A Drink in Toulon - Part 5 - (A Kip the Quick Adventure)
A thrilling romp with theft, magic, and humor.
Kip the Quick is a thief and a rogue, but he wants to go legit. Really, he does. So, when he meets with a nobleman to talk trade, all is fine and dandy until someone comes knocking. Loudly. And violently. Where’s a good spot of the Essence, when you really need some?
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Part 5
RISING SHAKILY FROM BEHIND THE FALLEN BOOKCASE, I stared at a cracked ceiling, dust sifting down, a fallen painting, and cracks that ran along the walls.
Were they gone?
I stepped over a pile of books and touched the door gingerly, but nothing happened. I eased up, opened the peephole, and stared out at what had once been a fine foyer. There were man-sized holes through walls, furniture had been reduced to kindling, a dusty haze swirled and a beam lay one end on the floor, the ceiling above sagging.
I heard a noise, but it was outside, sunlight streaming in from the destroyed main door.
It was time to leave.
I tried the door handle and pulled. But it was locked!
Swearing like a Renkiri guildsman I stared at the solid door. Four hinges of thick iron and none of the locks accessible from this side. My lockpicks and skill would mean nothing.
I swung my head around, wanting to beat my fists on the plastered stone walls, and then I saw the iron wain chisel and hammer hung on the wall. A memento to some dead LeClair of the past.
Forged steel, strong enough for a Guild Enforcer to break through black market lockdowns and to ruin the iron wheels of an illicit wain. Surely…
I looked back at the door’s iron hinges. Then grabbed the old tools off the wall.
It was time for some hard labor.
Minutes later: sweating, exhausted, I slid past the door as it pivoted and started to fall, the hinges cut through, the pound of the hammer still pulsing through my aching hands.
The heavy oak door hit the floor with a bang that would have been heard ‘cross town. I jumped at the sound, knowing I had to leave, but then my eyes caught sight of an amethyst glow.
Thoughts of escape faded just as fast as common sense before Bellerose’s seduction. Was that a hint of purple sparkling beneath a collapsed side table? The vial of Essence hiding, all cute and quiet by its lonesome? There had been some Essence left in there, I was sure of it. My mouth watered with old memory.
The house vibrated again as if a dollhouse being shaken by an angry toddler. I froze, and then the wall before me burst open, clouds of dust erupting.
I dove to the side, the lord’s guard flying through to impact the wall, and the vial lost in the commotion. The Drinker-lord stepped through the hole, his eyes lit with a fury.
“Where is Gagne?” Tyren bellowed, stomping toward the guard. “Where is that cheat?” He thumped his foot down and the floorboards split. “Where is that coward?” He waved his hand to the side, smacking a painted timber that snapped like a twig.
The guard rose to his feet, wiping his face, his breastplate rent and razed, bracers missing. “You will not find him.”
But I knew.
For all his bravado, the guard looked worse for the wear. How much Essence had Tyren drunk? Was it more than Gagne’s guard? Did it matter? I glanced back to the closed door the lord and his daughter had fled down. Numerous hallways branched off of the foyer that was now a battle zone. The closed door was no more obvious than any of a dozen others.
It would be so simple. Tell Tyren which door Gagne had fled through, now cowering somewhere in the dank bowels of his estate. But I shook my head in foul dismay. Looking up from where I had fallen, trying not to cough, trying not to draw attention, I wondered if this wretched house would be the last I ever saw. “What’s this?” For then, under a shattered side table, there was that glow of amethyst.
I reached for it, fingers shaking, but then the two Drinkers collided, the struggle raging through the room. I dove into a side room, huddling in the corner. The ceiling cracked, plaster falling in great chunks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Go legit. Ha! Make some real money. Ha! Stick to what you know, Kip!
Then a marble bust of a naked woman’s torso flew through the wall and landed behind me. Trying not to scream, I scrambled back out of the room as the two Drinkers wrestled by, their great blows loud enough to break eardrums.
There, the vial of Essence was right at my feet; remnants of the purple fluid still inside. Like a siren’s call, I was ensnared. Snagging it in one hand, I ran down the hall, not daring to look back.
The vial was mine!
Pausing, out of breath, around a corner, nearly on the opposite side of the estate, I leaned against a wall and held it up to my eyes. The remaining fluid churned inside, sparkling and glowing as if something alive. One drink and I’d have the speed and strength to escape this house of horrors and be on the other side of town with time to spare. Maybe loot a couple pockets on the way for good measure.
It wasn’t that long ago, I had stood on the cracked plain of the Sparelands, the ravine of Tander to my side when I held another vial, similar to this, but fuller.
There was a thrill of excitement that rose inside: the speed, the power, the unlimited possibilities.
Pressing the cool crystal to my lips greedily, I tossed it back, shaking out the remainder, shuddering as Essence touched my tongue, shivering as it slid down my throat, wanting to stomp my feet, crush the vial in my hands, and scream.
The taste of liquid rock lingered as I opened my eyes, feeling energized, strong. The vial lay empty on the ground. I smiled, the sound of two Drinkers battling in the distance, like nothing more than errant flies buzzing a midden heap. It was time to leave this fool’s errand of a job. Perhaps I should help get Twinky away, but she was a smart old bird, and likely long gone. I stepped down the hall, finding I was just outside the family’s formal dining hall. The table was long and laid with a fortune in shining silver.
Lord Gagne and his siren of a daughter had no need for such trinkets now, not while they huddled for their lives in some basement strong room, their chosen guard fighting to the death. I paced to the table, running my fingers along a fine emerald tablecloth.
What was I doing? Wasn’t I supposed to run?
I chuckled while a boom seemed to signal that one of the Drinkers had been flung through another wall, the floorboards bouncing in reply. Why would I leave without some token of my patronage, some profit to be had? I spread my arms wide, pulling the silver in toward me, the cutlery clattering.
Discarding heavy porcelain platters to the floor, I gathered the ends of the tablecloth, making a heavy sack that would have made ten thieves proud. I tied off the ends and turned to leave when I saw a painting of the lord and his family on the wall, hung askew. Would they make it out alive? Hard to know. And hard to care. Not when my blood hummed in my ears, and I could practically taste the profit from this haul. What a fool I had been to try and labor for the piddly sums of a trade run.
Just then a group of Gagne’s guards passed the dining room, heading toward the Drinker battle. Were they insane? Or were they also Drinker’s? But somehow, as I breathed in, I could tell that they were not. They didn’t smell right. One turned my way.
“Hey! Put that down.”
“You’d be hard-pressed to make me.”
The guard pulled a sword and advanced, waving his fellows on. “I’ll handle this scoundrel.”
First mistake. I picked up a platter and flung it, he managed to swipe the first from the air, but the second and third struck, and he was laid out on the floor for an early nap. His fellows hadn’t moved on yet, though. Yelling at me, two more advanced. I shook my head, strode up, batted their swords to the side with my bare hand, and both men went sprawling to join their friend.
“There,” I said, shrugging my makeshift bag higher on my shoulder.
Then I heard more shouts and running. “Will they ever learn?” I picked up a marble bust of some guy with a beard and hefted it in one hand, ready to fling it at the fools as they rounded the corner to try their luck.
But they ran right by, not even glancing my way.
Then I heard the booms.
The fight was coming back to me.
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