Contains spoilers from Thief's War by Hilari Bell!
A/N: Hi readers! This is a Knight and Rogue fic written by both myself and a fellow writer named Irony'sFriend (who also has a profile on this site-check her out through my favorites link). She has written the chapters in Fisk's pov, and I have written the chapters in Michael's. Basically, this is the sequel to the heartbreaking fourth book, Thief's War. Our goal is to fix the ending our way by writing how we would reunite Michael and Fisk. Feel free to leave reviews! We appreciate them! -MagicWords1 and Irony'sFriend
Heroes and Thieves
Chapter One: Fisk
As I walked home from my shift at the tavern, I could tell that they were following me again. I didn't have Gifts like he did, but I'd been working the streets long enough to sense when something was out of place. I noticed that the same faces who watched me apply to the local tavern as a bartender were the same faces who moved into the room next to mine at a cheap but clean inn. I was actually packed and ready to leave tomorrow, but I apparently overestimated their need to plan.
I also overestimated their need for subtlety. I kept to lit streets and main roads, but even with this precaution, three large men cut off my path ahead, and at least three more closed in on me from behind. I looked around for any bystanders that might run for the sheriff, but I couldn't see a soul despite this street being filled with popular shops. I should have learned from the Rose how easily people would turn a blind eye to cruelty if it meant saving their own skin.
Thankful that I always kept a few golden coins hidden in folds of my clothing, I held out my purse. For the first time in my life, the bag weighed somewhat heavy, and I was bitter to give it up, but I wasn't a moron. I couldn't take on six men by myself. Besides, thieves that went to such drastic measures were not worth fighting.
Unfortunately, these supposed thieves didn't even react to my proffered coins. They stalked closer, and I could detect the outlines of weapons even in the rapidly diminishing light. My mind raced as I calculated how long I could run if I incapacitated one or two, but no matter what scenario I imagined, they all ended in my capture. I held up my hands in surrender, for better to be smart and remain in good physical shape than to destroy a later chance of escape in a pointless battle.
I watched as they came closer and tried to ignore the way my heartbeat escalated to erratic thumping. One raised his arm and hit my head with the hilt of a sword, and I fell into another's waiting arms. My purse dropped to the ground as I lost consciousness.
…
When I woke up, my wrists were chained to the wall above my head, and every joint in my body ached in protest against the position. I tried to shift my legs, so I could sit up better, but each movement only made the pain worse. Giving up on any sort of comfort, I examined my surroundings.
The floor was made of packed dirt and the walls of roughly-cut stone. Only a single lantern on a wooden crate offered any sort of illumination, and the limited circle of light revealed little. I could assume that I was underground based on the dampness in the air, but past that, I knew nothing. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious, so I couldn't even say what town I was in.
What do you know, Michael? I didn't end up hanged. I bet you never would have expected this, I thought wryly, somewhat hysterically to be honest.
The fear I didn't have time to feel on the night they captured me reared its head in triple the force. My breathing came out in shallow pants, and my heart beat harder than ever. It seemed a bit unfair.
Ever since I parted ways with Michael, I stayed straight. No cons, no burglary. I only sharped cards to pass the time. His wayward nobility hadn't rubbed off on me or anything; that I could promise. Mostly, I just didn't have to anymore since I still had my half of the reward for bringing down the Rose. I only tended the bars for something to do, and the cheap inn was a habit.
So why would something like this happen now of all times?
As if to answer my question, a door opened from across the room, and a wave of light flooded in. My eyes squinted at the unexpected assault, so I couldn't get a glimpse of anything before the door shut, and I was thrust into darkness once again. Heavy footsteps thumped across the dirt until an unnaturally tall man with white, skeletal fingers stepped into the glow of the lantern.
"Nonopherian Fisk, I presume?" he asked in a snobby voice. I immediately recognized a noble's accent.
Jack always said to go along with a situation until you could turn it to benefit you. His advice had never lead me wrong before, so I nodded hesitantly.
"Ah, thank the gods," the noble sighed in relief. "I hoped those brutes would prove capable, and while they lack certain finesse, they are good at what they do, I suppose."
"What do you want from me?" It was a fair question. I had never met this man before, and I could think of no reason for him to go to such measure to obtain me.
He looked surprised, but he quickly recovered by smoothing over his features. He adjusted his doublet, a fine black one threaded with silver. "Pardon my lapse of manners. I am Master Pierce, and I seek the location of a friend of yours."
I immediately thought of Michael and his mindless schemes. He tried so hard to be a noble knight errant, but I knew how he tended to go about things in a backward way. Still, I couldn't imagine how he'd managed to get on the bad side of such a rich man.
"I'm sorry, but I don't travel with him anymore," I admitted.
Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? My reports tell me that you were quite close with Jack Bannister and recently reunited with him in Tallowsport."
My heart which had been beating so wildly before now thudded to a near stop. "I… I.." Deep in my mind, I knew I had to say something to get out of this situation, but nothing translated into verbal words. After all, what could I say? If this man had been asking around, there would be some people who'd remember seeing Jack and I together at Tallowsport, and that could be interpreted in a number of ways.
"I advise not trying to deny it, Master Fisk," Pierce warned. "I will go to any lengths to find Bannister, and at the moment, you are my only lead."
I hated how unconvincing and desperate my next words would sound, but they were the truth, and I had no answer. "I have not traveled with Jack for a long time. I have no idea where he is."
Pierce sighed as if I had disappointed him. "Loyalty is such a troublesome and painful thing," he mourned. "You'll see soon enough."
When he opened the door to leave the basement, I made sure to keep my eyes open to take in every detail of the room that I could in the brief moment that the light shined inside. I regretted the decision immediately after.
Swords and knives hung on the walls in every shape and size, some straight and some wickedly curved, but all were expertly sharpened. I recognized common torture contraptions like stocks, racks, and whips. However, those didn't frighten me nearly as much as an intricate pulley system and multiple tubs. I noticed the water swaying ominously in the largest barrel, and I was thankful when the darkness hid my fate from me once more.
…
I didn't know how long I waited with only the single lantern to comfort me. The aches in my arms grew worse until they tingled and then went numb. My stomach begged for food, but I knew that was a luxury I would not likely be experiencing for a long time. Though my eyelids drooped with a need for sleep, I couldn't dare let myself drift with all those instruments in the room with me.
…
Two of Pierce's 'brutes' came down and lit a few more lanterns to cast the room in an ominous pallor. When one unlocked my chains, my arms screamed in agony, and I immediately missed being numb. I started to struggle but soon realized that exhaustion and hunger-induced weakness eliminated any effect, and I recognized Pierce's game. He kept me locked up so long, so I'd already be weak when he started.
Iron-like fists clamped around my arms and dragged me to the tub of water. I had never liked water. I never learned to swim, and I avoided anything to do with it, especially after Michael's and my dealings with the sea. However, there was nothing I could do as they thrust me underneath and held me there until my lungs burned and my tears dissolved unseen into the torturous depths.
When they finally let me up, I gasped desperately for air and begged for a moment of reprieve. They only pushed me under again. After three more endless sessions, they demanded Jack's whereabouts, and I could only shake my head and sob. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried. Normally, I had to be the strong one for Michael, but with no one to witness my humiliation, I allowed a few tears… but only a few. These bastards didn't deserve anymore.
They returned me to my chains, and I didn't even mind the pain. At least this kind was familiar.
…
After the water torture, they turned to knives, making long shallow cuts. I started to hate Jack when the pain peaked. Even though he couldn't possibly know about my situation, I blamed him in my weaker moments. Then I tried to remind myself with memories of our better times together.
…
I lost track of time.
…
The worst part wasn't even the torture. I hated when they left me alone even more.
With nothing to do but stare at the lantern in my hateful chains, thoughts that I had been avoiding for a long time plagued my brain. I remembered every adventure I shared with Jack. Some of our cons were funny stories while other couldn't be told in polite company. Then I thought of that last con, and my bitterness at my current situation only festered.
I often thought of Michael. We had our own share of adventures, mostly him getting us into all kinds of trouble. To be honest, I preferred thinking of the in-between times. When we splurged on a good meal, exchanged stories over a campfire, argued about sensible prices. When we slowly revealed pieces of ourselves while traveling or when we'd just gotten off a temporary job.
We'd grown close in a way that Jack and I never had. To Jack, I was always a kid. I'm not sure what I was to Michael, but it was something more equal.
Not that any of it mattered now. I had burned both of those bridges.
I was alone.
…
Sometimes Pierce visited me. I learned to hate his snobby, noble accent.
…
I always expected it to be Michael's fault if I ever found myself in life-threatening peril. I may have dabbled in more criminal activities during my time with Jack, but he had a good head for saving his own skin, and usually his safety meant mine. That was, until he wrote me off as a loser, and a dangerous one at that, and left me behind.
My theory wasn't unsound. Michael was behind all the tight situations I had been in during the past two years. The issue with Lady Ceciel, the ridiculous plan to capture the wreckers, and our enslavement to the Rose had all come about because of him. He might have argued that Jack had been behind the wreckers and the Rose, but I wouldn't have been involved if it wasn't for Michael.
However, I couldn't argue that Michael didn't deal with his fair share of pain. While I always seemed to be the one in trouble when I traveled with Jack, Michael had made a point to bare all the pain between the two of us.
If he was here now, I knew he'd willingly trade places with me. At least… he would have before.
After the way we left, I couldn't be so sure. He'd be smart to write me off for good. I wouldn't blame him. He had never been that smart in the past, but perhaps I had taught him a lesson similar to the one Jack had taught me.
I bet he'd gotten too smart to help me now. I hoped so.
