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Chapter 6

Beneath the earth, hidden away from prying eyes, was a wrought iron door. A locking mechanism kept the inside safe from intrusion, and blocked all light and sound from the other side. It's surface was tarnished and had specks of rust covering it, dulling the once shiny metal that now failed to capture the light of an alchemical lamp mounted next to it.

The crunch of leather boots echoed through the hall as Cormac stomped towards it. With a simple command word and a wave of his hand, the lock clicked and the door began to creak open. The hallway was filled with the door's torturous screech as it moved.

He was greeted by the potent stench of chemicals tinged with a hint of mold and mildew as it wafted out of the room. Beneath that existed something far more sinister: the stench of decay. When the smell hit the man's nostrils, he didn't even flinch. Rather, he merely noticed that it was there with the indifference a gardener would have for a rose, and continued walking through the door unhindered.

The door shut itself behind him, and he made a wide sweeping motion with his outstretched hand. As his arm lined up with each lamp that lined the walls, they came to life, filling the dank room that had at one point been a vast treasury.

Tables were scattered throughout the outer edges of the room, and the sound of bubbling concoctions and the roar of an open flame greeted him. There was a countless array of potions either on shelves or scattered across the tables. A man's research was never ending.

Cormac was greeted by the deep rumble of a baritone voice. "Back so soon? Did you manage to locate the fragment?"

"No," the man replied. He removed his cloak and hung it on a coat rack. "But I've taken some steps to locate it. The Mithril Blades will do the work for us."

"Good," the voice said before its owner refocused his attention on his work. He was a large individual that sat hunched over something with a writing stylus in his hand. He scratched away something as quick as he could, then called out, "Master Cormac, I believe I've finished. Would you care to take a look?"

"Let me see, Dralthin." Cormac glided over to his apprentice's side, moving far more swiftly than a man even half his age should've.

Dralthin sat up straight and turned to regard his master. Unlike Cormac, he was an ursar, a bear-like humanoid. Though short in comparison to others of his race, he still stood half a head taller than most humans. He had broad shoulders and thick arms as a product of his dilligence in his daily training. The stylus looked much too small in his large fingers, yet he held it so gingerly it didn't snap. His body was covered in a distinct blue-black fur color that seemed to shimmer in the light. Unlike other ursar, he didn't have any hair atop his head, making him appear all the more like his distantly related, feral cousins.

The ursar was sitting in front of a piece of parchment that had been made from sheepskin. Arcanus, the language of magic, was written into the skin using black ink. The symbols were arranged in a circle around a central rune that looked like a set of chains criss-crossing over the center.

"Excellent. You've done well under my tutelage," Cormac said, congratulating him and giving a light squeeze of his large shoulder. "Your assistance with my work has helped immensely."

"I've dedicated my life to my studies. I wouldn't expect any less from myself." Dralthin set the stylus down. "Will it work?"

"The better question is, can you make it work?"

Dralthin seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, and slowly, he nodded his head. "I would need some materials and a test subject to make sure it works properly."

Cormac smiled, his lips parting just enough to show off the yellowed teeth. "I'm sure we can find something." He patted the ursar on the shoulder again before rising. "The late Lord Astor would be pleased to help you with your experiment."

Dralthin pushed his chair away from the table and rose to his full, six-and-a-half foot height. When he was sitting, he'd been imposing, but now he would pass for terrifying amongst strangers. Even beneath his thick coat of fur, one could see the muscles tense and roll and flex with every movement he made. He held his parchment gingerly in his giant paws, and rolled it up like one might roll a cigar. He stuffed it in a scroll case and snapped the metal lid shut.

"I'm going to market to get what I need then," Dralthin said. "Did you need anything, Master?"

"No, I believe I have everything I need," Cormac said. "There is something you can do for me, young Dralthin." He snapped a finger and a small sheaf of paper popped into existence in front of him, floating for a moment in the air before he plucked it like it were a flower. "Can you deliver this to the Mithril Blades while you're out? I would normally have a servant do it but they're not the least bit reliable."

Dralthin took the papers and looked at them. His eyes scanned the page, slowly deciphering the text as it was written in Common. "A wanted poster?"

"Yes. Do you think you can take care of that for me?"

"Of course. I'll take care of that first and then head to the market." Dralthin folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

* * * * *

The city of Altair was divided into several districts based on income. In the southern reaches of the city, closest to one of the great lakes nearby, was called the Meadows. The defensive walls around the city split off and formed a protective barrier around this richer part of the town, protecting its inhabitants from the impoverished on the other side. The church of Laren that Dougal had made his guild's Hideout in resided on the opposite side of the city, in a district that was called the Burrows.

The Burrows and the Meadows made up the largest part of the city. Between these two were several smaller sections of the city, cutting through them like a gorge. Market was one such district, and it stretched in a thin line across the city. It was the only time the poor ran into the rich, and it was also the part of town where guards were the most diligent to prevent pickpocketing of the city's nobles.

The streets were alive with energy as merchants hawked their wares from their store fronts. Others had only a simple stall set up, while others still had only set out a blanket on the ground and distributed their wares atop it. Bards strummed on lutes, playing tunes and trying to compete with the noise of the crowds.

It was easy for Dougal to slip through them, being as small as he was. Jinn however, appeared unaccustomed to crowds and the dwarf had to elbow him a few times to keep him from growling too loudly, lest he betray his appearance and make people suspicious.

As they moved down the streets to the butcher's shop, Dougal was acutely aware of all the jingling sacks of coins people walked around with. Even those who had been able to afford leggings with pockets made it obvious where they held their money.

He saw a hand dart out and snatch a pouch from off someone's belt. The victim never noticed, but Dougal did. As the little thief ran by, the dwarf snatched him by the wrist, twisting his arm to make him drop the bag, and caught it before it could hit the ground.

"Where do you think you're going with that, little thief?" Dougal sneered. He tugged the boy along until he found the owner, a large man with broad shoulders and thick arms.

"Let go of me!" The boy pleaded and beat on Dougal's hand, but his little hands couldn't strike with enough force to make the dwarf let go.

"Sir!" Dougal called out and tapped the man in the back with his free hand. "I believe you're missing this." He held up the money pouch to show him.

The man, an imposing, hairy giant, showed a moment of confusion across his face before his cheeks flushed red with anger. "What are you doing with my money!?"

Dougal shoved the child forward then tossed the bag at the man. "This tyke here swiped it. You should consider putting that somewhere safer."

The man snorted. "I suppose I should thank you, dwarf." He turned to the child and tried to make a grab for him. "As for you, I'm going to have both your hands removed and stuck in a fire to make sure no healer can ever fix it!"

The boy ran screaming and crying as quick as he could. The crowd was slow to part, and soon the boy slipped from his grasp.

Jinn was openly laughing at the display, in the way that only a gnoll can laugh. He drew a few odd stares, but he didn't seem to care. Dougal had a smirk on his face and twirled a silver coin in his fingers before it disappeared, slipping it into a hidden pocket.

_ Why would you do that? _

Shut up and let me have my fun.

"You slipped the kid something didn't you?" Jinn said after he'd calmed down and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Yes, and I took something for myself as well," Dougal replied. "Someone has to pay my stupid tax."

"Don't you ever think that you might be enabling novices like that?" Jinn asked.

"Naw, I'm sure it's fine. If he's stealing, then he must need it. I just didn't want him taking everything. That human didn't look like he could afford to lose all his coin."

A long moment of silence passed before the voice re-entered Dougal's mind. _ What a stupid display. That isn't one of Laren's teachings. _

Dougal did his best to ignore it.

The butcher was a quiet, out of the way shop close to the Burrows. It had quickly become a favorite of Dougal's for its choice cuts of meat, and the generous tips he'd given the butcher, a middle-aged woman and only child of the original owner, had ensured top notch service.

After getting some fresh meat, and several paper-wrapped bundles of salted jerky, the pair headed out and began to make their way back to the Hideout. Jinn had been forced to carry everything on in his rucksack, leaving Dougal to saunter ahead while whistling a jaunty tune that he picked up from a bard they passed by earlier in the day.

Thoughts of their next big heist entered his mind. He wondered where they would go next while waiting for information on the next Sylvan fragment. Petty crimes were fine and dandy in his opinion, and they helped pass the time, but he wanted something more. Something so valuable it was worth the effort. Since many of the nobles were educated individuals, and non-human, they tended to be from a long line of wizards. This meant there were usually a wealth of spell components, magical heirlooms, and spell books to be found.

The sound of a town crier pulled him out of his thoughts. The child was young and had a shrill voice, making it difficult to focus while walking past. Dougal passed by with a grumble before suddenly freezing in his tracks.

"Lord Astor and his wife go missing after burglary! Mithril Blades are searching for the culprit in connection with his disappearance!"

Dougal ran over and swiped one of the large pieces of parchment the boy held in his hands, flicking a couple pieces of copper up into the air that spiraled high and down into the surprised crier's open palm. He looked at the text on the front and gaped at its contents. As his eyes scanned the page, he realized that his name was on it.

"What does it say?" Jinn asked. He watched the road warily, fully aware that regardless of the contents of the paper, it spelled trouble for them.

"'The thief, a dwarf known as Dougal, is accompanied by a gnoll," Dougal read out loud, "The pair broke into the Lord's manor late in the evening several nights ago, and after terrorizing Lord Astor and his wife, the pair took off with several of his possessions."

The paper shook in his hands. It wasn't from fear, but from anger, and his voice rose as he read the final part. "The Mithril Blades are searching for the suspects, who are believed to be connected with Lord and Lady Astor's disappearance. Lord Cormac is offering a large reward for anyone who can capture the suspects alive."

"What? That can't be right!" Jinn said.

Dougal tossed the parchment aside and began to run ahead, and Jinn was quick to follow as he easily gained on the dwarf.

"We didn't even do anything!" Jinn protested.

" Keep it down!" Dougal snapped. Worry creased his face. It wasn't normal for him to get so worked up, but now things had become much more complicated, when only a day ago his plans were moving along smoothly. As much as he wanted to stay and rob Altair of all its fortunes, he wouldn't be able to do it with some of the best armed forces that operated on Jha'zal chasing after him.

" Damn it! You both got careless!" Dougal sneered. The dwarf looked pained, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was not the time to give in, he had to think.

"What are we going to do?"

"We'll wait for Freya to contact us and go from there," Dougal said as he pushed past people, much to their distress and annoyance. He kept going, even as he nearly tripped over a small toddler that had wandered away from her mother. "We need to figure out where the last two fragments are, and fast."

How could this have happened? Dougal thought. He'd never so much as lay a finger on someone, even in self defense. Killing people only raised alarms and made the nobility more suspicious, making his job harder.

_ You messed up, that's what you did, _ fumed the voice in Dougal's mind. _ Never, ever, EVER let your quarry see you. That was the first rule I taught you! _

"Get down!" Jinn shouted harshly, his voice accompanied by a low growl.

Dougal was vaguely aware of Jinn's warning, but he could not react fast enough. A crossbow bolt tore into his back, entering below the right shoulder blade. The dwarf wheezed, feeling as if his lung had deflated. He fell to his knees, failing to catch himself with his hands as his face struck the ground. The pain was unimaginable, and worst of all, it instantly became hard to breath.

Screams erupted all around them as the peasants fled in all directions, like cockroaches beneath the light of a lantern. They sought cover in the darkened alleyways or behind store fronts to avoid whatever conflict was coming their way, to avoid becoming collateral damage.

"You idiot!" a voice shouted. "They want him alive! Cormac won't pay a bounty for a corpse!"

"Grab him quickly, before he chokes on his own blood," another voice added.

Jinn whipped around and spotted several armored individuals running towards them. They wore chain mail beneath long woolen cloaks. Silver thread embroidered a pair of crossed swords over the chest and marked their station.

"Gods curse that noble," Jinn said with a snarl. "It's the Mithril Blades!"

What are the nobility's watch dogs doing here? Dougal thought as he clutched his chest and wheezed with each laboured breath. Standing proved difficult, and he felt light headed.

"Can't... breath," Dougal gasped.

"Damn it! Everything's just decided to go to the Void in a hand basket!" Jinn thrust his hand forward as a pair of fireballs swirled around his outstretched arm and met at his palm. "An theros verus. Fiz ban!" The ball of flame enlarged suddenly and flew as if fired out of a cannon. A plume of flames and smoke shot up into the sky as an explosion rocked the market and took out two of the Blades that were advancing on them.

Unfortunately for the gnoll, casting the spell had destabilized his illusion. His form melted back into his regular shape, revealing his scruffy fur, toothy muzzle, and fierce golden eyes. Jinn rushed to scoop Dougal up as gently as he could, but it didn't help. The dwarf could only groan as he tried to scream in pain, but nothing came out his mouth save for a raspy squeak.

"It's the gnoll!" the guard shouted. He whistled using his fingers, the shrill noise echoing off the stores around them. "Cormac's gonna pay big time for these ones."

"Hang in there, Dougal," Jinn said to reassure his friend. "We'll get you help. We can fix this." It sounded like the gnoll was trying to comfort himself more so than the dwarf.

More crossbow bolts nicked the ground only a hair's width behind them. Jinn proved to be incredibly agile despite carrying Dougal as he ducked and wove past people and over carts.

All Dougal could focus on was the pain. He was acutely aware of the stabbing feeling radiating from his back. He was being jostled around as they ran, further aggravating his wound. He struggled to fight back against the ring of darkness that creeped into his vision like coastal fog. It took all of Dougal's willpower to stay conscious.

_ Don't you even think of passing out! _

He managed to open one eye, and through the crack between his eyelids, he realized that the Mithril Blades and their allies were gaining on them. Jinn wouldn't be able to continue running at this pace for very long, especially not while carrying him.

Dougal wished he could still move on his own. However, there was no way he would be able to manage running with only one lung working, never mind having to deal with the pain at the same time. Dougal hated that he was so useless in that moment. If Jinn were to be captured, or worse, solely because he'd allowed such a situation to happen, he would not have been able to live with his mistake.

There was no time to inform Jinn about what he planned to do. He would just have to hope that the gnoll would follow along without questioning him.

Dougal tried to wriggle out of the gnoll's grasp as he ran, but each movement sent him further towards the edge of consciousness.

Jinn rounded a corner into a residential district, then bolted around a house into an alley. The sounds of the guards echoed after them, but they were managing to put some distance between them.

The shadows of a large building fell over them, and Dougal shivered from the drop in temperature. He finally managed to get free of Jinn's hold and fell to the ground in a most undignified manner. He crawled further into the darkness, trying to get out of sight as quickly as he could possibly manage.

"What are you doing!?" Jinn yelled as he skidded to a stop. "I can't leave you here!"

"Just... go..." Dougal said between raspy breaths. He stared at his friend, silently pleading for his friend to understand him. He motioned with a jerk of his head towards the opposite end of the alleyway and, hopefully, freedom.

"You can't... keep going. Not... with me!" Dougal said.

"But they'll find you!" Jinn replied, sounding desperate. There was a faint whine in his voice. Dougal wasn't sure whether his mind was playing tricks on him or if he'd really heard it. It was the kind of sound only a dog could make when his master was leaving him behind.

"I'll be fine. Go. Albert..."

Jinn looked at Dougal as he sat in the dark, clutching his chest. The scent of blood was overpowering, and he feared that his friend would die before he could return to help him. However, the fire in the dwarf's eyes showed his determination and will to live.

There was always hope that Dougal would find a way out of his situation. He was always a lucky dwarf.

"I'll look after the brat for you." Though Jinn had meant his promise to last only until Dougal returned, it had a certain finality to it, like they would never see each other again. It scared Dougal, but he tried not to let it show.

Instead, he smiled at his friend again before the gnoll took off down the alleyway and disappeared around a corner. The sound of an explosion echoed from a street or two over, and more whistling could be heard. Everything was fading away as Jinn and the Blades chasing him left the district.

Now to get out of here, Dougal thought. His body would not answer him though, and it was proving too difficult to breath. His vision darkened and he felt his head strike stone as he slumped forward.