Four Daggers - Chapter 2

~Chapter 2~

  Reynold was still subdued, clearly nervous around Lina.  It was a stark contrast to the man's colorful finery and his earlier flippant attitude.  Case noticed the spellblade wore a rapier at his side rather than something more easily concealed like a dirk or stiletto.  Longer but narrower, the rapier was better employed in dueling; it was flexible but light, capable of devastating slashes and stabs in riposte.  Fights that thieves found themselves in were rarely so refined and well mannered .  Case privately wondered if it reminded Reynold of using a wand, or if the flamboyant motion of flourishes appealed to him more.

  The staircase below the trapdoor quickly descended into pitch black darkness.  He knew from experience that waiting for his eyes to adjust would not matter: true darkness surrounded them as surely as a blindfold.  At the bottom, he paused and turned to his left, certain his new comrades were doing the same.  The barest sound of rustling betrayed that they were not alone.

  "I greet you Charon," they each spoke, barely a whisper, before holding out two coins.  "To pay for my passage."

  Though too dark to see, they could each feel bony fingers taking the coins from the palm of their hands, Old Charon collecting his toll.  A short moment later, a long thin reed was pressed into each hand.  No more was said.

  The exchange with Charon was another security measure; an aged, blind thief, Charon collected coins and hid the reeds that guided thieves through the dark maze.  He was also quite at home in the darkness and more than capable of shanking a few intruders before escaping within the Labyrinth.

  They set out, each only marginally aware of his fellows, and only by the sound of their reeds dragging along the side.  As always, Case held his eyes closed for a moment, then opened them.  In the darkness, he could see no difference.  Well familiar with the path, Case let his reed drag along the ground, lost in his own musings.

  Case's own blade was a short, straight blade that ended in a chisel point.  It had heft without being heavy, and was practical for all sorts of activities an enterprising scoundrel might find himself engaged in, from opening crates to cutting through chain mail.  Case had found it early in his carrier aboard a merchant trader.  The captain had just come back from parts unknown and had carelessly left the blade out in the open in his cabin while negotiating tariffs with the port master.

  It was no longer on display when the captain returned.  The blade marked Case's first big score; the blade, not quite a short sword, not quite a dagger, was forged from some sort of jet black metal he'd never been able to identify.  The guild appraiser hadn't been able to identify it either, and was less certain as to its value.  Case had decided to keep it  in the end, to his good fortune - the blade never dulled, never chipped, and had served him well over the years.

  The first bump against his stick jolted Case from his reverie.  Instinctively, he reached out to the wall, and felt for the carving.  Empty room.  He turned onto the new path.  Although many of the veterans now knew the safe path down to the footstep, persistent rumors that the safe path changed periodically kept every thief honest.  It was the one place none of them dared to take a shortcut - the Labyrinth was merciless.

  Lizard Rock was surrounded by a dense network of branching caves.  Long ago, the Labyrinth and the Thieves' Way had been created, in part to maintain the Guild's secrecy, and in part to test and train new recruits.  Its many meandering paths were littered with traps, pits, and dead ends.  In the total absence of light, a man could easily get lost within - if a trap didn't kill him first.

  Where the wall met the ground, small bumps had been carved to draw a thief's attention through the reed.  Carved upon the wall was a three dimensional symbol of what the path or room contained - spike filled pits, bear traps, spring-loaded blades, poisoned spears, and so forth - or if the proper path continued within.  The cleverness lay in the manner of carving; even a torch would not reveal its presence.  Each symbol looked the same as any other random bit of cave wall; their meaning and presence was revealed by touch, not sight.

  Not that any thief dared bring light into the Labyrinth.  A strict prohibition forbade bringing light into the maze; rumors abounded of dreadful beasts that would be drawn to the light.  Occasionally, when the apprentices went out to clear and reset traps, lanterns and torches could be found.  No corpses had ever been found alongside them.  It was as clear a warning as any apprentice would receive: a thief who broke the Guild's rules ceased to exist.  A thief lived in the shadow, by his wits and his skill.  A thief who wasn't careful was a reminder to others.  A thief welcomed the embrace of shadows.

  Even more mysterious than the denizens of the maze, however, was Lina.  He'd barely caught a glimpse of her blade earlier; the only detail that stuck in his mind was that it had been dark - so dark that it seemed to swallow the light around it, obscuring the blade in a cloud of darkness.  He hadn't even been able to tell the shape of the blade, not with any degree of certainty or detail, and would have chalked it up to being caught off guard - but then he had caught sight of the wielder.

  She was wearing a light leather jerkin and linens, all dyed black; that much he could tell with certainty.  Over the jerkin, she wore a chain shirt, one made of the same mysterious dark metal as her blade.  It too exhibited the same tendency to absorb rather than reflect light, making it difficult for his eyes to focus on it.  Surrounded by a haze of darkness, it was as if she wore a cloak made of shadows, and his eyes seemed to drift away of their own accord.  Yet, when he focused his whole will on seeing her, there was no trace of darkness, as if his own eyes were remonstrating him, "See? I told you there was nothing to see there."

  There was no telling how long they walked on in that silent darkness.  One lost all sense of time and even direction in true darkness.  The sound of rushing water echoing far beneath told Case that they had reached the chasm, and so were near Lizard Rock.  A faint scent of salt water in the air confirmed it.  Originally no more than a smuggler's cove, Lizard Rock soon grew, expanding into a network of caves to provide sanctuary for rogues, thieves, pirates, and right scoundrels of all kinds.  Now it was a fortified town in its own right, with proper docks, and the central base of operations for the Thieves' Guild.

  However, there were no lizards at all for miles, nor any lizard-like rock, both along the coast and within the caves.  Spinning tall tales and spreading rumors about the origins of the name was a favorite past time in the taverns and on the docks.  It was a point of prestige if one's creation began to circulate and enjoyed popularity.

  There was, however, a deep underground chasm protecting Lizard Rock from all comers.  It was the final test.  A narrow land bridge crossing a deep chasm in perfect darkness.  The sound of an underground river rushing far below was the only hint of danger.  The reeds told them how narrow the path was, if they were in any danger of stepping off the bridge into the abyss.  It was incumbent on the thief to be prepared.  To control one's fear.  To maintain one's calm if insects buzzed about unexpectedly.  To remain focused on crossing.

  Invariably, a new recruit or apprentice, having survived to this point, gave in to temptation.  While crossing, they wondered how deep in fact the chasm was.  They would stop, retrieve some small object from their pocket, and toss it over the side.  And then they would lose their balance.  Or they would forget which way they were facing and walk off the bridge.  Or they would lose their reed, or they would become startled, caught off guard by a bug or bat.  Neither trinket nor recruit made a sound in the deep darkness; only the dead knew how deep the chasm went, having paid for the knowledge.

  Case wondered if his companions had crossed yet, assumed they must have.  He hadn't bumped into anyone when the wall ended and the open maw of the chasm began.  He began to cross slowly, wary of bumping into another in front of him.  He held the reed against the side of the bridge to keep aware of where he stepped.  Veteran or neophyte, the labyrinth spared no one who was careless.

  On the other side, the path turned sharply to one side and ended abruptly in a wooden door.  Faint light shone from behind its edges.  Beyond it, Case knew, was the final gate to Lizard Rock.  And just before it, a lit corridor with concealed crossbowmen ready to take down blinded intruders.  He stepped through, closing the door behind him, and walked forward as best as he could manage with hands up and squinting tightly against the sudden light.

  And then he was past, blinking madly beside a Reynold shaped (and colored) blur and a Lina-like shadow.