The Dark Warlock's Game

Chapter 33: Arrival at the Haven

Vardy kept thinking of what he was told.

Tracy glanced at him. “You don’t have to listen to it, you know. Whatever that... thing said about you, it doesn’t have to be true.”

Vardy didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Ferah placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “Whatever lies ahead, we will face it together. Don’t forget that.”

Vardy heaved and nodded at everyone.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice steady.

**HAVEN CITY**

Vardy’s boots hit the cobblestone street with a dull thud, his cloak pulled tight against the bustle of Haven City.

“Stay close,” Vardy muttered, his voice just loud enough for the group to hear.

Tracy adjusted her hood, glancing at the passersby. “You’re sure no one will recognize us?”

“Not at all..” Vardy replied, his tone clipped.

“Forgive me if I’m not comforted by that,” Luthor mumbled, as a vendor brushed past him causing about stolen items.

Ferah smirked, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. “This place feels lively. I like it.”

Vardy said nothing, his eyes scanning the crowded streets for any sign of danger. The city’s layout was a labyrinth, It was the perfect place to hide.

Unknown to them, a man was standing on one of the tall building his sharp eyes following the group as they moved through the crowd. He wore a black coat with cigarette in his mouth.

“They’re here,” he murmured, smoke curling around his words.

A figure emerged from the shadows behind him, their face obscured by a mask of polished steel. “The Dud?”

“And his merry little band,” the man replied, “Dean will be happy to hear this...”

The masked figure hesitated. “And you’re sure it’s him?”

The man chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure. You don’t forget a face like that.”

---

Back in the streets, Vardy led the group down a narrow side alley, the sounds of the bustling marketplace fading behind them.

“This doesn’t look like the main road,” Tracy said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

“It’s not,” Vardy replied, stopping in front of a wooden door set into the side of a building. The paint was peeling.

Knock! Knock!

The door creaked open just enough to reveal a pair of suspicious eyes peering out.

“What do you want?” a voice rasped from the other side.

“Sanctuary,” Vardy said evenly.

The eyes narrowed. “I don’t know you.”

“You know the coin,” Vardy said, pulling a small, round token from his pocket.

The door opened wider, and the man stepped back, revealing a gaunt man with unkempt hair and a nervous twitch in his hands. He gestured for them to enter.

The all went in, the door shutting quickly behind them. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single table and a few mismatched chairs. A staircase in the corner led to the upper floors.

“New faces bring trouble,” the man muttered, eyeing them warily.

“Trouble’s already here,” Vardy replied, slipping the token back into his pocket.

Upstairs, a girl no older than twelve sat with leg crossed on the floor, sketching shapes into the dust with a broken piece of charcoal. Her hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her clothes hung loose on her.

“What’re you drawing, Lira?” a woman asked, her voice soft as she leaned against the door.

The girl didn’t look up. “A shield,” she said simply.

“A shield?”

“To keep the bad things out,” Lira replied, tracing another line.

The woman’s expression darkened for a moment, but she forced a smile. “That’s smart. We could use a shield.”

—----

“We have somewhere to be,” Vardy announced.

“Really? Where?” Ferah asked spranging to her feet.

“Just follow me..” Vardy said and left first as others exchanged glances.

“I think it's the black market..” Tracy muttered.

The black market was more than a place, it was a world unto itself, hidden behind the bustling façade of the main streets.

“You’re sure this is the right way?” Tracy asked, glancing over her shoulder. Her hood was pulled low, but her spear was still visible.

“I’m sure,” Vardy replied, his tone clipped. He wasn’t in the mood to explain anything.

“I don’t like this,” Luthor muttered, clutching the strap of his pack. “Feels like everyone’s watching us.”

“They are,” Ferah said flatly, her sword resting against her shoulder. “But they’d be fools to make a move. Not with him here.” She jerked her chin toward Vardy, who didn’t bother responding.

They turned a corner and descended a set of stone steps.

Some guards stood at the archway, their faces obscured by crude iron masks. They didn’t speak, only stepped aside as Vardy flashed a small, dark token.

The black market sprawled before them like a living beast. 

“This place feels like it’s holding its breath,” Tracy whispered.

“It always does,” Vardy replied, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Stick together. We don’t have time to lose anyone.”

---

At a stall near the center, a merchant with a scar bisecting his face leaned over a crate of weapons, his sharp eyes darting between customers.

“You want steel? I got steel. You want poison? I have that too,” he said, his voice low.

Vardy approached, his face dim, “I need information.”

The merchant looked up, narrowing his eyes. “Information costs extra.”

“Everything does,” Vardy replied, tossing a small pouch of coins on the crate. “I’m looking for someone. Dean.”

The merchant froze for a second before resuming his work, pulling out a blade to polish. “Dangerous name to throw around here. Are you sure you want this?”

“Just tell me what I need to know,” Vardy said, his tone sharp.

The merchant smirked. “Suit yourself. Word is, one of his lieutenants is here. Evan. If he’s around, Dean’s not far behind.”

Vardy’s grip on his staff tightened. “Where?”

The merchant pointed toward the far end of the market. “There’s a warehouse by the docks. People who go in there don’t come out. If Evan’s anywhere, it’s there.”

“Good,” Vardy said, turning away.

“Wait,” the merchant called after him. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave that one alone. Evan doesn’t play fair.”

“Neither do I,” Vardy replied without looking back.

---

They moved toward the docks, the atmosphere growing colder as they left the main hub of the market.

“This feels wrong,” Tracy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s a trap,” Ferah said bluntly. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Vardy replied. “But we don’t have a choice. If Evan’s here, we need to deal with him now.”

Luthor hesitated. “Or we could, you know, not walk into the obvious trap.”

Before anyone could respond, a slow clap echoed from the shadows ahead.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled. “If it isn’t the infamous Dud.”

Vardy’s eyes snapped toward the sound. A figure stepped into the light, his silhouette tall and lean, a sword strapped to his back. Evan.

His face was sharp, almost fox-like, with a smug grin that made Vardy’s blood boil. “You’ve been making quite the mess, haven’t you? Dean’s not happy.”

“Good,” Vardy said coldly.

Evan chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you.”

Vardy raised his staff. “We’ll see.”

Evan’s grin widened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The fight began in an instant. Evan moved faster than Vardy had expected, his sword flashing as it struck toward him. Vardy barely raised his staff in time to block, the force of the blow sent him stumbling back.

“Come on, Dud,” Evan taunted, his voice mocking. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Ferah lunged at him, her sword slicing through the air. Evan dodged with ease, his movements were precise.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, spinning around her and aiming a kick at her back.

Tracy thrust her spear at him, but he caught it mid-way, twisting it out of her grip and tossing it aside.

“This is disappointing,” Evan said, his grin never faltering.

Vardy’s undead minions surged forward, their hollow eyes glowing. Evan’s expression darkened slightly as he turned to face them.

“Ah, the infamous undead,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Let’s see how they fare.”

He moved like a blur, cutting through the first minion with a single strike. The second lunged at him, its claws outstretched, but he sidestepped and drove his sword through its chest.

Vardy watched, his mind racing. Evan was too fast, too skilled. They needed a strategy.

“Luthor,” he barked. “Get behind him. Ferah, keep him busy.”

Luthor hesitated for a moment before nodding and slipping into the shadows. Ferah charged at Evan again, her attacks relentless.

Evan blocked her strikes effortlessly, his grin growing wider. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. But it’s not enough.”

Vardy raised his staff, summoning a burst of dark energy. The blast struck the ground near Evan, forcing him to leap back.

“Finally,” Evan said, his eyes narrowing. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to fight.”