The Sharded Blade | Part 1 (A Dark Fantasy Novella)

Part 10

Gertrude was already at the door, clawing rat sized gouges into the surface of the aged wood. I, on the other hand, approached with an abundance of caution. Ok, more like deep-seated trepidation. If there was danger here, perhaps the very men I sought, I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Not unless my targets received this rat's stamp of approval. One thing was for certain. If there were unfriendlies about, I wasn't going to put myself foolishly in harm's way.

From the looks of things, the structure was an old hunting cabin from days gone by. And while it exuded the appearance of being abandoned, there were obvious signs someone had been here recently. Patches of leaf litter were misplaced and the ground beneath had been disturbed and imprinted with the tread marks from footwear of those who had been in the vicinity. The signs, all combined, formed a clear picture that such wasn't the result of some native animal merely scavenging for its dinner.

Annoyed by my pace, perhaps seeming like I was stalling, and I was, Gertrude hissed at me.

"I'm coming," I said, stopping at a boarded-up window, not exactly sure what I expected to see through the solid wood.

Another hiss.

Annoyed by her insistence, I made my way across the final few steps to the door, testing the handle to make sure it was locked. It was.

Producing a leather roll containing my thieves' tools, I selected a wire thin pick perfect to open the barrier now looming before me. Opening the main lock was as easy as breathing. But when I pushed the door to open it, there was resistance.

A second lock. One hidden, but not one that would pose any sort of an obstacle for me.

Rapping my fist up and down the wood, I found the odd sound of the metal beneath the surface about six inches above where the handle was. It was a simple wheel mechanism, but one I would need a different tool to manipulate. Of course, being the experienced thief I was, I had just such a tool.

Pulling out a magnet, a powerful one made from rare elements, I placed it over the lock. It gripped on like a man lost in the desert to a canteen containing his last sip of water. Turning it to the left, I felt the latch pull back and release its hold.

The door swung open, greeting me with a black abyss laced with the unmistakable metallic aroma of blood. Not more than two steps inside, my foot kicked over something and sent it clanging around on the floor as it fell over. Some sort of hollow metal container. Well, if there was someone here, they knew I was as well.

Drawing out my blade, I lingered, seeking any indication that would tip me off to whether or not I had company. Nothing. So I allowed myself to relax, but only a little.

In the dark, I could see an even blacker spot on the floor ahead of me, something within the darkness. Unmoving, it just laid there.

Gertrude's hissing drew my attention to her presence in the cabin with me. Reflections from red eyes gleamed off the glass of a hurricane lantern within arm's reach, which I collected. But not before banging my shin off the firm and unrelenting edge of the table on which it sat.

Other than sparks, the first flick of the striker yielded no result. The second was more successful, bringing the horror of the room into full view, albeit in slow motion as the glow grew to envelop the shack.

On the floor, laying in what had once been pitch blackness, was nothing less than the body of the girl. She remained tied up, the garrote around her neck still tight. In real life, she'd never escaped. Her clothes were torn straight down the middle, pulled open to allow for easy access to her body, which had been flayed open. There was blood everywhere from the violation that had befallen her. It was dried now, but the stains would be indelible.

Kneeling down beside the corpse, I checked for the pulse I knew I would not find. Force of habit. The body was air temperature, and I closed her gaping eyes that spoke to the horror she endured. The girl hadn't deserved this, and her bruised body was not a pleasant sight to behold.

Based on the pattern of behavior I had seen so far, I surmised the girl would reappear tomorrow evening and probably lead me to this destination. Or at least try to. At most, I didn't think it would take two more nights for her to reach this place, assuming her memory didn't fail her.

In my gut, I felt that it would be an awful idea to allow the girl to see her own body like this. Plus, I didn't want to spook a ghost. Could you even do so, even if you tried? And while the curiosity as to whether or not her knowing she was dead would break the bonds holding her here lingered in my thoughts, I didn't want to lose my chance at five shards finding new homes.

Finding the means within me to tear away from the miserable scene and the dead girl, I took a quick tour of the cabin. The sparse furnishings were pushed to the outer extremities of the walls, leaving the center open. There were a lot of various-sized braziers arranged around the room. They seemed to have a pattern to them, almost ritualistic in nature. They'd also been recently used. Dragging my finger around the inside of one, it came out coated in fresh soot.

As fate would have it, during my aimless wanderings of the interior, seeking clues, I found a shovel standing alone in the corner.

Grabbing the tool, I resolved to step outside and dig a grave to dispose of the body. A body that, for once, was not of my doing. But, as I made my way for the door, the sole of my boot pressed down on something that cracked like it was breaking. My stride ceased, foot pulling back in that instant, and I saw that something.

It was small and round; a locket on a broken chain. It looked oddly familiar, and I dipped my light down low for a closer look.

The trinket collected into my hand, I realized in short order it was the mate to the one I held so precious and close to my heart. With a tenderness, I turned it over, making sure, not wanting to believe my own eyes. Perhaps there had been more of these baubles made than just the two I had purchased.

I looked at the dead girl, then back to the piece of jewelry, now slightly deformed from my weight upon it. As my thumb wiped away some of the dirt covering the metal, a void formed in my cold heart. Daring to crack open the small locket, that seemingly simple action revealed the piece of easy to recognize black fabric nestled inside.

In the next instant, and before I could draw in my next breath, it was back on the floor as my fingers lost all the feeling within them.