FelineEyes
Who Walks Through Walls
Does this shiny little beginning intrigue, or does it need more polish? (I mean for something other than grammar. I know that's wrong...)
Darshiek the Thief jiggled the bit of wire around in the lock and swore quietly when it got stuck. Cursed new safety locks. After a bit of struggling, he managed to yank the wire free. It scratched the shiny exterior of the lock on its way out.
“I hate leaving signs of my work,” Darshiek fumed. “Now I have to get this lock open or the ******* who owns this case this will be so proud his new lock system works so well. I can almost see the smirk on his slimy face!” Darshiek slammed his fist into the case in frustration. It made a loud booming noise and there was a ka-chunk when the lock hit the metal lip. Darshiek heart skipped a beat and he grabbed at the case to silence it. He hadn’t meant to hit it that hard.
The storeroom became very quiet. Darshiek crouched next to the case, listening as hard as he could. He had eluded three guards when he had come in and the family was sleeping just on the other side of the wall, but he couldn’t hear anybody raising any kind of alarm. Maybe they hadn’t heard the noise.
The door to the house creaked ever so slightly. Darshiek let go of the crate and crawled behind another one, hugging the wall near the window he had come in. Moonlight dripped through the latticed sliding panels, illuminating the little girl in the white nightgown that peeped through the crack of the door. “No one’s in here,” she whispered, not taking her eyes from the shadowy storeroom. She placed a dainty foot inside the door as she slowly pushed it open a little wider.
“No, no, sweetie, let me go first,” said a deep male voice behind her. “Just because you don’t see anyone, that doesn’t mean there is no one there. They could be hiding.” There was the sound of a sword sliding from its scabbard and a man ventured into the room.
Darshiek wedged himself further behind the crate. “Don’t find me,” he silently begged, “Please don’t find me.”
“I’ll start looking over here,” the little girl said, the soft pitter-patter of her feet coming closer to Darshiek. He dared not breathe. The edge of a nightgown peeped around the corner of the crate.
“NO! Come back here this instant!” the merchant snapped. The girl ran back to her father. “I’ll look,” he said, “I don’t want you to do anything.”
“But, father, I want to help,” she protested.
“If you want to help, run outside and go get the guards. Just be careful. Whoever was in this room could have prowlers outside.” The merchant knelt and looked at the case that Darshiek had been struggling with. “Someone tried to break into this box.”
“Really?” Darshiek thought sarcastically, “Do you think so?”
“Is that the box that has the grandma’s cure in it?” the little girl asked.
“Yes,” the merchant said, “this box has velvet in it that will make the money to buy grandma’s cure.”
“Is it magic?”
“No, but selling it will give us enough money to buy some magic.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His tone became doting. “And selling that cargo of spices in the harbor will make enough money to buy all of my girls new dresses and we’ll throw a big party when grandma gets better.” The merchant kissed his daughter and she laughed. “Now go get the guards and be careful.”
“Yes, daddy,” the little girl ran out.
The merchant sighed and sat down on the chest. “Come out, thief,” he said. “I know you’re still in the room.”
Darshiek didn’t move.
There was a child-like shriek from the other side of the door. The merchant dashed out of the room to find his daughter.
Darshiek made his way quickly to the chest. He wasn’t worried about the little girl—she probably just saw a rat. He began fiddling with the lock again. This time it opened with a click. He breathed a sigh of relief.
With one eye on the door, Darshiek opened the chest. Inside was a neatly folded swath of white velvet that was, as Darshiek discovered when he unfolded it, surprisingly short. “This must be pretty valuable stuff,” he thought. “Magical cures are expensive and this really isn’t much fabric.” He wrapped it around his throat and chest, stuffing it into his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way while he was making his escape.
Opening the window slowly and peering around the edge of the frame, Darshiek was surprised to find the yard empty of guards. The surprise immediately turned to suspicion. They could be in hiding in wait. Or they could they could have been summoned by the merchant to help him and his daughter—maybe the little girl was in real trouble.
“Ah well, too bad if that’s the case then,” Darshiek thought. “But how can I knew their location for certain?” He tapped his fingers against the windowsill, the calluses on them making soft pat, pat, pat noises. He wasn’t even thinking of panicking—he’d gotten out of tighter spots than this.
He could just try making a run for it and hope they couldn’t catch him…but that was chancy and the consequences of him getting caught with the stolen goods would most certainly be dire. The local law enforcement had wanted to get their hands on him for years and was quite ready to hang him if given the opportunity.
“Oh, how to do this, how to do this,” Darshiek rolled the thought around in his head for a while. While contemplating he glanced back behind him to check the door.
It turned out to be a very good idea. Darshiek spotted one guard halfway in the door, his sword drawn and his eyes cautiously scanning the room.
Darshiek didn’t wait to lock eyes with the guard; he didn’t even wait to be sure if the guard saw him. He just swung in legs out the window, stood on the decorative railing that edged the house, and scooted along it in the same manner as he would have if taking a stroll in the park. He was at the drainpipe when the guard put his head out the window and yelled, “Stop thief!”
Darshiek shimmied down the drainpipe wondering, “Why do they always yell, “Stop thief!” Do they actually think I’m going to stop and say, “I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” You think these people would think before they opened their mouths.” He hopped off the drainpipe at the top of the first story, landing in the bushes that ringed the house. He bolted across the open yard and was halfway up the wall when the first arrow struck near Darshiek’s ear, ricocheting off the stone. Knowing there were more to follow, he tried to climb faster.
He made it over the wall and down the other side when the city guard came around the corner, brimming with swords and burning torches. As he sprinted down one street and over a low wall, Darshiek reminded himself that this was the easy part. He’d gotten away from these guards many times—he could do it again.
It took him a moment to decide which escape route he wanted to use and he soon took a sharp left.
There were a bevy of guards waiting for him.
He made a dash for a side alley, reworking his escape routes in his mind. If he kept going this way, he would soon reach the river. Considering his present treasure, slogging through the slimy river was not the path he wanted to take. He veered left again ducking under an elevated walkway and making a sharp turn right as soon a he was on the other side, hoping to throw them off a little. It didn’t work. The guards were almost in arm’s reach of Darshiek as he scrambled up the steep slope to the sidewalk.
Darshiek gave himself a little hop at the top of the slope to get him running on level ground again and took off toward the church. That was a good route to lose a group of guards on.
Unfortunately, six more guards blocked his path to the church and Darshiek was forced to change course again, this time heading down the street that led to the ocean.
“So these fellows think they’ve got me trapped,” he thought as he ran. “I hope they’re not right.”
Garruk, a sprawling city on the western edge of Suka’nyi, is slowly crumbling into the Dastian Sea. As false dawn rises over the crumbling cobblestone and dilapidated pigeon roosts, night rolls itself into day with the ease of a long practiced ritual.
Darshiek the Thief jiggled the bit of wire around in the lock and swore quietly when it got stuck. Cursed new safety locks. After a bit of struggling, he managed to yank the wire free. It scratched the shiny exterior of the lock on its way out.
“I hate leaving signs of my work,” Darshiek fumed. “Now I have to get this lock open or the ******* who owns this case this will be so proud his new lock system works so well. I can almost see the smirk on his slimy face!” Darshiek slammed his fist into the case in frustration. It made a loud booming noise and there was a ka-chunk when the lock hit the metal lip. Darshiek heart skipped a beat and he grabbed at the case to silence it. He hadn’t meant to hit it that hard.
The storeroom became very quiet. Darshiek crouched next to the case, listening as hard as he could. He had eluded three guards when he had come in and the family was sleeping just on the other side of the wall, but he couldn’t hear anybody raising any kind of alarm. Maybe they hadn’t heard the noise.
The door to the house creaked ever so slightly. Darshiek let go of the crate and crawled behind another one, hugging the wall near the window he had come in. Moonlight dripped through the latticed sliding panels, illuminating the little girl in the white nightgown that peeped through the crack of the door. “No one’s in here,” she whispered, not taking her eyes from the shadowy storeroom. She placed a dainty foot inside the door as she slowly pushed it open a little wider.
“No, no, sweetie, let me go first,” said a deep male voice behind her. “Just because you don’t see anyone, that doesn’t mean there is no one there. They could be hiding.” There was the sound of a sword sliding from its scabbard and a man ventured into the room.
Darshiek wedged himself further behind the crate. “Don’t find me,” he silently begged, “Please don’t find me.”
“I’ll start looking over here,” the little girl said, the soft pitter-patter of her feet coming closer to Darshiek. He dared not breathe. The edge of a nightgown peeped around the corner of the crate.
“NO! Come back here this instant!” the merchant snapped. The girl ran back to her father. “I’ll look,” he said, “I don’t want you to do anything.”
“But, father, I want to help,” she protested.
“If you want to help, run outside and go get the guards. Just be careful. Whoever was in this room could have prowlers outside.” The merchant knelt and looked at the case that Darshiek had been struggling with. “Someone tried to break into this box.”
“Really?” Darshiek thought sarcastically, “Do you think so?”
“Is that the box that has the grandma’s cure in it?” the little girl asked.
“Yes,” the merchant said, “this box has velvet in it that will make the money to buy grandma’s cure.”
“Is it magic?”
“No, but selling it will give us enough money to buy some magic.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His tone became doting. “And selling that cargo of spices in the harbor will make enough money to buy all of my girls new dresses and we’ll throw a big party when grandma gets better.” The merchant kissed his daughter and she laughed. “Now go get the guards and be careful.”
“Yes, daddy,” the little girl ran out.
The merchant sighed and sat down on the chest. “Come out, thief,” he said. “I know you’re still in the room.”
Darshiek didn’t move.
There was a child-like shriek from the other side of the door. The merchant dashed out of the room to find his daughter.
Darshiek made his way quickly to the chest. He wasn’t worried about the little girl—she probably just saw a rat. He began fiddling with the lock again. This time it opened with a click. He breathed a sigh of relief.
With one eye on the door, Darshiek opened the chest. Inside was a neatly folded swath of white velvet that was, as Darshiek discovered when he unfolded it, surprisingly short. “This must be pretty valuable stuff,” he thought. “Magical cures are expensive and this really isn’t much fabric.” He wrapped it around his throat and chest, stuffing it into his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way while he was making his escape.
Opening the window slowly and peering around the edge of the frame, Darshiek was surprised to find the yard empty of guards. The surprise immediately turned to suspicion. They could be in hiding in wait. Or they could they could have been summoned by the merchant to help him and his daughter—maybe the little girl was in real trouble.
“Ah well, too bad if that’s the case then,” Darshiek thought. “But how can I knew their location for certain?” He tapped his fingers against the windowsill, the calluses on them making soft pat, pat, pat noises. He wasn’t even thinking of panicking—he’d gotten out of tighter spots than this.
He could just try making a run for it and hope they couldn’t catch him…but that was chancy and the consequences of him getting caught with the stolen goods would most certainly be dire. The local law enforcement had wanted to get their hands on him for years and was quite ready to hang him if given the opportunity.
“Oh, how to do this, how to do this,” Darshiek rolled the thought around in his head for a while. While contemplating he glanced back behind him to check the door.
It turned out to be a very good idea. Darshiek spotted one guard halfway in the door, his sword drawn and his eyes cautiously scanning the room.
Darshiek didn’t wait to lock eyes with the guard; he didn’t even wait to be sure if the guard saw him. He just swung in legs out the window, stood on the decorative railing that edged the house, and scooted along it in the same manner as he would have if taking a stroll in the park. He was at the drainpipe when the guard put his head out the window and yelled, “Stop thief!”
Darshiek shimmied down the drainpipe wondering, “Why do they always yell, “Stop thief!” Do they actually think I’m going to stop and say, “I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” You think these people would think before they opened their mouths.” He hopped off the drainpipe at the top of the first story, landing in the bushes that ringed the house. He bolted across the open yard and was halfway up the wall when the first arrow struck near Darshiek’s ear, ricocheting off the stone. Knowing there were more to follow, he tried to climb faster.
He made it over the wall and down the other side when the city guard came around the corner, brimming with swords and burning torches. As he sprinted down one street and over a low wall, Darshiek reminded himself that this was the easy part. He’d gotten away from these guards many times—he could do it again.
It took him a moment to decide which escape route he wanted to use and he soon took a sharp left.
There were a bevy of guards waiting for him.
He made a dash for a side alley, reworking his escape routes in his mind. If he kept going this way, he would soon reach the river. Considering his present treasure, slogging through the slimy river was not the path he wanted to take. He veered left again ducking under an elevated walkway and making a sharp turn right as soon a he was on the other side, hoping to throw them off a little. It didn’t work. The guards were almost in arm’s reach of Darshiek as he scrambled up the steep slope to the sidewalk.
Darshiek gave himself a little hop at the top of the slope to get him running on level ground again and took off toward the church. That was a good route to lose a group of guards on.
Unfortunately, six more guards blocked his path to the church and Darshiek was forced to change course again, this time heading down the street that led to the ocean.
“So these fellows think they’ve got me trapped,” he thought as he ran. “I hope they’re not right.”
Garruk, a sprawling city on the western edge of Suka’nyi, is slowly crumbling into the Dastian Sea. As false dawn rises over the crumbling cobblestone and dilapidated pigeon roosts, night rolls itself into day with the ease of a long practiced ritual.
