Skarenmoor: A Fantasy of Falkenland

Chapter Twenty Four: Karrik's Triumph ~ Jeaquson

As we finished the song and my friend Horric faded from life, I realized there was no sign of Karrik anywhere. He needed to know of his friend's sacrifice and be given the opportunity to mourn. I quickly bid Dastan goodbye and entered the palace corridors. Dead Squanjoes littered the ground, with our own soldiers among them. The clouds had lifted—by some strange magic, it seemed that Noir had vanished and the sun returned. The desolation remained, but the color had returned to people's faces, and they looked round rather bewildered, as if they had just come out of a trance. Passing the twisted remains of a rich statue of marble, I looked for Karrik. Within the dust of the ashes of the dragons' fire, I saw his unmistakable footprints. Following them around the corner, I came to the royal banqueting hall and saw Karrik. He was going from table to table, lavishly set as if for a feast, snatching all golden plates and candlesticks, and fine silverware. Along with a few jewels he had lifted from the backs of the chairs, Karrik tossed all these treasures into a large gray sack upon his back. When he saw me, it startled him for a second, but he quickly regained his composure and continued the deed. I approached him,

"What are you doing?"

Karrik rolled his eyes. "What do you think? I'm stealing!"

"But why? You told me that your son died working for the Thieves Guild. What about the Silent Knife?"

Karrik let out a twisted snort. "Jeaquson, Jeaquson, don't you ever learn? I am the Silent Knife. I am leader of the Thieves Guild!"

Though momentarily taken aback by Karrik's revelation, I tried to convince him otherwise. "But what about your son? Was that a lie too?" Karrik glared at me.

"I may be a thief but I'm an honorable one. When my Jack died, I resolved to make the Thieves Guild a more profitable venture than before, and haven't I succeeded? With the absence of a king in Sakatola, the barons have no time to chase little old me, or control the black markets! The money of other thefts comes round, and I get rich! There's nothing confusing about that, dearie!" Deciding to use the death of his partner as a weapon, I bellowed out, "Horric's dead!"

Karrik flinched a bit. "Dead is he? Well...I'm sure it was glorious! The fool!"

"Wait, he wasn't in on your schemes?"

"Oh please Jeaquson, don't insult me! Horric a thief? The simpering buffoon wouldn't have the brains to steal a silver pitcher, because he would be admiring his own reflection the entire time!"

It sickened me that Karrik would dare to insult so brave a warrior as Horric. I decided that in cases such as this, the direct approach was required.

"Karrik, please. Remember all the times we spent together, saving villages and people. We were heroes! You were a hero! This scheme of yours doesn't matter, none of it does! I don't care about your Thieves Guild, Silent Knife, or evil doings. You say you hate Squanjoes, yet you freed Droven and befriended him. Who cares what you did in the past? What matters now is your life ahead of you. Please Karrik, come back; you don't have to steal anymore. I know there's good in you! You only need to see it!"

Karrik eyed me suspiciously. For a blissful moment he nodded as if he agreed with my sentiments, but then he returned to filling his sack and retorted,

"Oh, Morlo said the same thing right before he died! Oh, I probably shouldn't have said that..."

My heart stopped. Morlo? Karrik knew Morlo? The blood began to rush to my face. How could Karrik know Morlo? At this point, Karrik shrugged his shoulders and I began to put the pieces together. The short shadowy figure covered in blood, Karrik's desire to slit my throat when we first met, and the revulsion he had towards Squanjoes all fit together. It was him? Karrik was the one who framed me? Pretending to be my friend when all the while he was the real murderer? Of all the slimy, sneaky, simpering...