The Thief Maker (ON HOLD)

The Others

The Others

“How was your initiation?” Celeran asked Garen as he led him up the serpentine staircase of the clock tower to the giant bells. They both looked out from the observatory upon the drear and depressing city. Garen grinned as he begun to answer.

         “No need,” waved Celeran. “I can judge facial expressions easily enough.”

A raven flapped its inky wings down upon the iron railing on the observatory. “I didn’t just bring you up here to merely admire the view of Lamorr, Garen,” he continued. “I needed our conversation to be secret. And it is.”

Celeran stared out at the city. Garen followed his gaze.

“I have brought you here today, Garen, to discuss a matter that concerns me greatly.” He glanced down at Garen. “Are you ready?”

Garen nodded hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.

“Take my hand,” he said. “And don’t let go.”

Garen didn’t let go.

In the instant his grasped Celeran’s hand, he felt a sudden rip at his stomach and a blast of pain in his head. Around him, the observatory shifted and melted almost, the stone oozing into a dark murk tinged with green. The sky burned a bright, blinding white and then morphed. The pair of them materialized into a darkness so deep Garen could not find Celeran. It was only when he felt a thud beneath his feet that he saw the Thief Maker’s cloaked body, tendrils of shadow and mist curling off his robes. They were still holding hands.

Instead of standing atop the clock tower, they were inside some building, ornate and lavish with chandeliers glittering like stars overhead.  The room was darker than in actuality, with a strange green hue draped over the space, shifting like a sea and acting like fog.

“Confused?” said Celeran. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

He let go of Garen’s hand. “This, just so happens to be the Count’s Manor.” A sudden fear gripped at Garen and his eyes dashed this way and that for the guards, but the place was empty and barren. Deadly. “Nobody can see us,” Celeran said. “This is but a mere memory, a representation from my mind as to what I remember it to be. I have something to show you.”

The Thief Maker brought him to an altar in a large circular room. The ceiling was high and domed with an oculus that allowed a small amount of light to sneak through and kiss the edges of the stone altar. “Do you have any idea where this is?” he asked, stopping. Specifically?”

Garen shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what this is?” The question was terribly rhetoric. “This is the not an altar, even though it may look it. This,” he said, the word echoing through the emptiness as he strode up the steps of the dais, “is a pedestal.” He patted the velvet cushion and dust leaped off it. “It was displaying something for a very long time. It has been stolen.”

He strode back to Garen, raising an eyebrow. “We must find out who stole it, and why. It may seem we are not the only ones playing with the Count.”

“You mean another guild,” said Garen.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Celeran. “Although this guild is not like us, Garen. They are trying to steal the Count’s riches. They are avarice, as you’ll find with most thieves in this city, much like yourself. But we, Garen, are trying to steal his power, a different thing entirely.”

Celeran swept through the mists of his memory. “I have spent far too long planning this overthrow. I will not watch it crumble to the greedy hands of some ignorant thieves.” The Thief Maker looked distorted in the pale light leaking through the oculus. “Once you are done with your training, you, my friend, are going to help me with that.”

“You want me to steal back whatever was stolen?” said Garen, guessing.

“No,” said the Thief Maker, holding out his hand for Garen to grab it. “I want you to kill them.”

The Eyrie was dark when they returned. Garen watched Celeran make his way into a dark room through a mahogany door and Vash follow close behind him. He knew exactly what she was doing.

The rusted mechanisms that controlled the clock turned and groaned like a creaking tree caught in a summer’s breeze as he climbed down the staircase. Then it rung, the bells slamming together overhead like thunder.

The hands upon the tinted clock pointed to the seven. It was Reckoning. Garen hurried back up to the observatory to catch a glimpse at the crowd from the height and see if anything broke out. Surely, the people wouldn’t revolt after the laws were heaved upon them double. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Garen saw the people file into the square like a million tiny ants so far below and bend to their knees and pray to some god they only half believed in. Afterwards, the Captain of the Watch stepped before the people, his armor dark and grim. The Count himself was wise enough not to appear this time. Even with his absence, the people were incensed. Loud, public disapproval rained down upon the guards and the Captain both, until a rock was thrown at one of the guards. This time though, the guards did not stir, only stood like stone statues and watched the angry mob swell in angst and rage. It seemed the Count had learned.

The bells rung like hammers striking iron from above, splitting the sky in two. At that moment, Garen noticed he was the only one watching. He glanced about the rest of the hideout. It seemed they had come to know what happened all too well. They had seen it before.

Arrow was shooting a bow with a strange curve when he peeked behind his shoulder to see Garen staring out at the chaos. “Have you heard the news?” he said with a vulpine grin.

“News?” Garen asked.

Arrow glanced downward at the papers that littered the ground. “I don’t think I need to tell you when you can read for yourself.”

Garen looked down and picked up one of the heavy newspapers. Black ink letters read over the top, THE PROHPHET. He read down further until he passed the same sketch of his face with a sketch of Nico’s beside him.

“Man who calls himself, Nico,” said Arrow, slipping his fingers from the string on his bow. “Got locked up last night. Said he was beaten to a bloody pulp, he was. Refused to give up any information to the Watch about you. Most like the man’s chained away in a cell now. Or dead.”

Please VOTE if you liked this chapter.