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Asmalen King of Thieves Chapter three |
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3…New life It was a shock to young Akistu when he had found he woke himself from slumber late the next morning. Even in his long nights of study at the castle he never once was able to force himself to sleep past six, but now he was waking with weight like lead and stiff limbs during the mid day. When he rose from the bed, his cloths crusted and rough from the slow process of drying to his body throughout the night, he gazed with a stair like the dead out the window, seeing the sun out for once and high in the sky. Close to noon. He thought it to be as he slowly rose up, feeling his legs become a bit shaky under his own weight. He felt drugged and was starting to wonder if he accidentally sipped some ale the previous night. Slowly the young male stumbled over to the window to peer out to the narrow streets bellow. He could feel the wave of heat sting his eyes, the sun beating down on his clothed arm as he brought it up to shield from the bright sun. He remembered his long summers in heat of the castle. He remembered running down into the prison when no one looked for it was always moist and cool down their despite the putrid smell of decaying flesh from dead prisoners not yet taken away. His father said, or the prince over heard one day when the king and Gran had yet another argument, that it added a knowledge of coming death to those who dare break his simple laws. He also remembered their stories. He had heard many tales from them, and despite his heritage they always had something to say. After all men condemned to death for simply holding in their hands a weapon had many a tales to tell, many things to say, but no one to say them to except their own echoes. He took one last breath of hot dry air, trying to open his eyes fully to greet the day. As he spun around on his heal, putting his back to the light his arms stretched high above his head to try and relieve some of the strain they held. Sitting on the bed, he had seen but not taken notice of until than, was a pair of fresh new cloths most likely from the inn keepers dead brother. It dawned upon the child, as he stepped forth, stripping the rough cloth from his back and tossing it aside, that he had not known the dear woman’s name. He knew neither her age nor anything of her family. All he knew was simply what he saw of her. A kind caring, and he guessed at single, young woman. The cloths were much the same from the ones he had already worn only the shirt he found was lighter for the hot weather and held more of a white tone to it, again to reflect away from him the heat. He was relieved again when he pulled on the new pair of pants, though he had never felt a material like it so he had not a name to put to it. The cloth felt light, though looked heavy, and breathed well. If he was drunk or in a sleeping daze and walked out into the streets he would have thought he forgot to put on his pants. Baggy they were, great for movement and tight at the ankles so they could easily be stuffed into his boots. Yet another belt was placed out for him and despite not needing it he found it a good place to fasten his money pouch. It was only when he had dressed, deer skin boots on and hair combed through with his finger tips, did he rethink his decision. The guild was known for stealing what was easily seen and though the shirt was long and hung low over his waist the bag was still seen. So he took it off his belt and tucked it away in the breast pocket hidden under his shirt. He had not an idea why it was their, nor why several other pockets were, however it was useful and so long as they were there he would take advantage of it. In his opinion peasants had an odd way of making things. He combed through his hair one last time, trying to sweep his long locks from his eyes, for it was getting lengthy and started to form a blind over his gaze, and opened the door to his room and slowly stepped into the heated hall. There were no windows in the small pathway from the back of the building to the stairs. It made the area muggy and hot with a heavy sent of sweet and burnt out candles from the night. Akistu turned to his door as its rusted hinges creaked shut, only to forget his key had been in his other pocket. Quickly he tried to open the door, only to find the handle would jiggle back and forth, but not go completely around. It had been locked, he noticed, but at the time thought nothing of the matter. At the time he simply shrugged his shoulders and scampered off down the hall, for at the end where the stairs were waiting he could smell the clean sent of fresh fruit and a cool gust of air coming in through the open door and windows. That was the good of living in a circle of mountains. Always during the summer there was a cool breeze to help push away the heat. Akistu placed his hand on the ball of wood that twirled the railing in at the end of the stairs. He shifted his weight away as he spun around the turn, only finding it a mistake as he felt his hands re-rip and pulled it away quickly, nearly stumbling into a women holding in her hands two mugs of cold looking water. It made his mouth dray and yet water at the thought of it. “Ah look what you be doin’ always makin’ it worse!” Came the heat agitated voice from behind him as his wrist was taken hold and he was given a violent tug back to the counter where left over food from the breakfast meal had been held. He looked up, seeing the kind inn keeper with her furrowed brow, hair frizzed out about an inch from her head due to heat and moisture. She was hurriedly un wrapping the cloth from his right hand, watching as the layers lessened he could see his own blood had began to seep through, along with the yellow crust and slim of pus. “You boys are all the same!” She yelled, seeming like a different person all together, but he had come to notice, in his short twelve years of living, that heat could change the sweetest flower in a meadow to have a putrid smell. “I swear it your not gonna be getting, healed if ya don’ take it easy and keep them hands tucked away in yer pockets.” He was happy that she no longer yelled now. After all with her bushy eye brows and puffed out hair she looked like a troll when she was angry, and it was taking much not to laugh. “Ow!” He had hissed, the first sound he made that day, when he felt the last of the bandages ripped up from his wounded hands. The cloth had been sticking to them, held with dry pus. He was afraid that if he hadn’t made it bleed it would have never come off. “Well it looks better at least.” She sighed, examining the wounds again, but he didn’t see what looked better about it. There were calluses on his hands now from the popped blisters. He remembered workers in the castle always complaining about them, but he never really saw any health effect it might have for they all worked just as hard but their hands weren’t soft like his or his families. His cuts looked unhealed, in fact still open and oozing the crushed herbs that the inn keeper had stuffed in the other night. Now she was taking them all out, making him try and tug his hand away. “Stop yer squirmin’ and eat some fruit.” She sighed and he could hear the agitation in her voice as she continued with a sigh. “It’s too hot to be fightin’ ya.” And he agreed with that matter. Even if the inn bellow, with its windows open wide and a chunk of wood holding open the door, was much cooler than the halls and the rooms above it was still a muggy day. His own cloths were starting to stick to him uncomfortable, and with his left hand, for it was not under control of the woman, he pulled the thin shirt free from his chest. He sighed as she worked on his hand, feeling, but not daring to look, as she took the herbs out from the cuts and started to lightly re-wrap it. After all for cuts to heal they need air to dry. She rewarded him a hand to eat with when she was done, quickly reaching for his left as he stuffed a strawberry through his dry lips. He had missed their taste. After all the king was allergic, though little know of this, and so had forbid one to even breach the castle walls. He was almost tempted at times to leek this information to the many servants and knights that threatened at times to take the kings life. “Well at least this one seems better.” Sighed the inn keeper as Akistu put another strawberry to his lips, tossing the head of the first aside. She looked up to him, for the first time on that hot day letting a smile come to her heat flushed face. “You have to keep them clean now.” She said, looking down to his hand as she pulled the sticking cloth from his wounds. This time he winced a bit, happy the flavor of the strawberry was keeping him from tearing away from the agitated women. “I am wrapping it loosely so that means more dirt can git inside. You gotta be careful. No more runnin’ around like it seems you been doin’ all this time.” She ordered and he simply nodded his head as he tossed the third strawberry head aside. Still he ate and the sweet refreshing taste never got dull. The last tasted like his first. “Now I’m sorry but we don’t have room for ya tonight. You gotta go find yer own place to room.” As she spoke this he sensed something in her. There was disinclination in her eyes something that didn’t want him to go. Akistu patted his pocket at his chest, making sure his money stayed put. He would wait until latter, for if he found a better, more hidden place to room he would chose there, until he showed to her he could pay for a room and the food that had been free for him. He stood from the stool, out of habit leaving his scraps on the table, for in the castle he never once had to clean his meals up after he was finished. “Where do you think yer goin’!?” the innkeeper questioned and he turned to see her arms crossed over her chest and a glance to the mess on the table. “I was going for a walk.” answered Akistu though it did not take long for his eyes to follow her gaze to the table. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere till ya clean this up.” stated the woman sternly unfolding her arms to jab a finger at the mess. She must have trusted him to do as he was told for on e he started to scoop it into his hands she turned her back and started to guard the keys. He watches closely, still putting the last of the strawberry heads into his hands, as she moved behind the counter. Slowly he starts walking to the door and waits. When her attention is averted by a man looking for his keys he slips his mess into a clay vas by the door before turning and moving at a run out into the winding streets. His first challenge of the day was to map out where in such a confusing maze of roads, did his current lodging lie in the village.
.:~*~:.
A figure in black watched the prince eat, saw him, with some amusement, as he placed the leftovers from breakfast into the handmade vas. The person was leaning against the far corner of the inn in shadows invisible to all eyes. The prince himself had not even noticed that several times during such a small time period that had made eye contact. The figure left quickly when seeing the prince leave through the front door, only it did not follow. In fact the one garbed in black rages drifted over to the stair well unnoticed and when all attention was taken away had seemingly vanished under its floor. A passage, so dark, lit only by few candles so separate only small parts on the walls and the faint outline of damp downward stone stairs could be seen, yet despite the slippery footing and creeping dark the one in black seemed to move down with ease. Their feet, though covered in hard leather boots, did not so much as tap on the stone as they lowered deeper into the passage. Nearly impossible it was to know where stairs ended and floor stopped, yet they landed carefully, and were able to walk ahead, not even a candle to light the way, towards a small sliver of light at their feet. A door it was, closed before the figure and with great familiarity, for the one in black seemed to have known this rout well, reached out and took hold of a brass ring as a key, held with a tight grip in a hand hidden under the black layers, was placed in the door. It took but on turn and a hard push, one that took the figures entire body weight, for the door to open. The room inside held much difference to the damp halls of the passage way. There was a fire burning. If you were to clime up the chimney you would reach the master room before the roof. It made it easy for assassinations and thieving of the royals. The floors, in but on section of what appeared to be the main room, were wood. Sanded down and made smooth for bare feet. There was a single stone step that lead up to a base of stone where a bar sat and not a butler to watch the much stole beer and ale behind. Men and women climbed over and sat on the counter as they filled their cups and laughed and sang. The black robed figure walked in to the main room, still her feet not making a sound, but over the hum of voices, the shouting and stomping of feet, it would be impossible to hear even if she were stomping with the rest of them. “Silence!” yelled out a female voice and the robed figure reached a circle table, clothed in golden yellow fabric. The hood came off and a woman with black braided hair and grey eyes emerged from its shapeless form. Only some seemed to have heard and quieted, but the noise was still great and now even the entertainer fro the nights was starting to play a tune. “I said shut up!” She shouted, slamming the palm of her hand into the table, rattling it and the empty cups that lay upon it. When all was quite and she removed her hand what was left was a small brass inn key. “Now listen up!” She continued to yell despite the sudden silence taken on in the room. Her eyes scanned with a strong gaze, one that when you saw you knew who was in charge. “As all of you may know we have been falsely accused for the murder of Prince Akistu!” Still all was silent, not even a cough or a breath of air could be heard. Not even the sound of slurping, for everyone had stopped their obsessive drinking. “As much as we may want death upon the royal family I had no intention of killing the prince first and as you know I keep nothing hidden from you.” She walked as she spoke now, taking the brass key into her hand as she moved around the table, soon throwing her well-rounded body down into the creaking wood of an old chair. “This may be new to most, but the night before such a notice was slaughtering our name we had a visitor come to our inn in the night. My guess you ask? It was luck alone that lead him here if he is nothing more than a peasant. I doubt this however.” She stood again while speaking, this time pushing past the crowd of people, being shorter than most, and jumping behind the bar. All eyes were on her as she took a cup from a young man’s hands and dumped its content aside to re fill it. Though not with ale or beer like all the others consumed. She opened a bottle of wine straight from the castle buttery. “I have been to the castle and I have seen the prince and I must say both have an eerie resemblance to one another. It could be this king was either stupid enough or heartless enough to risk his only son’s life by having him find our hide-away and if this is so he has come awfully close. Too close for my own comfort.” Her eyes glanced over her obedient group of thieves. All loyal, all listening, or so she hoped for punishment was not great for those who dare go against orders. Her powerful gaze landed on a small man, one with bronzed hair and dark skin. He was the kind to easily blend into any crowd. The invisible man and one of her most trusted followers. “Mikan!” She called and the small male moved forward. The thieves standing right beside him seemed to be shocked to see he was so close, for not until he moved did they notice him there, but it was only the glimpse of movement that gave him away and nothing more. “Vick!” She shouted the other name and this time it was a woman who walked forward. She held a smug grin on her thin lips and held ale in one dirty hand. Her hair was cut short, the ends curling in, but she wore what looked like the remains of an old shirt over the top of her head. They both stood side by side, watching their leader sit cross legged on the bar, slowly slipping her arms, one at a time from the large black rags, switching hands as she sipped her wine. The cup was taken from her full apple like lips and slammed down beside her. “You two are to follow him. He is a little fella. Scares easily so be careful. The boy knows very well the danger he is in. I guess you could say he has good instinct so don’t take this mission so lightly.” Her hands now reached over her shoulder, pulling her braid to the side to twirl in her fingers, gray eyes scanning them as if looking for reason to change her decision. “You two will follow him.” She ordered, eyes never leaving ether form before her. “Make sure he is not planning anything and report to me at the end of the day.” There was a pause as she scanned the crowd again. This time more started shifting, others making their way back to table where they knew their drinks would be gone. After all they lived with many other thieves. When that was the case you kept you personal belongings close and anything else you said good bye to. “Nile!” She called the third name and the crowd parted as an old man with snowy thinning hair walked forward, a golden cane, most likely stolen and given as a gift, tapping the wood and than stone as he walked up the steps. Unlike the others who stopped at the first step, staying on the wood at the bottom of the small stone platform, he walked up the steps, a toothless smile on his face. “As frightnin’ as aways I see.” Spoke the old man in his slurred words, though unlike the others his speech was due to the lack of teeth in his skull. “I am not frightening.” said the leader with a smile, jumping down from her seat on the bar to take his shaking hand. It was rough, dirty and they looked like they had a long life. The veins showed as clear as rocks in water and to the touch they were rough as sand. His grip was firm, strong, making most eye brows raise when they thought they must be so gentle with the shaky man. “I have but one more task for you before you leave our family.” She said in a gentle tone. He had announced his leave only months ago. If it wasn’t such a difficult task to clear his name, bribe the right people and find him a safe place to hide away in comfort the rest of his life, he would have been gone by now. They had a party for him. He was showered with gifts, the best work most the members had ever snatched. After all it was a great loss to lose the old man, for he was like a grandfather to most and in his old age held great wisdom for the young ones. “Anything for you my dear.” answered the old man with a toothless grin. A set of teeth was going to be another gift for him, but the guild leader planed to give it to him as a parting gift instead of in front of the others. She smiled, by far one of her most uplifting looks. See the women in a crowd you would be intimidated, unsure if you should approach, but when she smiled it felt warm, sincere and trustworthy. It was a hook, catching lost soles on the street that have had everything taken from them. The kind of inviting look that said we have the same past, come work with me we can bring down what destroyed you. “I need a copy of this key.” She said, placing the bit of brass in his hands. He left its weight, held it between two fingers as he put it to the light, kind eyes now slim, professional. “Yesh.” He said, putting it back in the palm of his hand, picking a bit of dirt from a corner with his thick thumb as he smiled up at her. “yesh I can do that .” “Good.” Replied the leader, closing his fingers around it once again and letting him walk away, but not down the stairs. He turned and started walking towards the back for behind the bar was a passage leading to other rooms and treasuries and in his case a blacksmith’s room lay in the lower, cooler areas. “Go about your business.” She ordered, a demanding tone back in her voice as she stood, hands on her hips and the black cloak now sprawled at her feet on the floor. “Mikan. Vick…get to work.”
.:~*~:.
The day was half way over with its sun set high in the sky as noon started passing by to the later hours of the day. It was during the time that Akistu found his way from the winding allies and onto the main street; however he was far from the areas he had already known. During the funeral he had come out close to the dirt road that opened to the castle in the east. Now he noticed, for he was keeping a mental map of the town, that he must have come out further south than before. Closer to the vast fields and mountain trails, closer to the temples and deep lush forest. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing it didn’t matter to him where he came out, so long as he was traveling along a straight road and not around in tight circles. As it turned out he had wanted to visit the temple today. Back in the castle they had only one, very small, one to worship some god that oddly reminded him of his father every time his eyes lay upon it. His mother had scolded him once long ago for following a servant to its doors and standing before the alter with her. She had told him never to pray to a god, they take without giving. Especially that one, she had concluded, but young Akistu don’t think he was to hear, for it was so soft it just barely reached him. I will keep my promise. He had thought, but walked towards to bright path of white stone for even if he wouldn’t pray to a god, he could at least see where one lived. In the bright light from the sun the stairs and path, even the building itself seem to glow a radiant white light. Similar stone had been used in parts of the castle, but Akistu had never really seen it in such large amounts. The stairs were steeply raising, but each step was thin, making it a fairly easy climb for the elderly that wished to visit before their counted days reached zero. He paused before the bottom of the first step, simply looking up to the towering temple in the mountains. It was the furthest he had been from his kingdom. Just the thought of taking his first step into the mountains, the first step to the temple, the only path leading away from his home, was both enthralling and chilling. In his pause, as he gazed in wonder at the tall green trees, shrinking as the steps rose, as the mountain grew taller, a man passed him, A small man with bronzed hair and very dark skin, followed by another, this one women. She brushed by him, mumbling a soft, pardon me, as she passed. It reminded him he was in the way and so quickly started up the steps. They were surprisingly smooth, he could tell even through his deer skin boots. Back at the castle he always had to wear his boots because the stone halls and steps would make his feet raw if he did not, but the stairs at the temple were smooth. If he had his feet wrapped and had taken off his shoes he was sure to be able to slide across them. The man and woman were still ahead of him, though he had thought ether he was picking up speed or they were slowing down since already he was passing them on the steady climb up. There was shade now, the thick green of trees, acting as a loosely woven quilt, letting only speckles of sunlight through, took the glow away from the stairs, the white stone, but the shade was cooling, refreshing in the hot weather. It eased him, started taking the sweat away from his brow and he was finally able to peal the sticking fabric away from his chest. He noticed as well that as he raised the cooler the mountain had become. To the east he spotted the soaring tower of the castle, one being his very room. The sun was starting to set. As he put his arm up to shade his eyes he had to squint just to make out the golden orange orb sinking behind the high walls of his prison. It wasn’t the only thing he could spot from the top of the mountain, standing before the open arch to the temple grounds. Forest, so much green was around the village, making such a large place look so tinny. He saw the vast fields where he had hidden, seeming like pale green water in the breeze he felt sweep past him down the mountain to his kingdom. It was the first time he was able to see their home and the tops of all the mountains surrounding their boarder. He stood for a moment in astonishment as his grassy eyes scanned over the kingdom one last time before turning on his heal and walking through the tall arch., He looked up as he walked through, the large dome ceiling made him feel as an ant must when looking up to the top of a tree. His eyes were drawn to the colorful painting of, what he thought to be a god, striking down some form of demon; he spun around to see the top of the dome, open up to a hole in the top that would let the sun pour through in mid-day. His eyes were wide with amazement as he tried to make out the tiny engraved people on the tall marble pillars. The floors were just as sleek inside, only now when he looked down he could see, as if a fogged mirror, his reflection, and as if the floor bellow was another world, or at least a drop, the reflections of the tall pillars holding the large dome up in a spiral pattern, made them seem to continue into the floor. “Amazing.” gasped the prince only to seal his mouth closed when hearing the immense echo that bounced off the walls. It made his voice sound small and distant when it left the temple to travel to the open air outside the temple. For once he was able to tell the vast difference between his speech and the peasants. While theirs was harsher, choppy and sometimes slurred, he had learned to speak in a calmer, more flowing way of speech. His gaze traveled up again to the opening in the top of the dome. He could see the light green leaves from the tops of trees, a soft glow of yellow from the sun radiating from the edges. It was hard to believe that this was only the entrance. Putting his eyes ahead he slowly walked over to the first pillar. Even his soft boots managed to make a faint noise in the chamber as he walked. His hand smoothed across the marble, feeling cold in the humid hot weather. In fact the entire temple seemed cool as if a gentle breeze was constantly pushing through. For a while he walked in the spiral the pillars lead him in, finger tips brushing the cold stone. His hands even felt better when he pressed his loosely wrapped palms against it. Soon enough a door set before his eyes. It was wood, Akistu could tell by the small nicks near the brass handle and how it seemed softer than the rest of the stone structure. It was white however, like the rest of the building and had what looked like green vines creeping under the door frame. Slowly he walked over to the door, ear pressed against it, clay hair pushed aside to tuck behind his used ear. Someone was talking, or so it sounded that way. Dull hums, like the vibrations of male voices was what he heard, but could not be certain for many things like bees and humming birds made a similar sound. He inched closer, curiosity getting the better of Akistu. It must be the worshipers. He thought as his slender fingers coiled around the brass handle, turning it slowly as it screeched under his touch. The sound made him cringe, made loud by the echoing walls, but whatever was making the sound was undisturbed by it for it continued. He swung it open and it moved fast. The surprise of it’s lightness took him off guard, but before it could collide with the stone on the other end in bang that would surly get him caught he dove. It was nothing more than the tips of his fingers that caught it before the door could slam to the other side, and he hissed inwardly as he rose from the stone floor. More cuts there were on his arms and now stomach from the burn from the stone. “The king has gone mad!” A voice whispered its way into his ear. Akistu’s look of pain slowly dissolved into one of curiosity. His furrowed brow relaxed, his shoulders dropped and his muscles soothed as he inched forward. Unlike the room he had just left this was nothing more than a hall with rounded walls and ceilings. If he hadn’t known better Akitsu would have thought this part of the mountain to be marble, and that with some alien device they had drilled through to make everything perfectly smooth. There was more mumbled, most of which he couldn’t hear, but reluctant he was to move even closer. He plastered his back to one of the curved smooth walls, careful not to trip of drag his shoes along the stone for the long hall would carry the sound right two the speaking men. There was a turn up ahead and shadows cast on the ground on the other side. That’s where they were. He noticed and slowly bent away to try and pier around. He could only see the edge of a leather tunic that and the tip of a golden wing. He was able to recognize it on sight, even if it was only a small part of the golden thread. It was the king’s mark for his trackers. “He has us on a hunt for a ghost” continued the tracker, making Akistu’s throat tighten, his fist claw at the hard stone. He knows. Akistu thought feeling his legs grow weak, his body long to reach the floor. “He thinks the guild of thieves has him.” laughed the man and Akistu felt frozen solid. There was another laugh, one from a man; he guessed at the one the tracker had been talking to. It could have been a brother, but it sounded old and frail. A priest? He questioned, his body jolting when he saw a shadow pass over him, over the only window showing the green forest and tip of the castles towers in the distance. His skin crawled when the tracker backed up, and Akistu quickly pasted his back to the smooth stone with its refreshing coolness in the sticky heat. Behind him he heard the wooden door close, and before him the tracker was backing up still. Who was coming? He thought franticly. Where should I go!? He wanted to shout, but already his body was answering for him. “It’s best to do your job.” The old man’s voice echoed, Akistu already running down the hall. Once the tracker turned the curved corner he would be able to see Akistu running to the door. “Ya. I will, and be sure to….” It trailed in mumbled when he reached the wooden door, flung his body against it for an emergency stop before he pushed back, hand yanking the handle as he tossed himself from the hall and into the large dome room. The door flung closed behind him, sounding like the distant beating of a war drum as it clicked closed. “Can’t stay here.” whispered the former prince to himself as he spun around, eyes desperately trying to find the exit. When he had first came through the temple doors the room seemed big and empty, easy to navigate around, but in his panicked hurry everything looked the same and the pillars spiraling out from the hole in the middle made him dizzy. His head snapped around when he heard the creaking of the door and quickly he threw himself behind a pillar. He could hear his heat pounding at his ear drums, feeling it raise his chest with each panicked beat. The door slammed shut again and he closed his eyes, bit his lower lip. He rose onto his toes, only to lower again while his hands nervously grasped at the air from where they were stiff by his sides. It was as if a bubble of silence formed around him when two figures came into view, as he inched around the pillar as they walked forward. His eyes never left them. Even if it was not the tracker and whomever he was talking to but the man and women who came up ahead of him. Akistu was holding his breath as he walked on the balls of his toes behind the two. He had to follow them at least to the stairs before he was able to bolt down and back to the village. They were talking. Every so often he would spot the jaw of either the man or women moving, but not a single word of their conversation reached him. Which was odd since even the soundless tapping of their feet was bounded off walls and resonated back to his ears. If it hadn’t been for the temple being filled with a dulling orange glow from the setting sun Akistu would have been more curious of their conversation, and if the wooden door didn’t cry on its hinges as it opened he wouldn’t have run past them as they spoke and out the large arch to the stairs. By this time it was nearly all shaded up where the trees hovered over the marble steps, decorating it in light green leaves that sometimes fell in the cool wind from the mountain.
The orb of silence seemed to pop when the prince touched down at the base of the mountain. Already he missed the cool fresh air of the temple. It was muggy on the trail back to the village. There was no shade for all the trees were behind him on the way through the dense forest, up the mountain. It was a field that the path was on, making him feel exposed, letting the sun beat down on his shoulders, re past the cloths to his back. It was a relief when he reached the first of the farms on the end of the village, but only because he felt move hid as he walked under the shade from the barn. It was nearly dark when he started to pick up on the smells of late dinners, hear the sounds of opening bars and music played for entertainment after a long day. The road felt deserted, even though it was anything but. When he reached the main road people pushed past him, brushed his shoulders as they carried on their backs hay or grain for their horses or merchants saddling up their horses to depart for another long night or two of travel. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere, noise seemed to be everywhere, but no one was saying anything. It was just noise and bodies everywhere only making the heat and humidity escalate. The sun was set when Akistu made it to the ally, pulling on all the strings in his head to put together the pieces of a map he had only created that afternoon. Gran had told him once an excellent fighter can remember things on the spot. At that time he looked up to Gran so much that he trained his memory, but of course also being a fan of the guild, he practiced by remembering secret passages through his castle and the number of rings his father wore. He had also counted the jewelry in his mother’s oak chest and when he could he would snatch a piece only to give it back the next day. She always smiled at his achievements, saying she would have never known where it had gone and thanked him for returning it. Slowly he weaved in and out of the slender streets, being careful not to take what he thought would be a wrong turn into dead ends or worse a never ending circle. He was lucky his tiered mind had not to work too hard, for only a little ways into the ally and he could pick up on the music from the first night he ventured into the lower level of the inn. The words that were spoken to him by the inn keeper, telling him he was only aloud one last free night, faded away. After all it wasn’t something he was worried about. He needed a place to stay, and the inn was well hidden deep in the town. If he didn’t get another free night he knew he could afford a room until he found a way to raise money for his own. However hard it may be for one without any clue how to obtain it. It was surprise on not his face, but the innkeepers when he walked through the door, ducking under an empty bottle that smashed on the wall close to his head. She was behind her desk as he walked forward, starting to her desk, only before the young boy could even reach her she was running around to meet him. “What are ya doin here?” Asked the innkeeper, remorse linked to her speech as she bent down to his eye level, both rough hands resting on his shoulders. “It ain’t safe and we got no room for ya…” She paused, glancing over her shoulder when a man jumped onto the table and tore his shirt off. Her mouth twisted into a frown as she stood up, taking his wrist, for even still she was careful of his healing hands, and lead him to the back. To a place dully light where only few quiet customers sat drinking in silence. “Look we don’t got lots of money no more…I can’t be afordin’ ta give ya a room.” Her words were slow as she spoke to him, as if he was as clueless and stupid as his age seemed to imply in the village. The care and worry in her eyes kept him quiet. In fact it made him feel almost guilty to shake his shoulders free of her grasp. “Maybe it was a mistake to take ya in…I was warned ya homeless ones always come crawlin’ back.” She stood up straight now, a hand on her head as she looked in desperation to the front of the inn where more customers started ringing the bells, wanting rooms for the night. He noticed too a few merchants he had seen on the streets on his way back through town. She didn’t look back at him until his hand sunk down to the pocket in his shirt, and the look of anguish changed to inquisitiveness as the brown cloth money pouch, a black tie holding it closed, came into the palm of his hands. She walked forward again, watching him undo the knot on the cloth and he glanced up once to see her staring. Akistu leaned away from her, hovering over his gold and silver as a dragon protecting its hoard, as if a thief unwilling to give up his precious stash. He had his reasoning however. He didn’t want her to know just how much he had. When his hand came out with a single gold coin, not only her eyes, but the eyes of several others in the back room seemed to glow with it. Some even pushed their chairs out from the tables and leaned back to see if it was real or if it was truly a kid possessing something hardly ever seen in such parts. “Will this pay for a room? Maybe one I can stay in for some time?” asked Akistu and there was a tension in the air, a painful stab of silence as she wearily reached out her hand to take hold of the gold coin. She was examining it in her hands, weighing in on her fingers and at one point even biting into it hard. A smile formed on her lips, making her exhausted dirty face, brighten. ”If ya keep getin’ these than you can live her fer all I care.” explained the inn keeper making a grin also come to Akistu’s face. “Come.” She ordered, pocketing the coin as her hand pulled at his shoulder. “You can keep the room I already gave ya. Let’s get you some food now.” They were back in the noisy bar of the inn, passing through it as she brought him to the kitchen. Usually if you missed dinner you wouldn’t get any at all, but because such a generous payment was made, and because it appeared, to the prince, that the inn keeper held a soft spot for him he was given the privilege of putting the left over bread on a plate and taking an extra large bowl of warm stew. It had been sitting on the stove, cooling for it was the worker’s dinner and already all had eaten. He was simply eating the leftovers of the lower class. She lead him out from the sticky kitchen, for not even the chief would stay within ten feet of the fire place on such a hot night. The women walked ahead of him, pushing bumbling drunken idiots out of his path so he would not spill his food. He watched with amusement as the well built women pushed a man off a table and pulled at his arm for Akistu to take a seat as she swept glasses and old bread off the table. “Here, this should do.” She told him, checking once over her shoulder at the large crowd coming in at the front door. They were close to one of the side walls of the noisy down stairs, a corner of the room where not too much activity was. If anything it was a good place for him to observe without being noticed. It made him feel like a spy or one of his father’s trackers. He was stuffing his face when she sat down across from him, most likely for a short break before she went back to her desk where a woman with sagging breast and a dress that hung too low on her shoulders slammed on the counter, demanding service. Only his bright grassy eyes glanced up from his stew, the spoon still in his mouth. The coin was out of her pocket again and over and over she rolled it in her fingers, holding it up to the light before dropping it onto the table. “Tell me…” She started but cut herself up, glancing up to him as he spooned some more stew into his mouth, a trickle of graze dripping down his chin which he removed with the back of his bandaged hands. He was puzzled by he abrupt pause, and stopped hovering over his bowl to sit up straight and start nibbling on the dark bread. “What should I call you?” Asked the woman with a grin and Akistu was sure his eyes widened a bit as he bite a huge chunk out of the bread, one that filled his mouth completely and if he was lucky it would give him time to think. How suspicious would it be for him to have the same name as the prince, and it wasn’t like the entire people of the village had not known his name. It was mentioned at his funeral. He could picture perfectly the letter that was slipped under his door. His name was there. Too many mistakes Akistu noticed he was making. First Gran had seen him leave. Despite their hate for each other he thought the only reason his father should know is if the knight had told him. Second the guild knew he was alive for they knew they did not kidnap or kill him, third he had not thought of a name for himself outside of the castle and he was sure there were plenty more than those three. He was just in the habit of not realizing them until it was too late. The bread was becoming sweet soggy mush in his mouth, and reluctantly he swallowed, surprised the large lump didn’t choke him. At the moment he thought it to be a much better fate than giving his real name. She was still sliming at him, though he thought she would be more puzzled at the way he delayed speaking. Of course, he though, she must only be admiring false good manners. Slowly he put the rest of his bread back in the plate, leaning forward to hover over his bowl yet again and put the silver spoon back in his hands. He had to wonder why a place made for peasants and workers, one said to be low on money, was able to have such fine silver. “Eden.” He mumbled quickly before filling his mouth with the cool stew. He noticed however, before his eyes dropt to the empty bowl, for he was left with scraping the gravy off the edges, that he smile faltered and her elbows left the table to lean back in her chair. “That was my brother’s name.” She nearly whispered and Akistu was starting to wonder if he was too hear most the things he did. He was starting to wonder if his hearing was better than most. She shook her head as if shaking off the past, rewrapping old wounds. “Now tell me…Eden.” He nodded his head, letting her know he was listening as he stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth. He was never able to stuff his face at the castle, and he had hardly eaten all day. Akistu was starved and it felt damn good to fill his mouth till he could hardly chew let alone swallow. “Where did ya get so much money? Not the castle I hope ‘’cause I don’t want any botherin’ from them guards. I don’t need them comin’ in an’ takin’ another one away from me fer havin’ crafty hands and a good head on ‘is shoulders.” This woman was getting troublesome. It seemed every chance she got he threw a question at him he had no stomach to answer. Every time she seemed to be seeing right through him and it was tiresome. Akistu noticed he was out of bread and already swallowed the last chunk he had in his mouth when she asked the question. There was no way for him to possible delay Of course except for the drink to his right which he reached for only to feel a slap on his hand. “Oh no, don’t be drinikin’ that. The last thing I need it a little kid like you ta be bouncin’ around half naked.” The inn keeper chuckled, standing as she took the drink into her hands. “I’ll get ya some water, stay put.” She walked away than, and even though it wasn’t quite what Akistu had planed, he was able to sigh heavily in relief and slump down into his chair. The way the woman was however she would no doubt be expecting an answer by the time she came back. The fact she had left gave him time to ponder on his next lie. He closed his eyes, slowly beginning to drain out the many sounds around him. He was a peasant, kicked out of the castle after his parents passed away. There was no way he would so much as be aloud near the treasury, and every peasant knew for the king was too worried of hiring a guild member and waking up the next morning with not a piece of silver to his name. How would I have gotten the money? He questioned himself, frustration sinking in. It was becoming a strenuous task to keep his mind focused with all the sound, with all that happened. His grassy eyes fluttered open, the inn keeper coming back with a mug of water in her hands. Think! He thought, feeling her get closer, sounds getting louder, things more crazy, than it all stopped. He remembered something Gran had told him once, and as the women sat down, sliding the mug before him. “So as you were sayin,?” she asked as Akistu had thought she would. He couldn’t help but grin even still as he pressed the mug to his lips, sipping at the sweet fresh water. It was cold, coming from deep in the well no doubt. “A knight gave it to me.” answered the young boy confidently, his smug grin fading when the women laughed. Was it hard to believe? He wondered, feeling his head heat up as he slumped forward to rest his chin on the table. Was Gran lying to me? Though the prince again, closing his eyes to think back as several others looked on to see what was so funny. Gran told him about it, and the servants always talked about it as well. Whenever Gran would go out to the village, ether to escort their visitors out from the country, or simply to run errands for the queen, he would stop and hand over gold or silver to the misfortunate on the streets. Mostly the one’s who couldn’t care for themselves. “Who was it the king of thieves perhaps, disguised as a knight?” more seemed to look up as she snorted this, even Akistu raised his head in curiosity. He had the feeling however he was the only one who did not know the tale, so he was reluctant, and only did so since he could use the excuse of living in the castle for some time for not knowing it, “There is a king of thieves?” The whole room now seemed to erupt in laughter, even the music stopped to listen in on their conversation. “You can’t tell me you’ve never heard it before!?” Asked the inn keeper and diffidently he shook his head. This time Akistu was greatly relieved when the room didn’t break into laughter, but not so pleased as the woman took hold of his wrist and tore him from his seat. It was more than a bit nerve raking to be pushed along through the room by people he had seen around, but never spoke to, never even been in contact with. He was turned around several times as he was pushed and shoved through the crowed. Almost fell to his hands and knees only to be caught half way to the floor and pat hard on the back. When he was no longer seeing nothing but large bodies and excited faces he was sitting on a cleared off table directly before the stage and on top stood the inn keeper, looking around at the crowd, smiling that calming grin at him. That’s when the story began.
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The guild began at the beginning of the reign of the evil king, only it started out as not an assassination group against the man and all he stood for. Back than they had a king of their own. In fact their king was well known around the kingdom. He was a kind man and held within him a grand treasure of valor. When he started the guild he was but a boy of fourteen. It was meant to be a game for fun and play for him and his vast group of friends to play. Only slowly it had started to develop. As kids they practiced stealing snacks and goodies from their homes before dinner, but as they grew so did their games. In time they were snatching from people on the streets, and shops, even a few merchants had been pulled into their trap. People complained, but the king simply laughed and told them they would tier of it eventually before pushing them off. This was the very beginning of the king’s reign. He was a foolish young man at the age of twenty seven and knew not the trouble children breaking his law would make. Before long he grew aggravated. More and more people were complaining. “The children are stealing my farm animals” “The children are taking my grain” “The children are stealing my goods to sell in the markets.” Merchants were afraid to come and sell valuables and food, fearing such a well known group of seventeen year old boys! The king’s temper was growing by the day, with each new complaint coming his way. He was growing tiered of their game, enraged by their law breaking. “There too old for this game!” proclaimed the king after three years since the boy’s children started their game. “Find them. Family friends, find them all and bring them to me and if you fail you will be the one hanging in their place!” He instructed to five soldiers and they obeyed the sudden orders. They head out in peasants cloths, for the men he hired were quite clever for men of the royal guard, and rubbed dirt into their hands and cheeks to look as the hard working farmers or at least of peasants without homes. They went to merchants, some of the few who still dare to do business in the village, to stores and homes, but every time they brought up the subject the door slammed in their face. The sun was starting to set and the young group of soldiers feared their luck was up, along with their life. It was as the sun set that they headed to a barn and paid a poor old man for the horses in his barn and he took it with joy for it looked as if he and his family hadn’t eaten in some time. They mounted the tiered looking animals and started back, heads hanged low, all wanting to turn around and run, until the smallest of the five spoke up. “What if we set a trap?” he inquired and all heads turned to him in curiosity. “What kind of trap do you purpose?” Asked another and all horses had stopped on the dirt path. “We are dealing with deft young men?” He continued before the younger answered quickly, feeling confident of his own cleverness. “We go back to the village tomorrow dressed in our normal artier and I shall hold in hiding, but for all to see, a valuable treasure from our castle treasury. We will walk to the town, acting like we are to hide something and burry it in the mountains by the temple. Sure enough these thieves should see us and come after it.” “How are we to catch them if we leave it there?” Asked another, this one mellow, one usually of few words, but the plan intrigued him. “We won’t really leave, we will make it appear that we have left, and when they come we can capture the one’s that come.” All smiled, nodding their head in agreement, but not one expected the king of thieves to be as vigilant as he was. They followed the path home after that with pride on their shoulders for the king couldn’t kill them when they mentioned to him their cunning plan. It was a long night, one of maddening argument, but come dawn the aspiring king agreed to their terms and gave them one day, but not to capture the thieves, to follow them home, bring in their families. It was the little one with the clever plan that went into the treasury and snatched up the finest looking gold goblet he could find, for a cup was worth much and easy to transport, however the young seventeen year old, new in fact to the royal guard, and already showing outstanding skill in his line of work. He examined it in the sun light when they traveled through the inner ward, to the draw bridge where their horses waited, the rubies that lined the top sparkling in the sun, casting speckles of red over his tanned skin. “It’s a fine choice.” The large of the group of five complimented, watching the enigmatic green eyes of the young man pull away from the cup. Both exchanged a half smirk, for the little one in thanks, for the larger in acknowledgment to what was to happen that day. Sure enough they would be promoted for their outstanding achievement. They mounted the horses, the small green eyed guard tucking the glinting gold cup under his cloak, but letting the mouth of the cup, with one of its large rubies lean out to glint off the sunlight as they left the castle. They traveled down the dirt path, ticking their cloaks up high for the mountains were blowing in a chilly wind and flakes of light snow. The light was starting to fad when clouds came in to loom over the village, but the sun had already did its job. It already gleamed off the cup, sending up a signal when they traveled the fields leading away from the castle. Sure enough the guild members would see if they kept close eye on the castle as instructed. The hoofs of their horses tapped on the coble stone as they road in their uniforms down the main road. So long as you stayed on the straight away you would have no fear of getting lost. The main long street lead straight from the castle, through the center of town and came to a fork, one leading to the mountain trail, that lead away from their kingdoms and through the mountains, eventually landing you in the forest of Kirashin, (Kirashin being a kingdom, a current enemy to Asmalen.) The other path lead up into the mountains as well, only stopped at their temple. That was where the cup would be buried, but the guards were growing weary if their plan would work. No one appeared to be following them like it was agreed would happen. The younger of the guards saw their worried looks and with a smile on his face took the goblet from his cloak. “Don’t worry they have seen.” He assured, tossing it up high into the air, only when he tried to catch the treasure it slipped from his fingers and rolled to the side of the stone road. They were by the stairs of the temple when it happened, and quickly as the young guard could he jumped from the horse and chased after it into the cover of the trees, the older and larger of the two quickly following after. The other three waited, uneasy on their horses for the sun was blocked by thick storm clouds making it near impossible to tell when dark was upon them. The smaller of the two was the first to walk back out from the trees near the steps of the temple, the golden cup in his hands. By than it became obvious to the guards that night was upon them, for the only lights they had were there lanterns they carried with them, strapped to the saddles of their horses and taken down and light when the veil of black was cast over the kingdom. “Sorry.” said the small guard with a repentant grin and a voice from behind called back as his large frame emerged from the blackness of the forest, “Just be sure not to do it again.” The group was amazed, and the youngest surprised to see the older there, yet all kept their surprise silent when both found the treasure and made it out without getting lost. It was decided on, by the master mind, that the goblet was to be buried off to the side, near the trees where the steps started up to the temple. He said it was so they had the forest to hide them as they waited. The torches surrounded them, the light hissing of burning oil being the only sound besides the snow owls hooting in the distance. “It’s not right!” Complained one taking his hands away from the hole they dug. “The owls are still here no one has followed us! If there was a single guild member around, they would have long fled.” The other’s nodded in agreement before he continued; now standing from his spot in the snow on his knees. “I am cold, my hands are frozen and this will never work!” “Than leave.” interrupted the young one. “And anyone else who thinks this plan will not work leave as well. I can watch the cup, I can track them down and I will get the reward.” “Reward!?” shouted the man, the other’s remaining silent, all looking to the two arguing, that is all except the older of the five, still pushing snow over the golden cup. “There is no reward! The most that King will give us is a grunt of approval?” “Do you really think so?” The younger questioned, standing as well, taking his lantern with him to hold high near his head. “Because I think there will be a grand reward for handing in his enemy.” “Oh and what kind of reward!?” he continued to yell, arms thrown up high in the air. “I will get a high position among the royal guard. I will gain the trust of our king.” Spoke the younger, heightening his voice so the others would think it him who frightened away the owls. “Maybe you will get the cup.” He remarked with a flick of his wrist and the two others ran over to restrain him before his fist could collide with the young man’s jaw. The oldest of the five gave the master mind a light tap on his shoulder, telling them all, the cup was buried and that all that was left was for them to watch. He also pointed out, snow beginning to fall down on the path to the temple, frosting over the already white steps, that the owls were gone, but the others argued it was the loud voice of the youngest that frightened them away. He shook his head, glanced over to the pile by the temple and back again to his partners. “Not the owls around us, the ones far off. They hear things coming from the forest closest to town. The guild is coming.” All sat in the darkness, hidden behind trees, torches put out, but not a sound was heard, not a movements made. A storm was blowing in. The light flurry that once came from the sky thickening and the wind dropping the temperature bellow zero. “This is useless.” The same man complained, brushing snow off his shoulders. “I am tiered, hungry, and feel like going back even if it means my head.” “Than we will watch it in turns.” suggested the younger, standing up to stretch his arms into the air. “I am tiered as well and would like something to eat.” “I will take the first shift.” One volunteered, for he was the most awake out of the five and thought the guild was close. In fact all wanted this plan for all wanted a shot at getting all the credit for the capturing of the guild. The first of the five watched out, the others setting up a small fire to eat, they slept and when his time was up reluctantly he went to get the next while he ate and slept and same with the third. The night was growing short with each hour than passed and finally the oldest was up and looking out, only his eyes were not on the gold cup, but the youngest who slept soundly. Hours passed, longer than the other three held up for. The sun was starting to break through the thick clouds as dawn crept up on them before he walked over to wake the youngest. “Did you find them?” He mumbled the second he sat up from his thick quilt and saw the sun. “No.” Answered the older quickly, watching him walk over to the buried cup. It was as he was settling down in his own blanket that the other’s voice shouted out, hands getting chilled as they dug through the snow, “Where is it!? Where is the goblet!?” He turned around as quickly as he could; only being able to see the knights back and the snow he pushed aside as he dug through the snow. Quickly he ran over, grabbing the other’s shoulder and yanking him back. Sure enough the hole they dug was empty. “Where is it!?” shouted the guard to the other, waking the others from their light sleep. “Where is the cup!?” The smallest merely shook his head, standing up from the snow. “It was your watch! You were supposed to keep an eye on it!” He shouted back and the oldest had nothing to say. The smaller of the two walked back to the path near the temple stairs, ahead of the other so they couldn’t see his smile, they didn’t know how much he was enjoying it. “We should split up!” announced the young one, switching his grin in for a straight face as he spun around to face the rest. “No. We go in groups. Look for a trail.” The oldest argued. “I will go with you.” He continued, jabbing a finger at the master mind. “We will take the temple and the rest of you travel the trail back to town.” “Do you not trust me?” questioned the younger of five, smiling up to the oldest. He didn’t give an answer, and the others agreed for if the thieves went anywhere it would be back to town to hide their new treasure. The two traveled together, slowly up the stairs of the temple. There was not a foot print in the snow, not n echo of sound in the distance. The entire forest, the temple the falling snow was an echoing silence. “Why do we come this way?” The youngest finally asked as they reached the top of the stairs, the mountain, stood before the temple arch way. It was colder. The wind nipped at their noses and cheeks as it brushed the snow from the roof of the holy structure. “Return the goblet king of thieves.” The oldest demanded and for a while there was no movement, no change in sound or sight. “King of thieves?” questioned the other, a smile breaking on his lips. “I have been called many things, but never such a catchy title reached my ears.” “The goblet.” the older knight demanded, now one rough over large hand un coiled before the thief. The king of thieves looked down at his hands hidden under the thick winter robe. He pushed it back, showing the glint from the ruby of the golden cup. “First.” He laughed, tossing it up into the air with ease and catching it quietly with his other hand. “Tell me how you knew?” he demanded, green eyes mocking the other and though he couldn’t see the other’s gaze in the dark he could make out the dark outline slowly backing away to the center opening at least twenty feet above their head. “Your age.” the oldest answered, matching the thief’s backward steps with his forward ones. “So are you one to accuse every man at the age of seventeen? Very reckless of you. Do you have any idea how many seventeen year olds there can be in this small village?” “And I saw you.” He continued, the thief, now directly bellow the opening and the older guard refusing to let him disappear behind the many pillars encircling him. “In the forest. I followed you when you dropped the cup. You were talking to someone. I heard voices. You were laughing with them, telling how easy it was to sneak into the royal guard.” The thief was even laughing now as he explained it, infuriating the guard more so than he was for being tricked. “You told them your plan!” He shouted, stopping the other’s laughter as he drew his sword, metal gliding across the sheath like a cry of death. “What are you planning!?” He demanded, but the thief was grinning once again. “Shh.” He whispered, placing the goblet in his other hand once again. “If you’re quiet you can hear many things in a temple.” He continued and of course the guard didn’t care to listen, didn’t want to play games. “Hand over the goblet!” He demanded, raising his sword to a fighting stance, his legs spread, his guard up, but the thief didn’t draw his sword. He waited, staying still, his grinning face and enigmatic eyes hidden with a sheet of nights black cloak. “As you wish.” he whispered and bent low to toss the cup along the marble floor. It rattled, bumping unevenly every time the rubies hit the ground, making it go in a semi circle at the guards feet rather than straight too him. His eyes were reluctant to leave the thief. His ordered were to follow him, and follow him he would. His knees bent as he reached down, hand enclosing around the cup. That’s when he dared look away and from behind he heard the tapping of feet. His head whirled around, but the only thing there was darkness. The guard was growing weary, frightened like a child trapped in a nightmare. His eyes scanned the darkness as if waiting for something to jump out from the black, but nothing came and by the time he snatched up the cup and looked towards the center of the temple the thief was gone. He ran forward to the center, a bed of snow at his feet. He saw the foot prints to where the thief had entered the circle, and where he stood in the center, but none leaning away. Not one foot prints showing him what direction to move. The guards cursed, kicking the snow at his feet. Only one last look he took at t
Aki112 · Wed Jun 20, 2007 @ 02:26pm · 0 Comments |
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