Hello Lovies! This is my first time posting here, though i do have all my fic's on Ao3. Just thought i would try this place out also
This fic does have a Map to go along with it, so you can see where all the places are that i have made up.
you can see the Map on my Twitter here: /KingHugin/status/1367866668635000835
The prologue and Chapter 1 will be up on the same day, from there i'll try to post every two weeks.
Also this fic is not beta read, sorry for any mistakes. I would like to add that i am also british and so is my spelling!
Prologue
The man stumbled, cursing softly, though not nearly quiet enough if the look the shopkeeper threw his way was anything to go by. He waved the man off, letting a toothy smile flash under his deep hood and slurring as he stumbled away, giving off the impression he was drunk. Once out of sight he twisted behind another stall, backtracking slightly down the packed dusty street.
The twilight hung heavy in the air, lanterns bobbed between stalls like fat bloated moons of many colours. Casting soft pastel light on the people below. Shopkeepers called back and forth, trying to sell their wares as men and women filled the straw covered streets, laughing and bartering around him in a happy hum.
He stuck to the darker corners, gliding from one place to another, he didn't want to be noticed, even by some stranger who wouldn't recognize his face. He kept his hood high over his face, ducking his head when a curious merchant looked to close. He was known in the Midnight Market, a trader, a pedlar, a wanted man. Information was money in the market and he couldn't afford someone trying to claim the bounty on his head.
The man cursed again as he twisted from sight, taking the darker path to where he needed to be. Not many travelled down the Shadow part of the Market, even few felt as comfortable as he did. Supernaturals may feel at home here but even they wouldn't risk the law of the Higher Warlocks who ran the Market, to feast on a human. Even if it was one walking where they didn't belong.
He wasn't worried. He knew the Market like the back of his hand, like the city he was born in, like the one he had moved to, then the next and the next after that. His mind was incomparable, he only needed to look at something once to remember its layout, could call memories like pictures and dissect them at will. One of the many reasons he was wanted, but not the major one.
He could also disappear if need be, he always knew where the nearest exit was, as if he could sense the best way out of a bad situation. So he knew if he needed to vanish it was just a matter of finding the right place, for a short while at least. His time was running low, running out. And this time he couldn't escape it.
Another dash between stalls and the square finally came into view, a fountain of ravens taking flight in the centre, blood red water cascading over their outstretched stone wings. He snorted at the display. This creature he was going to see was forever one for the dramatics, even if said man would ever admit to such a silly human notion. The rest of the square was doused in shadows, the few high street lamps standing strong in each corner had their lights dimmed low. No lanterns strung from stall to stall and the dark canvas tents of merchants were silent.
Obviously he was expected.
The stairs of the little old hut creaked and groaned under his feet, the wood bowing so much with each step he thought his feet would simply fall through. But the steps held, as they had the last time he was here and the one before. The door opened easily under his palm, another reason he knew he was expected. None could force entry within the tiny shack unless they were wanted. The door complained as he shouldered it open to a large spacious living area, a heavy desk sat in the middle, a man shrouded my shadows behind it. The fire in the grate to his right spat light high in the air but still none of it touched the figure at the desk.
Though the light danced over the thick stag skull that hung on the wall behind the man, a heavy moss cloak nailed below it, twigs and leaves made up the collar, looking like a bird's plumage, the rest of the cape a tattered mess of different coloured wolf pelts.
It was from a time when humans were still scared of the dark, when they believed in the spirits of the woods and paid tribute in blood and pain. When they prayed not to Gods but the Spector's who shared their towns. Their beliefs might have faded but the lives of the spirits they had once served hadn't, taking up new lives within the Market. This one was one of the oldest, the King of the Whispering Woods. It was said he could control the trees, could move them to his will, that ravens flocked to his shoulders and whispered secrets in his ear, that wolves prowled at his heels and tore apart those who defied him. He had once worn the deer skull as a mask, his amber eyes flashing in the dark. Now he hid behind no mask, well not within his own home at least. His amber eyes shone like liquid gold, his skin fair as tissue paper, not a blemish in sight. The rest of him was as dark as the shadows and slid around them like a living thing.
"You look haggard Thief" the King of the Whispering Woods said, voice as smooth and sharp as cut glass.
"You knew" he spat, tearing the hood from his face and slamming his hands on the desk, looking straight into the hard amber eyes before him.
The smile aimed at him was as wide as it was vicious, teeth white and cutting. He could imagine them stained in blood so vividly that it made him want to step back, but he wasn't like the other humans, he could see through the unseen, could wipe away illusions and glamour like condensation on a window pane.
No supernatural, not even a self-proclaimed King, could make him see that what he did not wish to.
"You figured it out," the Woodland King stood, he wasn't tall, not really. All willowy limbs like the trees and roots he could command. But ancient beings had a way of making one feel small and the man felt as though he was towered over. Long spindly fingers gripped his jaw, the maw of the woodland King stretched so wide the Thief thought he would simply swallow him whole. "Oh little human, what will you do?" he was taunting, laughing at the Thief's pain. "Will you make it vanish like you do so many others? Sell it like all other things you own or steal? Maybe it's too sentimental for you to be rid of it so easily, why else would you be here"
The Thief pulled out of the King's grip, mouth curled in a snarl as he took a tentative step back. Ignoring the immortal man's taunts. "You knew all along, didn't you?" it wasn't really a question. He had been coming to the Market for years, had been coming to this particular Eternal Being for just as long. He should have known, information was rarely easy to find. He should have questioned it more and he already knew his mistake.
"You never asked the right questions" his head was tipped to the side, examining him like a bird of prey examined a thicket in the bush that had just moved, ready to pounce. "You humans are always so arrogant, think none can know more than you, that you are old and wise when you're nothing more than a babe."
They stared at one another, he wasn't about to fall for the bait, knew that anger normally led to him storming out without getting what he needed, and he desperately needed something only the King of the woods could offer him. He was out of time, nowhere else left to run, nowhere to hind. He couldn't afford to walk away.
Finally with a deep sigh the King sat back down, sweeping his hand down to the chair, a gesture for the Thief to sit also. "What business?"
Tension he didn't even know that had gathered in his shoulders eased as he sank into the familiar warm wood chair. At least the Immortal would hear him out, at least he could offer a trade without being turned away without so much as a by the by
"You'll bring it here. Hide it well."
pOne elegant eyebrow raised, the King sitting forward and leaning a chin on laced fingers. "And what will you give me in return? Not much a dead man can offer" /p
He reached in his pocket, pulling out the small opal gem, cloudy and milky like the eyes of those who could no longer see. The King took one look at what he offered and reared back, both brows now in his dark hairline. "You have been busy"
The Thief fiddled with the gem on the table, spinning it around and around slowly. "I have one also. I'll destroy it as soon as it's hidden. You'll keep this one, that way only you will be able to find it when I'm gone"
The King watched him, eyes narrowing as he thought the offer through. "You know invisibility cloaks don't work that way. This gem is just a gem without the scripts on how to make more"
The King was right, the old scripts, the scrolls of long forgotten magic that had gone missing in the Eshen desert all those eons ago. How they explained the making of invisibility cloaks - which men and supernatural alike still thought were nothing more than garments to this day.
They were wrong, of course. Invisibility cloaks were just magic imbued on something to be made unseen. But to keep that thing from being lost forever to myth and rumour, all cloaking must be paired with a seeking stone. A gem crafted to find its partner, be that an item or place it had been paired with when being made. It was the strongest magic out there, the same magic that hid Adral - the home to the supernatural races - from all of those who did not know where it was, or simply, didn't know where to look.
That wasn't to say, however, that all cloaks were created equal. The bigger the cloak the more chances that holes or cracks were likely to appear and be exploited by humans ambitious enough, or stupid enough, to slip quietly through if they had the know-how. He wondered if the Market was made with the same invisibility cloak but instead of a gem as its counterpart that showed entrance it was a symbol, as he had heard of such alternatives being used in unconventional situations. He understood why the Higher Warlocks would want the scrolls hidden, it was easy to pick away at the fabric of a place when one knew how it was made.
Even so the makings of the invisibility cloaks were long forgotten, none knew how the spell worked or what was needed to make them. Not unless one held the scripts and could read them.
"How do you think I'm showing you this? The scripts will be kept with the artefact. Once you find it, you'll find the scripts, and then you will know how to make as many cloaks as you wish. Simple."
"If you really have them then why not hide yourself?" it was a logical question and one he hated to admit the answer to. But it was either giving away how weak he was or losing the only chance he had.
"I'm not strong enough to cast a cloak so large, I can just about hide a small area, a room none but this can find." Well none but this seeking stone he was offering to the King and its twin that hung from his own throat. If all went to plan the artefact would be hidden and his own seeking stone destroyed, leaving the only way for it to be found in the hands of an immortal Woodland King.
The King's smile was slow and greedy but he hummed in understanding, his own fingers tapping on the wood table, the Thief knew he wanted to reach out, touch the gem but he kept his hands to himself. "You're sure I wouldn't just take the scripts and leave the artefact in your poor pathetic human world?"
"We have had many contracts before, I know you cannot lie, that you must stick to your word when given. I'm betting on the laws of your species keeping you bound to the contract"
The King hummed again, neither confirming nor denying as his head tipped back to the side. "And why not just bring it here yourself?"
The Thief sighed, looking up to the dark ceiling. He really wished there was a damn window in this place, he always felt like he had entered another realm once he had walked over the threshold. He would have enjoyed seeing the comforting streets of the Market, even if they were dark. "None can know i have it, it can't be traced back to me"
"And how do you suppose you'll stop them from invading your mind? Simply taking the knowledge they want?"
"I plan to forget"
That had the King sitting back once again, eyes large now and face cut off from emotion. Then he snorted a laugh that the Thief swore he had never heard once before in all the years he had sat in this same damn chair. "You humans really do amaze me sometimes. Destroying your memories won't be pleasant"
"I don't plan of living long enough for it to be a concern"
Another silence settled between them and for once the King did not smirk at him, did not jest or jab or twist into the parts that he knew he could cause pain. No, the King looked like a man who was thinking about what the Thief was willing to go through and felt the pain of those actions as though they were his own.
Finally the King sat forward, hand covering his and the gem on the table. "I will bring it to the market and in return you will leave the scroll teaching me how to make the invisibility cloak."
The Thief sighed, pulling his hand from underneath the Kings. "The deal is the deal."
"The deal is the deal" the immortal mimicked and like that the contract was signed.
With that the Thief rose, nodded once and walked to the door. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, taking in the room for what he knew would be the last time. "I'll try to visit every day, if I don't then it's your turn to look." then he was twisting the door open.
The King stopped him from stepping out into the dark square by calling his birth name, a name he had freely given and one that hadn't been used against him. No, they were known as King and Thief to each other, all they had ever been. But there was a time, after years of talking to one another when names had been swapped in hushed tones and in a place where knowledge was money both knew that no price would be worth breaking that trust.
He looked back at the king now, knowing his name would be one he would forget, another thing he would burn from his memories when the time came.
The King looked back at him, his amber eyes unreadable, maybe this was as close as the immortal had ever come to a friendship. "No regrets, no remorse, no repentance" he said the easy mantra they had heard again and again in the market, one that had been said to the Thief numerous times, never had it felt quite so final as this one.
He nodded, mouth ticking up slightly at the corner. "No mourners"
"I will keep you in my memory for as long as my heart beats within this world"
"You were a good friend"
"We were never friends"
"You were mine," he said, nodding once more to the King. "It will be a shame to forget you. Be well King of the Whispering Woods"