The Making of a Masterthief

By Richard Wiggins

Apprentice thief Lontel has stolen more than most master thieves in the guild but still the guildmaster won’t promote him. Desperate to prove himself, he decides to kidnap the guild’s latest acquisition, an elf maiden, by telling her he is going to help her reach Shangri-la. When caught he must make good on his lie or die. Surviving the adventure will require all of his skills and more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Wiggins
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781617520969

Book preview

The Making of a Masterthief

by

Richard S. Wiggins, Jr.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

TreasureLine Publishing on Smashwords

The Making of a Masterthief

Copyright © 2010 by Richard S. Wiggins, Jr.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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This book is dedicated to my wife, Bobbi, who I love more than life itself. She has always believed in me even when I no longer did. She has been God's hand, guiding me time and again through many of life's dark passages.

Special thanks go to my sister-in-law, Linda. She has been the workhorse of this project. I only had to tell the story.. She has had to take it from manuscript to published book. Awesome is one of the adjectives I use for her often.

I also want to thank my mom, Dixie. She instilled in me early a love of reading, writing, and wonder. She taught me doing is much more fulfilling than getting.

Last, I want to thank my mother-in-law, Myrna. She has always made me feel special; something many son-in-laws don't get.

Ladies, thanks you so much for your love, your time, and your hard work on my behalf. I love you all.

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Prologue

Flee, Sister! We cannot hold the lemonyx at bay much longer! The young elven warrior hoarsely cried. He hugged and kissed his sister for the last time. She jumped onto the waiting midnight black stallion and stared back, tears streaming down her face. The warrior slapped the stallion on the rump, and it bolted into the night.

Run like the wind, Wingfoot, the warrior said. You carry Shangri-la’s last hope. He turned and raced forward to aid his brothers in their lost effort as the warhorse thundered towards the northern mountains.

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Chapter 1

The Apprentice Thief

Hooves clattered by this bhe darkened figure huddled in the alley trying to catch reath. The guard sergeant barked orders the thief could not hear over the hammering of his heart. Footfalls padded closer. The thief could smell the foul odor of the drainage canal wafting to him. Salvation! If only he could reach it before being skewered by a pike.

The footsteps came closer. Three deep breaths. A shadow fell across the entrance of the alley. Now! The hidden figure darted in front of the startled soldier who made a wild grab at him.

Don’t let the damn cur reach the water or we’ll never catch him! the sergeant bellowed. Pikes clattered around the thief as he dove into the scum covered canal. The sergeant spat into the water after the escapee then recoiled at the awful smell. We’ll never find that son-of-a-dog now. He can swim like a fish and stay underwater longer than a duck. Let’s get out of here before the smell overpowers me. None of his men argued as they beat a hasty retreat to cleaner parts of the city.

Torchlight flickered away the darkness around the entrance of the Bull. A dripping man approached two others whose nervous eyes and twitching hands belied their seeming idleness. As the man got close to them, one grabbed his nose.

Phew, Lontel, you smell worse than the whore I slept with last night. His partner guffawed. Lontel said nothing, but tried to push his way by the two. Now hold on, Lontel the teaser said, we have orders not to let you in if you come here smelling like a pile of dung. Both men laughed uproariously.

Let me by, Yunta, Lontel growled.

The older man’s bloodshot eyes slit menacingly. You’ll clean up first or we’ll lay you out for the vultures. Lontel started to protest, but stormed away in anger knowing it would be useless. The jeering laughter of the two men taunted him.

Clean, Lontel stormed by his two antagonists at the Bull’s entrance. Every eye turned to him as the door slammed shut. Lontel could feel the heavy gaze of Titarnaes Titus reach him, and his gaze fell to the floor. No doubt everyone had a good laugh hearing the frog had used his celebrated method of escape yet another time.

You are just in time, apprentice thief, Titarnaes said. Lontel could feel the red creep up his neck at the mention of apprentice. He had stolen enough booty and never been caught. He should be given the title master thief, but no, the guild master, that obese, bald headed Titarnaes refused. He was still an apprentice.

Titarnaes’ voice snapped Lontel away from his morose thoughts. I shall be taking our barge up the South Enil. It seems our brethren of the mountains have quite a prize. I will need the services of four of you. Are there any volunteers?

We’ll go, Yunta said from the door.

Good, Titarnaes said. He eyed the now quiet room. Surely they are not the only souls brave enough to leave the city for a quiet ride up the Enil. Lontel bit his lower lip. Only master thieves were ever taken on such adventures. Still, no one else seemed willing to go. If Titarnaes did let him go, then…

I, uh, I will go, he squeaked.

Ho, ho, Titarnaes laughed. Master Frog, we shall be floating on the water not in it. Laughter rippled off the walls of the tavern. No, we will not have an apprentice going. Why, he might then claim that he deserves the honor of being called a master thief.

Well, I… Lontel began, but the guild master’s icy glare stopped him. With those eyes burning into his back, Lontel tromped out of the tavern. He had to do something…something really daring to force Titarnaes to accept him as a masterthief.

Outside the whores had begun gathering under the dim lights of the street torches. There is our green eyed satyr, one cooed upon seeing Lontel.

Let Cassandra stroke your lovely golden hair, you tall, lean devil, another chimed. Lontel felt the small bag of silver he had stolen earlier then glanced at the Bull. He could use some consolation tonight. His smile brought the two prostitutes scurrying to him.

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Chapter 2

The South Enil Debacle

Lontel watched the barge with Titarnaes and his four underlings pull away from the dock and drift slowly towards the center of the slowing moving Enil. Yunta hoisted the dirty sail that soon caught the morning breeze and began pulling the wide, flat boat upriver at a snail’s pace. The guild master barked orders and soon four oars dipped into the muddy waters.

Lontel sprang into action whenever the barge finally floated out of sight. He dragged out the immense length of rope he had purchased and dumped it into the small dory he had traded for several months earlier. In it he also stowed a week’s supply of food, his bow, and a quiver of arrows.

Soon the small craft was cutting through the current following the larger, slower barge. Throughout the day Lontel kept the sail reefed to keep his distance behind his quarry. Every hour he would land, climb through the reeds standing four feet higher than he, push his way through the shoulder high grass until he found a high point, and check the progress of Titarnaes’ barge.

The only unsettling part of the trip was the Enil crocodiles that basked on the sand bars or floated by with nothing moving, not even their eyes. Something very rough grated against the boat, and when Lontel glanced over to see what he had hit, a massive set of jaws snapped just under his head. White with fear, he fell to the center of the vessel and cowered, sweat and fear pouring from his body.

You’ll not keep me from becoming a master thief, you floating log of death, he muttered when he finally regained some of his composure. For the rest of the day, though, he steered as wide a course as possible around the drifting crocs.

When the sun dipped below the flat horizon, Lontel threw his small anchor into a growth of reeds, curled up in the bottom of his temporary home and soon fell into a light sleep. Scrapings and thumpings kept his sleep fitful. When morning arrived, the sun streaking the sky with gold, he felt more tired than when he had fallen asleep.

After washing down several sweet cakes with the river’s brackish water, Lontel pulled in the anchor and set out again. All I need is a sharp bend in the river now, and I can set my snare, he laughed as the morning sun warmed him and lifted his spirits. No sooner had he said it than the river suddenly curled to the east. Clapping his hands together with childish glee, he swung the boat around and pointed it for the west bank. As it scraped the sandy beach, Lontel heaved out his anchor and stepped out carrying his bulky coil of rope. His eyes searched everywhere for something to secure this end of his trap. Nothing. Nothing but reeds and grass. How was he to stop a floating barge with one end of his line tied to nothing but grass?

Angrily he thrashed through the grass. Still nothing! He couldn’t believe it. All of his plans, his carefully laid plans thwarted. He sat heavily onto the sand and watched dejectedly as the current playfully tugged at the stern of his dory.

As he watched, the boat worked loose from the bank and slowly began drifting away. The anchor line went taut and caught its errant ward. Lontel jumped to his feet. Of course! How could he be so slow, so stupid?

Working frantically, he beached the boat, untied the anchor, tied it to his snare line, and buried it deep in the tough roots of the grass. Possessed by his inspiration he rowed to the far shore trailing the rope behind him. Once there, he spent four exhausting hours bulling the dory into the tall grass and burying it so it couldn’t be easily moved. When it met with his approval, he lashed the end of his snare line to the dory’s front cleat. Now all he had to do was wait.

The first two days dragged by. On the third day, Lontel woke from a nap and noticed a log about to hit the snare rope. A small test, he smiled to himself as he watched. Just as the log hit the rope it exploded into a maddened churning crocodile.

NO! Lontel screamed, jumping to his feet and racing to the riverbank. By the time he reached it, the reptile’s struggles were over, and it continued it leisurely journey down the river.

Fretfully Lontel tugged on the rope. Strong resistance met his efforts. Reassured and more confident than ever, he returned to his grassy nest to continue his watch. On the fifth day he saw a sail over the grass moving in his direction. Quickly he strung his bow and prepared.

Before the barge appeared, Lontel could hear Titarnaes’ bass voice ringing in song. He’ll be singing a different tune shortly, Lontel thought humorously. Suddenly the barge drifted into view. Almost instantly it touched the rope. The hidden thief watched anxiously as the rope tightened and water droplets sprang from it like it was a hot skillet.

With a groan the barge stopped in midstream and its passengers lurched forward. What in hell’s name have we hit? Titarnaes yelled from his knees.

Yunta stood and began going forward, but Lontel’s harsh voice stopped him. Move again, Yunta, you pig, and I will skewer you with an arrow dipped in the venom of a viper. Yunta froze. He recognized the voice and knew the bastard could do it.

None on the barge moved. Lontel let his eyes stray from the people to hunt for the prize they had traveled so far for. He saw no chest, no bags, nothing that might contain coins or jewels. Titarnaes broke the silence.

So, Lontel, you have stooped to stealing from your brethren, eh?

To prove a point only, Titarnaes, he said defensively. To show you and those scum with you that I deserve the rank of master thief as much as they do. He could feel the guild master’s gaze on him, and he blushed.

And what would our apprentice thief do with the prize he has taken from us?

Lontel chewed his lower lip. I will present it to the guild and receive my fifty percent of the profit realized. Yunta began inching forward. Death by poisoned arrow is no pretty sight, Lontel said loudly. Yunta quickly retreated the few inches he had gained.

Titarnaes sighed. It seems we are stalemated. We cannot cut ourselves free, and you cannot get our elf, Lontel gulped. What had the fool said?

What did you say? he asked.

I said that our prize is an elf. Here, look for yourself. Titarnaes dragged a young maiden from his side into Lontel’s view.

You want me to believe you have an elf? Lontel laughed. All you have is a skinny girl. He thought a moment. How do you know she is an elf?

Well, you see, lad, she isn’t built like a normal woman, Titarnaes answered. He waited for a few moments for a reply. Surely, Lontel, you knew that elven women don’t have the same womanly parts as humans.

Of course, Lontel lied. And I suppose you felt obliged to check her?

Our mountain brethren have been known to try to pull the wool over our eyes in the past, Titarnaes laughed. Seriously he