THE RELIC GUILD (and other stories) Updated regularly.

FORTY YEARS EARLIER: The Relic Guild (part 2)

Marney pulled her coat tighter around her body. Her breath frosted in the air. The night was fresh, and the sky was clear and bright now Silver Moon had outshone the humid red glow of Ruby Moon. She stood half way down a narrow and deserted side lane in the heart of the east side of town, facing a small and crooked tavern called Chaney's Den. It was squashed into a long line of terraced residential houses and, although a faint glow came from behind the grime-smeared windows, there was no sign of life inside. It was a sad and unwelcoming sort of place.

'Are you frightened?' asked Denton.

Marney looked at the tall and burly man standing beside her, and she shook her head.

'Good,' he said with a wink. 'Then neither am I.'

She managed a nervous smile.

Pushing eighty, standing well over six feet tall, Denton had the appearance of a gentleman giant. The waistcoat of his rumpled suit might have only just covered his large girth, his long overcoat might have been old and patched, and his wide-brimmed hat had definitely seen better days; but somehow Denton always managed to carry himself as though he belonged among the wealthy denizens on the west side of town. His round face carried a perpetually welcoming expression, and he had the energy of one thirty years younger. And he was wise, wiser than any teacher Marney had ever known. He was an empath, and her mentor.

He took out his fob watch and checked the time. 'What's keeping him?' he muttered.

As Denton slipped the watch back into his waistcoat pocket, Marney resumed staring at the sad little tavern.

Life had changed so much since this war had begun. Marney was only eighteen, had only been an agent of the Relic Guild for a little under six months, but it seemed like such a long time ago that she had been a simple student with aspirations of becoming a history teacher. She was part of a secret organisation now, for better or worse, and the Relic Guild was fighting its own war that the denizens knew little about.

'Ah,' said Denton. He smacked his lips as though tasting the air. 'Here he comes.'

Marney sensed it too, a moment later, a simmering presence that was heading their way. She switched her gaze to a slim, tunnel-like walkway on the left side of the tavern. A man in his late twenties emerged from the darkness and made his way towards the two empaths. He wore his long brown coat open and carried a short rifle in his hands, its power stone glowing. The swish of his coat revealed a revolver holstered to his thigh. His hair was close-cropped, dark brown; above pale eyes, his brow, as ever, was deeply furrowed.

'You took your time, Samuel,' Denton said jovially. 'I assume you found something that arrested your attention?'

'Not especially,' Samuel replied humourlessly. 'There's no backdoor, but I did find the entrance to the cellar. It's chained shut.'

'Did you see or hear anyone?'

'Nothing.'

Denton cast an appraising eye over the tavern. 'Samuel, this place obviously closed for business some hours ago. Are you sure your information was correct?'

'Chaney's Den,' Samuel said with a nod, 'the first hour of Silver Moon – this is definitely where it's happening.'

'Then perhaps the time was changed,' Denton said. 'Perhaps we are too late and our efforts are wasted here.'

Samuel huffed, and Marney could sense his irritation.

'Or maybe we should stop messing around and just go and wake up the landlord,' he said.

'An excellent suggestion, Samuel,' Denton replied cheerily. 'We'll take the back way, I think.'

Shaking his head, Samuel headed back towards the walkway, his rifle in hand.

Marney and Denton followed, and she smiled at the mischievous glint in her mentor's eye. Samuel wasn't the easiest person to get along with, and Denton enjoyed trying to lighten him up.

Despite Denton's joviality, Marney was struggling to quell a feeling of apprehension. True, she hadn't been a Relic Guild agent for very long, but she had gained experience enough to know that however deserted Chaney's Den appeared, when dealing with Aelfirian artefacts, nothing was ever as it seemed.

Behind the tavern was a small courtyard enclosed by a wall. Crates of empty bottles and old beer barrels lay discarded. The doors to the cellar were a pair of heavy wooden flaps set into the cobbled floor. A thick chain was looped around their handles, secured by a heavy padlock.

'I could freeze the lock and break it,' Samuel suggested, tapping the revolver at his thigh.

Denton gave him a disapproving look and shook his head. He produced a little phial from the inside pocket of his coat and, stepping past Samuel, crouched his impressive bulk before the cellar doors.

'Whenever applicable,' he said to Marney, 'the subtle approach is preferable to open aggression.' He nodded towards Samuel. 'Occasionally even the more established agents of the Relic Guild need reminding of this.'

'Just open the bloody doors,' Samuel growled.

Marney stifled a nervous chuckle.

Denton uncorked the phial and dripped several drops of liquid into the padlock. The metal hissed and steamed as the acid began eating through the locking mechanism. After a few moments, the padlock snapped open, and Denton removed the chain.

His expression now serious, the old empath nodded at Samuel who returned the gesture and aimed his rifle at the cellar doors. Denton then motioned to Marney. Together they grabbed a handle each and lifted the wooden flaps.

'It's clear,' Samuel said a moment later, and he led the way down a set of stone steps leading into the cellar.

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