....I'll finish this one I swear!...

The Thieves of West Haven

Prologue

....Under Construction....There was a long war being waged in the world of Westwind when a group of thieves known only as the Seven embarked on a quest to find an ancient and powerful relic. They must hurry! It was a race for power against the Dark Lord of the Infertile Valley.

Chapter One

Departure

It was early morning in southern West Haven. News had reached town of a find in the mines south of the forest. Hardly a soul at the thieve’s guild had slept a wink and there were already seven horses packed and saddled outside the gate.

Inside, the hearth was lit and seven darkly cloaked figures sat around it deep in discussion.

"We leave tonight. It’s a new moon, and darkness will be our cover." A man with a stern jaw and thick eyebrows stomped his foot, drawing attention to the group.

The six others in the room nodded in agreement and dispersed to the sleeping quarters. They had the day to pack and make preparations for the nearing journey.

Martin, one of the Seven, stood in his room fumbling over his belonging as Thorbern stood in conversation at his doorway.

"This will be a great triumph for the Seven," said Thorbern scratching his white beard.

"I agree," Martin replied, an air of doubt in his voice, "but with the times of darkness and war one can never be sure."

Thorbern nodded, and there was a mocking voice from down the hall, "Doubts!" a red haired fellow with fierce eyes scoffed. "There isn’t a dwarf in the mines to match our steel."

Thorbern groaned and glared at Red crossly, "Eavesdropping again, Red?"

"Maybe so," Red grinned mischievously, "but you two always have your doubts no matter how the odds are matched. Doubts or no, we ride tonight, and day after tomorrow we’ll see what sort of doubts you’re having."

With that, he patted his money pouch and disappeared from the doorway.

Thorbern winked at Martin, "He’s right you know."

Martin supposed so, but rumors told of the Dark Lord gaining wealth and power, and there was a sure bet they would be involved in the job as well as the Seven. Just then the clunk of heavy boots sounded down the sleeping quarters and Martin had no more time to think about the matter. The men left their rooms and stood at full attention in the hall.

"Thorbern," Raven ordered, "help Thatch load the rest of the supplies onto the horses, and Martin once you’re finished preparing, help Burr pack our rations. He’s in the cellar. Make haste, you fairies," his voice echoed. "Night approaches; we ride in three hours." Raven tromped out of the sleeping quarters, his cape trailing behind him obediently.

Thorbern left without another word, and Martin retreated back into his room to finish preparing. He shoved his bedroll into a pack and hoisted the rest of his belongings over his shoulder.

"So long, room," he said, closing the heavy, oak door. "I shall return with gold and scars to prove the tale." He locked the door, pocketed the key, and made way towards the cellar.

When Martin reached the cellar, Burr was already busy unloading the contents of several barrels into seven small satchels on the dusty floor; he was glad to have help and immediately set Martin to work.

"I need four more barrels of food rations from the back," he instructed, "and another jar of ointment."

Food rations. Martin remembered them too clearly and unpleasantly from the last job. They were stuck eating the bland rations for three months. Anyone could survive a day on one ration, but Raven insisted on them eating two at least. This made for a belly ache and unpleasant after tastes for as long a Martin could remember.

Despite his lurching stomach Martin hauled the barrels over to Burr and retrieved the ointment as well. It wouldn’t be long before it was out of the jar and stinging in their wounds.

"Why so glum?" Burr asked, noticing the persistent frown on Martin’s face.

"I dunno." Martin tried to even out his frown, unsuccessfully. "It’s just the war is getting worse for both sides. Wouldn’t you say it’s a fair guess the Black King will be sending scouts to check out the find, too?"

Burr narrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I suppose you’re right, but even if they did, we can handle a few scouts."

"Yes," Martin replied, "but it would draw more attention to the Seven. We could be putting ourselves on Black King’s most wanted list."

Burr shuddered at the thought of the Infertile Valley. "Don’t fret about it. Raven won’t let it come to that."

Martin agreed and shoved the rest of the dried meat into his satchel.

"That’s all," Burr concluded and dusted his hands on his leather leggings. "Now help me carry these up to the gate, and we’ll be done."

Martin carried three of the satchels and his bedroll and hurried up the stairs.

* * *

There was one hour till departure. The red fall sun was setting, and long shadows ran across every hill like water. Again the group was gathered. Six robed figures sat around the lit hearth. The day would soon be done and a great friend, the night, would arrive.

The room was quiet as they listened to the crackle of the fire and the call of the barn owls. Thistle, the Seventh in the group entered the room with several steaming mugs, distributed them, then disappeared only to return with more.

It was licorice tea to calm their minds for the journey ahead. The Seven had begun the final preparation. No one spoke but everyone thought of the coming days and sipped their steaming mugs. The next hour continued in this manner, then one by one, they the rose and made their way outside, down the brick walk to the horses.

The night was warm, and the air smelled of old campfires; the sky was clear and the moon new. The seven companions mounted their horses and rode off. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, their speed increased and they galloped silently south. Their destination, the Dwarfish Mines....

Chapter Two

The Seven had been riding for hours on end south to their destination, and they were already approaching he desert where the mines lay. Despite their heavy deerskin cloaks the cold penetrated and chilled their bones. Riding had become much harder do to the sand and the already exhausted horses slowed to a trot. Using the stars as their compass the Seven, led by Raven, made their way south east until in the distance, a huge chasm in the sand could be seen. Dark smoke and dust from the quarry was rising from within it.

As they neared the mines the sun began to shine over the desert like the eye of a dragon bringing with it strong gusts of wind. The sand began to rise and swirl around them as the sand in a tipped hourglass. The thieves were forced to hide their faces in their cloaks.

"Keep in a straight line. If you lose track of the horse in front of you stop and wait for the wind to die down! We’re almost there," Raven yelled to the rest of the group hoping everyone could hear.

"This is awful timing!" Thistle choked on the sand that grit in his throat.

"No, no, no," Thorbern shook his head. "Think of it this way. The gate will be off guard with the chaos of the storm. It’ll be much easier to get in."

Behind another cloak Red had a hideous grin on his face. Any moment now he could see himself slashing down a dwarf or snatching the powerful relic from one of them. This was the kind of moment he lived for.

Suddenly the group halted. a large white washed stone wall with an iron gate stood in their way. The sand beat off the wall showering the thieves with tiny pebbles. Raven dismounted his horse and approached the gate, his long black hair flailing in the air like a hundred snakes. Sword in hand he bashed the gate open and found himself in an empty courtyard, sand littered the ground in small footprint like patches. On the opposite side of the courtyard there were two large iron double doors. As the rest of the group followed Raven in and tied their horses down they noticed that the doors were decorated with a storyboard. On the left door was a picture depiction of the mines on the right there was a excerpt from an ancient tome.

"Its written in East tongue the language of the wizards." Burr observed.

"Can you read it?" Raven questioned.

"Yes its a bit unclear but I get the drift." Bur paused and then began to read after a prodding stare from Raven.

"The land is born and new again,

The blade is safe and sound.

All hidden in the dunes of sand below the rocky ground.

And tales will rise anew one day,

When the blades recovered from the clay,

And brought into the light of day,

To the mourning mountains crown."

"We’ll see about that." Said Red brandishing his sword, "There won’t be any tales if there’s no one to tell them."

Martin turned away from Red’s piercing glare. Hopefully this would be a quick in and out deal, no messes.

"In we go," using the hilt of his scimitar Raven knocked on the door and waited for the reply. There was none. Again Raven banged on the door and once more the knock was not returned.

Raven sighed and sheathed his weapon, "Brace yourselves against the door were going to push it open."

The others did as Raven commanded and on the count of three they used their strength to push open the heavy door. After several hopeful creaks the door lurched forward on its rusting hinges. There was a scratch of metal on metal and an arm sword in hand swung out the door. It was pale and lifeless, cold to the touch.

Martin shuddered his fears were confirmed. The Dark Lord had sent someone and that someone was probably already in the mines.

Raven, who wasn’t phased by the severed limb, stooped down to examine the wound, "This wasn’t done with an ordinary sword or any weapon for that matter. It appears to have been ripped off the body itself."

The group was silent.

"But," Raven continued, "This is the work of one scout not more than that. We can handle one.

Without a word they pushed the door to its widest and entered the dark mines prepared, they hoped, for any thing. Inside there was a long corridor, lit only by a few torches. The floors were chiseled into the rock and their boots echoed horribly. The rock was dark reddish brown in color probably formed from the sands of the desert long ago. The wall were smooth and well crafted except for a few pits where a gem or valuable stone once grew. The hall led steadily downward and was completely empty accept for the occasional cave spider.

The seven walked, poised for attack at any moment, to the end of the corridor. Here the hall split in two. One way led to the mines themselves the other to the Wardens quarters.

Raven lead right, heading down to the Warden's quarters as quietly as possible. No more than a few steps into the dark passage there came a sound of boots and a fat dwarf strode out into view. Raven guessed it was the Warden.

The dwarf kept a steady pace lumbering towards the group staring blankly. He found a nice spot in the shadows and stopped there. Raven stepped forward to greet the man but was cut off by the dwarf’s low accented voice.

"Hullo."

"Good ‘aye, you must be the Warden." Raven spoke in a calm voice. "I’m here for the Silver Bane."

"Ah ye," the dwarf leaned back on his heels and grinned. "Ye have the money?"

"Yes, I have the agreed upon amount." Raven drew a bag filled with coins and tossed it to the dwarf, "The sword?"

"Ah," the dwarf drew a shinning long sword. It was the blade the excerpt on the doors spoke of.

Raven grinned and reached out to take it. The dwarf leaned forward and with an amazing show of strength brought it down and through Raven’s right shoulder. Raven was to stunned to react.

"No!" Martin cried out almost feeling the pain of the wound in his own shoulder. "Someone, the dwarf!"

Red was one step ahead of Martin. He took an arrow from his quiver, placed it on his bowstring, and fired. The dwarf hover had already fallen and the arrow simply bound down the corridor harmlessly.

Red rushed forward to check out the dwarf who had mysteriously fallen while the others went to help Raven, their fallen leader. The dwarf, as Red found him, was very cold, pale, and dead. It didn’t make sense. You don’t just die all of the sudden.

"He’s dead," Red said over his shoulder more to himself then anyone. "It doesn’t make sense. He’s already so cold."

Raven how was all too pale himself sputtered, "Yes, yes it does."

All eyes fell on the thing Raven was staring at, and the same paleness fell on each heart as well. Above the body of the dead Warden stood a darkly cloaked figure. His robes were blacker then the shadow behind him, and all of a body they could see were two wretched pale hands protruding from his robes. The figure stood silently as he pulled an arrow from his chest and snapped it in two. Red shivered, remembering it as his own.

Chapter Three

Answers

The seven stood facing the terrible creature, with weapons drawn and tense.

"It's a Dark Governor." Raven whispered to Red who had an arm under Ravens shoulder, holding him up.

"What's a Dark Governor?" He asked keeping one eye on the black figure and one on Raven. The creature was no more than a few feet away and it was unnerving even for an experienced thief.

"It's a soldier spawned by the Dark Lord's magic. They are trained to-"

Raven stopped as the figure stooped down in front of them and pried the Silver Blade form the Dwarfish Warden's hand. As the figure bent over, a rush of foul smelling air was pushed over to the Seven.

The figure grasped the sword in his bony hands and swung it through the air getting a feel for it. Then with a bone-chilling screech, the Dark Governor rushed forward. The Seven found themselves being pushed away by some invisible force as the creature sailed by at an incredible speed its feet never touching the ground.

"After it!" Raven reached out to grab the figure as it passed, in vein. "I can stand."

Raven shoved Red aside and stood up weakly to chase the Dark Governor who had disappeared down the hall.

"Wait!" Bur stopped Raven placing two hands on his shoulders. "You're in no shape! Stop, a strong will is of no use with a weak body. Rest a moment, I have to clean your wounds."

Raven scowled and collapsed against the wall, "So be it."

Bur removed a jar from his satchel and screwed off the lid. It smelled of pine. It was healing ointment. Bur smeared the yellow goo onto a soft medical wrapping and wound it around Ravens shoulder and under his armpit. Raven wasn't sure if the ointment or the initial wound hurt more, but either way he was in a lot of pain.

* * *

After Bur cleaned the wounds and they had calmed their horses, the Seven left the mines and headed east, to the town of Greystone. There, they gathered more supplies and headed northward to the forest Grey Wood.

It was the dusk on the third day since they had left the mines and the shadows were lengthening across the fields near the edge of the woods. The Seven had begun a fire and set up camp not more then an hour before. Red engaged Raven, who was leaning against a large oak, in conversation.

"Raven?" Red prodded quietly.

"Yes?" Raven opened his eyes and turned his head towards Red, he never really slept anymore.

"That thing we saw in the mines, that wasn't any kind of black scout we've encounter before." Red rubbed his chin; he didn't like appearing ignorant.

"No, you're right it was a Dark Governor." Raven murmured back, not wanting to draw unwanted attention from the others.

Red simply raised an eyebrow in reply, silently stating that he didn't know about the Governors.

"They're not like scouts at all. You se scouts are simply humans trained to more quickly and quietly. These Governors are far more powerful. They were created by the dark lord's magic long ago when he raised his fortress, the mourning mountains, from the Great Plains. They were and apparently still are his primary defense and power house. I was unaware that they even existed. Most of the legends about them were simply dismissed as nightmares."

"What else makes them different from the scouts." Red was intrigued and no longer tried to hush his voice.

"They can create legions of evil warriors." Raven put his fingertips together and tapped them.

"Huh?" Red wrinkled his forehead.

"Do you not see?" Raven sighed, "The Governor was able to kill the warden then control his body. He could make him talk, walk, even attack me."

Red reseated him self uneasily.

Ravens eyes narrowed and a very dark scared look came a crossed his face, "The Dark Governor didn't even bother to kill us. It is too powerful and the Dark Lord must have some hunch to send a Governor to do his dirty work. Bur thinks it might have something to do with the inscription on the double doors outside of the mines. That bit about the sword it being brought into the light of day to the mourning mountain's crown. Bur and yourself are the only ones I have spoken to about this and I wish it to stay that way until we decide exactly what it is we wish to do."

"I say we go north to the council of eleven." Red suggested hopefully.

"Yes, Bur and I had already discussed that. I think it's a good idea, but I'm not sure how much the council knows. Word gets around, and I haven't heard anything in the Haven or elsewhere. We could be the only ones."

"When do we tell the others." Red asked feeling slightly important.

"That for me to decide. It will be soon. Quite soon." Raven replied and nodded back off.

Red supposed this was the end of their conversation, "I guess I'll just have to wait for more answers," he murmured to himself, "More answers."

The next day arrived with a cold morning fog at the edge of the grey wood. The wind rustled through the camp carrying the newly changing leaves in schools like maroon fish parading the air. In the distance the siloutte of a tower stood marking the center of Greystone.

Raven who hardly slept most times, had risen form his roost in the crook of an oaks roots and now stood over the fire, tending to breakfast.Soon the rest of the travelers were up and bustling around in the harsh morning light; the smell of berries and sweet bark hanging in the air. Burr and Raven knelt fireside by a large cauldron they had bought in Greystone the Dwarfish capitol. Inside wild berry stew was being brewed to be poured over the sweet bark they had found not too far into the woods.

Everyone had eaten, and spirits were high, especially after such an unexpectedly good breakfast, and Raven had decided to call a meeting concerning his decision. The seven gathered around using the unused fire wood as short chairs to listen to their leader.