The God Thief (The Master Thief Book 3) Read online

  The God Thief

  By Ben Hale

  Text Copyright © 2016 Ben Hale

  All Rights Reserved

  To my family and friends,

  who believed

  And to my wife,

  who is perfect

  The Chronicles of Lumineia

  By Ben Hale

  —The Master Thief—

  Jack of Thieves

  Thief in the Myst

  The God Thief

  —The Second Draeken War—

  Elseerian

  The Gathering

  Seven Days

  The List Unseen

  —The Warsworn—

  The Flesh of War

  The Age of War

  The Heart of War

  —The White Mage Saga—

  Assassin’s Blade (Short story prequel)

  The Last Oracle

  The Sword of Elseerian

  Descent Unto Dark

  Impact of the Fallen

  The Forge of Light

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Map of Lumineia

  Prologue: The God of Light

  Chapter 1: Caged

  Chapter 2: Thorne

  Chapter 3: The Assassin’s Heir

  Chapter 4: A Thief Unbound

  Chapter 5: Hunted

  Chapter 6: Assassin of the Deep

  Chapter 7: Kulldye Dreg

  Chapter 8: Pyron’s Folly

  Chapter 9: Wart

  Chapter 10: The Hullbreaker

  Chapter 11: Imposter

  Chapter 12: Ero’s Gambit

  Chapter 13: A Woman Scorned

  Chapter 14: Thinning the Herd

  Chapter 15: Loyalty

  Chapter 16: Talinorian Mercenaries

  Chapter 17: Talinorian Fury

  Chapter 18: Reunion

  Chapter 19: Wedge

  Chapter 20: Sirani

  Chapter 21: Thief’s Flight

  Chapter 22: The Exiled

  Chapter 23: Betrayer

  Chapter 24: Ero’s Staff

  Chapter 25: The Guildmaster’s Mantle

  Chapter 26: The Sea Dancer

  Chapter 27: Humbled

  Chapter 28: The Shattered Isle

  Chapter 29: The City of Dawn

  Chapter 30: Ancient Secrets

  Chapter 31: The Vault Guardian

  Chapter 32: A Daring Plan

  Chapter 33: Stealing a Dragon

  Chapter 34: The Mind Vault

  Chapter 35: Ero’s Intrigue

  Chapter 36: Ancient Enmity

  Chapter 37: Jack’s Secret

  Chapter 38: Last Assignments

  Chapter 39: To War

  Chapter 40: The Necrolith

  Chapter 41: Seastone

  Chapter 42: A Thief’s Army

  Chapter 43: Trapped

  Chapter 44: The God Thief

  Chapter 45: Crumbling

  Chapter 46: Jack’s Truth

  Chapter 47: Parting

  Epilogue: The Living Gate

  The Chronicles of Lumineia

  Author Bio

  Map of Lumineia

  Prologue: The God of Light

  High Abbot Alidon donned his robe and stepped in front of the mirror. The gold and white material flowed over his gut, obscuring his tendency for excess. Elves were not prone to gluttony, but he believed one of his position deserved to partake. He licked his lips and reached for the elderberry ale.

  “Drinking before dawn?” Paro asked, her voice tinged with scorn.

  Alidon turned on her. “I tire of punishing you. How many scars will it take before you are obedient?”

  The woman scowled, her fingers stroking the faint lines on the back of her arm. Paro had served in the Talinorian army for two decades before devoting herself to Ero. But her rise in the ranks of the Church of Light had been stunted by her vocal opposition to the church’s practices.

  “Have you considered my proposal?” Paro asked. “Today would be the day for an announcement.”

  Alidon smiled. “Ero has rejected it.”

  Paro glared at him. “Ero rejected a plan to close the donation wells for one day?”

  “Careful, acolyte,” Alidon said. “You may have attained the eighth circle, but blasphemy is still punishable by expulsion from the church.”

  Paro’s lips curled with hatred before she lowered her gaze and stepped to the door. “It’s almost time,” she cast over her shoulder.

  Alidon’s smile turned smug as she departed. He loved watching a woman’s eyes drop to the floor. He turned back to the mirror and added the rings to his fingers. The greatest he saved for last, the one bearing the insignia of the god Ero.

  “The people call you the deity of light,” he said to himself, and then a chuckle shook his jowls. “But if you exist, you are most certainly the god of gold.”

  He turned away from the mirror and exited his private quarters. The elven guards fell into step behind him in a whisper of cloth. They wore cloaks like his, but instead of gold and white the cloth was blue with white accents, the colors of a third circle acolyte.

  He resisted the urge to smirk at them. Of the nine levels in church, everyone wanted to reach the seventh, the circle where peace in the afterlife was supposedly assured. Only the high abbot attained level nine, and the walls around him reflected the white and gold of his rank.

  Banners hung from golden rods, the cloth rippling with magic. One showed a final winter storm drifting white flakes onto a mountain in Griffin, while another displayed a river in Talinor, its banks swollen with spring runoff. The adornments had been purchased from donations dropped into the wells placed throughout the temples of the church.

  Although all the temples were star-shaped, the structure in Azertorn dwarfed them all. It stood a hundred feet high and contained a series of offices above the worship hall. The floor was segmented into nine circular levels, each reflecting the colors of the respective level of enlightenment. The center circle was reserved for Alidon, and contained his office, bedchamber, receiving room, library, and private worship hall.

  Outside Alidon’s circle, the subsequent rings represented the nine levels an acolyte must ascend to join Ero in the afterlife. Eighth-circle abbots served as heads for each of the levels, with Paro relegated to serving at the lowest.

  Alidon reached the end of the curve and descended the stairs, passing a sphere hanging in an alcove. Shimmering rings reflected the nine circles, each shining brighter as they approached the center, the Heart of Ero. It was proximity to the god that everyone wanted, and their desire drove many to pour coin into the wells—and Alidon’s pockets.

  “High Abbot,” one of his guards spoke, drawing his attention. “If I may . . .”

  The curve of the staircase brushed against the exterior of the temple, and Alidon glanced out the window to see a predawn light above the edge of the city. It was still a few minutes until the ceremony so he turned to the acolyte.

  “What is your request, acolyte?”

  “My son is unwell, and the healers cannot help.”

  Alidon smiled sympathetically. “Man cannot heal what Ero wills.”

  The elf bowed his head. “Will you beseech him on my behalf?”

  “Do you show your devotion?”

  “I donate every day,” the elf said.

  “It is not a true sacrifice unless it cuts,” Alidon admonished.

  “I’ll double it,” the acolyte said.

  Alidon reached out and touched his shoulder. “Then Ero’s light will be upon you.”

  The acolyte smiled and bowed. As Alidon turned away he smiled as well, imagining what he would buy with the coin. At th
e very least his bedchamber needed an upgrade. The last acolyte he’d attempted to entice had ripped the sheets as she’d fled.

  He turned a corner and descended the final steps until he reached an arched doorway. Bound by dwarven granite and inlaid with gold, the doors were hand carved from Amazonian teak. The guards at the door nodded to him and grasped the handles. Alidon readied himself and pasted a smile on his face before nodding to them.

  The door swung open and he entered the great hall, advancing through the massive crowd. Shaped in a great star, the room contained thousands of elves, humans, and a smattering of the other races. The pews all pointed to the stage at the center and its statue, an enlarged effigy of the god Ero. A hole in the ceiling allowed sunlight to beam upon the statue, bathing it in glory. The sun had yet to crest the horizon, but faint light illuminated Ero’s marble features.

  The temple in Azertorn was the head of the church, and the first dawn of each spring brought acolytes in droves for the Dawnlight ceremony. They came for blessings and to show their devotion to Ero—and they brought endless bags of coin.

  Four eighth-circle abbots entered at the other points of the star, and together they approached the stage at the center of the hall. A hush swept the acolytes as Alidon stepped onto the stage and raised his hands to the great statue of Ero. Conscious of the attention, he spoke the customary prayer.

  “Ero, God of light and living, grace us with your presence and fill our souls with truth.”

  He bowed deep and the crowd murmured the invocation, the voices melding into a hum of excitement. Then he rose and turned to the gathering, pleased to see that people lined the walls, unable to find a seat in the press of bodies.

  “We gather for the first dawn of a new spring,” he said, the charms on the stage amplifying his voice to fill the hall, “and I welcome you to the Dawnlight. As with every year, we gather to beseech Ero’s light to be upon us . . .”

  He launched into his sermon, stoking the crowd. His greatest talent was with the spoken word, and his gift had led to his rise within the church. His oration brought the believers to their feet, and even the skeptics in the room stood. Avowals of worship echoed off the walls, rising in fervor as Alidon filled their souls with hope. As the spirit of worship reached a fever pitch, he glanced to the side, and the acolyte guards slipped from the room, moving to activate their respective levers. A moment later a great thunder echoed, and the roof began to tremble.

  The points on the star-shaped ceiling turned translucent, allowing a view of the predawn sky. Clouds drifted above the city, their cottony surfaces glowing red in the east. The edges of the roof reflected the light, slanting it toward the statue of Ero. Many in the crowd raised their hands to the brightening effigy. Alidon allowed the grandeur of the moment to build, relishing the sound of coins filling hands. Dawn touched the horizon and the light brightened on Ero, wreathing the statue in an ethereal glow.

  “We beseech you, Ero!” Alidon called. “Grant us the light of your presence!”

  To his shock the light continued to brighten. He cast about for an explanation, but the other abbots were equally as confused. They shielded their gaze as the light became blinding, exceeding the enchantment and sending cries of shock throughout the congregation.

  The heavens twisted, the clouds spinning into a tornado that descended upon the temple. It passed through the hole in the roof and fell upon Ero, churning around the stone. Alidon stumbled off the stage, wind whipping his robes. The crowd surged back, recoiling as the abbots hastily retreated. But the tornado tightened, the wind slicing into the statue’s fine granite, shredding it to dust.

  Men and women cried out, shouting for direction, but Alidon stood frozen in shock. He watched helplessly as the tornado decimated the statue. Then the light brightened further, and amid the raging cyclone a figure descended. Wreathed in light and glory, he came to rest in the rubble and swept his hands wide. The sudden storm evaporated and the dawn returned to normal.

  “You have called,” Ero spoke. A smile appeared on his divine features as his startlingly blue eyes settled on Alidon. “And I have come.”

  Chapter 1: Caged

  Jack Myst stared at the parchment on his desk. It was an assignment request by a duke in Griffin to steal the daughter of a rival lord for his son. Unfortunately, Jack knew the duke and his penchant for cruelty among his servants, and family. Dipping his pen into the inkwell, Jack scrawled ‘DENIED’ across the request.

  “You can’t deny them all,” Forlana said.

  He glanced at her. Forlana was a class three thief skilled in deception and combat. She could don a persona as easily as a cloak for a winter stroll. She was a generation removed from Jack and her skewering look reminded him of his mother.

  “I’m the guildmaster,” Jack said, trying not to sound like a petulant child. “I can deny requests I don’t like.”

  Forlana placed a hand on the stack of parchment. “The Thieves Guild cannot survive on just the contracts that seem ‘interesting’.”

  He sighed and gestured for the next. “As you order.”

  Forlana pursed her lips as she handed it to him. He pretended to look it over but let his eyes wander. He’d changed the office when he’d accepted the rank. Spacious and open, the rectangular office contained the traditional darkwood desk at the center. Instead of blades and banners, Jack had placed memories on the walls of his office. Pedestals lined the exterior and displayed items he’d stolen in his time as a guild thief. Most were cast from light magic to represent real objects, and depicted everything from a dark necklace to an entire ship.

  Jack’s private bedchamber sat adjacent, while a door on the opposite side led to the top of the Machine, the testing wall for the thieves. At the rear of the room a strongdoor led to the guild’s vault, the first place Jack had entered upon becoming guildmaster. What he’d found had been shocking and disturbing, but he still enjoyed exploring the myriad of hidden alcoves within the vault.

  “Jack . . .” Forlana said.

  “I know,” he said, browsing the parchment before absently signing.

  “They should be back any day,” Forlana said.

  He grinned and leaned back in his seat. “Ero was supposed to arrive in Azertorn a fortnight ago. Beauty should have been back by now.”

  “We need to finish this,” Forlana said, gathering up the parchment.

  Jack folded his arms. “It’s time for a break.”

  Forlana skewered him with a look before relenting. “As you order, Guildmaster.”

  Jack stretched, grateful for a reprieve from paperwork. Then a commotion outside his office drew his gaze, and a moment later the door swung open. A raven-haired woman strode in, smiling as her eyes met Jack’s.

  “You should have been there,” Beauty said.

  “Forlana insisted I had paperwork to accomplish,” he said sourly.

  Forlana grinned at his side. “I do all the paperwork.”

  Jack laughed and didn’t argue. Forlana really did most of the records, but he didn’t want to admit his real reason for not attending Ero’s arrival. He leaned back in his seat and tossed the quill onto the stack of records he was supposed to sign.

  “Can we finish this later?” he asked Forlana.

  “All you have to do is sign them,” she said. “I completed the assignment records days ago.”

  “Tomorrow,” Jack said. “I swear it.”

  Forlana’s eyes sparkled with humor and she gathered the requests up. “Tomorrow, first thing.”

  “As you order,” Jack said with a sigh, already wondering how he could get out of it.

  Beauty laughed when the door shut. “You’ve been guildmaster for a few months, yet act like you are shackled to this desk.”

  He groaned and rose to his feet. “Lorelia made it look easy,” he said, and strode to the row of trophies set against the wall. He came to a halt before the empty pedestal where he’d planned on placing his first conquest after becoming guildmaster. It had been months, but it
was still empty.

  “I used to enjoy my occupation,” he said.

  “Your job is to lead the guild,” Beauty reminded him. “Not steal for it. Besides, you know the bounty on your head.”

  Jack scowled at the reminder. Skorn had stayed true to his word, and put a thousand-gold bounty on Jack’s head—if it came detached from his body. Jack had thought they’d defeated Skorn at the battle of Margauth, but apparently he’d simply withdrawn to lick his wounds.

  “I thought he wanted to kill me himself,” Jack said.

  “You sound disappointed,” Beauty said.

  He turned to find her smiling. “Does this amuse you?”

  “Let’s see. First Skorn was imprisoned by his brother for forty thousand years—where he spent his time plotting revenge. When he finally escaped, he became guildmaster of the Thieves Guild—using his position to hunt for a master thief that would help him reclaim his power. I’m fairly certain that was supposed to be you. But you went and opposed him, didn’t you?”

  “So?” Jack asked.

  “You destroyed his map, his beacon, and his fortress,” she said, and her eyes sparkled with amusement, “and you did it because you thought it would be fun.”

  “It was fun.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, “but it’s the reason he wants you dead.”

  “My safety is not worth being trapped here, scratching judgments on parchment.”

  Her smile faded. “Avoiding boredom is not worth getting yourself killed. Assassins are combing the five kingdoms for you. If you take an assignment outside this guildhall, you’ll wake up without your head.”

  “Worried about me?” he asked, stepping to her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He sensed her desire to close the gap but hesitation bound her body. Unwilling to give a chance for her to withdraw, he returned to his desk and sank into his chair, leaning back to put his boots on the desk.

  “Tell me about Ero,” he said.

  He motioned her to the seat across from him. Although he retained the smile, he wondered about her reaction. Jack and Beauty shared a mutual attraction, but Beauty avoided anything beyond an occasional kiss, and rarely spoke of it. Rather than discouraging, her reluctance made her more appealing, but he wondered if she would ever yield to him.