The Carvers

== Prologue: ==
Anne carefully looked over her shoulder, barely daring to breathe. No one had followed her. Her target, the gates of Rothmore Manor, was just ahead. If she squinted, she could see a few guards posted outside the gates. With luck, they would be tired. It was the middle of the night, after all. They would still be amongst the best guards in the city, and Anne wouldn’t be able to fool them into thinking she was some sort of servant that had gotten lost, or stayed out too late. These guards were prepared for those tricks. Anne’s other approaches wouldn’t work either, since the guards were trained to expect common thieves. 
No, she would need to try a different approach. This approach was the harder one, the one she didn’t take unless she had no other option. Most of the time, when this was her only option, she just gave up on the job and said there was no way in. Anne’s current job was different. The reward her employers would give her if she succeeded was more than she could earn over a decade worth of jobs - it would be enough to get her and Graham out of the street slums. 
And Emyna. Anne couldn’t forget about her, her little golden child. The young girl was already two years old, and time was flying by fast. If she didn’t act soon, little Em would be forced into living a terrible life on the streets. She didn’t want that for anyone, let alone her own child. This job would let them all out of the streets, into the nicer part of town. It might even be enough for Graham to open his carpentry shop, like he’d always wanted to. The possibilities were endless. 
Anne already knew that she didn’t have a chance to make a new life off of the streets, she had no skills that would be valued. But Em… she was doing this for her daughter. Em needed this change, Graham needed this chance, and those were the ones who would benefit from the reward. So it was with that in mind, hopeful but with a heavy heart, Anne closed her eyes and searched within her for the spark of power that she knew was there. 
As an old friend had explained to her a long time ago, Anne wasn’t supposed to have this power. This was a forbidden gift, one with side effects. She had been warned against calling it a “gift”, “blessing”, or even “magic”. It was a curse. At first, when she pulled energy from the spark, she got increased skills, such as stealth or speed. But pull too much, and her life force would drain away. It was a delicate balance. 
The few times Anne had tried to pull from the spark, it had left her drained of energy for months. Those attempts hadn’t even been anything serious, just a few tries to sneak into a few tough targets. This time, she would need more energy. More than she had ever pulled from the spark before. And if she was going to need as much as she thought she did, she would most likely end up dead. 
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and her pounding heart, Anne took a deep breath. Then, moving as silently as possible, she started creeping towards the gates. She didn’t pull from the spark yet - that would waste it, and she wasn’t sure how much power she could pull before it ended up with her dead. Instead, she used her instincts that had been honed over years on the streets, desperately sneaking into places to earn enough cen to scrape by for another week. 
Always the crucial currency, the wooden coins ornately covered with gold, silver, or bronze, cen was needed everywhere in the Empire to survive. For her entire life, getting enough cen had been Anne’s first priority. Now, this was looking like the last time she would have to prioritize money. She just needed to succeed in this job, and survive long enough to get the reward back to Graham, so he could turn it in, and get himself and Emyna out. 
By the time she had her back pressed up against the wall surrounding Rothmore Manor, Anne had formulated a plan. Carefully avoiding the guards, she crept around to a spot on the wall that was slightly less fortified than the rest of it. During a riot six months ago, this section of the wall had been attacked, and repairs were in progress. Because of that, not only was the wall less sturdy, there wouldn’t be as many guards around, because they feared disturbing the construction site. It was perfect. 
Steeling her nerves for what would come next, Anne closed her eyes, found the spark, then pulled energy and strength from it, momentarily shocked as it flooded into her body. She recovered her wits a moment later, though. Standing around would waste the power, and every last drop of it was precious. Quickly, she grabbed the closet handhold on the wall and started climbing. Normally, such a climb would be impossible. There were barely any handholds, and the wall was slick, since it had rained earlier in the day.
With the energy Anne pulled from the spark, though, she was able to easily grab the first few handholds, find footholds, and climb the wall. All the while, she was worried someone would catch her. She was only pulling from the spark to increase her climbing skills, not stealth. Doing too many things would end badly. Thankfully, nobody spotted her, and within a minute or two of quick climbing, Anne found herself at the top of the wall. 
Letting out a sigh of relief, she immediately stopped pulling from the spark. A quick look around showed that all the guards that were on the top of the wall were down patrolling the other side, like Anne had planned for. Quietly, she made her way to the ladder the repair crews were using to get up and down. This would get her into the courtyard of the manor, and from there, she could get inside. 
Anne slipped down the ladder, safely stepping off without making a noise. Now, the real work had started. She pulled up her black cloth mask, the one that covered her lower face, and her hood as well. Now her face was almost completely hidden. The benefits of having clothing altered for jobs never gets old, she thought, as she quickly crept across the empty courtyard. One benefit of sneaking in late was that there was no one out, and Anne didn’t encounter anyone until she - almost too late - spotted the guards at the door to the manor. 
In a moment of quick reaction, she pulled from the spark, doing something to increase her stealth skills. She had never really understood how she did what she did, pulling from the spark, but the fact that she was able to was enough for right now. As soon as she was sure the guards didn’t notice her, Anne quietly crept along, back pressed up to the side of the manor, until she was directly under one of the second-story windows. A quick survey of the wall showed no handholds, so she wouldn’t be climbing anything.
Sighing, Anne looked around for something else to climb. A tree, maybe? If there was one that was tall enough, she could jump from the tree onto the windowsill. Sadly, there were no such trees around. The only ones that were there were too short for her purposes. Whoever had designed this place’s security had done very well indeed. Which was a problem, because that made her only option sneaking past the guards or waiting for the guards to swap out. 
Waiting for that to happen was incredibly risky, not only because there was such a short window of time to slip inside, but also because Anne was most likely to get caught if she hung around that long. Sadly, it didn’t seem like she had another option. Hopefully this job doesn’t get worse, she thought, as she crept into position. Her back was pressed against the wall of the manor, close enough that she’d be able to slip in while the guards changed, but far away enough that the guards - hopefully - wouldn’t see her. 
-----
Anne waited for what felt like an eternity. Was she wrong? Were the guards that were currently stationed at the doors going to stay there all night, and then it would be morning by the time she had the chance to slip in? She shivered. Please don’t let that be it, she thought, willing, hoping it to be true. If she lost this chance, that was it for the job. It would all be over, even without her prizes. 
Yes, Anne needed the cen that she would get from stealing this item - it was very expensive, and her employers were paying handsomely for its delivery. But she had also heard rumors that, deep within Rothmore Manor, there was a Carver’s book. Carver’s books weren’t ordinary books. No, they were about as far from an ordinary book as you could get. If Anne was able to steal the Carver’s book, she would be stealing a solid guarantee that her family would be able to survive, and live a good life. A life that she had never had the chance to live. 
She didn’t quite understand how Carver’s books worked, nobody but the Carvers did. What Anne did know was that the Carver’s books were supposedly able to do anything you wanted - as long as you wrote it in the book. A good job opportunity? Done. Just write: Give me a good job opportunity. Of course, the actual writing would have to be more specific than that, otherwise it would go terribly wrong. Even with that, everything that could be gained from a Carver’s book would be a blessing, a miracle for her and her family. 
A noise from the door caused Anne to refocus on her mission. The guards were moving! She heard voices, and couldn’t make out the distinct words - but the amount of voices was definitely more than the amount of gaurds at the door. They were switching! Carefully, she pulled from the spark, increasing her stealth abilities. Wait. Wait. Wait. Move! The guards in front of the door stepped forward a few paces, and Anne quietly darted behind them, the power from the spark allowing her to go unnoticed. 
While the guards spoke to their coworkers, Anne slowly attempted to ease the door open, so she could slip inside. It didn’t budge. Worried, she tried again, yanking on the handle a bit harder this time. Still, nothing. Sighing, Anne tried again. The door didn’t move. It must be locked - that was alright, it was a problem Anne could solve. She just didn’t know if she had enough time before the guards returned. 
Quickly, she pulled out her set of lockpicks from her sleeve and quietly set to work picking the lock. It was a tricky one, but she was extremely skilled in this area. Getting the door open wouldn’t take long. Still, the precious seconds ticked away as Anne fiddled with the lock. As she finally finished, the lock opening with a satisfying click, she heard footsteps behind her. In her shock, she stopped pulling from the spark. She hadn’t even realized that while she was attempting to pick the lock, she had still been pulling from the spark. 
Immediately, the fatigue set in. Anne stumbled, shocked by the stiffness in her muscles that she now felt and the tiredness that was threatening to overwhelm her. This was bad. She had never pulled this much before. “What’re you doing here?” The guard asked her, looming over her in a menacing way. His voice was deep, and filled with unsaid threats. The other guards, obviously realizing she was a thief, drew their swords, the weapons making a satisfying swish as they were pulled from their scabbards. 
Instead of responding, Anne turned, her movements sluggish, and pushed open the door. She hadn’t realized she’d been leaning against it, and when it swung open, she stumbled into the grand entrance hall. By the ancient Carvers, she thought. It takes so much from me. Quickly scanning the hall, she found the staircase she was looking for and dashed to it, frantically half-walking, half-stumbling her way to the top. 
There had been two grand staircases in the entrance hall, one leading to the secure room that was Anne’s target, and the other leading to the duke’s quarters. The guards actually hadn’t seen which staircase she had taken, so hopefully, they would go up the one leading to the duke’s quarters. That would buy her some time, but not much if one of the guards raised the alarm. If she didn’t move fast, her mission would be brought to an end. 
As soon as she reached the top of the staircase, Anne dashed down the hallway to the left. She wasn’t fully sure that it was the right one to take, but she didn’t have time to check the map she had brought with her. It would just be up to luck, and her ability to remember the proper route. Hopefully, her memory would prove good enough to get the directions right, and hopefully Anne would end up in the right spot. 
She didn’t. After taking a few turns at random, she had to eventually pause in a small corridor and pull out her map. After a few precious minutes spent on figuring out where she was, Anne pulled from the spark to increase her speed, then dashed down the hallways, her energy, and strength renewed. She knew it wouldn’t last long, and as soon as she stopped pulling, it would end badly. But Anne needed to get this job done with, and the spark was her best chance for survival. 
As she ran down the halls, she heard the alarm bell ringing behind her. Great. The guards, upon not finding her near the duke, had raised the alarm. Soon, all the available guards would be hunting Anne down. Even with the spark, she wouldn’t be able to outlast all the guards. Thankfully, the spark enhanced her memory and her speed, and she soon arrived at the proper location - a large, mahogany door inlaid with intricate golden carvings. 
Anne immediately extinguished the spark, and was hit by another wave of fatigue, even stronger than the last one. The force of it was so overwhelming, she gasped for breath. It felt like someone had just hit her in the stomach, knocking all the air out of her. Not only that, Anne felt so very tired. She just wanted to give up on the mission, and lay down to rest. 
No. She needed to finish this. She would not let the fatigue win. Summoning the few shreds of determination that remained, Anne got to work on picking the first of the three locks on the door. Even without trying to pick the other two, she could tell they would be much harder than the one she was currently picking. Of course, the one she was attempting to open was tricky too - it was one of the trickiest ones she had picked. 
Can I even do this? Anne wondered, as she frantically worked on the locks, straining to hear if anyone was coming. If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Guards, hunting for her. Click. She had gotten the first lock open. Even more worried and concerned now, Anne set to work on the second lock, trying to be as delicate as possible so she could get it open on the first try. With her hands shaking from nervousness, and her movements slow and sluggish because of her fatigue, it was tricky. 
In the end, Anne ended up needing three tries to open the second lock. It popped open with a satisfying click, and she immediately got to work on the next one. The footsteps of the guards were getting closer now, and she could hear voices. This was bad. If the guards caught her, that would be it for the job. Not only that, but she would most likely end up dead, executed because she dared to sneak into Rothmore Manor. 
The concept of ending up dead wasn’t the unbearable thought. Anne had already come to terms with the fact that this job might be her last. The idea of dying, and not finishing the job, was what terrified her. She had put everything into this job. If she failed, it was all over for her family. They would have no money, no way to survive, nothing. Anne’s jobs were the only thing keeping them on their feet, without her, they would fade away into nothing. 
Just as her fears were starting to overwhelm her, the third and final lock clicked open. “Finally,” She whispered, slowly opening the door. To her immense relief, it didn’t creak or make any sound at all. Anne wanted to take her time, go slowly, check for any traps or other security measures. That kind of caution was necessary for a thief, and it had saved her life more than once. 
Sadly, she couldn’t afford to spend time carefully checking every place where she walked for traps. The guards were coming, she could hear their voices clearly now. They were hunting her, trying to figure out where she had gone. It wouldn’t take them long now. Just as soon as one of the guards remembered what priceless items were down this hallway, and they would all be coming after Anne. Even with the spark, she wouldn’t be able to escape from them all. 
Which was why she needed to get to work. The room itself was dark, and there didn’t appear to be any candles anywhere. It was a long, large hallway with priceless paintings hanging on the wall, and famous pieces of jewelry in glass display cases. At the far end of the hall, displayed on a podium, was an ornate scepter covered with priceless gems. That was Anne’s target. 
She was so, so tempted to snag a few extra items in order to protect herself if things went wrong - her employers might still give her money if she could get some other valuable items. But the footsteps outside the door quickly forced Anne to change her mind. “The door is open!” A guard called out. “The thief went in here! Quickly, grab them! Make sure they don’t get away!” That was probably the lead guards, issuing orders to the lower-ranked guards. Still dangerous, though. 
Panicked, Anne dashed down the long gallery hall, running as fast as she could to reach the podium and grab the scepter before the guards got her. She had a small head start, of maybe a few seconds or so, but it wasn’t enough when she was racing fully-trained guards. They quickly caught up to her, and one of them attempted to tackle her and pin her down. Frantic, she pulled from the spark, getting a sudden burst of speed that allowed Anne to push the guard away and make a sprint for the podium.
Behind her, the guard cursed, but she was already at the podium. I should just grab the scepter and leave, Anne thought. It’d be so much easier. But… she only had one escape route - the window behind the podium, the one that was three stories above ground level. If she was going to use that desperate escape route, she might as well grab the other item she had come for. 
Her mind made up, Anne quickly ducked around the back of the podium, blindly feeling around with her hands until she found a small indent on the polished stone - the perfect place for a button. Holding her breath, she pressed it, and a hidden panel sprung open, revealing the book that was inside the podium. The Carver’s book, the book that she had come here to get, and soon, the book that she would have. 
Almost reverently, Anne reached out and gently took the book out of it’s space in the compartment. She took a few seconds to admire the intricate carving of it, the moss-green color of the cover, and the incredible detail that had gone into making the book look like the face of a dragon. As she looked into the gemstone that was the eye of the book, it was like she could feel the book itself staring into her very soul, evaluating her. 
But the sound of a sword swishing through the air brought Anne out of her admiration for the book, and she pulled from the spark, enhancing her reflexes so that she could duck away from the sword and grab the scepter from the podium. Then, she slowly backed away from the guard, getting her back to the window. A quick look around showed that she didn’t have any other way out. The guards were piling in through the door, calling for reinforcements. 
Anne was trapped. This is it, she thought, as she took a deep breath. Then, spinning around quickly, she pushed open the large window and jumped off of the windowsill, out into the dark cold night. She was falling from three stories above ground level, and the only realistic outcome was her death when she hit the ground. But the spark’s energy was never realistic, Anne thought, as she began pulling from the spark, taking in as much energy as she could, knowing that when she hit the ground, all of it would be needed. 
After falling for what felt like ages, Anne crashed into the ground. Pain flooded through her body. She felt her bones snap, and break, as she desperately pulled from the spark to keep herself alive. The amount of energy she was grabbing seemed to grow exponentially, and all of it went into healing her body, so she could get up and get away. It took so much energy, more than Anne had ever pulled before. More than she should pull. When she was younger, she had promised herself that she would never use the spark to foolishly burn away her life. Yet here she was, killing herself to save herself at the same time. 
Soon, Anne’s body was fully healed. She wasn’t going to die - from the fall, at least. Bracing herself, she stopped pulling from the spark. Immediately, she fell, her legs growing weak and giving out on her. Black spots swam before her eyes, and she started to feel lightheaded. Her breathing grew slow and labored, and it took a huge effort to take even a single breath. Anne’s mind clouded, her memory growing fuzzy. What was she doing? Why was she here? What had happened? 
Unconsciously, Anne’s grip around the scepter and Carver’s book tightened. Confused, she looked down at them. What were they? Survival, a small part of her mind whispered. Get these back to your family. These will help them, these will save them. You just need to deliver them. She didn’t know why, but Anne trusted the whisper in her mind. Slowly, with agonizing pain as her joints creaked with her movements, she stood up and started walking down the street.
Her fall out of the window had placed her in the slums of the city, so it hopefully wouldn’t be far from where Anne’s family was. Each and every step she took was painful, and slow. Walking halfway to her home, what normally would take her less than ten minutes, took over half an hour. She began to think that she wouldn’t make it. Already, her strength was vanishing. Her steps were growing slower, and slower. If she didn’t collapse in the middle of the street, the guards would surely catch her. 
Still, a shred of determination remained within Anne, and it was encouraged by the whisper in her mind. Keep going, it seemed to say. You’re almost there. You’re almost safe. Your family is almost safe. You just need to get there. With the help from the whisper, she was able to summon enough strength to get onto her block in the slums. By now, the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the tightly packed houses. Several orphans, wearing dirty and tattered clothes, were up and moving, trying to stake out the best begging spots. 
When she was almost to her house, Anne tripped over a stone in the road, and collapsed, falling to the ground. Pain flooded through her body. Her vision clouded over again, starting to go fuzzy. Get up, the whisper said. Get up, keep going. You’re almost there. “I… I can’t.” She said, her words coming out ragged, each one a struggle to say. Yes, you can. Keep going. Just a little longer. 
“No…” Anne said. “I… just… can’t…” With those words, she let herself fall to the ground, hands in front of her. For the first time since her escape, she noticed the pale, almost translucent quality to her skin. Another side effect of the spark. Should she pull from it, to get the strength to get to the house? No, you cannot. You understand? The spark means death. Death, Anne. In her state, she couldn’t tell if the words in her head were from the whisper, or if they were her own thoughts.
“Mom?” A small voice whispered, like it was unsure and afraid. Even lying in the dirt, her body having failed her, Anne recognized the voice. Emyna. Emyna was here. Em could take the scepter and book to Graham, and he could turn it in for the payment. Anne might die, might fade away here, on the street, but her family would be cared for. “Mom? What’re you doing?”
“Emyna…” She struggled to get the words out. Blackness was still crowding her vision, promising a painless descent into a void of nothingness. She could reach out and take it, if she wanted… No. You are not done yet, Anne. “Take… take these… to… your father…” A fit of coughing overwhelmed her, as she reached up with shaking hands to press the scepter and book into little Emyna’s hands.
“O… Okay…” Emyna said, hesitantly closing her fingers around the scepter, and holding the book close to her chest. “Mom… are you going to be okay?”
Anne wanted with her whole heart to say, yes, I’ll be alright. You don’t need to worry. But she knew it wasn’t true, and she couldn’t let her last words to Emyna be a lie. “No, Em… I’m not…” She coughed again, more violently this time. “Just… remember that I love you…” Anne said, her voice trailing off as she coughed up blood. I can’t go on, she thought. This is it for me. And even as she was near death, the whisper came again, comforting her. You did it. You survived long enough.
With that, Anne accepted her fate. She closed her eyes, and let the void take her.
Category:Books
Category:Books (Incomplete)