Thief

On an island called Clearhallow, home to a noble and fierce army called the Dragon Knights, a troubled prince sleeps in his room. His sleep is fitful, which causes concern for me, the thief currently attempting to rob him. If he were to wake, I might be too busy fleeing to get what I came for: a piece of paper lying on his desk, a map with something written on the back of it. To most people, this parchment is of little to no importance. To me, it holds the only clues I have seen about my people, which are long lost to a war against Ma'roog, a monster who leads the Rul Coilband Tribe. He has only gained more power since the destruction of my village nearly thirteen years ago when I was four years old. Since then, I had to abandon my village of Likenhallow, and I've been a wanderer traveling between islands ever since. Now that I'm seventeen, I'm considered a legal adult. I miss my home island of Tiendys, but I find myself drawn to one particular island more than others. It's called Zir'gez, a small, abandoned island in ruins where I go to cope with the loss of my family and the destruction of my village, which the Rul Coilband Tribe destroyed, but then the other tribe, the Dragon Knights, came along and stole the only thing I had left connecting me to my tribe and my village.

A week ago, the Dragon Knights were on their way back from visiting another island. Their dragons needed a break. They descended from the clouds on their fiery mounts to rest and landed on the island Zir'gez, where I had been living for the summer. They saw nothing wrong with taking a look around the island because it seemed to be abandoned. I stayed out of sight, closely observing them. They came across the ruins I was living in and stole the map-my map!

"No! Mother!" the prince yells as he sits upright in his bed, sweating.

I stand still, hoping that he'll go back to sleep before seeing me in the corner. No such luck. His eyes go wide, and the color drains from his face as he notices my blue eyes and a sliver of pale skin exposed through my black hooded mask.

"In-intruder! Guards!" the boy yells, as he moves to grab his battle-axe from beside him.

My knife lands in the wall right between two of his fingers, slicing his skin on the edges.

"Move, and this one goes in your throat," I threaten, holding up another knife.

The prince freezes.

"Good decision," I whisper.

I grab the map and run to the window.

"Hey lady, you can't have that," the prince says.

"Yeah? And who's going to stop me? Go cry to your mommy, little prince," I say.

A very large guard slams the door open, sword in hand, and calls out the prince's name, "Brezmard!"

"It's been fun, little prince. Don't steal my stuff again," I say, hopping out the window onto Nalrai, my dragon, who is waiting to catch me.

"We'll have pursuers. Get out of here," I say as I land on his back.

He takes off quickly. After a few flaps of his wings, I lay back and relax. After all, Nalrai is one of the fastest dragons in the world, outraced only by myths, as far as I can tell. I don't risk pulling the parchment out of the small sack I stuffed it in for fear the air would tear or blow it from my grip. I've almost committed all the symbols on the back of the map to memory over the years. It holds an ancient, dead language I’ve been teaching myself through books ever since I located a translation guide in my library five years ago. The problem is, although I can translate the words easily enough, they still don't make sense. It's like some sort of story or riddle... or part of one.

I hear an alarm bell going off in the village. As if that'll do any good. We're as good as gone already. After a few minutes, an unpleasant surprise rises up to meet me. A dragon and her rider appear right in front of us, pulling up from somewhere below.

"Halt, thief!" the female rider commands.

"How did you catch up with us," I yelp, drawing my sword.

"I took a shortcut," the dragon knight yells through the wind, pointing her sword at me.

"We flew in a straight line... there are no shortcuts," I say.

"I know this island, thief. There are no shortcuts, but there are air eddies. I can predict almost any air current and follow every fissure with my eyes closed. I know how to use your surroundings against you. Surrender," she demands.

"How about no?" I shout, slashing her arm with my blade as Nalrai rolls past her dragon, "Hmm. One against one? Home turf or not, I like those odds," I laugh.

"Really? What about one against a hundred?" she asks, right on Nalrai's tail, "All I have to do is stall you for a minute or so until my friends get here. I like those odds," she says.

"Get us out of here, Nalrai," I say.

"Unh-unh. I don't think so, she says, appearing in front of us again.

"Dive Nalrai! We can't blend in with the ocean so easily, but I'm willing to bet we can handle the waves and winds better than she can," I say.

"You sure that's a good idea? Prince Brezmard said you stole a map... on parchment. Last I checked, paper and water don't mix so well," the knight says with her dragon swooping past my head.

I duck to avoid her sword, then I shout back, "Waterproof sack! Maybe you should invest in one. It comes in handy."

Nalrai dives out of the clouds toward the ocean.

"Come on, Qombaryth," she says to her dragon, "Let's give this thief a hard time."

"Nalrai, when they get right behind us again, pull up. All we have to do is knock her off balance," I quietly tell my dragon while watching behind my shoulder, "Now!"

He spreads his wings wide, and I shove the butt of my sword into her chest hard, sending her tumbling off her beast, as she hangs desperately onto the strap of her saddle, with one arm bleeding profusely from the cut I got in earlier.

"And where do you think you're going?" the large guard from the prince's room asks, hovering above us on his equally larger dragon.

"Oh. Hey now... I wasn't trying to hurt anybody," I say to the guard. Then I whisper to Nalrai, "I think we can still outfly them. If not, I'll have to rely on my combat skills to get away."

The injured knight struggles but climbs back onto her dragon's saddle, assessing the injury on her arm. My grip tightens on my sword as I yell into the air, "Unless you want more people to get hurt, let me go," I warn.

"That's not how this works. You don't get to make threats," the guard says.

I raise my sword, but someone grabs me from behind, sticking a needle into my neck. I can feel some sort of drug in my bloodstream, slowing me down. It must be a sedative. As I glance over my shoulder, I can see that it's the girl who injected it. I can't believe it... beaten by an injured science geek. Maybe I'm not as tough as I thought.

"N-not fair," I say as the world goes darker.

< < < > > >

I wake with cuffs around my wrists and heavy iron chains hang from the dungeon's wall. My knees are on the ground, ankles cuffed tightly together, forcing me to kneel in front of the chief when he comes. I'm covered in a suit made from overlapping black dragon scales. They remove my matching mask and hood. When I started this mission, I had a single, long braid going down my back, past my shoulder blades that was tucked into my somewhat loose outfit, but now my blonde hair dangles annoyingly in my face. I try to blow it off, but it just falls back to where it was.

When did the braid fall out? I think to myself.

At this point, I'm almost tempted to chop it off the next chance I get. My attention goes to Nalrai. I can see him pacing in a cage. There are gnaw marks on the bars and burn marks on the ground around it.

"Who are you?" the prince asks calmly as he sharpens his ax.

"I'm nobody," I say.

"No, really. Where are you from, and what do you want with my map?" he asks.

"Your map? It’s my map! You stole it from me!" I say.

"Itss a map of Clearhallow. Where are you from? Clearhallow?"

I drop my head and say nothing.

"You must be. You have hardly any accent, and I saw no evidence of anyone currently living in the abandoned ruins of Zir'gez. So, you live on that island we found it on? Or were you just visiting? Or are you from Clearhallow?"

"Me? From Clearhallow? News to me," I say.

"No? You must be from somewhere. Did you just spawn from the sky?"

He smirks sarcastically as a smile tugs at his lips.

"You think this is funny?" I ask angrily.

"My apologies. This should be a very serious matter. You broke into my room and stole my map-with potentially dangerous information on it. You injured me and one of my knights. I need to know where you are from, so we can properly punish you," he says, with seriousness returning to his face.

"But I'm not from anywhere. I'm... a nomad, I guess you could say."

"There are no nomadic tribes left in the modern world," he says.

"No, I know that. It's just my dragon and I wandering. My village was destroyed when I was very young. He's kept me safe ever since, and we've lived wherever the food has taken us," I say.

"Destroyed? You're from a dead village?" he asks.

"Yes. As far as I know, we're the only ones that made it out alive, but I keep hoping that I'm wrong. I think the writing on the back of my map could be the key to learning if there was any evacuation point or safe place they could have fled to," I say.

"Then why is there a map of Clearhallow on it? My people have been here for hundreds of years. Your people couldn't have lived here," he says.

"I think the map is incomplete. The writing on the back doesn't make sense. There has to be more to it than just what's on that map. I assure you, it's harmless and has nothing to do with your village. I have no interest in your people. Now let me go," I say, annoyed.

"Who destroyed this village of yours?" he asks, examining his ax.

"A monster... the leader of the Rul Coilband," I say.

"Ma'roog?" he asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Hmm. You can't be much older than I am. Sixteen? Seventeen? And father never mentioned a northern village being destroyed in the last few decades. Did your village have a name? Was it close to here?" he asks.

"No, it wasn't near here. It's a journey of several days on a dragon, several weeks by ship. Look, I was barely old enough to speak when it was destroyed. All I want is to take my map and get off your island," I say.

"Did your people have any allies we could consult with?" he asks.

"Do I look like some sort of historian to you? I don't know! One of my earliest memories is of my father throwing me on Nalrai's back and telling him to keep me safe. I was four, okay? I don't remember."

"I'll have to consult with my father. I'm not sure if I believe you, but I'll see what I can do to get you released with nothing more than a warning. You hardly injured me. It'll be a matter of days before the wound heals. I believe a fine should be an adequate punishment for theft," he says.

"How are you going to fine me? I don't have any money," I say.

"We could flog you instead."

"You're going to flog me? That's my map. I haven't stolen anything. I don't see why I should be punished at all," I say.

“You said you could read what's on the back of the map?" he asks.

"Yeah. I found some old translation guide. Taught myself some sort of ancient language or something."

"What does it say?" he asks.

"You think I'm an idiot, runt? Why would I tell you? As far as I'm concerned, anyone who locks me up in their dark, smelly dungeon is an enemy," I say.

"An enemy who holds power over your fate," he says.

The heavy prison doors open.

"Prince Brezmard, your father wishes to talk to you," the large knight from earlier says as he enters the dungeon.

I guess he's the prince's private guard or something. I surely do not envy the hours he must pull being the prince's personal babysitter.

The prince smirks again and says to the knight, "You know what Norkuz? I think I like her. She's as stubborn and hotheaded as I am."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," Norkuz says.

"And Norkuz, guess what else? You're not the only one who calls me 'runt' anymore," the prince says, heading toward the exit.

"I see," the knight says, sounding more tired than interested.

Hmm... I think to myself, Figuring out how often they change shifts might be useful if I have to escape and attempt to get my map back again.

"Nalrai," I say after they leave, "Are you okay?"

He snorts, frustrated, then he gnaws on the bars of the cage. Nalrai is definitely not cut out to be a jailbird.

"I hear you Nalrai. I can't feel my arms, which makes escaping harder. That is, if I could escape in the first place. Never tried it before," I say, glaring at the chains going from my wrists and ankles up into the wall.

"I have a headache," I continue, "I think it's from that sedative they gave me. How long do you think they're going to keep us here?"

Nalrai huffs, puffs, lies down and curls up.

"Not very optimistic today, are you?" I tease.

I examine the chains as closely as I can. I wish I had experience with picking locks, but as it stands, I honestly don't have a clue how I'm supposed to get out of here.

"Okay Nalrai, I guess I'm with you. I hope the chief isn't too ticked off that I scraped his kid's fingers a little."