Thief of Souls

High Fantasy / 3500 words

PREFACE: In this story, the orphan thieves Thimmin and Kelle return. This time, they must help steal… a man’s soul? To be honest, this one turned out to be more focused on worldbuilding. Hope you’ll still enjoy it!

Rushing through the halls, they raced toward the window. It was only a few feet away, but it felt like it’d take forever to reach it. With a dozen guards chasing them, it was their only way out.

Obar Nuur lifted his right hand and, with all his strength, threw a dagger toward their target. The glass exploded in a thousand shards just as they reached the wall.

“Stop!” screamed a man’s voice.

Thimmin would have sworn it was just a breath away, but he dared not look back.

Instead, he jumped after the master thief, right through the opening, knowing Kelle would follow.

Looking down—because where else would he look?—he saw the Pool of Thraz, exactly where it was supposed to be.

They fell.

Thimmin flailed his arms and legs as he went down. He couldn’t help but panic. What if he missed the water? What if Kelle did?

He could feel his heart beating fast as everything around him moved in slow motion. He wished it was over already, yet dreaded the outcome.

His feet went in first, then his weight carried him further and he sank into the pool like a rock.

It only occurred to him then that he didn’t know how to swim. Panic gripped him as he flailed his arms again, this time trying to push himself upward.

Hands grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him toward the surface.

He came out with a rasp, spitting out water and blinking.

Automatically, his eyes shot upward, to the window they’d gone through. Four angry men were looking down at them, gesturing with their fists and swords.

Something caught his eye, higher above. He looked up.

The shadow hung above the roofs, staring down at them. It was the first time Thimmin saw it unmoving, yet still he could not see a face—only a blur of shifting darkness that weighed heavily upon his heart.

Then he blinked, and it was gone.

“You alright?” asked Kelle’s familiar but concerned voice.

He turned his head toward her and nodded with a small smile.

“I think so. I...” He paused, realizing they still were in the water, and blanched. “Oh no, no, no... How am I—”

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I won’t let go of you. Just hang on to me.”

He awkwardly—but gratefully—slid on her back, putting his arms around her neck.

“Not so tight!” she gasped.

“Oh, sorry.”

He released his grip a little as she began to swim. A few feet away, he saw Obar coming toward them.

“You two alright?” he asked as he reached them.

“As much as can be,” said Kelle as she continued toward the shore.

The master thief grinned. “We should hurry. It won’t take them long to send men after us. We had better be gone before they cross the Pool.”

Thimmin wasn’t sure why anyone would call this a ‘pool’—it really was more of a lake. An artificial one, of course, built within the wealthiest neighborhood in town, but still it spread across miles in every direction. Wasted space that could have been used to house so many of Salamandris’ homeless citizens...

But the Sidh did not care about such matters.

***

Not every thief in town was a member of the Guild, and very few children were. Aside from Thimmin and Kelle, there were only three others.

Idran Maluj was a small boy who always sat at the front. With short brown hair and a lisp in his voice, he came from a wealthy family who hoped he would rise through the ranks to rule over the Council.

Next to him was the bulky redhead Boerth Ullin. With a mischievous temper, he often teased Idran and played tricks on him. He was boisterous, sometimes obnoxious, and always unruly. His parents were of lower standing and hoped thieving would help better their condition.

Sitting in a dark corner—as he always did—Graydin Hanh listened with rapt attention to everything our mentors taught. He was thin, tall, and quiet—nobody had ever heard him say a word. When asked a question, he would shrug, or nod, or shake his head. Sometimes he’d make gestures to mimic an answer. Everyone concluded he was mute, and no one knew where he came from.

After escaping the guards, Thimmin and Kelle had returned to the Needle with Obar, where the fruit of their labor—a silver-bladed dagger dating from the founding of Vaeldur—had been entrusted to Master Syrus himself. They now sat at the back of the room, listening to Assila Luan’s presentation on the intricacies of Salimandran politics.

“Hey! Give that back!”

All eyes turned toward Idran, who held and pulled on Boerth’s wrist.

The redhead laughed.

Assila did not seem amused by the interruption.

“What is going on?” she asked coolly.

Without letting go, the small boy looked at the mentor, pointing at his neighbor with his free hand.

“He stole my ring!”

“It’s not yours,” argued Boerth with a smirk.

“It is! My father gave it to me.”

The mentor cut in.

“Do you have your ring on you now?” she asked. The boy shook his head. “Then how is anyone to know it belongs to you? Only what you can safeguard is truly yours. Now let go of your friend.”

Idran grudgingly did as he was told.

“And let this be a lesson to you,” she added. “If you are to succeed in life, you must learn to take what is not yours and to protect that which is. What kind of thief would you be if others stole from you?”

Boerth snickered as he rolled the ring between his fingers.

Assila turned to him.

“As for you,” she snapped, “you should learn that there is a code amongst us. One does not steal from a fellow thief. Nor should you disrupt classes again.”

The smirk froze on the redhead’s face. He blinked, then looked down. He did not give up the ring, but slid it into his pocket.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The mentor sighed, shaking her head.

“This is how it all started, you know.” She walked back to her desk. “It was petty theft that brought down the royals. Dagoth would truly rule today were it not for some of his ancestors who abused their power and oppressed the people. So the people rose, and while they could not completely remove the King—”

“Why not?” interrupted Boerth.

“Because only the royals master the magics which hold Salamandris together. Without them, we would have no sun. Without them, our city would plunge to the ground and crash upon the ruins of Vaeldur. There would only be ruins left of us then as well. So instead of removing the King, the people formed the Council of Sidh. Now the King is only a powerless figurehead.”

“Not so powerless if he controls the magics of the city,” said Kelle.

Assila smiled. “An astute remark. But, as often, it is not as simple as it looks. These are not magics that can be wielded, only contained. Dagoth is no mage. Keeping them under control is all he can do...”

“Surely, if he can do that, he could disrupt things as well.”

“Not without destroying the city—and himself in the process. And while he might not care about his own life, there are others with him he would not sacrifice. Besides, it would be a high price to pay for petty revenge. Those who deposed his ancestor are long dead. What good would it do anyone? In some ways, the current arrangement also serves him quite well, as it gives the King more freedom and fewer responsibilities.”

The mentor went on to discuss the responsibilities of the old Kings that now lay in the hands of the Sidh.

***

Syrus Toth waited for them in the Green Room—so named because of its moss-covered stone walls. It was always here that missions were assigned.

Another man sat next to him. White-haired with a scar under his right eye, Thimmin thought he might be in his fifties.

“This is Velas Olan,” said Syrus when they arrived. “You will assist him on his next mission.”

The older thief observed them quietly as they sat.

“What is it this time?” asked Kelle, looking between the two men.

“A delicate matter,” muttered Syrus. “The Brothers of the Faceless Gods have approached us about retrieving a soul.”

Thimmin straightened in his chair. “What?”

It was Velas who responded after clearing his throat.

“Our mark is one Aedon Vek. According to our spies, he is currently hiding in Vun Ebar—”

“We have spies?” asked Kelle.

Syrus snorted. “Velas has always had a tendency to overstate things. What we have, as you know, is a vast network of thieves spread across the city. It did not take long for one of our men to spot the mark.” He held up a hand to interrupt Thimmin when he saw the boy opening his mouth. “You should know better by now than to ask. Still, I shall satisfy your curiosity, as I feel it may serve you in this case. The mark used to be a member of the sect. Now that he has left, they claim it is a breach of contract, and that his soul belongs to them. They have hired us to retrieve it.”

Thimmin frowned. “Wouldn’t stealing a man’s soul kill him?”

Velas made a dismissive gesture. “That is not our concern.”

The boy hated when those types of arguments were made. He glanced at the girl who sat next to him and saw she wore a similar frown on her face.

“I think it should be,” she said. “We are no killers. That is not the Way of Yiis.”

Syrus clicked his tongue. “Would a man without his wealth survive long? Anything we take could lead to death. Whether it does or not hangs on other factors that are not our concern.” Again, he held out a hand to halt further debate. “Either way, it is a moot point. Know that taking a soul will not kill the mark, if that can appease you.” His expression hardened. “But you will need to rid yourselves of such misgivings. They will only hinder you in your work.”

“But how would one steal a soul?” asked Kelle.

“Leave that to me,” said Velas with a snicker.

***

Vun Ebar was the poorest neighborhood in Salamandris, but it also was where most thieves lived. Not because they couldn’t afford a better place, but because it was easier here to blend in and become invisible.

The alleys were narrow; the walls decrepit and stained; the cobbled roads riddled with holes; the people swarming, unwashed and unkempt...

Kelle was used to the stink but still wrinkled her nose in distaste. Just because she lived here didn’t mean she had to like it. She dreamed of succeeding in her work well enough to move out of these streets once and for all... maybe even move out of this city. She wanted to see the world below—to experience real water, mountains, forests... They had none of those here.

For hours they surveilled the building Aedon Vek had holed up in. Not knowing behind which door he hid had forced them to wait.

She felt someone tugging at her sleeve and turned to look at Thimmin.

“I don’t like this,” muttered the boy.

“You heard Syrus. It doesn’t matter how we feel about it. We have a job to do.”

Despite her words, Kelle didn’t like it any better. The mentors could say what they wanted, she still felt like this was wrong. Thinking back on all the missions they’d been on since they’d joined, she realized it was a more insidious issue. The Ways of Yiis were tainted. The Guild was not anymore what it used to be.

Assila had talked of the Code that prevented thieves from stealing from other thieves, but there was more to the Code than that. It was also about honor and respecting things that were worthy of respect—life, most of all.

Some of the oldest stories about Yiis told of how she had started taking from the rich so she could help the poor. That was the heart of the Code. But these values now seemed forgotten, replaced with greed and lust—lust for money and for power.

That’s not entirely fair, she mused. There were some, like Syrus, who still had honor. They were just misguided and blinded, failing to see how the Guild had strayed from the right path.

How could they miss it, though? It seemed so obvious to her. Even Thimmin could feel it.

If only Yiis would return—

Her thoughts were interrupted when their mark finally walked out of the building. They trailed him. The plan was to slowly get closer and jump him when he reached a less crowded part of the neighborhood.

But something went wrong.

Aedon must have sensed he was followed, because he suddenly froze, looked all around him, then dashed down a more crowded street.

Kelle cursed. She motioned for Thimmin to chase the mark while she raced through a side alley that would take her ahead. With a bit of luck, she could cut him off before he got too far.

She wasn’t sure where Velas was—she’d lost sight of him in the crowded streets. All she knew was that they needed to catch this guy, whether they liked it or not. The Guild needed to change—or, rather, to go back to its former glory—, that was a given... but this would not happen overnight. In the meantime, they would have to follow orders to not get kicked out.

Running through empty alleys, she jumped over carts, turned at dark corners, ducked under hook-hung fruits, until she finally burst back into the main street.

In truth, she had taken a slightly longer path. But because those alleys had been empty, it had allowed her to move much quicker than their mark, who would have been slowed down by the crowd.

She jumped on a stall—which prompted cries of outrage—and used protruding rocks to quickly climb up a small wall before anyone could stop her. From the top, she scanned all the faces passing by.

When she finally spotted Aedon, she dropped to the ground and hurried toward him. He saw her coming and sprinted. She leaped and reached out with her hand to grab his ankle, missing him by an inch.

“No!” she screamed. “Stop right there!”

Aedon ran a few feet before bouncing back, as if he’d hit a wall, and fell right next to Kelle.

Thimmin appeared, out of breath, and paused next to them. Velas came out of the crowd soon after. He glanced around, a concerned expression on his face. When he stopped, he looked down at their mark and frowned.

“What happened to him?”

Kelle was back on her feet now, wiping dust off her clothes.

“He got knocked down. Must have hit into someone.”

She couldn’t think of a better explanation. It had been so odd...

“Well, we had better take him somewhere else before people ask questions.”

Thimmin and Kelle grabbed the man under his arms and dragged him down the street while Velas guided them through small alleys and into an abandoned-looking building. They went up a flight of stairs and entered a large room with a lone chair. There was nothing else here—only dust and cobwebs.

Rummaging through his bag, Velas brought out a rope, which he tossed on the ground.

“Tie him up,” he commanded.

The two apprentices did as they were told, then took a few steps back.

“What are you going to do to him?” asked Thimmin.

Velas smiled as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Have you ever heard of the Soulwraiths?”

Kelle looked at the master thief with a puzzled expression. “Isn’t that some sort of sect?”

“Indeed, and a rather ancient one. They worship a cruel god named Uthar. But, most of all, they’ve mastered the art of capturing souls.” He paused. “I would know, for I once was one of them.”

He brought out an amulet from under his tunic. It was etched with a crescent moon pierced by a sword. He rubbed it a couple of times, muttering to himself, before extending a hand toward Aedon.

“This isn’t right,” whispered Thimmin while Velas carried on.

“It is not our call to make,” said Kelle with less conviction than when she’d given her previous response.

“You can’t believe Yiis would be okay with this...”

She didn’t. But what could two young apprentices do? It wasn’t like they had any say in anything.

“Someday,” she muttered, “we will be in a position to change things.”

Velas made a series of complex Gestures, and his voice became deeper.

A loud clatter came from the hall, and the door suddenly burst open. A flow of soldiers, wearing the King’s colors, poured into the room, swords drawn and pointed at them.

“In the name of His Majesty, cease immediately!” cried out a ranking officer.

A startled Velas stuttered and backed away from the blades, looking wildly about—but all points of retreat were cut off. Even the windows were blocked, as the soldiers had quickly spread out.

The master thief came back to his senses. He straightened and took an offended expression.

“What is this? Do you know who I am? I work for the Guild. We have an understanding—”

“The only thing I understand,” said the officer as he pointed toward the mark, “is that this man is to be brought unharmed before our King. And that is exactly what I intend to do.”

“But he is in our custody!”

The soldier moved within inches of Velas, holding his gaze.

“You clearly have a gross misunderstanding of the situation, sir. This is not a request. Either this man comes with us now, or you die. Which shall it be?”

Velas gulped. “Fine. But you will be hearing from the Guild...”

The other shrugged. “That is none of my concern.”

“What about us?” dared to ask Kelle.

The officer glanced at the girl, the boy, then back at the master thief. Shrugged again. “Our orders only concern this man.” He pointed at Aedon. “You are free to go.”

Soldiers made their way to the chair, untied the prisoner, and pulled him to his feet. Aedon’s eyes fluttered open. He looked confused as he was taken out.

Before they went through the door, Kelle saw Velas moving his fingers in a small Gesture that the officer never noticed.

Once they were all gone, the thief grinned as he tapped his amulet.

“Take that, you rotten pigs.”

***

Aedon Vek was wanted outside of Salamandris and Dagoth had yielded to pressure—without consulting the Sidh.

But Velas had completed the process with his final Gesture, and the man’s captured soul had been handed to the Brothers of the Faceless Gods—as contracted.

Thimmin was in the mess, discussing the affair with Idran, when he noticed his friend was wearing his ring again.

“Did Boerth give it back to you?” he asked in surprise.

The other boy looked down at his hand and smiled.

“No. No, he didn’t. It was Graydin. He brought it to me an hour after class. I’m not sure how he did it—he didn’t say a word.”

Of course he hadn’t. The boy was mute, after all.

Thimmin chuckled. “He must have stolen it back.”

They went on to talk about their two classmates. One of their favorite pastimes was to make up colorful background stories for Graydin. Sometimes he’d be the wayward son of a mage, other times a god in disguise, or an orphan cursed by a wicked witch.

On his way out of the Needle, Thimmin saw Syrus coming down the hall with a somber expression.

“What is wrong?”

“Everything,” grumbled Syrus. “That man, Aedon, he was a thief. That was why he was wanted. Had we only known...”

The man’s voice trailed off as he disappeared down the corridor.

When Thimmin reported this to Kelle, the girl threw her arms in the air.

“I knew this was all wrong!”

“We couldn’t have known...”

“This is why we should always ask questions!”

“We couldn’t have known,” repeated Thimmin. “Besides, taking his soul didn’t kill him. He could still walk when the soldiers escorted him out...”

“And that makes it alright?”

“Well, no, but—”

Kelle paced back and forth.

“I’m telling you, Thim, the Guild is no longer what it used to be. Yiis would not recognize what she built. It has been corrupted from the inside—by greed and by incompetence.”

The boy made a face. “Do you not want to be a thief anymore?”

“Of course I do!” she snapped. “Don’t be silly. We couldn’t have guessed what it had become unless we joined. But now...” She shook her head, thoughtful. “Something must change.”

“We are nobodies,” remarked Thimmin. “We can’t change anything.”

“Not now, but someday.” The girl sat on the edge of the roof, next to her friend. “I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I will save the Guild from itself.”

They fell quiet as they watched the clouds drifting under the city and the small black dots below—which they knew to be the ruins of Vaeldur.

Want to read more free stories? Check out:

• Salamandra Sun (the first Thimmin & Kelle adventure)

• The Waystation (a weird fantasy piece set in Paris)

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Text (c) 2022 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock images, edited by me.

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