Redemption

Redemption

Splash! The wagon wheel crashed through one of the many potholes in the cobblestone streets of the dock quarter, or Gutfish Alley as the local fishermen preferred to call it. It had earned the nickname long ago for the long troughs built along the road, and in between the ramshackle buildings the men used as boathouses and homes. Several times a day the streets were doused with buckets of water to wash the blood, scales, and fish guts into the troughs and out to the sea, to the army of gulls waiting for a midday feast. The fishing fleet of Lucaras City rivaled the great fleet of the capital city, The City of the Crescent Moon, in size, but the fishermen of Lucaras City did not enjoy the luxuries bestowed upon those working hard to decorate the King's table. Rigorous labor in grimy conditions left those working the docks and fishing fleets smelling of the sea and fish to such an extent that it seemed they could never be free of it. As a result, it was only the rare Captain who was invited to the noble court for festivities. Often new hires to the fishing fleet were said to be 'banished to Gutfish Alley.' Fetid water festooned with slime and fish guts showered the already drenched young man and cursing, he turned to see the crooked smiles of Kinten the Bull and Adom Rhynn laughing back at him. The two men from the Porter's Guild thoroughly enjoyed tormenting the young man, and it seemed that today would be no exception.

"You missed a spot, Fishboy!" Kinten said laughing as they continued past him.

When he had been assigned the docks to work as his daytime cover, the talented young man had rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. He knew that too much time spent on the docks would not only bring an end to his nightly forays into the parties and undergarments of the local nobles' daughters. But also seriously hamper his ability to come and go unnoticed, and melt into the shadows as if he were one with them. He had discovered this ability at an early age, and it had saved his life more than once growing up as a street urchin and lightfinger for the Underfoot Gang. The name had been given to the street boys to separate them from the more dangerous and violent activities of the adults around them, but the Hand had always found the name slightly condescending.

"Make sure you wash up before the card game tonight, Fishboy!" Kinten called out as they rolled away.

Adom said nothing to the angry young man, but quietly watched him as the cart moved on. The Hand had learned long ago that any reaction would only make the situation worse, but he couldn't help tightening his fists around the handle of the deck brush he used to guide the water and fish entrails into the waiting troughs. Apparently, Adom Rhynn was satisfied with that as he folded his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the wagon with a smug grin.

"Don't let them get to you, Shad" said a melodic voice from behind him.

The Hand of the Shadows turned to see his longtime elven friend, and mentor, Aron Solandril standing behind him, casually leaning up against a stack of crates. The fact that he was spotlessly clean in his extravagant clothing, despite being in the path of the splashing water, was not lost on the young thief.

"You're not the one that's going to have to scrub his skin off tonight." The Hand shot back in annoyance.

The familiar use of his given title as a full member of the Clan didn't bother The Hand of the Shadows. He didn't have a given name to prefer. Most of the people who knew him called him by the nickname. In any case, it was infinitely better than the name given to him by Koruush, the half-orc leader of the bully squad. His only name was "boy" as a child until the fearless youth had tried to steal the burly half-orc's coin purse as practice before his first assignment into the crowded plaza of Market Square. He received a strong backhand and a new nickname for his efforts. Koruush had called him 'Sproguul', or wraith child in the orcish language, and it was the only name the Hand truly despised.

"Don't you have some noble's wife to be charming or something?" The Hand continued. "You must have something better to do than hang around this slime hole."

"As a matter of fact, I do... Lady DeMoor and I have a luncheon date, and I would hate to deprive her of my company," Aron said casually as he reached into his cloak to take something off his belt. With a subtle flick, he tossed a small flask to his slime-covered friend. "Five drops in your bath will do, no more. We wouldn't want to melt the flesh from your bones." He said with a smile. "By the way.. how ever did you get so lucky as to draw the dock quarter for your assignment?" he asked innocently.

"You know damn well that pig fucker set me up for this." The Hand replied, referring to his bitter rival.

The half-orc Koruush stood over six and half feet tall and was layered with corded muscles inherited from his orc father. Orcs are brawny humanoids with tusked mouths and considered unattractive by any human standard, they often have a slightly piggish cast to their features. What they generally lack in intelligence they make up for in strength and ferocity. If rumors were to be believed, his mother's company was assaulted by a band of orcs while out on a day trip and the brute's father took far more than money and gold. They had left her there to die, and maybe it would have been better if they had killed her surely and swiftly with an axe. The act of birthing the monstrous baby nine months later had killed the poor woman in a far more gruesome fashion. Wanted by neither the humans nor the orcs, Koruush had fought for his life from the first by chasing rats for food and killing anything that tried to harm him. It was that skill and ferocity that won him rank after rank within the thieves' guild of Lucaras City. Any brute, thug, neckbreaker, or enforcer answered Koruush, and none dared challenge his leadership.

"Well, the Council did request a talented man with a sharp eye on the docks, and Koruush said you would be perfect for the job. You should take it as a compliment!" Aron said smiling in his most disarming fashion. "I suggested Osrik Liek.. 'He has better hands by far, and is twice as smart' I argued, but alas.. they couldn't be swayed."

"Yes well, at least you tried." The Hand replied sardonically, looking most unimpressed at his friend's humor.

Aron was a freelance agent and ran high-security missions for several members of the council. As such he was allowed to attend meetings and have an opinion on Clan matters, but his was not a voice that carried as much weight as the ruling thief lords. The Hand knew his friend had likely not said anything at all, and was just having some fun with him.

"No really.. Osrik is very talented! Well, for a human anyway." Aron moved to pat his friend on the shoulder with his parting joke, then retracted it shortly before making contact. With a poorly hidden look of disgust, he started away. "I'm off to see what I can tickle off the Lady DeMoor this week, my friend! Remember.. no more than 5 drops in your bath, that stuff will eat your face off if you breathe it in too deep!"

The Hand looked down at the mess covering his body and noted the position of the sun with a sigh. By the time he finished his shift, he doubted that anything would get him clean again.

***

The muffled noise from the tavern greeted them before the two thickly cloaked men got to the heavy wooden door, and it turned into a small roar as the door creaked open. The pungent odor of pipe smoke and stale beer wafted from the tavern and seemed for a moment to fight against the tangy salt air of a sudden ocean breeze. Smells from the tavern's generous kitchen mingled with the other aromas coming out of the door, along with the ripe, stale sweat stink of fighting men. A faded sign depicting an anchor and a rippling sailcloth swung in protest on salt-rusted chains. The sound vainly tried to penetrate the gloomy, fog-shrouded evening.

The Hand turned to look at his friend. "Looks like another rowdy crowd."

"I expect it will be an evening to remember!" Aron replied cheerfully. Aron Solandril was renowned throughout the Kingdom as a traveling performer. His skills with the lute were legendary, and he was invited with great eagerness to the courts and homes of nobles throughout the land. If they knew that he was also one of the best thieves and con artists in Lucaras City, it might not be enough to sway their desire to see him play. "Relax and enjoy the moment for once.. you know this place is safer than the King's own bedchamber!"

The Hand of the Shadows grunted noncommittally and moved to walk into their haven. The Anchor & Sail was a popular tavern on the dockside of Lucaras City, and the glow from the fire was especially inviting on cold nights. It was owned and operated by Tobias Vane, a former mercenary and pirate on the Sea of Gold. Vane had been the first mate for the legendary pirate Captain William Gray and was as tough and weather-beaten as the mast he sailed under. He was a fair man but gruff, and quick to remind most of his customers that they were still puppies sucking on their momma's tit, while he was out hijacking trade ships from the lands of Shaddura, and Shang Li'An. No longer a fighting man, the still formidable old pirate operated his bar with a quick wit and a strong work ethic. Shortly after buying the tavern, Tobias discovered that it sat on one of the secret entrances into the maze of underground tunnels beneath the streets of Lucaras City.

The city suffered from a massive fire when it was still young, and the parts of the old city that survived along the coast were built over to make the city as it is seen by most commoners today. The nest of tunnels controlled by the thieves guild encompassed the cities' extensive sewer pipes, and the Old Underground along the eastern edge of the city, nearest the ocean. Expansion efforts under the direction of Clan leaders tapped into a system of caves stretching along the coast to the south of the great city, but most of this section is still being explored. Tobias Vane had long ago forged a deal with the powerful Clan members to use his tavern as an entrance to their secret base and hideout, the Sanctuary. His one stipulation to the arrangement was that no guild member would steal from, or harm another of the Clan on the premises, or ever bring harm to anyone on his staff. Over the years this evolved into a general peace agreement and has created one of the safest places in the city, filled with its most dangerous citizens.

Several men already sat at the table reserved near the fireplace for the weekly game of Princes Over Bones or Bloody Draw. The two friends recognized the forms of Koruush, Kinten the Bull, and Adom Rhynn among them, and started moving towards the table. Tobias Vane marked the two men as soon as they entered and nodded to the oldest of his two daughters. Rasyna Vane was a lovely girl who took after her mother and shared her merry hazel eyes and quick laugh. Her long auburn tresses were pulled back into a ponytail, but her wild mane appeared to be fighting the constraint already. Her habit of blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face while she busily managed orders had become a source of amusement for many of the tavern patrons. The beautiful young Rasyna also shared her mother's passion for amazing food, and her plump form and ample bosom were treasured by many. Rasyna had become quite deft at evading grasping hands with arms full of food or empty platters. Her joyous laugh and sparkling eyes always managed to assuage any hurt caused by her constant denials. Always, Rasyna would be quick to point an amorous suitor towards one of the regular tavern girls, there to service the hardworking men. As soon as she sighted the two men she began to lightheartedly shoo patrons away from the table reserved for entertainment, who all happily obliged the popular performer. While Aron Solandril hung his cloak near the fire and began unpacking his instruments, The Hand made his way to the card table and found a seat next to the Kinten the Bull and the mercenary leader, Char Dragonblade.

“Welcome lad.” Char had always been amiable for a hardened fighting man, and The Hand liked the easygoing warrior. The Dragon's Blade mercenary company was well renowned for its willingness to take on any job if it paid well enough.

“Yes, welcome Fishlad... you're late.” Kinten's derision seemed right on cue, and The Hand barely paid it any heed.

“Deal me in.” The Hand replied, looking toward Adom Rhynn, who held the deck.

Across the table, Ridgley Calamane nodded to the young thief but otherwise kept his usual stoic demeanor. The Calamanes were one of the richest families in the Kingdom, but the lastborn Calamane, Ride as he was known to his friends, detested the extravagant and indulgent lifestyle. The young fighter had come to Lucaras City looking for adventure and found what he was after in Sanctuary. Ride's words were few in number, but his presence and fighting skill made him well-respected in the underworld of Lucaras City.

“Shad!” The boisterous voice of Strykos Battlehand rang across the room to the amused chuckles of many patrons. The Hand could only smile in response at his giant friend.

Strykos was the Grand Champion of the arena, and although he was a slave, you wouldn't know it by the freedoms he possessed. Captured from the tribal highlands to the west as a boy, Strykos grew up in the slave pens of the arena. From a small age, he was forced to beat men to death with his bare hands to the cheers of bloodthirsty commoners, and nobles alike. It was a life that suited the Champion gladiator, and he often laughed with the pure joy of battle as he smashed a man's face in with a gauntlet-covered fist, to the roaring approval of the crowd. As much as he enjoyed his work, the tribesman still hated the reality that at the end of the day he had to call another man, Master. Strykos had helped The Hand of the Shadows out of a tight situation more than once in the past, and the two had become fast friends over the years as a result. The Hand nodded at his friend who laughed again and went back to telling a tale of victory to the adoring tavern wenches around him.

After the Anchor & Sail had settled into its regular rhythm for an end-of-the-week day, a general hush fell over the crowd as the previously silent Aron Solandril got up from his cup of wine and stepped up onto the stage. As he settled down to play his lute, it seemed as if the darkness grew in the room, despite the raging fireplace. It was as if even the fire eagerly awaited the first note with hushed breath. The silence before he began to play was palpable, and fire seemed hesitant to interrupt the musician with a crackle or pop of escaped gasses. The Hand of the Shadows began to deal the next round of cards as the first notes were being played and noticed that even the surly Koruush had turned to watch the troubadour begin to play. The Hand was certain that his elven friend employed some magic during his performances, but the wily performer always acted affronted by the accusation.

Subtly shifting the position of his fingers, The Hand slipped the ace of blood card into his sleeve as he dealt the deck to the waiting players. He had been losing each round purposefully and knew that his chance to cause some mischief and get a small measure of revenge had come. The Hand quickly dealt the next round of Bloody Draw, with two cards landing face down and a third coming in to land face up in front of each player. After dealing, The Hand lightly set the deck of cards on the table, then showed his empty hands to the players before standing. With a quick flourish, he removed his cloak and hung it over the back of his chair, palming the pilfered ace of blood while he was at it. As he turned to sit and pull his chair in, The Hand deftly flicked the card in a spinning arc under the table, to perfectly land inside the boot of Kinten the Bull. The Hand had to force himself to breathe as Kinten scratched at his leg near the hidden card, and he quickly turned to deal a three of cups to Char Dragonblade when the latter signaled for another card. As the cards played out, The Hand relaxed and settled into his game. A few rounds passed and still, The Hand patiently waited for his opportunity. He knew that it had to be played perfectly with these men.

***

The fog was as thick as he had ever seen it. The kind of thick seaside fog that feels like an overheavy blanket you can barely breathe under. The Hand stepped out from the merrymaking of the brightly lit tavern and pulled his cloak closer around his neck and shoulders. Aron had defused the tension with his lute, and the patrons of the Anchor & Sail quickly went back to their ale and a chorus of song. Pulling the hood up and over his short-cropped brown hair, the Hand of the Shadows turned into the dark night. His dark eyes were still smoldering. Getting Adom Rhynn and Kinten the Bull cast out from the Anchor & Sail was a short-lived boon. He knew that Koruush's favored henchmen wouldn't wear the black flag for long, but it was still a victory he relished. His elation over getting his tormentors banished from the Anchor & Sail barely scratched the anger he felt when Koruush had called him by his hated childhood name to the muffled laughter of tavern patrons. The Hand knew he was giving them what they wanted with his anger, but couldn't help himself when he was in the moment. He needed to see Cass. She was the only one who could calm him when he was in this mood.

Cassiandra was a whore. Not like one of the tavern girls, reeking of pipe smoke and stale beer, but a lady of the night working to make a man's dreams of pleasure come true. Cass worked at The Lady of Dreams, a brothel nestled right against the corners of the merchant and noble districts. The Lady of Dreams was the only home The Hand had ever known outside of Sanctuary. His mother had worked in this building since his first memory, although he didn't have many of her to draw from. The last memory the Hand had of her was from the night she was murdered when he was barely four Summers old.

Violence was nothing unfamiliar to the women of The Lady of Dreams, but this had been different. The young thief's mother had been brutally beaten and strangled, then hung from the rafters of her room. In a final savage act, her assailant had eviscerated her from throat to pelvis to spill her entrails across the floor. The terrified young boy had huddled under a heavy pile of blankets, quivering with fear in a small closet. Heavy boots thudded close, inches away from the frightened boy, then away to melt into the growing screams of the brothel's other patrons. It was not a memory the Hand liked to revisit, and he kept it locked away in a place too dark to willingly venture. Still, the Lady of Dreams was the only home he had ever known, and it was there that he intended to go to seek comfort.

The gloom of the fog had grown heavier during his walk from the dockside quarter to The Lady of Dreams. The Hand pulled his cloak further about him to protect against the chill of the night and puffed out an exaggerated sigh of frustration.

"What's that gettin' on yea there boy..?" The sound of Adom Rhynn's voice sliced through the fog from behind him like a snake, insinuating itself into every whirl of vapor.

The Hand cursed himself silently for getting lost in thought while walking the streets of Lucaras City at night. That was the path of fools and dead men. Coming back to the moment The Hand of the Shadows could sense that Adom Rhynn wasn't alone, and knew that Kinten the Bull was waiting ahead of him huddled in a shadowed entryway. He never could explain this ability to almost cast out his senses to detect the presence of others, even when cloaked by magic. But he couldn't count the number of times it had helped him in a bad situation.. like the one he was in now. The Hand turned slightly to the side, so as not to have his back to either man, but otherwise made no sign that he had discovered the trap.

"That was a right mean trick you played on Kinten, boy." The long-time mercenary and veteran of the Border Wars seemed to coalesce out of the vaporous fog as if he were being constructed of it.

The wily vet was lithe but strong, and as tough as old boot leather. The hard years of working and fighting in often harsh conditions left him looking older than he was, but no less dangerous for it. His steel in a fight and knowledge of mercenary tactics made him a perfect lieutenant for Koruush.

"I'm actually impressed that you managed to pull it off with so many sharks swimming around, but I imagine the Bull won't be too happy, next time he sees you." Adom trailed off into a low wicked laughter at the last part and smiled at the young rogue.

"Then next time I won't let him see me coming." The Hand replied in a low dangerous voice. He knew that this would be close. In a straight fight, he knew that either one of these men could probably kill him, if they came at him together he didn't stand a chance. If they wanted him dead, he would be hard-pressed to deny their will.

Laughing. "Next time won't be long for you, at least as soon as he's done visiting your friend."

Cass!

The name ripped through The Hand's mind. He already knew the lie. Kinten was ducked into an archway, moving toward him in the darkness ahead. But the sick feeling in his gut lurched as a blood-curdling scream tore through the gloomy night. A woman's voice filled with unbearable agony was suddenly cut off into a strangled gurgling cry.

"No!" The sound left his throat without his being aware of it.

Turning towards the Lady of Dreams, the Hand heard Adom start to move quickly toward him from behind. He recognized the danger but hardly registered the movement. He knew that Kinten was moving out to intercept his path, but he started to race in that direction, heedless of the obvious danger. All thoughts of safety flew from his mind leaving only one terrifying thought.

Cass!

Her name fueled his desperation. A massive right fist followed by the rest of Kinten the Bull materialized out of the fog-shrouded darkness, and reacting purely on instinct the Hand slid to one knee and arched his body backward underneath the powerful swing, feeling every bit of the strength in the giant man. The maneuver would have earned him a shattered knee at the least in the dock quarter, but the streets of the merchant and noble quarters were crafted by master artisans. The smooth flagstones were laid to exacting measurements. Springing up to his feet, Shad made it two steps before he was caught by his cloak and yanked backward by the massive, but amazingly agile Kinten the Bull. Adom Rhynn barreled into The Hand, and the two men quickly started beating him without mercy. As the darkness grew around the edges of his senses the last thing he thought before slipping into blackness was one word.

Cass!

***

Heavy boots tromped close and the terrified boy huddled deep under the heavy blankets, trying with all of his heart not to make any noise with his uncontrollable trembling. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Cloying. Suffocating. A dying scream echoes.

Not this dream again!

The Hand opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back in the middle of the street. He groaned and moved his head and immediately regretted it. He wasn't sure if it was the pain or the spinning that was worse. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and after a few moments, he realized it was his. The Hand tried to touch his head, the source of the pain, and with a wince discovered that he couldn't move his left hand. Finally rolling over onto his side he looked up to see Adom Rhynn, Kinten the Bull, and Koruush standing near him.

"Welcome back Sproguul." Koruush had a voice like a woodsman's saw ripping through solid rock. "We been waitin' for you."

The half-orc's eyes seemed alight with an evil gleam as he stepped closer and rested his massive war club on a broad shoulder. The Hand of the Shadows had seen that weapon smash a man's head like a godaa melon and wanted no part of it.

"Think it's about time to end this game boss?" Adom Rhynn said in low tones. He knew that the council had mysteriously forbidden the murderous half-orc from killing the young thief long ago. "Accidents do happen."

Koruush chuckled evilly, "Yes they do.. Kinten."

The giant man nodded and smiled eagerly at the unspoken command. The Bull moved closer to savagely kick The Hand in the midsection, and then again. Breath exploded from him in a gasp and after choking and coughing, the young thief spit out some blood.

"Cass.." The Hand said quietly. Losing himself in his pain.

"Don't worry about your friend, Sproguul. You'll be seeing her again soon." Koruush tromped closer casually, enjoying the moment. "I should have killed you the first time."

The half-orc's wicked laughter chilled him to the bone as Shad flashed back to that one thought. The nightmare that haunted his dreams. The night his life changed forever.

The heavy boots.

The smell of blood.

I should have killed you the first time.

"Nooo...!" The Hand's primal scream turned into another explosion of breath as Kinten delivered another savage kick to the wounded young man. The Hand spit out more blood and hugged his ruined stomach to try to ward off more blows. Clutching himself in pain, The Hand of the Shadows thought frantically for a way out of this. The pain, the probably broken ribs, his shattered left hand.. none if it meant anything compared to the wrath he suddenly felt. It was that anger that brought him clarity.

That stuff will melt your face off.

That was it! The little bottle that Aron tossed to him earlier flashed back into his memory.

We wouldn't want to melt the flesh from your bones!

Rough hands grabbed his shirt front, and Kinten the Bull lifted the Hand into the air. With his broken body falling to hang limply suspended in the air, The Hand presented an easy target for the brutal half-orc. Koruush lifted the heavy war club off of his shoulder and studied the notched and dented rivets, hammered into the wood by skilled craftsmen. He remembered many of the times this weapon had smashed an arm, or crushed a skull with ease. Looking over at the protected brat of the council, he almost regretted that the time had finally come to kill him.

Growling at the weak thought, Koruush started to swing the great war club when a flash of intense white light suddenly illuminated the street like the full noon sun, then winked back out of existence almost as fast! In that moment of distraction, The Hand of the Shadows whipped the small vial he had palmed as Kinten roughly picked him up off the ground, into the face of the blinded half-orc! The Hand's broken body fell to the ground as bile-smelling bitter black liquid painted Koruush's face and chest. The acrid elixir splashed towards Kinten as well, but he was able to turn his face partially away before it landed. Immediately both men fell to the ground and clutched at their faces, screaming in agony.

Koruush thrashed against the acid eating his face and chest until there was nothing left but bubbling goo draining off of his skull. Adom Rhynn rushed to his friend's side and quickly tore off his shirt to clean off what he could from Kinten's ruined eye socket. Looking up with murderous intent, Rhynn was incensed but unsurprised to discover The Hand of the Shadows was gone.

***

The wall seemed to slide open on its own accord as a soft blue light splashed against the far wall. The Hand stumbled out of the magical doorway created by Aron Solandril and stopped himself against the wall with a thud. His longtime friend stepped out behind him and the door slid shut with a flash of soft blue light.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!" Aron practically shouted at his friend.

"Yeah... I just melted that pig fucker's face off before he could cave my skull in." The Hand was slightly irritated that his friend was yelling at him when he was half broken, and almost murdered just a few moments ago. He knew the implications of the unauthorized killing of a council member and a lord of the thieves clan at that. When the word got out about what he had done he would be a hunted man.

"He was going to kill me, Aron." He finished with a grimace of pain.

"He may as well have done it clean when Rhynn gets back to Sanctuary!" Aron seemed truly angry with his young friend.

The Hand took a few moments to collect his head then realized he was in a hallway of The Lady of Dreams, his longtime home.

Cass!

He was in the hallway outside her room.

Gasping with the suddenness of his recollection, pain, and fear he sagged slightly against the wall before surging to his feet in anger. Aron stepped in front of him.

"We need to get you out of here, now." Aron placed a hand on Shadow's chest, partially to steady the wounded man.

"Get out of my way, or I'll kill you where you stand." The Hand replied with deadly seriousness.

Aron knew that his longtime student couldn't kill him in his current state, and likely wouldn't in any case. But his hard eyes softened at his friend's obvious distress and he finally relented and stepped to the side. "We don't have much time. We need to leave town... forever."

The Hand of the Shadows acknowledged his friend's commitment to stay with him with a slight nod.

"I know." He said, and moved toward the door, slowly turning the handle.

"There's nothing in there but more pain, Shad." Aron said softly.

"I know." The Hand replied and stepped inside.

***