Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “You’re playful,” he mutters through the side of his mouth.

  Linny refuses to answer, maintaining the kiss and leading him up the remaining steps. Stephen is barely aware of them leaving the stairwell and walking down a short, red-carpeted hallway. One of Linny’s arms leaves his neck, replaced by a flexible leg locking around his waist. He can hear the door open before Linny awkwardly hops into the room, forcing him to stumble along. She breaks the kiss to spin Stephen onto a soft, four-post bed where she greedily pounces on him.

  “Do you mind if I take the lead, dear knight?” Linny asks. She kisses his neck and undoes the buttons of his shirt. “I’m really impatient.”

  “I prefer to be in control, but I’m not sure how to get you out of that leather bodysuit. I’m afraid I’ll need your help with that when the time comes,” Stephen admits, his eyes rapidly fluttering from the intoxicating feel of her lips on his skin. “I’m more than content to let you do whatever you want.”

  “I love it when my knights are so compliant and docile,” Linny whispers as she removes his shirt and kisses her way down to his bellybutton. “It makes things so much easier.”

  “Lack of resistance gets you what you want,” Stephen says with a pleasure-filled groan.

  “Exactly, my darling knight,” Linny coos.

  She slips her fingers under his waistband and pulls the vial of gems out of his pants, popping the cork off with her thumb. Before Stephen can open his eyes, she pours the vibrant yellow gems onto his bare chest and hops off the bed. A surge of electricity arcs around his body as the gems react to the faint traces of lipstick Linny left all over Stephen’s skin. She is casually wiping the lipstick off her lips while Stephen shudders and steams in numbing pain. The electricity gradually dies down, leaving Stephen unconscious and covered in a yellow mist.

  “Maybe I should have had some fun first,” Linny mutters as she admires the attractive mercenary. With a small shrug, she gets to work going through his pockets and taking anything of value.

  “You seem to be avoiding the sword,” says a voice from the other side of the room. “It looks very valuable.”

  Linny glances up to see a bald man in a white shirt and dark blue breeches sitting on the windowsill. “It’s also unique. I could pawn the thing for a lot of money and leave a trail for this guy or the guards to follow. I prefer to take only pure currency and items that can’t be traced back to me. Besides, the sword is the key to this man’s livelihood and he treated me nicely. I’d feel bad taking it from him. He made me feel like a queen even if it was only for just over an hour.”

  “You’re a sentimental woman,” the man states. He moves to get off the windowsill when a knife thrums into the wooden plank between his legs. “Though, it appears you’re not a trusting woman. My name is Patrick Snowfall.”

  “I never trust a man who refuses to knock,” she retorts with a grin. “Is it safe to assume I’ve attracted some guild attention?”

  “We both know that Hero’s Gate has no guild,” Patrick declares. He dislodges the knife from the windowsill and casually tosses it onto the bed. “I’m merely a-”

  “A curious passerby who just happened to be on the fourth story of a building peering into a room that was vacant until I rented it about an hour ago,” Linny interrupts, crossing her arms and leaning against one of the bedposts. “I know there’s a recently created guild, which took advantage of the chaos caused by the goblin swarm incident. I set off from Gaia for the easy pickings as well, but I was delayed. By the time I arrived, I heard the townsfolk talking about a guild. You know how hard it is for an independent thief to work in a guild city. So, I was hoping to get their attention and join, hence my week of showy heists.”

  “You sound like you don’t like guilds, so why would you want to join?” Patrick warily asks. He hops off the windowsill and takes a step toward Linny, who immediately brandishes a stiletto.

  “I have issues with the guild of Rodillen. They’re too political and their dues are more criminal than anything I do,” Linny answers, lazily spinning the weapon in her hand. “Now, there’s some appeal to joining a guild at the ground floor. It’ll be a lot easier to prove myself and get into a position where I influence the rules. I can get a cut of everyone’s loot if I play my cards right. At the very least, I can make a deal where the guild leaves me alone.”

  Patrick carefully moves to a chair and gestures for Linny to take a seat on the bed. She steps onto the soft bed and crosses her legs as she sits, her hand smoothly slipping to the hilt of Stephen’s rapier. The thieves stare at each other in silence, but Linny knows Patrick has the advantage. Eventually, Stephen will wake up and she will need to be far away from him when he does.

  “I’ve very little time for games,” she coldly announces, her golden eyes narrowing into predatory slits. “If this man wakes up and we’re still here, I’ll relieve you of your heel tendons and tell him that you’re my king. All of this was your idea and I was only following orders because you have my elderly mother hostage. He may still come after me, but I’m pretty sure he’ll spend some time on you first. You would do the same thing in my position.”

  “I’m afraid not. I would hate to harm a beauty such as yourself,” Patrick says with a charming grin. “Besides, our city has so few thieves of your skill that eliminating you would cost us dearly.”

  “So, why did you wait so long before approaching me? I thought I made a pretty big impact when I arrived,” Linny casually claims. She lets go of Stephen’s rapier and moves to the edge of the bed.

  “We did send a few agents to speak with you,” Patrick says, chuckling in genuine amusement. “They were the priests of Durag who you robbed two days ago after they invited you to their table for drinks. They were supposed to ease into the conversation with you, but you drugged and robbed them before they could reveal their identities. That certainly caught the interest of our founder, but he wished to observe you a bit longer.”

  “I’d love to meet this founder,” Linny happily whispers. She holds out her arm and Flitter swoops through the window, landing on her out-stretched limb.

  Patrick rises to his feet and extends his hand toward the elf maiden. “He would very much love to meet you too, my queen.”

  *****

  Linny nervously stares at the charred remains of a Duragian temple while Patrick patiently waits in the doorway. All of the windows are smashed and a sheet of rusty metal has been placed at the entrance to act as a simple door. From outside, the young elf can see broken furniture splattered with dried blood. She cautiously sticks her head inside the building, barely surprised that there is nothing left of the roof. After getting her fill of examining the decimated structure, Linny smiles at Patrick.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she says with a chuckle. “A guild using an old temple as a hideout? You guys are either very brave or very stupid.”

  “If you think the Durag priests will return to clean us out then you’ve nothing to fear,” Patrick assures her. He takes Linny by the hand and guides her into the temple, feeling her resist slightly. “This temple was razed by a magical fire and abandoned for a better location. Recently, it was damaged and corrupted even more by the goblins. The priests of Durag cleansed the remaining structure, but they consider this place cursed.”

  “I still don’t like using holy land as a hideout,” Linny admits. She strokes the head of Flitter who calmly sits on her shoulder. “Bad things happen to those who mess with holy ground. It doesn’t matter if the land is cursed or not.”

  “I agree, which is why we only use this building as an entrance.”

  Patrick weaves his way to the eastern corner and moves several large pieces of broken pottery, his hands moving in the air as if untying strings. He knocks on the floor with the heel of his boot until he hears a hollow bang. Slowly sliding his foot over the stone floor, Patrick grins as a trapdoor springs open on silent hinges. He gestures for Linny to come closer and pushes her into the dark tunnel as soon as she is with
in reach. Patrick waits for a few seconds to let Linny get ahead before dropping into the welcoming shadows. He can feel the wind from the trapdoor snapping shut behind him. The thin strings around his hands pull the magically hardened pottery back into place until he skillfully unravels himself.

  Linny hugs Flitter to her chest as they travel down the smooth slide. Faint dots of light are scattered along the walls becoming warped streaks as she builds up speed. The thief struggles to pay attention to the direction she is going, but she is lost after several sudden turns and dizzying spirals. Linny’s eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness when she bursts into a vast cavern, the sudden light briefly blinding her. She barely makes out the sight of a waterfall and a small grove at its base before she plunges back into the shadows.

  “Are you having fun?” Patrick asks from behind her.

  “I love the ride!” Linny shouts back, wondering how he caught up to her when she had a pretty big head start. “Though, my pet is losing his feathers. I trust this won’t take much longer because I don’t want him to go bald.”

  Linny’s anxiety grows when Patrick responds with hearty laughter. She looks ahead to see that the tunnel shows no sign of ending and it has been several minutes since a sharp turn or spiral. The straight run strikes her as odd considering the thieves are only active within the city. A hideout so far outside of Hero’s Gate or so far underneath would not be practical for quick escapes and returns. A thief would waste most of his time traveling to and from the hideout. As Linny pays more attention to her thoughts than her surroundings, she realizes that she has a little trouble moving her limbs and there is a tightness around her chest. She focuses on her body and coils of rope appear around her, an intricate knot pressed against her throat where she cannot pull at it with her teeth.

  “You bastards!” Linny screams. She shatters the illusionary world around her to find herself tied to a chair in the middle of a well-lit cavern. She can see small piles of treasure scattered about the mix-matched tables and chairs. A heavily dented, fully stocked bar with a cracked mirror has been set up between two pillars of stone. Torch sconces have been set up around the cavern to give the thieves a comfortable amount of light and warmth. Making a quick count, Linny guesses there are twenty thieves surrounding her.

  “Who are you?” asks Patrick as he steps out of the shadows behind her. He reaches over the struggling elf to slash Flitter with a dagger. The illusionary barn owl shrieks as it vanishes into thin air.

  “My name is Linny. I-” she begins to say before Patrick punches her upside the head. He is about to hit her again when a dagger streaks out of the shadows. The weapon sinks into Patrick’s chest and his lifeless body drops at Linny’s feet. She tries to shuffle and hop her chair away from the corpse, but falls over with an echoing clatter.

  “Nobody will lay a hand on her,” a male voice whispers from the darkness. “Marti will get this woman off the floor and continue the questioning.”

  A brown-haired girl wearing the dirty clothes of a beggar nervously inches toward Linny and pulls the chair up to its legs. “Please, tell us who you really are. Our founder knows you’re not who you say you are.”

  “Are you going to kill me if I lie again?” Linny asks. A long, curved fork flies out of the shadows, tearing the blonde wig off her head. As the remains of a silk hair net falls to the ground, a cascade of blue tresses rolls down Linny’s back and shoulders.

  “You’re the gypsy who recently arrived in the city,” Marti states, terrified realization on her face. “Our founder said you’d be trouble.”

  “Your founder has no idea how much trouble I can be,” Sari mutters as she pushes against her bonds. She angrily kicks at Marti and falls back to the floor with teeth-jarring impact. “How long have you been onto me?”

  “Why are you with the warrior and the caster who were brought here to stop us?” Marti asks, ignoring Sari’s question. A shifting noise from the shadows makes the thief jump and yelp. “Are they your friends, your lovers, your captors? Our founder demands to know your relationship with them.”

  “Then he can step out of the shadows and talk to me himself,” Sari angrily snaps.

  “You are strong and feisty given your predicament,” the voice laughs, coming from Sari’s right. “I will talk to you in private when I feel the time is right and it is proven that you are not a danger to me. Now, answer the question or I will kill Marti.”

  Sari looks at Marti, who has gone pale, and realizes the mysterious founder is not bluffing. “I’m traveling with the warrior and the caster because they’re strong. The caster is rather gullible, so she makes me magical gear that helps me with heists. I tell her the items are necessary for me to be a stronger ally. The warrior is a useful bodyguard and . . . decent sleeping buddy. It helps that he’s a Callindor, so I get special treatment simply by being seen with him. It’s all an elaborate game to increase my chance of survival. All of you would do the same if given the opportunity, even the young man in the shadows.”

  “I wish I could tell if you were lying or not, gypsy,” the founder admits, his voice a mix of amusement and frustration. “All of us are skilled in deceit, but we are susceptible to it if our guard is down. A creature born into a world of guile and cunning, such as yourself, would be a dangerous opponent in a game of lies. So, what do you think we should do with you?”

  “I have no idea,” Sari declares with a wide yawn. “My plan was to infiltrate your guild and gain some influence. I can’t stay with my patsies for too long or they’ll get suspicious. So, I thought a new guild would be a good home for a while. If I didn’t like the way you people worked, I’d take what I need and move on to another city.”

  “Is that no longer an option?” Marti asks, feeling waves of tension from the shadows. “I’m sorry if I spoke out of line, founder.”

  “You’re fine, Marti,” Sari answers, getting to her feet. The ropes fall away from her body and she mockingly waves a dagger in the direction of the founder’s voice. “I get the feeling I wouldn’t fit in with your organization. The man in charge is obviously obsessed with control, so I can only imagine the rules he will instate. I’m not a big fan of strict rules when it comes to thievery. I firmly believe that a thief needs to be flexible and adaptable. Otherwise, they’re nothing more than mindless drones feeding their less talented rulers.”

  “I think you are underestimating us,” the voice claims with a subtle quiver of anger. “You are outnumbered and in our hideout. We request that you show us some respect.”

  “You don’t sound very convincing, founder,” Sari states. She steps back as Marti desperately lunges at her with a dirk. Sari spins away, forgetting that she no longer has her skirts to act as a colorful distraction. Marti is almost on top of her when she leans away from the dirk and sticks out her arm. With Sari’s immovability power, Marti feels like she has slammed into a solid wall and she crumples to the ground. With fluid grace, Sari sweeps her arm to catch a dagger hurtling toward the unconscious thief.

  “Are you going to kill everyone who attacks me? Is this some psychotic attempt to impress me?” Sari asks, juggling the finely-crafted dagger. “Well, I’m not that kind of girl. I prefer a good drink and decent food over someone killing to protect me. If I was really in danger I wouldn’t think twice about you, but this dagger-throwing seems to be a kneejerk reaction. You’re genuinely protective of me.”

  An awkward silence fills the cavern and the thieves become twitchy in the tense atmosphere. Sari gets the feeling they have sensed this type of silence from their founder before. It is a cold, angry void that pokes and prods her body, searching for a way into her heart and soul. Yet, she can also feel a trace of warmth and comfort beneath the rage ebbing from the shadows. She licks her lips in nervous excitement and scans the shadows for movement

  “Everyone should leave!” the voice demands, echoing throughout the cavern as the fires dim. “Sari and I have some things to discuss.”

  “I’d be surprised that you know my n
ame, but I’m sure you have your sources,” the gypsy casually says. She watches the thieves retreat into the shadows, the sounds of various trapdoors opening and closing in the distance.

  “You never told me how you figured out Linny was fake,” Sari mentions, straining her senses for any sign of the founder. “My disguise was perfect. It even fooled the people who knew what I was up to. There’s the possibility of information gathering, but I have a feeling there’s something more to your knowledge. Are you one of Tzefira’s mercenaries or a guard of Hero’s Gate? Are you Conrad Deviltongue?”

  A melodic laugh wafts out of the shadows, drawing Sari’s attention to her left. She ducks and spins around as a dagger comes at her from the right and nicks her shoulder. Drawing her own weapons, she creeps along the floor until she can slip behind a thick stalagmite. Whispering a spell, she creates an illusionary double that cautiously slinks into the open. The double watches the shadows and spins two simple daggers in its hands. As soon as a dagger strikes the double, it vanishes and Sari rolls out from behind her cover to hurl her weapon at the source of the attack. She is surprised to find a second dagger is already heading for her, forcing her to twist her body until the dagger grazes her inner thigh.

  “You are fast and cunning, Sari,” the founder says with pride. “I have never met a more skilled or beautiful gypsy. It pains me to learn you were exiled from your clan.”

  “I wasn’t exiled,” Sari responds, her voice growing a primal edge. “My clan was murdered by monsters and only I survived.”

  “Will you avenge them?”

  “With my freshly shed blood, I swore that I would destroy their killers.”