Overhead, the clouds shifted over the moon, drenching the city in muted darkness. Megan pressed her back up against the wall, listening for footsteps around the corner. Her feet were tired and her eyes itched to close in sleep, but her heart pounded too hard to let her even consider stopping. No one was coming. Walking as lightly as she could, hoping her skirts didn't make a sound, she turned the corner and stepped into the shadowed overhang of a gated door. Still nothing moved in the city. Overhead, a light from a third story window drifted down, making a patch of yellow glow on the cobblestones. It was open, and the door on the ground floor was accessible. Holding her breath, Megan bolted across the street to stand beside it. Every nerve was tensed as her hand slowly clenched the door latch and a click echoed out into the streets. It was open.
This is it, Megan thought with a deep breath, I'm going to break the law. I'm going to go into this building and steal whatever I can use… Maybe they'll have a map, and then I'll be able to find the guard house… Guilt swept over her even before she pushed the wooden door open and stepped into the hall. At the end, though a doorway, she could hear two muffled voices making small talk about how the city's crime rate had been skyrocketing. Megan slunk up the stairs on the side, relieved to find the upper rooms unlit. She tried the door on her right, first, only finding a few empty crates piled in a corner, nothing of use. The guilt had slowly worn off as she progressed, replaced only by the chilling fear of being discovered.
The second door resisted her attempts to push it open, so she tiptoed further, freezing just outside the last darkened room. There were two candles spilling orbs of light across the room, and a figure lay snoring on the bed. The woman rolled over in her sleep, mumbling something, but she did not awake. Megan swallowed as quietly as she could. On the table beside the bed was a gleaming key. That might fit the locked door!
It took some effort for Megan to start her feet moving into the occupied room, walking slowly with even her fingers spread apart, as if their rubbing together would awaken the woman in the bed. Step by step, the bedside table crept closer until the key was almost in her grasp. The sleeper snorted in their sleep, making Megan jump, dashing to the dark corner for shelter. A few silent moments passed before Megan knew it was safe again. Her hand reached out slowly, slowly… she could almost feel the cold metal in her hand…
A shriek echoed in the streets outside, followed by the piercing clang of metal on metal. The woman sat bolt upright at the noise and whirled to stare right at Megan.
"Who are you?" she demanded in a noble, educated voice as she frowned. It didn't take a moment for her to realize what was going on when her eyes settled on Megan's outstretched hand and the key. "Help! Help! Thief!" she screeched at the top of her lungs, leaping out of the bed. "Don't hurt me!" she screamed before bolting out of the room. Her shouts for the guards echoed dully in the wooden hall.
Megan's eyes flew around the room. The only opening was a window out onto a ledge, two stories about the ground. Her hands wrapped around the window sill as the voices of guards floated into the room from downstairs. Their footsteps thundered on the stairs as they approached.
"Where the devil? Alright," the first guard shouted, "Where've you gone to?"
Out on the ledge, around the corner of the building, Megan held her breath, cursing herself for being so clumsy. There were no shadows where she stood, and the sudden image of a troupe of guards with bows sent a chill of dread into her. A ways down, the shadows started again, and for a long time, Megan clutched the wall, waiting, her ears straining for an exclamation of discovery and the whistle of an arrow aimed at her. But there was nothing. Everything was silent for a time.
Taking a deep breath, Megan began inching back to the window. The woman was gone, as were the guards, and not a sound betrayed their whereabouts. She lowered her foot carefully onto the wooden floor, air hissing between her lips as a creak echoed into the room. Nothing. The silence fueled her paranoia as she crept across the room, ducking into shadows wherever they were available. On the bedside table the key glittered in the candlelight. Within moments and without even thinking about it, Megan slipped the key into her pocket and fled into the shadows just outside in the hall, listening. Nothing moved.
"Where did they go?" she hissed aloud, keeping her voice low, but unable to stand the silence any longer. She waited a little longer until it was clear that nothing was coming. Then she slipped down the dim hallway to the locked door. The key clicked as she put it in and turned it, the door turned silently on its hinges. Inside, the room was lit by two candles, exposing a shelf of goods. Her eyes danced over the items as her hands snatched up a speed potion, two health potions, a water arrow, and a flash bomb.
Great, Megan thought as she bundled the items in her skirt, why do I even need a flash bomb? I can't ever look away in time. They're useless. All the same, having it in her hand felt right, so she kept it.
Carrying everything cupped in the folds of her skirt made moving stealthily difficult, and Megan resolved that she would steal a pair of pants and a cloak with deep pockets the next chance she got. The thought made her sick. What am I becoming? I'm not playing at being a thief anymore—I'm a criminal for real! Her feet couldn't carry her down the stairs fast enough. The voices in the room at the end of the hall were still murmuring softly, and she could hear someone pacing. That must be where the woman went. The flood of relief washed over Megan as her hand settled on the door latch and she stepped out onto the street.
A row of bushes along the side of the road caught her eye as a good place to organize her things, and Megan didn't bother to hide her footsteps on the cobblestones in her hurry to get into the shadows. Overhead, the moon came out again, providing her with just enough light to set her things down and look them over properly. The health potions were necessary, no way around it. She wasn't sure if they'd work on her, being from another world, but there was no sense in leaving them behind. The speed potion would come in handy if she ever needed to get away quickly, so this she bundled up, too. But the flash bomb… with a sigh, she tucked it under the bushes.
"I'll come back for it later if I have to…" she murmured to herself.
"It won't be there," a gruff voice said suddenly. Megan leapt to her feet and tried to press into the corner of the shadows, only to find someone already there. With a yelp she stumbled back, falling on her back as she watched a figure emerge from the shadows. His gloved hand reached out and lifted the flash bomb from beside her foot, tucking it into his black cloak.
It didn't take her more than one guess to figure out who it was. "Garrett!" she breathed, staring at him, the man behind whose eyes she had grown use to this world.
He watched her suspiciously, but made no effort to run. It was clear he knew who was more capable of defending themselves in case of trouble. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" His voice, just like in the game, sent a chill to Megan's stomach.
"I was heading to the guard station to find-"
Her words were cut off as he lunged forward, snagging her by the throat and moving his face so close to she could feel the heat of it and watched his mechanical eye focus on her under his dark expression. "Oh really? Do you have that much faith in the city guard?" His words grated her ears with scorn.
Garrett was squeezing, now, slowly cutting off her windpipe. There was only one thing that came to her mind as her vision began spiraling to black. She let out a squeak. The thief stopped as his eyes grew wide.
He stood up quickly, staring down on her with surprise and distrust scrawled across his face. "What did you say?"
Megan's hand flew to her throat as she coughed, air flooding back into her lungs. "Artemus," she gasped. "I know Artemus."
"Give them to me," Raife growled as he sat glaring at Daphne as if the look alone could drop her where she stood.
Daphne crossed her arms and glared back. "Why should I?"
"Because they're my boots!" he shouted. Sherry clapped her hands over hear ears.
"Stop it both of you! Do you want those creatures to find us?" She sent a chilling glare at both of them before putting her hands on her hips. "Daphne, do you even know where we're going?"
"I doubt she knows where we are." Raife scowled as Daphne begrudgingly took off his boots and handed them to him. His eyes snagged on the cloak. "That's mine too." The thief was on his feet with one hand knotted in the cloth before Daphne could balk and pull away from him.
The bar maid's hand came down on Raife's with a sharp slap that echoed through in the dark alley. Pulling his hand away abruptly, the thief scowled at her and sank back onto the steps to put on his boots.
"It's not like you need a cloak," Daphne snorted, "You've already stolen another one, I see."
"I like my cloak." He didn't look up as Sherry began to pace.
"We need to know where we're going. What do we need to do?" She looked right at Daphne. "You're the one who seems to have an idea what's going on."
Raife jumped when Daphne threw his cloak at him and crossed her arms, sniffing as she said, "Fine. Take your dumb cloak." Then she addressed Sherry. "As for where we need to go, I'm not exactly sure yet. Garrett's the one who knows where that item is, and as far as I've seen, he's no where to be found. He's probably already got the talisman or whatever it is…" She began walking to the end of the alley, looking up as the moon came out from behind the clouds, throwing milky light over the city. Megan, where are you? Daphne crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her eyes darting down all the roadways that passed by the alley, keeping a watch for stumbling zombies. They'd lost the last ones, after what seemed like a few miles of sprinting, but now she had no idea where they were in the city. For all their fuss, neither Sherry nor Raife had any idea either.
"If I were Garrett," she mused quietly, "what would I do now? I'd find a map… but what if I can't find one… where would have a map?"
Raife straightened his cloak on his shoulders, carefully lifting the hood over his head. His mouth morphed into a smirk as the rest of his face disappeared into the shadows. Even so, in the dark, his eyes twinkled as they reflected the moonlight. "I've got a map," he said.
Daphne looked over at him. "Why didn't you just say so?" she demanded, glaring hard.
"You had my cloak," he snapped back. "You had a map the whole time!"
"I searched your cloak, you didn't have a map."
"You stole my money, but you clearly missed the important stuff." His mouth turned down at the corners in a grimace, "You soaked it right through, anyway. I'll be lucky if the ink didn't run."
"You're lucky you're alive at all!" Daphne took a step forward, raising her fists even as a cold laugh echoed from the thief.
"Children, please!" Sherry cried at last, throwing up her hands between them. "Just get out the map, Raife and we'll all get on our way."
The thief bit back a grumble as he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, shaking it in front of Daphne for a moment before bothering to open it. "Well, it seems alright, lucky for you," he said. "Where are we going?"
"The Old Quarter." Her voice was cold.
Raife looked hard at the map.
Sherry let out an exasperated sigh and muttered, "You're hopeless," before she snatched the map from his hands and began looking it over herself. The thief crossed his arms and walked over to the wall, leaning his back up against it. "Alright," she said, walking over to Daphne. "We're here. The Old Quarter is all the way over there. We can walk along this road until we get to the bridge, then we have to turn left. See?"
Daphne nodded and began chewing on her nails absently. Raife eventually migrated over to them and glanced over their shoulders with a brief scowl before walking back to the shadowed corner of the alley, acting as if he didn't care. At last, however, he grew visibly irritated by the long wait and the two girls speaking in hushed voices.
"Are you ladies done yet, or will it take you the rest of the night?"
Hardly bothering to lift her head to glare back at him, Daphne muttered, "This wouldn't be nearly so hard if you hadn't abandoned Megan. Now we have to consider where she might have gone. If we do find the talisman, or whatever it is that brought the two of us here, I'm not leaving without her."
The thief must have rolled his eyes, but under the hood, it wasn't visible. "Such sweet sentiment." The sarcasm wasn't lost on anyone.
"Why don't you just leave, if you're so set against being helpful?" Sherry snapped at last.
"Look, I-" Raife stepped forward, but all three froze, listening to the voices coming down the street. It sounded like Hammerites…
Daphne motioned for them to sink into the shadows, and they stood as still as statues as the troupe of Hammerites marched toward them from down the street. There were almost a dozen of them, all marching in line as they chanted one of their hymns about the Builder. The leader, to their dismay, carried a torch.
The light spread out across them before the three had a chance to shift, and the leader's voice rang overhead. "What is this? Pagans?"
"We're no Pagans!" Daphne cried, even as two heavy, gloved hands fell on her shoulders, clamping her in an iron grip. "We're just citizens!"
Sherry let out a squeak when one of the Hammerites caught her arm and pulled her into the light of the torch, giving her a good once over with his dubious eyes. "This one looks common enough…" he muttered to the leader.
Two of the guards tried to lay hands on Raife, but even before Daphne could shout for him to stop, the thief had drawn his sword. The two guards pulled their hammers from where they hung at their backs, and swung at him. The battle cry rang out over the streets, "For the Builder!" And the rest of the men, not holding either Daphne or Sherry, went after the thief, who upon seeing himself greatly outnumbered by iron mallets, made a few quick slices before bolting down the alley, and vanishing around the corner. The troupe of Hammerites followed him, and Daphne felt the guard at her shoulders lock her hands behind her back and shove her forward.
"Thee must be a Pagan to be caught so with a thief. Unless thee be a thief thyself?" He forced her in front of the leader who still held the torch above his head. "Brother Meldorn, I leave these pagans to thy fair judgment."
Brother Meldorn cast a loathing glance at the two girls. "The Builder guideth me to take these criminals back to Gormalt Cathedral. They shalt be dealt with there." With that, he turned and began leading the few remaining men of his troupe back down the street.
In the distance, Daphne saw the towers of Gormalt Cathedral, and her stomach sank.
Garrett glowered, or at least Megan thought he did, the cowl of his cloak hid most of his face in shadows. "I don't hold any alliance with Artemus's friends," he said at last, pushing the words through his teeth while his eyes never left her face.
A burst of boldness, driven by desperation made Megan stand up. The master thief pulled back a little, not out of fear, but more from what seemed like distain. "Look, Garrett, I need information about something, something strange."
"It'll cost you."
Megan felt an angry flush slip across her cheeks. It was all fine and good to play Garrett in the game, but when actually forced to deal with him, he made her skin crawl and his calloused sarcasm was irritating. "I've only got what you can see."
"That's not nearly enough."
"Then tell me where I can find Artemus so I can speak with him!"
Her voice bounced off the walls of the street, and quite abruptly, the thief pressed a gloved hand over her mouth, drawing her back into the shadowed corner. From out of no where came a chorus of moans and the stamping feet of a cluster of zombies, not walking together, exactly, but not walking singularly, either. Megan felt Garrett's hand slip away from her as he pulled out the flash bomb from the folds of his cloak. The zombies drew closer, their shuffling steps echoing down the road, trailed by the sound of their gurgling, rasping breaths.
The master thief's eyes were focused on them, and if she hadn't known he was there, Garrett might truly have been only a shadow himself. Not until the zombies slipped around the corner did the flash bomb return to the folds of the cloak.
A soft rumbling came from beside her, and Garrett was already halfway though his muttering when she figured out he was speaking. "So it looks like the Hammers were right after all…" he sounded almost amused. He turned his shadowed face back to her. "What kind of trouble are you in to want to find the Keepers so much?"
Megan frowned, but didn't move. Her ears still played tricks on her, making her hear the moans of the undead everywhere outside of the shadows. When she did reply, her voice was almost too soft to hear. "I don't usually hold much stock in the Keepers," she growled, "They've usually gotten me—you—into more trouble than it was worth. But if you won't help me, I should find Artemus. He'd know what brought me here, or no one would."
"Brought you…" The thief eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"
Megan shifted under his sharp gaze, unsure of how much she should tell him. A voice in the back of her head reminded her that if anyone would care less that she was from another world, it would be Garrett. "Me and a friend, we're… not from around here. We aren't even supposed to be here, but it wasn't exactly our choice. It just happened." She explained only what she had to, mentioning how she and Daphne had suddenly appeared in the city, and their encounters with Raife. She was tempted to mention more, but she had a feeling that she should wait until she could speak with Artemus.
During this, the thief watched her with an unreadable expression, and when at last Megan stopped talking and gasped to fill her lungs with air again, he looked up at the skies, almost as if expecting something. "Well, this is interesting…" he muttered under his breath before looking back at her, as evenly as ever. "I don't hold much stock in Keepers, either, but I know when one of their prophesies start messing things up in the city." He turned, his black cloak falling about his shoulders in the same way it always had in the short videos intermixed with game play. A gloved hand waved her forward. "Artemus had better know what's going on. Follow me."
With that, he began down the street, and Megan had to run to keep up, glancing over her shoulders at every odd noise that might be a zombie waiting to ambush them. The master thief seemed to have a sixth sense about him, allowing him to know the direction they headed, regardless of all the twisting, turning roads they went down. Once or twice Garrett grabbed her wrist and pulled a hand free from where it clung to his cloak.
"Let go," he'd growl, waiting until Megan unknotted her hand from the cloth and waited for him to scope out the area around a corner or down a brightly lit street.
The only means of determining direction she had was the silhouette of a giant cathedral, arching up into the ever darkening sky. Now and then, the thief would glance upward, and a soft curse escaped his lips before he pulled the hood of his cloak down farther. Several times, they had to freeze in the shadows, waiting as a zombie or a city guard moved only two feet from them. Once the sound of footsteps had vanished, the thief set off at his long stride, vanishing into the shadows so completely that a few times Megan froze, unsure of where to go. Each time, his voice would hiss out of the dark, and if his tone were not so frightening, she might have taken a moment to giggle softly to herself. If only Daphne were here! But the thought weighed heavily on her mind, and soon, Megan refused to think about her friend's fate. I'll figure out if she's alive or not AFTER I find out what's going on. It offered little consolation.
Daphne let the bulky Hammerite nudge her none too gently down the street, inexorably heading to the cathedral. Her stomach twisted inside her as she thought of all the game missions that took place in the mighty Hammerite cathedrals. In all of them, she remembered four words better than any others. "I will cudgel thee!" She shivered and cast a forlorn glance at Sherry. The bar maid was being surprisingly stoic as she was marched along, holding her head high and drawing her shoulders back as if the man holding onto her shoulders were her guardian, and not her captor.
"Thank the Builder, the cathedral is nye upon us," Brother Meldorn murmured as they marched, but something in the tone of his voice hinted that he was nervous to get inside its heavy doors. He glanced about as if expecting something to appear out of nowhere beside them.
"Nary a Pagan hath crossed mine sight," Daphne's guard muttered to his commander. Meldorn nodded solemnly.
"Mention not their name, Brother Ellard. Ears and eyes hath no telling to what they plan in yon black minds… what evil they plotteth against the Builder's loyal." Meldorn took a step into the courtyard, above which stretched the immense height of Gormalt Cathedral. Daphne swallowed hard, and caught a panicked look in Sherry's eyes.
The step carried him into the light of a street lamp, and before anyone, even Meldorn himself, knew what was going on, a cry echoed out of nowhere, the accent distinct. "Theres you be, Hammer man! Kills it, friends!"
Daphne reeled as the guard at her shoulders spun her away from him, brandishing his shining hammer as he and his companion raced around the corner where balls of green light crashed into the cathedral walls. Their war cry echoed even as their screams and the screams of dying Pagans blanketed the night in wild, chaotic noise. It seemed as if almost instantly, the doors of the cathedral flew back and a flood of red uniformed Hammerites flew into the fray. The commotion had lights up and down the street turning on, the startled cries that no doubt accompanied them were drowned out by the battle.
It took a few moments for the two girls to realize they were no longer captive, and Daphne motioned for Sherry to follow her as she turned to run down the street. Her feet stuck in place and she lost her balance, crashing to the ground with a curse. A vine had wrapped itself around her ankles, and it was still growing, twisting itself around her.
"Get it off! Get it off!" Daphne cried, and Sherry's eyes flew around for something sharp to start hacking the vine away with.
Even as she looked, another vine from out of the alley twisted around Daphne's arm, squeezing until she squeaked with pain. Sherry whirled around with a broken bottle she'd snatched from the ground and made her way toward the vines.
"Stop!" A chilling voice called from the shadows, and a figure in the darkness extended an arm toward the bar maid. With a hiss like cords being unreeled with sudden force, a tangle of vines flew out of the arm and engulfed Sherry even as she screamed. The bottle fell shattered to the ground as the vines from the figure's arms knotted around the girl's neck, tightening. The screams from the girl's throat cut off suddenly as her eyes rolled back and she blacked out. Only when she crumpled to the ground did the arm of vines withdraw back into the shadows.
"Sherry!" Daphne cried, no more able to move than a worm in a cocoon. Her arms pressed against her side, even as the vines continued to wrap around her, squeezing her.
The figure stepped out into the light, looking down with black, glittering eyes at the prisoner. Daphne's eyes widened as she stared as the woman's skin fading from green back to the color of flesh. "Victoria," she gasped, feeling her heart begin pounding like one of the Hammerite's mallets in her chest.
The woman froze and her black eyes burned. "How do you know about Victoria?" she asked, her voice polished and her grammar flawless, just like Victoria's had been before… The words caught in Daphne's throat as she shook her head in awe. Victoria was dead, wasn't she? The woman took that as stubbornness, for her arm twisted into the mass of vines and shot out like a viper, tangling around Daphne's throat. Her voice screeched like a thousand leeches, if leeches could speak. "HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT VICTORIA?"
Daphne choked, only vaguely aware of the innumerous figures suddenly standing all around them. "I met her once! I know how she helped Garrett!" The vines tightened.
"Dare you to speak of that man?" the woman's skin was peeling back again, exposing the plantlike flesh underneath. "How did you meet Victoria? What would she have wanted with a meat creature like you?"
"She saved everyone from the Mechanists! I saw it! I was there!" At last, the vines loosened, withdrawing back to the woman. Behind her, Daphne heard Sherry groan as the girl stirred out of unconsciousness.
The woman seemed to regain a little of her face, but her beady black eyes never faltered from Daphne's face. "But you are no more than a child," she said, almost to herself. "What movement of the Trickster is this? A yearling, the sap and heartwood still green beneath the skin…" Then, more frightening than ever before, the woman smiled, not showing her teeth. "My name is Adrianna. I am Victoria's successor." She looked up at the silent, cowed Pagans as they waited for her to give them orders. "Take this sapling and her sister friend to the Glen." Her eyes settled on Daphne once more. "Many things have changed, little shoot, since Victoria's time. I know not why the Trickster has brought you to us, but if it is his will…" She made a quick gesture and a few of the Pagans moved forward, tying Sherry's hands and feet to a wooden staff with leftover vines. Two others bent down and brushed aside the vines around Daphne. The crawling ropes had withered and died at Adrianna's gesture, no more than crumbling decay, now. The two helped her to her feet, giving her a strange look of awe as the woman walked slowly over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "If it be his will…" Daphne heard Adrianna murmur once more, before the whole cluster began moving into the dark streets. The bodies of the murdered Hammerites littered the courtyard, and it was all Daphne could do to keep from throwing up on the ground.
Megan was right, she thought. It's no longer just a game…