"Ashes and crypts! What does it take to lose this guy?"
Bloodeye did not answer. He was too busy scanning rooftops for a good vantage point. Sting looked over at his partner and vehemently shook his head no.
"It's not about to happen, Blood. The patrol, fine. Even one of the soldiers. I can do that. But he's one of them."
"So."
"So? So I kill him and he puts a hex on me. Or worse, I miss and only give him a scratch. Then he's mad and bloody burns me to a cinder. You too unless he's got no brains."
"You don't miss. And he can't put a hex on you if he's dead."
"So now you're the expert on witches? How do you know what they can do?"
Bloodeye didn't bother replying. He had found his perch and was busy making his way to it. For all his protests Sting was right behind him. The two had worked as a team for nearly three years now. Bloodeye was a master at close up fighting of any type and Sting was the deadliest man in all of Gaol with a short bow. When someone saw Sting for the first time, they usually made the mistake of underestimating him. He was scrawny for a seventeen year old. He would have been considered scrawny even if he were two years younger. In fact, Bloodeye, although he was barely fifteen, looked and acted the older of the two.
With the practiced confidence of two young thieves who knew their city well, the boys winded their way through the alleys of Artois. Turning one corner they reached what looked to be a dead end. Bloodeye jumped up onto a wooden crate and from there launched himself towards a window in the corner. Catching the sill with both hands he pulled himself up with a grunt enough to swing one leg over the wall that turned the alley into a dead end. He then pushed away from the building so that he was straddling the wall like one would a horse. As he raised himself up and then walked across the wall and up onto the roof on the far side, Sting slung the short bow across his back and began the same process behind him. When the two were both up on the roof, they began making their way from rooftop to rooftop with as much confidence and ease as most people do on the streets below.
Suddenly Bloodeye stopped and dropped turning his body so that his head was peaking over the ledge of the roof. Sting copied the motion coming up beside him. He didn't know what Bloodeye had seen but he didn't doubt for an instant the younger boy saw something. There was a reason he always took point. Bloodeye's ability to spot a target or a patrol looking in their direction was uncanny.
"There, near where we first entered the alley."
Sting grunted. The man who had been following them was at the entrance to the alley facing the street. There was a look of confusion on his face as he examined something he was holding in both hands. This late at night there was nobody else on the street.
"Do it."
Bloodeye spoke with such a voice of authority that Sting had his bow up and an arrow knocked before he knew what was happening. With his muttered wordless prayer the arrow was released with a thwang. Suddenly their tracker looked straight up. Muttering something, he reached up and grabbed the arrow out of the air just inches from his throat. Following its path back, the man spotted the heads of the two boys peering over the roof. Again he muttered something and then looked up and down the street as though trying to figure how to get up onto the roof.
Bloodeye's mind raced in the delirium of panic. He couldn't move. It was as if his body had instantly turned into a statue of stone. His mind could command but his arms and legs would not obey. His eyes could move in their sockets, but their lids would not even blink. Even if he were not claustrophobic it would be enough to send him into a frenzied state of insanity.
Both the thieves were too tied up in their own problems to notice the beautiful woman with a knife in her hand sneak up behind the man from the Society. They did not notice that knife come up and slash at his throat. They did not see the blood spill out of him, but they did feel the bonds holding them in place weaken more and more as his life ebbed away. Without looking down they both took off running as soon as they could. Neither of them noticed that the corpse of their enemy was being dragged out of the street and into the alley.
Fast as the wind the two ran as though their life depended on it. Rooftop to rooftop they soared making jumps and skirting ledges they normally wouldn't dream of risking had not fear given them wings. They had made a circle of nearly the entire district before coming back to a familiar rooftop. Still panicked Bloodeye grabbed one of the two ropes laying on the slightly tilted roof and jumped off the side of the old abandoned building. His momentum while holding the rope swung him down and into the open window of the attic that was their home. Before the younger man could move out of the way, Sting came crashing into him from behind. The impact sent both of them sprawling and for a minute both lay where they fell sucking in air.
From the far corner of the attic they heard a woman's voice, "Typical men. We do all the real work while you run around getting all winded doing nothing."
Before the shock of a stranger in their home even fully registered, Bloodeye had launched himself from laying on his belly into a crouch with a dagger in both hands. Sting's bow had fallen out of immediate reach and as he rolled from his back on to one knee he felt naked drawing his short sword instead. He could use the weapon with a fair amount of skill but it was his partner who was master of short work. Sting preferred to pick off his victims from a distance.
"Please boys, if I meant you harm I would have struck when you two oafs had crashed into each other. So lets say you put those toys away before you cut yourself, OK?"
Despite her bold words there was a definite touch of fear to the strange woman's voice. For a few deadly seconds nobody moved. Finally Bloodeye spoke,
"Sting, the light."
Sting smirked at how clever Bloodeye could be. The light would be an advantage to the two boys since anyone else in the room would have had longer for their eyes to adapt to the darkness. Beyond that, Sting's short bow was on the floor right below the mirror backed lamp. Bloodeye had almost put the thing in his hands without seeming to do so. After sheathing his sword, Sting, with his foot, brought the bow into his left hand while using a striker on the stone with his right.
When the lamp was lit both young men turned toward the tall, well endowed woman who was in turn ignoring them while examining their room. She had both her hands hidden inside a drab brown robe of an aesthete with the hood pulled so far forward that one could barely make out her nose, her full red lips, and a delicate chin behind it. After taking in the quality of the items in the now illuminated room, the strange lady spoke:
"Two feather mattresses, strikers and an oil lamp with mirrors among other things, and you're wearing solid though quite dirty boots and wielding some plain looking but very well made weapons. Though you try to hide it, it is apparent you two have done quite well for yourselves for a couple urchins."
Unfazed, with his shoulder leaning against the wall, Sting pulled an arrow from his quiver and knocked it.
"Lady, we ain't no urchins."
The lady shot back through clenched teeth, "And I'm no lady, street rat."
"Don't worry, that won't take the fun out of" "Enough banter," Bloodeye interrupted. "Who are you and why are you here."
"I'm here for the same reason the two of you are. This attic looked like a great place for someone who wants to stay hidden to make a home."
"How do we know she's not with him?"
Quick as either boy could blink, her hand threw the knife she'd held hidden in her robe at the ground.
"See the blood on that knife? That's from the throat of the man you couldn't kill." Looking right at Sting she continued, "You may think you're Hawk of the Titons come back from the dead but you're not worthy to even wipe the dust off his shoes. You couldn't even hit your mark from two hundred yards and it took a woman to finish off what you started. Thanks to me there's one less puke in the Society and you have a few months reprieve before they send a few more men to take you."
"What do you mean take me?"
"You speak magik."
Both boys laughed. Spike returned the arrow to its quiver and unstrung his bow while he said to their visitor, "Well miss 'I'm not a lady', I think you crawled into the wrong attic."
"There's only two reasons for a witch to leave their precious Tree. One is to manipulate kings and lords and the other is to kidnap and brainwash every poor fool with the spark. So, should I be kneeling to milord?"
With a touch of panic in his voice Sting replied, "Burns, woman. Bloody burn to ashes. Don't you think I'd know if I was a witch?"
"You've got some trick, don't you? You say something that makes you jump farther or keeps you from falling or perhaps," she said with a knowing smile, "to woo the ladies?"
"Your prayer." Bloodeye said turning from Sting to the woman, "his bow."
"Stuff it Blood."
Sting turned to stare out the attic window. With his profile silhouetted against the predawn grey of sky, the other two could see Sting shaking.
"There might be another way." This unwanted visitor offered, "I might be able to help you escape their clutches."
