"Outwitted (Part twenty one)" an original work of fiction for #365d...

This is today's offering (day 188) for @mydivathings' #365daysofwriting challenge (click here to see her current post)

Today's picture prompt (below) is a Photo by Chanakya on Unsplash(https://unsplash.com/photos/zT5bBI2NFNo)

With Pewds gone I was free to act how I saw fit, without his bleating and whining holding me back. My empire had grown too. Pewds had family, but they were not in contact, they had no interest in his work or life. They would not miss him so, on my return, I chose not to inform them of his “accident”. I took over his apartment - such as it was - and his lock up where we had conducted so many experiments together. The Big House was mine too, in all but name. My mother was technically still alive, but she had ceased to make decisions.

I had property, I had money, I had knowledge. But I needed more.

I had learned so much of the art of the power: how to manipulate objects, to create substance out of dust, how to destroy, how to kill. But the one thing that my sister learned so early on - the ability to transport oneself over great distances - still eluded me.

The country was at war, at this time, of course. My sister and Grevyl spent much of the time in the city, advising the King on strategy, or - I suspected, and later found to be true - using the power to transport themselves and soldiers behind enemy lines. Thanks to this strategy, our country was close to winning the war, and my sister and her pet were becoming invaluable to the King.

Once I had arranged for the items we had “acquired”, on our trip to the Desert Lands, to be transported safely to either Pewds lock up, or the Big House, my attention focused on my sister and her secrets. Piggs was able to supply me with two men to help me with my plans, and it was with Frick - a small man who, he claimed, could break into any building in the land - and Sacker - who for a man that appeared to be made entirely of muscle, seemed incredibly agile - that I traveled up North to Grevyl’s family home.

With my sister and Grevyl occupied with the King and the War, I was certain that we would find the small castle unguarded, accept for perhaps one or two servants. I had never been so far North, and it took longer than I had planned. We rode horses, exchanging them at Inns for fresh ones. Grevel’s castle was on the edge of the Dark Seas, an isolated place, almost on an island itself. It was said that, a few centuries ago, Grevyl’s family sheltered the Wronged Prince, himself, successfully, defending the castle from attacks from both land and sea for months. There was only one way in and out: across an impressive iron bridge. As our horse’s hooves clip clopped onto the bridge, a man dressed in black a large sword at his belt, stepped out of the shadows.

“Who goes there?” he asked, his voice strong and confident.

Drawing in our horses I raised my hand, signalling to Frick and Sacker to wait.

“I come at the request of Master Grevyl,” I said. From my satchel I pulled a scroll, secured with a perfect copy of Grevyl’s wax seal. I could not risk using the power this close to Grevyl’s home, any disruption in dust would likely alert him, wherever he was. If there were other guards within the castle I didn’t wish to alert them with a sword fight. Not if I could avoid it with a little simple deception.

“The Master is not here,” the man said, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He made no move to take the scroll. “The Master allow no visitors in his absence.”

“My good man,” I said, trying not to let my frustration show in my voice. “Please, take the scroll and you will see your Master’s clear instructions to the contrary. You do not wish to make him angry, I am sure.”

The man hesitated and for a moment I thought he seemed to reach for it, but then his grip strengthened on his sword and he shook his head.

“My instructions are clear,” he said. “Turn your horses around and leave.”

“Very well,” I said. “But it is you that will have to bear the wrath of your Master.” I made as to turn my steed around, and gave the signal to Sacker. Before the guard had his sword fully out of the scabard, Sacker had leapt from his horse and kicked the man over, and had his arms around his neck. The snap of the man’s broken neck was almost masked by the clatter of his sword as it fell to the floor.

“We’ll proceed on foot,” I said, climbing down from my horse, and picking up the sword. It was heavier than it looked, I needed both hands to lift it. “The horses hooves make too much noise on this bridge, if there are others like him,” I nodded at the twisted body on the ground. “I do not want them to be ready for us,” I passed the sword to Sacker, and frowned. “We’ve made enough of a racket as it is.”

The three of us stalked across the bridge. Frick had a thin bladed knife in his hand, Sacker had the guards sword in his right hand, he carried it with ease, as if were as small and slight as Frick's knife.

As we crossrf the roar of the Dark Sea grew louder. The sound reassured me: anyone this side of bridge would not have heard the brief fight over the crashing of the waves against the rocks.

The windows of the castle were dark, except one on the ground floor. The kitchen, most probably. I indicated to the others and Frick nodded. Keeping to the shadows we crept up to the castle walls. Suddenly, Frick leapt into the air and almost before I saw him do it he was up on a window ledge and had forced open a window and he was in. Sacker and I waited. I could hear my heart thump, almost in time with the beat of the sea pounding the rocks. Then I heard another sound, the soft click of a lock, and Frick’s smiling face appeared around an opening door.

Inside there were oil lamps on the walls, giving off enough light for me to see the stone hallway we stood in. It felt cold and damp, and I wondered how my sister could have tolerated to live for so long in such a place. Frick pointed at a corridor and held up two fingers. Two people. I waited as Sacker followed Frick down the corridor. They looked almost comical a large bull of a man following such a slight creature. I heard something that sounded like pots falling and then a moment later Frick appeared, smiling.

“All clear, down here,” he said. Sacker came up behind him gnawing on what looked like a leg of lamb. He offered it too me, and I shook my head. He shrugged, and took another bite.

“They eat well, here,” he said, his mouth full of meat and fat. “Almost a shame to lose such a good cook.”

I pointed up the stairs, and whilst they went to check for other occupants, I took a look down the corridor. As I had assumed it was a kitchen. A fire burned in the hearth and it smelt of bread and roast lamb. On the floor was a large woman, her head at an unnatural angle, and a young boy. I wondered, briefly, if the boy was her son, or just a kitchen boy hired from the village a few miles down the road.

What I was looking for would not be found here, so I moved on. The only other room of interest was a large sitting room. I guessed it might have been comfortable once, but now it smelt of mould and neglect. Mathilde would not store her papers here.

I returned to the hallway and made my way up the stone stairs. Frick poked his head out from a doorway on the first floor.

“Nothing here,” he said. “I think what you're looking for is in the top room. It has a heavy lock on it. Sacker is taking care of it.” As he spoke I heard the sound of hammering, and then the splintering of wood.

I followed the sound and at the top of two more flights of stairs I found a door hanging from its hinges. Inside, Sacker stood looking around at the strange machinery - familiar to me, of course - and shelves piled high with papers and books.

“I hope you know what you're looking for,” he said. I nodded and he shrugged and left me to it. He would be no further help, so I was grateful to be left alone.

As young children, my sister and I had amused ourselves making notebooks. It was books such as these that she used later to fill with her codes, and it was these that I looked for now.

After a long search I found a bundle of them in a locked desk drawer. There was no way to know which one would unlock the secrets of the notes I already had so I took them all. I found other notes and papers that might also aid my research and stuffed them into my satchel, too.

Then I pulled over shelf upon shelf of books. I was not able to take everything. But at least I could prevent my sister from possessing this knowledge. I pulled an oil lamp from the wall and stood in the doorway. With a grim smile I threw it down onto the pile of books. I watched the fire take hold for a moment, and then ran down the stairs. Flick and Sacker were waiting for me in the hallway, each holding a bag of what they laughingly referred to as valuable - battered old silver that I doubted would fetch much. But if they wanted to carry it all the way back home, that was up to them.

“Let's go,” I said and walked out into the night.

We were halfway across the bridge when I felt it. I turned. Dust shifted and swirled in the air and there appearing from within a cloud was Mathilde, her face ashen.

“What have you done?” her voice was clear above the sound of the ocean. “Oh, brother, what have you done?”

I stood still, closed my eyes, and let the power flow through me.

When I opened my eyes i watched he fireball I’d released roar up the bridge destroying everything in its wake.

Of my sister there was no sign, but her voice echoed in my mind.

What have you done?

"Outwitted (Part twenty one)" an original work of fiction for #365daysifwriting challenge