Shadow of the Avatar

Chapter 1 -- Scorch Marks and Bad Memories

In the Guild, making a mistake can be like losing a finger or toe. One error too many and you can find yourself without a livelihood, or simply robbed of your life entire...

--Sireth

In Wren's fifteen summers as a Guilder, she never once got set on fire. She found the experience one she hoped never to repeat. As she topped a stone wall in an alley behind the wizard Cinnabar's tower, the magic struck her in the back. The impact felt as if someone hit her ribs with an axe. The blast shredded the leather hauberk she wore, sending pieces of it shooting off in trails of smoke and sparks. She screamed and fell to the cobbles clutching her breasts and stomach.

"Wren!" she heard Grahm yell.

She focused through the pain to keep from falling unconscious. The effort made every sensory detail stand out in bold relief.

An icy sea breeze guttered down the night-darkened lane, blowing scraps of parchment through skeletons of broken crates and barrels. Wren clawed at the dirty stone, the slightest movement sending shrieks of pain through her body.

She had to quit the Guild. Nothing was worth hurting like this.

Wren, the Brethren Guild's premier two-story girl, had topped herself. Up a hundred paces of mirror-smooth tower wall, through a narrow window, and past all the wizard Cinnibar's magical wards and traps. From within a secured room, behind mithril-steel walls, past an array of tricks, runes, and locks she had come away with the fifty-thousand crown Malicent gem. In this heist, she and Grahm had succeeded in breaking the much vaunted sorcerer-ring defenses that had stymied thieves for more than two centuries. The feat established their team as was one of the best infiltrators ever.

How ironic to foil all that security only to get caught by the wizard himself. From a tower window, two hundred paces away, he managed to clip her with a fire spell.

She may have proved her skill, but the wizard had made her pay for the privilege. Wren the thief was now Wren the living blister.

Grahm shook her, wild blond hair wreathing his boyish face. His wide dark eyes and quivering lip might have looked comical some other time.

"Go away. I'm dying!"

"You're not dying! Come. I hear guard whistles."

Grahm dragged her up. Her skin burned as if she'd spent a day unprotected in the desert.

"Where's the gem?" he asked.

"In the pack. It must--"

His lithe body sheathed in green leather reminded her of a leaf-jumper as he went over the wall at a run.

"No!"

His voice echoed behind the wall. "Found it! Coming--" His words were interrupted by a brilliant white light and a crack of thunder. He cried out in pain.

"Grahm!"

The pack flew over the wall and landed near her. Grahm came after it. Another bolt of lightning smashed the top of the wall behind him. He flipped and landed by her.

"Let's go."

"You scared me!"

"I scared you?"

He snatched up the pack and yanked her toward the street. She staggered and he supported her. When she put an arm around his waist, she felt charred material and blood.

"You're hurt!" She experienced a pang as she caught a whiff of smoldering leather and flesh.

"Just keep going!" He tried to conceal the pain, but his voice cracked.