Pieces

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 14

As Bedlam fled the scene and the guards began to congregate around the warehouse, a lone (and very short) figure on a rooftop who had been watching everything unfold turned and walked down the stairs. When he reached the ground of the alley below, he did not turn towards a street. He pressed his hand into the brick wall of one building, and a hidden panel about three feet tall swung to the side. The figure walked inside without ducking.

Tunnels twisted and curved beneath the entire town of Fannen-Dar, some made by the underground river that provided the town with its fresh water, while many others were made in secret by thieves planning ahead to escape the guards, shopkeepers preparing an escape route in case of an all-too-common robbery, or nobles who enjoy commissioning architects to add that sort of thing into their designs. It had become a maze that could (and had) kill a hapless wanderer who forgot the breadcrumbs and twine balls. The halfling took out the dagger from its hidden holster. The runic lines that covered the blade started to glow red in the darkness, and the halfling began to rush through the tunnels without ever needing to stop and choose which direction to go next.

Finally, he reached a brick wall with less dust on it than the others. He held the dagger out, placing the blade flat against the stone three high and two to the left from a particular scratch on the floor. The heat from the blade hissed against the rock, and after a moment, there was a dull rumbling inside the wall. The bricks slid aside, and there was King Dom.

He lounged in his throne (one of many scattered through the secret rooms he controlled) as the halfling entered the room, and the hidden door slid back into place. The room was lit by glowing golden baubles dangling from the ceiling. King Dom had enough coin from his carefully arranged criminal empire that he could spend it on useless items. That is to say, they appeared useless, but they had a very specific purpose: to flaunt his wealth, brag to his enemies, and intimidate his allies.

King Dom nodded, the fingers of one hand lightly grazing his cheek. “Welcome, Kelvin,” he said. The halfling bowed in return, and sheathed his magic dagger.

“My liege,” Kelvin replied. “I did as you asked, and the Firemen are none the wiser. They still think I lead them in pursuit of our own goals...rather than yours.”

King Dom barely disguised the fact that he was trying not to roll his eyes, though Kelvin remembered that he was only supposed to think that it was barely disguised, when it was actually an act well planned out to carry across a very specific meaning. Or maybe that was just what he wanted him to think...King Dom had only spoken two words and already Kelvin was confused. The King of Dominaurus was known to maintain control over his every move for just that purpose.

“I do not care what your minions think. They are too stupid to mess with my plans, no matter what they know.” He waved a hand. “Then again, perhaps they simply know not to interfere.” He leaned forward. “What I want to know is, what happened at the warehouse?”

Kelvin wiped some sweat from his forehead. He had a feeling the King already knew the answer. “The Firemen thought...” He paused, gulped. “That's to say, I made the explosives appear to be set, but made sure that they din't go off.”

King Dom leaned back in his seat. He said one word. “And?”

“Th-there was others there,” Kelvin stammered, “in the w-warehouse. I dunno how they got in, I was very careful to tell the Firemen to lock the doors tight.” He shuffled his pint-sized feet. If King Dom seemed larger than life to a human, imagine how he appeared to a three-foot-tall halfling. “But they came out after the explosion was supposed to go off, and they got away scot-free. I...I think the town guard knew about it too, s-somehow.” He braced himself in preparation for King Dom's ire.

King Dom, however, smiled. “Perfect,” he said. This only caused Kelvin to tense up further.

“What d'you me...I mean, how so?” Kelvin said, trying to mimic King Dom's conversation style to hopefully win some brownie points (There are no girl scouts in Calemor. This expression, of course, comes from the brownies, which are short fae beings related to leprechauns. They live in hidden nooks around houses and do household chores in exchange for gifts of food and shiny things. Leaving honey or copper coins by the stone wall around your lawn earns you brownie points, as we know from the very small tally books sometimes found in such places.).

“There is a new gang in town, Kelvin,” King Dom said. “One in which I personally have an investment. Yes,” he added, seeing the look on Kelvin's face, “I have agents other than yourself, many of whom do not even know they report to me.” He flourished a hand lazily. “Information is the key to success. I made it a point to know everything about everyone in Fannen-Dar. It is a community isolated just enough from the rest of the world that it is possible to know everyone in it, small enough to keep track of all that information, and yet large enough that only one of such intellect as myself can manage it.”

He grinned. “So yes, I did know what you had to tell me. Not because my other spies already did, but because I predicted every move that everyone involved would make.”

Kelvin scratched his head. “What would you do if someone had a change of heart? Turned around at the last minute?”

“Nobody,” King Dom said, one finger pressing down on the arm of his chair, “ever changes. They just become more like themselves.” He sat up straight. “It can be seen a mile away, if you know what you're looking for. I know what everyone in Fannen-Dar will say, what is going through their heads, and where every step they take will be placed.”

Kelvin almost let out an involuntary scoff, but a stronger instinct suppressed it. Survival is more powerful than disbelief. “You're smart,” he said, “smarter than me, that's for sure...B-but even you couldn't know something that random!”

King Dom's smile grew by just a hair. A noticeable hair, of course, otherwise the action would have been useless. As it was, Kelvin shut his mouth.

“All the pieces are falling into place,” King Dom said. “Now, return to your Firemen. You will know when I have need of you again.” As Kelvin nodded and turned to go, King Dom added, “And you know the penalty if you ever question me again.”

Kelvin turned back and nodded so low that it seemed more like a servant bowing to his liege. He then left the secret room underground and walked down the tunnel. As soon as he was out of earshot, he began to run. Still, the only thing he could think about was how each step he took had already been planned out by King Dominaurus.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 13, Sides
Chapter 15, Visitors >>

Sides

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 13

Chester stomped out of the orphanage behind the matron, the last of the children having been evacuated. He held a hand up to his face, pinching is nose to stop the bleeding he suffered when a strange woman had punched him before jumping out the window. They ran to the far side of the street.

Several guards from the night watch were across the street as well. Darrik was with them, wearing his armor even though he had not been assigned to the night watch that evening. Chester also was not supposed to be on duty, but he wasn't ready to take any chances. Turned out, he had been right. Bandits of some sort had sneaked into the orphanage, probably to thwart any attempts to foil their unthinkable plan. Darrik had agreed with Chester after learning that the children were in danger, and summoned the night watch here at the last possible moment in order to prevent alerting Captain Ignatius too early.

Chester's heart dropped, however, when he saw that the Captain was standing with the guards as he fled the building. He was standing at the back, as far away from the warehouse as possible, Chester noticed. The sly traitor knew of the danger and still wouldn't warn anyone.

“This is the last of them,” Chester told Darrik as he approached. Darrik nodded and led them to cover. Before Chester could explain to the disgruntled night watch guards what was going on, Ignatius bellowed at him.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said, his eyes showing more anger than suspicion. “You would remove guards from their posts to, what, babysit for you? You wanted to wake up all the orphans for a field trip, is that it?”

“Sir,” Chester said, trying to hold back his sarcasm so that Ignatius would not realize the young recruit had discovered his betrayal, “I have learned of a plot to violently destroy this part of the town, and if we do not get to safety now, we could get caught in the explosion!”

The guards around them stiffened. “Explosion?” one of them repeated, and others began to ask each other if they knew what was happening. Captain Ignatius pretended to be caught by surprise as well, but responded so quickly that Chester knew he had made a new plan as soon as he saw the orphanage being evacuated.

“I don't know what gave you that idea, but it will be safer if we listened to such a claim, wouldn't it?” he said. He ordered all the guards to take cover and prepare for a fire, listing off the nearest wells so they could quickly form a bucket brigade. He didn't tell anyone to search for suspicious individuals fleeing the scene, as he should have, Chester thought. Chester followed the rest, though, and crouched behind the wall of a building on the opposite side of the street. He was right beside Ignatius.

Two minutes went by without a sound. One of the guards coughed.

Ignatius turned and bore his gaze down on Chester. “All this...for nothing?” he said.

Chester shook his head. “I'm sure of it,” he said, though he was starting to wonder if the plan had been canceled after all. Perhaps when they found the body of the half-dwarf, the Firemen had decided to go into hiding or postpone it. Chester wouldn't have a way of knowing what happened after, or even before, that discussion he witnessed.

“From what I see, you have brought us all out here for nothing,” Ignatius said, although a smile was trying to creep its way up the side of his mouth. “If you had learned of a plot to destroy town property, long enough to put on your armor and waltz out of the barracks, then you would also have had time to inform the rest of the guard, wouldn't you?!” The other guards watched Chester get chewed out, shuffling their feet and glancing sideways at the buildings that were supposedly supposed to explode.

“You clearly were wrong,” Ignatius finished. “But we must know for sure, since you have caused such a stir...isn't that the protocol?” He was staring sternly at Chester, his face a facade of the chess-master forced to make the choice between sacrifice his own queen or losing his king. Yet beneath, Chester could still see that grin wrinkled around the corners of his eyes. “Chester, isn't it? I'm going to have to ask you to investigate that warehouse which you think is about to combust...and that's an order.”

Chester swallowed as his heartbeat quickened. He couldn't go against a direct order from a superior without risk being arrested for treason. It would be the ultimate irony, wouldn't it, he thought. Going against a traitor only to be labeled as one. But the alternative would be dying in a fiery explosion and letting Ignatius get away with killing the only person who knew of his–

Chester glanced over at Darrik. Darrik's eyes were wide, staring directly at him, waiting to see what sort of decision he would make. Chester looked back meaningfully, trying to tell him with his eyes to continue the fight if he didn't make it. Darrik knew everything that Chester knew, and even though he didn't have the same undying urge to set things right, he would be the only one who was capable of it. Darrik saw something in Chester's glance and nodded. Chester looked back at Ignatius.

“Right away, sir,” he said.

“And take a cloth to your face. You've blood all over.”

Chester walked through the alley between the empty orphanage and the warehouse, to get to the door on the other side. He turned the corner and was surprised to see it swinging open under the light of the moon. He rushed over, thinking that perhaps the Firemen were still inside, and he could disrupt them before they lit the powder...and then would promptly get killed by them. He gulped as he sneaked closer.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to see figures running through the alleys away from the warehouse. One of them walked through a beam of moonlight before turning another corner. It was the woman who punched him. His heart sank; they had already left. But he still had time to stop the explosion, and save his own life.

He rushed into the warehouse, searching for the boxes with the purple symbols on them that he had seen in the Firemen's lair. It wasn't long before he found the stack in the middle of the room; it was the largest one, and whatever was supposed to be in its place had clearly been combined haphazardly with the other piles nearby. Anyone would have to be a fool not to notice something was amiss just by glancing at it. He then scoured the pile for the fuse.

When he found it, he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. The fuse was not lit. Perhaps his activity in the orphanage had scared them off after all...but then he noticed the gum that had been added to the wire.

He picked it off and twiddled it in his hands. Someone had been here first and sabotaged the Firemen's setup so that their plan would fail. That meant someone besides he and Darrik knew about the plan, had an insider's look at the Firemen's activity. And they also had a reason not to tell the town guard about the plan.

Which meant that, whoever they were, while they weren't on the side of the Firemen, they weren't on the side of the law either.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 12, Countdown
Chapter 14, Pieces >>

Countdown

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 12

Robin got to her feet, leaning against the wall for support as her legs shook from the excitement of nearly falling out of a second-story window. There wasn't a moment to catch her breath, however. The four scurried along the wall to find a way down and out.

Anzo found a ladder leaning up against the catwalk. He waved his hands, ushering the others to go down before him. Gwynt slid down, and Hudtan jumped after climbing halfway. Robin put one shaky foot below the other while Anzo simply lowered himself from the edge of the catwalk. His long arms brought him only a few feet above the floor, and he dropped with a dull thump.

When Robin reached the bottom, Gwynt had found the door. For some reason, however, he wasn't leaving. Robin weaved through the stacks of crates and sacks to see what the matter was. Hudtan was on her knees examining the handle, and Anzo scratched his chin.

“Someone locked the door from the outside,” he informed Robin. “Hudtan is working out how to pick the lock from our position.”

“Couldn't you just break down the door?” Gwynt suggested.

Anzo knocked on the wood, which responded with a stubborn rap. Normally you would expect at least a rattle, but this door was so large that it nearly reached the second floor, and was wide enough to fit two horses side by side. As such, the massive hinges were holding it firmly in place, and it was extra thick to boot. Anzo shook his head.

“I'd break my shoulder first,” he said.

It was at this point that Robin became aware of a soft, constant hiss.

“Hudtan, are you making any progress?” Anzo asked. She waved her hand holding the lockpick at him.

“I need silence while I work,” she said.

“That sounds like a 'no' to me,” Anzo grumbled.

“Does anyone hear...?” Robin started to say. Gwynt suddenly looked shocked. He pointed at the stacks of crates, and Robin whirled around. There was nothing there, so she turned back to Gwynt. “What?”

“I saw a moving light,” he said. He walked along the wall, looking into the center of the room, trying to catch sight of it again. Then he jumped and waved his pointing finger again. “There!”

Then Robin saw it, and the hiss grew louder. It was coming from the light, rapidly moving along the floor, like a spark of lightning riding a miniature carriage. She dashed forward to where the light had just been, but it moved more quickly than she could run. She turned her head just in time to see it turn another corner behind a stack of crates.

Robin looked down at the ground where she had seen it move. A bit of smoke hung in the air near the floor, starting to rise and spread, becoming invisible as it mixed with the air. There was also a faint line on the floor. She bent forward, and saw that the wooden floorboards had been scorched black where the light had passed.

“Something's not right,” she said. She stood back up and looked around, still hearing the faint hiss in the background. Her eyes darted as she searched, and she wrung her hands in fear. She didn't like it when something wasn't right. That always meant something was wrong.

Gwynt climbed a stack of crates near the edge of the room. His green eyes scanned the room. “There!” he shouted, pointing, but then shook his head. “No, it's gone...Wait, there it is again! Ah, too late...”

“Would you please remain uncommunicative!” Hudtan said.

Robin scurried around the crates, trying to go where Gwynt was indicating. She kept finding faint trails of black, sometimes between two floorboards and sometimes running perpendicular across them.

“It's moving towards you! To your right!” Gwynt shouted.

“Keep it down, Gwyntmarwolaeth!” Anzo hoarsely whispered. “What are you two doing? Find another way out! Hudtan is unable to unlock the door!”

“I would be perfectly able if I were given the proper environment in which to not get so distracted!” Hudtan said.

Robin turned to the right and saw two towers of boxes stacked close together. She turned sideways to squeeze between them, but was too late to stop the spark from whizzing by, following a long gap in the wood. She noticed as it turned a corner that it was following a thin black string which, as the spark touched it, faded into black powder.

“It's a spark,” Robin said, trying to speak just loud enough for Gwynt to hear. Her voice came out cracked and thin, however, so she had to try again. “A spark is following a string! It's moving too fast for me to catch up to it, and the string is hidden in the floorboards at most points.”

“I keep losing sight of it,” Gwynt replied. “I don't think we need to be worried about a string too much.”

“I'm not worried about the string,” Robin said. “I'm worried about what's at the end of it.” She paused, an idea forming into her head. She looked up from the floor, where she had been scanning for signs of black string that had been untouched by the flame. Instead, she looked around at the stacks of crates.

Anzo was still trying to direct Hudtan. “Just turn the pick a bit to your left. No, no, too much! You must stay steady, Hudtan.” Hudtan made a sound like an elk trapped under a fallen tree.

Robin ran her hand across the top of one of the crates she stood near. A layer of dust came off, coating her hand. She brushed it against her pant leg before realizing that her clothes were even dirtier. Then she hiked around the room, glancing at the top of every crate, box, and barrel. They were all coated in about the same layer of dust towards the center of the warehouse. Suddenly, she came across one that had no dust on it at all. She looked up to see it was the tallest stack of crates in the room. There were purple swirls on the boxes.

“Can anyone read alchemical symbols?” Robin asked. Gwynt, whom she could see still perched on his own pile, shrugged. Robin decided to find out for herself. She tugged at the lid of one of the crates, and was surprised to find it open. She lifted the wooden lid to see that the box was filled to the brim with sinister black powder.

“I'm pretty sure this is a bomb,” Robin said in a high-pitched whine.

Gwynt started to say something, but his eyebrows shot up and he pointed yet again. “There it is!” he said.

Robin turned to see the spark heading straight for her, and the crates with purple squiggles.

She bent down and dug her hands inbetween the floorboards, searching for the black string. The spark hissed closer at a speed faster than a track star sprinting, giving her only a split to realize...she had chosen the wrong crack.

The spark fizzled past her.

And it disappeared.

Robin blinked, looking up at the huge pile of crates behind her. They remained unexploded. She examined the floor next to her where the spark had disappeared. She found the remaining bit of string, and it was indeed connected to that pile of crates. If it was a fuse to light the powder on fire, then it had simply failed.

“Did you get it?” Gwynt asked.

Robin tried to slow her breathing and heartbeat enough to respond. “Yugh,” she stammered.

She then noticed a glint of metal out of the corner of her eyes. She reached down to find two pieces of a broken lockpick. It wasn't just a thin piece of scrap metal like she would usually try to use (and fail, of course). This lockpick had been crafted by a metalworker to finesse even the toughest of locks. It had a decoration of a flame at the base.

There was a snapping sound from the door. “Oh, these tratten things!” Hudtan swore. “Get me another!”

“You need more practice at this,” Anzo grumbled, handing her another lockpick.

“My foot I need more practice!” Hudtan snapped back, and jammed the new lockpick into the keyhole, where it promptly broke. “Trat!”

“Here,” Robin said, approaching with Gwynt behind her. “Try this one. It's already broken, but it's got some useful hooks at the end.”

Hudtan raised one eyebrow, but took the broken off tip of the lockpick. It was long enough that she could fit it into the keyhole and move it around, her ear pressed up against the door. Anzo started to say something, but Robin and Gwynt both gave him a wide-eyed look, and he closed his mouth. The sound of the latch greeted their ears, and Hudtan stood up. She handed the pick back to Robin, then opened the door.

“About time,” Anzo said, then gave Hudtan a pat on the back. “Excellent work, Hudtan!”

Hudtan sighed. “Thank you, boss.”

“Now,” Anzo said, “let's get out of here before those guards find us!”

Robin couldn't agree more. She did find it strange, though, as they fled down the street and returned to the dark alleys, that she didn't see a single cop on the lookout for them. Robin shrugged and decided to take it, along with the fuse failing before sending them up in flames, as another sign of good luck. Maybe her life was finally starting to head down the right track.

It was then that she realized she had helped conduct her first heist, and still came away without having stolen a single thing. Being a thief was a lot harder than she'd thought. Robin sighed inwardly and followed Bedlam on their way back to their base in the Plinth.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 11, Fuse
Chapter 13, Sides >>