A Solution Through Shadows Chapter VII

Echoes deafened Oren’s senses, and he thought they would drive him mad. But the girl’s leading touch kept him grounded, disregarding the sword in his grasp for the soft, small warm hold on his hand.

Neither spoke as the breathing and footsteps made enough noise. Oren fought back questions as the girl slowed, the steps coming to a stop, and their echoes with them. She muttered about where the handle was before a click resounded down the passage, and a door swung out to the moon-lit night.

“There we are,” she whispered as they stepped out to the street, wrapping her arms around her body. “I told you, didn’t I?”

Oren said nothing, watching the girl stand in the middle of the cobblestone, staring at the moon in her glowing, pale face. His stomach dropped, heart skipping a beat as he checked the sword.

“I’ll have plenty of time to make it,” Oren said to himself, glancing back to the girl still transfixed to the light. “Are … you enjoyin’ yourself?”

“This is the only time I come out here on my own,” the girl whispered, dropping her gaze a little to smile. “When my family’s asleep and can’t do anything to stop me. Father would rather my face not be shown anywhere even in the Market District.”

She turned to Oren, mouth making soundless words as her eyes gleamed in the light, catching his breath.

“May I … see your face?”

Oren’s hand reached for his mask, but he stopped on the touch of the fabric. He grimaced and dropped his hand as Jaye’s and Ora’s faces flashed in his mind.

“I shouldn’t,” Oren gave the girl a furrowed brow. “No doubt they’ll link me to the crime in a few days. And I’d like a few more days to my life.

The girl stepped into Oren’s space with a desperate look. “I won’t tell!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what you did,” Oren continued, tilting his head up to the moon. “I just don’t want to see you get into a kind of trouble that leads to death. This way, you won’t have a clear description if you’re caught conspirin’ with me.”

“I—” The girl hesitated, looking to the ground beside them and sighed. “Do you really think they could?”

“With the right people, they will,” Oren said, giving the girl a melancholic gaze at the sight of distress in her eyes. “This is for your sake.”

She got into his face, staring softly at Oren long enough that he averted his gaze. “But if they don’t, come find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

Oren didn’t say anything, his grip tightening on the sword in his hand, before a light touch to his clothed cheek brought his attention back to the girl. Her eyes were closed, and lips agape.

“My name is Delilah.”

Her hand dragged the mask from Oren’s face and pressed her lips into his before he could defuse the matter.

Oren froze in the tender touch Delilah gave him. A foreign warmth enveloped his heart the longer he remained with Delilah in the embrace. Oren gave in, leaning into her to meet eager resistance, and a warmth fiercer than his own until she pulled away.

He stumbled into her, and they struggled to recover, bringing Delilah into his chest with one arm as her eyes opened wide, staring up to him with her unblemished face in a wandering gaze.

They remained there for a moment longer before Delilah pulled his mask up and stepped away, lingering for a moment before hurrying to the tunnel. Oren pursed his lips, longing for the touch as Delilah’s warmth evaporated from his body. He watched her go back into the tunnel, opening his mouth.

“Thank you, Delilah.”

Delilah paused for a moment, twisting back to him with an inquisitive look before smiling wide and stepped back into the darkness.

Oren took a step after her, but remembered his assignment with a sigh, and started down the street.

He maintained his cover and darted around the soldiers, patrolling the night with their torches and swinging chainmail, more attentive than the guard at Rey’s manor.

A lone fire burned in the Farming District where two figures stood beside it. Neither spoke to each other as Oren crept forward in his low profile before they turned to him with a skeptical eye.

“It’s me,” Oren growled, pulling his mask away to greet the smirk of the hooded figure, and Geob’s scowl.

“After all this time, I’d have thought you forgot all you learned,” Geob said, turning back to the fire.

“It’s only been six years.” Oren stepped to the older man with the sword held out. “Gettin’ past the quila proved challengin’ enough, no one else would’ve been able to get through that manor without a hard time.”

Geob opened his mouth to retort, but the drawing of a sword interrupted him and prompted the two thieves to the hooded figure studying the silver-patterned edge before groaning.

“Of course, Lord Rey didn’t bother to sharpen the damn thing,” the man whispered, sheathing the sword as he turned to Oren. “But I can’t complain too much. You honored your end of the deal so I have the two-hundred coin to uphold mine.”

Reaching for his belt, the hooded man brought out a large purse that made Oren’s eyes widen at the size, then they went wider when the older man handed the thief his reward.

“Be wise with what you do with the money, kid,” he warned, turning his back on Oren. “Hopefully, the next time we meet, it won’t be back here with this pitiful lot.”

“Yeah,” Oren breathed, moving to holster the purse to his belt, but his wrist got caught in Geob’s clawed hand.

“You still have to pay the employer’s fee,” Geob snarled. “An’ you have your end of the deal to pay. Or did you forget that detail?”

“Drop the matter.”

Oren’s and Geob’s attention turned to the man still close, buckling his newly acquired sword next to another one at his waist. Oren noted how large the man’s forearms were.

“Our agreement did not go through the thieves. The boy owes you nothing.” The hooded man pointed out.

“The boy an’ I came to an agreement just for him to get by.” Geob growled, tightening his hold on Oren’s wrist as Oren shifted his weight and assessed how he was going to break free.

“I’ve been quiet about your agreement … waitin’ for the one thing that belongs to me, an’ I won’t allow this to slip through without gettin’ what I am rightfully due. But if we’re goin’ to play your game of breakin’ contracts, Kentigern, I ought to inform the guard of a Rogue’s presence in Caladh.”

Oren stilled his body, watching the hooded figure standing still in the light of the fire.

“Well, it is a breach of our contract, isn’t it?” Kentigern said in his light-hearted tone of steel, stepping back to the other humanoids. “And … I can’t afford the Vanguard coming after me. Tell you what, Geob; I’ll spare the boy of having to give you a portion of his rightful earning. I have a better payout for you instead.”

Geob chuckled as he stepped closer to the Rogue, pulling Oren in tow as Kentigern patted the left side of his belt.

“All these years, keepin’ hold of that coin,” Geob noted as Kentigern continued to fumble. “Would’a been a rich man, had you stayed with the Journey-Men.”

Kentigern turned to Geob with a scrunched mouth. “A rich man? No, no, I would never call myself a rich man. Even with the Journey-Men.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “But … if I do fancy myself something, it’d be—”

Oren blinked as Kentigern threw his cloak to the side with his arm extended out and a blade in hand, shining in a red glint by the firelight. Geob’s hold on Oren’s wrist slacked, and his body collapsed to the ground in a heavy thud. Oren dared to look down and held back a scream, scrambling away from the beheaded corpse.

The older man sighed, bringing Oren’s attention to him as he relaxed his sword arm.

“Never thought I’d get to end the thieves after I left Caladh,” Kentigern remarked, moving to Geob’s body and picked it up with his one hand to toss it into the fire pit before looking back to Oren, indiscernible in his silhouette. “But I pity the ackans trapped in the weaves of the thieving culture, unwanting to partake in such activities. They’ll soon find themselves caught in the midst of a battle for power, considering Geob was the last of them with any clout to maintain their business. And I’m sure you won’t be returning to their ranks to revive them either. Makes me wonder … if next year’s harvest will be bountiful from the massacres soon to happen.”

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” Oren growled, bringing Kentigern to face him.

“Well, yes and no.” Kentigern said. “Honestly, I just came for the sword. I’d have preferred to have found another of its kind out in Air Fhagail. But, the time it’d take to venture beyond my home is too great. And getting rid of the thieves was simply an added bonus … its repercussions I hope to see when I come back.”

Kentigern’s sword rested on Oren’s shoulder, and Oren gulped in the touch of the slight edge.

“I hope you won’t bring the Vanguard’s attention to this matter,” Kentigern whispered as the fire behind him brightened and darkened everything else. “Go home, spend that coin wisely. If you do well; don’t answer any questions and don’t ask any, I’ll consider sparing your life when I return.”

The hooded figure lifted his sword and moved for the wall, Oren watching him go until the stench of the burning body became unbearable and he wretched into the grass, heaving as the wave of nausea passed.

Oren shot his head up to watch Kentigern, but he had disappeared into the night.