Shade: @_@ **passed out on the floor from being shaken too hard**
Garren: **poking her with a long stick** Damn. She's gone. **shruggs** Oh well, it's my turn to do some of the work around here anyways.
Ragnarok: About damn time.
Garren's POV:
I glanced out the window at the rain slowly pooling on the street in the light of the sputtering torches in front of the inn. It was almost midnight, and Dart still hadn't returned. Normally this wouldn't bother me; it wasn't uncommon for Dart to disappear altogether for a night or two and then reappear back in his bed a few mornings later. But tonight I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong. Unsure of what to do, I sat in a corner table of the tavern, pushing the leftovers of my third plate of watery stew around my plate with a dull knife.
Behind me, two old men dressed in the pale brown garb of townsmen sat tilted back in their chairs smoking pipes. "I'd be careful if I were you tonight, Bard," One of the old men advised the other. "The thieves are out in full force tonight." He tapped his pipe against the table, knocking out some of the ash onto the floorboards.
"I know," Bard coughed, banging on his chest with his fist. "That arrest the knighthood made earlier this afternoon must have made them angry. They're getting careless, all out running around in the street at once like this." He shook his head. "So what's the knighthood planing to do about it?"
His companion shrugged, then leaned back even farther in his chair, craning his neck around to look at a red-liveried young man with tousled hair. "Hey, John! You heard the question! What's your father planning to do about this one?"
John jumped, then turned to glower at the haggard old man. "You just mind your own business, Mynn. What my father does with his knighthood tonight, or on any night for that matter, is of no concern to you commoners." Huffily, John turned back to his meal.
"Bah, nobles," Mynn snorted, turning around in his seat again. "They're the same wherever you go. Act as though they have all the secrets in the world tucked up their sleeves." Pausing, he put down his pipe and took a long drink from his tankard. "Bet they've finally located the Thieves Guild headquarters."
Pushing away my knife and plate, I stood up and headed back to the inn in the upper levels of the tavern. The talk in the taprooms of inns was usually interesting, but it always became repetitive after a few hours. Anyhow, I reminded myself as I twisted the brass doorknob and pushed open the door to Dart's room, I wanted to see if my friend was back from his wandering yet.
But the room was empty, apparently undisturbed since my companion had left earlier that morning. The sheets on the bed where rumpled and unmade, and the wicked looking sword Dart normally carried while we traveled was standing propped in the corner, wrapped in a sheath of tough oiled leather. Dart had stopped carrying the ornate weapon soon after we had come to Lohan; it attracted too much attention from the always eager street merchants. Instead he left it here in his quarters while he went about his business. At first I had worried that someone might just walk in and steal it, but Dart assured me that no one would even notice it. I had suspicions that Ragnarok had a hand in this, a suspicion inspired in part by the almost tangible magical aura surrounding the ancient weapon. Curious, I walked over to the sword and picked it up, letting the leather fall away as I did so. However, almost as soon as I picket it up, I let it fall to the floor with a yelp. The hilt was wrapped in a sharp, almost bladed piece of silver wire that bit painfully into my hand when I tried to lift it. Glancing down at my palm, I was surprised to see cuts in the leather of my glove. Dart hadn't been kidding when he told me that he was the only one that could wield this sword. The wire alone, fixed permanently into the hilt, would be enough to keep the average person from picking it up out of idle curiosity. Never mind the fact that anyone who tried to use this sword without Ragnarok's explicit permission would probably end up maiming their person.
"Maybe he's still hanging out around the temple," I mused to myself, walking over and pushing open the wooden shutters that hung loosely on the window frame. I started to pull myself up onto the sill, then paused and jumped back down. Crossing back over to the sword, I wrapped it tightly in the leather once more and tucked it under my arm, being careful not to touch the hilt. Climbing onto the sill once more, I glanced down at the streets below. They were for the most part deserted; here and there the occasional wary eyed merchant trotted through the rain back to their homes, jealously guarding their treasures from another day of barter and exchange. Inevitably they were followed at a short distance by silent figures that crept along through the shadows, patiently awaiting the chance to take their share of the merchant's hard-won spoils of war. Hopping off the ledge and into the air, I hovered for a moment before ghosting up through the rain and onto the roof.
On the roof rainwater streamed over the loose shingles, causing them to slip out from underfoot, or to just refuse to tolerate any weight at all and send me sliding to my knees. When I had repeated this action four or five times, I finally got fed up with walking and simply teleported myself to the next roof. This course of action proved to be much more efficient, and I jumped rapidly from one rooftop to the next without pause. In fact, this method gave me almost no trouble at all until after one warp, when I reappeared rather suddenly atop the roof of the building nearest the temple. That would have been fine, had I not also landed on top of the poor young man who had been making his way across that roof at the very same instant.
"Arrghhh."
"Ack! Sorry!" I rolled off the flattened individual and tried to help him to his feet.
Fortunately, he seemed to recover quickly. Climbing to his feet, he pulled his soaking cloak more tightly about himself. "What'd you do that for?" He snapped irritably, taking a couple quick steps back from me.
So much for the fortunate part. Maybe it would be better if he'd been knocked out when I landed on him. I scowled back at him. "Well sorry for you getting in my way! Maybe next time you should think twice before you go running across rooftops at night, huh?"
"You shouldn't have been using that tele-crap magic you winglies are so fond of! That's going to be outlawed because of dolts like you, you know that?" Still grumbling, the young man scooped up the bundle he'd dropped and stalked off, ducking into an open window and disappearing into the upper stories of the building.
Turning on heel, I stomped off, more than a little irritated by the young man's behavior. Unfortunately, stomping about on a wet roof isn't the most intelligent thing to do. After about five steps or so the shingle I happened to stomp on slid out of place, dumping me unceremoniously onto my side. With my ear pressed to the roof as it was, I could hear an elderly voice from somewhere in the room below yelling his protests to the noise. Muttering to myself, I got to my feet, retrieved Dart's sword from where I had dropped it and cautiously made my way across the remainder of the roof. Pausing at the edge, I caught hold of a narrow smokestack to steady myself and leaned out over the edge, scanning the roofs of the buildings surrounding the temple. Nothing. I half turned away, but at that moment the glint of metal caught my eye on a roof across the square. Curious, I re- adjusted the sword under my arm and hopped off of the roof, flitting quickly across the intervening space and landing lightly on the aforementioned rooftop.
Rainwater had begun to pool in the dips of the poorly constructed roof, the surface of the pools ever changing as the falling rain sent little ripples across it. Lying half in and half out of one such pool was an unmoving huddle of cloth, a mop of soaking blond hair hardly to be seen against all of the black. Rushing over, I flipped Dart onto his back, noting with relief that he was still breathing, although his skin was cold to the touch from lying in the downpour for so long. Unsure of what to do next, I paused. Now what? Back in Ulara, nothing like this had ever happened while I was around. And the one time I had seen a fainted person revived, it had been by plunging their head into a barrel of cold water and holding it there until they re-awoke. I glanced up at the dark sky, feeling the cold rain splash onto my upturned face. Somehow I didn't think that that particular method would work here.
However I was saved from having to invent my own previously untried method when Dart stirred. After lying dazedly on the shingles for a moment or two longer, he lurched onto his hands and knees, huge coughs wracking his entire body. When he finally stopped, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, wiping the blood from his lower lip.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." Dart replied, but his voice had the far away quality that usually indicates that his attention is somewhere else. Absently, he reached down to touch the carrier belt slung at his waist, an action, I thought, that he performed more out of habit than any real necessity. But now he froze, his face going, if possible, even whiter than it already was.
"Dart?" I asked uneasily, knowing full well what he had in all probability just discovered.
Dart's POV:
It was gone.
Stupidly, I checked for it again, but my waist was barren save for the worn brown leather of my sword belt. The heavy black studded belt that I used to carry the dragoon spirits was gone. Wonderful. This absolutely had to happen when Ark was on a reinforced vacation.
I reached for the mind of my foul tempered partner once again, but the answer was the same as last time. If he was there, then he wasn't answering. Reaching up, I pressed two fingers against the side of my neck, trying to find some sign of a pulse. I was strangely relieved when I found none. Since my heart had been replaced with the stone my pulse had disappeared, although what exactly that meant I had no idea. I had been without it for so long I almost had forgotten what it felt like. I guess I felt that as long as the stone was with me, Ragnarok was still hanging around somewhere.
"Dart?" Garren's voice was uneasy. I looked up. He stood restlessly, shifting from foot to foot, his silver hair shining wetly in the rain.
"It's gone." I stared out over the flickering lights of Lohan, not missing the furtive shapes flitting about silently in the shadows of the buildings lining the streets, prudently avoiding the pools of weak torchlight splashed over the cobbled streets. Thieves, going about their nightly business. Under most circumstances I would care less, but why now of all times did my business have to cross paths with theirs? "Did you happen to notice anyone on your way up here?"
Garren snorted, although he still looked nervous. "Almost flattened one guy as I was coming out of a warp on the roof across the square from here. He wasn't too pleased about it, I can tell you." He scratched his forehead reflectively. "He was carrying something though," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
"Could it have been the belt?"
"Maybe." He shrugged. "At any rate, we'll never catch him now. Last I saw him, he was going into one of those beehives that they call buildings. He could be halfway across town by now."
Well that was something at least. I was pretty sure that the belt had been stolen, and all thieves in Lohan were forced to report to the Thieves Guild. If we could just find the guild headquarters, we might be able to recover the spirits yet. But in order to find the guild headquarters we'd need to find a thief that would takes us there. And the chances of catching a thief that would lead us there were slim to almost nil. Almost.
Abruptly I turned back to face Garren again. "How well do you know your way around Lohan?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Could you warp us both to the compound where the Knighthood is stationed?"
"Easily, but why would you want to go there?" Garren asked, perplexed.
"There's someone there who I think might be able to help us."
"If you're sure." Garren said, "But you're going to have to take this. I've been lugging it around ever since I left the inn, and it's not exactly the easiest thing to carry." He held out a long bundle wrapped in tough scarred leather. Ragnarok's sword. I hesitated, then reached out and took hold of the barbed hilt. To my relief I felt no pain as the wire bit into my skin, nor did the sharp edges leave so much as a mark on my fingers. Whatever grievances Ark had about the argument, he was still willing to let me wield his blade for him. Clipping the weapon onto my swordbelt, I gripped Garren's shoulder tightly.
"Let's go."
The courtyard was shrouded in shadows, despite the fact that there were more torches lit here than anywhere else in the city. The darkness seemed to close in on the brands, smothering all but the feeblest attempts of flickering light. Even the windows of the barracks were dark; not one candle was lit inside the narrow building. I wondered at this silently as Garren and I crept through the deepest shadows against the wall of the compound towards the small grill fronted cells where the thieves and other break laws were kept. As we drew closer, I could dimly make out the huddled forms of the prisoners in the backs of their cells as even in their sleep they flinched away from the wetness outside. A few of them snuffled and groaned as they played through their dreams, but none gave any sign that they were aware of our approach. I paid no attention to the occupants of these cells. They weren't the ones I was here to see.
We found her in the last cell, closest to the barracks. The girl I had seen being dragged off the street earlier looked a little disheveled, but none the worse for her experiences with the Knighthood. At least, so far as I could see, she still had both of her hands.
"What are we stopping for?" Garren hissed from behind me. "Keep moving, or someone's gonna spot us!"
"This is who we came here for, Garren." I muttered, eyes fixed on the little girl's frail frame. "She's going to be our guide."
"A little shrimp like that?"
"She's our best option," I responded, uncovering my blade and pulling it free of its clasp. The cell grating was held in place by a heavy lock, rusted from years exposed to the elements. Setting the tip of my sword into the keyhole, I shoved hard and twisted it back and forth, trying to wrench the lock open. It worked, sort of. Actually, the blade split the lock clean in half. I paused, listening hard to make sure that my efforts hadn't awoken anyone, then grasped one of the crossbars of the grate tightly in both hands. "Help me," I told Garren through clenched teeth.
Together we managed to open the grate a foot or so without causing too much racket. I didn't dare risk any more than that. The rusty hinges creaked noisily with even the slightest movement, so I didn't want to open it any farther than I absolutely had to. With a whispered "Wait here," to Garren, I slipped into the cell.
Despite its seemingly damp appearance, the inside of the cell was surprisingly dry and warm, once one got far enough away from the door. As I approached, the little girl stirred, then sat up abruptly, eyes fixed accusingly on the sword I still carried loosely in one hand. I held up my free hand, finger to my lips for silence, then returned my blade to its customary resting place on my belt. The girl watched me suspiciously as I came closer, but didn't say a word until I crouched next to her on the stones. "Who are you?" She hissed, her voice bearly audible over the sound of the rain drumming on the roof.
"A friend, of sorts," I replied quietly. "Have they decided what they're going to do with you?"
For someone so young, the girl seemed mature well beyond her years. "Standard thieves punishment," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"I thought so. Bet you'd do anything to get out of it, right?" I tried to say it gently, but I couldn't help thinking that it sounded as though I was toying with her.
"I'm not looking forward to it, if that's what you mean." She looked closely at me, narrowing her eyes. "What are you getting at? You going to let me out?"
"Depends on whether or not you'll help us."
"That depends on what the favor is."
She was sharp, I had to admit. I paused, then dropped the bomb. "We need you to take us to the guild headquarters."
"Absolutely not." She stated flatly.
"Why not? We just need to retrieve something. It's not like we're going to betray you guys to the knighthood or anything like that."
"It goes against regulations. Anyone who brings a non-guild member to headquarters is to be expelled from the Guild for life." The girl snapped, even though it seemed to me as though she was repeating a formula she'd heard a million times before.
"Under no circumstances?"
"None what so ever."
"What if I were to tell you that the knighthood might already know the location of your headquarters already? And that they might be planning an attack on it tonight?" Garren said, slipping into the cell behind me. I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Why hadn't he mentioned this before now?
"What do you mean?" The girl asked, a note of panic sneaking into her voice.
"I mean exactly what I said." Garren moved so that he was blocking the exit. "Of course, I could be lying. There's no way I can prove to you that I'm telling the truth. But can you really afford to take that risk?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Think quickly."
He was acting again. Garren did that from time to time, I noticed. I looked at him closely, trying to tell if the story about the headquarters was a part of the tough guy act or not, but his face betrayed no secrets.
Apparently the girl didn't know what to think either. After thinking her options over for a moment or two, she glared at Garren. "I don't like you."
"I don't like you either." Garren retorted. "Now are you going to help us?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." I stood and lifted the kid to her feet. "What's you're name?"
"Amy." She pulled out of my grasp and resumed glaring at Garren. "Who're you?"
"I'm Ry," I told her, selecting a name at random, "And this is Garren."
"Strange names for strange people. What is it you want back from us, anyhow?"
"A belt." I said shortly.
"A belt?"
"Yes, a belt. Now are we going to stand around here all night, or are we going to actually do something tonight?"
Garren's POV:
I'm sure that there must have been a faster, more direct route to the headquarters, but if there was, Amy wasn't taking it. We wove through alleys, climbed over rooftops, and hurried through the honeycombed corridors of the merchant classes so for so long that soon I was quite lost. Which seemed to be exactly what the little thief had in mind. When she seemed sure that both Dart and I had no idea where we were, her route became more direct. When we finally stopped, we were in one of the hallways of the shop buildings. She turned to look at us, a stern expression on her face. "When we get in there, let me do the talking. Don't either of you say so much as a word." She glared at me again, then pushed open the door and stepped through.
The room inside was pretty much the typical needs shop. Salted and dried foods of different varieties lined the walls, and bolts of drab cloth leaned against the walls. Cheeses wrapped in rough brown cloth hung from the ceiling, giving the room a sort of dusky smell. Stepping around a large crate of russet apples, Amy walked up to the counter and rang the little bell to let the shopkeeper know she was there.
For a minute or two no one came, then a sandy-eyed shopkeeper staggered out of the back room. Evidently he knew our guide, because when he saw her, he scowled. "You had to wait until I was just about asleep, didn't you Amy?"
"Save it, Derryl. We both know that you have the rest of the week off anyhow. Now open the hatch."
Derryl glanced at Dart and I questioningly, but said nothing. Instead he led the three of us into an unused storeroom, it's walls bare of wares. Crouching, he began to fiddle with the latch on a large hatch set into the floor. It clicked and suddenly the hatch swung downward, revealing a large room underneath. Standing back, he wiped his eyes sleepily. "There you go, child. I imagine that they'll all be pleased to see that you're still in one piece. Don't forget to shut the hatch behind you." With one last suspicious look at Dart and myself, he disappeared from the room.
Amy was smiling openly now. With an agile little leap she disappeared through the hatchway, landing with a soft 'thump' on what I guessed must have been a heap of cloth. Dart glanced over at me, then lowered him self carefully through the hatch after her. Not really being able to think of anything else to do, I followed.
I will say that I've had better landings. This one wasn't exactly on scale with the time I accidentally landed in a fountain coming out of a warp, but it came close. As my feet came into contact with the slippery cloth my ankle buckled and bent under me, sending a shock of pain up through my shinbone and dumping me onto my back. I started to rise, but stopped when I felt a spear point pressing threateningly against my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Dart, although on his feet, was in a similar situation.
"Wait!" Amy pushed the spearhead aside. "They helped me escape from the knighthood! I promised that I'd give them something in exchange."
The grizzled man holding the spear hesitated, apparently unsure of what to do. "What do they want?"
"Something we took from them."
"What sort of thing?"
Amy wrinkled her nose. "A belt."
"A belt?"
"That's what they said."
"I don't believe them," snapped the woman who held a short sword to Dart's throat. "Why would they go through all this trouble just to get a belt? They're probably in league with the Knighthood." She pressed her blade closer to my friend's windpipe. "I say we just take them out of the deal once and for all."
"Cut that out, Yvette," came a voice from the back of the room, "We're thieves, not murderers. There's a difference, you know." There was a hesitation, then the voice continued. "Let them go. However lame their story may sound, there may actually be some truth to it."
As the spearhead lowered, I sat up and took my first good look around the room, now that I didn't feel compelled to think about pointy pieces of metal sticking into my throat. It was low ceilinged, with dark beams crisscrossing overhead. The air smelled faintly of tabacco smoke, and here and there oil-burning lamps hung from thin chains along the walls. Aside from the pile of blankets I now sat on the room was void of decoration, although the number of doors leading off into darkened corridors made me feel as though I was sitting in the middle of a rabbit warren. We must be below the ground level, I realized. There was no other way that there could be a set up like this without anyone noticing.
The man who had called off the aggressors stood in the back of the room, a small, oil lantern burning faintly in his left hand. He was dressed in the bright silks usually worn by the upper classes of Lohan, a bright red silk robe belted at the waist with a sash of black satin and leather sandals on his feet. He had long, shoulder length gray hair that would have hung down to about his shoulders had it not been pulled back into a ponytail. Note that I only said he had gray hair. This man couldn't have been much more than thirty years of age. Raising his lantern the man stepped towards us, watching our faces intently. "I must thank you two for rescuing Amy from the knighthood," he said quietly, "however strange your motive for doing so may seem. Ever since her parents died in a house fire three years ago, I've raised her as my daughter. I honestly don't know what I would have done had you not returned her." He paused, then brushed a strand of stray hair back out of his face. "My name is Martin," he said, bowing. "As you may have guessed, I am the head of this little organization. There is not one thief in Lohan that has not at some point taken orders from me, and not one item stolen that I do not know about. Come." Martin motioned for us to follow him, then started towards the back of the room. "A belt, you say?"
"Yes."
"It must have been a rather remarkable one, if one of my men bothered stealing. Although they must be credited for their skill if they managed to steal it off you with having you notice until later." Martin selected a door and pushed it open.
Dart actually managed to look somewhat embarrassed. "I was unconscious at the time."
"Oh," Our guide led us down a long, unlighted passageway, while Amy followed behind. The two who had been waving weapons in our faces had remained back to guard the hatch, I guessed. We walked along in silence until a second door finally appeared in the watery pool of light cast by Martin's lantern. Reaching into the sash at his waist, Martin drew out an old, beaten brass key and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he motioned that we should go inside.
Two rooms couldn't have been more different from one another. Whereas the room we had just left was dark, somewhat dank, and chilly, the room in which we now stood looked more like a nobleman's sitting room than a thieves den. The walls were paneled with a rich, full grained wood and covered with woven tapestries depicting the history of Serdio. Shimmering braziers radiated warmth from their places along the wall, and thick plush carpets covered the floor. The room was strewn with various types of furniture; men and women lounged upon most of these, drowsing quietly in the warmth of the nearest brazier. Here and there one or two men were still awake enough to play dice, although no one seemed to be keeping score. They glanced over and nodded to Martin when he entered, but other than that gave no sign that they even knew we were here.
Martin surveyed the room, a slight smile on his features. "My family," he whispered to us by way of introduction. "For the most part they are castaways; orphans who have no home, or men and woman who are simply down on their luck and have no other way of supporting themselves. All of them, however, are as good or better than any other merchant in the city when it comes to their business. Which is usually taking someone else's." Stepping carefully over a sleeping child curled up on a pillow on the floor, Martin crossed the room to where a familiar, sour faced young man slept on a couch. Gently, he tapped the man on the head. "Brin, wake up. You've got some visitors."
"Grrumssmm." Brin rolled over to look blearily at us through sleepy eyes. "Wha?"
I waved at him cheerily, managing to pull off a fair imitation of Charle in the process. "Wakey, wakey!"
Brin sat bolt upright, glaring at me. "You!"
Martin glanced at his friend. "You know this man?"
"This is the idiot I told you about who almost flattened me on the rooftops earlier tonight!" Brin snarled. All around us, the sleeping thieves were beginning to stir. "What in the name of Soa is he doing here?"
"I understand that you took something of mine," Dart said, stepping forward, "We did a favor for Amy and I'd like my belt back as payment."
Brin's eyes narrowed, and his hand went to his waist. Dart's belt was wrapped loosely around his middle. "Why should I? I kind of like it."
"Give it back." Dart said quietly, his voice taking a slight edge to it. "If you don't, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist." He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Brin glanced about nervously, first at Dart's sword, then back to his eyes that looked only slightly less dangerous by comparison. Last of all he looked at Martin, who simply shrugged, then nodded. Spitting bitterly in the nearest brazier, the thief stood and pulled off the belt. "Here, take it." He turned to leave, but was halted by Dart's hand grabbing his shoulder. "Wait a moment. Aren't you forgetting something?" Before the thief had a chance to answer, Dart lifted the belt. "There were five gemstones in these holders on the belt. Where are they?"
Brin started to answer, but he was cut off as the door leading from the room with the hatchway banged open and Yvette rushed in.
"Everybody run! The Knighthood's found the hatchway!"
Immediately the room sprung to life. Children were roused from slumber and swept up into their parent's arms to escape, possessions were hastily grabbed and shoved into pockets and bags, and there was a general rush for the two doors that led, I guessed, deeper into the rabbit warren.
Amid the confusion, however, one person acted with a perfectly clear mind. Grabbing one fist in the other, Brin stepped behind Dart and smashed him hard across the back of his head, using his two fists like a club. Dart's eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor, for the second time that night knocked unconscious. Not wasting any time, Brin rushed towards the nearest door.
"Bastard!" I yelled, but instead I crouched next to Dart and shook him hard. "C'mon! Get up!"
"Stop that," Dart snarled, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. I drew back, startled, before I recognized the voice. Ragnarok was in control. I moved prudently out of the way as he shuddered again and pulled himself to his feet.
Ragnarok's POV:
You can not even begin to understand the frustration I felt when Dart was able to surpress me that night. In all the years that I had been partnered to him, I'd almost always been able to get him to comply with my wishes, or if nothing else, bend him to my will. But that night, standing on the rooftop overlooking a crowd of cultist fanatics, he'd somehow managed to find the strength to resist me. Stupid human morals. The chance to permanently injure the cult had been there before our eyes, and yet because of him I'd been able to do nothing.
Unfortunately, the boy doesn't always know his own strength. He didn't exactly banish me permanently from his mind, but he came close. I was forced to the absolute edge of his awareness, so far from his normal way of thinking that he wasn't even aware that I was still there. I guess I could have come back earlier, but in all truth, I wanted him to realize exactly what he had done. I guess in human terms it might be called childish, but I knew that if he suffered from this in some way then he wouldn't be likely to try it again, even though the pain he'd experienced while resisting me would probably be enough to deter him from doing that again.
So you can imagine my elation when I felt his mind slip once again into unconsciousness. I hadn't been able to take control when this had happened earlier, but now that the restrictions he'd placed on me had seemed to have disappeared-
Catching up to the man Dart's memory told me was named Brin, I grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his neck and jerked him none too gently onto his back. Snarling, I crouched over him and closed my hand around his throat. "Where are the stones?" I demanded. When he didn't answer right away, I grabbed him by the hand and twisted his wrist around. "I asked you, where are they?"
Panicking, he started to talk very rapidly, his words bubbling out one over the other. "Okay! I'll tell! Just stop-arrgh! Stop it!" As I lessened the pressure, he took a breath. "They're in that bag at my waist. Take them! Just let me go!"
Still holding tightly to his wrist, I tore the bag free. Jerking him to his feet, I shoved him towards the door. "Get out of my sight."
When the last of the thieves had left the room, I loosened the drawstring on the bag and began to pull out the stones and return them to their resting place on the carrier belt. Behind me I could hear Garren pacing about the room, although he said nothing. As immature as that wingly may be, he does have more than smoke between his ears. He could tell I was angry. And like any sensible creature with half a brain, he was staying out of my way.
I had just replaced the last of the spirits and was refastening the belt when the first of the knighthood burst into the room. They halted, apparently surprised at what they had found. "I bet you're wondering where the thieves went, aren't you gentlemen." I said, not looking up from my work. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that you just missed them." Pulling the leather tight into the buckle, I glanced over at Garren. "There's no point in you sticking around. Wait outside the town gates. I won't be long."
Garren hesitated, apparently sizing up the knights, then shrugged. "If that's the way you want to do it. Try not to kill to many of them" He reminded and disappeared in a flash of green light.
Turning around so that I was facing the knights, I drew my sword. "Only seven of you?" I asked, watching as they fanned out until they were surrounding me in a semi-circle. "Where's the rest of your knighthood? Pity. I was hoping for some entertainment." Lifting my blade, I ran my tongue along the edge of it. "Oh well. I guess you'll have to do."
SHADE IS A PROCASTINATOR!
Yes, yes I am. I guess I could pass it off as several consecutive cases of writers' block, but that big 'P' word up there would probably be the truth of the matter.
If I can throw off my further procrastination urges and keep myself away from that beautiful machine that they call the Play Station 2, then I hope to have the first side story posted for Easter Monday. I don't know if I can find the time to get it done, but I'll tell you after I've finished.
Garren: **poking her with a long stick** Damn. She's gone. **shruggs** Oh well, it's my turn to do some of the work around here anyways.
Ragnarok: About damn time.
Garren's POV:
I glanced out the window at the rain slowly pooling on the street in the light of the sputtering torches in front of the inn. It was almost midnight, and Dart still hadn't returned. Normally this wouldn't bother me; it wasn't uncommon for Dart to disappear altogether for a night or two and then reappear back in his bed a few mornings later. But tonight I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong. Unsure of what to do, I sat in a corner table of the tavern, pushing the leftovers of my third plate of watery stew around my plate with a dull knife.
Behind me, two old men dressed in the pale brown garb of townsmen sat tilted back in their chairs smoking pipes. "I'd be careful if I were you tonight, Bard," One of the old men advised the other. "The thieves are out in full force tonight." He tapped his pipe against the table, knocking out some of the ash onto the floorboards.
"I know," Bard coughed, banging on his chest with his fist. "That arrest the knighthood made earlier this afternoon must have made them angry. They're getting careless, all out running around in the street at once like this." He shook his head. "So what's the knighthood planing to do about it?"
His companion shrugged, then leaned back even farther in his chair, craning his neck around to look at a red-liveried young man with tousled hair. "Hey, John! You heard the question! What's your father planning to do about this one?"
John jumped, then turned to glower at the haggard old man. "You just mind your own business, Mynn. What my father does with his knighthood tonight, or on any night for that matter, is of no concern to you commoners." Huffily, John turned back to his meal.
"Bah, nobles," Mynn snorted, turning around in his seat again. "They're the same wherever you go. Act as though they have all the secrets in the world tucked up their sleeves." Pausing, he put down his pipe and took a long drink from his tankard. "Bet they've finally located the Thieves Guild headquarters."
Pushing away my knife and plate, I stood up and headed back to the inn in the upper levels of the tavern. The talk in the taprooms of inns was usually interesting, but it always became repetitive after a few hours. Anyhow, I reminded myself as I twisted the brass doorknob and pushed open the door to Dart's room, I wanted to see if my friend was back from his wandering yet.
But the room was empty, apparently undisturbed since my companion had left earlier that morning. The sheets on the bed where rumpled and unmade, and the wicked looking sword Dart normally carried while we traveled was standing propped in the corner, wrapped in a sheath of tough oiled leather. Dart had stopped carrying the ornate weapon soon after we had come to Lohan; it attracted too much attention from the always eager street merchants. Instead he left it here in his quarters while he went about his business. At first I had worried that someone might just walk in and steal it, but Dart assured me that no one would even notice it. I had suspicions that Ragnarok had a hand in this, a suspicion inspired in part by the almost tangible magical aura surrounding the ancient weapon. Curious, I walked over to the sword and picked it up, letting the leather fall away as I did so. However, almost as soon as I picket it up, I let it fall to the floor with a yelp. The hilt was wrapped in a sharp, almost bladed piece of silver wire that bit painfully into my hand when I tried to lift it. Glancing down at my palm, I was surprised to see cuts in the leather of my glove. Dart hadn't been kidding when he told me that he was the only one that could wield this sword. The wire alone, fixed permanently into the hilt, would be enough to keep the average person from picking it up out of idle curiosity. Never mind the fact that anyone who tried to use this sword without Ragnarok's explicit permission would probably end up maiming their person.
"Maybe he's still hanging out around the temple," I mused to myself, walking over and pushing open the wooden shutters that hung loosely on the window frame. I started to pull myself up onto the sill, then paused and jumped back down. Crossing back over to the sword, I wrapped it tightly in the leather once more and tucked it under my arm, being careful not to touch the hilt. Climbing onto the sill once more, I glanced down at the streets below. They were for the most part deserted; here and there the occasional wary eyed merchant trotted through the rain back to their homes, jealously guarding their treasures from another day of barter and exchange. Inevitably they were followed at a short distance by silent figures that crept along through the shadows, patiently awaiting the chance to take their share of the merchant's hard-won spoils of war. Hopping off the ledge and into the air, I hovered for a moment before ghosting up through the rain and onto the roof.
On the roof rainwater streamed over the loose shingles, causing them to slip out from underfoot, or to just refuse to tolerate any weight at all and send me sliding to my knees. When I had repeated this action four or five times, I finally got fed up with walking and simply teleported myself to the next roof. This course of action proved to be much more efficient, and I jumped rapidly from one rooftop to the next without pause. In fact, this method gave me almost no trouble at all until after one warp, when I reappeared rather suddenly atop the roof of the building nearest the temple. That would have been fine, had I not also landed on top of the poor young man who had been making his way across that roof at the very same instant.
"Arrghhh."
"Ack! Sorry!" I rolled off the flattened individual and tried to help him to his feet.
Fortunately, he seemed to recover quickly. Climbing to his feet, he pulled his soaking cloak more tightly about himself. "What'd you do that for?" He snapped irritably, taking a couple quick steps back from me.
So much for the fortunate part. Maybe it would be better if he'd been knocked out when I landed on him. I scowled back at him. "Well sorry for you getting in my way! Maybe next time you should think twice before you go running across rooftops at night, huh?"
"You shouldn't have been using that tele-crap magic you winglies are so fond of! That's going to be outlawed because of dolts like you, you know that?" Still grumbling, the young man scooped up the bundle he'd dropped and stalked off, ducking into an open window and disappearing into the upper stories of the building.
Turning on heel, I stomped off, more than a little irritated by the young man's behavior. Unfortunately, stomping about on a wet roof isn't the most intelligent thing to do. After about five steps or so the shingle I happened to stomp on slid out of place, dumping me unceremoniously onto my side. With my ear pressed to the roof as it was, I could hear an elderly voice from somewhere in the room below yelling his protests to the noise. Muttering to myself, I got to my feet, retrieved Dart's sword from where I had dropped it and cautiously made my way across the remainder of the roof. Pausing at the edge, I caught hold of a narrow smokestack to steady myself and leaned out over the edge, scanning the roofs of the buildings surrounding the temple. Nothing. I half turned away, but at that moment the glint of metal caught my eye on a roof across the square. Curious, I re- adjusted the sword under my arm and hopped off of the roof, flitting quickly across the intervening space and landing lightly on the aforementioned rooftop.
Rainwater had begun to pool in the dips of the poorly constructed roof, the surface of the pools ever changing as the falling rain sent little ripples across it. Lying half in and half out of one such pool was an unmoving huddle of cloth, a mop of soaking blond hair hardly to be seen against all of the black. Rushing over, I flipped Dart onto his back, noting with relief that he was still breathing, although his skin was cold to the touch from lying in the downpour for so long. Unsure of what to do next, I paused. Now what? Back in Ulara, nothing like this had ever happened while I was around. And the one time I had seen a fainted person revived, it had been by plunging their head into a barrel of cold water and holding it there until they re-awoke. I glanced up at the dark sky, feeling the cold rain splash onto my upturned face. Somehow I didn't think that that particular method would work here.
However I was saved from having to invent my own previously untried method when Dart stirred. After lying dazedly on the shingles for a moment or two longer, he lurched onto his hands and knees, huge coughs wracking his entire body. When he finally stopped, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, wiping the blood from his lower lip.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." Dart replied, but his voice had the far away quality that usually indicates that his attention is somewhere else. Absently, he reached down to touch the carrier belt slung at his waist, an action, I thought, that he performed more out of habit than any real necessity. But now he froze, his face going, if possible, even whiter than it already was.
"Dart?" I asked uneasily, knowing full well what he had in all probability just discovered.
Dart's POV:
It was gone.
Stupidly, I checked for it again, but my waist was barren save for the worn brown leather of my sword belt. The heavy black studded belt that I used to carry the dragoon spirits was gone. Wonderful. This absolutely had to happen when Ark was on a reinforced vacation.
I reached for the mind of my foul tempered partner once again, but the answer was the same as last time. If he was there, then he wasn't answering. Reaching up, I pressed two fingers against the side of my neck, trying to find some sign of a pulse. I was strangely relieved when I found none. Since my heart had been replaced with the stone my pulse had disappeared, although what exactly that meant I had no idea. I had been without it for so long I almost had forgotten what it felt like. I guess I felt that as long as the stone was with me, Ragnarok was still hanging around somewhere.
"Dart?" Garren's voice was uneasy. I looked up. He stood restlessly, shifting from foot to foot, his silver hair shining wetly in the rain.
"It's gone." I stared out over the flickering lights of Lohan, not missing the furtive shapes flitting about silently in the shadows of the buildings lining the streets, prudently avoiding the pools of weak torchlight splashed over the cobbled streets. Thieves, going about their nightly business. Under most circumstances I would care less, but why now of all times did my business have to cross paths with theirs? "Did you happen to notice anyone on your way up here?"
Garren snorted, although he still looked nervous. "Almost flattened one guy as I was coming out of a warp on the roof across the square from here. He wasn't too pleased about it, I can tell you." He scratched his forehead reflectively. "He was carrying something though," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
"Could it have been the belt?"
"Maybe." He shrugged. "At any rate, we'll never catch him now. Last I saw him, he was going into one of those beehives that they call buildings. He could be halfway across town by now."
Well that was something at least. I was pretty sure that the belt had been stolen, and all thieves in Lohan were forced to report to the Thieves Guild. If we could just find the guild headquarters, we might be able to recover the spirits yet. But in order to find the guild headquarters we'd need to find a thief that would takes us there. And the chances of catching a thief that would lead us there were slim to almost nil. Almost.
Abruptly I turned back to face Garren again. "How well do you know your way around Lohan?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Could you warp us both to the compound where the Knighthood is stationed?"
"Easily, but why would you want to go there?" Garren asked, perplexed.
"There's someone there who I think might be able to help us."
"If you're sure." Garren said, "But you're going to have to take this. I've been lugging it around ever since I left the inn, and it's not exactly the easiest thing to carry." He held out a long bundle wrapped in tough scarred leather. Ragnarok's sword. I hesitated, then reached out and took hold of the barbed hilt. To my relief I felt no pain as the wire bit into my skin, nor did the sharp edges leave so much as a mark on my fingers. Whatever grievances Ark had about the argument, he was still willing to let me wield his blade for him. Clipping the weapon onto my swordbelt, I gripped Garren's shoulder tightly.
"Let's go."
The courtyard was shrouded in shadows, despite the fact that there were more torches lit here than anywhere else in the city. The darkness seemed to close in on the brands, smothering all but the feeblest attempts of flickering light. Even the windows of the barracks were dark; not one candle was lit inside the narrow building. I wondered at this silently as Garren and I crept through the deepest shadows against the wall of the compound towards the small grill fronted cells where the thieves and other break laws were kept. As we drew closer, I could dimly make out the huddled forms of the prisoners in the backs of their cells as even in their sleep they flinched away from the wetness outside. A few of them snuffled and groaned as they played through their dreams, but none gave any sign that they were aware of our approach. I paid no attention to the occupants of these cells. They weren't the ones I was here to see.
We found her in the last cell, closest to the barracks. The girl I had seen being dragged off the street earlier looked a little disheveled, but none the worse for her experiences with the Knighthood. At least, so far as I could see, she still had both of her hands.
"What are we stopping for?" Garren hissed from behind me. "Keep moving, or someone's gonna spot us!"
"This is who we came here for, Garren." I muttered, eyes fixed on the little girl's frail frame. "She's going to be our guide."
"A little shrimp like that?"
"She's our best option," I responded, uncovering my blade and pulling it free of its clasp. The cell grating was held in place by a heavy lock, rusted from years exposed to the elements. Setting the tip of my sword into the keyhole, I shoved hard and twisted it back and forth, trying to wrench the lock open. It worked, sort of. Actually, the blade split the lock clean in half. I paused, listening hard to make sure that my efforts hadn't awoken anyone, then grasped one of the crossbars of the grate tightly in both hands. "Help me," I told Garren through clenched teeth.
Together we managed to open the grate a foot or so without causing too much racket. I didn't dare risk any more than that. The rusty hinges creaked noisily with even the slightest movement, so I didn't want to open it any farther than I absolutely had to. With a whispered "Wait here," to Garren, I slipped into the cell.
Despite its seemingly damp appearance, the inside of the cell was surprisingly dry and warm, once one got far enough away from the door. As I approached, the little girl stirred, then sat up abruptly, eyes fixed accusingly on the sword I still carried loosely in one hand. I held up my free hand, finger to my lips for silence, then returned my blade to its customary resting place on my belt. The girl watched me suspiciously as I came closer, but didn't say a word until I crouched next to her on the stones. "Who are you?" She hissed, her voice bearly audible over the sound of the rain drumming on the roof.
"A friend, of sorts," I replied quietly. "Have they decided what they're going to do with you?"
For someone so young, the girl seemed mature well beyond her years. "Standard thieves punishment," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"I thought so. Bet you'd do anything to get out of it, right?" I tried to say it gently, but I couldn't help thinking that it sounded as though I was toying with her.
"I'm not looking forward to it, if that's what you mean." She looked closely at me, narrowing her eyes. "What are you getting at? You going to let me out?"
"Depends on whether or not you'll help us."
"That depends on what the favor is."
She was sharp, I had to admit. I paused, then dropped the bomb. "We need you to take us to the guild headquarters."
"Absolutely not." She stated flatly.
"Why not? We just need to retrieve something. It's not like we're going to betray you guys to the knighthood or anything like that."
"It goes against regulations. Anyone who brings a non-guild member to headquarters is to be expelled from the Guild for life." The girl snapped, even though it seemed to me as though she was repeating a formula she'd heard a million times before.
"Under no circumstances?"
"None what so ever."
"What if I were to tell you that the knighthood might already know the location of your headquarters already? And that they might be planning an attack on it tonight?" Garren said, slipping into the cell behind me. I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Why hadn't he mentioned this before now?
"What do you mean?" The girl asked, a note of panic sneaking into her voice.
"I mean exactly what I said." Garren moved so that he was blocking the exit. "Of course, I could be lying. There's no way I can prove to you that I'm telling the truth. But can you really afford to take that risk?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Think quickly."
He was acting again. Garren did that from time to time, I noticed. I looked at him closely, trying to tell if the story about the headquarters was a part of the tough guy act or not, but his face betrayed no secrets.
Apparently the girl didn't know what to think either. After thinking her options over for a moment or two, she glared at Garren. "I don't like you."
"I don't like you either." Garren retorted. "Now are you going to help us?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." I stood and lifted the kid to her feet. "What's you're name?"
"Amy." She pulled out of my grasp and resumed glaring at Garren. "Who're you?"
"I'm Ry," I told her, selecting a name at random, "And this is Garren."
"Strange names for strange people. What is it you want back from us, anyhow?"
"A belt." I said shortly.
"A belt?"
"Yes, a belt. Now are we going to stand around here all night, or are we going to actually do something tonight?"
Garren's POV:
I'm sure that there must have been a faster, more direct route to the headquarters, but if there was, Amy wasn't taking it. We wove through alleys, climbed over rooftops, and hurried through the honeycombed corridors of the merchant classes so for so long that soon I was quite lost. Which seemed to be exactly what the little thief had in mind. When she seemed sure that both Dart and I had no idea where we were, her route became more direct. When we finally stopped, we were in one of the hallways of the shop buildings. She turned to look at us, a stern expression on her face. "When we get in there, let me do the talking. Don't either of you say so much as a word." She glared at me again, then pushed open the door and stepped through.
The room inside was pretty much the typical needs shop. Salted and dried foods of different varieties lined the walls, and bolts of drab cloth leaned against the walls. Cheeses wrapped in rough brown cloth hung from the ceiling, giving the room a sort of dusky smell. Stepping around a large crate of russet apples, Amy walked up to the counter and rang the little bell to let the shopkeeper know she was there.
For a minute or two no one came, then a sandy-eyed shopkeeper staggered out of the back room. Evidently he knew our guide, because when he saw her, he scowled. "You had to wait until I was just about asleep, didn't you Amy?"
"Save it, Derryl. We both know that you have the rest of the week off anyhow. Now open the hatch."
Derryl glanced at Dart and I questioningly, but said nothing. Instead he led the three of us into an unused storeroom, it's walls bare of wares. Crouching, he began to fiddle with the latch on a large hatch set into the floor. It clicked and suddenly the hatch swung downward, revealing a large room underneath. Standing back, he wiped his eyes sleepily. "There you go, child. I imagine that they'll all be pleased to see that you're still in one piece. Don't forget to shut the hatch behind you." With one last suspicious look at Dart and myself, he disappeared from the room.
Amy was smiling openly now. With an agile little leap she disappeared through the hatchway, landing with a soft 'thump' on what I guessed must have been a heap of cloth. Dart glanced over at me, then lowered him self carefully through the hatch after her. Not really being able to think of anything else to do, I followed.
I will say that I've had better landings. This one wasn't exactly on scale with the time I accidentally landed in a fountain coming out of a warp, but it came close. As my feet came into contact with the slippery cloth my ankle buckled and bent under me, sending a shock of pain up through my shinbone and dumping me onto my back. I started to rise, but stopped when I felt a spear point pressing threateningly against my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Dart, although on his feet, was in a similar situation.
"Wait!" Amy pushed the spearhead aside. "They helped me escape from the knighthood! I promised that I'd give them something in exchange."
The grizzled man holding the spear hesitated, apparently unsure of what to do. "What do they want?"
"Something we took from them."
"What sort of thing?"
Amy wrinkled her nose. "A belt."
"A belt?"
"That's what they said."
"I don't believe them," snapped the woman who held a short sword to Dart's throat. "Why would they go through all this trouble just to get a belt? They're probably in league with the Knighthood." She pressed her blade closer to my friend's windpipe. "I say we just take them out of the deal once and for all."
"Cut that out, Yvette," came a voice from the back of the room, "We're thieves, not murderers. There's a difference, you know." There was a hesitation, then the voice continued. "Let them go. However lame their story may sound, there may actually be some truth to it."
As the spearhead lowered, I sat up and took my first good look around the room, now that I didn't feel compelled to think about pointy pieces of metal sticking into my throat. It was low ceilinged, with dark beams crisscrossing overhead. The air smelled faintly of tabacco smoke, and here and there oil-burning lamps hung from thin chains along the walls. Aside from the pile of blankets I now sat on the room was void of decoration, although the number of doors leading off into darkened corridors made me feel as though I was sitting in the middle of a rabbit warren. We must be below the ground level, I realized. There was no other way that there could be a set up like this without anyone noticing.
The man who had called off the aggressors stood in the back of the room, a small, oil lantern burning faintly in his left hand. He was dressed in the bright silks usually worn by the upper classes of Lohan, a bright red silk robe belted at the waist with a sash of black satin and leather sandals on his feet. He had long, shoulder length gray hair that would have hung down to about his shoulders had it not been pulled back into a ponytail. Note that I only said he had gray hair. This man couldn't have been much more than thirty years of age. Raising his lantern the man stepped towards us, watching our faces intently. "I must thank you two for rescuing Amy from the knighthood," he said quietly, "however strange your motive for doing so may seem. Ever since her parents died in a house fire three years ago, I've raised her as my daughter. I honestly don't know what I would have done had you not returned her." He paused, then brushed a strand of stray hair back out of his face. "My name is Martin," he said, bowing. "As you may have guessed, I am the head of this little organization. There is not one thief in Lohan that has not at some point taken orders from me, and not one item stolen that I do not know about. Come." Martin motioned for us to follow him, then started towards the back of the room. "A belt, you say?"
"Yes."
"It must have been a rather remarkable one, if one of my men bothered stealing. Although they must be credited for their skill if they managed to steal it off you with having you notice until later." Martin selected a door and pushed it open.
Dart actually managed to look somewhat embarrassed. "I was unconscious at the time."
"Oh," Our guide led us down a long, unlighted passageway, while Amy followed behind. The two who had been waving weapons in our faces had remained back to guard the hatch, I guessed. We walked along in silence until a second door finally appeared in the watery pool of light cast by Martin's lantern. Reaching into the sash at his waist, Martin drew out an old, beaten brass key and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he motioned that we should go inside.
Two rooms couldn't have been more different from one another. Whereas the room we had just left was dark, somewhat dank, and chilly, the room in which we now stood looked more like a nobleman's sitting room than a thieves den. The walls were paneled with a rich, full grained wood and covered with woven tapestries depicting the history of Serdio. Shimmering braziers radiated warmth from their places along the wall, and thick plush carpets covered the floor. The room was strewn with various types of furniture; men and women lounged upon most of these, drowsing quietly in the warmth of the nearest brazier. Here and there one or two men were still awake enough to play dice, although no one seemed to be keeping score. They glanced over and nodded to Martin when he entered, but other than that gave no sign that they even knew we were here.
Martin surveyed the room, a slight smile on his features. "My family," he whispered to us by way of introduction. "For the most part they are castaways; orphans who have no home, or men and woman who are simply down on their luck and have no other way of supporting themselves. All of them, however, are as good or better than any other merchant in the city when it comes to their business. Which is usually taking someone else's." Stepping carefully over a sleeping child curled up on a pillow on the floor, Martin crossed the room to where a familiar, sour faced young man slept on a couch. Gently, he tapped the man on the head. "Brin, wake up. You've got some visitors."
"Grrumssmm." Brin rolled over to look blearily at us through sleepy eyes. "Wha?"
I waved at him cheerily, managing to pull off a fair imitation of Charle in the process. "Wakey, wakey!"
Brin sat bolt upright, glaring at me. "You!"
Martin glanced at his friend. "You know this man?"
"This is the idiot I told you about who almost flattened me on the rooftops earlier tonight!" Brin snarled. All around us, the sleeping thieves were beginning to stir. "What in the name of Soa is he doing here?"
"I understand that you took something of mine," Dart said, stepping forward, "We did a favor for Amy and I'd like my belt back as payment."
Brin's eyes narrowed, and his hand went to his waist. Dart's belt was wrapped loosely around his middle. "Why should I? I kind of like it."
"Give it back." Dart said quietly, his voice taking a slight edge to it. "If you don't, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist." He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Brin glanced about nervously, first at Dart's sword, then back to his eyes that looked only slightly less dangerous by comparison. Last of all he looked at Martin, who simply shrugged, then nodded. Spitting bitterly in the nearest brazier, the thief stood and pulled off the belt. "Here, take it." He turned to leave, but was halted by Dart's hand grabbing his shoulder. "Wait a moment. Aren't you forgetting something?" Before the thief had a chance to answer, Dart lifted the belt. "There were five gemstones in these holders on the belt. Where are they?"
Brin started to answer, but he was cut off as the door leading from the room with the hatchway banged open and Yvette rushed in.
"Everybody run! The Knighthood's found the hatchway!"
Immediately the room sprung to life. Children were roused from slumber and swept up into their parent's arms to escape, possessions were hastily grabbed and shoved into pockets and bags, and there was a general rush for the two doors that led, I guessed, deeper into the rabbit warren.
Amid the confusion, however, one person acted with a perfectly clear mind. Grabbing one fist in the other, Brin stepped behind Dart and smashed him hard across the back of his head, using his two fists like a club. Dart's eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor, for the second time that night knocked unconscious. Not wasting any time, Brin rushed towards the nearest door.
"Bastard!" I yelled, but instead I crouched next to Dart and shook him hard. "C'mon! Get up!"
"Stop that," Dart snarled, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. I drew back, startled, before I recognized the voice. Ragnarok was in control. I moved prudently out of the way as he shuddered again and pulled himself to his feet.
Ragnarok's POV:
You can not even begin to understand the frustration I felt when Dart was able to surpress me that night. In all the years that I had been partnered to him, I'd almost always been able to get him to comply with my wishes, or if nothing else, bend him to my will. But that night, standing on the rooftop overlooking a crowd of cultist fanatics, he'd somehow managed to find the strength to resist me. Stupid human morals. The chance to permanently injure the cult had been there before our eyes, and yet because of him I'd been able to do nothing.
Unfortunately, the boy doesn't always know his own strength. He didn't exactly banish me permanently from his mind, but he came close. I was forced to the absolute edge of his awareness, so far from his normal way of thinking that he wasn't even aware that I was still there. I guess I could have come back earlier, but in all truth, I wanted him to realize exactly what he had done. I guess in human terms it might be called childish, but I knew that if he suffered from this in some way then he wouldn't be likely to try it again, even though the pain he'd experienced while resisting me would probably be enough to deter him from doing that again.
So you can imagine my elation when I felt his mind slip once again into unconsciousness. I hadn't been able to take control when this had happened earlier, but now that the restrictions he'd placed on me had seemed to have disappeared-
Catching up to the man Dart's memory told me was named Brin, I grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his neck and jerked him none too gently onto his back. Snarling, I crouched over him and closed my hand around his throat. "Where are the stones?" I demanded. When he didn't answer right away, I grabbed him by the hand and twisted his wrist around. "I asked you, where are they?"
Panicking, he started to talk very rapidly, his words bubbling out one over the other. "Okay! I'll tell! Just stop-arrgh! Stop it!" As I lessened the pressure, he took a breath. "They're in that bag at my waist. Take them! Just let me go!"
Still holding tightly to his wrist, I tore the bag free. Jerking him to his feet, I shoved him towards the door. "Get out of my sight."
When the last of the thieves had left the room, I loosened the drawstring on the bag and began to pull out the stones and return them to their resting place on the carrier belt. Behind me I could hear Garren pacing about the room, although he said nothing. As immature as that wingly may be, he does have more than smoke between his ears. He could tell I was angry. And like any sensible creature with half a brain, he was staying out of my way.
I had just replaced the last of the spirits and was refastening the belt when the first of the knighthood burst into the room. They halted, apparently surprised at what they had found. "I bet you're wondering where the thieves went, aren't you gentlemen." I said, not looking up from my work. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that you just missed them." Pulling the leather tight into the buckle, I glanced over at Garren. "There's no point in you sticking around. Wait outside the town gates. I won't be long."
Garren hesitated, apparently sizing up the knights, then shrugged. "If that's the way you want to do it. Try not to kill to many of them" He reminded and disappeared in a flash of green light.
Turning around so that I was facing the knights, I drew my sword. "Only seven of you?" I asked, watching as they fanned out until they were surrounding me in a semi-circle. "Where's the rest of your knighthood? Pity. I was hoping for some entertainment." Lifting my blade, I ran my tongue along the edge of it. "Oh well. I guess you'll have to do."
SHADE IS A PROCASTINATOR!
Yes, yes I am. I guess I could pass it off as several consecutive cases of writers' block, but that big 'P' word up there would probably be the truth of the matter.
If I can throw off my further procrastination urges and keep myself away from that beautiful machine that they call the Play Station 2, then I hope to have the first side story posted for Easter Monday. I don't know if I can find the time to get it done, but I'll tell you after I've finished.