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  THIEF’S CURSE

  MAGIC OF DIMMINGWOOD, BOOK THREE

  C. Greenwood

  Copyright © 2017 C. Greenwood

  Edited by Victory Editing

  Formatted by Polgarus Studios

  Cover illustration by Michael Gauss

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excepting brief review quotes, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, real events, locations, or organizations is purely coincidental.

  THIEF’S CURSE

  MAGIC OF DIMMINGWOOD, BOOK THREE

  Damaged. Rebellious. Vengeful.

  When Rideon’s scheme to rescue his brother goes horribly wrong, he forms a new plan—one that turns former allies into foes. Rebelling against the rule of the cunning thief king, he steals the dreaded Thief’s Blade and leads a dangerous faction of the guild on a new mission. But the past isn’t done with Rideon. A new opportunity for vengeance beckons.

  After the ambitious son of a noble offers a tempting deal, a deadly bargain is struck, leading Rideon down a treacherous path. Can he resist the call of darkness, control the magic of his cursed amulet, and hold together his growing band of followers? Or will one final gamble bring about the end of Rideon the Red Hand?

  * * *

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  PROLOGUE

  It is difficult to finish my record of events. The tip of my quill skips erratically across the rough, warped parchment. The pages of my book are damaged and mostly unreadable. The daylight filtering through the hole in the wall above me fades. Just another reminder that my time is running out, that the one thread connecting me to the past is about to be severed. This is my last entry.

  From somewhere nearby I hear the voices of my companions, their indistinct words echoing hollowly through the caverns and offshooting passages of the cave. The waterfall tumbling down the face of the rock outside adds its own rushing, roaring noise. The light spray of its mist is carried on the evening breeze through the crevice that serves as my window to the outdoors.

  I sit alone on the cold stone floor with my book balanced across my knees and try to decide what to write down in the little empty space that is left to me. To record it all is impossible. But which events are the most important? My mind swirls in confusion.

  The magic amulet glares up at me, its soft purple glow a distraction. It lies on the floor where I’ve dropped it. Will I put it on again? Or is it better to resist? To preserve what little remains of my former self?

  I’m not even sure the past is worth preserving. Even my little leather-bound book now seems a pathetic attempt to capture and save what is already lost…

  CHAPTER ONE

  The silver glow of the full moon in the clear night sky was trying to betray me. I wore all black and clung to the deepest shadows lining the way. But I felt exposed and conspicuous as I followed the lonely road winding toward Selbius Castle at the top of the hill. Maybe I should have waited for a darker night or a later hour. But every moment that passed was another moment Ferran spent in captivity. I could no longer wait idle, hoping for some miracle, for some unreliable ally to deliver him back to me. I had to take action.

  I gripped the coil of rope on my shoulder and kept my eyes open for anything that moved on the surrounding landscape. I half feared Ada would come running after me, having woken and discovered I had slipped from my blankets and crept out of our room above the Ravenous Wolf. But there was no soft patter of feet running up the street behind me. The only footsteps I heard were my own, echoing faintly across the cobbles.

  No one would anticipate this move, I was sure. They would expect me to rest and recover my strength. My throat was still sore, my skin raw from the rope that had been twisted around my neck mere hours ago. Had it been only this morning that I had been caught in a failed assassination attempt and executed? My enemies had left me hanging from a tree, presumed dead. The quick thinking of my friends, cutting me down and carrying me to safety, had saved me.

  But more than my friends, it was the magic amulet I had to thank. My mind skittered away from the unsettling thought. I could imagine the charm now, glowing warmly inside the handkerchief I had bundled it up in before stowing it in the bottom of a trunk back in my room. I couldn’t bring myself to wear the thing anymore. This time there was no question whether the gift from a crazy old riverwoman had revived me. I had been fully dead, and the amulet had returned me to life. But immortality came with a price. Every time the amulet brought me back, it took away a piece of me. It stole my memories. Even my recollection of the past few weeks was fuzzy now.

  As the long shadow of the castle wall fell over me, I shook aside the thought. There was no room in tonight’s plan for distractions. I had to focus on the purpose before me. I could work out what to do about the amulet later.

  I could see the gates up ahead, but I had no intention of taking the usual entrance into the courtyard surrounding the keep. I would never gain admittance at this hour. More importantly, I didn’t want the guards at the gate to remember me.

  Instead, I cut around back, circling the wall to approach from the rear. Here I could see the edge of Deerwood, the praetor’s private hunting grounds, spreading out behind the castle. The forest looked peaceful bathed in moonlight. Still I shuddered. It was strange to look upon the place where I had so recently died by violence even if my death hadn’t been permanent.

  Returning my attention to the high barrier before me, I was relieved to see the stone blocks making up the wall were as rough and uneven as I remembered. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find hand and footholds in the crevices between the rocks. I craned my head back. It was going to be a long climb. Once I wouldn’t have dreamed of attempting it. But I’d had some practice in scaling walls lately. I was confident I could make it.

  Resettling the coil of rope on my shoulder—I would need that later—I began my ascent. I didn’t hurry, carefully choosing one handhold, then another. I refused to imagine what might happen if any guards patrolling the grounds wandered this way. The distance between me and the ground widened. My muscles soon grew tired from the tension of holding my weight. The rough rock scraped my hands where I hadn’t dared to wear gloves for fear they would interfere with my grip. I was careful not to look down.

  It seemed I had been climbing forever when, suddenly, the top of the wall loomed above me. I pulled myself over the edge and took a moment to catch my breath. The ledge where I perched was about two feet wide, big enough that I could relax for a moment and prepare for my descent down the other side. The courtyard below seemed a dizzying distance away and was paved with cobbles. There would be no surviving a fall from this height—not now that I wasn’t wearing my magic amulet anymore. Without the charm, I was painfully aware of my vulnerability. Yet I didn’t regret leaving it behind. I needed a clear head tonight.

  As the cool evening breeze played over me, drying the sweat on my forehead, I eased myself over the side and began my descent. This was faster than coming up, but I had the disadvantage of having to look down to see where I was going. Luckily, the courtyard below was empty. Nothing moved in the moonlight.

  As soon as my feet touched the cobbles, I was off. With no time to collect my breath, I melted into the shadows and followed the curving wall leading me closer to the keep. There were several smaller buildings of the same gray stone as the rest of the castle, but I avoided those. I didn’t know who lived in them or whether they might be soldiers’ barracks. There was only one place I needed to break into tonight, and that was the k
eep itself.

  I saw it up ahead, the tallest building encircled by the outer walls. I had visited it once before, under the light of day. I recognized the wide steps leading to the entrance. The front would be guarded I knew. So I didn’t approach it directly but cut around behind the stables and neared the keep from behind. This direction suited me well, because it brought me to the tower room on the corner.

  Here I faced the last challenge that stood between me and my goal. Scaling the side of the keep itself would be more difficult than climbing the outer wall around the courtyard. The keep was higher, the window letting into the tower room above impossibly far away. But I couldn’t let that deter me. If my information was right, Ferran was in that tower. Nothing but this last climb stood between my brother and me.

  I knew this area wouldn’t be as unguarded as all the rest. This was the praetor of Ellesus’s keep, and as I knew all too well, there had recently been an attempt on his life. His castle would not be unwatched. I found a cluster of shrubs to hide in and waited, watching the battlements above. This part might be easier if I had brought along a companion to help. But I wasn’t willing to risk bringing Ada or any of my thief friends. Not because I was concerned for their safety but because it would increase the chances of our being caught. It was easier for one to be invisible than two.

  I didn’t have long to wait in the bushes before a pair of silhouettes passed along the edge of the castle roof and disappeared again. Smothering my impatience, I waited some more, timing how long it took them to circle back around. After they passed by once more, I leaped into action. As soon as they were gone from view, I abandoned my hiding place and began my climb up the face of the keep. I would have a limited amount of time to make this climb before the guards returned.

  I was right to expect a harder ascent. I had only gotten a short distance off the ground when I lost my grip and fell, hitting the earth with a soft thud. Luckily, I hadn’t fallen far. I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain where I had landed on my shoulder. I whipped off my cloak and anything else that might add weight and tossed the articles into the bushes. It was just as well I had already left my magic bow and quiver of arrows back at my lodgings.

  Now I began the steep climb again. I hadn’t lost much time, but my confidence was shaken. Not only was this wall higher than the one before it but I was already tired from my earlier efforts. Muscle weakness and trembling in my limbs set in quickly. The knowledge that I had to hurry made me clumsy. More than once I trusted my weight to a bad toehold and had to scramble to find another before I could take a second fall. I was high enough now I wouldn’t walk away from another tumble.

  I kept my eyes fixed on the ledge below the small window in the tower. That destination gradually grew closer until, finally, I reached out and caught the stone lip with my fingers and hoisted myself up to it.

  There was no glass or even bars over the opening. I supposed it was considered impossible anyone would enter this way. There was only a thick bit of red tapestry flapping like a curtain in the wind. I thrust this aside with one arm and quietly slid feetfirst over the ledge and into the darkness beyond. The interior was inky black after the pale moonlight outside. I blinked, my eyes struggling to adjust to the deep shadows.

  Slowly I became accustomed enough to the dimness to make out my surroundings. The room’s few furnishings stood out as indistinct shapes. A tall cupboard was nearby, the sort of cabinet where clothes might be kept. There was also a trunk beside the window and a stool drawn up to a small table. The scattering of books across the table showed that at least the room’s occupant had been provided with some means of entertaining himself. But I noted with distaste the familiar smells of confinement, an indicator that despite its single window, the room was not well aired or frequently cleaned.

  I took in these details, but my real interest was focused on the narrow bed in the center of the room. A skinny figure slept among the tangle of blankets. My spirits leapt as I recognized the tousled head peeking out from under those blankets. How many times had I seen my brother sleeping just like that in a round tower room very similar to this one—a place that had been a prison to both of us for far too long?

  Moved by the memory, it was a moment before I could stiffen up my feelings enough to cross the room and shake the sleeping figure awake.

  “Ferran, I’ve come for you! I’m going to get you out of here. Wake up,” I whispered urgently.

  My brother’s eyes opened, and he gave a startled yelp. Fortunately, the noise was muffled beneath the hand I had placed over his mouth as a precaution.

  “Luka! How did you get in here?” he asked, quickly lowering his voice at my shushing sounds.

  I didn’t admonish him for calling me by my old name. Although our new identities were supposed to be Rideon and Ardeon now, he still called me Luka sometimes and in my head I still thought of him as Ferran. Besides, if there was anyone around to hear us right now, we would have much bigger problems than names to worry about.

  “Are you all right? Have they hurt you?” I asked quietly, ignoring his question.

  “No. But I’m not allowed to leave the room and nobody comes in, except a few servants who bring me food,” he said. “I don’t like it here. It reminds me of that other place.”

  “I know,” I said, thinking of the Eyeless Tower. “Have you seen the praetor?”

  “Who?”

  I didn’t explain. Obviously the praetor of Ellesus, who was holding my brother here as a potential political pawn, hadn’t bothered to look in on his prisoner personally.

  “Listen,” I said. “Does anyone guard you?”

  “Only Valko. He’s usually just outside the door,” answered Ferran.

  Valko. Greater than the surprise of learning the room was guarded by our old enemy with the scarred chin was my dismay at learning the exit was blocked. I had hoped to get Ferran out by a safer route than the way I had entered.

  Gesturing for him to be still, I tiptoed across the room and pressed my ear to the thick wooden door. I heard nothing. Slowly, carefully, I tried the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Just as well. I wasn’t prepared to fend off Valko and any other castle servants he might summon if he saw me. It had always been an unrealistic hope to leave this way. Even assuming we could make it past the door and its guard, I wasn’t familiar with this part of the castle. I would never have been able to find an exit in the dark.

  I went back to Ferran. “We’re going to have to go through the window,” I told my brother, unrolling the coil of rope I had been carrying over my shoulder in case of this very situation.

  “I’m going to put this around you and lower you to the ground,” I said.

  Ferran’s eyes widened, but he didn’t argue as I helped him clamber up onto the edge of the window and looped the rope under his arms.

  “Don’t be scared,” I said. “I’m not going to let you fall. Just don’t look down.”

  He nodded wordlessly. I knew a moment’s apprehension as he climbed out the window. He had always been afraid of heights. But there was unquestioning trust in his eyes as he watched me brace myself against his weight. The rope grew taut, and I began slowly feeding the line out the window. Ferran sank lower until the top of his head disappeared from view.

  For a tense couple of minutes there was no sound but the rough sound of the rope sliding through my hands and over the ledge. I wished I had worn gloves for this part. My brother was heavier than he looked, and the line soon began to burn and bite into my hands.

  I estimated Ferran was about halfway to the ground when an unexpected clanking noise interrupted the silence. I froze, my heart skipping a full beat. The sound had come from the door. It took me a second to realize what was happening. The clanking, scratching noise was the sound of a key in the lock. Someone was coming in.

  We couldn’t be caught in this vulnerable position.

  I had only an instant to free my hands by hastily tying the taut rope around the nearby bedpost, holding Ferran in place. T
hen I faced the opening door.

  A dark figure appeared in the doorway, outlined by the faint light from the corridor. He didn’t wear the three-cornered hat or the cloak I had last seen him in, and his face was cast in shadow. But I didn’t need to see the details to sense who I was facing—Valko, the man with the scarred chin who had been pursuing us since the beginning.

  He only paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before him. Then he ran into the room, charging right at me. A glint of steel warned he had a knife in his hand. But there was no time to draw my own short blade from my belt. I could only leap aside at the last instant. As he struggled to stop his momentum and turn on me, I grabbed his collar from behind. With all my strength, I slung him roughly into the wall beside the window. I heard a ringing crack as his head struck stone, and then he collapsed into a still heap.

  It had all happened so fast there had been no time to think. I had acted purely on instinct. Now I nudged my enemy with my foot. He was still breathing but appeared to be unconscious. At least he hadn’t had the chance to shout an alarm. The door stood open behind him, but no other intruders came charging in. I had bought us a little more time. Ferran must be wondering why he had stopped moving and what was going on up here as he dangled suspended halfway down the wall. I could still get him to the ground before anyone else caught us.

  There was just one thing I had to do first. As I stood over my fallen enemy, thinking of all the times he had nearly killed us, I knew I had to finish him. He would never stop hunting us until I did. It went against the grain to kill someone while he was unconscious and helpless. But for this man I would make an exception.

  I drew the small knife from my belt and knelt over Valko. But before I could make another move, there came an unexpected noise—the terrible sound of rope sliding. I turned to see that my hastily tied knot around the bedpost had come undone.