Prophecy of Thieves [chapter 8]

Zain was either the luckiest or unluckiest bastard in all of Arlan. First, he was tasked with killing the Ghost, and now he was being sent on a delusional quest for a delusional king. Although, the coin he could gain from both may just have been worth it.

The plan was simple. Complete the ‘prophecy’ and gain the coin promised, killing the girl along the way. It would be easy enough once they were in the depths of the forest or even the Yamut desert. Her death could be explained as a variety of environmental factors, and any blame would be directed away from him. Then he could collect both rewards and go on his way as the richest man in Arlan.

When he had posed his plan to Master Rune, the Master of Assassins had readily agreed.

“How much did the king offer?”

Zain had named the sum.

Instead of his jaw dropping in shock like Zain’s had, his master tapped his fingers against his oak desk and contemplated. “Should you complete both, I receive fifty percent of the winnings, and you will be free of your debts.”

Zain’s brows rose. It still gave him plenty of money but… “My debts are not that high.”

“No, but I will miss out on business opportunities in your absence. As my finest assassin, it is not in my best interests to have you unavailable.”

Zain’s jaw tightened. “Thirty percent.”

“Forty.”

He had begrudgingly agreed, seeing no way to further bargain.

Sneaking back to the palace had been as effortless as sneaking out, the ignorant guards blind to the shadow that crept in their midst.

Now, seated upon a horse and amid strangers, Zain gazed over his companions and tallied observations in his mind.

The prince was no threat, thin and scholarly as he was. The Styrkish girl and the bastard were worrisome, should they find the need to protect the Ghost. While Rieka was short, she was broad and muscled, indicating her adeptness at fighting. Kai looked every part the warrior, tall and well-built. Though as a guard and friend to the prince, Zain assumed he fought with honor, unlike Rieka. The latter was more troublesome.

The other boy, Ren, was possibly the most worrisome of all. Zain didn’t recognize him, but upon meeting his gaze, he immediately guarded his pockets. He strongly suspected the boy had already stolen goods off of the guards or those accompanying them. He looked to be part Larabosi, his skin not as dark as Kai’s, but a different shade than Zain’s tan. He found it ironic that Arlan’s prophecy included only one of its people.

He then turned his attention to his target. Even without the revealing gowns of a whore, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it was enough to make any man lose his train of thought. Fortunately, Zain was not one to lose his senses so easily.

As though sensing his attention, the Ghost’s sister turned her sharp eyes to him, dark hair bobbing. Something about the young girl… It was both familiar and foreign. Something powerful.

Zain turned away, staring ahead at the passing forest. The tasks ahead of them… Perhaps he was foolish to accept the king’s contract.

He didn’t know much of the artifacts, but he knew they were greatly revered and therefore heavily guarded. To take them would not be a simple feat, especially not with a band of children wavering on the brink of adulthood. No matter what holy word the clergy believed, they were fools to send off their prince on such a dangerous mission.

Zain held no concern for his own safety. He had plenty of weapons concealed beneath his clothes to ensure that. What he did hold concern for was whether completing this mission was even possible.

Glancing at his companions, he knew his doubt was warranted.

…

That evening, they stopped in the small town of Arkwood, the prince booking three rooms at a shabby tavern with his full pouch of gold. While riding, Zain had briefly sorted through the supplies stashed in the saddlebag and found no more money there. Only clothes, rope, toiletries, and other necessities. He hoped the young prince had brought more coin than the single pouch.

After housing their horses within the stables, the group gathered at the dining area of the tavern and ordered stew and stale bread. Everything about the building was old and dilapidated, the walls stained with mold and the wooden floors cracked and warped. Zain expected the pretentious prince to cringe at the state of the tavern, but to his credit, he only glanced around briefly before turning his eyes to the others.

“So, we are going to be spending quite a bit of time together—”

“No shit, dumbass,” Rieka muttered into her stew. Zain cocked a brow. He wasn’t sure whether to scowl or laugh.

“Let him speak,” Kai said, his voice hard. He didn’t bother touching his meal, his attention focused wholly on the conversation at hand.

The prince shot Kai a grateful glance before continuing. “We should get to know one another. See how our different skill sets can assist in accomplishing our tasks.”

Zain had to appreciate the prince’s logic. He wasn’t one for sentimental conversations, and he definitely wasn’t one to begin telling his life story to a group of arrogant teenagers. Instead, the prince’s reasoning was easily followed.

“What do you want to know?” Rieka asked, leaning back in her chair. She tore off a chunk of her bread, smacking loudly. Both the prince and Kai cringed.

“How you can contribute to the group. It will be helpful knowing our strengths in order to better work together.”

Zain wasn’t sure if they truly wanted to know his strengths. He doubted the prince would be talking so casually if he did.

“You’re the prince,” the elfish boy, Ren, said with a smirk. “What if our strengths are… disreputable?”

Rieka scoffed. “That’s one word for it, thief.”

“Says you. You punch people for a living,” Ren argued.

“It’s more honorable than your profession.”

“You’re just mad because you lost money to me.” Ren turned to the prince with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “It was all a misunderstanding, you see…”

“Misunderstanding?” Rieka pointed her spoon in accusation at Ren. “This little heathen lost a bet on one of my fights, so he decided to go behind my back and steal all my money!”

Ren covered his mouth with his hand, snickering. “It was pretty funny…”

Rieka lips parted to retort when Kai pounded a fist on the table, quieting them. “Is this all a joke to you?” Despite the anger simmering in his dark eyes, his voice was calm. “The gods have sent us on a journey that could very well end our lives, and you are here bickering like children.”

Silence hung over them with weighted tension.

“If you won’t arrest me for saying so, Prince Ambrose,” Ren said, disrupting the quiet. “I have a long list of strengths.” Rieka rolled her eyes as he reached into the inner pocket of his jerkin, pulling out a handful of coins. On it went. He unloaded all the gold he had managed to swipe in his time at the palace. There was so much piled upon the table when he finished, Zain wondered how the small boy had held it all. He supposed any worries about money during their journey could be forgotten.

The prince’s eyes were wide, his face pale. “Is that my pocket watch?”

Ren grinned. “Fantastic quality, I must say. You have good taste.”

Kai cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the revelation of Ren’s talents. “Anyone else?”

“If I had an ax, I could kill you all,” Rieka said, her arms crossed over her chest.

Zain doubted that, but he remained silent. The prince, though, paled further. Zain wondered briefly just what the sheltered boy was thinking, surrounded by criminals.

“What about you?” the prince said to the Ghost. The question was stiff and forced.

The woman’s arm was wrapped tightly around her younger sister. With the anger twisting the girl’s features, Zain suspected it wasn’t a touch of comfort but of warning. “I am—was—a courtesan,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. Zain noticed Kai’s eyes linger on her face just as any normal man’s would.

“A respectable profession indeed,” Rieka muttered.

“Shut up—” the young girl spat, but the Ghost cut her off.

“I will not apologize for who I am. Nor will I make excuses. The prince asked me a question, and I answered it.”

“And you?” The prince turned to Zain.

“I’m a blacksmith’s apprentice.”

Both Kai and the prince seemed to sag in relief at the common—and legal—profession. The Ghost, on the other hand, furrowed her brows.

“And how about you?” Ren asked the woman’s sister, lowering his head to be eye level with her. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Shadya, and you can stop treating me like a child,” the girl spat. Unlike her sister’s Bahajadi accent, she spoke fluently, her accent wholly Arlanian.

“So far, I think Shadya is the only one I like out of this bunch,” Rieka commented, taking another bite of stew.

“I don’t like you.”

“Shadya,” the Ghost hushed.

“What? I don’t. She’s rude.”

“What you said was rude, too," the Ghost scolded.

Shadya crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, sliding down in her chair.

The prince tentatively cleared his throat in an attempt to gain the attention. “Does anyone know about the Sword of Strength and how it is guarded?” His eyes flitted to Rieka—likely the only one with that knowledge.

Indeed, she used her spoon to gesticulate as she spoke. “It’s in the Zvezny Pyk. Star-touched peak, in your god-awful tongue. It’s the tallest mountain in the Kiertsk range. First, you’ll have to hike through the steep slopes. If you even get to Zvezny Pyk, you have to venture into the mountain where the Sword is rumored to be hidden.”

“How can you go inside a mountain?” Kai asked.

Rieka gave him a look that clearly labeled him dull. Zain watched, half amused, half annoyed as she said, “There’s this magical thing called a cave. It’s this underground chamber carved through rock and earth. You may have never heard of it.”

Kai’s square jaw tightened at the condescension in her tone. “I know what a cave is.”

“Oh, good. I was worried I was surrounded by complete idiots.”

“Is there anything protecting the Sword?” the prince asked, his eyes wide with interest.

“It is rumored to be protected by a dragon.”

Silence. Then, “Dragons aren’t real.”

Rieka turned to Ren who had uttered the words. “Who told you that bullshit?”

“It’s just known. They are a myth.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen a dragon with my own eyes, dimwit. They’re real.”

Nobody argued, but doubt hung in the air. Zain didn’t question their existence. He had seen magic beyond what logic could explain. It was only natural for dragons to defy the laws of science just as magic did.

“Do you know the layout of the cave?” the prince asked after several beats of tense silence.

Rieka gave him a look. “I’m a Styrkish girl living in Arlan. Do you think I would be entrusted with the exact location of the Sword of Strength?”

The prince’s cheeks reddened, and Kai said, “It was a yes or no question.”

“It was a stupid question,” she amended.

“This is going to be a fun few months,” Ren said, lounging in his chair, his hands propped behind his head.

By the looks he received, it was obvious how everyone felt regarding that statement.

…

Zain was assigned to share the tavern room with the thief, and before he settled on one of the two beds, he took great precautions in recounting everything he carried—which other than his knives and whetting stone, wasn't much. He didn’t bother removing his wide array of weapons and ignored the way they dug into his sides and legs when he spread along the cushions.

The immaturity of his companions was apparent, and he wasn’t sure whether or not they could manage to complete any tasks ahead, especially if they never learned to overcome any adversity between one another. Zain wasn’t in the business of making friends, and he didn’t expect them to be, either. He only expected some level of professionalism. If it came down to it, he would attempt at taking care of the tasks alone, though success would be improbable.

For now, he would sit back and observe, gaining anything of use.

After he heard the tell-tale sounds of Ren’s deep snores, Zain sat up in the bed, unsheathed his knives, and began sharpening each one carefully and precisely. Keeping his weapons hidden served in his favor, allowing him to be an outlet for trust. As soon as he revealed them, everything would be questioned. Zain did well to avoid such questions.

Zain placed one blade beside his thigh and began sharpening another, the whetting stone gliding over the surface. The dagger was his favorite out of the array of weapons he kept, being the only one that had originally belonged to him. Crafted by Bahajadi hands, the blade was a blend of iron and steel, curved in one swoop and coming to a sharp point. It was the size of his forearm and the unadorned hilt fit perfectly in his palm. At the very base of the blade were carved Bahajadi characters.

A gift to Death will grant His mercy

Zain paused in his work and rubbed his thumb gently over the words. Words he had lived by since he was a child. The world was cruel, and one could never live unless they joined it.

He set aside the blade and began to sharpen another, contemplating his course of action.

He could finish the Ghost in the Kiertsk mountains, her body left to be covered by snow, forever forgotten among the endless peaks. It would be easy to blame on a stumble. She fell off the steep slopes to her death. He could lure her from the group late in the night. Gain her trust, then kill her.

Zain finished sharpening his knives and sheathed them once more. He stared out the small window looking over the dark farm hills surrounding the town.

He tried to ignore the fact that the woman’s sister, Shadya, was accompanying them. Whether or not the girl had to witness her sister’s death, it would be devastating nonetheless. Zain knew that pain better than most.

It wasn’t common for Zain to wonder about the consequences of his actions. But then again, it also wasn’t common for him to meet the family of his victims.

The girl would heal with time. She would learn to move on from her sister’s death, and she would continue in her life.

But where would she go? Zain couldn’t help but wonder. As young as she was, she likely had no one but the courtesan.

Zain shook his head. Now he was getting sentimental.

Kill the girl, collect the money, and he was free. That was all that mattered.