The Lord of Thieves

The others called him Zero, didn’t know what he called himself in the dark hours, in the solitude of his own drunk.

This is a fictionalization of a DnD campaign.

Part 1: Irwin’s Turn

Part 2: A Weeping Willow

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Dead drunk, the little one awoke because of the stink of fire. Well, the smoke. Made him hungry. Smelled like a roast.

But his appetite was quickly lost. He was jostling over Hape’s shoulder, jostle—jostle—jostle—jostle. His stomach pressed into the great lump’s shoulder bone. Puked. Some splashed off the great troll’s heel, but they kept running.

Why were they running?

Oh, of course: the fire. The place was on fire. The little one remembered—

They stopped.

“Jump, Hape! Jump!” the dwarf’s voice echoed ahead of them. He felt one of the troll’s hollow heads shake no. “Jump!”

“Hape!”

“Come now.”

The little one squeezed around under the troll’s forearm, bigger than he, and slipped out, landed on silty stone.

Ah yes, he remembered. A chasm, or a cliff. Not long ago—what? a few hours?—they’d been trying to find a way across this small, sharp, dwarven-carved ravine with dragons’ teeth at the bottom. Sickly greedy, dwarves. Their fortresses always worth the risk.

The troll had broken the little one’s favorite rope crossing. Now he could spy a bit of it, like floss, down between two humongous teeth.

He looked up at Hape, holding their arm up as though the little one were still nestled inside. They were a soft, gentle creature, just fat enough to snap elvish rope and uglier than piss, but gentle. When they’d all met them, Hape’s heads had been crying.

But enough soft. Through the doorway behind them black bulls of smoke stampeded into the room; heat roared. Across the chasm, back the way they had come, the others were impatiently waiting, barking at the troll to jump.

They could jump it. Probably. The little one certainly could.

“Come on,” the little one said, taking Hape’s other hand. Peter, the left head, looked down at him, surprised, as Harry gawked at the arm he’d thought held the little one. “You have to jump.”

Both heads shook. Hape cowered back, but the heat of the fire crashed into them, and they limped back forward, one ginormous toe dangling over the edge. Their toenail was like a tooth, the little one thought, half dreamily. He was still really drunk; the floor kept rocking.

The fire was getting louder. It sucked in air from deep down in the chasm. Across the drop Irwin waved frantically, red-faced. Her pretty eyes bulged.

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The little one’s name was Ezeroth and he was the Lord of Thieves. The others called him Zero, didn’t know what he called himself in the dark hours, in the solitude of his own drunk, but he was what he was.

They had come here at the bidding of a dragon—all of them but Ezeroth had sworn an oath to come here. There was a sword, the dragon had said, that they could use to kill another dragon.

Ezeroth had stolen away into the dark shadows of the trees instead of taking the oath. And when they had arrived here, at this tower, after the others had fallen asleep, Ezeroth had gotten up, drunk—always drunk, the Lord of Thieves—and stumbled through the long, low aisles carved by dwarven hands, guarded by a dragon’s mouth, where surely gold was hid.

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Never in his life before had the little one done what he did then; he had no idea why he did it, but you might, if you too could see Hape’s faces.

“Come now,” the little one repeated, “I’ll make the leap lighter. See?”

Peter watched the little one draw deep down into his pocket, extract the pretty ruby he’d found in the dark, that he had taken, that had summoned the ghost, the curse, started the fire they were all about to burn in, and flicked it—with only some hesitation—into the mouth of the flames.

Nothing happened.

Honestly, Ezeroth thought the fire would stop and when it didn’t he immediately wanted to lurch back into the flames and grab his ruby. He even stepped after it, but, as though somehow capable of detecting the thoughts of another—they were hardly capable of thinking their own thoughts—Hape nabbed the little one, hurled him over the other unpleasant shoulder, and leapt across the chasm.

Zero screamed, but they landed safe and mostly sound.