A Thief's Shadow

Shifting Pieces

The monotonous chatter of winter rain was suddenly interrupted by a new voice. The clatter of countless boots. The thief opened one eye the color of snow and smiled; apparently he had chosen to pull down the scarf that covered the lower half of his face. He made no motion to move. The stampede of knights gathered around his cell and Cal stepped forward with the key. Every single one of the knights was elite, with only the General missing. He would probably join them later. It was clear that Cal was trying not to smile, but his efforts looked very strange. He snapped on a new pair of handcuffs, this one with only half a foot of chain, and led the prisoner into the center of the parade. The thief smiled and fell forward. Without hesitation two knights stepped forward and caught him. They didn't know it, but they were his servants.

Those two knights drug him up the stairs as he continued to let his legs go limp. Cal did some sign language of his own for once. The prisoner smirked and shook his head. The whipping hadn't hurt anything that would disable his legs. He made a few motions with his hands, his legs still dragging up the steps. Laziness is bliss.

At the head of the snake, the general waited. His face had taken on the tomato tinge that always came before an outburst. "Why are you dragging him? If he won't walk we hit him until he stands. He's capable of walking. We can't afford to waste time!"

The thief pouted. Can I have a piggy back ride? Cal happily translated. It was fun having his mouth visible; now his expressions at least could be known. It would be much easier to mock those around him. He would have to be careful.

The General moved forward as if to kick him, and then stopped. Nobody knew what to expect from him. They feared him. It felt good to be feared by a man who everyone else feared. Let them be wary. The massive man let his hands turn into fists. "If you don't walk now, expect to walk the entire journey up the mountain. Bring him." He spun and walked away. Too important to escort a prisoner. The others began to drag him once again. Walking behind horses had dangers which he didn't like. Such as horse dung. He picked up his legs and pulled the slower knights up to the new pace.

The sight of sunlight was a shock to his eyes. He'd become a bat after a week in the dungeons. When the light hit his eyes he immediately closed them. He could walk with his eyes closed; he was surrounded by his own seeing-eye knights. Boots crunched on freshly made snow and hooves shuffled nervously. Horses didn't like him. Pulling the many coats around him, he opened one eye. They'd adjusted enough. He opened both. The entire grand courtyard had been turned into a cake with white frosting. It was very cold. Many soldiers stood by their horses, already packed and ready to go. The King sat high on his own extravagantly decorated white horse. If someone were to assassinate him outside of the palace, their job would be easy.

The elite knights led him to his own horse and he leapt up. It was going to be amazing not having to share for once. Getting on wasn't easy to do with handcuffs, but he wouldn't be accepting help from anyone. As the others closed in around him once again, this time on their own horses, he slouched forward and rested his head on top of the horse's. They'd given him the outcast of the horses – a chubby horse. No doubt it was strong enough to keep up, otherwise they wouldn't have brought it, but it wasn't physically appealing. It was comfortable, however. No boniness and a semi-squishy head. A perfect pillow.

"Prisoner! Sit up straight. You will be on your best behavior in the King's presence." The General glared in his direction. He didn't bother moving. To his surprise, the General acted. A piercing pain ran up his back as something hit it. It took all of his will not to react. He slowly sat up as straight as possible and looked the General straight in the eye. No looking up necessary. The General didn't dare say anything.

Several onlookers did notice the rarity, someone who matched the General in height, but the King remained his oblivious self. "This journey should only take two days, and any who cannot keep up will be left behind. Everyone will follow each and every one of the General's commands, or else we may not be successful in our mission. Is that clear?" He was basically telling everyone to listen to the General. The issue with inherited kingship was that very few of those who followed in their father's footsteps actually lived up to the legacy of the ruler before them, which meant they got worse with each generation. He almost felt bad for the untrained king, but the man was too greedy to feel pity for.

The long march began, and within an hour he was resting his head on the horse's soft head once again. The General glared at him but said nothing, the thought of someone reaching his own vast height was most likely still dancing in the corner of his mind. The ease in which one could strip away another's pride would never cease to amaze him. The prisoner allowed himself to focus on the lull of the hoof beats and fell completely asleep within minutes.

"Dismount!" The scream came from right beside his ear, sending vibrations through his ear. He kept his expression still before opening one eye and yawning into the face of his beet-faced aggravator. The thief stretched his arms out before him, cracking each joint in his fingers with meticulous care, and then swung down from the scraggly horse.

The General's scream had attracted many stares from the soldiers around them, only a few were elite knights like Cal, but only half appeared amused by the prisoner's carelessness. The others reminded him of dolls with their eyes painted just a little too wide, changing their faces from an expression of happiness to one of terror. He didn't consider himself all that terrifying, but if they chose to believe so that was their own decision to make. He turned his attention from the fearful dolls to the sky and yawned again. Stars glittered along the dark blanket in their usual, randomly thrown arrangement. So that was why they had stopped.

"Cal! Tie him to a horse by the fire. There will be no food for those who aren't even willing to stay awake to lead their own horse." The General sneered at the slouching prisoner, but they both knew that he had made no victory with his unfair punishment. Between the warm embrace of the fire and a quiet stomach, he would choose the fire every time. They were halfway up a mountain that was tipped in snow even in the summer, so falling asleep without a fire inevitably led to death. Death was something he was going to wait until he was older to face. Much older.

The camp was a bustle of activity as one hundred or more soldiers went about setting up tents and catching and cooking food for both themselves and the ever-important King. In the center of it all, the former-thief remained as still as the frigid air as he stared into the fire with silver, unblinking eyes. He eventually allowed them to close, remaining in his upright position. It was going to be a very, very long night.

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