Project: Shadow Walker. Dalin Moss
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"The handle was all greasy from your breakfast this morning! It's you that needs to be more careful!"
"Me?" The first man chuckled. "If it weren't for me the whole stack of pots would've tumbled! If I hadn't…." He stopped abruptly.
Another voice, light and songlike, mumbled from farther ahead, too quiet for Jim to properly hear.
"I'm sorry angel, we didn't mean to wake you. Uncle Supe and I were just cooking up some roasted onions. Would you like some?"
The quiet voice mumbled again.
"No, no, it's alright! We're not angry at each other." The second man said, kindly. "Just a bit tired."
"Let's get you back to bed." The first man said. "I could tell you the story of Dinny again. Her stories always help you have happy dreams."
The quiet voice sounded in a delighted chirp.
"Dinny was one of our guardian Heroes. She was known to hunt game, using a bow crafted from the four trees of the Hero people." The man's voice grew distant as he spoke. "She was kind, even to us humans, and defended our villages when our walls were torn to splinters after the…." The sound of a door opening and closing ended the man's story.
Jim moved then, squeezing through the door and easing it closed with a barely audible click. He stayed low, observing the hallway and the many doors that led to varying rooms. At the end of the hall was a shimmering, silver kitchen, lit by a faint fire and accompanied by a lone man. The man stared at the dancing flames, humming softly and cooking fragrant vegetables in a metal pan. At the far end of the kitchen, Jim saw a small door, placed precariously above one counter, the dumbwaiter.
Jim crouched to the bar, keeping his head lower than the table's surface. To reach the small door he'd have to distract the man. Jim pulled out a handful of copper coins and jingled them just loud enough for the man to hear. The man's humming stopped as he listened intently. Jim shook the coins louder and more persistent than before.
The man stood and cleared his throat. "Hello?" He asked. "Who's there?"
Soft footfalls told of the man's careful approach. Jim dropped the coins, ensuring they scatter messily where he waited. As the man came nearer, Jim pivoted around the bar, using the solid surface as a barrier from the man's sight.
"Huh?" The man grunted. "What's this?" He bent down to inspect the spread of coins. "Father, bless." He whispered after a moment, then began noisily collecting the small sum.
Jim snuck to the dumbwaiter and lifted the door with a quiet resonance. The thief stopped for a breath, then, noting that the man had not heard the small noise, he slunk into the shaft and slid the door closed.
The inside of the dumbwaiter was small and cramped. The smell of dust and copper hung heavy in the stale air, making the dark shaft feel ancient and confined. Jim reached above the mobile box for the thick wires that stretched up to an unseen destination. Then, he climbed.
The feeling of strain in his arms and hands gave Jim a small exhilaration. With each pull of his body he rose above countless stories and came closer to another successful mission. When he reached the circular gear that served as the dumbwaiter's pulley, the thief brushed his hand against the wall until he found the inner latch that released the door to the master suite on the highest floor of the Father Tower.
The soft moonlight was almost blinding to Jim's sensitive eyes. He lifted a hand to shield his vision and squinted to observe the elegant suite.
The floors were covered in a red, velvet rug, a chandelier made of clear crystal hung from the center of the ceiling, and on each wall were paintings of religious figureheads. Sitting against one wall was a table, covered in jewelry and a scattering of papers, and, against the farthest wall, near a large window adorned in purple drapes, was the largest bed that Jim had ever seen.
Jim walked to the table, searching for the ring, for the totem that would mark his success. But, while there were many rings that seemed to hold incredible value, there was none that fit his desired description. He moved then to the bed, tossing the pillows and blankets in search of hidden treasures, but found nothing but dust and yellowing sheets. A chest rested at the bed's foot, but, searching through the contents, Jim only found more papers and a few, motheaten cloaks.
As he stood, Jim felt the hairs on his neck rise as he heard a muffled click. The thief dove to the bedside as an explosion and the smell of gunpowder erupted in the room. Fiery heat radiated from Jim's shoulder where a bullet had pierced his flesh.
"Jimmy!" The voice of a man shouted, sounding far too delighted. "How unexpected to see you here!"
Jim knew the voice, knew the arrogant tones and the nauseating smell of tobacco. He'd had the displeasure of working with a man as vile as he was clever and as cruel as he was conniving, the same man who this voice belonged to.
"Floydd," Jim said, harshly, "you caught me by surprise, so I'll forgive your attack. But be smart about this. Me owing you a favor can be more valuable than any contract you'll ever accept."
"Oh, bargaining?" Floydd chuckled. "It's like you don't even know me, Jimmy! Like…like we aren't even friends."
Another gunshot rang through the suite and a pebbling of debris rained on Jim from the wall behind him.
"You know I'm a professional," Floydd continued, "and when I accept a job, I complete it. Now, why don't you peak that pretty Hero head of yours over the bed so we can be done with this?"
"This is a job?" Jim asked. "You're after a ring?"
"A ring?" Floydd said, bemused. "Oh, yes, the ring."
Floydd flicked something into the air, the object tumbling to where Jim was crouched. Jim picked up the onyx ring, an engraving of a phoenix covering its face. On the inside of the ring, a fine inscription read "The Death Killer, a true and living God".
"Most of us have wanted you dead for some time now, Jimmy." Floydd taunted. "But you are a slippery vermin. It took me a few years to set this all up, but my payment is well worth it. You're making me a near legend, Jimmy; killing a Hero is no small feat. Now, why don't we get this over with? It's time to accept your fate, stand up and…"
Jim stood suddenly and threw a knife at the arrogant bastard. Floydd's expression went from overconfident to surprised in an instant. Then, he began to smile. Tendrils of lightning sprouted from his waist, catching Jim's soaring blade and stopping it midair.
Now was Jim's turn to be surprised. A lightning belt? Where did he get a lightning...?
Floydd shot again, catching Jim in the side, the pain forcing him to fall backwards.
"Do you like it Jimmy?" Floydd taunted. "A small piece of my payment. A small piece of what your death is giving me." He lifted his gun and shot again.
Pain erupted from Jim's arm and his vision began to fade.
Floydd rushed to the fallen thief, lifting him by the throat and shoving him against the window. "Keep my place in Hell warm for me, Jimmy." Floydd placed the gun against Jim's chest and pulled the trigger.
The sound of gunfire and shattering glass became Jim's reality. He felt the sensation of falling and saw the distant stars as he fell from the Father Tower.
Be careful when you climb, Jim. Even one of us can die if we fall far enough.
Brisk wind flew by Jim as he fell, and the feeling of butterflies danced in his stomach. As he watched the Father Tower grow above him, he knew that the ground would meet him and end the life of the traitorous man. He closed his eyes, accepting his offering to Death.
Only…Death never came. Instead, when Jim opened his eyes, he found that the world had turned dark. No stars, no Father Tower, no death. Only falling, wind, pain, and the feeling of butterflies.
2: A Name Left Unspoken
“You are wrong.”
Jim opened his eyes, feeling the pain in his chest and