[Shattered Darkness]-A Fable II Fic-[Chapter Three]
He couldn’t fathom it. Reaver had expected at least some kind of fight for the deed of the house, and yet, for all intents and purposes, it was already his. He had barely seen Sparrow since the incident with the snow globe, and even then it was briefly, the man never being anything less than polite. A quick sojourn down into Bloodstone had revealed some interesting facts, the foremost being that while every whore, male and female alike, all practically swooned at the mere mention of Sparrow’s name, not one had experienced how he performed in the bedroom. A second, slightly more irritating discovery came in finding that Sparrow owned every building and shop in the town, and charged far lower rents than Reaver ever had. No one was afraid of him, that much was clear, but they respected him, and Reaver found that it grated somewhat to hear the man spoken of so warmly. As of yet, however, his mind wasn’t on reclaiming the town. He had other, more troubling thoughts to deal with.
“Do you want to know what I think, mutt?” Reaver said that evening, sitting by the fire with a glass of strong liquor in one lax hand. By his feet, Sparrow’s dog, who had taken to following him around, lifted his head and let out a questioning whine.
“I think he does it on purpose. No one can be that good without trying, it isn’t human nature.”
Rip sneezed, and Reaver, after taking a slow sip of his drink, taking his time to taste it before he swallowed, nodded thoughtfully.
“I knew you’d say that.” Frowning faintly he tapped his lower lip, then shrugged, unconsciously moving one hand to lightly stroke Rip’s head as the animal sat up. The blasted creature was determined, he had to give him that – it had taken several attempts to get rid of him before Reaver had finally given in and simply allowed the companionship. Sometimes he had the inkling that Rip was far more intelligent than any normal dog, but he wasn’t interested enough to look into it further.
“Well,” he muttered after a moment, placing the glass to one side and rising. “I do believe I’ll retire. Go and find your master.”
With a faint woofing sound, Rip got up and padded out, Reaver following behind somewhat more slowly. He passed Sparrow on the way to his room, which the man had never used, and glanced up in time to see the faint nod that the Hero gave as he simply walked by him. The pirate paused, looked over his shoulder at the man’s back, then dismissed it and went on his way, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click a few moments later.
It rained that night, the sky crackling and flashing, sending hollow booms louder than any gunfire over the port town and marshes beyond. Even the whores and smugglers had taken to their beds, though the pirates at the docks were still active, sheltering under makeshift tents and stalls as they made their deals. Even from the manor Sparrow could see the faint glow as they smoked pipes or cigars, though the scent didn’t reach the house through the heavy downpour.
A movement caught his eye, the shape of a person making their way up through the narrow streets and stairways. He would recognise that gait anywhere, though he frowned and squinted, trying to be sure before his spirit was lifted without cause. They were coming straight to the house, and as they crossed the courtyard, he left the window and made his way to the stairs, met at the bottom by Max, standing by the now open front door.
“There is a… a lady here to see you, sir,” Max said, nodding slightly.
“Thank you, Max,” Sparrow replied, unable to keep the cheerful tone out of his voice. “Would you mind fetching something so she can dry off? I imagine she’ll be a little damp.”
“A little damp?! Soaked through is more like it. By the Light, Sparrow, let me in out of this rain.”
Sparrow laughed, ushering the woman inside and closing the door. A few moments later Max returned, disappearing just as quickly as Hammer made an attempt at stopping the cold rainwater from dripping down the back of her neck. Waiting patiently until she was finished, Sparrow found himself pulled into a firm hug that all but knocked the air from his lungs.
“Sparrow, you old bastard, it’s good to see you!” Hammer exclaimed, oblivious to the gasp as she released him. After spending a moment coughing, Sparrow grinned and placed one hand on her shoulder to lead her into the main room, the warmth like a blanket as he opened the door, shutting it to keep out the chill.
“What are you doing in Bloodstone?” he asked as she glanced around, evidently impressed by her surroundings. He had always thought it a little ostentatious, but it had been Reaver’s home after all.
“I was down visiting a few people from the old days,” she replied, returning her attention to him with a merry smile. “I heard you were living up here, and with that big castle up in Bowerstone as well? Why would you choose to live in a dump like this?”
Sparrow laughed, dropping into a chair beside the fire and motioning for her to do the same. “I’ve been trying to clear the place up. It isn’t really working.”
“You’re not kidding!” Hammer let her weapon drop with a heavy thud, and Sparrow winced as several of the smaller furnishings bounced. Behind her the door was opened and Rip bounded in, as happy to see the woman as Sparrow had been. After an enthusiastic greeting and shutting the door once again she settled into the chair across from Sparrow and snorted. “I must have been cat-called at more than a dozen times when I got off the ship.”
“Hush,” Sparrow told her with a soft laugh, wondering just what the pirates would have made of her if she had turned and challenged them. One thing that he had learned while living here was that pirates were essentially cowards, not that he had ever doubted it. “I think Reaver’s sleeping.”
“Reaver?” The woman started, looking to the door then back to Sparrow, frowning. “What’s Reaver doing here?”
“He’s been here about a week,” Sparrow told her. “Sleeping mostly, he’s been no trouble.” Perhaps a little too much of a literal answer, as Hammer gave him a ‘look’ that he couldn’t help but chuckle at. “I’d not want to bruise his pride by telling you just how it came about.”
“You’re too kind, Sparrow, honestly. What does a man like him need his pride protecting for?” Clearly there was no love lost between the Pilgrim and the Thief and Sparrow simply smiled, watching the woman as she dropped to one knee to fuss over Rip. Glancing at the dying flames of the fire in the hearth he shook his head and sighed quietly.
“It’s getting late,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. A distracted smile flickered briefly over his face before he met Hammer’s gaze, registering the concern he saw there and striding forwards to clap a hand down on her shoulder. “Come, I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms. The one furthest away from Reaver,” he added as an afterthought, enjoying the laugh that he received in response.
“Cheers,” Hammer said, following him with Rip close behind. “So thoughtful of you.”
After Hammer was settled and they had bid each other goodnight, Sparrow found his feet leading him not to bed but to his study. Sat behind his desk he examined the snow globe that he had bought from Murgo. It was a priceless thing for only five gold, and he was in no doubt that Theresa had supplied the trader with all of them, the snow globe, the skull, and even the music box. In a way he was angry with her. After all, had she not given that cursed box to Murgo, he would have never lost his sister. He frowned. There was little use in thinking of that. After all, he would not be here had it not been for her. Hammer, Garth, Reaver – yes, even Reaver – would all be strangers to him. Would he sacrifice it all to have Rose back? Well, he had already been given that choice, and after seeing the results of his actions he was sure it had been the right one. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder-
“Sir?”
The voice shook him out of his thoughts and he looked up to find Max stood at the door. It was then that he noticed the rain had stopped, and glanced at the clock to find that he had spent hours immersed in his thoughts.
“There is a gentleman here to see you, sir. I suggested that he wait until morning but he was… most insistent.”
“That’s fine, Max, I’ll see him now.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Max had gone before he reached the door. Sparrow had often wondered how someone so elderly could move so quickly. With a soft laugh he made his way once again to the main entrance, halting some distance from the door as he saw that unmistakeable blue glow from under the man’s hood. This was one person that he had not expected to meet again despite his promise that one day they would. He hurried forwards, grasping the dark-skinned hand that was offered to him with a firm grip, silent as he drew the man inside, clasping his other hand over both of theirs as he met those strangely blue eyes.
“Well, this is a surprise…”
“An unpleasant one at best.”
Both looked up to find Reaver above them, leaning on the banister and eyeing Garth with what could only be described as distaste. One hand rested lightly on the smooth wood while the other lay on his gun, though he hadn’t yet drawn it. Sparrow heard Garth give a short laugh and frowned as he turned his attention back, watching the man as he pushed the rain-soaked hood of his cloak back and unclasped it, slipping the sodden garment from his shoulders and dropping it beside the door.
“So, how shall we do this?” Reaver said, moving across the landing to make his way down the stairs, his eyes never leaving the Will user. “Swords? Hand to hand? I prefer gunfire myself, how does fifty paces sound? I’d like to get it over with quickly, I don’t think I’ll be staying here for much longer. Business to attend to, you know.”
“Or you could simply be silent and refrain from assuming that I am here to attack you,” Garth replied mildly, taking his time to set down his satchel and place his monocle in its customary position. Reaver watched him sourly, itching to pull out his gun and shoot but well aware that he was in the presence of two powerful Will users. It was too much of a coincidence to have him show up like this, barely a week after his own return from Samarkand and if he’d heard correctly, that graceless brute ‘Hammer’ had arrived only hours earlier. For Reaver, it felt like a set-up, much like their initial meeting, and from the expression on Sparrow’s face he’d noticed much the same thing.
“Is there something troubling you?” the Mage queried.
“Perhaps,” Sparrow murmured, prompting Reaver to make a sound of contempt and wave one hand dismissively.
“If you’re not here to settle the score I’ll be on my way,” he stated, heading back to the stairs and pausing briefly as Garth responded calmly.
“Not yet, pirate, but you and I have some issues to discuss.” There was the faint undertone of a threat in that sentence, and Sparrow quirked one eyebrow as Reaver chuckled, and continued on his way.
“’Issues’?” Sparrow asked quietly as he picked up the man’s cloak and bag and moved through to the main room, kneeling before the fire to prod it back to life. Garth remained standing, his hands clasped over the back of one of the chairs, and inclined his head slightly.
“Reaver has been making quite a nuisance of himself in Samarkand,” he said. “And as much as I have tried to distance myself from his antics, our names were inevitably linked. It has been rather… damaging.”
It shouldn’t have been amusing but Sparrow felt the corner of his mouth twitch. It seemed that all four of them were linked on a far deeper level than they had first imagined, whether they wished it or not. That troubled look must have shadowed his face again for Garth finally took a seat and steepled his fingers thoughtfully, watching Sparrow for a moment before breaking the silence.
“I did not expect to find you in residence here, Hero,” he murmured.
“No,” Sparrow replied. “Hammer said much the same thing.”
His surprise was well masked but Sparrow saw it, and he knew that the mage’s quick mind had already reached the conclusion that he had reached only minutes earlier.
“Why do I feel that Theresa is once more meddling in our lives?”
“I thought much the same thing,” said Sparrow, faint annoyance in his tone. “But to what purpose?”
They sat in silence for a short time, then Garth cleared his throat and reached over the arm of the chair to slip one hand into his satchel. He drew out a handful of worn scrolls and a small leather-bound book, the cover cracked and damaged but with the words ‘Hero’s Guild’ still legible on the cover. Sparrow leaned forwards in interest, and the mage offered the book to him. The pages were as crisp as if they were new when he opened it, and gave off a distinct pulse of old magic, like a heartbeat within the book itself. He glanced through it quickly, finding page after page of neat, handwritten entries, detailed illustrations and in some cases what appeared to be instructions.
“What is this?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Garth who was watching him with what looked like amusement.
“I came across it on my travels, along with these papers. I have no idea what it was doing in Samarkand in the first place – I can only assume that one of the last Heroes to escape Albion was carrying it with him.”
Sparrow leafed through the pages once more, this time more slowly. In concise words the entire history of Heroes was laid out, and the history of the Guild. It ended with the Guild’s downfall some centuries previously, though even went so far as to give the location of it, beneath Bowerstone Lake, and details of how a person would gain access to the ruins. It ended, conveniently, on the final page, with no evidence of pages being added or removed, but it was the instructions on how to enter the Guild that caught Sparrow’s attention. He examined the drawing closely, recognising it immediately as the Chamber of Fate, the place where his own powers had been awakened all those years ago. There had been other ways out, he remembered, but all blocked by a precipice too wide for him to safely cross.
“But of course…” Sparrow murmured, snapping the book closed and getting to his feet. “It makes perfect sense!”
“Please, enlighten me,” the Mage said, blinking in surprise as the papers he held were snatched from him and taken to the desk some feet away, carefully spread out and pored over. They were maps, plans, everything that would be needed.
“We could do this…”
Garth stood and moved to Sparrow’s side, frowning as he gazed down at the parchment, trying to make sense out what Sparrow was seeing.
“Do what, boy?”
“We’re going to rebuild the Heroes’ Guild.”
Tags: fable 2, Fanfiction, reaver, sparrow