After sending young Jack on a solo mission to find his wayward cow, Dalthan and his crew began a heated discussion. The [Rogue] patiently laid out his plan to the other evildoers while they huddled together at the edge of the primeval forest. Hidden by the thick underbrush and the long shadows cast by the setting sun, the sibilant hisses of their argument sounded like nothing so much as an angry nest of vipers.
In the end, Keysha agreed to his plan. Shale courteously abstained. Rocks, it appeared, were firm believers in the democratic process.
With that matter settled, Dalthan quickly moved on to a different issue that had been weighing on his mind since their encounter with the merchant caravan.
“What happens when we die?” The thief casually tossed out the question as if he were remarking on the pleasant weather.
From the way the other three evildoers leaned back, it was clear that they were caught completely off guard by Dalthan’s question. Even Shale, the implacable [Stone Golem], somehow managed to look askance. An impressive feat considering his head was a featureless, pumpkin-sized rock. Zaplixel and Keysha were even more expressive, their sharp looks and twitching fingers making it painfully obvious that they expected his question to be a prelude to violence.
The unimpressed [Rogue] rolled his eyes at their exaggerated response. “I’m not going to murder any of you. Do I look like an idiot?” Dal suddenly pointed at Zaplixel as if he intended to drive his fingertip through the old wizard’s cold, shriveled heart. “That was a rhetorical question, jackass.”
On the verge of speaking, the wizard’s mouth abruptly snapped shut with an audible clack. Scowling, the bald man started to speak again only to stop as the rogue noisily cleared his throat.
“Hmph,” Zap sniffed, making a show of turning toward the distant plantation house. Though the mage's long, bony fingers began straightening the folds of his heavy black robe, Dalthan could tell that the wizard made sure to keep the rogue in his peripheral vision.
“The reason I ask,” Dalthan began, turning his gaze from the old [Swindler] to the glowering [Sharpshooter], “is because last time we tried to sell these beans fireballs started coming my way. There were a few arrows as well. Along with a vote about me being ‘acceptable collateral damage.’” Dal helpfully lifted his hands to add air quotes to the last three words.
If he expected some sort of apology, Keysha’s wolfish smile tore that hope apart like a school of piranhas shredding a luckless calf.
“Which makes me wonder,” Dalthan continued doggedly, “what happens if we die? I know some people end up back in The Mausoleum. Does everyone?”
“You are such a fucking dreg,” Zaplixel sneered while he adjusted the bevy of gaudy necklaces he wore. Among the trinkets was a particularly thick gold chain with a bright red gemstone. Even at this distance, Dalthan could tell that the jewel was a simple piece of colored glass.
The chain, though, would make for a fine tool to strangle the life from that bald fool.
Keeping his nefarious plots to himself, Dalthan gave the asshole a sunny smile. All the while, the thief was desperately hoping that everyone simply ended up back in The Hub in the event of an untimely demise. Not necessarily for his sake, but for the wizard’s.
Only getting to kill Zaplixel once would be tremendously disappointing.
Keysha, ever the rain on his parade, doused yet another spark of hope when she finally chose to answer. “No, everyone does not end up back in The Mausoleum so get that idea out of your head right now.” The dark-haired archer leaned back against a hickory tree behind her. The black leather armor she wore seemed to sink into the greedy embrace of the afternoon shadows. “As far as I know, it works just like it did when you got brought to The Hub. Lord Balerik weighs your soul. If the Archdemon feels like you can aid his cause, he brings you back. If he doesn’t, then you just slip away. Permanently.”
“That makes things complicated.” As he spoke, Dalthan’s brows were knit in consternation while his emerald eyes stared off into the middle distance.
Keysha shrugged. “I don’t think that word means what you think it does. There is nothing complicated about ‘don’t die.’”
“Key,” Zap ventured, his voice heavy with long-suffering disappointment. “You’re talking to the guy who got arrested within an hour of arriving in The Hub. Our least favorite rogue is painfully slow on the uptake.”
Dalthan briefly entertained the idea of carving Zaplixel up like a roast chicken. The thought alone was enough to bring a wistful smile to his lips. It’s a shame that he might only get to gut the old asshole once. It would truly be a cosmic crime.
The sight of Jack topping a distant rise tugged Dalthan’s thoughts away from his murderous designs. He still had things to discuss before the boy returned. His real plan was dependent on one crucial piece of information.
“We’ll skip the snide remarks, Zap, and just assume that I sent you into a seething fury with my superior wit.” The showman in Dal couldn’t resist pausing for dramatic effect. “Again.” The wizard whirled toward him but Dal’s attention had already moved to Keysha. “What about the scroll? How do we end the quest and get out of here?”
The huntress gave him a cool, assessing look while Zaplixel fumed like a centaur touring a glue factory. “Are you planning to skip out on us? I thought you wanted to loot the manor on the hill?”
“Look,” the thief began, “Jack told us that they’ve got a few big boys up there working the field. Last I checked, a farmer is just as deadly with a scythe as an assassin is, as long as they stick you with the pointy end. There’s no guarantee that we’ll get through this clean so why wouldn’t I want to know how to punch my ticket out of here?”
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Much to Dalthan’s surprise, it was Zap who answered his question. “You’ll know when the quest is done. You’ll feel it. It’s a little different for everyone, but you’ll know. After that, all you have to do is bring out your quest sheet and activate it. The same way you would a wand or a scroll.” Zaplixel, being the scumbag he is, immediately lost any goodwill he’d just gained by continuing in his shrill voice, “Is that all you need, or do I need to hold your dick for you while you take a piss, dreg?”
Ignoring the mirth dancing in Keysha’s gray eyes, Dalthan moved around her and Zaplixel with the effortless grace of a summer breeze. As he passed them, he pitched his voice low to escape the notice of the young boy that was growing ever closer. “You’d just throw your back out if you tried, old man. Your self-esteem would never recover.”
Keysha’s cackling laughter chased him like a pack of jackals nipping at his heels. Dal didn’t know if she was laughing at him or the offended expression that was undoubtedly written across the livid mage’s face. He hoped it was a mixture of both. For her sake.
She still had a chance of surviving. A vanishingly small chance. Heckling Zaplixel would go a long way toward increasing her long odds.
Shale was the only one of them that was safe. They’d developed a certain chemistry over the course of the day. Dalthan talked, Shale listened. Simple. Besides, what sort of sick fuck would try to murder a rock anyway?
Casting thoughts of his impending crimes from his mind, Dalthan approached his young protege. The kid was winded, his chest rising and falling like a blacksmith’s bellows. Sweat slicked his hair and darkened his cheap, homespun shirt.
But despite it all, the kid grinned like a cat who’d finally figured out how to open the birdcage.
“I found her!” Jack gave Dalthan a thumbs up “She’s over in the west pasture! I saw a couple of heifers but no bull.” As the blond boy tried to catch his breath his eyes flickered past the [Rogue] and took note of the other three evildoers lurking in the shadows. The child’s face scrunched as if he’d just caught a whiff of something rancid. When his gaze returned to his mentor, Jack forced himself to stand up a little straighter and strangle the excited tone from his voice. When he spoke again, it was in a calm, professional voice like the one an outlaw was supposed to use.
“I didn’t see any of Mr. Vaan’s field hands but I’m sure they must be here. My ma usually rings the dinner bell around this time so maybe they’re in the big house for supper?” Jack’s voice grew less confident with every word, trailing off to a soft murmur by the end of his report.
Dalthan let the boy languish in uncertainty for a few heartbeats. It was good for building character. He could still remember the anxiety that had vibrated through him every time he stood before his father. Some days he’d walked away with a smile, other days he’d crawled away with a black eye.
It had taught a young Dalthan a hard lesson. You never truly knew what the future held. The only thing you could control was the present.
So you owed it to yourself to seize it.
“Good job, Jack.” The young boy visibly relaxed when the thief praised him, tipping his head back up to look toward the [Rogue] in star-struck delight. When Dalthan continued to speak, the boy’s back stiffened like a military cadet standing in front of a sergeant. “Now you’re going to have to lead me to Pattycake. You can do that, right?”
“I can lead you straight to her, Prin…Mr. Dalthan!” Jack still seemed to be unsure of how to address His Royal Highness now that the secret was out.
Tired of waiting, Keysha slipped through the forest like a prowling panther. She was nearly silent in the approach that brought her to Dalthan’s side. Zaplixel was louder, his steps rustling through the tall grass and his robe catching on low-hanging limbs. But for all his ineptitude, the [Swindler] was like a ghost compared to the uproar Shale left in its wake. Branches cracked and plants tore as Shale barreled through the edge of the forest with all the grace of a rolling boulder.
The thief tried not to wince at the uproar that suddenly thundered through the late afternoon air. “Everybody ready?” Dalthan’s emerald eyes flickered across his team, gauging each one.
“Sure.” Keysha said, lifting her long arms in a shuddering stretch. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dalthan pointedly asked, “What’s rule number one, Jack?”
The young boy happily chimed in, “Always stick to the plan!”
“That’s right,” Dal replied with a nod. “That goes double for you cretins,” he continued, giving the trio of evildoers a significant look. “I’ve seen the way you all adlib and it is not a sustainable approach.”
“I still don’t like it,” Zaplixel muttered darkly as he gave Dalthan a challenging glare.
“Damnit, Zap. We’ve been over this. We even voted on it.” The rogue snapped, finally losing some of the patience he’d been hoarding for the past half hour.
“I don’t trust you, dreg. We’re just supposed to light that barn on fire and let you sneak in and help yourself to whatever you find in that house? How are we supposed to get our share if we’re not there to see what you take?” The wizard’s pale blue eyes shimmered with greed and something even colder and more dangerous while he snarled at the thief.
“Look at me, you walking pawn shop!” Dalthan held his arms out to the side and turned in a slow revolution so all interested parties could see everything he had on his person. “I don’t have anything besides this knife and a set of clothes that look like they’ve been soaked in fucking afterbirth. You get a cut of everything I've got on me when we get back to The Hub. Is that clear now, or do I need to explain it for a third time?”
Instead of speaking, Zaplixel crossed his scrawny arms against his chest. His movement was so curt that the numerous bracelets he wore clattered like a carpenter’s toolbox.
Since they were resorting to sign language, Dalthan flipped the wizard off before turning back toward Jack.
“Lead the way, kid,” Dalthan said, waving Jack forward with a flick of his wrist like royalty directing an attendant.
Jack solemnly saluted the prodigal prince before he quickly turned back toward the rolling pasture. He knew they would have to make the trip quickly to outpace the fading daylight. On the western horizon, the setting sun carved swaths of lavender and magenta through the rosy red sky. In the east, as slavering darkness chased away the fleeing light, twinkling stars dared to challenge the approaching night.
Beneath the warring firmament, a different kind of battle began.
Dalthan half turned to look over his right shoulder at Keysha as their paths began to diverge. “If everything goes well, I’ll see all of you back at The Hub.”
The [Sharpshooter] offered him a smile that never touched her eyes. “I’m looking forward to seeing how good you really are, [Rogue].”
When he turned back to follow Jack across the fields of thick clover, Dalthan knew that someone was going to die before they left this place.
And he didn’t intend for it to be him.