Dawn sunlight woke me up early the next morning. Mist loomed on the earth, covering the distance between our feet and the great fortress. I was the first one to be up and standing, sword at the ready. I looked at the four men and two children still asleep on the damp earth, sighing. Despite my dislike of William after his treatment of me, I could not bear to see any of them injured, or worse. They would all likely sleep for several hours yet, plenty of time for me to steal way and return. Or, should I fail, to not return. I began to walk away from the camp, a leather satchel at my side for whatever item awaited me, a quiver and bow strapped to my back, my sword in hand. The sun had not risen much by the time I passed through the great stone arch of the abandoned fortress. Unease settled in my stomach as I did so. An eerie fog would not lift from the fortress grounds as I made my way through a rotting wooden door that hung unevenly off its hinges.
The treasury hall was not so difficult to find. I stopped in the entranceway, Arthurs warnings coming to mind. I picked up pieces of crumbled stone, throwing two of them across the floors of the hall. Surely enough, the stones were weighted. Cracking noises sounded, and arrows short from the side walls. I let out the breath I had been holding in, and took a cautious step forward.
The stone beneath my foot sunk down a few thumbs width, and I flung myself to the floor, just escaping the flames which erupted from the walls about my head. I could feel the heat on my back, uncomfortably hot, and lay there waiting for the flames to cease. When they did, I rose to my feet as quietly as I could, inspecting the stones. The mortar pattern was different on some, and I took care to avoid them. In several minutes I had reached the pedestal which stood in the centre of the nearly empty room. In the dished pedestal, a magnificently large dark blue stone sat, light glinting off of it. When I picked the stone up carefully, it's weight surprised me, for it was far lighter than I had anticipated. No sooner had I placed it in the leather satchel that a cracking sound echoed throughout the room. The floor began to shake and crumble, and I began to sprint across the disappearing floor towards the entrance. I crossed the arched entranceway just as the last of the floor fell to the catacombs below, and thought I was safe.
I did not realize I was wrong until the gargoyle on the wall shot an arrow through my right shoulder, the impact and pain causing me to crumple to my knees. A second arrow grazed my right flank as I fell. Gasping, I pushed my self up, but quickly stumbled back to my knees within a few steps. Giving in to the pain, I leaned against the walls of the stone corridor. My eyes rested on the arrow which had grazed me, taking in its features. The tip was harsh, and there would be no way to simply pull it out unless I wished to tear the inside of my flesh further. It would have to be pushed out the other end, something I most definitely was not looking forward too. The sun filtered through the glass, shining into my face. Arthur and the others would be awake soon, if they were not yet already. I tried to rise once more, but my wounds protested with all their might. I fell to the cold floor once more, my sword clanging against the stone.
The sun rose higher into the sky, and through the windows of the corridor, I could see several men approaching, the colours of Calber visible even from a distance. I refused to let Prince Arthur nor any of the knights see me fallen against a corridor wall, unable to stand, my blood staining the stone. Struggling, I rose to my feet, using the wall for support. The black arrow still protruded from my right shoulder, and blood soaked the right side of my tunic from both arrow wounds, but I was standing, my sword dangling weakly from my left hand. I stumbled out of the corridor and into the courtyard, making my way to the entrance of the fortress. I fell against the side of the entrance archway, the party of three warriors now in full view. After taking a moment to rest, I began to walk, with some difficulty, towards the warriors.
" Faye? Faye! We've been looking for you everywhere, what the bloody hell were you thinking, leaving camp without warning-" But Arthur cut himself off at the sight of me.
YOU ARE READING
The Prince's Thief
FantasyFaye, the daughter of the castle armorer, has grown up playing with swords and weaponry. Quick, nimble and light-footed, Faye finds herself fitting the description of the warrior the prince has issued be found for his quest. After all, a thief must...
