Well, here it is, my first Relic Hunter story. It's a little strange, but I hope you all like it anyway. I wrote it for my nanowrimo project this year, so it's kind of long--but it is complete. It's got some shippy moments in it, but it's mostly an adventure. The story takes place a couple of weeks after Hunting with the Enemy, and it contains small spoilers for various episodes up to that point. The prologue is kind of short, but the peices get longer after that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Syd and Nige (or even Karen). The concept of Relic Hunter isn't mine either.

The Rainmaker's Staff

by Tanya Reed

Theri knocked on Rayzi's door. Though the hour was late, she knew that he would still be awake. The door was opened almost immediately by a young man with tousled blond hair and circles under his blue eyes. He was fully clothed and a heavy tome dangled from his left hand.

"Theri," he said in surprise. "What are you doing running around at this hour of the night?"

"I needed to see you. We have to figure out what to do."

Without asking for explanations, Rayzi moved aside to let her in.

"This has to end," she continued, "and we're running out of options."

Rayzi scowled, kicking the door closed behind them. Theri studied his face and felt guilty for the care-lines she had put there. He looked too young to have a kingdom depending on him. It almost slipped her mind that she was just as young.

Rayzi motioned her to a book-filled chair. With a sigh, Theri picked up the books and plopped them at her feet. Rayzi was mostly an instinctive mage; if he was going to his books, they were in as much trouble as she feared.

He sat across from her, on the bed, his blue eyes troubled as they looked into hers.

"I've been thinking..." she started slowly, not sure how to say it. "I know it may be just a legend, but do you think...?"

As usual, Rayzi seemed to immediately know what she was saying. "You're speaking of The Staff."

Theri nodded, looking down at her fingers. She believed, but she didn't know if he believed. There was nothing to be lost by trying, though, and everything to gain.

When she didn't answer him, he got up once more and began to pace. The air around him seemed to crackle with electricity.

"It might not exist. If it does, we might not find it. How do we find it? Who can we trust?"

"I don't know," Theri said, though he wasn't really asking her. "But the people are dying. We know the legends say that Karolyne spent her last days in Lesha. Maybe that's the place to start."

"But Lesha..."

"I know, but what choice do we have?" Theri felt her voice rise and fought to control it.

He stopped his pacing and once more ran his hand through his wild blond hair. "So, who will you send? Me?"

Theri shook her head. She needed him here. "I thought you could do a divination. We need the best adventurer alive, and we need someone we can trust. How are we supposed to know who that is without one?"

Rayzi smiled slightly. "That's a good idea, actually."

"We can't afford to have less than the best...and The Staff is so valuable..."

"I'll make sure honesty and honour are factors."

Now that he agreed, Theri found herself getting excited. Finally, they'd be doing something.

She watched as Rayzi went to the trunk by his bed, rummaging until he came out with a large wooden bowl. This, he filled almost to the top with water from the pitcher on his nightstand. Then, he took out a small knife. Theri winced as he nicked his index finger and let two drops of blood drip into the water.

He brought the bowl over to his small work table. Theri stood so she could go over and peer into the bowl. Not everyone could see a divination, but she had just enough mage sight to be able to.

Rayzi leaned over his bowl, staring into the water intently. Theri bent down almost as close, taking care not to block his concentration or his view.

After a moment, a picture started to form. It was of two people--a tall athletic woman and a smaller, very handsome young man. As they watched, the two in the bowl approached a large stone building. The woman turned to the man and said something. Theri wished she could hear what. She wondered if they were theives.

She shook her head in denial. She had asked Rayzi to specify honour. She continued to watch as the woman and man looked furtively around before the woman took out a hand held crossbow, sighted, and shot upwards. Theri was impressed as the woman started to climb a line that trailed down from her bolt.

The picture slowly started to fade. Theri watched it until it was gone before raising her eyes to Rayzi's.

"They look promising."

"Yes," he said, biting his lip pensively, "But we might have a problem."

----------------------------

Sydney Fox quietly snuck down the alley, her friend and assistant Nigel Bailey close behind her. She winced as Nigel tripped over something with a groan and a loud smacking noise. She stopped and listened, hoping the night around them would remain quiet.

Nigel made a face in the dim light and mouthed, "Sorry."

Sydney just gave him a stern look. When the night didn't erupt into sound, she turned back, noting that Nigel was trying to be more careful. At least she didn't hear any more loud crashes behind her.

As they approached Serge's house, she slowed again, waving a hand in Nigel's direction. He was being so cautious that she felt rather than heard him come up behind her.

She turned and whispered, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I ever am," he whispered back.

Sydney rolled her eyes and looked around them, searching for prying eyes. Finding none, she reached into her pocket and took out her crossbow. She cocked it and aimed at the roof.

"I'm going to fall down and break my neck," Nigel told her quietly, but she ignored him.

As soon as her arrow sank in, she pulled on the small rope hanging from it. It felt solid. She gave it one last tug to be sure, and started to climb.

She had discovered that Serge kept his antiquities on the third floor, so Sydney climbed right up to the top. The window was latched, though she had taken care of the alarm that afternoon. Taking out her knife, she gripped the rope with her knees and started working at the latch.

"Sydney?" Nigel's voice came from below.

"I'm working on it," she hissed back.

"Hurry, please."

As he said this, Sydney heard a click. She grinned and swung one shutter outward. Wriggling sideways, she managed to pull herself in through the opening. Turning, she called down, "All right, come up."

Sydney looked around and found herself in a small bedroom. It was simple and impersonal. The colors were muted and the furniture, though of good quality, was plain. Through the open window, she heard Nigel grunting softly as he struggled up the rope. She absently tuned it out as she went to the closed door. Serge was supposed to be gone for the night, but she still put her ear against it intently.

"Syd, a little help."

Scowling, Sydney went back to the window where Nigel was hanging half in and half out. Nigel gave her a hesitant smile, despite the fact that he was dangling three stories above the ground. Unable to retain her scowl, she shook her head and smiled back, grabbing the back of his jacket and helping him through.

"You all right?"

"Sure."

She had to hand it to him. Nigel struggled through everything she threw at him. He didn't do it without complaint, but he never refused. She smiled at him again and clapped him on the shoulder.

Together, they walked out into a narrow hallway.

"If our information is correct, it's at the end of this hallway, on the left."

"Right." Nigel dug his flashlight out of his bag and shone it down the hallway. Sydney noticed that the hallway, like the bedroom, was very plain. It wasn't at all what you would expect from a flashy millionaire. She wondered if it was because he didn't want anyone to guess that he had something important hidden up there.

"Spartan," Nigel said, echoing her thoughts as he usually did.

The two of them hurried down the hallway to the room they had been told to search for the Dagger of Iniquity. The door was locked, so Sydney took out her lockpicks and searched for the one she needed. Nigel lit the keyhole for her.

The room beyond was a study, decorated as simply as the other rooms on that floor. Though the furniture was simple, it was obviously expensive. But there were no antiquities in the room.

"Huh. There must be a safe."

"Yes," Nigel agreed. "I don't see one, so hidden...I'll take this side, you take that."

Sydney nodded and began to feel her way around the wall. She knew the safe could be hidden anywhere--as simple as behind a picture or as complicated as a secret compartment.

"Any luck, Nigel?" she asked.

"Not yet."

She snuck a peek at him over her shoulder. In the glow from his flashlight, she could see his brow drawn down in concentration. It was one of his adorable looks, though she would never tell him that. Turning to the desk, Sydney started running her fingers over it.

"Here, Syd," Nigel said, making her abandon the desk and come up behind him. He showed her a place on the wall where the panelling varied slightly. "This might be it."

She reached over and slid her fingers over the panelling, recognizing a small bump as a possible trigger. Gently, she pressed it. A quiet creak resulted and Sydney saw a small part of the wall separate from the rest.

"Bingo."

She pulled gently on the door, revealing a small room lined with shelves. On the shelves were rare items, most of them legal, but...

"There," Nigel said from behind her. "That's the dagger."

The stolen dagger gleamed in the light from Nigel's flashlight. The gems in its hilt twinkled.

Without much time to admire it, Nigel hurried forward and scooped it up, putting it into his backpack. Sydney put the wall back as she found it, and they hurried towards the door. They were stopped short as the lights were suddenly turned on, and they found themselves confronted by a very large man holding a gun. Serge.

"Ah, Sydney, my pet," he said, "I knew you'd make a play for the dagger."

His dress was impeccable, and he spoke in a calmly cultured voice. The evil intent in his eyes, however, was unmistakeable.

Sydney glanced at Nigel, making sure he was behind her. She could see the surprise on his face, and it was almost comical.

"Serge," she said, deadpan, "you're home early."

"I couldn't let guests come to my home without greeting them. Now tell the boy to hand me the dagger."

"Nigel."

"Right."

Sydney saw Serge's eyes flick to Nigel. In that brief moment of inattention, she kicked hard, knocking the gun from Serge's hand. She followed the kick with a punch to the face. Serge stumbled, but didn't fall, so she hit him again.

When he went down, Sydney grabbed Nigel's hand and the two of them ran back the way they had come. Nigel was a lot faster going down than he had been coming up, and as soon as he reached the ground she slid down after him. They were off and back down the alley before Serge even had a chance to see which way they had gone.

To be continued...