Chaos Storm E-Book

C.M. Gray

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The crystal skulls have been united in Sterling Temple to complete the great spell.

The flow of the seasons has returned, bringing back a life of peace and plenty. This doesn't sit well with Matheus Hawk, who is busy plotting the Realm's destruction, fanning the burning coals of his hatred for the crew of The Griffin.

An approaching storm threatens the Realm. In the north, the warrior Queen Morgasta prepares her barbarians for invasion, and across The Great Expanse marches an even greater threat: the Soul Eaters.

And with them, the Chaos Storm.

Leseprobe

Chaos Storm

The Flight of the Griffin - One Year Later

C.M. Gray

Copyright (C) 2015 C.M. Gray

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.adipixdesign.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Prologue

For more than one year, the faithful had been making the pilgrimage to the coastal city of Sterling Port. Leaving their homes and villages as the incredible stories reached them; they walked for days or often weeks, traveling from the furthest corners of the Realm. Flocking in their thousands, they filled the Inns and taverns to bursting and helped to line the pockets of every merchant in the city. They had travelled far and endured hardship just so that they could pay homage and see the truth of the miracle that had taken place in the Source Temple on the hill that overlooked the city of Sterling Port.

When at last they reached the end of their journey, climbed the hill and entered the temple's cool environs, these pilgrims stood and stared in awe at the three glowing skulls that one year ago had quite miraculously appeared upon the altar.

'Brought as a gift from the Source itself,' or so the priest assured the listening crowds. 'Delivered by a group of warrior angels who had fought with the demon lord of Chaos himself as the skulls had been set in place' - the priest, delighted at the temple's growing prominence, claimed to have witnessed the whole thing.

The warm summer months passed, followed by the most glorious of autumns and an abundant harvest for all regions of the Realm. Now, however, the weather was changing once again. The steady lines of patiently waiting pilgrims dwindled daily as the cold of winter placed its first frosty grip on the Kingdom for many years. At least, reasoned the priest, some degree of normality was able to return to the temple and services could be held without the constant interruption from bands of faithful travellers arriving, each one eager for a glimpse of the miracle.

Those pilgrims that did still make it to the altar in Sterling Temple prayed to the Source for their friends and families as all had done before, but now they could also be heard praying for their Kingdom as it once again made ready for war.

Far to the North, the Realm's traditional enemy were massing once again; the Barbarian hordes led by the Warrior Queen, Morgasta. And if the Barbarians were not enough, the winter winds were bringing rumours of a new enemy threatening the Realm from across 'The Great Expanse,' the sea of sand to the West of the Kingdom. The future was an uncertain one and pilgrims would often remark that only time and true faith would tell. However, it was a time and faith that would be tested far sooner than most were want to believe, for when the first act of that testing did arrive, it came late on the eve of the winter solstice, on a particularly unwelcoming night.

The priest was tired after another busy day of serving the Source, and as he left that evening, turning the key in the temple door, his hands were stiff and numb from the cold. Replacing the key in his robes, he shuffled out, his mind already on other much warmer distractions. After a quick blessing to the two guards stationed outside the main door, he pulled his cloak about him and hurried off into the rainy night to find his fire, a late supper, and possibly a glass or two of warm spiced wine.

The guards stamped their feet and watched the skinny cleric leave. It was too cold and wet to stand outside, so with a quick glance around to check if they were being observed they headed into the small wooden guardroom in order to play a game of old jack bones and drink something warming around their own small fire.

Unbeknownst to the careless guards or tired priest, it just so happened that on this particular inhospitable night, two thieves were approaching the temple, heads bowed and backs hunched against the wind and rain. They held little fear for the guards, in fact, the taller of the two appeared somewhat disappointed to find the doorway abandoned. He cast a craving look towards the guardroom, and then at his companion, who simply shook his head.

'Just open the door and let's get this done,' grumbled the shorter figure. 'I'm freezing me damn bits off standing out here while yeh look fer trouble.' He pushed his companion towards the door but then hastily held his hands up in apology as the taller man swung violently towards him. 'Please… let's just get this done. Then you can play with them… after. Me word on it… all right?'

The tall man regarded him, the red glow from his eyes casting their own dim light within the hood of his cloak. 'Just be careful I don't start playing with you… or freezing your bits off will sound like a gift from the Source itself.' The small black demon perching upon his shoulder bared its teeth and hissed its own warning. Turning back to the door, the tall thief held a claw-like hand over the lock mechanism and it glowed blood red before the bolt slid back with a loud clunk that echoed back throughout the temple. Hinges creaking, the door swung open releasing a waft of incense and devotion out into the cold, wet night.

Watching his stout accomplice waddle past, his heavy footfalls echoing in the darkness, he vowed for the umpteenth time that he would kill him soon and go on with their plans alone. He stepped forward, heedless of the temple carvings and pious majesty that was normally the first thing to capture the attention of the devout, and felt his irritation melt away as his gaze was drawn towards the far end of the temple and the three miraculous skulls with their soft blue glow bathing the altar.

The sound of lumbering footfalls stopped and the tall thief watched as, without any thought to the consequences, the pudgy hands of Bartholomew Bask reached up onto the altar and lifted the closest of the skulls from its place, pulling it closely to his chest. The skull briefly illuminated the merchant's grinning face before its blue light slowly ebbed, the magic broken as it became separated from its fellows. Quickly placing two of the skulls in a sack, Bartholomew held out the third towards Matheus Hawk, his smile of triumph slowly fading.

The hunter, feeling strangely cautious, took it tentatively. It felt cold and foreign, and he fought the urge to turn away and vomit. He quickly passed the skull back.

'Hey! What do you think you're doing there? Hold still…' the guards, finally deciding to look out of their cosy guardroom had found the temple doors open. Hastily buckled armour clashed and banged as they loped down the aisle, clumsily drawing their swords as they came. The tall hunter slowly turned towards them, an awful grin on his face as he raised his arms to either side, palms up and fingers curling. Red lightning crackled from his fingertips as his hands turned towards the guards and then struck out to hit each in mid stride with a sickly punch that knocked them from their feet and drove the air from their bodies. Yet they did not fall to the floor. Backs arching, they writhed in agony and rose into the air, screaming out in pain as their swords fell to the tiles with a clatter, the crackling energy lifting them up towards the painted ceiling high above.

By the time they reached the apex of their journey, they were dead, their spirits already departed as their lifeless bodies were finally released, falling with two dull thuds to the stone flagging of the temple floor.

A colossal clap of thunder broke the deathly silence that followed. It was accompanied by a brilliant flash of flickering lightning that revealed the broken bodies of the guards, their sightless eyes staring in accusation towards the two thieves.

Bartholomew hugged the skulls to him and looked aghast at the Hawk. 'Do you still have the dreams?' His voice was little more than a hushed whisper as the tall hunter held out his hands to reclaim the third skull.

'The dreams? Yes, I still have the dreams… they never leave me, they are my constant companions… along with Nhasic here.' He reached up and pulled spitefully on the little demon's ear making it hiss. 'The Griffin and its young crew will suffer Mr. Bask. I care little for their… talents. I have studied much and learnt well these past months. I am now truly Matheus Hawk, The Hunter. My powers have gone far beyond anything I had ever thought to be possible. Yes, I still have my nightmares Mr. Bask, but I also have my dreams, dreams of revenge, revenge and a chance to bring a little closer a time of suffering for the crew of The Griffin.'

The two thieves made their way out of the temple and down through the city towards the ship anchored in the harbour. The tall thief marched ahead as his shorter round companion tried to keep up, hampered by the large sack that swung from side to side over his somewhat ample shoulders. Behind them, the temple stood cold and alone - rain blew in through its open doors, while the interior, empty and bereft of its spirit once more, started to get even colder.

The door was left banging on its hinges as the storm intensified, becoming far worse than anything predicted by the locals in Sterling Port's many taverns. For now was the start of a new storm, a chaos storm.

* * *

Chapter 1 A Rose of Gold

'That… has to be one of the nastiest things I've ever seen. Why do they leave them hanging up there?' Pardigan swatted one of the many fat flies away that were buzzing around the three slowly swinging corpses, hanging by their necks outside the city gates. The three were in an advanced state of decay with tongues distended and their flesh already starting to break apart - the air was ripe with their stench.

'Well the signs around their necks say they were thieves, Pardigan, so you'd better take note, it's what most people would call a warning. You'd best keep your hands in your pockets while we're here if that's at all possible.' Covering his nose and mouth with the edge of his cloak, Quint looked at Pardigan and sighed, hoping it wasn't a mistake coming to the Royal city. If there was trouble going on here, then Pardigan was bound to find it.

'Bit tough, hanging someone just for being a thief, isn't it?' Pardigan continued, somewhat appalled.

'Maybe,' Quint replied with a smile, 'but then, it does make a pretty good warning, eh?' They moved on past the hideously grinning figures as the large crowd that was attempting to enter the city shuffled slowly across the drawbridge and through the gates into the ancient city of Deniah.

There was no particular reason to be here, no special reason to be anywhere really. They had done all the fishing they could handle for a while, spent time back at the moorings, and then more time cleaning and provisioning The Griffin. They still had a good portion of the coin that Pardigan had stolen from Merchant Bask in Freya, and were planning to make a trading voyage out to Minster at some point soon, but it wasn't really the time. Mahra had gone visiting friends in the south, and when the others were discussing what to do, they'd discovered that none of them had ever been to Deniah before, the capital city of the Realm, so a visit had seemed like a good idea.

Royal Deniah, to give it its full title, was a huge and ancient city. The oldest part was crowded within massive protective walls complete with battlements and tall towers that loomed above everything. The first sight to draw a traveller's eye, cresting the surrounding hills were the massive city defences and the many coloured pennants flying proudly from its towers, it was a famous sight and one that all traveller's eagerly anticipated.

There were actually two cities of Deniah. Within the walls was the 'old' city, with the Royal palace taking up nearly a quarter of the total area while the remainder was given over to a maze of winding streets and neighbourhoods where the so-called 'better citizens' lived and conducted their business, and then outside the walls was the new city, which had built up over the last few hundred years as the population expanded, and now housed almost twice as many people as lived within the walls. Dividing the two parts of the city was an ancient, foul smelling moat with four drawbridges where guards monitored who was entering and leaving.

The sight of the thieves hanging by the gate had only slightly dampened the crew's excitement as they crossed the gloomy moat. When they entered the old city, it was with a sense of excitement and anticipation as the general hustle and bustle and dark narrow streets drew them in and swallowed them up.

'It stinks,' moaned Pardigan clamping his hand over his nose.

'You'll get used to it luv,' said an old lady suppressing a toothless cackle. She was sitting on the ground just inside the city gate selling small bunches of flowers. She was peering up at Pardigan, hopefully. 'Like to buy some posies to hold under yer nose dear? It'll take the nasty smell away. Would yeh dear… would yeh?' She held out a small bunch of tired looking yellow flowers and continued to offer Pardigan a toothless, but hopeful smile.

'Eermm… no thank you,' said Pardigan trying to move on, but to his frustration, the crowd had come to a momentary halt.

'Yes, that's what they're all saying today, but you go on dear, don't you mind me. Just you leave old Norah to die here without a copper to her name… might have to start eating the flowers soon,' she muttered gloomily.

With a sigh of exasperation, Pardigan dropped a copper penny into her lap and snatched up the flowers.

'The Source bless you young man,' she cried, cackling dryly as she examined the coin. 'May your visit to our Royal Deniah bring you luck and love.'

'Well that's a good start, Pardigan,' said Loras with a grin. 'You always need all the luck you can get. Nice flowers, by the way, are you going to put them in a vase until you find your love?' Pardigan threw them at his laughing friend and they missed, hitting a large, well-dressed lady in the face. She squealed in shock, and the four boys pushed past through the crowd and ran laughing into the city.

On hearing of their planned trip, Mahra had told them about an Inn she knew called The Owl, close to the Lion's gate, the gate through which they had just entered the city. She had explained that an old friend of hers named Parish ran the Inn and promised that he would treat them honestly and may be of help if they encountered any problems. The Owl wasn't the biggest, and probably wasn't the best Inn in Deniah, but Mahra had assured them that the city's best pies were made in their kitchen, and it was actually named The Owl after her. When they'd questioned her on this, she'd blushed and said it was a story that would have to wait for another time.

The Owl was easy to find, and Parish, when they made their introductions, did indeed prove to be welcoming. He was obviously disappointed that Mahra wasn't with them, but was happy to offer them a large room on the top floor overlooking the teeming street below. It was quite basic, with four beds, a table and just two chairs, but it was clean and Parish assured them that the lock on the door was good and solid. Loras would be placing a guard spell on their valuables, so the lock didn't actually worry them, but it was good to know that Parish was concerned about his guests' security.

Once settled, they decided to split up with Loras and Tarent opting to visit the clerics' quarter with its famous bookshops and museums while Pardigan and Quint opted to explore and just see where their feet took them.

'Pardigan, be guided by the Source,' advised Tarent, 'and don't go buying any books. The last book you got hold of meant we had to become angels of the Source!' Pardigan responded by hooting and flapping his arms while running round the room pretending to be an angel, much to Loras's delight.

It was with a mixture of pride and disbelief that the crew had listened to stories and rumours of how the skulls had arrived and become a legend in such a short space of time. They'd eventually returned to the temple and listened, giggling at the back of a crowd while the priest told how he'd witnessed a band of warrior angels, fighting the Lord of Chaos and his army as the angels had placed the skulls, a gift to the people, upon the altar.

Loras had conjured a golden misty halo over the priest's head, which he'd then dropped with a plop as the crowd had all gasped. Tarent had given Loras a lecture about respecting his talents, but Pardigan had heartily approved.

'You should have turned it into a halo of horse shit and dropped that on his head,' he'd crowed while Tarent had despaired at the irreverence of his two friends.

Royal Deniah was a marvellous place despite the recent spate of rainy weather, and Quint and Pardigan were soon lost in its dark, twisting streets and tiny damp squares as they tried to make some sense of the place. They knew there were four gates into the walled city leading into different districts. The Lion's gate where they'd first entered, then Dragon's gate, King's gate and finally The Gate of Sorrows, which was by the infirmary in the poor quarter. The Royal palace was accessible from outside the city by the Kings gate, or by two entrances within the city. After meandering for some time, Pardigan and Quint joined a crowd clustered by one of the city entrances to the palace. The crowd was held back behind a rope, with everyone trying to peer past the guards and sneak a look inside.

'This is boring,' said Pardigan as he glimpsed red carpet through the doorway that a uniformed servant had just pushed open. 'I can't see anything!'

'So what did you expect? To see the King popping his head around the door and waving at you,' said Quint, laughing.

There was a lot of activity around the gate with people coming and going all the time, the guards at the door carefully checking the credentials of anyone attempting to gain admittance. Appointments were confirmed in a large register while anyone unexpected was forced to wait as a runner was sent inside to obtain the necessary permission.

'Come on,' muttered Quint, 'you're right this is boring. We're not going to see much, not with all this talk of war around here. Parish told me that this time last year, there were tours to look around parts of the palace, but they've stopped now. They think just about anyone could be a spy or even Queen Morgasta herself dressed up in disguise, hardly anyone's getting in.'

'Bet I could get in,' murmured Pardigan. Thunder rumbled, and the first drops of rain started to break up the crowd.

'Don't you even think about it, Pardigan,' said Quint, angrily pulling on Pardigan's sleeve. 'Come on, let's find something to eat, I'm famished.'

They set off down one of the busier streets making sure to keep to the side to stay as dry as possible. It wasn't long before they found a brew shop and were sitting inside drinking from steaming mugs and sharing a plate of sweet cakes. Staring out of the window, they watched the world and his wife traipse by in the thin drizzle, heads bowed, impatient to be on their way. It was cosy in the brew shop, it smelt of brew and bread and pastries. The muted sounds of conversation from other customers drifting around them, they were in no hurry to move on.

'That's the second time someone's mentioned the guild of thieves and something called the golden rose,' said Quint. 'It's hard to believe there are any thieves left when they hang them up by the gates like those we saw on the way in.'

'Thieves take some scaring,' said Pardigan as he scanned the tables around them. 'The hangings would just make them more cautious. I wonder what it's really all about.' He turned to the man at the next table who moments before had been talking about the golden rose to his companion, an older woman hugging a tattered shawl about her thin shoulders.

'Excuse me… I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell us what's with all the talk about a golden rose? We've been hearing it everywhere since we first got here.' The man swung towards him, a sour expression on his face. He said nothing, then picked up his cup of brew and drank the last down. Standing up, he glared down at Pardigan, weighing him carefully.

'Well firstly, youngster, dint your mummy ever tell yer it's not nice ter be listening to folks having a private conversation? But… there…' he leaned over, pulled a parchment from the wall, and dropped it on the table in front of Pardigan. 'You'll find these all over the city.' With a nod to the old woman, he strode out, slamming the door behind him. The woman sighed and leaned across, putting a bony hand on Quint's sleeve.

'Fraid Jeb's a bit low. That's his brother swinging out by Lion's gate, and all because of that Source cursed rose.' She hawked and spat noisily on the floor, ignoring the exclamations of disgust from a couple at the next table. 'King's way of cleaning the city of thieves is all it is, and they're all so stupid, or so proud that they fall for it. The guild, Source rot em, is even offering its own reward.'

Pardigan turned the parchment around so he could read it. A black, penned picture of a rose was at the top and below that was a flowing script in low speak -

To the thieves and guild of our Royal Deniah. I, your King, hereby set you a challenge. I have placed a rose of the purest gold, -valued at more than 100 sovereigns in weight alone- Somewhere in clear sight, in the western tower of the palace.

Should any of you successfully remove the rose from the palace, not only will you keep it, but I shall allow 10 of my guests - currently residing in the dungeons - to go free. However, be aware: Any who are caught shall be hung by the neck in sight of one of the four gates of our fair city.

King Hugo Payne

'That's madness,' said Quint, reading over Pardigan's shoulder. 'Why would anyone try and break into the palace? It's such an obvious set up!' He looked at Pardigan then the old woman, who shrugged.

'For the first few weeks that those parchments were being placed over the city, that was what everyone was saying. Who would be stupid enough or desperate enough to break into the palace?' The old woman scratched her head noisily. 'But then the hangings started. Thieves were trying to get the rose, either because they had friends or family in the King's dungeon that they wanted to get free, or out of some wish to prove their ability as thieves.'

'I still can't believe the thieves chance it, or that the guild lets them,' said Quint frowning.

'The guild! Why the guild has only been fanning the flames by offering an additional reward on top of the King's offer, in exchange for them being able to name five of the people to be freed of course. They caught Jeb's brother a few weeks ago. Apparently, he'd got as far as seeing the rose, least that's what he shouted before he was hung. He tried to tell more, but they didn't let him, strung him up real quick they did.'

'They must be used to getting in the palace,' mused Pardigan. 'Otherwise none would try it.'

'Oh yes dear, the thieves made a good living until recently, both in the merchants' houses and in parts of the palace, as well. Probably what peeved King Hugo. With most of his troops moved up to the war fronts, there's not so many guards see, the thieves have been all over it for weeks.'

'And now?' asked Pardigan.

'Thing is, no one really knows. Those that do are hung.' She got up shaking her head. 'Look, you boys don't need worry about that old rose, just enjoy our lovely Deniah.' She shuffled out into the rain, hugging her thin shawl tightly about her.

'No we won't worry about that rose at all, will we, Pardigan… Pardigan?'

'What? No… don't worry I'm not going to get myself hung, Quint. I'm brave, but not stupid.' He grinned at his friend and they stood and made their way out into the street.

'Course none of the other thieves can place-shift or go invisible can they,' mumbled Pardigan thoughtfully as he pulled his cape around him.

When they all met up back at The Owl that evening, there was a lot to talk about. Sitting around a large table in the busy drinking room, close to the crackling fire, they drank warm apple juice and munched on hot pies. When Tarent heard about the golden rose and read the parchment, he sighed. Putting down his glass, he looked at Pardigan, screwed the King's proclamation into a ball, and threw it into the fire.

'Pardigan… don't do it.'

'Do what?' asked Pardigan offering Tarent a look of innocent bewilderment. 'Do you really think I'm daft enough to risk my neck trying to get that dumb rose?'

'Yes, Pardigan, unfortunately I do,' said Tarent. 'And if you do try, you'll get caught, and we aren't going to be able to help you, not here, not in the palace, so just don't do it, all right.'

Quint placed a hand on Tarent's shoulder. 'He's not going to, don't worry.'

Tarent shook his head. 'Of course he will. Think who we're talking about.' He locked eyes with Pardigan. 'Just don't… prove me wrong, if you can.' Pardigan glared back without answering.

'Well, we had a great afternoon,' smiled Loras breaking the tension. 'We found some wonderful bookshops. I got An Examination of Magics and, An Encyclopaedia ofTransfiguration.' The one on transfiguration is something I've wanted to look into for ages.

'Trans-finger what?' asked Pardigan with a frown.

'Transfiguration, it's the magic of changing shape… like Mahra. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to change into a panther or something! Can you imagine?' He grinned around happily at his friends.

Pardigan shook his head. 'I think we need to talk to Parish, Loras is going to need his own room, or he's going to end up transfingerizing one of us into a worm or something!'

Quint smiled and turned to Tarent. 'And you?' What did you find?' Tarent leaned under the table and brought up a huge book wrapped in sacking and thumped it onto the table.

'Oh, I found two things. I found this book, Prayers and rituals to the Source, which I'm hoping will explain more of what I'm meant to be doing as a warrior priest. And I also found something else today. He leaned forward, careful to keep his voice low, 'I also found out that the skulls have been stolen from Sterling Temple.'

* * *

Chapter 2 Patterns in the Rain

'For the love of the Source man, will yeh keep still. I've enough trouble on me plate dealing with this damnable ship without watching you pacing up and down, glaring at everyone and everything all the time.' Bartholomew scuttled back as the Hawk spun around and scowled at him.

'Hush yeh prattle, Mr. Bask, just you concentrate on taking us north. I'm as eager as you to finish our negotiations and move on. Thankfully, our partnership will soon end, so if you wish to stay alive until that end, just you deal with your boat and leave me to my thoughts and my pacing.' He spun on his heels, black cloak billowing and strode to the side of the ship where he stood staring out through sheeting rain at the turbulent horizon. The little black demon scuttled from his shoulder and up into the rigging, careful not to stray too far from the hunter. The Hawk frowned at it.

'Don't wander off, Nhasic, you know what will happen if you do.' The demon moved down a little closer to the Hawk, and then with obvious reluctance leapt back onto his shoulder, hissing and chattering its teeth. 'I know you hate me Nhasic, but I really don't care.' He reached up and patted the little demon on the head, then flicked its ear with his finger making a leathery thwack. The demon hissed angrily shaking its head, which only served to bring a rare smile to the hunter's face. 'Life's tough in the realm of man isn't it, my little friend eh?'

The Esmerelda sailed on, passing the great northern mountains of the Massif range and the treacherous reefs that guarded them, and on towards the land of the Warrior Queen, Morgasta.

The weather this far north, was foul at any time of year but now, as winter closed in, the seas were colossal, driven by hurricane force winds that battered the great ship incessantly, straining both boat and crew to their limits. As the ship rose to breach each great wave, those on deck were exposed to the constant misery of wind-driven, icy rain and sleet that numbed any skin left bare and made rags of coats and clothing. Once the ship had broken through the top of each colossal wave, it would abruptly drop away sending the ship surging down into the depths in an explosion of spray that washed across the decks seeking to claim anything and anyone for the sirens of the deep.

Bartholomew Bask, now reluctantly captaining his own vessel after the previous holder of the position had deserted was making up for his lack of nautical knowledge by being as hard as the weather. The merchant was exhibiting qualities of stamina and command previously undiscovered, pushing his crew on into the very teeth of each new storm.

The skulls had cost him plenty, but now they would make him rich for they were the key to the Kingdom and the Barbarian Queen's agents had promised she would pay handsomely for their safe delivery. Bartholomew held no allegiance to King Hugo Payne and the Kingdom; his only allegiance was to himself and to a profit, a profit that so far he considered long overdue on these skulls. He stared at the Hawk who was standing oblivious to the elements, the little black demon holding onto his shoulder trying to stay balanced as the ship and the weather sought to claim it.

Soon we shall part, Mr. 'awk, and good riddance it shall be, thought Bartholomew. I don't like a man so cold that money cannot warm his heart. He was well aware that the Hawk wasn't doing this out of any thought of riches; power and revenge were all that drove that evil soul. Since he'd returned from his journey across the Great Expanse, the man was changed, changed into something altogether more evil and powerful, and Bartholomew was eager to see the last of him. He shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold.

'Soon be rid of him and his nasty demon, then I can get back to me own life instead of sailing to his beck and call' he muttered, the wind stealing the words from his mouth. He spat downwind then glanced up at the sheets of straining canvas driving the ship on.

'Sail… Sail ahead, sail ahead!' the cry came down from the crows-nest, and Bartholomew scrambled to find his telescope.

Staggering over to the side of the rolling ship, he joined the Hawk who was already scanning the waves with his own telescope, searching for sign of the sail on the horizon.

It wasn't easy to keep focused as The Esmerelda rose and fell, salty spray soon clouded the lens, but Bartholomew could just make out the sail in the distance as they rose to the peak of each new wave.

'It's a ship of the Queen,' rasped the Hawk still peering through his telescope. 'Let's hope they received your message, Mr. Bask, or we may have to defend ourselves.' He smiled down at Bartholomew. 'We may have to send the Queen's ship to a watery grave. Now that wouldn't do much for our cause, would it?' Bartholomew closed his telescope with a snap and glared at the Hawk saying nothing. It would be just like this fool to sink the Queen's ship and ruin any chance of a profit. He would just see it as some kind of fine entertainment to send it to the bottom of the sea with its crew still aboard and little chance of finding favour with the Queen. Bartholomew turned and shouted at the helmsman who was fighting to keep the wheel from spinning out of control.

'Bring us two points into the wind and keep her steady… run up our colours so she can identify us.' The sailor responded with a nod and The Esmerelda slowly turned to meet the Barbarian Queen's ship.

* * *

Pardigan, for his part, felt both Quint and Tarent were overly concerned about the golden rose and the effect the challenge might be having on him. He was almost sure he had allayed their suspicions concerning his interest, and after a few days they'd at least stopped talking about leaving Deniah.

'What possible reason could I have for trying to take the rose? I don't know anyone in the dungeons, and we don't need the reward the guild is posting,' he'd argued. 'I would also like to point out that I'm very attached to my neck and don't really like the idea of having it stretched, so stop treating me as if I'm stupid.' Even so, Quint or Tarent had always found some reason to be with him whenever he'd attempted to go out alone.

It was, therefore, late one night when the opportunity finally presented itself. He had been lying awake for ages listening to the sound of the rain drumming on the window and splashing down on the street outside. The snores and snuffles of his friends finally convinced him that they were all asleep, and he decided it was time to make his move, just to take a look. He smiled at the thought of all the gossip it would cause to take the rose, and the questioning looks he would get from the others.

I'll just smile and say nothing and let them decide if it really was me. There isn't any need to steal the rose, I'll just move it; put it on the King's pillow or something. That'll show them the King of thieves is about, but nobody will know who it is… except me. He grinned as he crept out of the room, made his way carefully down the creaking stairs and, leaving the Inn, set off into the rain.

Parish, the landlord at The Owl, had been a whole mine of information, about both the palace and the challenge of the golden rose.

'Word is that it's displayed in the library. That's about half way up the western tower. How any fool thief could think to get up there without being seen is beyond me, but try they do and get caught and hung they do as well, a nasty business it all is and that's a fact.'

On various walks past the palace, Pardigan had already worked out which was the west tower, and been listening eagerly whenever anyone had talked about the rose or the palace. Others in The Owl's drinking room had spoken of the problems the King was having with the war, how it was both a drain on the Royal treasury and the household guards. What nobody could tell Pardigan was what, or who was guarding the rose and making it so difficult to steal.

Having learned all he could about the palace from the drinkers at The Owl, Pardigan had decided a nocturnal investigation of the palace's defences was called for. He had convinced himself that tonight was just a scouting mission, if he then decided to go after the rose, then he would leave that for another night, tonight he merely needed information.

The stories he'd heard told that several other thieves had tried posing as deliverymen, or had feigned an appointment with an official in order to get past the guards on the gate. Others had climbed the wall at a point that they'd thought was unobserved, but all had been caught and hung.

Skirting the puddles and keeping to the shadows, he moved cautiously towards the palace, thanking the Source that, at this late hour, the streets were mostly empty. Whenever the sound of voices or footsteps did sound from ahead, he simply muttered 'Hide,' and became invisible.

The invisibility spell was becoming much easier to hold. Even when walking he could hold it for about thirty beats of the heart. If he was standing still, then he could almost hold it for as long as he wanted.

Blinking back to visibility, he shivered and waited while three members of the city watch disappeared around a corner, the heavy, echoing footfalls of their boots splashing in puddles fading into the night. Pardigan smiled, they hadn't a clue that they'd passed so close to him. He looked up through the rain at the palace and walked around towards the western tower as thunder rumbled in the distance threatening an even heavier downpour to come.

Almost opposite the tower was an Inn, The Blind Beggar. It was an old building in a bad state of repair, its worn sign creaking as it swayed in the wind still showing a faded likeness of a crouching beggar, hand outstretched and a cloth binding his eyes. Water was cascading down to the street from a broken gutter, the splashing noise covering almost all sounds of conversation that filtered through the thin, cracked glass from inside. Several strained notes came from an accordion, and someone was trying hard to sing, a woman's voice cackled with laughter as she tried to hush him.

'Ya daft ol bugger… buy me a drink an stop yer caterwauling…'

Casting around the deserted street, Pardigan blinked invisible, eased open the door and slipped inside.

He found himself in a darkened hallway just off the main drinking area, which was to his left whilst a wooden staircase, directly in front of him, lead up towards floors above. Pardigan started to climb, taking care to place his weight at the edge of each step to make as little noise as possible. Reaching the top of the stairs, he entered a longer hallway with several doors to either side, which he assumed opened into bedrooms. Light was spilling from under one door about halfway along the passage; the only other light was from a lone candle fluttering feebly in a wall bracket at the far end.

A board squeaked under his boot, Pardigan stopped, carefully holding both the spell and his breath. The muted sounds of the drinkers below may have muffled the sound but…

'That you Sim… Sim?' the voice came from behind the door with the light and Pardigan's heart skipped a beat. Moments went by, and the door remained closed. Softly, easing out his breath, he crept on towards the two last rooms at the end of the corridor, the rooms overlooking the street and the palace beyond. When he had studied the building from the street, it was from these rooms that he hoped he might be able to place-shift into the tower opposite.

Reaching out a hand he cautiously tried each door, but found them both locked. Muttering a silent curse, he became visible so he could concentrate better and dropped to one knee by the first door. Pulling out a piece of stiff leather from the folds of his cloak, he gently forced it between the lock and the doorframe. With his other hand, he worked a curved spike of metal into the lock itself and with all his concentration, patiently felt for the mechanism.

Someone coughed, and he stopped what he was doing and instantly went invisible. He turned around… nobody there… a shiver travelled the length of his spine. It must have been one of the sleepers behind another door. Light flashed beneath the doors and, moments later, thunder rumbled; the storm was getting closer. Despite the chill of the night, a bead of sweat rolled down Pardigan's forehead, and he absently wiped it away. Visible once more, he returned to the lock and gave a sigh when the leather finally obliged, easing further in as the door creaked open. Quickly replacing the tools in his cloak, he slipped into the room and closed the door.

It was dark, but Pardigan could just see that the bed was made-up and some travel bags were on the floor beside the table. Obviously, the occupant was still out, or more likely downstairs getting drunk. He crossed to the window and pulled it open. Damp night air rushed in, blowing the threadbare curtains around like loose sails, he ignored them and gazed across the gloom at the palace and the windows of the western tower, there were several. The rain was really tipping down now, the air filled with a cacophony of noise as it pelted the roofs and street coupled with the wind, which was gusting harder. He could still make out the dark looming shape of the palace through it all. The most promising window was almost level with the one he was on and showed a well-lit room; however, the problem was he was still about fifty spans away, further than he had ever shifted before. He looked up and down the street for alternatives, and saw a warehouse a little further along that appeared to be a little closer and was definitely taller than the Inn. It may give better access to higher rooms in the tower and was worth investigating to compare the two approaches. He started to close the window.

Before he had brought the two windowpanes together, the handle of the door rattled behind him, and there was a thump as someone fell against it. Pardigan turned in time to see two shadowy figures stumble into the room, giggling. It was a woman supporting a large man who appeared to be having some trouble standing. He was laughing as he tried to pull her closer. 'Oh, give us jes one little kiss, won't yeh?'

She laughed and was about to reply when she saw Pardigan standing at the window. She pointed and screamed.

'Aaaahhhh… thief!'

The man looked over and instantly became a lot less drunk. He lunged across the bed and made a grab for Pardigan who moved back.

'Come ere yeh little runt, nobody thieves from me and gets away wiv it!'

Pardigan spun about, put his hands on the wet sill, and searched for the window in the tower. Its light beckoned through the rain and, with no other option and little hesitation, he place-shifted.

* * *

'Wake up!'

Quint awoke; alarmed that he couldn't see anything. He pushed away the hand that was shaking him and rubbed at his eyes. A match scraped in the darkness, and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut again as it flared, 'Aaahh, what's happening?' Holding his hand up as a shield against the flame, he glanced across and saw Tarent busily shaking Loras awake.

'Pardigan's gone… probably after the rose,' muttered Tarent.

Quint sat up and looked over at Pardigan's empty bed. 'Damn!' he searched about for his clothes. 'I can't believe it. He had me convinced he wasn't that dumb.'

'Oh, he's that dumb all right. You didn't have to spend three days in the desert with him, I did, and I know he's that dumb. Come on, we've got to go look for him.'

Treading carefully, so as not to wake anybody in the sleeping Inn, the three friends descended the dark staircase and let themselves out into the night.

The street was deserted. Guttering torches, set outside the Inn, fought a losing battle with the incessant rain to throw light onto the street. It was cold, dark and miserable. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning flashed, illuminating everything.

'What are we doing out here?' whined Loras as he lifted his glasses and rubbed sleep from his eyes. 'We'll never find him in this… and it's the middle of the night!'

Tarent pulled out a piece of oilcloth and held it over them to keep the worst of the rain off and they gathered beneath, the raindrops drumming noisily. 'We have to look for him, Loras, he's…' Tarent looked almost lost for words. 'Well he's Pardigan, one of the crew. We have to go after him.' Loras nodded, and they set off towards the palace, being careful to keep out of the puddles.

* * *

Pardigan swayed as he tried to steady himself. Place-shifting wasn't something you really ever got used to. It was a little like looking through a telescope, and then zooming in at an incredible speed on what you saw. He glanced about trying to get his bearings and saw he was in a long bright room that curved with the shape of the round tower. Several large candelabras held the stubs of candles, about half of which were still alight, and there was a crackling fire sending dancing shadows around the room. There were some tables, comfortable chairs and a few books, but this appeared to be more of a meeting or reception room, it definitely wasn't a library. Thankfully, nobody was meeting right now. Outside the wind beat against the walls as the storm's fury continued to grow, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed rattling the glass in the window frames. Glad he was in a warm dry room, Pardigan looked back out at the Inn and saw that the man and woman were standing at the window holding back the damp curtains. They were peering down at the street below, and the woman was crying, they obviously thought he'd jumped and were searching for his body amongst the puddles.

I'm not that daft, thought Pardigan with a smile. Oh well, seeing as I'm over here I suppose I should have a look around. He walked to the large door, marvelling at the unfamiliar bouncy feel of thick red carpet beneath his feet. He bounced up and down; it was like bedding on the floor. He bound across the room several times, back and forth, with a big grin on his face and then tried the door. It swung in easily, and Pardigan blinked into invisibility as he passed through into an outer corridor.

Considering how quiet the city had been, it was a surprise to Pardigan that so many people were walking the halls of the palace at this late hour. Several uniformed guards hurried past and servants were rushing back and forth on errands. They didn't appear to be looking for him; which was his immediate worry, something else was going on in the palace. All the better for getting the rose, thought Pardigan smiling as he headed towards a staircase.

The floor at the top of the stairs was given over to apartments and offices, he spent time opening doors and peering round corners as people entered and left. By the time he'd reached the level above that, he was searching for somewhere to rest. Holding the invisibility spell this long was tiring, and he was starting to think he was hallucinating when he saw several small figures drift past like wisps of smoke. He'd heard of ghosts of course but didn't really believe they existed outside of stories. Putting it down to the strain of holding the spell and being tired, he moved on.

A servant came up the stairs carrying a large tray of food and with a little difficulty, opened a big heavy door before entering. Following his nose more than any other sense, Pardigan trailed behind searching eagerly for a place to rest as he slipped in before the door closed.

The servant set the tray down beside an old man sleeping slumped in a chair and then, without waking him, walked back out of the room closing the door softly. Pardigan glanced about and sighed with relief as he saw row after row of books. Now this looks more like a library he thought. Being sure to keep behind the old man, he relaxed the spell and became visible.

The room was long and thin, curving with the round shape of the tower like the room he had first entered. The now familiar deep red carpeting covered the floor and Pardigan bent down and ran his hand over it, marvelling at the softness. A fire crackled in the hearth and a few candles flickered, but most of the library was dark and silent. It smelled of old books, parchment and learning, and felt as if the windows had never been allowed to open in case the fresh air cleansed the room of its carefully stored knowledge. Pardigan pushed back his hood and sank down into a chair, thankful for a chance to rest. Fighting the urge to close his eyes for a few moments, he gazed around the room then picked up a book lying on the table next to him, but it was in some language other than low-speak, so he put it back down. Looking around again he saw a cabinet at the far end of the room and placed upon it, was a candelabrum casting a pool of yellow light onto a red velvet pillow. Pardigan got to his feet, excitement rising inside him; it must be the rose! Glancing back to be sure the old man was still asleep, he walked over to see if it really was the fabled rose… and there it was, in all its glory! Incredibly detailed, the slim stem of the rose had two small branches, each holding three delicate leaves while the flower appeared to be caught in the very moment of opening. Pardigan stared at it for a moment, captivated by its beauty.

He resisted the immediate temptation to reach out and pick it up, but instead cast his professional eye over both the rose and the cushion to see if there was some sort of trap… nothing, or at least nothing that he could see. He glanced behind him again and saw the old man was still asleep and the door to the corridor had remained closed. Reaching out, he gently picked up the rose, feeling the weight in his hands as a voice in his mind noted that it was just too easy. Unfortunately, the voice behind him confirmed it only a beat of the heart later.

'Hello my friend, I must say you've done awfully well to get this far.' Pardigan's heart leapt, and he spun around clutching the rose to his chest. The old man was standing there smiling happily as if he were watching his favourite nephew opening a very special birthday present.

He was a little taller than Pardigan, dressed in a long blue robe, and wore round glasses that made his big blue eyes look huge and owlish. He was also plump in a happy, well-fed sort of way and really did appear delighted to find the rose being stolen. A big smile pushed his cheeks out above a fluffy white beard, where they glowed, red, like two freshly polished apples. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a short length of rope that he then held out, allowing it to float freely in mid-air.

'I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to bind your hands and call the guards. I must say it's such a shame that someone so young must hang, but thievery is not an honest business and needs to be punished.' He pushed out the rope as if he really expected Pardigan to comply and be tied up. Pardigan stared back at the beaming face, his confidence returning as fast as it had fled.

'You're a Magician? You have to be to move from the chair to me as fast as you did. I've got a friend who would love to meet you.'

The Magician sighed. 'My name is Silas Falk, and I am, indeed, a Magician, the King's personal Magician as it happens. But I'm afraid your friend will only get a chance to see me while the hangman places a noose around your neck because it will be my unhappy duty to be standing next to you as he does it.'

Pardigan kept up the smile that was threatening to leave. 'Where does the King sleep?'

'What?' The Magician's smile dropped, this obviously wasn't a question that he'd been expecting. 'The King,' continued Pardigan. 'You know, the ruler of the land, married to the Queen, likes hanging thieves, you must know him. Where does he sleep?' The Magician's expression had turned to a scowl.

'Hold out your arms, I have to bind you.' He pushed out the rope again with a wave of his hands and it floated a little closer to Pardigan. 'His majesty sleeps in his chambers, in the east tower, but why would you want to know that?' Pardigan stepped back, still smiling.

'Because I'm going to put this rose on his pillow.' He looked to the door and place-shifted, feeling the familiar rush, mixed with the cry of alarm from the Magician. At the door, he turned, waved back at the startled old man, and then stepped through. Once in the hallway he became invisible again.

The corridor was deserted, but instead of just running, Pardigan stepped to one side and waited for the Magician to come out, which he did only moments later. The smile was back in place amongst the fluffy white beard, and he was muttering to himself.

'A place-shifter, how exciting, shifted a good twelve spans too! Good, good, good.' He went shuffling down the corridor with Pardigan following a few paces behind.

* * *

Outside the palace, three wet figures stared up from beneath their oilskin and gazed through the rain at the palace walls. The street was empty. Even the guards at the gate had retreated into their guardhouse.

'Well, now what… I don't see him?' Hopping across to the shelter of a doorway, Loras huddled down and glanced about, shivering. 'I don't understand why we're here? Can't we just get cross with him in the morning? And if we're not going back to The Owl, then let's at least sit by the wall where I can warm the air. I can't keep the rain out while we walk. There's water dripping down the back of my cloak and my feet are soaked, and anyway, we're never going to find him. If he's decided to get into the palace, then he's already inside… this is stupid.'

'We're here,' said Tarent, 'because he's probably going to get into a lot of trouble. Come on, let's walk around the walls, we may still find him and if not, we can shelter after.' Quint helped Loras up from where he had sunk to a crouch, and they trailed after Tarent. They traipsed along, following the street around the palace, jumping over puddles and keeping close to the wall to stay out of the rain and wind as best they could. The storm was getting much closer. After each flash of lightning, they each counted the heartbeats before the clash of thunder. 'Five leagues away… three leagues…'

'If I know Pardigan he'll either get out quietly, or there's going to be a big commotion when they try to catch him,' said Quint.

Loras nodded miserably, 'I suppose that wherever he is he's going to be warmer and dryer than we are, this is not fun.'

'Blame Pardigan,' growled Tarent.

The street remained empty, and they soon gave in to Loris's whining demands and headed over to some steps in a darkened doorway, opposite the main entrance to the palace. Settling down, Loras was finally able to set a bubble of air around them and warm the inside to keep out the chill and damp. Unable to do much of anything else, they sat and watched the patterns in the rain, waiting for something to happen. They didn't have to wait too long, as far off in the palace first one horn sounded and then another. They watched with interest as several guards came rushing out to stand miserably at attention in the rain with water streaming down their cloaks. More horns sounded at various parts of the palace and the three friends looked at each other.

'Well, I think that means he got in, and they know he's there,' smiled Quint. 'Good luck, Pardigan,' he muttered under his breath, and then added, 'Source be true.'

* * *

Chapter 3 The King's Thief

Horns and now bells echoed through the palace in a deafening cacophony of sound and confusion. Doors crashed open, and guards and servants filled the corridors making it difficult for Pardigan to keep the Magician in sight. They descended several levels of stairs and entered a huge central reception hall heading, in what Pardigan hoped was the direction of the east tower and the King's chambers.

Keeping up as best he could, he made his way across the hall, sidestepping people who couldn't see him, and so made no effort to avoid him, as he gazed about in awe. The hall was vast and richly appointed. Massive stone pillars the size of mature oak trees lined each side reaching up towards a golden, vaulted ceiling. At the base of each pillar stood a uniformed guard, stern and unmoving, ignoring the pandemonium around them, resigned to their task of motionless duty.