Читать книгу Project: Shadow Walker - Dalin Moss - Страница 3

"Let's go over it again." Colter said, unfolding the contract and clearing his throat. "A ring of significant value has been located in the Father Tower of the Eastern city Elodin. The tower currently houses a gang of Southern rebels, all human – from what our informants say. You'll know the ring by its onyx color and golden markings. An image in the shape of a phoenix is engraved on its face and the interior of the ring has an unknown inscription. The buyer is unsympathetic to the South and would not mind if bloodshed became necessary to fulfill the contract."

"It won't." Jim said, sharply.

Colter nodded. "Good."

The contractor fetched another parchment from his jacket pocket. As his nimble fingers smoothed out the creased paper, Jim saw the grip of a pistol peer from his beltline. The Hero was undisturbed, knowing that Colter always kept a near armory on his person, but was surprised at his old friend's carelessness in revealing the weapon. He's usually more careful. Something has him nervous.

Colter pointed to the faded blueprint of the Father Tower. "It's safe to assume that the ring will be on the top floor – that's sixty-four stories in total. I'm told.…"

"There are vines that grow as high as the tenth floor and a shaft from a dumbwaiter that reaches from the master suite – on the sixty-fourth floor- all the way down to the kitchens on floor twenty-seven." Jim finished. "I don't mind repetition Colt, but there's something you're not telling me."

Colter let out a huff, allowing his professional persona to dissolve. The simple act made the room feel brighter as the meeting went from one between contractor and thief, to one of friends.

"I don't think you should take this one." Colter said, looking at the floorboards. "There's something…off. This contract is easy, yet it was terribly expensive."

"We've had easy contracts before, Colt." Jim reassured.

"But none that involved Southerners."

Jim was quiet for a time, searching for understanding in his friend's unease. "I can handle my own people."

"Can you?" Colter took a step forward. "If a man from your faction ran at you with a knife, would you be able to cut him down before he warned of your arrival? Or what if you're spotted, what then? They'll know who you are, there's already rumors whispered in every city about that mission you botched in Forge. What was that? Eighty years of hiding? All for naught due to a single night."

"It won't come to that."

"You're sure?"

"I am."

"You're a liar."

Jim shrugged. "I'm a thief."

"Fine." Colter pulled a knife from his belt and held it out for Jim to take. The thief dutifully took the blade and ran it across the tip of his thumb. Then, he placed the wound in the upper corner of the contract. "With your blood, this contract is yours."

Jim moved to the door. "Three weeks. I'll meet you in Indrasmos." He said, then exited the room.

▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫

Elodin was a city of sparsity: the few houses were tall and separated by long stretches of road, the market was comprised of less than a dozen merchants, and the wall that surrounded the city was plain and stone. In the darkness of night, Jim wandered down the vacant streets, moving ever closer to the East edge of Elodin where the three towers looked down upon the sleeping city.

The towers were the only real thing of significance in this place. Each structure was rumored to have been built during The Time Before, and each was now worshiped individually by the followers of Vlour. The tower on the Northern point was known as the Spirit Tower, the one to the South was called the Child Tower, and the one in the center, the tallest of the three, was named the Father Tower. They were dangerous places to hide; a sure way to earn the title of enemy to the masses that followed the Vlour's teachings. But the few bandits that Jim had known, cared little of enemies and friends.

The thief stalked outside the three towers, looking through the hundreds of windows for any signs of life. Quiet. Nothing. Asleep. Jim sprinted forward, quick and soundless, covering the long stretch of empty road in a few, short steps. He pushed his body up against the Father Tower, trying to blend into the dark shadow at its base. Then he waited, listened, using all of his fine senses to ensure he was safe and unnoticed.

After a full minute of silence, Jim crouched around until he spotted the tall, sturdy vines that crawled along the Father Tower. He took a handful of the foliage and pulled hard. When the vines remained attached to the wall, the thief hoisted himself off the ground and began the ten-story climb.

The window was locked, but, prying with a knife, Jim was able to snap the delicate metal lock and enter the Father Tower. Inside, the floorboards were covered in a layer of heavy dust. The walls were covered in ripped paper and decorated by unlit sconces. A small plaque with the word stairs pointed to a door at the opposite end of the hallway.

As he moved, Jim searched the dust for indications of footprints and recent movement but found none. He silently opened the door to the stairwell and began his ascent to the twenty-seventh floor.

As Jim approached his destination, the clank of metal rang from the doorway ahead, followed by the sound of angry voices. Jim pressed his ear against the door and listened. The voices of two men sounded as hushed shouts, their words distorted but their emotion obvious. Jim slowly turned the door handle and cracked the door open.

"…mone had heard you, we'd be marked and convicted by the church. You need to be more careful!" One man chastised.

"It slipped!" Another defended. "The handle was all greasy from your breakfast this morning! It's you that needs to be more careful!"

"Me?" The first man chuckled. "If it weren't for me the whole stack of pots would've tumbled! If I hadn't…." He stopped abruptly.

Another voice, light and songlike, mumbled from farther ahead, too quiet for Jim to properly hear.

"I'm sorry angel, we didn't mean to wake you. Uncle Supe and I were just cooking up some roasted onions. Would you like some?"

The quiet voice mumbled again.

"No, no, it's alright! We're not angry at each other." The second man said, kindly. "Just a bit tired."

"Let's get you back to bed." The first man said. "I could tell you the story of Dinny again. Her stories always help you have happy dreams."

The quiet voice sounded in a delighted chirp.

"Dinny was one of our guardian Heroes. She was known to hunt game, using a bow crafted from the four trees of the Hero people." The man's voice grew distant as he spoke. "She was kind, even to us humans, and defended our villages when our walls were torn to splinters after the…." The sound of a door opening and closing ended the man's story.

Jim moved then, squeezing through the door and easing it closed with a barely audible click. He stayed low, observing the hallway and the many doors that led to varying rooms. At the end of the hall was a shimmering, silver kitchen, lit by a faint fire and accompanied by a lone man. The man stared at the dancing flames, humming softly and cooking fragrant vegetables in a metal pan. At the far end of the kitchen, Jim saw a small door, placed precariously above one counter, the dumbwaiter.

Jim crouched to the bar, keeping his head lower than the table's surface. To reach the small door he'd have to distract the man. Jim pulled out a handful of copper coins and jingled them just loud enough for the man to hear. The man's humming stopped as he listened intently. Jim shook the coins louder and more persistent than before.

The man stood and cleared his throat. "Hello?" He asked. "Who's there?"

Soft footfalls told of the man's careful approach. Jim dropped the coins, ensuring they scatter messily where he waited. As the man came nearer, Jim pivoted around the bar, using the solid surface as a barrier from the man's sight.

"Huh?" The man grunted. "What's this?" He bent down to inspect the spread of coins. "Father, bless." He whispered after a moment, then began noisily collecting the small sum.

Jim snuck to the dumbwaiter and lifted the door with a quiet resonance. The thief stopped for a breath, then, noting that the man had not heard the small noise, he slunk into the shaft and slid the door closed.

The inside of the dumbwaiter was small and cramped. The smell of dust and copper hung heavy in the stale air, making the dark shaft feel ancient and confined. Jim reached above the mobile box for the thick wires that stretched up to an unseen destination. Then, he climbed.

The feeling of strain in his arms and hands gave Jim a small exhilaration. With each pull of his body he rose above countless stories and came closer to another successful mission. When he reached the circular gear that served as the dumbwaiter's pulley, the thief brushed his hand against the wall until he found the inner latch that released the door to the master suite on the highest floor of the Father Tower.

The soft moonlight was almost blinding to Jim's sensitive eyes. He lifted a hand to shield his vision and squinted to observe the elegant suite.

The floors were covered in a red, velvet rug, a chandelier made of clear crystal hung from the center of the ceiling, and on each wall were paintings of religious figureheads. Sitting against one wall was a table, covered in jewelry and a scattering of papers, and, against the farthest wall, near a large window adorned in purple drapes, was the largest bed that Jim had ever seen.

Jim walked to the table, searching for the ring, for the totem that would mark his success. But, while there were many rings that seemed to hold incredible value, there was none that fit his desired description. He moved then to the bed, tossing the pillows and blankets in search of hidden treasures, but found nothing but dust and yellowing sheets. A chest rested at the bed's foot, but, searching through the contents, Jim only found more papers and a few, motheaten cloaks.

As he stood, Jim felt the hairs on his neck rise as he heard a muffled click. The thief dove to the bedside as an explosion and the smell of gunpowder erupted in the room. Fiery heat radiated from Jim's shoulder where a bullet had pierced his flesh.

"Jimmy!" The voice of a man shouted, sounding far too delighted. "How unexpected to see you here!"

Jim knew the voice, knew the arrogant tones and the nauseating smell of tobacco. He'd had the displeasure of working with a man as vile as he was clever and as cruel as he was conniving, the same man who this voice belonged to.

"Floydd," Jim said, harshly, "you caught me by surprise, so I'll forgive your attack. But be smart about this. Me owing you a favor can be more valuable than any contract you'll ever accept."

"Oh, bargaining?" Floydd chuckled. "It's like you don't even know me, Jimmy! Like…like we aren't even friends."

Another gunshot rang through the suite and a pebbling of debris rained on Jim from the wall behind him.

"You know I'm a professional," Floydd continued, "and when I accept a job, I complete it. Now, why don't you peak that pretty Hero head of yours over the bed so we can be done with this?"

"This is a job?" Jim asked. "You're after a ring?"

"A ring?" Floydd said, bemused. "Oh, yes, the ring."

Floydd flicked something into the air, the object tumbling to where Jim was crouched. Jim picked up the onyx ring, an engraving of a phoenix covering its face. On the inside of the ring, a fine inscription read "The Death Killer, a true and living God".

"Most of us have wanted you dead for some time now, Jimmy." Floydd taunted. "But you are a slippery vermin. It took me a few years to set this all up, but my payment is well worth it. You're making me a near legend, Jimmy; killing a Hero is no small feat. Now, why don't we get this over with? It's time to accept your fate, stand up and…"

Jim stood suddenly and threw a knife at the arrogant bastard. Floydd's expression went from overconfident to surprised in an instant. Then, he began to smile. Tendrils of lightning sprouted from his waist, catching Jim's soaring blade and stopping it midair.

Now was Jim's turn to be surprised. A lightning belt? Where did he get a lightning...?

Floydd shot again, catching Jim in the side, the pain forcing him to fall backwards.

"Do you like it Jimmy?" Floydd taunted. "A small piece of my payment. A small piece of what your death is giving me." He lifted his gun and shot again.

Pain erupted from Jim's arm and his vision began to fade.

Floydd rushed to the fallen thief, lifting him by the throat and shoving him against the window. "Keep my place in Hell warm for me, Jimmy." Floydd placed the gun against Jim's chest and pulled the trigger.

The sound of gunfire and shattering glass became Jim's reality. He felt the sensation of falling and saw the distant stars as he fell from the Father Tower.

Be careful when you climb, Jim. Even one of us can die if we fall far enough.

Brisk wind flew by Jim as he fell, and the feeling of butterflies danced in his stomach. As he watched the Father Tower grow above him, he knew that the ground would meet him and end the life of the traitorous man. He closed his eyes, accepting his offering to Death.

Only…Death never came. Instead, when Jim opened his eyes, he found that the world had turned dark. No stars, no Father Tower, no death. Only falling, wind, pain, and the feeling of butterflies.