laughed harshly.
Safreon responded, "Release her into my custody. I’ll return her to the man and I’ll see that you get your money."
"Oh no, it’s gone beyond that here already," the man responded. "You’ve killed Herbert and that must be answered for. Aye, answered in blood."
"Graybreech, I will lay gold down against his life. It is all I can do now. He charged me foolishly. Listen to reason," pleaded Safreon.
Hemlock noticed that a large chest lay open behind the two ruffians. Inside it she saw the glint of gold.
"I think she’s seen our baubles," said one of the ruffians, noticing Hemlock’s stare.
"Do you see that, Safreon?" replied Graybreech angrily, pointing at the chest. "Does it look like I need your gold against Herbert’s life?" Graybreech drew his rapier and the ruffians followed suit.
"Don’t be a fool, Graybreech!" hissed Safreon.
"What is this?" screeched Graybreech. "Does the mighty Safreon and his girl think they can best me and my two best men? Has your head finally gotten too big? You’ve been a thorn in my side for years now. I’ll be glad to finally be rid of ya."
Graybreech began to circle Safreon and the two men fanned out and approached Hemlock.
"That’s no ordinary girl," warned Safreon.
"We’ll see," replied Graybreech, with a thrust of his rapier.
Safreon grunted and dodged the attack and then another, seeming somewhat overmatched against the quick Graybreech and his thrusting rapier.
Hemlock dodged two thrusts from her assailants and then parried another with her saber. These thieves, too, were accomplished fighters–among the best that Hemlock had ever faced.
As they fought her, she began to feel something growing within her. She struggled against it at first, trying to keep her mind focused on the nuances of the combat. She recalled her vision and she let her mind relax just for a moment, to see what this force or rhythm was that seemed to be overcoming her.
The two men were recovering from savage thrusts that had left them unbalanced. Hemlock instinctively began to draw her saber into her torso in a spinning motion, but her mind became alarmed at the exotic move, and she cut the motion short.
One of the men thrust in return and she ducked a split second too late and took a flesh wound on her back as a result. She cried out in pain.
"Hemlock!" cried Safreon as he fought on the defensive against Graybreech.
Hemlock recovered her composure as the men circled her again, making catcalls. Again she attempted to rest her mind and let her instincts take over.
The two men thrust again in unison and this time she didn’t hesitate when the strange sensation overcame her and her reflexes took over. Her body tensed and jumped to the side while her arm swung in a wide arc and her saber crashed into the forehead of one of her attackers, rendering his features inhuman and reducing him to a gurgling pile on the floor.
As the other man reacted with a moment of shock, Hemlock threw herself along the floor and sliced the man’s thigh, sending him heavily to the floor where she dispatched him without hesitation.
Graybreech seemed to be tiring as Hemlock saw him take stock of the situation.
"Seems like your whelp has bested my men and now I am bested," Graybreech stated while pressing his attack with a wild vigor.
"Aye," responded Safreon as he leapt a low thrust by Graybreech and delivered a heavy blow directly to the Thief’s face.
Graybreech crumpled to the floor and was motionless. He appeared to still live, however.
"What should we do with him?" asked Hemlock as she looked around the room for signs of reinforcements.
"He won’t trouble us for several hours," said Safreon. "It’s best to leave him alive. He’s more sensible than most Thieves and likely better to deal with than his replacement would be, despite this altercation."
"What of the gold?" Hemlock asked boldly.
"Aye, what of the gold?" responded Safreon. "We have to have money to survive–I recognize that. This is an opportunity to fill our coffers and we should probably take advantage."
They approached the chest. Hemlock drew in a sharp breath, there had to be thousands of gold pieces in there!
"This is more money than an Elite would have!" cried Hemlock.
Safreon shushed her as the Elite Woman who had been kidnapped began to stir and struggle against the chains.
"Fill your purses while I tend to her," Safreon instructed.
Hemlock began to greedily do just that as Safreon picked the lock on the shackles that held the Woman. She was in shock, but seemed coherent enough to move to safety.
There was an attempt to open the front door of the House then, followed by cries and a pounding at the door when the lock held.
"Quickly, we’ll exit the way we came," cried Safreon, guiding the Woman through the door.
Once they got inside, Safreon dragged a desk in front of the door to the entry hall to bar it. He motioned for Hemlock to guard the outside door.
"Stay here!" commanded Safreon and the dazed Citizen seemed to understand.
Hemlock and Safreon stepped out into the alley, tensed and expecting an ambush.
The entire alley was full of thieves. Easily two score of them.
Knives and swords were drawn then, and the afternoon Sun caught their many reflections. The menace in the air was palpable. These wretched souls, now assembled, seemed to exist in some union of malice and harmful intent. They closed in on the pair slowly, with some taking to nearby rooftops, some climbing walls, some retreating to the shadows, and some moving forward in small, agile motions.
Hemlock retreated a step into the doorway and the aggressors seemed to become emboldened at that movement. But in a flash she returned, and her purpose became clear. She had retrieved the saber from the fallen youth and now held it in her right hand in addition to her own in her left. The lesser among the thieves snickered and jeered in response. The greater and wiser took pause, but the advance continued nonetheless.
And then the attack started, furiously, like the crash of a wave against the rocks. First, many daggers were thrown. Hemlock deflected them all with her sabers while Safreon deflected several, dodged several more, but took one dagger in his left arm.
Next came a wave of thrusting rapiers from all heights and angles. Safreon bore this assault first, and seemed to move like a tiger from victim to victim as he parried attacks, clove limbs and still managed to grapple and throw with his wounded left arm.
When Hemlock entered the fray next, it was like a shockwave hit the thieves. Letting her mind rest like she had in the house fight, she tore through their ranks in a perfectly orchestrated ballet of twin steel-wielding death.
Her strikes were precisely timed and each motion was effortlessly predetermined. Throats, shoulders, eye sockets, groins–all were rent in equal measure by her twin blades, which moved at a speed that was almost indiscernible. Soon the cheap Thieves' saber had broken at a point halfway down the blade, but it slowed Hemlock little. The alley soon resembled some twisted and macabre fountain show as arterial wounds filled the thoroughfare with crimson sprays.
After a time, the remaining thieves had the good sense to run away. Judging from the dead, Hemlock concluded the survivors were reduced to one tenth of their original numbers.
Safreon spit a piece of flesh out of his mouth onto the sandy ground as he and Hemlock stood wiping the carnage of the fight from their bodies and clothes. Hemlock had to move carefully among the hewn limbs and pools of blood that surrounded her.
The Citizen who had been rescued emerged from the house, fresh vomit in the corners of her mouth. The scene was apparently too much for her and once she cleared the alley, she stumbled into the crowd in shock as many around her marked her bloody footprints and pointed to the alley.
"We must be gone now," Safreon said.
Hemlock did not answer but leapt up onto the low roof of a shed nearby. Safreon joined her and soon they regained the rooftops and made their way away from the carnage with shouts and voices behind them marking the discovery of the battlefield.
They found an old barrel filled with rain water on one of the roofs and cleansed themselves. Sometime later, they regained their original perch on the old Church roof.
They divided the gold and jewels that Hemlock had been able to carry between them. Hemlock was giddy but she tried to contain herself for Safreon's sake.
She knew that she had never been tested against that many foes. Now she knew more about herself, and the revelation seemed to be that she had no equal in the Warrens except for Safreon. In fact, some twenty had stood against her and she had bested them all with minimal effort. And now she had money: more money than she had ever seen.
Safreon began a toneless explanation. "This will have to hold you over for quite a while. Our paydays do not come often. Be judicious. Give alms to the poor. Get yourself a secluded flat. Your comings and goings should be your own business and no other’s. Do not indulge in finery–the people will not respect that. All will know what you have done but you must never acknowledge it. Mark these words or our association will end."
Hemlock turned to make some small merriment, but Safreon was leaving. She watched him move away across the adjacent roof for a time and considered his words, but the gold in her pocket excited her mind with many times the force with which it weighed down her pockets.
With an air of barely contained jubilation, she descended to the market to buy food for her and her sister. Tonight they would eat well. Safreon would have to understand that small gesture for the sake of her family.
Chapter Ten
The four wanderers from the City soon reached the foot of the nearby hill which Safreon and Gwineval had chosen to climb. They encountered some marshes at the base which they had to navigate amidst the din of frogs and insects. They were bothered by small clouds of flies which sought to bite them and required regular swatting to keep at bay.
Soon they passed through the marshes, only having to enter the water outright in one spot; they waded across a deep stream which had stretched as far as they could see in either direction, discouraging any attempt to walk around it. Safreon had carried Merit overhead while Gwineval took the opportunity to bathe in the ochre water and seemed to take pleasure and refreshment in it.
After they had traversed the marsh, they began to climb at a slight incline and they were engulfed by the forest canopy. Makeshift paths were found among the roots of larger trees–almost serving as natural stairs in some portions of the ascent. They periodically encountered stone outcroppings which formed natural walls that sometimes could be avoided and sometimes required climbing.
The ascent became steeper and their legs began to labor. Hemlock offered to carry Merit for a time but Safreon and Gwineval declined her offer. She was somewhat offended by their refusal, but decided to keep that to herself and let them deal with the burden if that was their preference.
In some places, the roots of great fallen trees had formed shadowy, cave-like openings in the earth. These they avoided, for Hemlock mentioned that the spider creature that she had encountered had emerged from a similar opening.
Soon they reached a shallow stream, which they crossed with care because the rocky bottom was very slippery. The trees became thicker and rocky outcroppings became more common. They had to climb up small rock faces more frequently now and they could see a hint of a commanding view of the valley below them. Hemlock mentioned climbing a tree to reconnoiter, but Safreon and Gwineval preferred to continue toward the top of the hill where they anticipated an uninterrupted view of the surroundings and the valley below.
They had been climbing for roughly an hour when they emerged onto an expansive rocky summit. They quickly noted something odd. In the center of the summit was a large obelisk and there was a strong feeling of magical power which seemed
to move through their bodies like a vibration.
"What is that?" asked Hemlock.
Safreon turned to Gwineval, whose face wore an expression of surprise, dismay and complicity at the same time. These emotions looked a bit odd playing out over serpentine features, but they were clear nonetheless.
Gwineval looked back and forth at Hemlock and Safreon and he carefully placed Merit on the ground before responding.
"I’m not exactly sure," hissed Gwineval, "it does seem to bear the aura of Wizard Guild magic."
Their gazes were drawn back to the Obelisk. It was an unearthly tone of black. It had the form of a flat slab that was smooth and solid on one side with an edge that traced a graceful curve, while in contrast, the other edge was brutally jagged and was formed of unfinished stone.
As their eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, they discerned movement in the air above the obelisk. Small wisps of light, scarcely visible, but leaving trails of gray luminescence in their wake, were being drawn down from the air and into the stone in a great sweeping spiral. As the wisps reached the Obelisk, the latter seemed to hum and surge with power and the wisps did not emerge.
The wanderers were all transfixed at the sight, for it was spectacular; but Hemlock felt she was witnessing something terrible. She sensed a life-force in the wisps and she had an intuition that the magic of the Obelisk was devouring that life. She glanced at Safreon and Gwineval; they both wore dark looks on their faces. Hemlock guessed that they had drawn similar conclusions to hers.
Hemlock concentrated on the Obelisk, using her unique sensory abilities to gauge the magical forces in play within it. There was a strong force of attraction and peace which emanated from the smooth side of the obelisk. But on the jagged side there was a weaker or perhaps a hidden power. This hidden power was one of torment, subjugation and exploitation. The attractive force felt like Wizard Guild magic to Hemlock. It was somehow ordered, as it manifested in all of her senses. She sensed a vast lattice of interwoven spells, each unique to its caster, but cast according to an overarching structure. She heard it almost like a chorus of wind chimes in near perfect harmony. She tasted it like many complementary flavors.
Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) Page 13
