The Princess of Thieves

The quest was simple: seek and destroy.

Rana Leyin was sentenced to death. Her many crimes, including theft, assault, and alleged murder, had earned her a hefty bounty. Having escaped the Templars' justice, she dwelled in the Wilds, her band of brigands harassing and robbing innocent merchant caravans, helping themselves to luxuries, leaving the caravaneers with only the necessities of survival. To make matters worse, she buys the good will of the populace by showering them with gifts, purloined from helpless merchant princes. The poor, easy to sway with trinkets (and, you know, food), actually defend her, openly calling for clemency, and aiding and abetting her and her band's mad exploits, some even joining her wicked band, contributing to her menace directly.

And so, the merchant Amir Al-Ahar had an idea. If she was so willing to recruit from the cities, perhaps a mercenary could make their way into her band, earn her trust, then betray her from within. This Judas would ideally be down on his luck--an ex-slave, for instance--with significant skills in second-story work, and preferably assassination. She's no fool, so they couldn't be anyone with a reputation, but they had to be someone who could get the job done.

Fearing the rumor mill, Al-Ahar visited the guilds in person, and met with guild leaders, seeking an ideal candidate before making an official job posting. Vis was perfect--an escaped slave, branded with evidence of his past, and with a skillset that would make him an ideal infiltrator. The guildmaster was hesitant to send him on such a dangerous mission, but the pay was good, and the job was too perfect to pass up. With the quest officially posted--in the most obfuscated way possible--Vis accepted the job, and set out to find Rana Leyin.

So eager was Al-Ahar to see the job done, he offered a "bait" caravan, a small shipment of moderately-valuable goods, poorly guarded. In fact, the official quest was simply a caravan escort, but the real goal was to get Vis into the band. The caravan was deliberately routed through her territory, and was sure to attract her. The caravaneers were instructed to surrender willingly, and beg for mercy, hoping to appeal to her generosity, and thus gain entry into the band. It wasn't stated, but Vis could tell that they, too, were plants, off-the-book mercenaries meant to add muscle to the inevitable battle. It was obvious this was about more than a bounty; Al-Ahar was spending big, and Vis expected more surprises in store.

The gambit worked as planned. The caravan was attacked, and token resistance offered, before they surrendered to the obviously superior force. The band was more than happy to take the goods, and the prisoners, and they were brought to their hideout, a cave system in the nearby mountains. Vis was immediately put to work, helping to unload the caravan, and then brought before Rana for her inspection. Stripped of any weapons, and guarded by a few of her most trusted lieutenants, she scrutinized him, trying to determine if he was a threat, or if he had any useful skills. His old skillset served him well, even as he tasted the bile of his old life along with his words. He lied, appealing to her obvious inclinations. It wasn't all lies, of course; he had many tales to tell of his time as a slave, his tenure in a thieves' guild, and his up-and-down experience in a guild. One of the thieves recognized him from the arena, and he used it as an opportunity to undersell his combat prowess, pointing out that he mostly hid behind a far superior warrior. Rana was skeptical, but optimistic, and welcomed him into the band.

That night, there were festivities. Nothing in particular was being celebrated; apparently this was just every night for them. A merry bunch, they drank and sang and danced. Their little oasis was comfortable, if spare; the cavern featured a small pool of slightly funny-smelling water, which was not safe to drink, but used for bathing--and there was plenty of that. He got lost in their merriment, and found himself enjoying the company of these outlaws, almost enough to forget what he intended to do.

Simply offering his loyalty wasn't enough to earn Rana's trust. He had to prove himself, and so he was put to work, scouting the nearby roads for potential targets. The contract gave plenty of time--weeks or more--to build the necessary trust and find the right opportunity. After the first caravan raid went well, he was given more responsibility, and allowed to lead scouting missions. Having proved himself in battle with a band that refused to surrender easily, he was finally trusted with weapons again. Rana warmed to him, and one night, after a few too many drinks, she offered him her bed. And if he wasn't sure how conflicted he was before, he was now. He tried to resist, but couldn't think of a good reason to refuse. He even tried to claim he was not interested in women, but his body betrayed him. To his shame, he gave in to temptation, and they spent the night together. He was certain he'd be unable to fulfill the contract, but didn't want to lose the guild. The only ways out were betraying her, or becoming an outlaw himself.

He didn't have much time to ponder it. In the early hours before dawn, the band was attacked. Panic set in as the half-drunk, disorganized band found themselves assailed by the undead. Horror followed, when they realized that the creatures were their own fallen comrades, risen from the burial site just outside the cave. Vis had seen this magic worked before, and knew who was likely behind it. Black Heart adventurers, likely working their own quest, had come in force. Prudence, one of their most powerful necromancers, easily piloted her swarm, and devastated the band's defenses. Vis and Rana made a last stand with a few of her most capable remaining lieutenants, but the Black Heart was too strong, too prepared. When Rana saw the inevitable, she called out in surrender.

The "merchants" who'd been taken prisoner gleefully explained they were in fact mercenaries, and on the Black Heart's side. Skeptical, the adventurers queried Rana, who confirmed they weren't with her. Satisfied, Black Heart executed them on the spot. "We're only here for you and your band," Prudence explained. "And he isn't one of them," she added, pointing at Vis. "He's here to ferret you out."

Vis grimaced, trying to explain the situation, but the Prudence took too much delight in watching him squirm. "Thank you for your service," she offered in a saccharine tone, "your intelligence was invaluable." Rana looked to him in horror, but he tried to explain.

"She's lying. I didn't...I'm not working with them. Yes, I was hired to-"

Rana just turned away, and faced the Black Heart. "If you're here to kill us, just get on with it." She tightened her grip on her weapon, but Prudence just laughed.

"Oh no, we're not so lucky. Unfortunately our employer insists on bringing you in alive. I'm sure he has all kinds of exciting plans for you." The undead, now joined by more of the recently fallen, encircled them, and at her direction, several of them approached with fetters. There were far more corpses than living on the battlefield, and it gave Vis an idea--a mad, mad idea.

It was a technique he'd heard of, never even so much as seen done. He understood the principle, knew the right signs and words, but it was hubris to imagine he could pull it off here and now, especially under such pressure. And even before that, he'd have to get close. Time to put that silver tongue to work.

"Listen, Prue," he said, casually advancing toward her, sheathing his weapon. "You've got your contract, I've got mine. Why throw away perfectly good money? We can both collect, and I'll give you half of my take. What do you say?" He offered her a hand, and she narrowed eyes in suspicion. "Come on, it's 300 more, and you don't have to deal with any fallout from Lumi."

His was an ancient magic, as much about words and signs as any other, but requiring no supernatural force--just a winning smile and uncanny charisma. He could tell she was warring with her better judgment, but her greed won. "600," she countered, extending her own hand. "On your guild's honor."

He made a show of wincing, trying to come up with the words, glancing at the battlefield, gulping a little as he realized he had no real leverage. "And my life?"

"Keep your worthless life, I only want coin," she sneered. He sighed dejectedly, taking her hand, while his other flashed the ancient signs. He felt magic in her touch, and didn't know at first if he'd succeeded, or if that's just what touching her was like. It was cold, like a toothache, echoing through his bones. It felt like his arm was dying, and it was advancing further. He wondered if she'd cursed him, took the opportunity to cast a death spell, or even one to turn him undead.

But the magic obeyed his will. In his hand, he held her power, stolen through her touch. And that power was to control the dead. He spoke words he didn't know, made signs he'd never seen, and pushed with all his will against the many undead she commanded, using the very spell she'd been using to control them. He had no idea how to command them--he'd not heard her give any orders, yet they did her bidding regardless--so he focused on something he understood well: the urge to break free from bondage, to strike back at their creator.

"Freedom," he spoke, in an ancient tongue he'd never learned. And the pale green light in their eyes changed to a bright red, and they turned on their mistress. They weren't under his control, or hers--they were just ghouls now, doing what ghouls do.

Thankfully, Rana was still near her weapon, and took the first opportunity as her captors paused in their momentary confusion. She already had her weapon back as the nearest ones turned to her, more interested in her flesh than her capture. But far more descended on Prue and her goons, and her panic was clear as she struggled to think of a spell that would actually hurt them, rather than make more of them. Vis didn't know it at the time, but having two competing control spells in their minds meant nobody could control them, and far from re-asserting her control with a fresh casting, she'd have to dispel her own, putting them solidly under his control. Not wanting to risk it, she mounted an escape, sacrificing lesser minions to buy her time.

No more interested in honor, Vis did the same, using his newfound knowledge of the cavern's layout to seek an exit, after first helping Rana break free from the line. They fled, with monsters close behind, until the traps they knew to avoid closed on their pursuers. Their exit took them into the heights overlooking the oasis, from where they could see Prudence's flight. She'd brought a mount--as undead as her ghouls, but seperately bound and still loyal. With its long legs, she outran the pursuers.

And shortly after, the strangest thing happened (well, strange to a non-necromancer). They all stopped in their tracks. It took a while to work up the nerve to approach them and test their loyalty, but Vis found he was safe among them. He found they could obey simple commands, spoken in the languages they knew. And he knew what to do.

They gathered what tools they could, and used their hands for the rest, digging fresh graves for the newly-fallen. When those were done, the members of her band climbed into their final rest, and the remaining ghouls made from the Black Heart goons buried them. Through tears, with what relish she could muster, Rana beheaded the goons at last, ending their service.

The band was decimated. There was no merriment, no music, no dancing. Rana had her life, but she'd lost everything else. He didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to talk. She just wanted to be alone with her grief, and so they stayed in silence for a while, until she finally broke it, near to evening.

"I have something I want you to use."

He perked up, glad to hear her voice again, but concerned at the implication. She said nothing more, as she descended into the cavern toward her private chest. There was a bit of cash in there, some trinkets, and a black blade--obsidian, but expertly chiseled into near-perfect form.

"I stole this from an assassin who'd come to claim me. He-" she chuckled lightly "told me he'd suck out my soul and keep it in the blade. I said that sounded pretty valuable, and I'd take it from his corpse." She held the blade, considering it's perfect edge, its unnatural darkness. Then she extended it Vis, hilt-first.

"Collect your prize."

He didn't have words, and certainly not after she shot him a look of fresh pain, loss, and betrayal. This was his only chance at redemption, he knew, even as much as it seemed a yet deeper betrayal.

"I don't want my soul to be fed to a demon. I don't want to be made an example of by the Templars. I don't want to fight anymore." She took his hands and pressed the hilt into them, positioning its edge at her heart, her face close to his. "Just take me somewhere beautiful."

The physical effort was hers, but he could feel the magic requiring his will to work. She pushed forward, kissing him even as the blade kissed her heart, effortlessly penetrating her flesh. It was her final request, and there was no time to argue. He unleashed the magic, and felt her life force drain into the blade. All that was truly her, all she'd done, all she'd meant, all she'd loved and lost, was in that blade now, glowing faintly from within its darkness. Her body was just a husk, a memory of a once vital, beautiful life.

There were plenty of mounts and wagons in camp. He dared not take too much back, lest he invite raids on his own caravan, but a single crodlu could wing them back to Tyr before dawn, with her body and a few tokens in tow.

In the morning, he delivered her to Al-Ahar, who seemed quite surprised to see either of them. He stammered briefly, putting two and two together, and loudly congratulated him on a job well done. He handed over the promised payment, and even offered a bonus for the unexpected success. Vis accepted the money, but declined the bonus, asking instead for a favor. The merchant was skeptical, but Vis clarified, "bury her somewhere beautiful".

Perhaps it was a tiny glimmer of humanity, perhaps fear, as Al-Ahar must have assumed Vis overcome the entirety of her band and the other guild he'd sent, but he nodded in assent. "It is enough to know the threat is gone. The thief is dead, the woman can rest in peace."

Vis left him with a map to the hideout, with all his (and other merchants') lost goods marked on it, and set out for one final errand.

Kicking in the doors of their gothic, edgy guild hall, Vis was met with silence and stares. Eyes peered at him from the gloom, some behind death masks, others with faces obscured by hoods. Black Heart more than lived up to its name, at least in terms of decor.

Prudence was there, in the midst of a heated argument with her guildmaster, but she stopped mid-sentence when she saw him, angrily striding forth. "Looks like this goose knows when he's cooked, lads," she spat. "Made it easier for us to-"

He wordless held out the bag, containing all 600 coins. She paused, taken aback, her goons who were about to stand with her now looking at each other awkwardly, awaiting her word.

"Guild's honor," Vis breathed, his eyes locked her, his expression dead. She considered her options, and carefully accepted the bag. He simply turned and walked away.

"This isn't over!" she shouted behind him, but he didn't look back. Likely, she told the truth. Demon's Hand might hold to honor, but her guild didn't care a wit for it, and she'd lost face in her defeat. Worse, her precious magic had been literally stolen from her, and she couldn't know what other secrets he'd somehow snatched from her mind (spoiler: none, but she didn't know how his magic worked). But he was satisfied, having seen the fear and doubt in her eyes.

Later, he confided in Lumi about the whole sordid affair. He knew nothing of soul magic, but could swear the blade held a presence that felt unaccountably like the woman he'd known so briefly, but so well. Lumi confessed she was no necromancer herself, and likely there was no way to undo what was done, but there was one thing they could do.

That night, they took the blade to the garden. As dawn began to peer through the dark, she worked a spell, and bade him to command the blade to release her spirit. It did as he commanded, and the spirit of Rana Leyin was released from the blade. Guided by Lumi's magic, she merged into the earth, and from it emerged a beautiful tree, whose flowers were unlike any other. He felt her essence within, and her calm, as she tasted the sun for the first time, finally free.