Shalnark rhythmically tapped the tip of his dagger against Moneybags’ counter as he awaited the appraisal of his latest haul. His gaze wandered towards an ornate silver mirror, which hung on the wall with a hefty price written underneath. He noticed his nose still resembled the crooked beak-like snout of his mark’s butler’s face. With a hint of concentration, he transformed it back to its typical round, perfect shape.
“Could you not do that in front of me?” Moneybags said, a magnifying monocle on his eye. “Hearing your flesh contort is sickening.”
“Sorry,” Shalnark said, peering into the mirror as if he was looking for loose hairs after a shave. “Sometimes I miss a few spots when I’m shifting my face. I am a sculptor and my body the clay.”
The short gnome pulled off his monocle and gave Shalnark a once over. “You can make yourself look like anyone, and you choose to look like a cooked salmon?”
“Pretty people draw too much attention to themselves.” Shalnark sheathed his dagger under his sleeve. “Attention is bad for business.”
“Speaking of business . . .” Moneybags wiggled his black mustache and tossed half of Shalnark’s stolen jewelry haul back to him. “Half of this loot is garbage. The other half couldn’t be given away.”
Shalnark’s heart sank. “What? I risked my life to swipe all this from the duchess. She even kept it all in a lock box that took me nearly three hours to break into. It has to be worth something.”
“Nope. This isn’t even real silver, and the gems are glass, see?” Moneybags gave Shalnark his monocle and pointed to one of the rings. “See the heavy wear along the facets? Gems should not have that.”
“Gods damn it!” Shalnark yelled, kicking the counter. His anger numbed the pain. “What is a duchess doing with this much fake jewelry? Aren’t they meant to be wealthy rulers?!”
“The nobles don’t have as much wealth and power as they once did, my friend,” replied Moneybags. “Times are changing. As the peasants and merchants get richer, the nobles get weaker.”
Shalnark sighed as he ran his hands down his face. “This heist was supposed to get me the last load of silver I needed to charter the ship.”
“How much did you need?”
“The captain said his ship could take me downriver and across the sea for fourteen sovereigns. I have saved up ten, but the ship is setting sail in three weeks from Port Lood.”
“It’ll take you two weeks to get there by horse, assuming you have one.”
“I don’t think I’ll meet another crazed sea-faring adventurer anytime soon. If I miss this window, I may be forced to live in this forsaken continent for another few years.”
“Travenhall is one of the richest and most prosperous lands of our time, boy. What foreign land could possibly be better?”
“Trust me, Moneybags. Where I’m from, Travenhall would look like a backwater slum in comparison.”
Moneybags rolled his eyes. “So you’ve claimed.”
Shalnark leaned into the wall and grabbed his chin. “That heist took weeks of planning and carefully-designed disguises. I spent two sovereigns in expenses for this heist, expecting it to net another two!”
“You could always take a loan from the Honorless. They could easily toss you four sovereigns or four hundred silver if you want it that way.”
“Everyone knows the Honorless are among the worst loan sharks in the empire, and among the most ruthless.”
“If you are sailing away as far as you say you are, then what are you worried about?”
“I always pay my debts,” Shalnark said sticking a finger in Moneybags’ face. “Taking a loan from them will be my absolute last resort. But it just might be . . .” He ran his hand through his thin brown hair. “I can’t think of another way to steal four sovereigns in less than a week if all the nobles have to their names is land and authority. Hells, it took me three years just to acquire what I have now.”
“Well . . .” Moneybags scratched his cheek with his finger. “I may know someone who can help you.”
Shalnark perked up. “Name them.”
“You ever hear of Lockpick Lenny?”
“The man was a local legend. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to not know who he was.”
“Is,” Moneybags corrected. “Lenny is alive and well.”
“Seriously? Some of the legends I’ve heard of Lockpick Lenny go back over eighty years. If he is a human, wouldn’t he be so old that he can barely move?”
“Hells if I know. I don’t keep track of how long the other species live.”
“Perhaps the name is an alias passed down generations or something. Isn’t he long-retired, though?”
“He is, but there is one job he has been wanting to attempt his entire life but never felt he had the right crew to pull it off. Said it would be his biggest haul yet. Perhaps a man with your magic and skills could convince him to give it a go before he kicks the bucket.”
“I don’t know, Moneybags.” Shalnark rubbed the nape of his neck. “I prefer to work alone. The last time I worked with a crew, things didn’t go well.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, any professional burglar would kill to have a chance to work with the local legend.”
“You’re right . . . I imagine a professional like him isn’t easy to find.”
“Normally the man would be a ghost, but no one knows him better than me. Lenny is a pale-skinned human that frequents the Low Brow pub in the outskirts to piss away his fortune. Prefers cheap ale over expensive wine. Look for a tattoo of a coiled snake on his hand, and you’ll know you have the right human.”
“Thanks for the tip, Moneybags.”
Moneybags waved away Shalnark. “Bring me something real next time, will ya? My stores are running thin.”
“I'll do my best.” Shalnark reached over the counter to shake hands.
Moneybags grasped Shalnark’s hand with his tiny one. “You take care out there.”
“I always do.”
Though he had been stranded in the Travenhall Empire for years, Shalnark could never get used to the putrid stench of its cities. The further he strayed from the central districts, the more the streets of Oxgate resembled a barn. Animals were practically given free rein of the buildings and streets. Shalnark could not imagine a man as wealthy as Lockpick Lenny spending a single moment among the filth, much less spending every night at their tavern.
The Low Brow pub was an establishment run by ogres, but it was filled with a variety of degenerates and drunks of all species. It did not take long for Shalnark to spot Lenny with the coiled snake tattoo that decorated his hand as his long-fingered hands wrapped around the side of his tankard. He was a skinny twig of a man with dark grey hair tied into braids behind his head. He looked old, but certainly not eighty years old. Raggedy old clothes covered his body, practically more patch than tunic. The corner of his lip was cocked up as if he was in a constant state of disgust. A chill ran down Shalnark’s spine when their eyes met. He felt he had no choice then but to approach.
Shalnark took a seat across the table. “Lockpick Lenny?”
Lenny bent his brow and slowly reached for his belt.
Shalnark put his hands face down on the table. “Moneybags sent me. I’m here about a job. From the looks of you, I think you could use one.”
Lenny’s thick brow raised as his crooked mouth cracked into a smirk. “What can I say? I hate wasting things.” He crossed his fingers over the table. “So what did old Moneybags tell you?”
“That you have a dream job but have never had the right crew to get it done. Didn’t say what it was, though.”
“What makes you think you are the man to convince me to come out of retirement?”
Shalnark peeked over his shoulders to assure no one was watching. He stared deep into Lenny’s face and grew his nose to match the other man’s large, beak-like nose.
Lenny nodded with a growing smile. “So you’re a magician of some kind . . . Or perhaps something else?”
“I don’t know what I am. I can just transform into other people to a degree. My skin, face, and hair are under my complete control.”
“Hmm . . .” Lenny eyed Shalnark up and down and sniffed the air around him.
Shalnark leaned back, unsure of what the Hells Lenny was doing. “I . . . am also an accomplished climber, acrobat, and escape artist. Not bad with a blade, either.”
“I think you may be just the man I’ve been waiting for, Mr. . . .”
“Shalnark. Just Shalnark.”
“Shalnark. A man of your talents and skillset is precisely what I need to pull off the greatest heist of my career.”
“And what would that be?” Shalnark asked, leaning in.
“You see, Shalnark, I’ve lived on this world for many Azure Moons. I’ve picked countless pockets, burgled the largest of estates, and have collected more silver than most nobles see in their entire lives. But in all my years, there is still one thing that has robbed more people than I could ever dream of matching.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“The Church of the Holy Trinity. Ever since the peasantry accumulated land of their own, the church has been increasing their tithes of the regular folk and reducing their tithes on the rich. You would think this would lower their total income, but the opposite is true. Imagine plucking one silver from every pocket in the city and putting it all in one place.”
“Gods . . . that would be tens of thousands of silver pieces.”
“Precisely. The Church collects this immense fortune every month. Every. Single. Month. So long as they exist, I can never claim the title as the best thief in Oxgate.”
“Seems a bit unfair to compare yourself to the most powerful people in the empire.”
“All the same, I wish to put them in their place. When I ran with the Honorless in Trinity City, we regularly bent those holy cunts over a barrel. I wish to do it once more before putting my lockpicks away for good.”
“So what are you suggesting, exactly?”
“Shalnark, my boy, I want to rob Saint Vicheal’s Cathedral.”
Shalnark chuckled, thinking that Lenny was joking, but his maniacal smirk was difficult to read. “You can’t be serious. That place is an absolute fortress filled to the brim with highly trained Holy Knights, with guns. One wrong move and they will turn us into cheese.”
“As I said, it can be done. You just need the right crew. Hells, with your powers, you could do this by yourself—with my guidance.”
“I assume you already have a plan?”
“My boy, I always have a plan. It’s the details that need to be written out.” Lenny pulled out a sharp lockpick and began carving into the table. “You are right about one thing. The church grounds are built like a fortress. Inside that fortress is a treasury that holds all the church’s donations and their most treasured artifacts. This treasury is kept shut by a single lock, one so intricate and complex that even I could never hope to pick it in less than a week. The only way in is with a key.”
“So without this key, breaking into this place would be fruitless.”
“That’s where you come in, my shape-shifting friend. You see, there are only two people in the entire city that have access to that vault. The archbishop, and his appointed treasurer. Since the archbishop is away on campaign, that just leaves the treasurer, Father Breck Revard.” Lenny waved a hand in front of his face. “Get ahold of this priest, copy his likeness, and the vault will be yours to breach.”
“You make it sound simple, but you fail to see how insanely difficult it will be to kidnap a priest.”
“And here I thought I was working with a professional! If you can’t find a way to get to the priest, there is nothing left for us to talk about.”
Shalnark bit his finger. “I’ll figure something out. I usually do.”
Lenny chuckled. “You complete me, Mr. Shalnark. I think you are just what I need to see my final job through.”
“I’m honored to get to work with a local legend.”
“While you are securing the key and disguise, I’m going to secure your escape plan. You won’t be able to simply walk out of the church grounds through the gates with a bag full of priceless artifacts. The most you could walk out of there with is perhaps a few bags of silver, which is barely worth the effort.”
“Damn, Lockpick . . . This just might work.”
“It will work, Shalnark.” The two thieves shook hands over the table. “Within the next few days, you will be one of the richest thieves in Oxgate.”
Shalnark left Lockpick Lenny at the tavern and made his way down the slums to the hideout he had constructed under an abandoned building. It was disgusting, but he didn’t need to pay taxes. He undid his tool belt and tossed it onto the straw bed in the corner of his one-room home. A full-length mirror that Shalnark had stolen from a traveling merchant leaned against the wall. When Shalnark looked into this mirror, he did not see himself. Instead, he saw the image of his old friend Ebennen, wearing his current outfit.
“Tough break,” Ebennen said from the mirror. “That jewelry may have been fake, but you could have at least kept it for me to use for our next disguise.”
“Sorry,” Shalnark said. “I’ll buy you some cheap bronze shit next chance I get.”
In the deep recesses of his mind, Shalnark knew he was talking to himself in the mirror while transformed into his old friend from home. But he would never admit it to himself, preferring to entertain this delusion rather than face his crippling fear of loneliness.
“You aren’t seriously thinking of robbing a church, are you?” Ebennen asked.
“Why not? It's not as if we have ever had much of a relationship with the Gods of this land.”
“No, but do you have any idea how dangerous this could be? The Church of the Holy Trinity is one of the most powerful forces in the empire.”
“I don’t need to bleed them dry,” Shalnark said, slipping off his shoes. “I just need enough to get us on that crazy sailor’s ship. We can slip in, fill a sack with coin, and slip out.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Ebennen asked with his palms to the air.
“You heard Lockpick. I just need to build a disguise of Father Revard and then we can walk on in.”
“That’s not going to be nearly as simple as he made it out to be at the tavern.”
“You let me worry about getting him. You just worry about getting us in there and using that famous theatre talent of yours to get us to the vault.”
Shalnark scooted the mirror aside to reveal a loose brick in the wall. Behind it was all the silver, gold, and gems he had accumulated over the past three years in two large sacks.
When he put the mirror back, Ebennen asked, “Do you even have a plan?”
Shalnark tossed the sacks of silver in the air and caught them. He smirked as he remembered Lenny’s words. “I always have a plan.”
The number of double rainbows Shalnark had seen in his twenty-two years was greater than the number of times he had stepped foot in a church. There was only one deity he put his faith in, and she had no church or altar to her name, nor did she ever demand one. When Shalnark stood in the presence of the massive stone monstrosity that was the Oxgate Cathedral, all he could do was shake his head in disgust.
What a waste. You could have fed this entire city for years with the funds used to build this church.
True, Ebennen responded from within Shalnark’s mind. But then we wouldn’t have this pretty building to look at.
Shalnark stepped inside the cathedral dressed in some upper-class clothing that he had stolen on his last heist. It was so strange to him that the richer you were, the less comfortable you were allowed to dress. He held a large bag of silver in each hand, each worth about four sovereigns. He made a big show of prancing about the cathedral with his large sacks of money until he was quickly approached by a priest.
“Greetings, priest of . . .” Shalnark couldn’t remember the names of the Holy Trinity.
Best let me do this, Ebennen said. You are a horrible actor.
“Qitos, my son,” the priest said.
“Right! Greetings, priest of Qitos,” Ebennen said through Shalnark’s lips as he assumed control. “I have journeyed far across the empire, dividing my wealth among the cathedrals. I am on a pilgrimage.”
The priest’s eyes beamed with excitement. “That appears to be quite the sum! Is all of that silver a tithe for this church?”
“Indeed it is! I pray that you will use it wisely to keep the palace of the Trinity in its best shape.” The priest reached for the silver, but Ebennen pulled it back. “I would prefer to give this silver to Father Revard personally. I have seen too many tithes find their way into the pockets of the unrighteous. I hope you understand.”
The priest growled. “If you insist, sir . . .”
Unbelievable, Shalnark said. Been in here for less than five minutes and already they try to rob us.
Quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.
The priest of Qitos went behind the stone screen that separated the common place of worship from the choir where the monks and priests held their services. He returned with a balding human, who wore the same robes as the priests but with an ornate red lining.
That must be our man, Shalnark said. Get a good look at him.
“Greetings, my Lord,” Father Revard said. “My name is Father Revard. I am the treasurer of this palace of the Gods. I understand you are making quite the generous donation today?”
“I intend to, Father.”
“I will see to it that your tithe makes its way into the vault of the gods.” Father Revard reached for Ebennen’s silver, but he retracted it once more.
“Forgive me, Father, but my worried mind must be put at ease. I have been deceived by far less holy priests in Evintia and had much of my tithe stolen. How am I to be sure that your cathedral’s vaults are secure?”
Father Revard smirked and pulled a large, intricate key necklace from under his robe. “You see this key? It is the only thing capable of opening our vault. No thief in this empire can bypass the lock without it. I have sworn on the three bibles to guard the wealth of the Gods with my life, and will never break that oath for fear of being cast into the Seven Hells.”
“That key is truly magnificent! May I hold it?”
Father Revard was clearly very proud of this mediocre duty he was entrusted with. Ebennen was a master of manipulating people’s pride.
“Oh? Well, of course, my son,” Father Revard said as he proudly handed Ebennen the key.
The key was shaped like a small knife with a sharp point at its tip. Its center was empty, with key-like protrusions facing inward rather than outward, as keys normally had. Its design was so intricate and specific that only the best artisan could hope to replicate it.
Damn . . . Lockpick wasn’t kidding about this key, Shalnark thought. These Travens may be primitive compared to our homeland, but their locks are something to behold.
“It is quite beautiful. I can see now that my tithe will be safe behind such a lock. May I see the vault, too?”
Father Revard took the key back and said, “I’m afraid not, child. The treasury is accessible only to the clergy.”
It was worth a try, Ebennen said. “I understand.” He handed Father Revard the sacks of silver. Shalnark groaned as he watched his hard-earned silver exchange hands.
Don’t you worry, my shining children. I’m coming back for you soon.
“Your tithe is well received, faithful pilgrim. If the archbishop was here, I’m sure he would love to bless you in person.”
“It's quite all right. The gratitude of the Trinity is all I need.” Ebennen bowed.
“May the Gods keep you safe on your pilgrimage,” Father Revard said as he bowed back.
As he was leaving, Shalnark said, You think you got a good enough look to make a disguise?
Mostly. It’d be better if I could make it while I look at him for reference. Sculpting from memory is quite difficult, you know.
We will need to get our hands on that key anyway.
How do you plan to do that? Ebennen asked.
That treasurer just got two full sacks of silver in his hands, and he gave you a look like it was his birthday. I’d bet double that amount that he will grab a handful before he even reaches the treasury. I’m curious to see where he intends to spend it. We’ll stake out the abbey and see where he goes.
Watching the comings and goings of a cathedral had to be the most tedious thing Shalnark had ever been forced to witness. He dared not doze off, however, for he needed to keep a sharp eye out for Father Revard. His robes betrayed his identity from the sea of white-robed monks, but there were so many people who frequented the church grounds that it would be easy to miss him.
Shalnark watched intently for hours before switching control over to Ebennen to give himself a mental break. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that Father Revard finally showed himself.
Shalnark, there he is.
Father Revard was leaving the tall gates of the church grounds, accompanied by two heavily-armed Holy Knights. He tucked a small bag of silver under the sleeves of his robes.
Shiiiit, Shalnark groaned. I didn’t think he’d have any muscle with him. You think I could take them?
If you were about ten inches taller or armed with a Geergan gun, perhaps. Should we go get Lockpick?
There’s no time, Shalnark said. We can’t afford to lose the priest now. Where do you think he’s going?
Well, it’s nearing the dead of night and I can practically hear the jangle of the coins on his belt from here. Could be going to a tavern in search of a game of dice.
No . . . Shalnark pondered. He has no need for more silver if he can just pull more from the next rich pilgrim. I think he’s going to spend that silver somewhere.
Well, judging by the way he’s licking his lips, he is either going to buy a cart full of melons . . .
“Or a whore,” Shalnark said aloud as he retook control.
There was a brothel just at the edge of the city. Suspiciously, every other brothel or tavern that sold women had been bought out and shut down by the church. All except the Warm Lap.
Shalnark sped across the rooftops of Oxgate to make it to the brothel long before Father Revard was expected to arrive. The tightly-packed buildings made it easy for a brave acrobat like Shalnark to fly through the large city. It took him nearly half the time it would have taken a standard pedestrian to travel that distance through the roads. Upon arriving, he climbed down into the alley that bordered the brothel.
So, we’ve guessed where he’s going. How do you plan to get ahold of the key?
Shalnark noticed a puddle forming in the alley and looked inside. You remember that time we disguised ourselves as that gorgeous gypsy to fool that guard at Rorfeld?
Yes . . . Ebennen groaned. You promised I’d never have to do that again.
No, I said I would try to find another way next time. Since I can’t think of another plan, it seems this is our only option. Besides, I thought you could play any role.
I can, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Just make the disguise and let me do all the talking. Can you do it or not?
I can do it . . . and I’ll do the talking. You’ll just muck it up like you always do.
Shalnark surrendered control back to Ebennen. Using the puddle as a mirror, he crafted the most perfectly-proportioned face he could muster. Ebennen himself had more of a taste for men, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know feminine beauty when he saw it. He likely understood beauty better than any man alive.
His hair lightened to blonde. The nose shrank. The cheeks rounded. The skin smoothened. Ebennen did not just wish to create a beautiful woman; he wanted to create the most enticing woman a brothel-frequenting degenerate could lust after. Lines of sheets and clothes from the brothel hung from the walls of the alley, out to dry. Ebennen picked through the clothes until he found an outfit he was satisfied with.
Shalnark’s shapeshifting power was very superficial. Though he could change the features of his face, skin, and figure to a degree, he could not change much of his skeleton, muscles, or organs. This meant that Ebennen would need to take special care to hide his genitals, for he could not completely transform them. With his form and outfit finalized, Ebennen had changed Shalnark from a scowling rapscallion into a true lady of the night.
This feels wrong, Ebennen complained, his soft new hands feeling his soft new face.
It is wrong. Everything about this forsaken nation is wrong. Now get in there, you filthy whore.
You aren’t funny, Shalnark. Ebennen peeked out from behind the alley. He isn’t here yet. Think we made a mistake?
Give it a bit. A man of his age likely shuffles more than he walks.
Just as Shalnark spoke, Ebennen spotted Father Revard rounding the corner of the block with his Holy Knight bodyguards in tow.
Do I know people, or do I know people? Shalnark boasted.
I suppose this is where I make my entrance . . .
Several other ladies of the night lingered outside the brothel, hoping to attract a drunken laborer and seduce him for his silver. The competition seemed fierce, but Ebennen’s lusty masterpiece truly stood out in a crowd. This was mainly because he was surely the oldest person there at twenty-two years.
This place needs to be burned to the ground, Ebennen said.
Focus, Ebennen. We’re here for robbery, not arson.
As Father Revard approached the brothel, it seemed he already knew who he was there to see. A young human girl stepped forth with a smile that clearly did not reach her eyes. The other girls hugged the wall as if they wanted to blend in with it entirely. Ebennen stayed as visible as possible. He popped one bony hip out and rubbed his arm with the other. He reddened his cheeks to appear bashful, his eyes tracking to the floor and back towards Revard. When their gazes met, Revard pivoted his approach away from the other girl and directly towards Ebennen.
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“I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, my dear,” the treasurer said, his breath reeking of ale.
“I just arrived in Oxgate, sir.”
“Did you come seeking . . .” Father Revard stroked Ebennen’s cheek with his crooked finger and lifted some silver from his belt bag, “opportunity?”
“I fled from the nunnery south of here. Are those knights here to take me back?”
A wicked smile ripped across Father Revard’s face. “No, my child. These men obey my every order. They will do no such thing while I am here.” He motioned towards the brothel. “Shall we go inside?”
Got him . . . Ebennen nodded as Father Revard put his arm around him.
“Wait out here,” Father Revard said to the Holy Knights.
The madam of the brothel gave Ebennen a sideways glance, clearly unsure of who he was, but when Father Revard handed her a fistful of silver, she shrugged and didn’t give him a second look.
“Second door on the left?” the madam asked.
“Always, Berma.”
“Had the girls spiff it up for ya. Hearth should be nice and warm. Have a pleasant evening.”
Shalnark regained control for the moment to scan the brothel for potential exits.
No glass windows—Good. No chimney either—Bad. Hearth in each room. Could make a steamy getaway if needed.
Ebennen took the reins again as Father Revard led him to their assigned room and locked the door behind them.
“Sir, I must admit I—”
Father Revard shoved himself onto Ebennen and pinned him into the wall. Before he could plant his disgusting tongue on him, Ebennen easily slipped free and backed away.
“What the Hells is this?” Father Revard growled.
“My apologies, sir. You just caught me off guard.”
A clumsy backhand swung across Ebennen’s face, Revard’s rings scraping across his cheeks. Ebennen fell to the floor, barely missing the corner of the hearth by an inch.
I’m going to kill this pig, Shalnark growled.
Stay put! Ebennen said. I’ve got this.
“How dare you take my silver and spurn me!” Father Revard grabbed Ebennen by the neck. “You ran away from the Gods. That makes you mine now.”
He squeezed so hard that Ebennen could not speak.
His face makes me sick. I’m going to grab that key and strangle him with it.
Shalnark, don’t!
Father Revard threw Ebennen face down on the floor and grabbed a fistful of his newly-grown hair.
“I want you to beg the Gods for forgiveness,” Father Revard said, lifting his robe.
Reflexively, Ebennen scratched at Father Revard’s hand, forgetting how long his nails were.
“Bitch!” Revard yelled as he shoved Ebennen’s face into the wooden floor.
He’s fucking dead.
Shaln—
Shalnark seized control and spun around on the floor. He threw a leg straight up towards Father Revard’s groin. Letting out a high-pitched squeal, the old bastard fell to his knees. Shalnark hopped up to his feet and grabbed the small coal shovel by the hearth. With a downward swing, he slapped Father Revard right in the peak of his misshaped head with the blade of the solid iron shovel.
Father Revard wheezed as his eyes crossed. He sounded like a dying donkey as his bellow echoed through the room. He clumsily stood back up, blood pouring from his skull. Shalnark grabbed the shovel with both hands and slapped it across Father Revard’s face, folding him over the frame of the bed with his pants around his ankles. Blood soaked into the sheets as the life left Father Revard’s eyes.
You think anyone heard that? Shalnark asked.
“Father?” a gruff, deep voice shouted from outside the door. “Father, are you alright?”
Shiiiiit.
Well, this is just fucking wonderful, Shalnark. I go through all this trouble just for you to lose your damn temper and ruin it all!
The Holy Knights knocked on the door. “Father Revard? Are you there? Open this door!”
Shit shit shit shit!
I’ve got an idea. Move over.
Ebennen shoved his way back into control and yanked the leather belt from around Revard’s robe. He flipped up the robe, exposing the father’s bare ass. The Holy Knights quickly barged through the door and were met with Father Revard’s full moon in direct view as Ebennen slapped it hard with the belt. The mighty knights immediately turned away in terror of what they just witnessed and shoved their way back out the door.
“Our apologies, Father Revard! We didn’t . . .”
“I told you to wait outside!” Ebennen yelled, his voice perfectly disguised as Revard’s. With their backs turned, the knights could not tell who the voice was coming from.
“We’ll just be going now, sir.”
“That would be best!”
When the metal clanking steps of the knights disappeared down the hallway, Ebennen finally let out his breath. He rummaged through Revard’s robes and found the dagger-shaped key stabbing into his chest. Ebennen ripped it free and held it close to his eye.
Is this key made of silver? Ebennen wondered.
Looks like about half of it is, Shalnark said. Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was just an ugly piece of jewelry. The best way to hide something is in plain sight, after all.
At least we got what we came for.
Ebennen sighed and shook his head at the disaster he was left with. Father Revard’s blood stained the robes and sheets as his bowels began to release.
I can’t believe you spanked a dead priest, Shalnark said.
Shut the fuck up.
Shalnark managed to haul Revard’s corpse to his hideout after tossing him out the window of the brothel. He hung him from some meat hooks to serve as Ebennen’s model. With the real thing right in front of him and plenty of time at his disposal, Ebennen could craft a nearly perfect disguise. He admired his new face in the mirror from every possible angle. “This is it . . . my masterpiece.”
“I will give credit where credit is due,” Shalnark said with Revard’s old voice. “You could fool his mother with this disguise. And this voice is precisely the same.” Shalnark hunched his shoulders and dipped his neck. “He was somehow even shorter than me.”
“At least it's easier to look shorter than it is to look taller.” Ebennen eyed the hanging corpse. “The Holy Knights are going to wonder where he disappeared to.”
“Once we get into that vault, it won’t matter. I don’t intend to stay in this town for a single moment longer after we have our silver.”
“We’ll need to make it to the vault first,” Ebennen said, poking the corpse in the chest. “I don’t know about you, but I doubt this man is going to tell us where it is.”
“Sadly, we didn’t get much of a chance to interrogate him,” Shalnark sighed. “We’ll be going in blind.”
“It's not too late. If this plan is too risky, we could put it off and find another way home.”
“It is too risky, but we have no other choice. It's now or never.”
Shalnark cleaned Father Revard’s robe as thoroughly as he could. Luckily, most of the blood had soaked into the sheets at the brothel, which he had already burned in the hearth.
Later that day, Lockpick Lenny arrived in Shalnark’s hideout to discuss the plan.
“Woah! I almost lept out of my boots at the sight of you,” Lenny said, leaning in close. “You have truly copied his likeness perfectly.”
“Why thank you, my son,” Shalnark said in Revard’s voice. “When I have the model right in front of me, I can make a nearly perfect copy, given enough time.”
“You have the priest here? Have you already interrogated him?”
“No . . . Things got a bit messy, and I may have killed him a little bit. I haven’t figured out what to do with the body, though.”
Lenny shook his head and scratched his sharp chin. “That could bring a ton of heat quickly if you don’t hurry back to the church. Let me worry about the body.”
“Thanks. He’s hanging in there on a couple of meat hooks. Did you figure out my escape plan?”
“Of course! The barred fence around the church grounds is too smooth to climb, and is capped with jagged points so sharp they’ll rip straight through even the thickest padding. However, if I am waiting on the other side with a couple of ladders, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to be up and out of there in moments. Meet me at the northmost tip of the grounds just over by the abbey when you have a full haul. Just give me the signal and I’ll come running with them. Do you have the key?”
Shalnark pulled the sharp key from under his robe. “Right here. Want to hold it?”
“I would, yes.”
Shalnark handed his partner the key. Lenny observed it closely and ran his thumb along the point at its tip. He quickly pulled his thumb back in pain. “Ah! That’s a sharp bastard!”
“Damn, didn’t realize it was that sharp . . .” Shalnark took the key back and prodded his own thumb with it. It was mildly sharp, but not impressively so.
Lenny’s old skin must be quite thin . . .
“You’d best get going,” Lenny said with his arm extended. “Good luck in there.”
Shalnark grasped his arm and squeezed. “Thanks, Lockpick. Let's go to church.”
Shalnark made his way back to the Church District. He took special care not to move too quickly, for it would look strange for his old man disguise to move as swiftly as a young acrobat. When he finally arrived, he took a deep breath before crossing the gates.
Well . . . Tally ho.
Shalnark walked about the grounds unnoticed. His disguise was so perfectly done that the monks, priests, and Holy Knights did not give him a second glance. With the cathedral in sight, he noticed there were two main entrances: One that led into the main hall, which was open to the public, and another that led to the choir, meant for clergy use only. As inconspicuously as he could, Shalnark slowly made his way for the choir entrance and let himself inside.
The choir was far more decorated than the nave where the common folk worshipped the lesser gods of the Church’s pantheon. There were two doors visible, but only one had Holy Knights stationed by it. The door was in the same direction that Father Revard had veered towards when he took Shalnark’s donation.
So far so good, Shalnark thought. He shuffled up to the door, trying to look like he belonged.
“Father Revard?” a familiar deep voice called from one of the knights by the doorway.
Shalnark didn’t respond at first. It took him a second to remember that was him.
“Father Revard, you’re all right!”
Oh, shit…
“Ah . . . Yes . . . ” Shalnark stumbled on his words.
“When you and that whore disappeared last night, me and Sir Vren here feared the worst.”
These are the Holy Knights from last night, Ebennen said. Let me handle this.
“Quiet down, you fool!” Ebennen whispered. “Do you wish for the whole clergy to know where we were?!”
The knight’s head jerked about as he checked over his shoulders for eavesdroppers. “My apologies, Father. I was just worried we had failed in our duty.”
Ebennen pulled the knight down to his eye level by the collar of his breastplate. “If anything, you were too diligent!” he hissed. “When you burst through the door, I was absolutely overcome with embarrassment. I could not bear to look either of you in the eye, so I escaped out the window and paid the whore double to keep quiet.”
“We may have been a bit hasty. For that, I am sorry. We simply haven’t seen any combat in quite some time and are itching for battle, even if it is with a back-alley whore.”
This place needs to burn to the ground, Shalnark said.
“I don’t care what you itch for. Just do as you are told next time! If I need you, I will call for you.”
“Yes, Father Revard.” The Holy Knight bowed. “I must ask though . . . about our payment.”
“What do you think I’m here for?” Ebennen flashed the silver key. “I don’t just keep loads of silver in my quarters, you know.”
“Oh . . . right.” The knights looked towards each other and nodded. They eyed the choir to see who was watching. “You are clear to enter, Father. Do not tarry long, for midday mass will soon be upon us.”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Ebennen said with a smirk. “I’ll be quick.”
The knights opened the door, revealing a spiral staircase that led downward. A single lantern hung from a hook at the entrance to light the way. Ebennen grabbed it and feigned difficulty with the stairs. The knights closed the doors behind him as he descended.
Nice job, partner, Shalnark said. How did you know to talk to them like that?
Didn’t have a clue. Lucky guess.
Lady Luck favors us today. Let's hope that keeps up.
Shalnark reassumed control as he quickly hurried down the stairs. They descended down quite a ways farther than he expected. At the base of the stairs was a tall, triangular chamber. Standing between two large lanterns was a thick metal door. On its surface was a symbol of a triangle with a sword, crown, and scroll at each of its corners. At its center was a key slot that seemed to fit the size and shape of the silver key.
Guess this is where it goes.
Shalnark lifted the key and the lock pulled it in magically. The symbol on the door glowed blue as it unlatched itself from a heavy machine in the walls. With a light push, Shalnark found himself in tears as the lantern light glimmered from all the shining gold.
“By the Gods . . .” Shalnark said. “Lenny was right . . .”
He shined the lantern around the room. It was about as large as a common hut, but was filled to the brim with artifacts, chests, and bags of coins. Shalnark drew a balled-up sack from under his robe and searched the room for the most valuable-looking pieces. When he picked his light back up, he saw the shape of a man standing in the corner of the room.
“Shit!” Shalnark hissed, drawing a dagger from under his sleeve. The drummer in his chest sped his tempo as his lungs retained all the air they could. When he shined the light forward, he noticed the figure in the corner was copying his movements and had the same ugly old look as he did.
“Oh, it’s a mirror,” Shalnark said as he observed the craftsmanship. “A damn nice one, at that. Looks like it’s made of solid black steel.”
“That is the blackest black I think I’ve ever seen,” Ebennen said from the mirror. “It's almost unsettling to look at.”
Shalnark’s fingers felt numb as he poked at the strangely soft glass. “This thing gives off an unsettling aura. Best give it a wide berth.”
“Agreed.”
Shalnark began to fill the bag with as many golden-colored artifacts as he could. Gold was worth so much more than silver that any amount of it was worth a small fortune. Some of the more solid gold artifacts were kept under a separate lock in their own display cases, but Shalnark was more than content with the smaller ones and sacks of silver. He even found his own silver from before tucked away in the very front.
“Don’t get too greedy,” Ebennen said from the mirror. “This robe can only hide so much before it looks like we are clearly robbing this place blind.”
“I think that’ll be enough, then. This one sack alone is filled with at least thirty sovereigns worth of silver, gold, and trinkets. That is more than enough.”
“Then let's get out of here.”
Shalnark removed his robe and put on the backpack. The bulky robe combined with the treasurer's natural hunchback spine made it easy to hide and made his disguise all the more convincing. He made sure to grab a couple of bags of silver for the knights from the night prior. He did not know how much they would need, so he grabbed more than he thought they could want.
The numb feeling from the mirror pricked his spine on his way out. He turned back to look at it one last time and shuddered as if he was disgusted by what he saw, but he could not understand why. The black-rimmed mirror simply showed him a reflection of his disguise, but he could’ve sworn he saw the image of father Revard give him a subtle wave as the vault door closed in front of him.
When the vault door closed, it glowed as it did before and seemed to lock itself. Shalnark held the silver key in his hand and pursed his lips. “Might as well try to pawn this too. It is at least worth its weight in silver.”
“I think if we sold it to the right person it could be worth far more than that, considering it’s the only key that can open this door.”
“That’s true, but that sounds like a ton of work. We simply do not have the time to take full advantage of that. Though there is nothing that would grant me more satisfaction than selling the church’s key back to them for an exorbitant price, I would rather spend that time sailing home.”
“That makes sense. Silver won’t get us as much back home, anyway.”
Shalnark made his way back up the stairs and resurfaced. The Holy Knights there were waiting for him at the entrance like a couple of hungry hounds waiting to be fed. Shalnark rolled his eyes and slipped them both sacks of silver. Their eyes widened and their mouths dropped. Shalnark must’ve been a much more generous master than his predecessor.
“Father, have you doubled our pay?” one of the knights asked.
“Consider that a little bit extra to keep your mouth shut about last night. I don’t want to hear another word of it as long as you live. Am I to be understood?”
Both knights nodded and returned to their posts.
I gotta give them credit, Shalnark said. They may be stupid, but they are loyal.
Let’s hurry and get this haul to Lenny. I’d rather not have to spend another moment in this place if we don’t have to.
Shalnark made his way to the northmost point of the church grounds. He looked around for his partner, but Lenny was nowhere to be found. Just outside the fence was a garden that stretched for several yards before reaching the surrounding buildings. Shalnark tried to look as thoroughly as he could without looking suspicious, trying to see if his partner was tucked away somewhere between the buildings or crouch down in the bushes.
“Don’t look too hard,” said a voice almost right in front of Shalnark.
“What in the blazing Hells?!” Shalnark hissed.
Lockpick Lenny suddenly appeared in front of him out of nowhere. He materialized as if his body went from being devoid of color to slowly colorful once again. “Don’t shit your breaches. It’s just a little magic is all.”
“You can fucking turn invisible? Why in all the Hells do you need anyone’s help if you can do that?”
“It’s not nearly as impressive as you think. If I’m holding completely still, it’s as if I’m not even there, but if I move around too much I can easily be spotted. Not to mention my magic reserve is not very impressive, so I can only keep this up for a short amount of time.”
“Still. I wish I had such magic.”
“What you got?” Lenny asked, peeking over Shalnark’s shoulder.
“I got one beast of a haul, Lenny,” Shalnark said with a smile. “Plenty of gold, silver, and artifacts to make us both wealthy.”
“Hurry up and pass it to me. If we tarry here much longer, someone will spot us.”
“What about the ladders?” Shalnark asked as he slipped the backpack off of his shoulders under his robe.
“Those were for emergencies. If we can get out of here quietly, that would be best. You could walk right out of there as you are now.”
Shalnark looked back towards the crowds of people coming into the cathedral. It seemed everyone was more concerned with the midday mass than anything else. “You’re right. Putting up those ladders now would just attract too much attention.” Shalnark handed Lenny his backpack full of loot.
“This is fantastic,” Lenny said, licking his lips. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it to get home.”
Lenny lifted his fingers, ready to snap them. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Shalnark. Perhaps in the next life we could do this again.”
“What do you—”
As Lenny’s fingers snapped, a blistering scream erupted from the gates of the church. Shalnark spun around and shoved his back against the fence. Just as Lenny had appeared, Father Revard’s corpse suddenly materialized in front of the Holy Knights at the gates.
“Murder! A priest is been murdered!”
“Lockpick, you traitorous piece of shit!” Shalnark said as he spun back around onto the bars. Lenny was already gone. The Holy Knights from the staircase came running outside. They took one look at the mangled corpse of their former leader and another look at the yelling Shalnark ,who had spun around to meet their gaze. Their faces twisted with anger as their spears pointed towards him in the distance.
“Imposter!”
“Shit!” Shalnark yelled as he darted along the fence. He turned his gaze up to see if there was a way he could climb it quickly. Lenny may have been a traitor, but he was right about the fence. It stood far too tall and its bars were far too slick for Shalnark to scale with any degree of speed, especially with Holy Knights armed with pistols chasing him. There was nowhere to run.
The two Holy Knights that guarded the vault chased after him first. It did not take long for the other Holy Knights to catch on. Shalnark ran behind the cathedral with as much speed as he could muster, ripping the robes off of his body as he sprinted. Despite the Holy Knights being clad in armor, they were still quite fast. One drew his pistol and fired. The bullet ricocheted off the fence and nearly hit Shalnark, who felt the air of the bullet travel past his shoulder.
Shalnark contemplated climbing the cathedral, but with one other Holy Knight behind him armed with a pistol, he would be shot down before he was able to climb behind cover. He continued his aimless sprint across the church grounds until the abbey was within sight. It was considerably smaller than the cathedral, standing only two stories tall with very ornate protrusions decorating its masonry. Shalnark darted for it as quickly as he could and climbed like a squirrel. He rolled onto the tile of the roof as another bullet went flying past him and laid flat as he wormed his way to the center of the roof, where he would have cover from those trying to fire upon him from below.
We’re trapped up here! Shalnark said. That bastard set us up!
Give me some time to come up with a plan.
Shalnark peeked over the peak of the roof.
“He’s on the roof! Get some ladders here!”
I don’t think we have time. A crowd of curious onlookers began to form outside of the cathedral, watching as the Holy Knights chased an old priest around the courtyard.
“Get these people out of here! If this thing really is an envy demon, we cannot risk the collateral damage! Where is the exorcist?”
Exorcist? Envy demon? By the Gods, these Holy Knights think I’m some kind of monster.
I think we can use that, Ebennen said. Get us down and—
The cock of a pistol interrupted Ebennen. Out of the corner of his eye, Shalnark saw one of the Holy Knights climbing his way up the side of the building with his pistol pointed in Shalnark’s direction. He rolled to one of the spires protruding from the roof of the Abbey and took cover as the pistol fired. The bullet bounced off the rock. Shalnark took this opportunity to charge the knight as he was trying to reload. When he saw Shalnark charging him, the knight dropped his pistol and attempted to draw his sword. Before the blade was halfway from its sheath, Shalnark was upon him. Quickly, he planted his foot in the center of the knight’s helmet, sending him falling off the building two stories down.
A resounding crack echoed against the stone wall. Shalnark peeked down to see the knight’s leg bent in the wrong direction and several of the other knights surrounding him. Shalnark took this opportunity to run to the other side of the abbey and jump into a neighboring tree. With poise, he lowered himself down to the trunk of the tree until his feet were firmly on the ground.
As I was saying, Ebennen said. Give me control, I have a plan.
Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re not exactly much of a fighter.
Just do it!
Ebennen took control and darted towards the crowds in a panic. “Run for your lives! The envy demon is upon us! He brings with him the wrath of the Hells! He has come to devour our souls!”
Before the Holy Knights could react to what Ebennen was spewing, the confused and easily manipulated people were roused into a panic. Their fear of the unknown and the Hells far outclassed their respect for the Holy Knights’ authority. Despite their best efforts, the knights could not contain the panicking crowd for even a second, and certainly could not keep their attention focused on this insane rouser that appeared from nowhere.
Ebennen shoved himself into the crowd and created a makeshift disguise. Trying to swim his way as deep into the center as he could, Ebennen created a thick barrier of bodies between him and any knight at the gates. The flow of the crowd shoved him outside. He did not look back. When the panicked crowd reached the streets of the city, Ebennen took a hard turn and darted down an alleyway. Shoving himself as close as he could against the wall, he kept an eye on the road in case any knights appeared. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would explode.
Shalnark forcefully regained control as his heart rate instantly calmed. With a single deep breath, he regained his wits and furrowed his brow, as all he could concentrate on was his immense anger. He had narrowly escaped with his life, but now the city would know that there was a shapeshifter in their midst. One with enough talent to successfully impersonate a priest and make off with an immense fortune. His career in Oxgate was over. Silver or no silver, he could no longer remain in the city. But before he left, he would reclaim what he was owed.
Shalnark dragged his feet along the cobblestone roads. He changed his face to keep himself hidden from the Holy Knights that were patrolling the streets. They were going to turn the entire city inside out to find him after the fiasco at the Cathedral. It was no longer safe for him to operate in Oxgate.
Shalnark, we need to get out of this town, Ebennen said. Now the entire city knows we exist and will be preparing for it.
I’m not going anywhere until I am given what I am owed. I’m going to find Lenny and put him in his fucking grave.
I understand why you are angry, but you are too angry to think straight! You don’t rob a professional like Lenny without a plan.
No more plans. I’m done with plans.
Shalnark!
As Shalnark stormed down the road, he could hear Ebennen shouting at him but could not make out the words. It sounded as if he was trapped in a glass box in a distant room. Shalnark had followed Lockpick Lenny from the tavern where he met him to his hideout within the city. After crafting a loose disguise, his presence to his enemy was all but invisible.
Though he wanted to immediately strike his knife into the back of the traitorous bastard, he knew if he sprung too early, he would never find Lenny’s lair on his own. His hands sweated with anticipation as he watched the skinny, ugly old man veer down an alley between two buildings in the upper city where the rich merchants lived. Shalnark strafed the wall and peeked around the corner to see Lenny walk through a curtain painted to perfectly match the whitewashed walls of the buildings beside them. To the naked eye, this entrance was practically invisible.
Shalnark waited outside for a few minutes to see if Lenny would come back out. Trying to ambush a thief in their own hideout was a bad idea. Though Shalnark was overcome with anger, he had not lost his wits completely. A professional like Lenny would almost certainly have some kind of deadly defense in his home that only he could bypass safely. With all the wealth he had no doubt claimed over his many years, Shalnark expected Lenny to have a state-of-the-art defense system complete with magical traps gilded in gold.
Cautiously, Shalnark treated the alley itself as if it was riddled with poisonous snakes. He dragged his feet across the floor very slowly and kept his eyes to the ground in search of tripwires or pressure plates. There were none. Standing before the well-painted curtain, Shalnark very carefully drew his knife and used it to push the curtain aside. A strong smell battered Shalnark’s nostrils. It smelled as if Lenny was burning the place down, but there was no smoke or flame to speak of. In fact, a cold breeze came from the lair as if it was a cave in the mountains.
Shalnark slithered his way inside and felt the same numbing feeling that he felt in the presence of the black mirror at the vaults of the church. He ignored it, for he had more important things to worry about. With his sweaty grip squeezing the handle of his knife, Shalnark led his way down the hallway of the lair. It was not anything like how he imagined. It was musty and cold. The corners were riddled with cobwebs and rat holes. Shalnark’s layer in the slums was in a better state than this one. It was as if Lenny did not spend a single penny of his silver on his lair.
If Lenny’s lair was in such a state, perhaps he spent his immense wealth on weapons. Shalnark looked down to his cheap steel daggers and wondered if he would be facing off against a thief equipped with a magical weapon with powers far beyond anything a mundane smith could conjure. With no traps in his way, Shalnark continued to the end of the hallway, where he could hear a crunching sound coming from the room ahead.
Another curtain separated the hallway from the main chamber. The crunching that came from the room sounded like grinding gears covered in rust. The screech hurt Shalnark’s ears. He slowly pushed the curtain aside and peeked in to see what could possibly be causing such a terrible noise. His jaw dropped.
A figure with the resemblance of Lenny crouched in the middle of the floor. His skin was even paler than before, and his features were far more exaggerated. His eye sockets protruded further, and his eyes shined yellow in the dark room. His mouth split open his cheeks to reveal his entire jaw. His teeth, which were once just browning, mundane teeth, were replaced with razor-sharp shining teeth that appeared to be made of some kind of orange metal. This creature was devouring entire sacks filled with silver and crunching them into small bits before swallowing them down his gullet. The floor at his feet was filled with ripped up coin purses and pillaged chests from previous heists.
Left in shock of what he was witnessing, Shalnark could barely muster the courage to step forward. His wrist trembled as he nearly dropped the knife in his hand, wondering if it would be better for him to just turn around and leave this strange monster behind, but anger guided his feet as he stalked the shadows behind the silver-feasting beast. Lenny appeared to be so infatuated with the sacks of silver in front of him that all of his senses were dulled. Shalnark easily crept behind him, dagger raised high.
Shalnark brought the dagger down and straight into Lenny’s shoulder blade, but was met with fierce resistance. It felt as if Lenny was wearing steel plates underneath his ragged clothing, but Shalnark could not see the glimmer of steel beneath the tip of his dagger. All he could see was shallowly pierced skin and a small trickle of blood in place of a gaping stab wound.
Lenny shot up and turned around, revealing the rest of his body. He was taller than he was before, standing a full head taller than Shalnark. His neck was long, and his arms extended down to his knees. What were once old arthritic hands were replaced with strong claws. His deformed, split-cheek face bent into a smile.
“I will be absolutely damned,” Lenny growled in a voice that sounded like many speaking from a single tongue. “You truly are a man of talent to escape such a deathtrap."
Shalnark stumbled back with the point of his dagger towards Lenny. He was speechless.
“What’s the matter?” Lenny asked as he slowly crept about the room. “Do I have something on my face?” His wide mouth extended almost to his ears.
“What . . . What are you?” Shalnark asked, his hand slowly reaching for a throwing knife behind his back.
“I am what I always have been. Greed. Avarice. Materialism. These are the things that governed me in life, and now they are all that I am. I sought wealth by any means, hoarded relics out of sheer desire to own them, and craved more to feed this insatiable need to own.”
“In life?” Shalnark asked. “Are you some kind of spirit?”
“In a way, yes. I am what you will one day become when your soul is stripped of the flesh it is anchored to. When you peel away the distractions of the physical world, all that is left is you in your purest form."
“Look, I don’t care if this is what you really look like. I’m the last person who can judge others for hiding their identity. But why set me up like that?! Were you so encompassed by greed that you would rather have me killed than split the bounty?”
“Everyone lies. Everyone dies. Those who lie best, die last,” Lenny said as his lanky body swayed back and forth. “I was told this mantra before being betrayed and murdered by my own partner many Azure Moons ago. Perhaps when I send you to the third Hell, you will be able to teach another foolish young burglar this harsh lesson.” Lenny slowly approached.
Shalnark kept his knife pointed toward him. “Stay back! I’m just here for my silver, Lenny. Give me what I am owed, and we can go our separate ways.”
“Oh, Shalnark.” Lenny continued to approach with no apparent fear of Shalnark’s dagger. “Had I known I would be having company this afternoon, I would’ve saved you the last sack of dessert.” He placed the entire sack of silver in his large mouth, and his orange teeth crunched down on the metal like they were biscuits. “It had been so long since I had a proper feast that I couldn’t help myself from gobbling it all down like a starving pig.”
“Are you telling me that you ate literally all of that silver?!”
“Not just the silver. I devoured the artifacts of gold voraciously, down to the last ounce. A meal like this should keep me sustained and powerful for many more years to come.”
Shalnark’s hands clenched so tight the bones in his wrist cracked. Everything he had worked so hard for the past three years was sitting in the belly of this deranged monster. With Lenny within his measure, Shalnark lunged forth with his knife. He grabbed hold of Lenny’s shoulder and tried to run his dagger home through his ribs, but again was met with solid resistance.
“Your mundane weapons of iron and steel cannot hurt me,” Lenny said as he grabbed a fistful of Shalnark’s tunic. He lifted him off the ground and tossed him into the wall opposite the lair’s exit.
Shalnark shook his head to regain his wits, but when he looked up, Lenny had disappeared. Shalnark looked around the dimly lit room with his dagger held to his chest. The tip of it sported a small amount of blood, showing that he did penetrate skin, but barely enough to scratch him.
“You should’ve let the Holy Knights kill you,” Lenny’s voice said from Shalnark’s right.
Shalnark darted his gaze from left to right. He could hear Lenny, but could not see him.
“At least they would have made it quick,” Lenny’s voice said from behind.
Spinning around, Shalnark looked to the ceilings and to all four corners of the room for any signs of Lenny’s presence.
“But I think I’ll use my newly-returned vigor to take my time with you.”
Shalnark’s back erupted in pain as his clothes were sliced open and his back scratched deep by Lenny’s claws. He spun around and sliced his dagger through the air, but made contact with nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see something moving. It looked like a cloud that glided through the air, but when it moved too quickly, everything on the other side of it became distorted. As it slowed, it became completely invisible.
“You mortals are so helpless. It’s almost sad to watch you squirm in this pointless physical existence.”
“If I am so helpless, why did you need me to do your dirty work for you?” Shalnark asked. He closed his eyes and listened closely for Lenny’s response.
“You flesh bags have your uses, and your corrupt church has become really good at hunting my kind.”
Shalnark shunted all of his focus to his feet. He could feel that Lenny was still walking about the room, albeit slowly. With his vision useless, Shalnark used a combination of his touch and hearing to charge in the correct direction. When he made contact with the invisible Lenny, he shoved his entire body into him until he hit the wall. Lenny’s tall, lanky body made him easy to tackle. As Lenny thrashed, his see-through outline became apparent.
With his enemy pinned in place, Shalnark unleashed a flurry of stabs into the ribs, but it was difficult for him to tell the difference between hitting Lenny and hitting the stone wall behind him. Seeing no real success, he flipped his grip on the dagger and tried to stab towards what appeared to be Lenny’s see-through face, but his wrist was caught by Lenny’s claw. A rough, clawed hand gripped Shalnark around his neck and squeezed. Lenny dug his claws into Shalnark’s wrist, forcing the knife from his hand.
“You are a man of many faces and many talents,” Lenny growled. “You will make a powerful greed demon.”
Shalnark gasped for air as he threw some solid punches into Lenny’s sharp chin, but to no avail. With each pathetic strike, Lenny’s face reappeared more and more, a creeping smile revealing his orange teeth.
“The Third Hell will welcome you with open arms.”
Shalnark’s vision began to blur and his limbs felt weak. He could see Lenny’s gaping mouth slowly open, preparing to wrap his jaws around Shalnark’s face. Ebennen’s muffled cries quickly erupted into a blistering shout in Shalnark’s left ear.
The key! The silver key!
The memory of Lenny pricking himself on the sharp point of the key around Shalnark’s neck shot through his mind as his eyes widened. A second wind coursed through Shalnark’s body. He ripped the key from his neck with his free hand and stabbed it upwards through Lenny’s bottom jaw. It cut through him so easily, Shalnark almost thought he missed. Lenny’s grip on Shalnark’s arm and neck dropped as he grasped his own profusely-bleeding jaw. As the blood squirted from his body onto the ground, his camouflaged form began to fade back into clear sight.
The silver key wasn’t much of a weapon, but a small shiv was all Shalnark ever needed. As the tall beast reeled in pain, Shalnark stuck the silver key into his ribs with pinpoint precision. Lenny blindly swung his claws through the air, but Shalnark ducked beneath them and appeared behind him. He shivved Lenny several more times in the kidneys and in the back of his neck. So much blood poured from his body that he appeared to be melting into crimson water. He fell to his knees as he choked. Shalnark grabbed a fistful of Lenny’s hair, yanked his head back, and dragged the point of the shiv across his neck. He looked Lenny in the eyes as they rolled back into his skull. With a powerful thrusting kick between the shoulder blades, Shalnark kicked Lenny’s corpse face down to the ground.
As Lenny slammed into the floor, his body exploded into a massive pile of black dust. Even the blood that covered his ragged clothing turned to dust. The smell was worse than that of a week-old corpse. Shalnark shot to the floor and began running his hands through the dust where Lenny’s stomach would’ve been, hoping against hope that perhaps his silver would still be there. As the black dust ran through his fingers, he melted onto his heels and dropped his hands to the ground. He let out an ear-shattering scream until his throat could no longer make sound.
Rain drenched Shalnark as he traveled down the Golden Road under the cover of a cloak. On his back was a sack filled with all of his essentials, for he left much of his hideout behind. He traded the silver key to Moneybags for travel supplies and a new change of clothes. The item was far too dangerous for Moneybags to sell to anyone without being implicated in a crime punishable by death, but he would still be able to extract the silver as payment. Oxgate was on high alert after the chaos he ensued at the Cathedral. It would’ve been too risky to try and leave the city with everything that he owned.
Before leaving, he searched Lenny’s rundown hideout as thoroughly as he could, but only found empty coin purses, chests, and crates. The monstrous bastard had devoured all the wealth he had ever stolen in his long successful career and barely spent a single penny on himself. Shalnark did not fully understand what exactly Lenny was, but he knew one thing for sure. The bastard was some sort of magical byproduct of the forsaken wildland known as Travenhall. A forsaken wildland that he would be trapped in for an indeterminate amount of time.
Shalnark looked over his shoulder to see Oxgate in the distance. He had hoped that when he left the city he would be leaving the continent shortly after, but instead he was leaving with even less than he had before.
At least we have our health, Ebennen said.
I don’t want to hear it.
Shalnark . . .
I’m serious. I almost wish that monster had killed me. Three years of deadly labor devoured into dust in a single week.
You don’t mean that. I know how much you hate this place, but there is a lot to love, too. Think about it. Ever since we were stranded here, you have never even entertained the possibility that we could make a home out of this place.
“Because this is not our home, Ebennen!” Shalnark yelled aloud. “This world is primitive and disgusting. Its people are crude and sheep-minded. The magic that taints this place breaks all the rules and makes this land impossible to understand. Sure, Geergan had its own share of supernatural phenomena, but they were minimal and possibly just legends! No, we will not be making a home out of this eighth Hell.”
Ebennen took over as Shalnark’s face changed to his and replied, “Then what will we do? Continue robbing merchants and nobility until Lady Damarra stops blessing us with luck? Do we just wait around for another crazed adventurer to offer us a place aboard his ship?”
“I don’t know. I need a little bit of time. We need to find a place to lay low while I think of a new plan.”
“I thought you were done with plans,” Ebennen prodded.
“That kind of talk almost got me killed down there,” Shalnark said. “If it wasn’t for your intuitiveness, I would’ve had my face bitten off.”
“That’s my face too, you know. You gotta look out for number one,” Ebennen said as he pretended to dramatically flip his hair back.
“If I learned anything from this, I’ve learned that that is the absolute truth. Alone is always better.”
“I like to joke, Shalnark, but I don’t actually believe that’s true.”
“Think about it. We’ve been on our own for the past few years, and we gathered a pretty large sum of silver. The second we try a partnership again, he turns out to be some insane, silver-eating monster. From now on it’s just us.”
“If you say so. I have a feeling you’ll come around eventually.”
“Doubt it.” Shalnark crossed a dip in the road as Oxgate was now beyond his sight. Up ahead was a split in the road with a signpost pointing in two directions. One road led to Riverhill, and the other led to Rorfeld.
“What you think?” Shalnark asked. “Riverhill or Rorfeld?”
“If I remember right, Riverhill is far tamer.”
“I think I remember Moneybags talking about Riverhill once.” Shalnark’s smirk returned to his face. “I hear they have a pretty packed market there. I imagine that comes with plenty of loose coin purses.”
“I thought we were going to lay low.”
“You know what they say about idle hands.”
“Demons make work for idle hands?”
“Exactly.”
THE END