Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Read online

  REBORN

  LELA ROBICHAUX

  REBORN

  Copyright© 2016 by LELA ROBICHAUX

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  To my family who have supported me through this journey; especially my mother, whose presence is always with me and encouraging me to reach for my dreams.

  ONE

  Meylaran Moonshadow crept toward the darkened home, eyes adjusting to the inky surroundings. Her elven sight allowed her eyes to shift so the darkness became much like twilight. Creeping silently, she carefully made her way toward the door. A door she was sure would be locked, especially in Seaside where thieves were as common as waves on the ocean. She crouched in front of the door, closed her eyes and imagined Garrin mirroring her movements at the front of the home.

  Taking a steadying breath, she ran her hand over the rough wood and came to the cold metal of the lock. From her left boot, she pulled a small pouch. Her deft fingers had it open within seconds and she was selecting the slender tool she would need to conquer this obstacle. Quiet as a whisper, she slipped it into the lock and began to move the rod until she felt the hook at the end catch. Careful now. She jerked it to her right and heard the distinctive “snick” of the mechanism. A half-hearted grin that only turned up one side of her mouth spread across her mysterious face. She brushed a stray lock of her auburn hair behind a slightly pointed ear. Only half her heritage was elven but it lent her a beauty that was uncommon in the human race. Mingled with her mother’s human inheritance, it gave her an unusual and exotic appearance.

  The thudding of her heart and the grip of her insides calmed. She would never love this as much as Garrin. She didn’t enjoy this part of her chosen profession. Well, it puts food in my stomach and a roof over my head, she thought and turned the handle, pushing the door inward. Moving in a crouch she entered the house, stopping just inside for her eyesight to adjust once again to the changing darkness.

  She let her other senses reach out to her surroundings. She heard the skittering of tiny feet rush from one end of the room to the other. Unmistakably a rodent searching for its next meal. She inhaled through her nose and was assailed by a mixture of smells - different herbs, oil, flour, the clean smell of soap and a whiff of fresh water. Kitchen. As she moved her eyes around the room, shapes formed and became recognizable. There was a table to her left and a counter than ran the length of the wall on the right.

  Mey’s thoughts again turned to Garrin. He would be in the front of the house. The plan was for each to enter at a different point and make their way toward one another in the center as they searched for the mask. All they had was a description. She had no idea why the mask was so important, but the price was right and it would keep her and Garrin fed and housed for the next month. When the mage approached them with the prospect of locating and obtaining the magical mask, the look in Garrin’s eye had told her this was most certainly their next project.

  She almost laughed aloud as she thought of how much Garrin enjoyed these expeditions. He was like a child anticipating gifts at a lifeday celebration. If he had his way, they would support themselves on nothing but sneaking into people’s homes and happening upon their most luxurious belongings.

  With a shake of her head, she moved further into the room. The cupboards and shelves that lined the wall to her right looked like a good place to begin. She searched very quickly and very thoroughly. All the obvious places yielded nothing. She moved on to the less obvious; looking in jars filled with flour, sugar and dried herbs. A muffled thud froze her instantly. Her heart hammered as she frantically squinted into the darkness.

  Damn, Garrin, could you be any clumsier?

  Slowly replacing the jar on a low shelf, Mey moved toward the doorway leading into the next room.

  She recognized the shape of a large table, chairs pushed closely around it. The walls were covered with tapestries and paintings. Except for the front wall. This entire wall was lined with rows of shelves holding every kind of book she could have imagined. Her eyes widened slightly. Curiosity threatened to overwhelm her but she reigned herself in and deliberately started searching the opposite wall where the largest painting, an old woman in black, hung.

  Checking behind all the paintings, under all the chairs and beneath the table, she found naught. Nothing but papers hidden in the secret drawers and cubbies the owner probably thought were cleverly concealed. She paused before the bookshelves, breathing in the musty smell of the books.

  Sharp memories of her father stabbed at her; reading to her at night while she fought sleep, longing to hear his voice make the music of the words come alive and dance in her mind. Scowling at the tear rising to sting her eye, she forced the memory back and focused on the job at hand.

  A sudden movement in her peripheral vision disturbed her from her reverie. Just a shadow. Jumpy tonight, eh, Moonshadow? She reprimanded herself silently.

  Garrin was being awfully inept tonight; he wasn’t keeping it very subtle. She sighed softly, returning her attention to the bookshelf. Her fingers played lightly over the spines of the books, feeling the raised lettering and leather bindings covering each one. She scanned the titles: Life on Cantor: An Adventurer’s Guide, The Power of Herbs, Disguises for Every Occasion. She paused. What would a flour merchant need with disguises? Perhaps it was just a hobby, but the book stood out and not just because of its title. It was the largest book on this shelf. She pulled it from its spot.

  The cover was plain, nothing ornate. But when she opened it, excitement surged from her fingertips all the way through her body like a sudden bolt of lightning. The pages had been cut away and made hollow. Inside sat a small golden mask; or rather, golden-plated. The mask itself was made from cloth, covered with sheets of thinly hammered gold, brightly painted etchings lining the edge. They could have been words, but none that Mey had ever seen. A faintly familiar and annoying tug at her mind quickly let her know this item had magical properties.

  This was what they had come for. Her stomach leapt. She quickly took the mask and replaced the book exactly where she had found it. She placed the mask into a small wooden box given to them by the mage and slid it into her tunic. She made her way back through the kitchen to the door she had entered. She slipped out quietly, took the lock-pick from her boot and made sure the lock was secure once again. Everything as it was. She made her way around the side of the home, forcing herself to take slow, steady steps.

  Keeping her eyes on her feet, she ran right into something very solid. Biting her lip to hold back the scream that would have escaped otherwise, she looked up. Realizing immediately who it was, her racing heart returned to normal and anger quickly took over.

  “Damnit, Garrin!” she whispered as she slapped him lightly. “What are you doing? You’ve been awfully clumsy tonight!”

  “What? How am I clumsy? I was looking where I was going!”

  She scowled at him, green eyes sparkling. “You know what I mean. All that noise inside and then letting me see you moving about. What were you trying to do, wake the dead? I’ve got the mask, by the way,” she added, pulling it from her tunic to show him.

  Elation overtook him and he reached for the thin box. “Wait.” A look of confusion passed over his fea
tures. “I never made it inside. The lock – I couldn’t spring it…” He let the sentence trail off as he grasped the box. Sudden understanding crossed his face and his eyes widened as he seemed to focus on something behind her.

  Mey turned, and not a moment too soon. Slinking up from behind were two men. As soon as they realized they’d been spotted, they rushed at Mey and Garrin. With only a split second to make a decision, Garrin shoved the box into his own tunic and grabbed Mey’s arm. He pulled her out of the way just as the men jumped at the spot where they had previously been standing. Two more dark and looming figures appeared around the corner of the house where Garrin had been.

  With two simple words, “Artisan’s Corner,” Garrin’s plan was made clear. They were splitting up. Mey nodded once and took off without hesitation. She could hear Garrin’s heavy footfalls heading the opposite direction. She looked back after a few seconds and saw two of the men following her. She quickly assessed the situation. The others must have taken after Garrin. She crossed behind a row of houses, trying to stay in the shadows as she ran. She could still hear her pursuers, but mostly she could feel them, closing the gap she had put between them with her initial sprint.

  She began to silently curse herself for not seeing this coming. The item the mage wanted was valuable. Any magical artifact would fetch a pretty copper as well as unwanted attention. Why had they not taken more care to ensure they were not followed? The tug of power within the mask wasn’t very strong, but it was there and Mey knew she couldn’t always trust her inherited instincts. They had been wrong before. The seeds of wonder at what it was used for and why the mage wanted it sprouted.

  She came out of the last row of homes into the market. There was more open space here; but many more shadows to play with. The larger, permanent carts were covered for the night. Surrounded on each side by buildings that housed the loftier shops, the market formed a square within the middle of the open courtyard. She found the cart where the baker sold his cakes and breads. Slipping behind the cart; she caught her breath while she scanned the open area. In about three heartbeats, two men emerged from the same alley she had just left. She quieted her breathing and tried to get a better view of them. No one she recognized, that was for sure. They quickly looked around and then headed for the street that would lead them straight to the docks. Mey waited at least ten minutes before she moved. She slowly uncurled from the crouch in which she had been frozen, slid around the cart and out into the opening. Staying low, she sprinted across the clearing to the street the men had taken. She listened for several seconds before following.

  Briefly, she wondered about Garrin and how he had fared with the men who were after him, but the thought came and went quickly. She had no need to worry for him; Garrin could take care of himself better than most. She made her way to the dockside where a number of taverns lined the walk. Heading right for the loudest, rowdiest, and roughest looking building along the row, she kept alert to her surroundings. She entered the Artisan’s Corner inconspicuously and made her way to a back table where she could fit herself into the shadows. She let her eyes scan the room. Garrin was not there yet. She settled back into the chair to wait.

  **********

  Mey looked up from her drink for the fifth time as the door of the tavern opened again. She smiled when she saw Garrin enter. He gazed around the room quickly, spotted her and headed her direction.

  “You still have it?” she asked, anxious to know if the object they had obtained for their benefactor was safe.

  Garrin pulled the small, flat box from inside his tunic. His grin was as big as hers and took up his whole face, causing small wrinkle lines to show around his brown eyes. “I think I lost those grubby dock-crawlers that were following us. When we leave here, you should carry the mask just in case; throw them off if they decide to come after us again.”

  Mey opened the box and examined the mask as Garrin tried to gain the serving girl’s attention to order himself a drink. “I wonder what’s so special about this, besides it being worth more than a handful of coin. That mage sure was bent on having it.” Laying the mask gently inside the crude case once again, the two thieves leaned over it blocking out prying eyes.

  “Who knows? Mages have strange ways. They find value in other people’s every-day junk,” Garrin said offhandedly. He had no curiosity about the things he was commissioned to retrieve. He just wanted to get paid. Mey, on the other hand, felt a power within the piece and wanted to know more: what it did, why it was created, and to whom had it belonged along the way. She got that curious nature from her father.

  Her father, being an elf, had an unending curiosity – especially about magical power. Elves had an innate ability to detect and discern properties of magic. Of course, her own ability wasn’t as strong; she was only a half-breed, her elven blood diluted by her mother’s human contribution.

  She quickly put the mask away as the bar maid approached. As always, Garrin asked for mead and settled back in his chair to pass the time before they continued on to meet their employer. He threw one leg up on the chair next to him to deter uninvited guests and began peeling off his black leather gloves.

  “Sounds like Big Jo’s looking for a wager over there.” Garrin nodded toward the big man near the front of the establishment. Jo’s booming voice carried over the entire room, trying to find a taker for a game of throwing daggers. A light smile touched Mey’s lips.

  “That would just be cruel, now, Garrin. I’ve set the record straight so many times with him. I can, and have, beat him while blindfolded. It would be plain mean to take his money like that.”

  Garrin laughed out loud, filling the room with his light-hearted spirit. Many eyes turned toward them, including Big Jo's. The hulking tower of a man glowered at them but quickly turned away. Obviously, he did not care to be humiliated again.

  Mey and Garrin chuckled together, each remembering times she had shamelessly outdone herself to beat the bigger man in throwing daggers. Garrin suddenly sprang from his chair and called out, “Jo, we’ll take your wager!” He winked at Mey and whispered so only she could hear. “It’s just the right amount of time we need to shake our friends. A quick game and then we leave,” he assured her before she could protest.

  Shrugging, Mey lifted herself from her chair and stood next to Garrin, the smile never leaving her face. Her hands moved in what looked like a nervous attempt to loosen her joints. In actuality, she was using the hand-language Garrin had taught her years ago to tell him just what she thought of Big Jo and his dagger-throwing contest. Garrin laughed out loud again when he caught what she was saying.

  “This had better be worth my time, Jo,” Mey said as she strolled over to where the big man stood. “Have you been practicing?”

  “You just throw daggers, lady.” Jo was a lumbering hulk of a man with a stench to match. “We hit the target, there,” he said, pointing to the circles marked on the far wall. “Best, three out of four.”

  “Sure. What’s the wager?”

  “Ten gold coins.”

  With a glance back at Garrin, Mey sighed and pulled a dagger from the belt at her waist. She knew that ten gold was probably all the money Jo had. She felt the heft of the dagger in her hand. The balance was a bit off, but she knew this dagger well. Shifting her weight to compensate, she flung the dagger forward with only the slightest flick of her wrist. The movement was so fast that had you not been watching, you would have missed it all together. The dagger hit dead center of the inner ring of circles. Mey bowed at the waist as she backed away from the line marked on the floor.

  Jo grimaced slightly as he moved in to place. He drew a deep breath and let the dagger in his hand fly. His own throw landed one ring outside of center. Mey lifted an eyebrow as she shot another glance in Garrin’s direction. Her fingers made a series of movements. Garrin had long ago come up with this way to communicate between only the two of them.

  So he has been practicing! her fingers flashed. Garrin chuckled.

  The next
series of throws went to Mey’s favor as well. No one had ever beaten her before besides Garrin and she had surpassed him years ago. As the third round came about, Garrin stepped forward.

  “Why don’t we up the stakes, Jo? You’ve come very close on the first two throws. I think the last set should be two daggers thrown.” Garrin loved to show off Mey’s talent to its fullest; he was like a proud father. Mey rolled her eyes but didn’t object. That would be taking the wind out of Garrin’s sails and she couldn’t do that.

  Jo’s eyes flicked between the two of them, suspicion evident on his small features. Sweat broke out in tiny beads across his forehead and trickled down his temple. He nodded somewhat reluctantly.

  Mey stepped up to the line once more. She focused on the two separate circles drawn on the wall ahead of her. She let out a long, slow breath as she judged the distance between the two and then her own distance away from them. She slipped two daggers from her bandolier and held them in her right hand. Moving the hilts carefully between her fingers, she calculated for the slight difference of heaviness in the two weapons. As quick as a snake, she snapped her wrist and the two daggers flew from her light grasp and thudded heavily into the wall ahead. All eyes turned to the wall, where the two daggers stuck, one in each circle, dead center.

  Jo’s face had turned red as a beet, hands clenched by his side. Mey just shook her head; it ended much the same each time. Garrin sauntered over to Jo and held his hand out in expectation. Jo reached into his pouch and handed over a handful of coins. Mey was surprised that he actually had the coin and briefly wondered where it had come from. She shrugged it off; it wasn’t her business what people did to survive around here.

  She moved closer to Garrin. “I think we need to make our exit. The mage awaits us and we’re losing moonlight.”

  “Sure, kid.” He flipped a coin toward Big Jo. “I just can’t leave you empty handed,” he said with a grin.