Shadows & Schemes

Shadows & Schemes

"You're supposed to be keeping lookout, which means watching for evil creatures slinking about, not watching me work," Ven said, pressing his face against the weathered surface of the immense, circular stone looming above him.

"How can I help that when you talk so much?" Mallie asked as she peered down a narrow winding passage.

They stood within an Essiam chamber, an expansive subterranean cathedral with eerie runes and symbols intricately carved onto the marble walls that stretched into darkness high above. A soft green orb floated above them, emitting a gentle glow, that seemed to illuminate everything without casting any light.

"Well, talking does help me," Ven said as he wiggled his thin metal tools inside lock. "You see, the art of lock picking—"

"Art?" She asked.

"Yes, Mallie. Art."

"Go on."

"The art of lock picking requires as little thought as possible. Since I cannot see the mechanism, I must rely entirely upon feel, rhythm, and instinct." He closed his eyes, the tools clinked softly against the sturdy metal, and for a moment, his expression, the focus, it really did seem as if he was gazing directly at the gears, as though the tools were a seamless extension of him.

"Well, I suggest you put that feel, rhythm and instinct to use a bit faster," Ettick’s voice sounded in Mallie’s head.

"Tell Ettick you can't rush perfection," Ven replied.

Mallie put her finger on her earring. "Ven said—"

"I heard him," Ettick said. "I haven't stopped hearing him since he saw the door."

"I thought you had to touch the earing to be heard…" Ven said.

"Clearly, you do not," Ettick said.

"As I was saying," Ven continued, his brow scrunching in concentration. "It's more of an art than a science. Like, love making, or fighting, or—"

"Like painting?" Mallie sighed.

Ven rolled his eyes. "The commoner does not understand the passions of the enlightened. It is anathema to them."

"The passions of a thief, picking a lock,” Mallie responded. A chill breeze blew through the chamber, and Mallie rubbed her arms in a poor attempt to keep warm. "When Ettick approached me for this job, he mentioned I’d be working with Ven, the greatest lockpick the world has ever known,” She cleared her throat, then lowered her voice, “I’ll warn you, Mallie, Ven's immense talent comes an equally immense ego.” She cast him a side long glance. “Well, he wasn’t lying."

Ven smiled and shook his head. "No, they never do. In fact, there isn't much one can do to prepare for my…self-belief."

"Might want to hurry it up," Ettick said. "I don’t think Lynus has a lot of time."

"Now, now, Ettick," Ven sucked his teeth. "I'm sure you've heard of the dangers of rushing perfection."

"Wouldn't dream of it, but I'm sure Lynus’s limbs don't care about the dangers of rushing perfection."

"No, they don’t!" Lynus screamed, his voice cutting through the loud clash of screeching metal and a guttural snarl. “My limbs want you to rush perfection. They want you to finish per—” he was cut off but a roar.

“Lyn—” Mallie began.

“He’s fine, Mallie,” Ettick said. “Ven, hurry up.”

Despite the talking, and in Lynus’s case, the howling demon, Ven looked as if he hadn’t lost an ounce of focus.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve bypassed the first sixteen mechanisms, and I am now starting on the final set of gears and springs. I'll need complete and udder silence from this point on," Ven said. "Lynus, if the Essiam begins to eat you, please suffer in silence."

"May the gods of shadow and dust—” A loud metal clang interrupted. “Keep your soul from the light for all eternity," Lynus growled.

Ven waited, eyes closed, his cheek pressed against the cold stone. The only sound was the wind's ghostly whisper through the chamber. Mallie watched him pinch and manipulate his tools; his movements were so subtle, so exacting, that had she not been fixated, it might've seemed he wasn't moving at all. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, and his pale face reddened with concentration. He strained, and after what felt like an eternity, a faint click echoed, followed by a deep clunk. Ven exhaled and stepped back.

"It seems, I've done it again," he said, wiping the sweat from his face.

"Finally!" Mallie breathed.

"I must say, Mallie,” Venn said, jamming his tools into his pouch, “You and I make a phenomenal team. You remove the magical traps and I disable the locks. I wouldn’t call you my equal…” He studied her, looking down his nose, “but you’re close enough. When this is over, perhaps you could work for me.” 

Mallie walked past Ven and placed her hands on the side of the door. "Help me with this."

 Ven sighed and walked up beside her. They began pushing, but the door didn't budge.

"Ettick," Mallie said, staring at the stone disc looming above her. “I destroyed all the wards and Ven disabled the lock, but the door won’t open."

"Are you sure the lock is disabled?" Ettick asked.

"Hey,” Ven whirled around to face Mallie. “Why didn't you second-guess her about the wards?"

"Ven…” Ettick cautioned.

"Yes," Ven frowned and crossed his arms. "The lock is disabled."

"You two are going to have to figure it out because I need to make sure Lynus doesn't die up here."

"It would be great if you actually helped!" Lynus barked.

"You're doing fine," Ettick replied.

“Well,” Ven said, dropping to a crouch, then tracing his hand along the edge of the door, “another opportunity to show how well we work together.”

Mallie stroked her chin, gazing up at the enormous stone door. Standing at least fifteen feet tall, its only breach was the lock Ven had just disabled. The bottom of the door was set in a large stone track which allowed it to slide into the wall, but something was preventing it from moving.

Her mind wandered back, three days ago, before this whole thing started.

 

***

 

Above her, the intricately carved wooden canopy cradled a mirror. It showed Mallie below, with arms resting behind her head, her black hair splayed out, and deep brown eyes lost in thought. An unexpected knock pulled her from her reflection.

Rising swiftly, she opened the door to find a man wearing silky garments, shiny boots, and gold rings.

He handed her a letter which she promptly unrolled to read:

"To Mallie Liora,

Word has reached me that you are among the most adept at detecting and neutralizing traps and wards. I have a proposition for you—a task with compensation so grand, you wouldn't exhaust it in three lifetimes. Please join me within the next hour; my servant will escort you to my residence.

Sincerely,

Emmanuel Ettick"

She rolled the letter up, her mind already racing ahead, weighing the options. She owned her house, which stood in the heart of Isfrosh City, so gold wasn’t a concern, but one could always use more. Dreams of the Senenoa Isles danced in her head, where just the fare for a ship ride equaled a year's taxes on her property.

So, she had went.

Walking into the room, a soft glow illuminated her path, guided by the scents of old books and polished wood. Ettick sat, one leg folded over the other, reclined on an expansive couch, lost in a book. His beard was meticulously groomed, eyes deep and shadowed, and his tousled hair hinting at a controlled chaos. 

"Good evening, Mallie," he greeted, without looking up from his book. "I am Ettick. The others should arrive in the next day or so, but since you live here, you can return to your home and await my summons, or you may stay."

The promise of secrets and the lure of gold acted as an unseen force, drawing Mallie into a chair opposite Ettick. "What is this about?"

Ettick smiled, closed the book, and met her eyes. "I am pleased you’re seated, because you aren't going to believe me if I told you."

He had a way about him, of talking to her as if they'd known each other for years.

"What is it?" she pressed.

Her eyebrows shot up, her mouth opened slightly in a silent gasp, and her eyes widened. Unbelievable indeed.

Ettick chuckled. "I wonder if you expression mirrored my own when the Caste representative first approached me.”

She struggled to find the words; the notion was so incredulous. "Forgive me, Ettick,” she steepled her hands in front of her face, “but The Caste Empire is a myth. It existed so long ago, that, had it actually been real, it still may as well be a myth."

Ettick shrugged. "With the amount of gold she gave me, she could claim shes the king of Elphail for all I care."

She raised an eyebrow. "How much did she give you?"

Without a word, Ettick retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket, gave it a quick glance, and passed it to her.

She gasped, her hand settling on her chest. "Ettick…this is…half a million coin." Her heart pounded and she struggled to control the rush of thoughts of how she’d spend such wealth. "You jest. This is a joke. You wrote this down and made it all up."

He pointed at the bottom of the paper. "That's the bankers signature."

"Gods of sky and wind…” she looked up at him. “I can build an entire city with that type of money…"

Ettick nodded, then leaned back, folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. "The only problem is the job."

"The job? You’re concerned about the job? Ettick, for that amount of money, I'd—"

"We need to break into a vault deep within an Essiam Necropolis."

She paused, her mouth agape. "An Essiam…Necropolis?" she echoed. “How many of us?”

“Five.”

She chuckled, setting the note on a nearby end table. She folded her hands in her lap. “I admit, you had me convinced this was real. The money, the banker’s signature on the bottom of this fake n—”

“The necropolis will be empty,” Ettick cut in. He rose and approached the window. “Because the king will be sending two regiments to get rid of the demon infestation.”

Mallie glanced at the note, then at Ettick, who stood with his hands behind his back, staring out of the window. For a moment, the weight of the situation settled on her, the sheer insanity of breaking into an Essiam stronghold, along with the promise of enough money to buy a tiny island. Without a word, she joined him at the window.

“What are we stealing?”

To Be Continued