Pheedra's first mission

By Fippy

It was a hot and sticky night in Freeport. Pheedra slipped back into the shadows, squirming into the tiny gap behind a statue that stood against the wall of the hallway. The voices of the guards came suddenly louder as they rounded the corner behind her. She squinted to reduce the white of her eyes in the near darkness. Moments before they came alongside her, she realized that her arm extended a shadow beyond that of the statue. Silently she drew it in.

The guards passed by, their conversation never halting. Pheedra noted with trepidation the long swords they wore, as well as the 5 foot halberds they carried. When they turned the far corner, she slid out from her hiding place, glanced both ways and ran to the corner, her soft-soled shoes silent on the faded carpet. Effortlessly, she hugged one darkened wall and slipped behind another statue right in the corner.

She controlled her breathing in the way she had been taught, and nervously watched the guards. Now came the tricky part; the moment of truth that she had spent weeks lining the pockets of household staff for information; not to mention the full hour it had taken her to penetrate the merchant's house so far.

She watched the guards. A short distance ahead they would turn to the left and relieve the two guards posted there. In the precise moment that all their backs were turned, she could slip past and reach her destination. For a fleeting moment she would be in the full light – the most dangerous part of her mission. Once past, the inviting shadows would protect her whilst she picked the double lock and slipped inside to claim her reward.

Almost time. She checked all the tiny leather ties that kept her knives and tools from clanging together, checked the laces on her shoes – to trip would be a disaster – and began to inch along the wall, as far as she could within the shadows.

Now! She ran low and silently across the lantern-lit chamber in which the men stood, her feet instinctively finding the least worn parts of the carpet that would make the least noise. She didn't look at the men, but kept her focus on the darkness of the hallway ahead.

Was that something moving in the shadows? A hidden guard perhaps? Fighting panic, Pheedra darted on and slipped to a crouch at the dead-end of the hallway, becoming invisible in the blackness.

She was alone. The guards had not seen her. Allowing herself a smirk, she turned her attention to the door, and reached for her picks.

It was already open a tiny amount. Curious. Not one to question good fortune she hurried through the gap in the door into the dark bedchamber beyond – and crashed headlong into someone lurking just beyond the door.

“Oof”, came a surprised voice. They both tumbled to the ground with a clatter.

Pheedra jumped agilely to her feet. The man somehow got there before her, despite having been underneath her. She looked at him in admiration. Well he wasn't a guard, but who was he? Their eyes met, his registering anger and surprise.

“Who 'dere?” came the challenge from outside the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of running guards.

The man sprung backwards. “Behind the door,” he hissed. “Now!”

She swung around and placed her back to the wall behind the door. He had done likewise on the other side, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“Who ever' in 'dere, come out now!” called a guard gruffly.

“I'll fetch Mub,” came another voice.

“You will not!” came the first. “I aint gonna hear him whine about us running for 'is 'elp every minute of the day.”

Whilst the guards argued outside the door, the two rogues eyed each other. Pheedra judged him to be a few years older than her and very good looking. His body looked athletically powerful under his muted brown and green clothing. His expression had turned to amusement, as he looked her up and down. She tried to look more experienced and confident, but was sure her age betrayed her. Indeed that seemed to amuse him more.

The door latch rattled. In an instant, the other rogue unsheathed his dirk. Its blade glinted maliciously in the moonlight coming in the open window. With some hesitation she drew her knife.

The door opened a crack. They both readied themselves. The next thing Pheedra knew, the door was smashed back on its hinges, crashing into her body. The air was knocked out of her, forcing her to her knees.

“Yaar!” came a gruff shout from behind the door, and the sound of sword upon sword.

Regaining her second wind with a gasp, she got to her feet amidst the din of an ensuing sword fight. When she peered cautiously around the door, she saw two guards mercilessly beating the rogue into a corner. His right sleeve was torn and covered in thick, dark liquid, and he did his best to protect it, slashing his dirk this way and that.

She stood knife in hand, heart beating furiously and torn between running and doing something to help. But what? The rogue was making some kind of nodding gesture at her. What did that mean?

“Kill him!” the rogue shouted at last, and gave further ground to the accomplished swordplay of the guards. His back was against the stone corner now. Trapped. “Now, Girl!”

One guard swiveled about, almost in her face. The other half turned. It was enough for him to take his eye off the rogue's blade. She saw the tip of the dirk emerge through the center of his back, dark red.

Pheedra hesitated. The guard facing her also hesitated, surprised to see her. She watched his mouth curl into a mean snarl and he took a step toward her. Unparalyzed, she darted forward and stabbed her long knife right through his throat. Hot blood covered her. She sidestepped the falling guard and retched over his corpse.

The rogue was grabbing her by the arm. “Thanks, girl. Now let's get what we came for and leave. Move!” The metal banging of an alarm began to sound from deep within the house.

He sheathed his dirk, expertly swept the jewels from the bedside drawers into a sack and was at the window before she had barely stopped gagging from the blood and corpses.

“The first kill is the hardest,” he said in a gentler tone. “It gets easier – regrettably. Now help me tie this.”

He slung a rope around a leg of the heavy canopy bed and threw it from the window, straight out. Pheedra came to the window and saw a man atop a wall across the alley catch the rope and secure it. The rogue fastened the loot sack to his belt, tied a leather hanger around the rope and pushed her toward the window ledge. “Slide down this.”

She stepped up, grasped it with both hands and with the alarm as motivation, slid down and across the alley to the arms of the waiting man. Moments later the rogue followed, one handed, as blood still oozed from his wounded arm.

Then they were away on foot, the three of them darting from shadow to shadow until they came to an alley within sight of the East Gate. The rogue turned to Pheedra and smiled. “Thank you for saving my life. It was my fortune that you had the same plan as me tonight. Though not,” he added, “as carefully thought out as mine.” He gestured to his accomplice. “Now I bid you farewell and good fortune.” He turned away.

“Wait,” Pheedra said. “Is that it? Don't I get a share of the takings? I saved your life, you just said.”

“Aye, and I am grateful. I said that too. But alas my girl, this loot is all mine. Good eve.” He set off at a trot with his accomplice.

“That's not fair!” she shouted after him

“No. It isn't,” came his reply from the end of the alley. “Life isn't fair. A lesson you must learn if you wish to be a successful rogue.”

He vanished into the dark streets of Freeport, and so ended Pheedra's first real mission.

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