Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (23 page)

Needless to say, the area was crawling with security as
though someone had kicked an anthill. After dark, everything would be covered
in blackness, and the guards’ attention could easily be drawn to movement as
the starlight glanced off the curves of the human figure. The evening shadows,
with their mottled transitions from light to dark, helped to disguise the
burglar better than the near absolute darkness of night. As Rezkin approached
one side of the bank, the air buzzed with the power of mage wards.

The bank was surrounded on all sides by streets and was
inaccessible by the roof unless someone could manage to scale the smooth stone
walls. Even then, it would have been virtually useless since the slate tiles on
the roof were secured both by mundane cement and mage bonds. No windows were
located on the first floor, nor the third floor. The only windows were located
where the second floor would have been had there been a second floor. In fact,
there was no second floor, only an open space over the first with a twenty-foot
drop to the ground. In addition, the second floor windowsills were warded to
repel anything that came within a foot of them.

Rezkin stood in the shadow of a carved figure of a lion (
Rule
57 – Remain in the shadows when possible
) as one of the guards passed
by on his patrol. It was likely that several of these guards possessed some
amount of
talent
. Guarding the Golden Trust Bank of Justain would be a
coveted position with both high honor and pay. Low-level mages specializing in
wards and security would be ideal candidates. Although he lacked the
talent
,
the young warrior was trained to deal with such obstacles. Therefore, he was in
compliance with
Rule 47 – Have the necessary
Skills
for the
task.

After the roaming guard passed, Rezkin sprinted to the
covered alcove in front of the building. A stationary guard stood approximately
ten paces from him, but the man was looking away from the building watching for
anyone coming toward it rather than someone who was already within the
perimeter. Ironically, the best plan at this juncture was to simply walk through
the front door.

Approaching from the shadows, Rezkin sensed the buzz of
energy surrounding the entrance. The ward was strong, and he had the sense that
it was intended to discourage anyone from approaching. If that failed, it would
incapacitate the target and alert security officials. Rezkin had no intention
of being caught, though (
Rule 117 – Do not get captured
). He
focused his mind and pushed his
will
at the ward. Although he had no
power of his own, he had been instructed in such techniques, a
Skill
that
had been difficult to master. Magic, or the
talent
, was all about
will.

He had only another minute or two until the next roaming
guard came into view. With his
will
focused, Rezkin pressed his hands
through the invisible ward, the crawling tingles of power shuddering up his
arms. Sliding the thin needles into the lock, he manipulated the complex
mechanism with expert efficiency. The bolt slid from its niche with a soft
clunk
that sounded like thunder in the quiet night. Without delay, the intruder nudged
the door open just wide enough to allow him to slip through, shutting and
bolting the door behind him.

The greatest challenge in this situation was the constant
focusing of his
will
on the wards. The bank was drenched in so many
spells, Rezkin had no idea how the mages kept them from unintentionally
interacting. With his
will
focused, the intruder passed over, around and
through the wards and enchantments, each one sliding over his skin leaving his
flesh tingling and jittery.

The mundane, or non-
talent
-based, security was
surprisingly poor inside the bank. Considering all they had to protect, he
found it presumptuous that they did not bother with posting any guards within
the building; but perhaps they wanted to avoid problems resulting from guards
tangling with the wards. This was always an issue with the upper class, though.
They were too dependent on their spells and enchantments, fully expecting them
to stop intruders. It was a weakness of which Rezkin intended to take full
advantage.

The cavernous first floor was relatively empty with only a
few desks and chairs aligned neatly along the tiled floor. The intruder passed
these by without concern and made his way up the winding staircase. The wards
were particularly strong here, almost as if he was pushing through water rather
than air. Still, his
will
was strong, the hardest steel tempered with a
lifetime of training in which failure was painful and unacceptable.

The massive vault door at the top of the stairs was composed
of a singular carved slab of granite, which sat atop an even more massive stone
pillar built into the structure of the building. Presumably, the heavy granite
door could only be moved by one with the
talent
who knew the proper
spell structure, perhaps even an incantation. Rezkin had none of these, and he
had no intention of opening the door.

While the bank proprietors were abundantly concerned with
the security of the vault, and they
did
overly depend on the wards to
protect it, the Bankers’ Guild members were equally concerned with their own
comfort. For this reason, Rezkin would be able to go through the wall. The
bank, like many of the more costly constructions, had a basement in which
resided a boiler. During colder months, the boiler heated water that was pumped
under the floor of the building. The heat would rise through the stone tiles
keeping the lower level warm. In addition, hot air was vented through a conduit
in the central wall of the building providing heat for both the upper and lower
levels. This central wall happened to be the front wall of the vault. That
meant the central wall was hollow, having only one set of stones on each side
of the empty conduit.

Having come prepared, Rezkin set to work with a small hammer
and chisel, quietly tapping out the grout between the stones in the wall beside
the vault door. Since no one was in the bank, it was unlikely anyone would hear
him, but he still paused every so often to listen for any signs of another’s
presence.

The young warrior pried out the last stone from a gap just
large enough for him to squeeze through. In all, he had only to remove six
stones to accommodate his muscular frame and armor. Once through, he leaned
over the deep conduit, which ran the length of the wall all the way to the
basement level, a drop of at least forty feet, and began prying at the stones
in the inner vault wall. The work was tedious and required him to lean over in
such a way that even his well-developed muscles began to ache.

Finally finished with the stone removal, Rezkin carefully
slipped through one gap, over the conduit, and into the vault beyond. The
intruder pulled a thumb-sized mage stone from his pocket. Held in the palm of
his hand, the stone released a soft blue glow, its light bright enough to
illuminate the room but not so much that it would have traveled far had there
been any windows.

The vault was comprised of three rooms in all, one in the
center and another branching from each side. Each was about the size of an
average sitting room, and heavy wooden doors, complete with large locks and
massive bolts, blocked entrance to the two side rooms. Rezkin was not
interested in the other two rooms, which contained all the wealth and treasures
of the bank. His object of interest was in the central room where he stood.
This was the room that contained the safe deposit boxes and was the only room
accessible to bank patrons during banking hours.

A large oak table sat in the center of the vault, upon which
someone had conveniently left the vault ledger. After flipping through the
ledger, Rezkin finally found record of the safe deposit box that belonged to
Urek –
Urek
with no family name because he had been excommunicated
from his House. After that, it was a simple matter of picking the warded lock
on the box and removing its contents, which consisted of not one, but two
letters. The first, as expected, was addressed to Lillian’s family. The second
was addressed to a Lord Montaq, Count of Vesterfield in the Kingdom of Sandea.

Pocketing the letters, Rezkin locked the box and then
shuffled through a few of the other boxes belonging to persons of interest,
spying but not taking anything. The intruder surveyed the room to make sure no
evidence of his presence was left behind and then retreated back through the
holes he had made in the walls. He very carefully replaced the stones and
resealed them with grout made from local sources so that it would match the
rest of the wall. By morning, it would be dry and no one would be able to tell
the stones had been removed. Sweeping the floor with a small horsehair brush,
he removed the ruined grout, pocketing it in a small sack for disposal.

Eventually, someone might note the difference in the grout
on the inside of the vault, since he could not stay in the room to smooth it,
but such fine details were often overlooked when no one would even consider
that someone might have gone through the
wall
. The bank proprietors
would know the vault had been breached and something had been taken. Vaults
such as this had enchantments that kept count of the number of items stored
within at all times. Rezkin could have left behind a couple of blank parchments
to make up for the difference in number, but he wanted it known that someone
had succeeded in stealing from the Golden Trust Bank, particularly during this
time when the city’s thieves’ guilds were being overtaken by a mysterious
overlord.

Rezkin made his way out of the bank in similar fashion to
his entrance, relocking the front door as he left. It was full dark, now, and
he had to take extra care to avoid the spying eyes of the guards patrolling the
perimeter. For someone who had grown up avoiding detection by the elite
strikers, going unnoticed by these guards was simple. The warrior was vigilant
and kept in mind
Rule 9 – Never underestimate your opponents
. He
would not be foiled by a careless mistake.

The warrior-thief paused only long enough to read the
letters he had retrieved from the vault, careful to avoid breaking the wax
seals. The first was the expected confession regarding the marquis’ daughter
and her whereabouts. The second was of little consequence to him at this time,
but may be of some use in the future.

It was time to take care of the current problem. The warrior
did not have far to travel. The marquis’ estate was only half a dozen blocks
from the bank. He did not go to the marquis’ room, instead entering the
chambers of his son, Ruald. The window opened into the man’s sleeping chamber,
but Rezkin could hear the man speaking to someone in the sitting room beyond.
The door was slightly ajar, so Rezkin peered into the occupied room to see that
Ruald was speaking to his manservant. Apparently, the marquis wanted his son to
attend to some business that the younger man found distasteful.

Rezkin had only to wait a few moments before the manservant
left. Ruald saw the older man to the door and then barred it from the inside.
He sighed heavily as he leaned forward and rested his head against the polished
wood. When Ruald finally straightened and turned around, an intruder was
leaning casually by his hearth as though he had been there all night. Ruald
jumped back with a choked cry.

“What! Who are you? How did you get in here?” he stammered.

Rezkin inwardly groaned. If
he
had turned around to
find a heavily armed, hooded figure standing behind him, the last thing he do
would be to pause for a chat. These outworlders had somehow grown to big-men
and -women, but they had not learned the
Rules
and
Skills
as they
should have.

Ensuring his face was hidden both by cowl and silhouette,
Rezkin growled, “Please, have a seat, Lord Addercroft. We have business to
discuss.”

Ruald’s eyes darted to the door, and he looked as if he
would run. The intruder casually patted the hilt of a sword at his hip. The
young lord swallowed hard and shifted anxiously. “Ruald,” he croaked. After
clearing his throat he repeated. “It’s Ruald. Addercroft is my father. Everyone
just calls me Lord Ruald.”

Rezkin waved a hand dismissively and said, “A small matter
that will be remedied shortly. Please, sit down. I would not have you passing
out and striking your head.”

Ruald shook off the wave of dizziness that had overcome him
in his fright and straightened his spine. With a lift of his chin he replied,
“I do not take orders from you, and I assure you my constitution is of stronger
stuff. What do you want? Have you come to kill me? I will not go quietly, if
that is your wish.” This last he said with resolve as his hand grazed his own
sword hilt.

The intruder cocked his head curiously. Rezkin was glad to
see that Ruald was not so easily cowed. It gave him hope for his cause. “No, I
am not a threat to you. Quite the opposite, actually. But, we
do
have
important business to discuss, and I am afraid we have little time. Perhaps you
would care for a drink to steady yourself?” Rezkin would never imbibe enough to
feel its effects, nor would he do so in a situation such as this, but he had
been instructed that many outworlders seek such comfort to steady their nerves
in stressful situations.

The young lord scowled and said, “I do not need steadying.
What I need is for you to leave here immediately. You have come into my home
uninvited and now make demands of my time.”

“I am sure that was quite rude of me,” the intruder replied,
“but once you hear the nature of my visit, I think you will agree that it is
best kept between us.”