Guild of Thieves

Chapter Three

I finished putting my things in my room. Remin had happily given me new racks for my weapons. My swords were mounted on the wall above my bed, the small hatchets were in a box under my bed, and all of my knives were displayed on an empty wall. Senke had suggested putting them in a box, but I wished to display them. They almost took up the entire wall.

My favorite ones were in the center of the mass. At the very center was an ornate but deadly knife. Father had given it to me before he left, telling me to use it wisely. The hilt was pure black stone, though of what stone I'm not sure. The blade was the purest of silver, gleaming even in the dark. Amber-colored topaz was embedded in the blade, giving off an eerie glow.

Father had told me he had it imbued with magic by priests. It held a poison deadly enough to kill a man in moments, it never dulled, and the glow would die down at my whim. It would only let me and Father hold it. If anyone else tried, their hand would be burned with the mark of Father's insignia. It was now my own, since Father had left.

It was a swirling dragon, maw open with flames shooting out. The wings were spread wide and the eyes would glow red whenever I demanded the mark to obey me. Once a man had the mark, they would have to listen to my every whim. Once I died, the mark would not disappear. Instead, the mark would burn on and on, and the man would have to search for the new master. No slaves had come to me, so any Father had created were still with him. He was out there, somewhere, and one day I would find him.

I gently set my stuffed wolf on my bed, making sure it didn't fall over. Father had given it to me as a child. I remembered that cold, dreary day. To most it would've been horrible, but to me it was one of the best memories. I dwelled on it, smiling at the warmth it brought.

~*~

I shivered in the cold. I stumbled down the back alleyway, bare feet soaked from the numerous puddles. Rats scampered past me as I kept going. Nobody loved me. Not even my own parents would have me, and they were supposed to love me! I must be a horrible child for my own mother and father to hate me.

I tripped and fell into a freezing cold puddle. I didn't have the strength to get up, I had been walking for hours with no food and little water. The best I could do was curl up into a ball and shiver. My life was over. There was no way around the awful fact. I was going to die.

I started to chuckle. I was going to die! I should've thought of dying days ago. What was the point of living if nobody would miss you when you died? I welcome Death, then. I will not cower before him as others do. Rather, I would greet him as an old friend; that is, if I ever had any friends.

So there I lay in a puddle with thin clothing and probably minutes until death. My chuckles burst forth as sheer laughter, ringing out in the empty alley. No more suffering, no more hate, no more pain. I would be free of my burdens, free of being the strange one. My laughter died off as I welcomed sleep. It was a slumber I did not want to wake from.

I opened my eyes to a soft glow. Was I dead? Was this what death was like? No, I wasn't dead. I was sore all over with a pounding headache. A wool blanket covered my tiny body. Where was I? Then the smell hit me.

Food! I instantly sat up, looking for the source of the smell. I was lying on the floor of an old cabin, a fire crackling in the fireplace in front of me. To my left lay a feast of food. Rolls, a bowl of rice, and a plate of ham sat right next to me, begging to be eaten.

I began scarfing down as much food as I could, trying to eat all of it at once. The rolls were gone in a matter of second. Sweet, sweet bread never tasted so good! The rice was perfect, and the ham was so delicious tears welled up in my eyes as I ate. It was all so good, I didn't want any to go to waste. Soon the dishes had been licked clean. I sat back, feeling fuller than I had in months, maybe even years.