A Sample Chapter

-—Chapter 1—-

“Guards! Stop that boy!” a vendor shouted as Destin ran through the crowded street, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. With each step, his feet pattered against the cold, hard cobblestone, a firm grip on the coin purse, and a big smile stretched across his face.
Several large, armored figures clamored after him. He pushed through the crowd, slid into a narrow alley, and flattened himself against the wall.
He had spent the last year living on the street, the first few months as a beggar, and hated it. Stealing had been much easier.
The guards continued to search the crowd, passing by the alley. Destin, realizing he had held his breath, exhaled sharply. He smiled and tossed the pouch full of coins into the air, catching it. A decent haul. He would eat well tonight. He stepped back into the street, opened the purse, and dumped its contents into his hands, counting his bounty as he walked, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Something touched his shoulder, and he jumped.
“Come with me, rat.” The guard’s voice was stern and low, his grip on Destin’s shoulder tightening. He struggled against the guard’s hold. His slight frame, combined with a few quick movements, was just enough to slip from the man’s grip. He sprinted down the street, the clatter of armor growing closer with each step. Despite being quick for a fourteen-year-old, the hulking guards had no issues keeping up.
Midday was approaching, and the street grew more crowded. He shoved his way through the growing crowd, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. People on the street split around the guard, giving him room to chase and allowing him to get much closer. Destin’s grip on the coin purse tightened, and he pulled it close to his chest. If he didn’t lose the guards soon, he didn’t want to think about the consequences.
It didn’t matter; he needed to keep running. He ducked into a less crowded side street, which gave him room to run again. He smiled, glancing back at the guard as he watched the man struggle through the crowd, shouting obscenities. Consequences only mattered if you got caught.
He staggered back with a sudden dull clang, falling to the ground. He didn’t remember a wall there. Dazed, he shifted his focus back in the direction he had been running. His eyes focusing, he noticed a prominent, broad-shouldered member of the city guard towering over him. His steel cuirass gleamed in the sun. Destin scrambled to the side as the guard swooped down to grab him, the guard’s fingers brushing against his arm as he rolled. He clambered to his feet, and after regaining his wits, he started running again, his heart pounding in his chest.
As he approached a fruit vendor, who was talking to a customer, Destin grabbed an apple from the bottom of a precarious stack as he passed. The fruit toppled to the ground before the stand in the guard’s path.
“Hey!” The vendor’s face turned purple as he watched the fruit scatter across the dirty street. He could hear the profanities being shouted behind him, but didn’t stop to listen, instead glancing back just long enough to watch one guard slip and fall, but the other continued the chase. One down. He turned onto a side street and bit into the stolen apple before tossing it behind him. The clang of the guard’s armor drew closer. He needed to do something. He couldn’t outrun the guards. The street ahead turned into a stone wall, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around, pressing his back against the cold stone.
The guard approached with his arms held wide at his sides, legs spread. His knuckles were almost scraping the walls on either side of the alley. Destin checked his surroundings. The door on his right was too close to the guard. If he tried for it, the guard would grab him. With no other options, he took a deep breath and charged ahead, hoping to take advantage of the guard’s wide stance. Just before he reached the guard’s grasping range, he dropped to the ground and slid between the man’s legs.
Dust littered the air as he picked himself up from the ground and turned back to the stunned man. He chuckled, and he started walking away, turning his head to see the second guard, who had tripped over the apples, appear out of nowhere. He attempted to turn and run, but wasn’t fast enough this time. The guard grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, lifting him off the ground.
“Thought you could get away, did ya?” 
The guard’s voice was low and gravelly. His scornful smirk made Destin uneasy.
“Awful young to be worried about losing a hand,” the second guard said as he approached. The two men dragged the struggling boy toward the palace, the smile fading from Destin’s face, replaced by a look of terror.

***
Eleven years later.
Destin stepped out of his tiny, dilapidated house into the city of Osten. The bright morning sun stung his eyes as the last remnants of a hangover subsided. A musty smell hung in the humid air, mixing with the salty ocean breeze as he walked down the muddy path they called a street. Rows of identical, tiny, run-down houses. Boards over the windows. Siding hung from its frame. Most empty. The ones that remained barely stood.
The people of Osten called this area the Undercommons, and Destin assumed that was because they looked down on it and its inhabitants. Every city had a slum, and despite being the capital of Valencia, Osten was no different.
It was a short walk to the Commons; the muddy street transformed into smooth, rounded cobblestones. Clean air replaced the musty smell, and well-maintained buildings stood closer together than the decaying homes he had left behind. People bustled in and out of the buildings. This was where the people who considered themselves normal lived.
The streets were busy early in the morning, a vast sea of gray, brown, and off-white. Destin pushed past someone with a slight bump. The man continued to walk, oblivious to what had happened, but he looked down at the newly acquired coin purse, dumping a single silver Valian into his hand. He turned it in his fingers, studying the curved V stamped on the front.
“Excuse you,” Destin muttered as he dropped the coin into his own purse and tossed the stolen one. He kept moving. Blending into the crowd. 
The Commons may have been busy in the mornings, but the market held the real money. Everyone needed money to buy things, and most were too busy bickering with merchants to notice a few missing coins.
To get to the market, he crossed the palace courtyard, and its lavish, bright green grass cut low to the ground, weeping Kashmirs and other bushes neatly manicured and arranged in various shapes, showcasing the gardeners’ skill. The scent of honeysuckle and roses lingered in the air. The rich loved to waste their money on frivolities while the poor struggled to feed themselves. Around the courtyard, the streets were brick, making the walk much smoother and the appearance more appealing than the Commons.
The palace proper loomed over the far side of the courtyard, its round towers piercing the sky. An enormous stone wall enveloped it, obscuring the view. Two sentries stood in front of the large stone gateway, both adorning steel plate armor with long swords at their sides. An iron gate hung above them, ready to drop at a moment’s notice. 
Other than royalty, few people spent time in the courtyard, so he didn’t linger. All other districts surrounded the palace district, except for the Undercommons, which allowed quick access. He continued along the brick path to the market district on the other side. The streets had turned back to cobblestone, with side alleys turning into dirt paths.
Vendor stalls appeared along the streets with cloth canopies as Destin entered the market. Wooden signs hung outside shop buildings, each with the name of the business and an image for those who couldn’t read. 
Merchants were yelling about their wares, trying to get the attention of passersby. Buyers haggled with vendors, seeking the best prices. The clatter of coin against coin. All the sounds mingled together, making it hard to discern just one. To anyone else, it may feel a little overwhelming, but Destin had learned to block out most of the noise, which allowed him to remain focused. The smell of fresh fruit and cooked meat wafted through the air with aromas so intense he could almost taste them.
He approached a fruit vendor and stood close to the stall, his body almost pressing against the table, while he picked up an apple with his left hand and examined its bright red skin. He shifted his body, bringing his side closer to the stall.
“Your apples look delicious,” Destin said, putting it to his nose, taking in the sweet aroma.
“I sell only the finest,” the merchant said, standing up straight with his chest puffed out. Destin smiled, pulling an apple from the stand with his right hand and sliding it into his trousers pocket as they talked. 
“How much?” he asked.
“Five silver Valians.”
“For an apple? I’ll give you two.” He looked the vendor in the eye.
“Four and not a copper less.” The vendors stared back at Destin with indignation. 
“Would you take three?” 
“I said four. This isn’t fine jewelry. My prices are fair.”
Destin shook his head and wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust as he placed the apple back on the pile and walked away. Once out of sight of the merchant, he pulled the other apple out of his pocket and bit into it, the sweet juice trickling down the corner of his mouth. The merchant hadn’t lied. The apple was delicious.
He swallowed the first bite and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, watching the crowd as he ate, searching for his next target. This time, he wanted more than a piece of fruit. 
He noticed a short, blond, dark-skinned man dressed in a bright red shirt with puffy sleeves embroidered with golden accents. It looked extravagant and, most of all, foreign. He was haggling with a silk merchant while waving a heavy bag of coins around. Destin smiled, tossing the apple core into the grass behind him.
As he approached, the man was engaged in a heated exchange. He bumped into the haggler hard enough to cause the coin purse to spill onto the ground. Copper and silver Valians glistened across the street.
“You clumsy fool!” The man’s face turned bright red as he glared, eyes piercing through Destin.
“I’m…I’m sorry, sir, please let me help.”
He stooped and began picking up coins. He grabbed most of the coins with his right hand but tucked away the more valuable ones with his left.
They stood, and Destin placed his left hand in his pocket, extending his right hand out to the man, who snatched the coins and sneered before returning to the silk merchant. He slipped into a nearby group, thinking it best to move on before the man stopped arguing long enough to learn how to count.
Destin continued this for most of the day, choosing a target and then relieving them of a few coins with a quick sleight of hand. He never took too much. He had learned early that greed always ended with you in jail.
Snatching coins in daylight was risky, but picking locks in the Loft to snatch a few coins during the night had its downsides as well. He had spent the last few nights doing just that, but after a close call the previous night, he decided it would be best to switch tactics for a bit. Long enough for everyone to feel secure again. It didn’t take long. The rich never seemed to worry about anything.

As midday approached, Destin eyed a new target, a plump man with short black hair. He was well-dressed and walked with an air of confidence only the rich had. He followed the man into an alley, stalking closer with each step. A thin leather strap held the man’s coin purse to his side as it bounced off his hip. 
 He drew his dagger from its sheath with a smile, sneaking close to his target. He slid it under the string while supporting the pouch with his free hand. Then, with one swift movement, he cut the leather, catching the pouch as it fell; nothing to it. He turned to slip away, but the wealthy man’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Jest—.” A look of confusion flashed across the man’s face, before quickly fading into a grin.
The color drained from Destin’s face as his breathing quickened, his heart racing. Had he really been caught? He looked around for a place to hide as he struggled to free his arm, but the man’s grasp was tight.
“I suspect you have something of mine.” The way the man spoke was condescending.
Destin raised his dagger and attempted to cut the man’s arm, hoping the pain would cause him to let go, but the man was faster, grabbing his other arm.
“You should be careful swinging that thing around. You could cut someone,” the large man said, holding both of his wrists firmly despite him struggling. His mind spun. What could he do? The man had both of his arms.
A twist of his wrist caused a sharp pain to shoot up his arm, enough to loosen his grip. His dagger fell to the ground with a clink, and the man kicked it to the side.
“The hostility is unnecessary. Just turn over the coin purse, and I will not be required to alert the guards.”
“Liar. Why would I believe, whoever you are?”
“I am not a liar, and my name is Flynn Redain,” the man said, his grip tightening.
Destin refused to take his eyes off Flynn. Flynn’s attention seemed focused on his grip and ensuring Destin couldn’t break it.
“Let me go, and you won’t have to get those fancy clothes all dirty.” 
A smirk curled up the side of Flynn’s mouth.
Destin forced his hands straight up, causing the man’s focus to shift. With Flynn distracted, he swept the man’s legs, causing him to trip but not to let go. Both men fell to the ground, and the impact freed his hands, but the coin purse tumbled into the dirt beside them. Destin rolled onto the street, attempting to get back to his feet, when he felt the rich man grab his leg, slamming him back to the ground in a plume of dust.
He spat the gritty paste from his mouth as he searched, spotting the coin purse on the ground nearby. He crawled to it. His fingers wrapped around the leather. Destin pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Flynn’s shoulder drove into his ribs, sending him and the coin purse tumbling. Flynn scrambled after it, but Destin grabbed him and rolled, pinning him against the ground. 
“I would prefer dinner first,” Flynn said with a half-smile as he attempted to wriggle free. 
“Why are you fighting over a few coins? I’m sure you have plenty. I swear, all you people care about is your money.” Destin’s voice was bitter.
Something slammed into his chest. It was Flynn’s legs. The realization came a moment too late. Destin was tossed through the air before slamming face-first into the ground. The salty taste of blood smeared Destin’s tongue, and a warm trickle ran down the corner of his mouth. The inside of his lip was bleeding. He licked it away. He had landed next to the coin purse. With effort, he forced himself onto his hands and knees and started crawling for it.
Just as he felt his hand close around the leather, another sharp, crushing pain in his side forced him to roll onto his back. The kick had knocked the air out of him, and Flynn straddled him, pinning him to the ground. He fought to catch his breath; his eyes were wide, fear taking over as he realized what was happening. The cold, sharp edge of his own blade pressed against his throat.
“Coin is not the exclusive measure of wealth.” Flynn was panting, and his weight pressed against Destin’s chest. 
“That’s easy for one of you to say.” His face grew warm, his lips tightened, and he could feel the blood pulsing in his neck.
Despite Destin’s scowl, something seemed to flicker in the man’s green eyes, and he smiled again.
“I have never turned my nose up at the poor. However, I can not say I have been benevolent either. How about this? If you accompany me, I will see no need to inform the guards of this incident, and we can put it all behind us.” Flynn didn’t move the dagger, but his face softened. 
“Where are you going?” 
“I’m bound for the Royal Army.” 
“What? The Royal Army? You want me to join the military with you?” Destin may have laughed in different circumstances, but with how close the blade was to his neck, he didn’t want to risk the movement.
“I would find it preferable to prison, but then again, I’m not you. If you wish, I can call the guards.”
He struggled to think of another way out of this. How could he have gotten himself caught? He was better than that.
“What’s stopping you from turning me over the moment I agree?”
“My word as a Redain.”
“And your last name means you can’t lie? I’ll take my chances with the guards.”
He had spent his share of time locked in a cell. Once he sent word to the Guild of Shadows, they would get him out. Many men had given him their word before, and none of them had kept it. Flynn was no different. He would turn him over before they passed the city walls.
“As you wish.” Flynn lifted his head and yelled without moving the dagger. “Guards!”
Moments later, two large men appeared with swords in hand, looking from one man to the other, then to the coin purse in Destin’s hand. The pressure eased as Flynn lifted the dagger from his throat, but he still didn’t move. There was no use. Flynn had him pinned, and if he attempted to flee, the guards would immediately apprehend him. 
“This man stole my coin purse.” Flynn nodded at Destin’s hand. 
“This is my coin purse. This…this man told me to give it to him…and when I refused, he pushed me to the ground…and shoved his knife to my throat.” 
Looking from one man to the other, the guards lifted their swords, one pointing his in Destin’s face and the other at Flynn’s. 
“Stand up, both of you,” the guard, pointing at Destin, said as they glowered. Flynn did as he was told and stood, allowing Destin to reach his feet. Glancing at Flynn as he stood, he noticed a surprising lack of concern. In fact, the man appeared to be enjoying this. The guards kept their swords pointed at the two men. One stuck out his hand and motioned with his fingers for the pouch. Destin obeyed and placed the purse in his hand. The guard took it and glared at them both.
“Who called for us?” the other asked. 
“I did,” Flynn said. “Had I been the one to steal the purse, would I have called for you?”
“Pretty convenient, isn’t it? You have the knife, and I’m pinned to the ground, but somehow, I’m the thief here?” Destin watched the guards’ expressions. They appeared to be buying it. Hopefully, his luck would hold out.
“Both of you, turn around.” The guard’s voice was gruff and exact. Destin did as he was told, meeting Flynn’s eyes as he turned. The man was still smiling. Why was he smiling? What could be so amusing? 
Destin stood facing down the alley for a few moments when something cold slapped his wrist. He attempted to turn, but a guard twisted his arm back and grabbed his shoulder, preventing him from moving as the second cuff locked to his other wrist. He looked over at Flynn, who seemed pleased. The guard who had been cuffing him approached Flynn, giving him the money purse.
“Thank you, sir.”
“What? Why are you giving him my coin purse?” Destin asked, his face reddening. He wasn’t sure if he was angry because he’d been caught or because he had put himself in this situation. It was likely a combination of both.
“Don’t worry, you can have your coin purse.” The guard who had applied the cuffs grabbed his waist and tugged a leather coin pouch free from his belt, holding it in Destin’s face. He let out a sigh and looked down. He felt a forceful tug on his shoulder. As the guards led him away, he looked back at Flynn, who raised his eyebrows and gave him a quick wave.

While being escorted to jail, he spotted a member of the Guild of Shadows and with a quick hand movement, informed them he was a guild member. Asking them for help would be risky; he hadn’t been an active member for years. If they agreed to help, it would likely require him to rejoin the guild. Despite a preference to work alone, he wouldn’t refuse if they asked.
The jail was a small room with iron bars on either side. A stone wall along the front held a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron. The air was musty and tinged with a faint aroma of urine. A shallow, uncomfortable-looking straw bed lay in the corner. Apart from the smell, it wasn’t much different from his own home. The guard pushed him into the cell, closing and locking the door behind him. Destin listened to the armored clank of footsteps as the guard walked away.
A noise from outside drew his attention to the small window with iron bars across it. He stepped onto his bed, peering outside. A thin man with messy dark hair and dark clothing stood a few feet below. Destin had to squint at the man before realizing it was Welt.
“Took you guys long enough.” 
Destin smiled. Soon, this would be a distant memory.
“When news reached us of your arrest, the guild had to convene a meeting.” Welt looked up at Destin. He seemed much older than the teenager Destin remembered working with.
“Why did you have to convene a meeting?”
“It’s been three years since you were a guild member. We couldn’t do anything without approval from the guild leader.” Welt shifted as he looked around the alley.
“There wasn’t a guild meeting to break a fourteen-year-old boy out, so why did they need one this time?” Destin watched Welt; something wasn’t right. He could not maintain eye contact.
“Things have changed,” Welt said, glancing up at Destin.
“What’s wrong, Welt? Hayne can’t still be that angry at me, could he? If anyone should be mad, it should be Nyx.”
“Um, well…you see…” Welt paused and looked away.
“Spit it out already.”
He glanced back up at Destin, then said, “Hayne’s dead. He died a year ago.”
Destin felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest. Hayne was old when he left, but dead? He staggered back from the window. His mentor. The man who taught him everything he knew. How could this have happened? Destin took a deep breath and gathered himself. There was nothing he could do for him now. There would be plenty of time to grieve later. He peered back out the window, letting his mind refocus on the present. 
“Well, that shouldn’t matter. I was in good standing with most of the members of the guild. Who’s the new leader?” Welt paced back and forth, refusing to make eye contact. 
“Welt, answer me; who is the new leader?”
“Nyx.” 
His face dropped. All the hope he had clung to slipped away. Welt had an almost apologetic look on his face, and Destin knew the answer to his next question before he asked, but he had to ask, anyway.
“So, are you here to help get me out?” 
“I’m afraid not,” Welt replied. “Nyx wanted me to come here and remind you that you are not a member of the Guild of Shadows anymore and that you can find your own way out of this mess.”
Destin sank into the straw bed, his back sliding against the coarse stone wall. This had been his last hope of getting out of here. The penalty for stealing was the removal of one of your hands. He had avoided this so far because of his skill and influence with the guild, but with Hayne dead and Nyx in charge, that didn’t appear to be an option anymore.
“I’m sorry, Destin. Most of the guild agreed to break you out so long as you agreed to rejoin. Nyx wouldn’t have it. She said, you made this mess, and you can clean it up.”
He could no longer see Welt, but he could still hear the remorse in his voice. 
“It’s alright, Welt. I’ll figure something out, just let Nyx know I’ll return the favor one day.” Destin heard a shuffling sound, then everything went quiet again. Suddenly, he felt empty, as if all his energy had been drained. Nothing could have made this day worse; Hayne was dead, he was in jail, and soon he would be missing a hand. The aches in his body from the fight with Flynn seemed to fade, no longer important. He wanted to weep for Hayne, but that’s not what he would have wanted. Instead, he touched two fingers to his chest, just over his heart, and bowed his head in honor.
Destin sat down on the cot. His thoughts drifted from Hayne to the punishment he would soon be facing. What good is a one-handed thief? The thought rolled through his mind as the guards brought his dinner, pushing it through a hole in the door, just big enough for the plate to fit. It clattered against the floor, slinging bits of food through the air, but he didn’t touch it. His mind remained focused on the future and the past.
Maybe he should have taken the offer. He wouldn’t be waiting for someone to take his hand if he had agreed to join the Royal Army. He knew how people acted around someone with a missing hand. How you lost it didn’t matter; everyone assumed you were a thief, their guards always up. It was the worst thing that could happen to someone like him. If he were dead, he wouldn’t need to worry about how to eat.
It was too late to worry about it now. He pulled his blanket over his head and went to sleep. 
The next day, Destin awoke to the sound of keys at his door. It must be time. He rubbed his wrists but didn’t bother pulling the blanket down. Every part of him wanted to be defiant, to fight back, but he knew there was no point. Nothing could save him now. The guild had turned its back on him, just as the rest of the world had.
“Stand up.” The guard’s voice was stern.
“Why?” Destin said without moving.
“I said, stand.”
Destin could hear the annoyance in the guard’s voice, and decided against saying anything more. He wasn’t in the mood to take a beating and lose his hand.
He pulled the blanket from his face and sat up, then forced himself to his feet. The guard stood at the door of his cell, drumming his fingers on his wooden cudgel, waiting for him to try something. He walked to the door and followed the guard out of his cell, surprised to see Flynn standing there, dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day before, though it seemed he had laundered them.
“Did you come to watch?” Destin’s voice was tainted with disdain and anger.
“I considered it. However, I thought I might reiterate my previous offer. You can choose to go through life on your own, but I’m offering a different path. You can go with me and join the Royal Army, or allow them to remove your hand.” Flynn had an earnest look on his face.
What was he supposed to do? Destin stood frozen, his eyes flitting from the guard to Flynn. He narrowed them. This man wanted something. Why else would he be trying to help, especially after stealing from him?
“I have spoken with the captain of the City Guard and explained that I will take full responsibility for you as long as you accept my offer. However, if you decline, they will carry out the sentence.”
He stared at Flynn in disbelief. None of this made sense. Even if he wanted something, Destin had nothing to offer.
“I don’t…Why are you doing this?”
“If it were my hand in jeopardy, I would not be worrying about someone else’s motivation. You must make your decision.”
“I…I guess I’ll go with you,” Destin said.
“Excellent, then follow me. We have a long hike ahead of us, and Captain Craley is waiting.”