Chapter Two
Belgaer stifled a yawn as he headed down the main road to his blacksmith shop. The sun had just risen, but already there were people bustling around the streets. Such was a day in Belisaere.
A young woman peered at him from the side of the street, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously. Belgaer flashed her a smile before he disappeared into the crowd.
Truly, he was handsome. His tan skin was dark in the summer sun and his wavy, light brown hair attracted many looks from the ladies of the city. But, Belgaer grumble in his mind, that's before they hear me speak.
Long had Belgaer been known for his head-strong, highly opinionated mindset. Ever since he was a boy, he had been stubborn. When given orders, there was always a tendency for the young man to run off and do whatever he wanted instead. It was a chance taken when dealing with Belgaer.
Unfortunately, he was one of the best blacksmiths in the entire city. People had to deal with him if they wanted something fixed of made. But, Belgaer didn't care. It was a risk they were taking, not him.
"Master Belgaer," a humble voice said as he entered the small shop he had set up. "A message came for you yesterday evening. I did not want to disturb you so-"
"What's the message, Krucail?" Belgaer asked, interrupting the old man. Many months before, the old man had staggered into his shop, seeking work and food. Belgaer-despite what people had thought of him-took the man in.
"A man came in after you left, telling you to be looking for a lady in white." Krucail's face scrunched up in confusion as he went on. "He said she would be coming with others to-"
"You really should stop listening to the drunks, Krucail, " Belgaer told him absently. He walked over to his worktable and took out a hammer.
"He was quite somber, sir," Krucail replied. "The lady will be coming soon, he said, and she would seek you out."
"Plenty of ladies seek me out," Belgaer told him arrogantly. The old man didn't seem to notice. "One lady won't be any more special than the other."
"I don't know, Master Belgaer." Krucail's tone was hesitant, rethinking the mysterious visitor last night. "He left this." Krucail's hand went into his robes and he pulled out a thin slip of parchment.
Belgaer set down his hammer and looked at the paper. "It's a circle," he said simply, giving a shrug. "A circle and a triangle inside. A toddler's doodling."
Krucail didn't seem convinced, but he didn't question Belgaer's assumption. It wasn't his place to do so and he wouldn't voice any doubt he had in his mind. The old man knew full well that it would only go in one of Belgaer's ears and out the other.
*** *** ***
"I am getting entirely too old for this," the thief grumbled, disregarding the fact that he was only twenty-two. His fingers ran through his dirty blonde hair that had streaked brown in the summer sun. He knelt down beside the door and began picking the lock with careful hands.
After only a few seconds of trying, there was a soft click and Yrael the thief grinned. Now for the fun part, he thought. In a silence that had been perfected over years of practice, he stalked across the room to the chest that sat in the dark corner.
The chest had been heavily guarded, but Yrael was ever up to a challenge. He had gotten past hundreds of locks this evening and at least ten magical wards, invisible barriers of this Free Magic, as the people was calling it.
Rubbing his hands together, he bent down and opened the chest. Gold flashed before his eyes. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires-all for the taking! Yrael's eyes sparkled.
Licking his lips eagerly, he began to scoop handfuls of gold into his satchel. Gold coins streaming from his palms as he let them slide into his bag. He was smiling now, far too happy to worry about stealth. The clinking of the coins was worth it.
Yrael scooped through the chest, searching for any other valuable jewelry. He found a necklace of pearls, but disregarded it. Pearls weren't his type. His eyes caught something twinkling. Yes, rubies were definitely his type.
"Stop, thief!" Yrael's head shot up as ten guards came bustling into the room. Yrael's eyes narrowed; he hadn't even heard the guards approach.
"What?" he asked innocently, dumping the last handful of jewels into his bag. "Me?"
"Yrael the thief," a man voiced triumphantly, stepping forward. Yrael's heart plummeted. He had trouble now.
"Kealei the Killer," Yrael smirked, standing up, the bag in his hands. Kealei's victorious smile faded.
"I kill only those who deserve it," he replied.
"I bet," Yrael drawled. "The captain of the guards is simply full of justice and good intentions." He carefully took a step away from the guards. Kealei laughed.
"Yrael!" he laughed. "Don't even bother. There's no way out. The Royal Thief has been captured!" Yrael winced at his nickname being used to sarcastically.
"Captured?" Yrael asked smartly. He felt a lump in his throat. This was the last card he had to play and his only chance. Kealei smiled, nodding. Slowly he drew his sword, as if savoring the moment.
"Captured, you say?" Yrael asked, buying himself time. He twisted his mouth into a sly grin. Without any warning, light exploded in the dark room, throwing all the guards off their feet. They dropped their swords to shield their eyes and Yrael, despite the situation, had to laugh.
"Captured is such a loose word, Kealei," he boomed. Free Magic burned the air. "Best to leave it unspoken." With that, the Royal Thief Yrael glided swiftly through the door, nothing more than a gleaming shimmer of white light.
Yrael stayed just long enough to hear Kealei shout one final damning curse at him and scream at his guards to get on their feet.
Belgaer stifled a yawn as he headed down the main road to his blacksmith shop. The sun had just risen, but already there were people bustling around the streets. Such was a day in Belisaere.
A young woman peered at him from the side of the street, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously. Belgaer flashed her a smile before he disappeared into the crowd.
Truly, he was handsome. His tan skin was dark in the summer sun and his wavy, light brown hair attracted many looks from the ladies of the city. But, Belgaer grumble in his mind, that's before they hear me speak.
Long had Belgaer been known for his head-strong, highly opinionated mindset. Ever since he was a boy, he had been stubborn. When given orders, there was always a tendency for the young man to run off and do whatever he wanted instead. It was a chance taken when dealing with Belgaer.
Unfortunately, he was one of the best blacksmiths in the entire city. People had to deal with him if they wanted something fixed of made. But, Belgaer didn't care. It was a risk they were taking, not him.
"Master Belgaer," a humble voice said as he entered the small shop he had set up. "A message came for you yesterday evening. I did not want to disturb you so-"
"What's the message, Krucail?" Belgaer asked, interrupting the old man. Many months before, the old man had staggered into his shop, seeking work and food. Belgaer-despite what people had thought of him-took the man in.
"A man came in after you left, telling you to be looking for a lady in white." Krucail's face scrunched up in confusion as he went on. "He said she would be coming with others to-"
"You really should stop listening to the drunks, Krucail, " Belgaer told him absently. He walked over to his worktable and took out a hammer.
"He was quite somber, sir," Krucail replied. "The lady will be coming soon, he said, and she would seek you out."
"Plenty of ladies seek me out," Belgaer told him arrogantly. The old man didn't seem to notice. "One lady won't be any more special than the other."
"I don't know, Master Belgaer." Krucail's tone was hesitant, rethinking the mysterious visitor last night. "He left this." Krucail's hand went into his robes and he pulled out a thin slip of parchment.
Belgaer set down his hammer and looked at the paper. "It's a circle," he said simply, giving a shrug. "A circle and a triangle inside. A toddler's doodling."
Krucail didn't seem convinced, but he didn't question Belgaer's assumption. It wasn't his place to do so and he wouldn't voice any doubt he had in his mind. The old man knew full well that it would only go in one of Belgaer's ears and out the other.
*** *** ***
"I am getting entirely too old for this," the thief grumbled, disregarding the fact that he was only twenty-two. His fingers ran through his dirty blonde hair that had streaked brown in the summer sun. He knelt down beside the door and began picking the lock with careful hands.
After only a few seconds of trying, there was a soft click and Yrael the thief grinned. Now for the fun part, he thought. In a silence that had been perfected over years of practice, he stalked across the room to the chest that sat in the dark corner.
The chest had been heavily guarded, but Yrael was ever up to a challenge. He had gotten past hundreds of locks this evening and at least ten magical wards, invisible barriers of this Free Magic, as the people was calling it.
Rubbing his hands together, he bent down and opened the chest. Gold flashed before his eyes. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires-all for the taking! Yrael's eyes sparkled.
Licking his lips eagerly, he began to scoop handfuls of gold into his satchel. Gold coins streaming from his palms as he let them slide into his bag. He was smiling now, far too happy to worry about stealth. The clinking of the coins was worth it.
Yrael scooped through the chest, searching for any other valuable jewelry. He found a necklace of pearls, but disregarded it. Pearls weren't his type. His eyes caught something twinkling. Yes, rubies were definitely his type.
"Stop, thief!" Yrael's head shot up as ten guards came bustling into the room. Yrael's eyes narrowed; he hadn't even heard the guards approach.
"What?" he asked innocently, dumping the last handful of jewels into his bag. "Me?"
"Yrael the thief," a man voiced triumphantly, stepping forward. Yrael's heart plummeted. He had trouble now.
"Kealei the Killer," Yrael smirked, standing up, the bag in his hands. Kealei's victorious smile faded.
"I kill only those who deserve it," he replied.
"I bet," Yrael drawled. "The captain of the guards is simply full of justice and good intentions." He carefully took a step away from the guards. Kealei laughed.
"Yrael!" he laughed. "Don't even bother. There's no way out. The Royal Thief has been captured!" Yrael winced at his nickname being used to sarcastically.
"Captured?" Yrael asked smartly. He felt a lump in his throat. This was the last card he had to play and his only chance. Kealei smiled, nodding. Slowly he drew his sword, as if savoring the moment.
"Captured, you say?" Yrael asked, buying himself time. He twisted his mouth into a sly grin. Without any warning, light exploded in the dark room, throwing all the guards off their feet. They dropped their swords to shield their eyes and Yrael, despite the situation, had to laugh.
"Captured is such a loose word, Kealei," he boomed. Free Magic burned the air. "Best to leave it unspoken." With that, the Royal Thief Yrael glided swiftly through the door, nothing more than a gleaming shimmer of white light.
Yrael stayed just long enough to hear Kealei shout one final damning curse at him and scream at his guards to get on their feet.