The God Thief (The Master Thief Book 3) Page 2

  “He showed up exactly as you predicted,” Beauty said briskly. “And you should have seen the high abbot’s face.”

  Jack snorted. “I suspect most of the clergy in the Church of Light know it’s all about the coin. To have their god show up probably made them empty their bowels—especially Alidon.”

  “I must admit,” Beauty said, “Ero actually looks like a god.”

  “I know,” Jack said, recalling the first time he’d met the ancient being in the Vault of the Eternals.

  “When is Ero going after Skorn?” Beauty asked.

  “You think Ero knows where Skorn is hiding?” Jack asked.

  “We can’t find him,” she said. “And we’ve used every contact the guild has.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “Skorn will come to Ero.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He won’t be able to resist,” Jack replied. “Like you said, Skorn was in prison for longer than we can imagine. He’ll want to kill his warden, brother or not.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “Because Skorn is not sitting idle, and the more time he has, the more damage he can do.”

  “Like you said,” Jack said. “I destroyed his beacon. What can he do without it?”

  “He’s Skorn,” she said, her expression darkening. “A member of the ancient race—one that many believe is the devil of our world. He always has a plan.”

  “This time we have Ero,” Jack said. “And he’s a powerful ally.”

  “Are you certain we can trust him?”

  Jack thought back to the first time he’d met Ero, his eyes drawn to the small pyramid displayed on one of his pedestals. He’d stolen the beacon from the Vault of the Eternals, where he’d encountered Ero and learned of Skorn’s imprisonment. Most of the world believed Ero and Skorn were gods, but they were merely survivors of the ancient race.

  “We can trust his hatred for Skorn,” Jack said.

  “You never told me how you persuaded him to help,” she said, leaning against the desk.

  Jack grinned. It was a question she had asked before, but he’d been evasive with his answers. When he’d stolen from the Vault of the Eternals Jack had asked Ero if he intended on dealing with his brother, but Ero had refused. After returning from the battle at Margauth Jack had departed for the Vault a second time to enlist his aid.

  “Ero did not wish to come,” Jack admitted, “but I took a page from Skorn’s book and used manipulation.”

  “You made him angry,” she said, and then laughed. “I guess I should not be surprised. Skorn may have a way with manipulation, but you have a talent for inciting rage.”

  “Not anymore,” Jack said sourly. “I’ve been cooped up for six months with no one to talk to but thieves.”

  “We’re not all bad,” Thalidon said, hearing Jack’s comment as he stepped through the door.

  Jack smirked at the dwarf. As the primary smith for the guild, Thalidon crafted gear and weapons. Now that his brother worked with him, they had managed to forge even better gear for the thieves—gear he had yet to use. He insisted on arming himself with all the new items, even though he knew he wouldn’t be using them.

  “Are the hopefuls ready?” Jack asked.

  The dwarf nodded. “Slyver brought them in, and they are in the Machine chamber now.”

  “Let’s get this done,” Jack said. Beauty and Thalidon fell into step beside him as he left the office.

  “Be nice,” Beauty said. “The hopefuls don’t deserve grouchy Jack.”

  Thalidon laughed. “Is that his persona now?”

  “No,” Jack said.

  Beauty and Thalidon shared a laugh and they descended the stairs of the fortress. Located in the depths of the Evermist Swamp, the thief guildhall sat on an island in a lake. The citadel had been built ages ago by the extinct Verinai. Few dared to enter the swamp, and those that did were rarely found. Only the thieves passed safely in the Evermist.

  Jack stepped into the cavernous great hall, his eyes drawn to the climbing wall that dominated the space. The Machine had changed since Skorn had made it lethal, with Jack’s predecessor removing the more deadly traps from its surface. Now failure resulted in injury and disappointment, not dismemberment and death.

  Jack strode to the line of hopefuls surveying the wall. There was more than he expected, with over a score of thieves eager to join the ranks of the guild. Jack was in his early twenties, but some of the thieves were barely fifteen.

  A young woman stood in the middle of the pack. She fidgeted with a knife until she caught sight of Jack, when her eyes widened and she dropped the blade. She flushed and picked it up before falling into a whispered conversation with her companion.

  The woman next to her looked to be Jack’s age. Her striking red hair set her apart from the group, as did her poise. She wore dark pants and a tight vest with red threading. She caught his eye and held it without fear or anger, and enough intensity to make him curious.

  “Welcome, hopefuls,” Jack said.

  A shiver trickled down his spine. They were the same words Skorn had said to him when Jack had infiltrated the guild to find his mother’s killers. His quest for vengeance resulted in Skorn’s expulsion from the guild, and the enmity between them had deepened with each subsequent conflict.

  “You now face the Machine,” he said. He turned his thoughts from Skorn and strode to the group of hopefuls. “It may not be as lethal as it once was, but do not dismiss its dangers.”

  He grinned and gestured to Thalidon, who slipped out of view. The thieves in the balcony above laughed and called out as the Machine began to turn. Jack turned his attention to the Machine, wishing he was one of the hopefuls about to ascend.

  Traps and spells covered the surface. Nets and barbed hooks were hidden behind handholds, ready to spring out and grasp a climber. Water traps would explode and freeze one to the wall, while light curses lay hidden, ready to cause temporary blindness. Some holds contained a numbing poison, while others hid spiders. The lethal variety had been removed and a stinging Grey Hollow spider had taken its place. Many of the handholds held banshee curses.

  Although dangerous, the traps were nothing compared to the blades, curses, and arachnids that had littered the Machine when Jack had made his first ascent. Still, Thalidon and his brother Roarthin had made the climb a daunting affair, and few hopefuls made it past level one. Without the threat of death, the hopefuls could push their skills without fear. Much of what they might encounter on assignment could be found on the Machine, and it was an adequate measure of a thief’s skills.

  “Slyver,” Jack said, gesturing to him. “You may begin.”

  The thief inclined his head and took the lead. “This is where you prove yourself,” he said, gesturing to the wall. “Fail to pass the first level and you will be returned to Talinor. Attempt to return to the guildhall on your own and you will likely die in the Evermist.”

  He strode among the hopefuls. “Those of you to pass the first level will become first-level thieves and gain . . .”

  Jack tuned out the rest of the speech. He’d heard it before and was already bored—and he was tired of being bored. When he’d agreed to be guildmaster he’d never thought it would be so stifling.

  “I like the new wall,” Beauty said.

  “I miss the old one,” Jack said.

  “The one designed to kill you?”

  “It was exciting,” he said, watching the first hopeful get trapped in an explosion of ropes.

  “I’m sure the rest of your week will be better,” Beauty said.

  Thalidon stepped to their side and nodded. “She’s right,” he said. “We have a lot planned for you.”

  Beauty threw Thalidon a sharp look. Jack realized the dwarf’s meaning and rotated to face him, anger sparking in his blood. He grabbed Beauty’s arm and spun her about, stepping so close he could see the flakes of grey in her blue eyes.

  “What does he mean, we?”

  She shrugged him off. “
You’re missing the hopefuls.”

  The evasion confirmed his suspicions. “Thera.”

  The use of her real name caused her to finally meet his gaze. “We knew you wanted to go out,” she admitted, “so we filled your time to keep you inside.”

  “How many are involved?”

  Even Thalidon flinched at his voice. “Everyone that knows you,” Thalidon said. “Forlana, Gordon, Ursana, Slyver—”

  “Enough,” Jack snapped. “You think to manipulate me? You’re just like Skorn.”

  The heat to his words drew the gaze of Slyver, who drifted close. “Is something amiss?”

  “Everything,” Jack growled.

  He shoved through them and strode across the chamber. Beauty made to follow but Jack cast her a scathing look, freezing her in her tracks. He passed through the other thieves, pushing past the hopefuls.

  They called out to him but he ignored them. The hopeful on the end stepped into his path, closing off his exit. Jack veered around him, a growl on his lips—and then noticed the dagger. Serrated and long, it slipped from its sheath and pointed at Jack. He looked up as the man yanked the amulet from his neck, removing the magic that hid his features.

  Jack came to an abrupt halt. “Thorne,” he said.

  The assassin inclined his head but did not advance. “Jack.”

  Jack snatched the dagger from his back and dropped his crossbow into his palm. “I suppose Skorn sent you?”

  “Sorry Jack,” the assassin said. “I really did like you.” Then he lunged forward, driving his dagger toward Jack’s chest.

  Chapter 2: Thorne

  Jack slipped to the side, narrowly missing the blade as it sliced across his tunic. Thorne rotated and came again, driving for his throat. Jack swiveled and caught the assassin’s dagger on his own blade, the impact driving him back. Fighting for space, Jack parried another strike and backtracked.

  “You should have waited until I was alone,” Jack said.

  “It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Thorne said with a shrug. “No one here can stop me.”

  Hopefuls retreated as thief guards rushed forward. Beauty beat them to it. Her body enhanced by her magic, she streaked across the space and struck at the assassin. The man anticipated the strike and caught her wrist. With a twist he redirected her motion and launched her toward the Machine. She crashed into its surface and dropped to the floor.

  Thorne sniffed in disapproval. “Barbarians,” he said. “Their speed charms always make them overcommit.”

  Beauty wiped the blood from the cut on her forehead and rose to her feet. She snarled and picked up her sword, darting to the assassin. Jack came from the opposite flank as Thalidon and Slyver struck from behind.

  Thorne spun in a circle, his cloak billowing outward. His person fractured into a dozen matching assassins that scattered to engage the thieves. One leapt to Thalidon and struck, his dagger battering Thalidon’s axe. Another intercepted Beauty and drove his dagger toward her stomach. The rest engaged the thief guards, who howled in dismay as they were driven back by the sudden army.

  Beauty parried a blade and drove her own weapon into the man’s stomach—but the blade passed through the mirage. She withdrew in confusion and the assassin struck, cutting a furrow across her arm.

  “Watch out for the blades!” she cried out, and deflected her opponent in a shower of sparks.

  The real Thorne strode toward Jack. “The mirage charm can do no physical harm,” he said, “unless it’s given a lightcast blade.”

  The mirages may have been nothing but light, but their blades did plenty of damage. Unable to get around them, the other thieves couldn’t reach the real assassin. Sparks scorched the floor as thieves and mirages clashed in a whirlwind of battle. Jack saw the conflict out of the corner of his eye but kept his gaze on Thorne.

  The man was tall and muscular, and wielded his single blade with shocking precision. He was second out of the seven members of the Assassin’s Guild, and he’d earned the rank by displaying a lethality that rivaled Gallow, the assassin guildmaster.

  “I never realized you were a light mage,” Jack said, retreating toward the Machine.

  The man shrugged as if he were bored. “Elves are known for light magic, but humans occasionally have the talent. I actually trained with Lorelia, although I doubt she would have remembered.”

  The assassin darted in and Jack blocked the strike. Beauty had taught Jack a great deal, but his skill in swordplay did not compare to the assassin’s. Thorne struck again, testing Jack’s defenses. Jack managed to parry the blow without losing his throat, but the assassin did not take advantage of the subsequent opening.

  Jack smirked at the man’s patience. “You think I’m feigning weakness?”

  “You have a reputation,” Thorne said. “You’ve faced threats from across Lumineia—yet remain standing. Experience requires caution.”

  Realizing the only thing keeping him alive was the man’s hesitation, Jack went on the offensive. Raising his crossbow at the assassin, he sent a freezing bolt at his feet. Thorne sidestepped easily, rotating around the explosion of ice to keep Jack retreating toward the Machine. Jack used the man’s motion to fire a second, and then a third.

  The second bolt turned into enchanted ropes that expanded to catch the assassin, pushing the man toward the pile of ice. The third bolt went between the ice and ropes. Trapped in the middle, Thorne caught the bolt before it dug into his chest and tossed it away. It detonated on the ground, sending bits of charred stone through the army of mirages.

  “Impressive,” Jack said, pocketing the crossbow and ascending the Machine. “But I expect nothing less from a member of the Assassin’s Guild.”

  Thorne began to climb behind him, his pace unhurried as he bypassed traps with ease. “You were dead the moment I was given the order, Jack. I’m just here to complete the kill.”

  “And it took you this long to find me?” Jack asked.

  Thorne’s jaw tightened. “I admit your guildhall was harder to locate than I anticipated.”

  “Got lost in the Evermist?”

  Thorne’s eyes flashed with irritation, confirming Jack’s assumption. Then the assassin leapt closer to Jack, his blade slicing at Jack’s ankle. Jack spun to the side and caught another hold, but the assassin cast another mirage on the other side of Jack. The secondary Thorne swung a blade at Jack and he ducked, the weapon cutting deep into the Machine.

  Realizing he was trapped between the two, Jack released his hold and dropped to the base of the chamber, darting to a door. The assassin was half a step behind him, following Jack through the door before it could shut.

  The sounds of the conflict faded as Jack bolted through the fortress. Drawn to the conflict, a pair of thief guards appeared and raced toward Jack. He pointed down the hall, away from the conflict.

  “But sir!”

  “Go!” Jack snapped. “Close off the exits.”

  They hesitated but Thorne cast a quartet of mirages that threw their swords, sending four searing blades spinning down the corridor. The guards were not quick enough, and the blades cut into their bodies. Jack leapt up and twisted sideways. The weapons passed above and below him before plunging into the wall. Jack landed as a mirage of Thorne appeared in his path, forcing him into the corridor leading to the hall of archives. He reached the end and glanced back to spot four Thornes racing after him, the real assassin striding behind them.

  Jack slipped inside and slammed the door—and four blades pierced it. Heat from the magic seared through the wood as the blades began to carve an opening, and Jack retreated into the turret, casting about for a plan.

  The turret lay open to the glass ceiling, allowing moonlight to partially illuminate the balconies. Balconies ringed the space and held curving bookshelves. Bracketed in iron, light orbs interspersed the shelves, providing illumination for the chamber.

  As the door succumbed Jack raised his arm and cast his shadowhook, sending a thread of darkness upward, where it fused to the shad
ows beneath the third level. He yanked himself up and landed on the second, brushing the rune linked to the light orbs. The lights dimmed, hiding him in welcome shadows as Thorne stepped into view.

  “You cannot hide from me, Jack,” he said, striding to the center of the turret and looking upward. “No one ever hides from me.”

  “Do you always talk your targets to death?” Jack called.

  Thorne rotated to face him but Jack slipped away before he was spotted. The assassin frowned and cast a trio of mirages that leapt to the balconies. As they hunted, Jack used a staircase to ascend higher.

  “Thieves,” Thorne said with a snort. “You always think the shadows are your friends.”

  The assassin punched his hands together and light blossomed at the top of the turret. The moonlight brightened and spread, filling the hall like it was noonday. The shadows disappeared as the magic destroyed them, leaving every corner exposed.

  Thorne smiled. “You can never hide—.”

  Jack slammed into his back, knocking the assassin to the floor. He’d used the burst of light to shield his approach, and plunged his dagger into Thorne’s cloak. Jack’s weapon dug into Thorn’s shoulder rather than his heart as the assassin twisted his body. Thorne growled in pain and rage, throwing Jack to the side.

  Jack landed on his feet and fired his crossbow. Thorne tried to catch it but failed, and the bolt sank into his arm. The assassin yanked it free with a snarl, all trace of civility gone. The bolt clattered on the floor and he sidestepped the next bolt.

  “You will pay for that.”

  “Don’t bleed on me,” Jack said, wrinkling his nose. “I really like this tunic.”

  Thorne snarled and spun his cloak. The moonlight dimmed as he cast a full score of mirages, filling the base of the turret with matching assassins. The Thornes were quick to flank Jack, leveling burning lightcast blades at him. Jack began to laugh, and the humor mounted into a roar.