The Ogre's Pendant & The Rat in the Pit

Wurhi leapt back.

Whoosh!

The bronze mace swept the air just before her nose. She skittered backward. The priest rushed to the right, placing himself between her and the door.

The Zabyallan cursed. “Let me be.”

A voice like scratching glass answered her. “Leave the jewel, and go.”

“The jewel?” Her scowl deepened. “You’re no priest!”

His large, grey eyes narrowed. There was a coldness to them. Like a falcon’s. “Doesn’t matter who I am. I’ll crack you good in the head and leave you for the guar-”

She ran the hell away.

A curse hissed behind her as she sprinted through the double doors and onto the balcony, throwing the jewel’s chain around her neck. A leap carried her onto the rail and toward the wall of the manor.

She caught the nearest window sill. The thief scaled the building, her flexible fingers finding cracks and holds in the cold stones. Scrambling onto the roof through swirling snow, she gained her footing and spun to peer over the side.

The balcony lay empty below.

Whishwhishwhishwhish!

She flew back. Another set of bolas spun through the air where she’d been.

The man in priest’s garment was already on the roof and rushing toward her. Wurhi scrambled to gain her feet, but lost balance on the snow-slicked stone.

The mace came down.

She rolled.

Crack.

The bronze head crashed against the roof.

Snow kicked up. Wurhi tumbled toward the edge with lungs stinging from the cold. Her hands clutched at the shingles, skin chafing as stone raked her palms.

She slid to a stop before the edge and leapt to her feet in liquid agility.

Her eyes met those of the man in black.

Both gazes lowered toward the ruby; it glittered, unmarred by the scuffle. Dual sighs of relief swept over the rooftop. Two sets of eyes met each other once more.

Wurhi bolted, her feet struggling for purchase.

The man cursed behind her. “Stop running, Zabyallan. You don’t know how to move in snow.”

She startled and whirled as she reached the peak. Slowly, she backed away, her eyes searching for a route to the ground. “How do you know where I come from?”

He gave a low, guttural laugh. “You think Wurhi the Rat enters my city and all the thieves of Laexondael don’t know? Drop the gem and I’ll let you go.”

He stepped onto the peak, stalking toward her.

Her mind raced.

She wished to all the gods that Kyembe had come.

The man moved as surely as a cat gliding over flat earth, while the snow and slick stones betrayed her footing with every step. He perched in a half-crouch much like a…

Wurhi’s eyes widened. “Hawk!” She jabbed a finger toward him. “Merrick the Hawk! I’ve heard of you, even in Zabyalla!”

He slowed a half step, but did not answer.

She snarled viciously, trying to keep fear from her face. “I know you now! You walk away! Quick! Quick!”

“Not going to happen.”

She backed further away. “If you knew I came to this city, then you know who I’m bonded with.” Her grin turned sharper. “You ever heard of ‘The Spirit Killer’? ‘The Solidblade Knight’?”

He snorted. “No saint’s gonna come for a thief over a jewel.”

“Maybe,” she gave a languid shrug, trying her best to imitate Kyembe’s easy confidence. “You so sure about the Spirit Killer? I once saw him gut a man like a slaughtered pig. That man was three times your size.”

The Hawk slowed. His cold, raptor-like eyes narrowed. “That was stupid of you to tell me that. Now I can’t let you go.”

Her heart jumped. “He’ll come looking for me…then you.”

Merrick gave a scraping chuckle. “Maybe. But I’d bet my salt I’d have a hell of a lot easier time hiding in my city than he would searching me out.”

His body tensed.

Wurhi’s eyes searched desperately for escape.

They spied a tree growing near the manor.

“Thieves!”

The Rat and the Hawk whirled.

Black clad warriors rushed toward the manor along the front path, some whipping slings above their bronze helms.

“Shit! Shit!” Wurhi cried.

Whooshwhooshwhooshwhoosh!

Both thieves reacted in a blink.

The Hawk kicked his legs back, sliding down and catching himself on the roof in one fluid motion. Flying stones sailed over his head or sunk in the snow as he used the roof for cover.

Wurhi lost her footing on the unfriendly terrain. Her arms wheeled.

Whoosh! Crack!

A stone glanced off her shoulder, sending an explosion of pain through it. She screamed. Her body hit the roof and slid. Desperately, she tried to gain her bearings. Her hands clawed at the stones.

The edge rapidly approached. She glimpsed the tree again.

Its branches were close.

She rolled toward it.

Whoosh.

Her body was airborne. The wind roared in her ears.

In an act of inhuman agility, she flipped in mid-fall. Her hand reached out frantically.

Creak!

Her fingers caught a branch. The full weight of her body jerked violently against her arm. She yelped. The branch slipped through her fingers.

She hit the snow.

Thump.

The world spun. Pain writhed through her. Utter fear forced her to her feet.

The thief broke for the wall at a sprint.

Ahead, the lovers burst from the maze, their spears glinting. “Stop!” the woman cried.

Wurhi turned, keeping her face wrapping pulled high and stuffing the jewel down the front of her shirt. She winced at its chill against her sweaty skin.

Crnch. Crnch. Crnch.

They closed on her.

A leap shot her partway up the wall. She clutched the stones, gritting her teeth as her body screamed against the movement. The guard’s running footsteps grew louder behind her. She forced her arms to haul her body up. Blood hammered in her ears. Her breath rasped. Sweat stung her eyes. In what seemed like all of eternity, she cleared the wall and slid onto the street.

Cries erupted from the estate. She ran.

Fur-wrapped heads swivelled toward her as she tore through crowds. Her breath grew more ragged as her heart screamed. There was no reckoning of how long she ran. Her flight was a blurred chaos of turns and alleyways until, finally, the buildings around grew unfamiliar.

Only then did she duck into a deserted alley.

Her body barely supported itself with a shaking hand pressed to a wall. The cold raked her face and burned her lungs. Her ears throbbed. Her free hand trembled from exertion.

The pain came as her fear abated.

Cringing, she turned, sliding down the wall. Her backside sunk into the snow.

Wurhi the Rat made account of her injuries: one shoulder swelled and the other arm felt like an elephant had tried to rip it from her body. One of her knees ached badly and her ankle burned. Bruising mostly. A lot of bruising. Maybe a sprain or two. All in all, it could have been far worse.

And in return for her trouble…

She drew the ruby from her clothing, her eyes glinting at its shine.

“Not a scratch…” she whispered, turning it over. Chuckling, she slipped it back into her clothes. Close and safe she would keep it, until they went to some other city. Only then would she barter it for a king’s ransom in coin. Her mind swam at the possibilities.

Yet, her victorious spirits were short-lived.

The Hawk knew who she was. Likely, he knew where she was staying. One word from him would have the guards marching to Paradise. Or, he could slip in one night while she slept and-

She shuddered.

This couldn’t be allowed to stand. It’d be as if she lived with a sharp knife to her neck. Yet, what could be done? Leaving the city would be madness. The snows lay heavy on the old Tigrisian highways and any smaller paths would be worse. The rivers were frozen as well. She chewed her lip.

Wurhi grimaced. There was only one thing for it.

First, she would need to find an apothecary to balm her wounds and slow the swelling. Then, she would need to hide somewhere until night fell; it would be too suspicious to go back to the wine house so soon after the theft. Especially with obvious injuries.

And then?

Her grimace deepened.

She would need to tell Kyembe, and she doubted that he would be pleased.

Groaning, the Zabyallan thief rose and limped toward the end of the alley.

Fear dogged her steps.