15 years later
Dark waves relentlessly crash into my small boat as I dejectedly sail through murky waters of the western sea. I’ve been afloat now for three entire days. Which means it’s been three days since I failed the biggest job of my career as a thief. Three miserable days without food, water, or comfort of any kind. Three days, sailing into my inevitable death.
It feels pointless to continue hoping, and I begin to rationalize the fact that I may never see life again. I’m going to live the remaining hours of my life out here, alone on the raging sea. Doomed to die a slow death of starvation amongst the waves. Eventually, my deceased body will be tossed from this boat and eaten by passing fish, my decomposing bones falling silently to the ocean floor far below. And soon I, Draven Lightfoot, Master Amongst Thieves, as well as my legacy, will forever be lost to the sea. Lost and forgotten like a leaf, taken from the branches of a dying tree on a windy autumn day.
I sigh outwardly, not that anyone or anything will hear, and I slump into the depths of my small boat. The wet wood is hard and uncomfortable against my back. The never-ending spray of the sea chills me to my very bones. I lay there and try to relax, quietly accepting my unavoidable fate.
The darkness of the night closes in around me and I close my eyes, trying to remember a happier time. As I lay there, the waves splashing endlessly against the side of my boat, I think of one person, Valena. Her smile, her flawless coffee colored skin, her round hazel eyes, all of them bringing me back to a time before I became so helplessly lost and depressed.
I open my eyes, letting a single tear roll out and join the other pools of water collecting in the bottom of the boat.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the thick gray clouds far above me. Just then, I see a single star, shining like a beacon in the cloudy night sky. Then, a break in the clouds reveals hundreds of twinkling stars in the night. Their glimmering shapes are the only beauty I have seen in the world as of late, and they give me some peace as I drift quietly into sleep.
As I wake the next day, with my throat dry and my eyes still heavy with sleep, a light rain begins to fall, creating a haze of fog over the rolling waters. By mid-morning, the rain has stopped and there is a break in the heavy cloud surrounding the boat. I am finally able to see the western horizon, and to my surprise, just beyond my eyesight, there is the black outline of a large landmass, signaling at last the existence of dry land, and quite possibly even promising my escape from this situation.
Determination keeps me awake as I float westward for the rest of the day, occasionally using my tired and weakened arms to steer the small craft. As dusk approaches I am near enough to the landmass to begin to make out the finer details.
Emerging from the turbulent sea, I see a massive white stone tower atop a cliff of dark rock. The bright stone catches the dying rays of sunlight and sends glittering reflections off into the gray water below it. At the base of the white structure, cascading down a large hill is a city, built in great rings, with the tower serving as a glimmering monument of hope in its center.
This is the first sign of civilization that I’ve seen since I was exiled, and I can’t help but feel a little hopeful. But another part of me – the realistic part – is dreading any sort of interaction with a living being. That’s because the last person I saw was the man I thought to be a close friend, Thorin Ironblood.
Thorin, the very man who betrayed me, and turned me into the guard of King Tristan minutes before I could crack the lock of his infamous vault and steal the legendary Celestine Diamond. Thorin, the very man who stood idly by at my trial watching the King indirectly sentence me to death via exile. Thorin, who’s very actions set me afloat the western sea; Lost, confused, and alone.
I know that was merely three days ago, but all of it now seems like a distant memory. A memory I push away in favor of realistic optimism about my situation as I float ever closer to the island and the refuge of the marble tower.
By the time my boat has gently washed itself up on the white sand beaches of the island the sun is quickly disappearing to the west. With some effort, I haul my exhausted body from the only vessel of my safety and gather up my few meager belongings. I grab my pack, which, along with my two sets of clothes, is soaked through with seawater. Slinging the wet bag over my body, I bend down and retrieve my Dispersion Cloak from the warped wooden bottom of the boat, wrapping it around my slim shoulders and hugging it for any remnants of warmth. Finally, I strap my twin blades, Shadow and Twilight to their place on my belt.
Setting off toward the city on the hill, it is almost immediately apparent that I will not be able to scale the cliff in front of me. Even in broad daylight at full strength, its sheer jagged face would provide few handholds.
I scan the landscape and in the fading light, looking for an alternate route. And to my immense relief, I see a dirt path leading away from the beach and up into the grassy hills around the village.
Following the path up a steep hill, I come to its crest and stand above the beach, the top of the hill serving as a nice vantage point to assess my surroundings from.
Immediately, dread begins to fill my entire body. What I took for a great city surrounding the majestic tower, is anything but.
Instead, I see a broken and ruined village, constructed in concentric circles, the outer walls vaguely resembling the rudimentary shape of a sun. The houses radiate outward from the white tower, which now, instead of being a beacon of hope, stands forebodingly at the village center. Even from here, the stench of death hangs faintly in the air over the depressing landscape. Charred houses lay neglected and crumbling, their blackened remains a stark contrast to the village’s former glory.
“FUCK!” I scream, kicking aimlessly at the closest object to me, which happens to be a large stick. Immediately, I regret it, my throat is raw, and screaming has only made the cracking pain worse. This coupled with the resounding crack from my toe and the fiery pain now shooting through my foot, only adds to my shitty mood.
Like a battering ram, I am hit by a wave of emotions all at once. My earlier feelings of despair have now been taken over by alternating cycles of stinging anger and disappointment. I slump to the ground, my tired body grateful for the respite. And before I can stop to process my emotions, I am weeping. Not out of sadness for the people of this village, I couldn’t care less about them or the lives they may have led. Nor do I cry out of disappointment, I am an exile, I should’ve known this would match my luck. I cry at the complete and utter lack of hope that runs through every ounce of my being. For a moment, I had so much hope, so much excitement at the prospect of starting over, and in a matter of seconds, it was taken from me, crushed, and stomped on by a cruel merciless god.
As I sit at the top of the hill and weep, I come to a horrific realization. I may not be alone on this island. If there was something that could devastate this once glorious village, then that same something could easily devastate me. I may be filled with immeasurable disappointment, I may be losing all remnants of hope. But, I am still clinging to some semblance of my self-preservation instinct. An instinct that won’t let me give up and die. I know, regardless of what tomorrow might bring, that the white tower is my best chance of survival, at least for tonight. So, with my last remaining shreds of strength, I pull myself to my feet and start trudging towards the village. As I do so, I am truly unsure if I may ever feel a positive emotion again.
It seems like hours before I am able to reach the outskirts of the village. The closer I get, the stronger the stench of decay becomes. What was before a vague hint of the smell is now a wall of impenetrable permeation. By the time I reach the very first outer ring of houses, I am barely able to contain my sickness and I promptly fall to my knees for the second time in as many hours. Not overcome this time with emotion, but a primal, animalistic sickness. One that wracks my whole body as I gag horribly and throw up the meager contents of my stomach.
Standing shakily, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and I’m not surprised to see it come away covered in viscous vomit and streaks of dark red blood. I spit up the last remaining contents of my stomach before sighing and continue into the village.
Everything around me is so much worse than I previously thought. I stand in the first of the five rings, this one seems to be the least affected by the decay and destruction that fills the other rings. The houses here are mostly intact and most of the charred rubble exists in quantities no more than would be expected of a small house fire.
It is the second and third rings where the true nature of this destruction begins to show. Immediately upon entering the second ring, I notice the bodies. At first, there are only a few scattered about, and whilst I pity that they lay unburied, I have no sadness for them. It is only when I stumble upon a large pile of corpses, twenty high, that I begin to think about the implications of it all. I am one man, talented yes, but not talented enough to kill a creature or group of creatures capable of destroying a well-fortified town like this one.
I reach a gate, broken and rotting. Its derelict frame opens to reveal the fourth ring. Immediately I know that this must be some new form of hell. The bodies here are stacked doubly as high as before. Some bodies have yellow pustules brimming with foul fluids covering their remaining skin. Rats, the size of my boot, scurry to and fro, with seemingly no regard for me.
A snap behind me catches my attention and I whirl around in one fluid motion, drawing Shadow from my hip as I do so. Scanning the desolate village behind me, I see nothing but the flies buzzing around the piles of corpses. But now I’m on my guard, I pull my rock-gray cloak up around me a little tighter, and I slide into the shadows of the broken village, attempting to disappear completely from whoever or whatever is following me.
Sliding into the shadows like this, for the first time since my exile, is comforting, a familiar feeling, reminiscent of a time long ago when I was still training to become a thief…
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A Year Ago - Draven’s Tower
The sun shines over the city of Danor as I rise up and begin my training for the day. I start, as I usually do by stretching every muscle in my body, working diligently on my flexibility. As I do so, I think about what my mentor, and occasional lover, Valena always taught me, “The best thieves should always be able to find a career in gymnastics. Keep both your mind and body flexible young squire.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
After stretching for about fifteen minutes, I strap on my shoes, preparing to go for a brisk morning run. As I do so, I am surprised to see the door open, followed by Valena entering my room. I look at her as she steps into the sunlight of the circular room, and silently admire her lethal beauty. She is dressed to kill, literally. She is wearing her suit of red leather armor, an old thieves' guild trick used for hiding the blood of our enemies. Her long brown hair is tied into a tight, professional ponytail. Her rich amber skin glistened in the morning sunlight.
“Morning Val,” I say, finishing the lacing on my shoes. “What brings you here at such an early hour? I didn’t expect to see you until almost noon.”
“I think it’s time you finally finish your training,” She says, stepping towards me, and extending her hand.
I take note of her voice, dulcetly filling the room around us, and my heart flutters slightly.
“And how might I do that?” I playfully inquire, under the impression that this invitation may be a precursor to something more.
She laughs, “Cut the shit Draven. I’m serious. I think it’s finally time you learned how to use the shadows.”
Her words no longer strike me as playful. They feel serious, maybe even too serious. I stand up from the bed and straighten myself out as she approaches.
“Oh? What do you mean by 'using the shadows?'”
"Blend into the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Learn to hide in plain sight. It is a skill that all thieves know, but only a few master."
She unslings a black bag from behind her and lowers it to the bed next to me.
“Take this.” She says, retrieving a dark gray cloak from her bag and tossing it into my lap. “It will help you understand what I'm talking about.”
I look at the cloak. It is made from a material unfamiliar to me. The fabric is dark gray and it shimmers as I pass it through my hands. Like water, it flows, blending into itself, with no traces of depth or folds in the odd material. Donning the cloak, I am astounded at its lightness. It barely feels as if I am wearing anything at all. I look up at Val.
“This is beautiful…”
“What you wear now is known simply as a Dispersion Cloak. Built specifically to help people like us, thieves, blend into our surroundings. The material breaks up the natural form of your body and allows you to blend into your environment. In the shadows, you will become damn near invisible. Follow me, I’ll show you what I mean.”
I follow her out of the door, watching the cloak carefully as I do so.
“So,” I say, sidling up next to Val in the dimly lit stairwell, “Use the shadows? I’m still a bit confused about what you mean by that”
“Just trust me, watch the cloak.”
I look at the cloak, and I notice that the shimmering material has begun to reflect the wooden walls of the stairwell. The dark gray material blends with the deep brown hues of the wood making the cloak almost imperceptible.
“See what I mean?” Val asks, vaguely amused at the look of shock spreading across my face.
“That’s… magical,”
“Not magical, just made by master artisans within the guild.”
“Fair enough. So how exactly will this help me in my training?”
“As I said before, when in the correct hands, a dispersion cloak can make its wearer damn near invisible.” She explains, hopping deftly down the last few stairs.
“So you’ve made me harder to spot. I was already pretty good at sneaking around.” I quip.
“Be that as it may. Were you invisible?” Val asks pointedly.
“No,” I admit.
“Well, now you are.” She says with a smirk.
She opens the door into the blinding morning sun. The cloak immediately shifts and moves, reflecting the myriad of colors that flood over it.
“Remember the rudimentary games of hide and seek we played as children? Now as adults, we will play them again. You will hide, aided by the dispersion cloak, and I will seek aided only by my own eyes and ears. By the end of thirty minutes, if I have not found you, then I will proclaim you a worthy thief.”
She smiles, beautifully, a hint of sinister fun behind her eyes.
“And if you lose, I will reclaim my cloak, as well as any other clothes of yours that I deem unfit for a thief.”
She looks at me, with a knowing grin as the implication lingers in the air. Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she turns to face away from me.
“You have 300 seconds, the whole city is fair game. Go!”
She begins to count, quickly and without further question, I dash off into the bustling streets of Danor.
Almost immediately, I merge into a crowd of people walking north on Liberty Street. I find myself in the middle of the group, blending in easily. Just for fun, I palm the coin purse from the nearest man to me. But truly this is elementary, I may be invisible to an untrained eye, but Valena is not untrained, nor is she naive. She watched me slip into this crowd and probably immediately memorized key details about them. Such as the green tunic the man up front is wearing. Or the gold-plated shield the man to my left carries on his back. I have to move on, and quickly.
As the group passes by an alley, I quickly duck in and slip into the shadows cast by the building. Almost immediately I see what Val meant by almost invisible. Instead of reflecting and shimmering the light from the sun and brightly shimmering, my cloak now reflects the dark brick behind me, the cobbled streets at my feet, and the black wrought iron of the gate in front of me. I realize now that this is what Val talked about when she said “use the shadows.”
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The memory invoked by sliding into the shadows is abrupt and emotionally shattering. I can’t think about that now, Val is an important part of me, however, she is now long in my past, gone but not forgotten. But I know I can’t stop to reminisce, I have to keep pushing onward, through the rings of this hellish village. I pull my cloak, the same cloak, tighter around my body and continue pushing on.
Now, as I creep further into the rings of the village, I focus on becoming hyper-aware of my surroundings. I know there is something following me, but I am yet unsure if it is hostile. I scan the buildings behind me looking for any signs of life.
I walk on for breathless minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of this thing. My efforts are rewarded when, upon entering the fifth and final ring, I catch a glimpse of a shadow, flitting between alleyways to my right. Quickly assessing the situation, I conclude that whatever is following me is not human, and it is stalking me, it is a predator, quietly hunting its prey.
I hike up the final stretch of road, and I am in the shadow of the White Tower. I notice now a large sun, painted with orange paint now dull and cracked, that lies on the east side of the tower. Below the sun symbol, is a heavy wooden door which I now stand no more than a hundred feet from.
An instinct in my head tells me to duck, and without taking an extra millisecond to think about it, I do. Thankfully, I didn’t hesitate, because just as my body curls up, tucking itself away, a claw comes swinging over my head. It rushes past, razor-sharp and talon-like, passing through the area just seconds ago occupied by my head.
Pivoting hard and fast on my right foot, I turn and raise Twilight in a defensive position, whilst at the same time drawing Shadow from my belt. As I do so, however, I almost drop my swords in sheer shock and horror.
In front of me stands the foulest beast I have ever seen. Vaguely humanoid, the hulking monster stands at a staggering six feet tall. It has an elongated, wolf-like face, huge, powerful arms, and a massive frame that seemed to block out any light coming from the moon, now high in the sky. Its flesh is rotted and peeling, covered in those same yellow pustules I’ve seen all over bodies in the village. Slobber hangs in long sinewy ropes from its rabid jaws. And its body is filled with cavities infested with all sorts of creatures that feed on the carrion, maggots squirm over every part of exposed inner flesh. But worst of all, are the creature’s eyes. They are huge, evil eyes, bloodshot, and filled with complete hostility. This creature wants nothing more than to feast on my flesh, I’m damn sure of it.
All of this, I take in within seconds, which happens to be all the time I have. As I stand there reeling in shock at the creature's hellish appearance, it swings another claw my way. I bring Twilight up from my right hand and deflect the claw with the flat of the blade. Doing so surprises the creature, and it takes a moment to possibly reassess its attacks. That’s all the time I need to step deftly in with my left foot, swinging Shadow up and into the beast’s exposed ribcage. It doesn’t do much more than scratch the beast, but my sword has now laid in a wound, and I have proven myself to be a formidable enemy, something the beast was not ready for. The beast lets out a terrible roar, directly next to my ear, and I stagger back, momentarily deafened by the sound. The beast reads this as an opportunity and viciously lunges at me, jaw agape. I may be deafened, but I am not yet fighting like a fool. I saw this attack coming and have prepared for it. As if I were hunting a boar with a great spear, I drop to one knee and hold Twilight up at a vertical angle. And as the creature lunges, it plows its neck directly into the blade. Hot, thick blood pours down my blade in buckets, quickly wetting both the blade and my exposed hand, as well as splattering messily onto my cloak.
“You ugly bastard,” I say through gritted teeth, “You just got blood on my cloak.”
Even though I know the beast can't understand me, I swear I see realization run through its bloodied eyes. I grip the hilt of Twilight and in one fluid circular motion, I wrench the blade around and through the beast’s thick neck, severing the head, which falls to the ground with a satisfying thud.
I breathe heavily, far more winded than I should be. I kick the creature once in the side for good measure and hear a satisfying crunch as I undoubtedly crush half of its rotted ribcage. I hastily retrieve Twilight from the creature’s neck. The ground around the body is soaked with blood and gore, both of which are still pouring from the large wound. I clean my blade with a discarded tunic I find lying on a nearby corpse, and sheath both of my swords.
I refocus my attention on the tower door. There, standing in the doorway is a man. Not a beast, or a horrid approximation of a man. A real, truly living man. I shout out, calling out to him.
“Hey!” My voice is raw and scratchy, but I shout anyway. “Help me. Please…”
The man stays still in the doorway, remaining expressionless. I take a few staggering steps towards him, closing about a quarter of the distance. And suddenly, my knees feel weak, my head begins to spin, and darkness clouds the edge of my vision.
I look down, my vision blurred, and notice a large, deep scratch running down my arm. Blood is pooling around the wound and begins to coagulate towards the edges, but the center of the wound is pouring dark blood. I must have gotten it from my fight with the creature, but I don’t remember taking a hit, nor do I feel any amount of pain. All I feel, as I slip into sleep, is an icy chill running down my arm. And then I slump to the ground like a sack of bricks, exhausted, starved, and bleeding out. My only hope is placed in the kindness of an expressionless man, a mere fifty feet away who doesn’t seem to give a shit about me or my inevitable death.