Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Bazaar Storms

Warmth glowed in the dark dreamscape. A gentle pull back to reality tugged at Symon as he lingered in comfortable dreams. The darkness began to recede and his eyes began to flutter. The lands of dreams fell away as eyelids slowly slid back to the new day.

Symon blinked as he laid in bed. A thick blanket was wrapped around his body. He turned his gaze to the window, morning light filtering in through sheer curtains. Lips parted and a comforting exhale touched the air.

It has been so long since I’ve enjoyed a real bed, I almost forgot what it was like. I haven’t I slept that well in ages.  

The warm glow continued its dreamy song. Symon wanted to be like this forever, or at least, another hour or so. When the faint smell of cooking food touched his sensitive nose, a small growl whispered from his belly.

“I know, old friend,” Symon said to his stomach and a small chuckle followed.

Taking hold of the edge, he whipped the blanket off of his. Legs slid over the edge of the bed and he stood up in his small clothes. Energy began to fill his limbs, thanks to a deep and restful sleep. He moved to a chest at the foot of his bed and opened it. Inside were stacks of black shirts, leggings, and small clothes.

“The guild really likes the color black,” Symon muttered to himself before taking hold of a shirt and leggings and pulling them out.

In mere moments, he was dressed and stepping out of his room. Memories of last night played in the back of his mind, Serafina showing him his room after they left the treasure hold and had a few more drinks. Serafina did most of the talking, speaking about things in such a disjointed manner, Symon could only conclude she had a little too much to drink. When she showed him his rook, she was quick to point everything out he may need, before wandering away down the hall to her room. Symon was so happy to have a real room again, he quickly explored it before changing out of his clothes and quickly going to sleep.

Before he drifted into dreamland, he remembered the book his parents gave him. It was still in his den, and at some point, he would have to retrieve it.

Taking the stairs down, the smell of cooking meat and eggs was overpowering. His mouth watered as he rushed through the main room and into the kitchen. The sights and sounds of sizzling meat and eggs took over, and he barely noticed the woman in black cooking all of it.

“Morning!” Serafina greeted brightly. “Slept well?”

Symon nodded as he stared at the food.

“Bartered a few items for this morning feast. We’re going to need it, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

“Indeed, I have,” Symon grinned from ear to ear.

“Good,” Serafina said as she picked up an iron pan and slid cooked eggs onto a plate with strips of bacon.

She picked it up and handed it to Symon. He took hold, his mouth ready to droll his intentions.

“Eat up. Afterwards, were going to the bazaar for a little shopping, and your training,” Serafina said and blinked.

Symon was already at the kitchen table and shoving food into his mouth while nodding to what she said.

The woman in black gave an approving nod and a smile as the young man wolfed his food down like a wild animal.

***

The crisp morning air flowed into Symon’s lungs. Several clouds drifted across the pale blue sky as sunlight painted the world in yellow light.

Symon glanced around as he walked side by side with Serafina. The pair stepped along a disheveled cobblestone street, the sound of people in the distance. The stone and wood buildings they passed were a little rundown, and some were vacant with dilapidated roofs and missing windows. It spoke to Symon, seeing that the people of New Town had very little when compared to Old Town.

The young man glanced to his fellow guildmate. Serafina walked with her head held high and a backpack on her back. She moved with a degree of confidence that was hard to miss. The one thing Symon noticed that he wasn’t sure anyone else was seeing was her eyes moving and observing everything. It was slight, barely noticeable, but it was there, taking it all in.

The pair walked along the west side of New Town, taking a curved street northward.

“You’ll start your training of pickpocketing when we reach the bazaar,” Serafina said with a low tone.

Symon continued to look around as he too spoke in a low tone. “I thought we didn’t take from those with less? Shouldn’t we be in Old Town to train?”

“We could, but it would be much harder for you. Never mind the fact that I cannot step foot within Old Town, there are still opportunities here in New Town. The New Town Bazaar is famous for finding hidden treasures. Some wealthy residents of Old Town do enjoy coming out to the bazaar so they can find a trinket, or item at a reduced price. They make the perfect marks in a place with little to no bucklers. It is well known, anyone who shops or deals in New Town risks their coins. For them, it is a thrill and a window to their greed. Why pay more in Old Town, when you get an item similar to it, for a lot less coin in New Town.”

Symon looked over to her. “With so many people in one place, how am I going to learn how to pickpocket?”

“How did you get the coins from Old Town?” Serafina asked.

The young man lifted his hand and scratched at the back of his head. “It was a moment of luck and opportunity. I doubt it will happen again.”

The woman with the white lock amid her thick river of black hair, turned her head and gave Symon an impish smile.

“Opportunities are abundant, and at all times. You just have to know where to look and feel out a situation. Distraction is key. I won’t tell you the plan, but follow my lead when things begin to happen. Pickpocketing is a skill, but one you can learn quickly, if your focused and motivated.”

“And if we are caught?” Symon asked as he mirrored Serafina’s smile.

The woman in black let out a soft cackle. “Rule one to success, never get caught. But to set your mind at ease, should things go sideways, meet back at the house. We’ll sort it out there.”

Symon nodded as he digested her words, but a sliver of concern whispered across his soul.

The pair followed the curving road to the northside of New Town. When they passed several large, weathered buildings, the sounds of people grew into a thick cloud. Colored tents stood in a large area, not far from the north Mage Road. It was vast, with plumes of smoke rising up from gaps where simple tents stood. Odd banners rippled in the wind. The shadows of taller, nearby stone buildings cast long shadows on some of the bazaar tents. Fiddles and mandolins played as the entire bazaar was filled with people.

Symon stared as they walked closer. He had seen the bazaar, many times, but didn’t chance going in. The place was too crowded, with very little places to hide, unlike the Old Town Market. The area was widespread, and even in his fox form, he wouldn’t get far without someone catching him, or worse. With no coin, there was no other reason o enter the bazaar. But with a few coins in his pocket, he felt better simply coming here. The weight of what he had to do hovered over him, but deep down, he knew he chose this life and he couldn’t turn back now.

The pair reached the edge of the bazaar and stepped into the crowd. Bodies clustered together as merchants shouted out prices to bidders. Symon’s nose wrinkled to the scents of unwashed clothes, mingling with scents of flowers and spices. It was an odd mix, one he had to quickly push away since he didn’t want to be distracted.

“You can tell who is from Old Town, not by their clothes, but how they carry themselves,” Serafina whispered in Symon’s ear. “They tend to walk taller, and are a little more alert. They may dress the part of a New Towner, to disguise themselves, but they cannot hide how they interact with others here in the bazaar.”

 Symon barely nodded as he glanced around. His senses were assaulted with different shouts, people talking, and bursts of small laughter.

“Hey! You lad!” came a shout from Symon’s right.

The young man stopped in his tracks and turned his head to a man standing on a wooden box.

“Yeah, you. Want to make some coin? Join the Beast Hunters and you will be rich after just a few jobs,” the man said with a small, crazed look in his eyes.

Symon stared at the man. He was thin, but wiry. He had short, salt and pepper colored hair. His arms and neck were exposed, displaying various arcane tattoos. Many of them were of wicked monster heads. Behind him was a simple pole with a sign that read “Beast Hunters HQ.” Along the pole were other men and women from various races. Two orcs, a forest elf, three goblins, and several Norden men and woman stood with hollow eyes and haggard expressions. Symon could not deny seeing the look of defeat in their eyes as they stood, surrounding the pole. Leaning against the pole and nearby crates were bundles of thick ropes, rusty metal hooks large enough to hook sea monsters, and spears with what looked like dried blood on the some of the shafts. They all appeared like a motely crew of defeated souls and it sent a shiver up and down Symon’s spine.

“How can he spend his riches if he’s dead?” Serafina shouted back at the man.

The thin, wiry man on the crate turned his attention to the woman in black. “Let him make up his own mind. He will get three square meals, a dry tent, and adventure to tell his future children,” the man said with a sly grin.

Serafina shook her head. “You say that every time I see you here! And judging from the poor souls standing behind you, you suckered a new lot to die in the search for glory. It doesn’t matter how many umbra beasts you slay, you will never get rich. You’re throwing your lives away on the chance the mages will pay you handsomely, if you survive.”

The man gave a creepy chuckle. “The mages pay silver knights and gold queens for the best parts of an umbra beast. One job will be enough to live comfortably for several years.”

Serafina glared at the man, “If you survive. Even if you’re people are not too scarred, or care not for any missing limbs, they will come back for another job and another, until they either die in the attempt, or take their own life from the nightmares of fighting those monsters!

“No, do not attempt to convince my friend here! You have your chosen path and we have ours.”

The hunter turned his crazed gaze to Symon again. “We leave tonight, if you’re interested. We should return in ten to fifteen days, depending on our quarry. Once we are victorious, you will see what we are the true heroes of Norr. Kal’s the name. Remember it when we come back as victorious hunters!”

“Come along,” Serafina sneered. “You won’t convince this lot to not throw away their lives for a dream of silver and gold.”

Serafina continued to make her way through the crowd and Symon followed.

Knowledge spread out across Symon’s thoughts. For hundreds of years, there has always been bands of hunters who hunted the umbra beasts in the glacial ice to the north. Their stories trickled down to the Summer Lands, spinning tales of heroic people chipping away thick ice and stabbing at the monsters trapped inside. It was always told that the hunters would only break away enough ice to slay a beast within, but there were many tales of the beasts within the ice, breaking free and killing all they came in contact with.

A cold chill seeped down Symon’s spine. The stories of umbra beasts and undead that filled the glacier was terrifying on its own, but the tales from survivors from such failed hunts were the stuff of nightmares. The beasts would consume all they could, and what they didn’t consume, they infected with their alien magic, changing people into hideous monsters. Those monsters would make their way south, sometimes passing Gray Gate, other times not. They would sneak or attack towns without very good defenses. Whole towns and farms were slaughtered by one, or many of the umbra creatures. Local lords, barons, and knights, would have to band together to kill the beasts, but by then, it was often too late to save some from the monstrous onslaughts.

“Watch the crowd and pick your marks,” Serafina said, breaking Symon’s inner thoughts.

The young man nodded before looking around. The bazaar was packed with many groups of people. It was hard to tell, through the shouting and laughing, who belonged to what part of the city. Most of the people looked like they belonged in New Town. Their clothes were a little dirtier. Their hair was sometimes unkempt. Some people laughed, teeth missing from their mouths.

Symon focused a little more, and reality began to slow down. He glanced from person to person, trying to discover a mark. His fingers flexed as eyes slid from side to side.

If I was in my fox form, I could sniff them out. People from Old Town smelled different, cleaner, than those form New Town. My sense of smell is sharper than a normal person, but not as keen as my fox self. I will have to try a little harder to train my senses to find what I’m looking for.

A fleeting feeling touched Symon and he looked over to a man in a raggedy robe, standing by a booth with many hanging trinkets. He was speaking to the seller, but he had an intensity in his eyes. His chin was up, like he was talking down to the seller. The man selling the trinkets, was older, and a little feeble looking. He kept shaking his head, but the man in the bad robe continued to try and talk him down for one of the hanging amulets.

Symon’s hand reached over and grazed the back of his hand against Serafina’s hand. “I think I found one,” he whispered.

Serafina instantly glanced to the side and barely gave a nod. “Good instincts. I will create a distraction. Remember, simply slip your hand into his pocket. If there is nothing inside, slip it into his breast pocket. It may seem impossible, but if the mark is distracted, and you’re quick, he won’t even know you’re there.”

Serafina took a step forward and halted as someone shouted at her from the crowd.

“Who let the crow out of her cage,” said a Norden man as he walked toward her.

Serafina and Symon looked to the man. Behind him was a female orc, and another Norden male. They stepped with confidence. Their clothes appeared normal, but each of them had a band tied around their jacket arms, displaying the colors of yellow and gray.

Storm guild members.

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Serafina eyed the young man and his cohorts as they approached and grinned. “Crows are smaller than ravens. If you were just a little smarter, you would know that, Jak.”

“Crows, ravens, all are powerless birds when compared to storms!” Jak laughed and his cohorts laughed with him.

Symon studied the three Storm guild members. Jak was a few inches shorter than the Norden and the orc. The Norden was taller and had a mean look in his eyes. The orc laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, more for intimation than actual humor. Even with a glance, Symon caught the hints of dagger pommels from sheaths along their waists. Their jackets were a dull gray.

If they are part of a guild, why display their allegiance for everyone to see?

“Spoken like a true dullard,” Serafina cackled. “Your leader is a true storm. You on the other hand, are nothing more than a light shower on a cloudy day.”

Jak’s good humor dimmed as he glared at the woman in black. “If you weren’t untouchable, I would slap that smile off your face.”

Serafina took a step closer to Jak. He stood his ground, but a nervous edge touched his eyes.

“Here I am. Slap me and show how much of a man you really are, instead of the young, slow, and stupid craven that is wearing your clothes,” Serafina said without a hint of fear or hesitation.

Jak looked away. “I respect the code and your special circumstance, but one day, you will be forgotten and I will be there, with a dagger at your throat,” Jak said before turning his gaze to Symon. “What do we have here? A crow chick?”

Symon kept his cool as he looked at the storm guild members.

“What? He doesn’t speak? That is a nice change of pace, considering the trash that comes out of your mouth,” Jak said, insinuating Serafina.

Symons’ eyes hardened.

“Pay him no mind. He’s just a helper of crones,” Serafina said before turning her head to Symon and giving him a look. “Go on! I don’t need your help.”

Symon caught what she was saying without words. He glanced back to the three storms before simply turning and walking away.

Serafina looked back at the three storms and put her hands on her hips. “Where’s your minder? Surely, children should not be walking alone in the bazaar?”

Jak’s eyes blazed hot before he spit to the side. “Robert may have a soft spot for you, but the rest of the guild does not. Your time is coming to an end.”

Serafina’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe, but it won’t be you standing over my cooling corpse. No, I’ll outlive you, because I’ve seen it in my visions.”

The woman in black raised her hands to the sky and talked so loud, heads turned to see what the commotion was about.

“Here me, star goddess! Protect this foolish soul and his brothers and sisters from a fate worst than death. For I have seen it!” Serafina shouted before lowering her gaze to meet Jak’s wide eyes. “I have seen a horde of umbra beasts, feasting on what is left of this poor sop in front of me. Star goddess, break his curse so he may live a full life of being an idiot!”

Jak ground his teeth as he stared daggers at the woman in black.

Groups of people broke away from booths and formed a rough circle around the woman in black and the three storms. All watched with amused gazes as Serafina continued to speak to the sky, asking the star goddess to lift the burden of stupidity from the young man.

Symon was already moving away, his gaze focused on the booth with the odd man and the old simple merchant. The old man kept shaking his head as he glanced to the side to get a glimpse of what was happening. The man in the bad robe growled, his hand slipping into a breast pocket.

No need to search. He keeps his coins in his inner left breast pocket.

Symon moved closer as the man began arguing with the simple merchant.

“Just give it to me for two rooks and be done with it!” the man said sharply.

“It cost me two rooks, that is why the price if four,” the old man shot back while trying to crane his head to see.

The odd man slammed down two copper rooks onto the table. Before the old merchant could react, the odd man swung his hand up and snatched the amulet from the hanging hook. The old man protested, but the odd man turned and didn’t look back. He walked like he just won some battle between good and evil. When a shoulder slammed into his chest, the man’s arms pinwheeled as he crashed onto the muddy ground.

“My apologizes,” Symon said as he bent down and grabbed the man’s arm.

“Let go of me!” the man growled before he glanced around him, looking for the amulet.

The man turned onto all fours, checking the mud for the amulet.

“I can’t let you stay like this,” Symon muttered as he hooked his hands under the man’s armpits.

“I said unhand me!” the man said as he was jerked up to his feet.

Symon kept a blank expression as his hand touched the mound in the man’s robe. When the man was standing, and looking for the amulet, Symon roughly helped clean off mud from the robe and helped fixed it.

“I said, unhand me!” the man shouted as he tried to pull away from Symon. “I dropped something, thanks to your buffoonery!”

Time stood still as Symon glanced down to the robe as the man continued to look away with wide eyes. The moment glowed like a lantern in the middle of the night. Amid helping cleaning off the mud and dirt, he glimpsed the coin purse within the breast pocket.

A cunning inspiration struck as Symon pointed to a heap of mud, “I think I saw it fall into that.”

The man looked away as Symon’s hand slipped into his breast pocket, curled his fingers along the purse, and slipped out.

“I don’t see it!” The man growled as he looked about frantically.

“I must have been mistaken,” Symon said and simply walked off.

Symon’s heart thudded in his chest as he walked back to the booth with the old merchant. He placed the mud-covered amulet on the table and stepped away. Serafina’s shouts filled the air as the young man in black walked away. He was nearly to the edge of the bazaar, when two men appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path.

Symon glanced down, seeing their armbands colored with yellow and gray.

“What do we have here? A young thief?” a man with a few scars across his face and a skull thick enough to give the impression he was half orc.

“I think we do have a young thief,” another said, his skull thicker and eyes made of despicable meanness.

“I’m simply passing through,” Symon stated as he didn’t back down.

‘The bazaar falls under Storm Guild territory,” the scarred storm guild member said darkly. “No one steals from here but us, unless you’re looking to die.”

Symon glanced at each man in turn. They looked like they could be twins.

“Hand it over, and maybe we can forget this whole thing ever happened,” the first one said, feigning being reasonable.

Symon glanced down, to see a dagger in his hand and barely hidden by his leg.

He looked up at the two brutes and gave them a sly smirk. “What’s to stop you from stabbing me after I hand it over?”

The two brutes chuckled.

“Our word of honor,” the two men said at the same time.

Symon kept his smirk. “What about rule 3 of the code?”

The two storms stopped leering and glanced at each other. They turned their hard eyes to Symon.

“What do you know about the code? Only guild members know the code and you are no guild member I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s lying. Take the purse and stab him already,” the other said darkly.

“What about your word of honor?” Symon asked as he flexed his hands, the coin purse in his pocket.

The brutes let out dark chuckles.

“We lied,” they both said and daggers flashed.

Symon’s hands were already moving. His palms struck wrists hard. Grunts rose up as the one of the brutes dropped his dagger and the other held onto his. His dagger missed Symon’s eye as the young man in black spun and lifted his boot. Symon threw every drop of force into his foot as he slammed it down on the armed brute’s knee. A loud crack filled the air between them and the brute cried out as he toppled to the side and landed in the mud.

The other brute took a swing, Symon ducking down and driving an uppercut punch to the man’s gut. His fist bounced off and pain blazed across his knuckles, like he hit solid stone. The brute chuckled as Symon pulled back his arm and slammed his palm under the man’s chin. The chuckling stopped as the large man was knocked back and stumbled. Symon capitalized on the moment by jumping at the stumbling storm and slamming his foot against the man’s chest. All the air left his lungs as he was thrown back and crashed onto the muddy floor.

Symon lifted his hands up, ready to deal out more damage, when he saw that both men were groaning and not getting back up. He then relaxed and pulled his shirt to make sure it was back in place.

“We should forget this ever happened,” Symon said as he smoothed his hair back into place and walked away.     

The two brutes continued to groan as they struggled to get back up.

Symon didn’t look back as he walked away, his heart still pounding in his chest.

From the dissipating crowd in the bazaar, Serafina glimpsed the last instant of Symon’s tussle and she smiled to herself with proud eyes.

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