The Thief: Chapter Two

In Which a Thief Meets a Brod

Dear reader, this is the third part in a serialised story. The short prologue and first chapter are worth reading first! See the index for all parts of this story. More chapters will be released soon. If you like it, make sure you are subscribed to get the next chapter right in your inbox. Please like, comment and share if you want to see more of this decidedly unserious little story!

Brod knew not whence the thief had come nor where they had gone but his nose was the pride of the East Delflings. Large and bulbous, it could smell a trail better than any hound. Brod had smelt the thief’s scent in the longhouse and followed it west. The smell would not linger forever but it was enough to send Brod in the right direction. He was confident that he would find his way to The Ring, if only he could catch up to the thief.

The chill morning air gently slapped his voluminous cheeks, threatening to distract his sensitive nose. Brod took a deep sniff and was relieved to find the thief’s scent still discernible.

Fingering the hilt of his sword, Brod imagined the moment he would confront the thief and win back The Ring. What flamboyant joy would be kindled in the hearts of the East Delflings when The Ring was returned.

Brod felt the strength in the great riding pig beneath him like a force of nature. The pig’s name was Flamp. Grandest of the royal herd, he stood at least two hands taller than the rest. The gleam in Flamp’s eyes spoke of deep intelligence. His odour was slight and would not becloud his nostrils in his search for the thief. Tightening his grip on the rains, he urged Flamp onwards. The pig responded with a thunderous grunt that filled Brod’s heart with pride.

---

The thief felt gleeful. Her heart swelled with delight at what she had done. With The Ring securely around her waist, hidden beneath her cloak, none would catch her. How could they, with the luck of the gods on her side? Soon she must stop to perform the gyration to obtain the day’s luck. Her keen eyes spied a likely spot to stop. A small spinney promised privacy from any prying eyes. She rode a fast riding sheep, preferring its speed to the stamina and raw power of a pig. She pulled back on the reins and brought the sheep to a slow trot.

As she approached the spinney, she raked the trees with a keen eye, well used to finding danger. No sign of travellers, or less savoury occupants, could she see. Coming under the trees felt like entering the mouth of a cave. Damp musty smells of earth rose from the ground. It was much darker under the trees’ canopy, for the spinney was densely packed and the trees evergreen. As her eyes adjusted, she heard birds twittering above. A reassuring sign that no danger lurked nearby. Pulling on the rains, she brought the sheep to a stop, and leapt to the ground with a soft thud. With one hand on the hilt of her sword, she scanned the surrounding trees one more time. Satisfied she was not being observed, she removed her cloak.

The Ring gleamed brightly despite the gloom. Slowly, she moved her hips around and the ring began to bounce and rotate. The touch of it was surprisingly light as it spun. Her ears caught a faint tune as though the gods’ magic had a music to it. After a few minutes, she judged it would be enough to gain the luck she needed. It was then that the troglodytes attacked.

Arrows rained down in all directions, save for at her. A troglodyte threw a spear, and instead of impaling her, it struck one of its fellows. She could not believe her eyes. Troglodytes were supposed to be a myth. The ancient enemy of the delflings were presumed a narrative creation to fill the great epics with fear and eventual delfling triumphs. Troglodytes they were though, what else could they be with greenish skin and hair, and such a generous amount of general knobbliness.

Fascinated and terrified in equal measure, she noticed how similar they also were to delflings in height and girth of bellies. Their smell was altogether more damp and earthy though, as it assaulted her sensitive, delfling nose. They wore black armour that shone dully and appeared to be made of the large scales of some dread cave creature of reptilian nature.

War cries rang out, and six troglodytes ran at her from all sides. Four tripped over and the last two crashed headlong into each other, each falling backwards, apparently knocked out. The remaining three standing troglodytes looked at her with weary expressions, perhaps grasping that something unusual was at play. One slowly raised his bow and fired. Instinct made her jump to the ground, earning herself a mouthful of bitter soil, but the arrow hit another troglodyte, who had just stood up after tripping over. He screamed in outrage.

---

Brod heard sounds of battle issuing from the spinney. Without thought, he urged Flamp onwards to see what was afoot. As he careered into the cover of the trees, a strange, almost mouldy smell filled his nostrils. It was chaos. A delfling woman lay on the ground surrounded by largely wounded creatures straight out of myth. They looked like descriptions of the delflings’ ancient foe, the troglodytes, but that was impossible.

Shouting a war cry, echoed by a snort of rage from Flamp, Brod charged the remaining three standing creatures. They scattered and fled, taking their wounded with them. Coming to a skidding stop, Brod wondered at their ability to disappear. One moment they had been scrambling to escape and the next they were just not there. Brod looked around. The woman was standing nearby, eyeing him warily as she fastened a long travel cloak about herself.

He noted a youthful face, perhaps his own age. Aware he was staring at her, he dismounted. “Greetings. I am Brod.”

“Well met, Brod, I am Thea.”

She looked as shaken as Brod himself felt. Troglodytes!

“I think they were troglodytes, though I had believed them nothing more than myth,” she said.

Brod nodded, “Strange days indeed to see our most ancient enemy in the flesh.”

“Stranger still how they appeared and disappeared so suddenly,” she replied.

“Foul underground magics, I presume,” he said.

It was then that he remembered The Ring, but he could smell nothing of it. The weird smell of the troglodytes was all his nose detected. Could Thea be the thief? Now was not the time. They needed to make haste in case the troglodytes returned. Thea had already mounted her sheep, which miraculously had not fled. Moving to Flamp, he said, “Shall we travel a while together? Safety in numbers?” Thea nodded and, without waiting for him, she urged the sheep onwards. Mounting Flamp, he rode after her. As they left the spinney it began to snow and a cruel wind rushed in from the north.

See the index for all parts of this story.