The Noble Path

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley” I say as I lay my winning hand of cards on the table. I get odd glances from some of the other players, but that’s not the response I’m looking for. I clear my throat and try again.

“I said, there weren’t always dragons in the Valley” this time I make sure to project my voice, but not outrageously so. This time, I get more than a few odd glances from the players. They’re all looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Not so much because it’s a comment that didn’t bare repeating, but because everyone knows that dragons don’t exist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The wiry man sitting across from me asks defensively, looking a bit ticked off. He’s lost the previous four hands, so he probably thinks I’m rubbing in my win at best - or insulting his intelligence at worst. I give a half-hearted shrug, not wanting things to escalate, “Just an expression I heard once, thought I’d try it out.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two moderately inconspicuous figures slip through the kitchen doors, and I know that this time, my words had the desired effect. Thank the Goddess I didn’t have to find a way to say it a third time. Note to self, don’t let Micky choose the signals.

Micky - or Sticky Mick as we like to call him, is the youngest of our crew at nine years old. Don’t let his age fool you though, he didn’t get his nickname from being grubby, but rather from his notoriously ‘sticky’ fingers. Tonight, I’m leading a small group of newly initiated members on an easy job. It’s something we like to do for a few reasons. One, it’s a confidence boost, which is important because nobody wants to hire an unconfident thief. Two, it’s a chance to see how the new members can work in a coordinated group. Mostly the kids come to us from the streets, where they’re used to working alone to survive, and group work is skill that they must acquire.

While I wait for the boys to get in and out, I casually play a few more rounds of cards, making sure to break-even but not win. After almost long enough for me to start worrying, I see two small shadows slipping out the kitchen door. Perfect. Now I just needed to kill some time before leaving - don't want anyone getting suspicious.

After I purposely lose the next hand, I excuse myself from the game and go to sit at the bar, ordering a warm meal and eating quietly by myself. When the place starts emptying out, leaving mostly drunken stragglers, I follow suit. The night's air is that pleasant sort of cool that makes you stop to close your eyes and take in a deep breath. I start the twenty-minute walk to the rendezvous; I know Mick and Jon will be eagerly awaiting me. Hells, they were probably buzzing with excitement to tell me all about how it went tonight. The thought brings a smile to my face as I remember my first job with the crew.

I'm jolted out of my reminiscing as I'm slammed up against something hard - a tree? The air whooshes from my lungs, but the feeling of cold steel pressed against my throat makes me halt any deep breaths I was about to take. When my head stops spinning and my vision clears, I find myself looking down into impossibly dark gray eyes.

"What-" I'm cut off from asking my question as the stormy-eyed woman presses her blade harder against my throat. I raise my hands in a gesture that I hope pleads my innocence for me.

"Where did you hear that?" she demands her voice as cold and stony as her eyes.

"Hear what?" great, of all the ways to die, I get killed by crazy lady in a back alley. A very beautiful crazy lady, mind you… Gods, now is really not the time, Riley. As I silently chastise myself, I watch as the woman frowns deeply and turns her head to look at something behind her. I follow her gaze and see an older man standing against a nearby tree. How had I not noticed two people following me?

Some silent communication seems to pass between the two strangers, culminating in a slight nod from the man. Was he granting permission? With a small sigh, the woman turned her attention back to me, pressing the knife ever so slightly harder against my neck.

“Where did you hear that saying about Dragons?” She asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. Her gaze was so intense that it took me a few seconds to realize what in the Realms she was talking about.

“There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley?” I’m not quite sure if it was my skepticism or the knife at my throat, but my voice cracked as I replied, and I was very fleetingly glad for the dark hiding the embarrassment staining my cheeks. I was no wet-behind-the-ears youth, and some part of me wanted the woman to know that.

“Yes! Where did you hear it?” She repeated, leaning closer as hopefulness glinted in her eyes.

Make up a lie, or tell her the embarrassing truth? To buy myself a few more seconds of deliberation time, I glanced down pointedly at the knife, hoping she would get the message. With what could only be described as a sharp growl, she dropped her hand but didn’t make a move to step away. On instinct, my hand shot up to rub my throat and I allowed myself to take a deep breath.

“Realms above woman, you could have just asked me.”

“I don’t like it when people waste my time. Don’t make me reacquaint my blade with your throat.” Her voice was calmer now, but no less dangerous. She glanced down thoughtfully to her knife and then back to me to drive home her threat. Another look into her eyes told me that they would be able to see right through any lie I told. The truth it is.

“It’s from a story book I used to read to some kids.” I venture, not wanting to give any unnecessary information about our crew. The woman’s face went from expressing angered impatience to shocked dread. Gods, she doesn’t believe me. She’s going to make good on her threat. I didn’t offer up any more information, lest I put my foot in my mouth. I tended to do that when talking to beautiful women, and I don’t think beautiful, terrifying women would be any different.

“Tell me about this book.” Her words were unnaturally even, too calm.

“Uh, I don’t know. Some of the kids stol- I mean found it years ago. It had stories of adventures, magic, and dragons. You can see why the kids liked it. Sometimes after dinner, they would ask me to read it. It was old, and falling apart, some of the script barely legible, but it made them happy.” I wasn’t too sure what she was hoping to glean my old memories. It seemed so long ago. Mick, who had been about five at the time, freshly plucked off the streets, used to beg me to read it to him. I suppose it was only natural for him to choose a line from the book as the signal on his first mission for the crew.

“You said it was old? What did it look like?” The woman’s shaky question drew me back to the present.

“Gods, um, it was old. Like old old.” I started, recalling how the leather binding felt like it was going to disintegrate in my hands.

“Yes, yes, you already said that what else?” There was an urgency to her words, and I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to summon more details.

“Okay, okay, let me think for a second. Brown leather binding, handwritten script, oh! The cover had a weird shape on it, almost like a letter, but not one I’ve ever seen before. There was a crudely stitched border in some gold thread, that was kind of neat and probably why the kids…” I stopped myself, realizing I was rambling.

“The symbol on the cover, what did it look like?”

“It was a little bit like a ‘Z’, but also a ‘L’?” My thoughts came out like a question as I scrunched my eyes even tighter, as if that would better help me recall the book. When an uncomfortable amount of time had passed without a reply, I cracked one eye open. The woman was still standing before me, but her attention was fixed on her companion. Their faces were stricken, like they’d seen a ghost, but their eyes were alight with something more fervorous.

“Where is the book now?” It was the older man who broke the tense silence. His voice was surprisingly strong, if a little gruff and he had the faintest trace of an accent that I couldn’t place.

“Okay, is this some sort of weird joke? Who are you people, really? Surely you don’t care about an old, children’s story book.” I protested. My earlier surprise and fear were slowly dissolving into anger. The woman shot her companion a questioning look, and after a moment’s consideration, he nodded.

“My name is Amahra. That is Sellen, and you are Riley. There, now we are all acquainted and you can answer the question.” Amahra said flatly. If she wanted to intimidate me by showing that she knew my name, it didn’t work. Okay, well maybe it worked a little. Who were these people…?

“It got destroyed a few years ago. I think someone tried to pull out the golden thread, thinking it might be valuable, but the whole thing ended up falling apart and getting tossed in the fire in an attempt to ‘hide the evidence’.” Mickey had been so upset that night. I can’t even remember who did it. One of the older boys, I think. Hopefully with this knowledge, my two interrogators would leave me alone to get on with my night. Realms, the boys were probably starting to worry that I haven’t shown up yet. Hopefully they would do the smart thing - not linger and return to our crew’s home.

“Destroyed?!” Amahra gasped, her free hand rising up to cover her mouth. Her reaction surprised me and I looked at her then, really looked at her for the first time. Her earlier ferocity had masked her youthfulness, and I doubted she was older than my twenty-four years. She had straight, inky black hair that lightly danced just above her shoulders. And then there were her eyes. The stormy gray irises were flecked with black and silver. All her features seemed made for the moonlight that was currently bathing her. I released a breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding. The rise of my earlier anger instantly dampened at the vulnerable expression on her face.

“I wish I wasn’t telling the truth, but I saw it burn, I’m sorry.” Was the only thing I could think to say. Before Amahra could reply, Sellen let out an anguished cry and sunk to his knees. Seeing the imposing man look so… broken, shook me to my core.

“Don’t go anywhere. Please.” Amahra said, backing away from me and crouching down to talk to Sellen. Their conversation was whispered and I could only make out every other thing they said.

“Sure. But only because you asked nicely.” I muttered when I thought she was out of earshot, Not because I think you could kill me in a heartbeat.

“…Ra, that book was our last hope.” Sellen sounded dejected.

“Maybe not.” Amahra informed the man, turning her thoughtful gaze towards me, before continuing with their hushed conversation.

***

“Riley!” An annoyed voice called, and I opened my eyes just in time to see a small, booted foot connect with my leg.

“Realms! I’m awake, I’m awake!” When had I fallen asleep? I blinked a few times to clear my vision and found myself sitting, leaned back against the tree where Amahra had ambushed me. At the reminder, I followed the booted foot all the way up to find dark gray eyes looking back at me expectantly.

“Goddess, I can’t believe you fell asleep at a time like this. If I wasn’t so disappointed, I would be impressed.” She said and her lips curved up ever so slightly. The smile, if you could even call it that, changed her stony features so much it was like looking a different person. But before I could appreciate it anymore, it quickly vanished.

“Get up, you’re coming with us.” She informed me, extending her hand to help me up.

“And where would we be going?” I asked, my words dripping with sarcasm. This earned me a fleeting glare from Amahra, which was effective in making me swallow my attitude.

“Well, we were hoping you would tell us. So, I suppose, it’s more that we’re going with you.” That half smile flashed again.

“What in all the Realms is going on? I mean, do you even hear what you’re saying? Look, this has been real fun, but I’m going to head home now.” I stretch and turn to start back down the path.

“Riley wait. We really need your help.” Her words were a soft plea that made my steps falter.

“And what could I possibly do to help you?”

“You know the Book. You might be the only one who does.” She sounded sad, and I remembered the way she had gasped when I told her of the book’s destruction.

“What is that book to you? I’m sure there are many of them, or of similar children’s tales.” Something in my words made her wince.

“The is- was only one copy, and it’s been lost to us for… a long time.” Interesting, but still not a real answer.

“Us?” I prompted, not quite ready to walk away from this conversation yet after all. She let out a deep sigh and seemed to toil with what she wanted to say.

“Sellen and I are Walkers.” She must have seen my blank expression, because she continued on.

“Officially, we’re called Walkers of the Noble Path, and there are about one hundred in our Order.” Was she from a crew that I hadn’t heard of? Somehow, I doubted that very much. Her and Sellen didn’t strike me as common thieves.

“You wouldn’t have heard of us, which is by design. There’s much to tell, but here’s the short version. About a thousand years ago, magic was abundant in our Realm. Some people were able to wield it, to an extent, but it was… wild. It was incredible, but volatile, kept in check only by the Noble Dragons. And yes, before you ask, I do mean real dragons. Anyways, they could harness and wield the magic like no other, which had the effect of releasing some of the chaotic… pressure and stabilizing it so it didn’t spiral out of control. Things were harmonious, and the Realm thrived. But, of course, there were some people who grew to despise that balance, because they believed it hindered their ability to grow their power. Chaos can be very powerful you see.

“Well, eventually these magic wielders became what was called Sorcerers. And they brokered in chaos, growing very powerful. Eventually they were powerful enough to challenge the Noble Dragons and an all-out magical war ravaged our Realm. After decades, both sides’ numbers were dwindling, but the Sorcerer’s had the upper hand. But the Realm was barely hanging on, the lack of balance was destroying it. Realizing this, a group of rebel Sorcerers banded together to ally with the Dragons in a last-ditched attempt to save the Realm. This group became known as the Walkers of the Noble Path.

“By the time the order formed, there were only two Dragons left alive. But, there was still one clutch of Dragon eggs, untouched and in the care of the Walkers. Hoping to outlast the Chaos Sorcerers, it was agreed that the most powerful Walker would secret away the Dragon eggs, hiding them in a place only he knew in order to protect them. He set out on his journey, writing clues to the final location in a code that was supposed to only be decipherable to other Walkers. This journal was enchanted to find it’s way to the Walkers when the time was right.

“You see, Dragon eggs take one thousand years to hatch. That time is upon us. But we aren’t the only ones searching for them. The Chaos Sorcerers found a way to steal life and sustain themselves on it. They, along with new generations of the Walkers have been searching for the eggs. We need to find them before they do, those Dragons are the only way to restore balance and prevent the collapse of our Realm. The book you found, was the journal, I’m sure of it.” Amahra let out a deep breath as she finished her explanation. Somehow, the flood of information erased most of my logical thoughts and I just blurted out,

“And where do I fit in, in all this?” All this unbelievable hogswash…

“Well Riley, without the journal, you’re our new map.”