Young Writers Society

The passageway was long and dark. Silence met my ears, broken only by my breath and the echoing, steady drip of water somewhere in the distance. My footsteps resounded only to be swallowed by the shadows, like some great beast lurking there. I suppressed a shudder as I proceeded deeper down the passageway.

I was drawn like a moth to the light. It was inexplicable but it was like a magnet pulling me towards whatever truth or road lie down in the depths of these tunnels.

Laughter from somewhere near. I stopped, sniffing the air — people. The dampness of the corridor had made the scent difficult to detect, but, sure enough, it was there.

I slowly padded around a corner where the noise was coming from, and the sight that met my eyes was anything but expected.

Men and women of all shapes and sizes and colors were scattered about a large torchlit cavern that seemed to have been turned from a cave to a tavern. They laughed and argued and spoke, some in hushed undertones, others in loud, drunken slurs. They were working at every activity imaginable: bartering, gambling, brawling, trading, armwrestling, cleaning, serving, some even writing or reading. The din was made of a cacophony of sounds from the many individuals speaking to the clanging of dishes and platters.

No one even noticed the small red-haired girl standing in the doorway watching them with wide eyes and bloodied bandages. I watched in stunned silence until a serving woman with long, black hair glanced up and saw me. She looked at me in surprise and a few others around her turned to see what the fuss was about.

Within about a minute I went from a quiet observer to the center of attention as they gazed at me with shock or incredulousness, some with curiosity.

A man with black hair and eyes the color of the savannah. He looked me over like a hawk and I felt as though he could see my very soul.

He asked me something in Common. His tone was even and neutral though I knew full well I was an outsider and in another pack’s territory. When I didn’t seem to understand, he tried again in a second tongue. On his third try he used Wolven — that I could comprehend.

“What is your name, child?”

I looked at him apprehensively but decided it was better to just answer his question; it was relatively harmless and if this devolved into a fight or some such I could neither defend myself nor run well. “Agrona.”

He raised an eyebrow. I was the first wolf-child with such a name in generations and the rarity and prestige of being called such did not escape him. “And if you are a wolf, then why are you here?”

Now that was a bit more difficult to answer. “I was cast out.”

Silence, for a moment, as he made sense of that. “Why would they exile one they call the death-bringer? You would be quite…valuable, little cub.”

The way he said the word ‘valuable’ made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “I did not turn.”

This piqued the man’s interest. Long fingers stroked his shaven chin as he pondered my response and its significance. “Tell me, how did you find your way here?”

“It’s my fault,” a feminine voice interjected. It was the barkeep from the inn. “I gave her a pick, wanted to see if she’d come.” Now they were speaking Wolven simply for my benefit.

“I see.” The man looked me over. “Well, if you want to take the time, I suppose she can stay. She’s small, and the girl can obviously handle herself in a fight. Probably quite the sneak too, eh, wolf-child?”

I nodded.

“Ari!” he yelled and a second Plainsman came over, tattoos over his face and a few piercings in his ear. They spoke for a moment in Common before the newcomer turned to me.

“You ready to start your training then, little wolf?” he asked me.

Training for what I knew not, but despite what little knowledge I had I knew they offered my refuge, and that I was enough. I nodded in agreement, not realizing that this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life that would change me forever.

_____________________________

They called themselves the Pride, though most knew them as the Thieves’ Guild or even simply just the Guild. The man I’d initially spoken too was named Lynx. He was ‘the Wildcat’, the leader of the Pride. Ari was his second-hand man and the barkeep who’d slipped me the pick was Thuki, the main informant and fence of the Guild. She had ears everywhere — I’d swear by my life that there was nothing in going on in the city she didn’t know about, from a dead stray animal to an undercover operation by the Guard or the Hunters.

Ari showed me the ropes and taught me Common in his lilt, showing me everything from how to stay quiet in the night to the best ways to lie and blend in. He taught me several valuable lessons: to base a lie off a truth to make it believable, to use the lights and shadows in the night to one’s advantage, to ambush quickly and silently. He even showed me to evade the Hunters’ dogs, whose noses were almost impossible to fool.

He was a patient teacher but was anything but soft. If I made a mistake, I paid the price. He threw me in the lake and I learned to swim or I drowned; there was no easing me in. One such lesson was one learned quickly and remembered forevermore.

He’d sent me off to go and get an item, a gold ring, that was on the other side of the Southwest Quarter from the Lair. He said it was within an occupied house that I’d have to break into. It was as night fell, so first I had to keep from being noticed until I reached the objective. Once I got to the building, I had to sneak in and out without being caught. Then, as night fell, I had to get back to Ari and the Lair. If I returned without the ring, I failed; if got caught stealing and returned with the ring, I failed; if I returned with the ring and had not been charged with taking it illegally, then I succeeded.

The anticipation for the activity had been building up all day, a mix of excitement and fear. If I got caught breaking in it would mean a serious punishment — I’d heard of some people who had lost fingers or hands for such offenses. Even if I was only brought in for being out after curfew it would mean a night in the cages, and it was not a pleasant place. If I succeeded, however, it would earn me a lot of points with Ari and the Guild. It would show them I was a lot more than a stealthy wolf-child; I was a real thief.

My injuries from my days in the Pack had long since healed, leaving only pale scars that would remind me of what happened when I had been cast out.

I was in the inn I’d stumbled into several months ago, that I’d since learned was known as the Golden Gryphon. Thuki was at the bar as usual and I was simply waiting for it to become time, holding a cup of warm soup that Ol’ Miek had made for me.

“For good luck,” he’d told me a bit brusquely and disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Y’ got everythin’, Agrona?” Ari’s voice came from behind me and I turned, surprised; almost no one could sneak up on me, with senses as keen as mine.

Lockpick: check. Extra lockpick: check. Boot knives: check. Sleeve knives: check. Extra hair tie: check. Rope: check. Grappling hook: check. Gloves: check. “Yah,” I replied, glancing nervously outside.

“Then the game begins, little wolf. Good luck.”

I brushed my hair back and stood, taking a breath before I pushed outside into the waning sunlight. I started down the street with a confident stride, and I kept to the middle of the road. I found that if I slipped through the shadows or stayed to the side it drew more attention than if I simply walked there.

The house itself wasn’t difficult to find, nor was keeping from getting noticed. It was a two-story building, stone but a bit rundown. Oddly enough, the Northeast Quarter was among the richest, though it bordered the poorest in town. The Southwest Quarter was where most of the workers lived, who had trades and who had a decent living, albeit rather crowded. The Northwest Quarter was where most of the richer merchants or artisans lived and the Northeast was where the castle itself was.

I peered up at the large home. The ring would probably be in the upper story, likely in the bedroom where it would be more difficult to obtain. I glanced around in the twilight, and, upon seeing nor hearing a soul, I started my ascent up the wall. The rocks were a bit unreliable at times so I had to be sure to test them, and weathering had made many corners slick; however, a lot of the mortar had cracked, which gave me plenty of hand- and foot-holds. Once I reached the nearest window, I pressed my ear to the shutters. Due to the fact it was obviously among the cheaper-end merchant homes, the windows weren’t glass, which was both a blessing and a curse. I couldn’t see through it, but, on the flipside, they couldn’t see me.

I heard two individuals breathing within. Judging by the rate of their breaths I guessed them to be sleeping. This was probably the bedroom. I grasped the windowsill with one hand, steadying my grip before reaching a hand into the pouch on my belt and withdrawing a pick. I put it between my teeth and pushed the shutters so they were as open as I could make them, opening a crack about one inch wide. They were locked from the inside so I had to slip my small fingers through the gap and fumble for the lock. Once I found it, I let go with my left hand and leaned forward so I was falling into the wall and passed the pick to my right hand that was inside the room. It took some work but I eventually managed to get the lock to click and it dropped to the ground. I froze as I heard the clatter and someone roll around, but they quieted rather quickly. After standing still for another few minutes, just to be sure, I pushed open the shutters and silently dropped inside.

The room was relatively large in comparison to those of the peasants’ or workmans’ homes. It had a large bed pushed towards the wall opposite of me and the door was to my left. A lamp sat on the nightstand and on the one on the opposing side of the bed from me was what appeared to be a locked drawer, though I was too far to tell.

I slipped around the foot of the bed and to the nightstand, glancing over at the sleeping figures. They didn’t even stir as I knelt in front of the drawer. There was most definitely a lock on the top one, and from the looks it was a decent one, though not impossible to pick.

I inserted the slim wire into the lock and started to work on the tumblers. Had I not been human, my ears would have been swiveling every which way as I struggled with the obstacle.

Movement outside the door. Breathing, snuffling, the click of claws. A dog, perhaps? I should’ve thought of that before. If it started barking and betrayed my presence…

I should have run then, but the thought of failure made my stomach churn. I worked with twice the speed on the lock as I listened intently to the beast.

A low growl came through the door as the drawer came open. I glanced back at the plank of wood separating me and sure capture as I started digging through the drawer desperately, looking for the ring.

Please let it be here, please, please, please, I begged to Winter, the worg goddess of vengeance and the Hunt, but, most important to me at that moment, survival.

My fingers closed around the object I’d been searching for as the canine’s snarl grew in volume, causing it’s masters to roll and shift restlessly in their sleep. I grabbed the valuable and ran to the window, grabbing the grappling hook at my belt and unwinding the rope, leaping through my only escape and hooking the rope behind me, sliding down it with friction so severe it would have burned me if not for my gloves. I hit the ground with a thump and shook the rope up to dislodge my hook. It fell to the ground in front of me and I grabbed it with haste as I raced through the shadows, the sound of the now-baying dog haunting me.

I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached, throat parched as sweat soaked through my shirt. I stumbled as I slowed and leaned against the wall of an old brick building. I was back somewhere into the Southeastern Quarter, that much I knew. I wrapped up my hook and put it back on my belt as I leaned my head back and raised the glittering golden ring. It gleamed as the starlight made the small rubies set into it as though they were on fire.

But I wasn’t clear of trouble yet. I heart footsteps coming and caught view of a flickering lamplight. That was Guard, I could tell that much, and if I was caught out here with a grappling hook, lockpicks, hidden knives, and a valuable ring I’d surely be arrested for more than being out late. I stepped back into the shadows, hoping not to get noticed as I started to back off.

“Hey! You!” The man broke into a run upon seeing the movement, hot on my tail as a I bolted.

Oh, gods, please let me make it.