xDate: Fri, 14 Oct 2011 12:54:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: tyverius99@yahoo.ca
Subject: Knight Moves, Chapter 1

Disclaimer/Author's Notes

I am not a pedophile...honest.  I don't look at kids in real life and think
about them that way.  I find fictional stories, however, to be erotic and
exciting.  I've never been quite sure why.  Anyone who takes this or any
other story I write as license or encouragement to go out and sexually
molest a child, whether out of twisted desire or `love' should first
consider seeking psychiatric help.

That said, this story contains scenes of a sexual nature between underage
teens/pre-teens, male and female, and adults, male and female, as well as
with each other in gay and hetero pairings.  If you are not of age or it is
illegal to read this where you live...well, I can't stop you, but you will
live with the consequences if you're caught so you should consider going
back now.

This story also contains humour.  It has its serious periods, but it's
primarily meant to be something of a parody.  If you're looking for serious
fiction, this isn't for you.

For the rest of you, welcome to my first story on Nifty.  I've been poking
around the site for a long time now and finally got up the courage to write
something.  If I get reviews, I might consider writing more so if you like
this story, by all means, please send me an e-mail at tyverius99@yahoo.ca
and tell me what you thought, same if you have any recommendations for
stories (no promises) or suggestions that you feel might make my stories
better (also no promises).  Flames will be ignored and fed to my cat.

All characters and situations in this story are, of course, copyrighted to
me.  If you wish to reproduce them anywhere, please ask my permission, it's
quite likely that I'll say yes.  This story will have sex, and probably
plenty of it, but it's also going to have a lot of plot so the sex might
not come up right away and there will be breaks while other things happen.

So, without further ado...

Knight Moves

Chapter 1

It was a beautiful summer day.  The warm, gentle sunlight radiated off his
burnished emerald scales and the blue sky above seemed perfect for flying.
Yes, it was an excellent day to go in search of a princess, the older
dragons told Barisolex.  The young dragon listened politely to his elders,
nodded in agreement when they spoke, and then sighed as he slunk back
towards his cave.  "Bother all princesses...and all knights too, for that
matter," he grumbled to himself as he swatted one of his wings lightly
against the damp rock wall of his cavern home.  He was starting to outgrow
the place, he'd probably need to move into one of the vacant ones soon
enough.

No, he wasn't being fair.  He was sure there were probably some princesses
who were very NICE...for humans, of course.  It was just that the whole
abduction thing was a terrible bore and seemed to be all the older dragons
ever talked about.  "When I was your age, I kidnapped so-and-so...she
became empress of an entire desert, you know"; "Years ago, I kidnapped the
king's eldest daughter right out of the garden, with none the wiser, that's
how fast I was".  They just went on and on until you wanted to put your
claws in your ears to scrape your eardrums out.  That was how Barisolex
felt anyways, but then he was odd for a dragon.  Most of the other dragons
his age were always eager for such stories and were already preparing their
hordes.  Him?  He tried to avoid such talk and the only gold he'd gotten
close to lately was the light from the rising sun at dawn.

Gold was alright, he supposed, but it just didn't appeal to him.  Couldn't
he collect something else to lie on?  Like maybe featherbeds?  They
certainly looked a lot more comfortable, and perhaps if he got enough
mattresses together...no, the other dragons would laugh.  They always
laughed.

His instructors weren't much help either.  "Barisolex," they'd say, smoke
pluming from their nostrils, "You're never going to get your GED if you
don't straighten up and fly right."  Sure, becoming a Genuinely Empowered
Dragon was the dream of most of his peers, but it really wasn't something
he cared about all that much.

Or at least it hadn't been until they'd told him that unless he showed some
success, he'd be banished for life, prey for any noble lord who wanted a
feather in his cap.  That appealed to him even less than behaving like a
proper dragon did.  He liked his head very much where it was, thank you.
It probably wouldn't look all that good over someone's fireplace anyway.

Thus it was that he was given his assignment.  Trust the elders to pick the
most difficult one.  Treasure wasn't that hard to accumulate, really.  You
could find it just lying around most humans' homes in small amounts.
Magical power?  There were wizards who would deal with dragons, exchanging
knowledge and magic for a drop or two of blood or some shavings from a
talon.  A princess, though...they were always difficult.  Never mind that
they tended to be spoiled, egotistical, vain, and generally annoying; never
mind that they tended to be locked up tighter than the kingdom treasury;
the real problem was finding one.  It wasn't as though there were a lot of
them running around.  There were very specific requirements to become a
princess, after all.  Generally, you had to be the daughter of a king and
queen, and there weren't all that many of those either.

Barisolex groaned and put one paw over his face as he slumped to the cavern
floor.  Terrific.  Just terrific.  How was he supposed to find a princess?
Even if he found one, how was he supposed to kidnap her?  Even if he found
a princess, then kidnapped her, how was he supposed to survive her company?
What was he even supposed to do with her?  Presumably, some knight would
come by to rescue her eventually and there'd be a great dramatic battle
full of `have at thees' and `forsooths'.  The thought of dying was bad
enough, but what happened if he won?  What happened if he killed every
knight that came after him until they didn't send anymore, thus earning his
GED?  Would he have to eat the princess too?  Did he just let her go with a
few words of thanks for having lured her countrymen to a horrible death?
He really hoped he wouldn't have to eat anyone.  He'd tried nibbling on a
bit of human one of the older dragons had left behind once...it had given
him a terrible tummy ache for hours afterwards.

Well, there wasn't any point putting it off.  Maybe if he showed that he
had made a reasonable effort to find a princess and failed, the elders
would be understanding and give him another task to complete.  There was
always hope, after all.

Shaking himself from his self-imposed pity-party, Barisolex walked from his
comfortable cavern, casting a brief glance back at the home he would have
to leave for a time, and spread his wings, leaping into the air with a
mighty jump from his powerful rear legs.  His wings caught an updraft, and
off he went, wings beating mightily as he flew skyward, flying away from
the mountains he had called home and towards the human lands that he would
be exploring.  What an adventure this would be!

It was a pity that he hated adventure with a passion.

*

Felicia Rubizones Alcades, daughter of King Tristan and Queen Maria of
Erland, kicked a stone and resisted the urge to pout as she knelt down by
the riverbank.  Pouting, her governess had always told her, was terribly
unladylike and should be avoided at all possible unless it was certain to
get you something you wanted.  In this case, that wasn't likely.

Her father had, in fact, been very clear on the matter.  She was leaving
her native land to begin a lengthy engagement to Prince Strothmore of
Blackentour, a grim, miserable little kingdom with nothing to recommend it
except a great deal of empty space with no one living in it.  Having heard
about the land in question, she wasn't surprised no one lived there.  It
rained nearly every day, with thick clouds blanketing the sky constantly.
Some said that a previous king, a mighty sorcerer, had outlawed sunshine
throughout his lands in a fit of pique when it got into his eyes at a
tourney, causing him to be unhorsed in the first joust of the day.  Others
had chalked the defeat up to the king being a dreadful jouster, but no one
was quite sure.  Whatever the reason, the sun never shone in Blackentour,
and the populace was known to be a grim and serious lot.  Not only that,
but Prince Strothmore was old!  He had to be nearly thirty, and at eleven
years of age, that certainly sounded old to Felicia.

No one could argue that Felicia wasn't beautiful.  Her long, golden hair
was tied back in a braid while she travelled, but usually she let it fall
down past her shoulders in a wave.  She was pale of skin and not tanned by
the light of the harsh son as common women were, for like most nobles she
spent very little time outside.  Her skin was soft and supple, smooth to
the touch, for she had never worked a day in her life.  Her bright, blue
eyes sparkled with joy and excitement...well, at least most of the time.
At the moment, they were downcast and her pert little mouth was trying not
to fall into the aforementioned pout.

She wore one of her best dresses, a sky-blue one with lovely white lace
that all of her maids said set off the color of her eyes marvelously, and
she wore ladylike white slippers on each of her feet, so she had to be
careful not to step in any mud by the riverside.  It wouldn't do if she got
mud on her shoes, she'd be scolded for sure.  Likely, she would already be
in trouble when the grownups that comprised her escort woke and found that
she had gone wandering so early, and with no escort.  Still, she was
confident in her natural charms, and sure that a simple smile would likely
win them over and soften any sharp tongues among them.

Felicia sighed and laid out the blanket she was carrying on the soft grass,
laying back on it to look at the sky.  The sun was already up and soon the
rest of her escort would be rising from their sleep.  They weren't used to
rising early as she often did which gave her a few precious moments alone
with her thoughts.

She'd had a great deal of time to think about this on the two-week journey
from the capital that had taken place so far.  She didn't want to marry
Strothmore.  He wasn't bad-looking, she guessed, for someone so old, but
why did she have to get engaged now?  Why couldn't Strothmore come and live
with her in Erland, where the sun shone, if not always, at least some of
the time.  She rather liked the sunshine, she decided, and going without it
seemed a terrible fate now that she knew she was going to lose it.  There
had to be some way out of this.  Perhaps she would run away and join a band
of travelling gypsies.  There was always a band of travelling gypsies in
the bedtime stories she'd heard.  They'd teach her to sing and dance and
she'd travel all over with them until a handsome prince her own age fell in
love with her at first sight and carried her off to his castle to be his
queen.

Of course, she knew this was extremely unlikely.  She might be only eleven
years old, but she knew that fairytales were fairytales and reality was
reality.  More likely any band of gypsies she found would chase her off,
rob her, or sell her as a slave, and any prince who saw her dancing was
more likely to applaud her entertainment and go off home.  Having no real
knowledge of what went on between men and women, the thought of being taken
advantage of physically simply didn't occur to her.

No, there was no way to escape this miserable fate.  Her only hope was that
Strothmore would be kind and that she would grow to love him.  Her mother
had assured her that it did happen over time, so she had to believe that it
would happen to her as well.  She just wished she didn't have to go through
any of this.

As she lay there, trying to think of how to avoid marriage while part of
her quietly resigned herself, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to
drift off into her fairytale fantasy for a moment.  After all, what could
it hurt?  It was only for a little while.  It was then that she felt a
sudden chill, and opened her eyes to find that something was blocking out
the sun.  The something in question was large, green, and scaly with an
immense body, a serpentine neck, teeth as big as she was, and talons
clearly capable of rending armor as casually as she might swat a fly.

She was about to let out a shriek of surprise and terror when the dragon
bent forward and spoke in a surprisingly polite, if slightly rumbling,
tone.  "Pardon me, miss.  You haven't seen any princesses around here, have
you?"

A number of thoughts warred for attention within Felicia's brain.  Dragons
could talk?  Dragons could be polite?  What did he want with a princess
anyways?  The thought that reached her mouth first, however, turned out to
be "can't you tell I'm a princess?"  After saying this, she immediately
shut her mouth with a snap.  Oops.

The look on the dragon's face, however, made her little slip worth it.  His
eyes brightened and he looked, for a moment, like a dog who was happy to
see his master return home after a long (for a dog, this is any length of
time greater than ten minutes) absence.  "You are?  Really?  I
mean...aren't you a little...well...small for a princess?  I saw one once,
and she was a lot bigger than you are."

"Maybe I'm just younger."  It was hard to imagine a dragon being so
excitable, but his tail was practically wagging.  Felicia couldn't help but
relax.  Dragon or no, this one seemed awfully friendly.  Maybe she could
keep him as a pet.  The `it followed me home' excuse had worked when she'd
wanted a kitten, after all.  Of course...from the way the dragon was
looking at her curiously, it was entirely possible that it was having
similar thoughts about her.

"Oh, yes...of course, how silly of me.  I'm terribly sorry; it's just that
I've never actually met a human before.  You're really a-"

"Yes."

"Excellent!  Now, little princess, what is your name?"

Felicia gave her full name and even managed to get to her feet to give the
dragon a little bobbing curtsy which seemed to provoke the same reaction in
the dragon that a human might have watching an animal do an especially
clever and endearing trick.  "Well, then, my name is Barisolex, and I've
actually come looking for a princess."

Old tales Felicia had heard came back to her and she hesitated just a
moment.  "You're not going to eat me, are you?"

"Goodness, no!  I'm just going to carry you off.  You can come and stay
with me for a little while until some brave knight comes to rescue you.
I'm sure we can work something out then."  The dragon seemed horrified by
the idea of devouring her, something that raised him even further in her
opinion; any dragon that was shocked by the idea of eating a human,
particularly her, couldn't be all bad.

All the same..."I'm sorry, but I really shouldn't come with you.  Everyone
will be worried that you've flown off to eat me, and they'll all be very
upset."  In truth, Felicia was rather gentle by nature for the most part,
and the thought of her guards and servants weeping for her presumed loss
made her heart ache terribly.  Still, the crestfallen look of the dragon in
front of her was nearly as bad.  Then, a thought occurred to her.  "Wait,
you say you'll only keep me until I'm rescued.  Will that be long?"

"Probably not more than a few weeks," said Barisolex with a shrug.
"Knights are usually very quick to come riding along to the rescue where
princesses are concerned.  Not really sure why, but the elders all swear
it's true so it must be.  They're terribly wise, dragon elders."

The random thought that had been floating in Felicia's mind became the germ
of an idea and soon the thought occurred to her that being abducted by a
dragon might actually be the best thing that had ever happened to her.
"Alright, then, let's go."  This way, she wouldn't have to marry Prince
Strothmore.  Some handsome knight would defeat the dragon...the thought of
the knight actually killing this sweet dragon didn't actually occur to
her...and ask for her hand in marriage as a reward.  She didn't care if she
married some minor lord or landless knight.  Her father wouldn't allow her
husband to stay poor for long, and any man who would risk his life to
rescue her would surely make a good husband.  "How will you carry me?"

Barisolex looked thoughtful.  "You may ride on my back, little princess.
Cling to the ridges on my spine and I will try to fly low, I'm afraid that
if I were to hold you with my talons, I might injure you by mistake."

Felicia nodded and then paused thoughtfully.  "I really should scream," she
said after a moment.  "If I don't scream, they won't know what a dragon
carried me off and then no one will know they need to come rescue me."

"Quite right!  You are very clever aren't you," said Barisolex admiringly
and Felicia couldn't help but preen just a little under the dragon's
regard.  "Scream away, then.  Perhaps I should roar too, that will bring
them running."

Moments later at the camp up the hill where the princess's escort was just
starting to stir, Heads were turned in shock towards the terrible sounds
coming from downhill near the river.  Maids swooned and soldiers
frantically grabbed up weapons, not bothering to don armor as they rushed
downhill to seek out the source of the noise.

Upon their arrival on the scene, they stopped in horror at the sight before
their eyes.  Their beloved princess was upon the back of a great, terrible
dragon, screaming in obvious terror as the dragon flapped its mighty wings
and roared.  "Ha ha ha!  Foolish humans, I Barisolex the Mighty have
kidnapped your princess!  Send out your finest warriors to face me if
they've the courage!"

The dragon spat a gout of fire in the general direction of the soldiers.
It missed them and struck a nearby tree, setting it ablaze.  The only
casualties of the blast were a family of blue jays nesting in the tree's
branches who didn't manage to get out in time.  The dragon then leapt into
the air and took off, the princess still clinging onto the dragon's back
for dear life.

The soldiers stared, open-mouthed, and glanced at their useless blades
before one finally spoke.  "Bugger this.  Always knew I should have become
a farmer."

The other soldiers glanced at the brightly burning husk of what was once a
tree and nodded in agreement.

In the meantime, Felicia stopped screaming as soon as they were out of
earshot and let out a whoop of excitement.  Flying was fun!  She'd often
dreamed of flying, soaring over the palace and looking down at all the
people below her, but this was nothing like those dreams at all.

Barisolex swooped and dived, letting the air currents carry him along.  He
tried to fly fairly low for her sake, barely above the tops of the highest
trees.  He couldn't resist showing off just a little though as he heard the
princess laugh in delight.  He wasn't a great hoarder, he'd never faced a
knight in battle, and his first princess wasn't very big, but one thing he
could do was fly.  Thus, he turned, banked, and slowly rose as Felicia
encouraged him to fly a little higher.

"It's so beautiful," she said as he leveled off and flew straight, flying
in the direction of his mountain home.  "It must be marvelous to be able to
fly like this whenever you like."  She clung to his back and laid her cheek
against one of his ridges.  He felt her warmth against him and felt a surge
of pride for a different reason.  She may not be very large, but she was
still his first princess, and he would never forget this moment.  Wouldn't
the elders be surprised when he came home with her!

"You really must tell me all about where you live," the princess said with
a smile as she looked down at the ground below, watching herdsmen gasp and
point upwards, seeing the dragon fly over.  "I want to hear everything
about dragons, Bara-Baro-umm..."

Barisolex grinned as he flapped his wings.  "We've got a long flight home,
I'll be happy to tell you anything you like, princess...and please, call me
Barry."

"Only if you call me Felicia."

"It would be my pleasure, Felicia.  Let me know if you're getting tired and
we can stop to rest.  We should reach the mountains in about four days as
the dragon flies."  Even accounting for frequent stops for his young
passenger, he didn't think it would take longer than that.  "We can get to
know about each other as we go.  I'd love to hear about life as a princess.
Humans are such fascinating creatures."

No matter what came of this, Barisolex was sure that he had found a friend
today.  It was an odd-sounding friendship, a dragon and a princess.  Next
thing you knew, he'd be taking tea and biscuits with a knight or something
like that.  The thought was so silly he almost laughed.  This was the
beginning of something incredible, however.  He could feel it in his bones.

It didn't occur to him over the course of the long flight home, at least
not until they had nearly reached their destination, that the elders might
have a thing or two to say about this blossoming friendship.

*

It is said that some cities never sleep.  This is not entirely true as all
cities go through long periods of inactivity during the nighttime hours;
some cities do, however, doze fitfully and wake in the middle of the night
often.  Shar was one such city.

Founded three hundred years ago by a band of settlers travelling north from
their native land, Shar was supposed to be a tiny settlement where its
residence could pass their days in a rural paradise, far away from the
hedonism and wickedness of big city life.  Several years later, when
deposits of gold were discovered upriver from the town and the town
suddenly found itself experiencing a drastic increase in population, few
people truly complained.  By this point, those who had been protesting the
hedonism and wickedness of big city life had come to the realization that
life in the country was terribly dull.  A little hedonism and wickedness
was a welcome break from monotony.

They got their wish.  With the prospectors came traders, guardsmen, madams,
whores, thieves, politicians, and the worst of the lot, lawyers.  The
guardsmen and honest traders soon found themselves in a minority and for
more than a century, well after the gold had been mined up, Shar was one of
the most miserably crime-ridden cities in the land.  The previous
inhabitants and their descendants simply shook their heads, tsked
self-righteously, and waited until no one was looking to pop down to the
local tavern to get stinking drunk and gamble away their hard-earned wages.
Thus, the illusion was maintained.

Eventually, the town settled down.  The prospectors left; the traders
organized into guilds and merchant houses; the guardsmen formed a coherent,
publicly-funded city watch; the madams, whores, and thieves organized under
a shadow guild of their own to prevent the city watch from arresting the
lot of them; the politicians smiled, shook hands at public functions, and
genuinely claimed credit for everything; the lawyers were run out of town
by an angry mob.  No one missed them.

In time, while Shar's dirty past was never quite buried, it came to be
conveniently ignored and the city settled down to become the largest, most
profitable trading centre in the northern kingdoms.  It even had a king of
its own, Roderick III who spent most of his time hunting, dining, and
genuinely attending to kingly responsibilities and social occasions while
keeping out of the business of the common folk.  Most found this was an
excellent arrangement.  Someone had to do it, after all, and most people
were far too sensible to want anything to do with being king.

Oldtown was, as you might think, the oldest part of the city.  It was the
part first constructed by the settlers when they arrived, and the first
prospectors when they came seeking fortune.  The buildings were drab and
old, often built close-together as other districts certainly didn't want
bits of Oldtown leaking into more respectable neighborhoods and refused to
allow the district to expand.  Iron lampposts lined the streets, but they
were inconsistently spaced and only occasionally kept lit.  The lamplighter
guild refused to send any of its people down without an armed escort, and
most armed escorts had too much sense to go wandering about that particular
part of town at night unless they knew it very well indeed, including what
areas were safest and what areas were to be avoided at all cost.

With the buildings built so close, little sunlight crept through during
much of the day, making Oldtown look dark and foreboding even at the best
of times.  It was here that the worst of the whores, the ones no longer
beautiful enough to attract any but the most desperate, plied their trade.
Beggars, real and fraudulent, called out to passers-by for a few coins,
hands outstretched in supplication in case someone with a few coins and a
guilty conscience happened by.  Thieves skulked in the shadows, some with
violence on their mind, others simply seeking an unattended money pouch so
that they could afford to buy a cheap meat pie or two for dinner.

Cheap taverns, which often functioned as flophouses, brothels, and gambling
dens as well as serving their main function, sprung up all throughout the
district like mushrooms in nightsoil.  These were the places where much of
the district's illegal business was done.  If you wanted poison that would
kill an enemy swiftly, goods stolen from nearly anywhere in town, an
unusual bed-partner such as a boy or girl too young to usually be in such
professions, or any illicit substance known to man, these would be the
places to go.  Discreet inquiries could usually be made with bartenders for
a price, and such men were always happy to encourage more business by
knowing exactly where anything desired could be located, even were it not
immediately at hand.

It was a fairly typical Sharan evening in Oldtown.  The sun had sunk below
the horizon leaving no trace of its passing into the west and though the
streets were quiet, anyone looking out a window would see people still
moving about furtively.

Some stuck as close to lighted areas as they could; these were often the
pleasure-seekers, the careless ones who had come to Oldtown for a thrill,
enjoyed themselves thoroughly, but forgotten the time and found themselves
suddenly trapped in a place that was no longer hospitable, where every
shadow could conceal a knife and every half-seen movement meant the threat
of death.  Most of these would make it home alive, if not necessarily
uninjured, and count themselves lucky.  Some of these would have the sense
not to return, but not many.

Others walked through the shadows.  They were comfortable there, amidst the
lightless streets.  These streets were their homes, and they were the only
homes these people would likely ever know.  They knew them, for not knowing
them would have meant death a long time ago, and so they blended in,
walking mostly unseen amongst the trash strewn in the street, down an
endless maze of alleys and side-roads that would confuse and confound most
people.

Two of these shadows were smaller and slighter than many of the others
abroad that night, two boys full of adventure who had their own plans afoot
that they were only just putting into action.  Success would mean not only
bragging rights to their mates, but survival as they would be able to eat
for a long time to come.  Failure could mean death or worse, but they were
full of the fearlessness of youth and the thought that something terrible
might befall them had never truly entered their minds.

The two boys were both of an age, thirteen, though poor quality and low
quantity of food had them look a year or two younger than they actually
were.  Despite this handicap, both boy had lean muscles from exercise and
slipped from shadow to shadow with the ease of a great deal of practice.

At first glance, the two could have passed for brothers, perhaps even
twins, in the darkness.  They both had the same light-brown hair and as
they went to the same barber on the rare occasions when they had coin for
such frivolities as haircuts, their hair was cut in the same style; short,
but not too short so that their hair would stay out of the way and couldn't
be easily grabbed if they got into a fight, but not short enough to risk
damaging their pride in their boyish good looks.  They were even dressed
alike, in patched trousers and sleeveless vests that showed just a little
of their bare torsos, more when they moved.  They also wore bright blue
armbands marking them as Skyrunners, one of the local gangs of boys who
roamed these streets, free from the watching eyes of parents who often
couldn't care less where they'd been so long as they came home with money.

In brighter light with, perhaps, the aid of a bath to wash away some of the
dirt and dust from the streets that often covered them, it would be obvious
that there was no true family resemblance.  The first of the boys had a
sharper nose and piercing blue eyes that others would call `shrewd' or
`cunning'.  His name was Raly and he carried a small knife in one boot just
in case he had to defend himself.  He moved more gracefully even than his
fellow Skyrunner, and his mouth was slightly turned into a confident grin
that some would find highly endearing while others would doubtless find
annoying.

The second of the two had features that men with a fondness for young boys
might call `pretty'.  He had a button nose with a pert little mouth and
surprisingly thoughtful, intelligent hazel eyes.  He didn't go armed, and
likely wouldn't have known what to do with a blade if he had one, becoming
more of a threat to himself than anyone trying to hurt him.  His name was
Paul and he and Raly had been friends almost from the moment they'd taken
their first steps to exploring the streets, running into one another by
chance and striking up a friendship that had lasted through much of their
young lives.

It was Paul who spoke, glancing nervously about.  They were in Blackcap
territory now and the Blackcaps and the Skyrunners weren't on the best of
terms if they were caught here, the consequences, while not fatal, would
certainly be unpleasant and embarrassing for both them and the rest of
their gang once word of their failure got around.  "You sure this's the
best way ta go?  Why don't we `ead through Thornling stand?  Cavin likes
ya, thinks ya've got brass balls an' says he respects that.  He'd let us
pass if'n we gave him a reason."

"Lick that," said Raly with a snort.  "Cavin thinks I've got those brass
balls yer talkin' `bout `cause I pull this stuff.  If'n I start comin' ta
him an' askin' `oh please Mr. Cavin sir, can I pass through yer stand so's
I can avoid those scary Blackcaps' he'll start thinkin' I've turned
chicken, then he won't respect me no more.  I'd rather wind up some
Blackcap's bitchboy fer a night `r two `till Jed pays `em ta let me go.
`Sides, the Blackcaps ain't smart `nough nor fast `nough ta catch me an'
ye, right?"

Grinning, Raly patted Paul on the back to reassure his friend, giving the
other boy's shoulder a friendly squeeze.  "I ain't never bitched for
nobody, not gonna start now, alright?"

Paul nodded, somewhat relieved by his friend's confidence.  It was true
that Raly was something of a legend among the local gangs for having
remained at least partly virgin in a social grouping where most boys lost
their virginity by the time they were ten or eleven at the latest.  There
was a running bet among some of the gang leaders about what it would take
to get him bent over, but no one had collected yet.  That was very
different from Paul himself who had bitched on more than one occasion and
probably would again at some point.  That was the life he lived and he was
more-or-less at peace with it.

That said, it was one thing to bitch for your mates who were just wanting a
bit of fun and comfort, but another to be used by a gang of horny boys
eager to teach you a lesson for violating their territory and
none-too-careful about what state they left you in so long as you could
limp away after.  The thought both frightened and strangely excited Paul
though fear was more prevalent.  "You sure no one's seen us yet?"

"Positive: you worry too much" said Raly as he glanced around a corner and
motioned that the coast was clear.  "Just stay hush an' stick with me,
we'll be rich `fore the night's done.  The two boys darted across the road
and slipped into an alleyway that connected with the next street up.  They
waded casually through the garbage, not caring about the mess they were
making of their ragged shoes, really little more than scraps of cloth sewn
together and tied about their feet.  Real shoes were expensive, and neither
boy could afford such luxuries.

Raly's confidence was not unfounded.  The two saw neither hide nor hair of
the Blackcaps, or any of the area's other gangs either.  They moved from
shadow to shadow until they were safely away and as they reached the
lamppost that was mutually agreed to mark the edge of Blackcap territory,
Raly produced an extra light-blue armband from his pocket and tied it
around the lamppost with a grin.  "Just so the scabs know we was here,
right?" he said with a smirk.  Paul looked uncertain but didn't argue with
his friend.

Seeing his friend's disconcertion, Raly snorted.  "The Blackcaps can lick
me.  They're a bunch o' pansies, the lot o' them.  I'm not `fraid o' them,
and you shouldn't be neither.  Show a little spine, right?"

Raly patted Paul on the back and led the way from there in silence, if
anything more carefully than when they'd moved through Blackcap territory.
They were leaving Oldtown now, and while there was no such thing as a
curfew in Shar, the city watch would certainly be suspicious of two
raggedly-dressed boys sneaking around the finer areas of town in the middle
of the night.  They didn't have the coin to buy off any guards just now,
and a trip to the lockup was to be avoided by any means necessary.  The
watch was scarier to the two boys than other gangs any day, so even Raly
was subdued as they made their way down streets and over a bridge until
they stopped outside a high stone wall covered in ivy.  They had reached
their destination.

The house was old and grand, not as old as some of the houses in Oldtown of
course, but it was among the first houses built for the wealthier settlers
when the town first experienced its great economic boom.  Unlike the houses
in Oldtown, this grand manor bore the weight of its years like a too-old
beldame bore a complicated headpiece: with attempted dignity and great
discomfort.

The paint was peeling in some places and the gardens were substantially
overgrown with weeds.  It was not that the house was abandoned, or that the
current resident was poor, it was simply that he was wealthy enough, busy
enough, and just-plain-miserly enough that he didn't give a damn about the
appearance of his home.

The owner of the house was called Cornelius Bresselwan and he held the
title of First Magician to the Houses of Parliament.  He was relatively new
to Shar, having only moved there in the last five years, but he had proven
almost immediately to be a master of the magical arts and won the respect
and admiration of the local upper-class with his dignified manners and
fashionable dress.  He had purchased the old house but visited it only
regularly, dwelling in a newer and more fashionable residence outside the
city walls.  This particular house was used to house his workrooms,
laboratory, and magical research library, and it was for those things that
the two boys had come.

Now, most would argue that breaking into a house owned by a powerful wizard
would not be conducive to long life and good health.  Those people would
probably be right.  Wizards tend to be a little on the testy side where
their personal property is concerned, and are often none too forgiving of
those who would consider stealing from them.  The boys, however, were not
concerned.  They knew that the wizard himself was away at his country
estate, they'd paid the last of their coin to have him discreetly watched
so that warnings could be sent to them if he left his home.  As far as
magical traps and guardians went...well, that was why they had the map.

The map had been a truly impressive find.  The two boys had filched it from
a drunken messenger on his way to the thief-king himself two weeks ago
while the man lay face down in a puddle of drool in one of the many taverns
in Skyrunner territory.  The two had been in there collecting money for
Jed, the sort of protection money that all businesses hated paying but no
one dared refuse for fear that their business would suffer accidents.  It
had been Raly who had spotted the drunken man, and Paul who had recognized
him as one of the thief king's messengers.

It had taken them a few minutes of quiet discussion to decide to quietly
sneak up on the drunken man and steal the satchel he was carrying.  The
thief king always got the best of any criminal profits in town, so anything
going to him would likely be worth at least a small fortune, but he wasn't
said to look kindly on anyone foolhardy enough to steal from him.  There
was a certain irony in that, but neither boy had considered the irony as
Paul had distracted the barkeeper and the rest of the tavern by feigning
choking on a bit of gristle in his pie while Raly had snatched the contents
of the satchel and stowed them in his pants for safekeeping.

They'd been disappointed at first to find that the satchel contained no
coin.  Both had already been fantasizing about the things they might be
able to get with their newfound wealth, but when they realized they'd only
stolen a small scrap of parchment there was a great deal of cursing and
kicking of dust, particularly on Raly's part.  It had been Paul who had
convinced his friend not to throw the paper away and forget the whole
thing.  It had to be valuable, he had argued, or the thief king wouldn't
want it.

The two had taken the parchment out and examined it more carefully but been
unable to make heads or tails of it so they'd taken it to Jed, the
Skyrunner boss.  Jed had looked it over and contacted a few friends.  He
wasn't at all pleased that the two had stolen from the thief king, but
agreed not to discipline them if they could raid the house that the map
described and give the Skyrunners twice their usual cut.

Once they knew whose house it was, Raly had jumped at the chance.  Even
giving forty percent of what they took meant they would have a fortune
between the two of them.  It would be enough for them to move out of
Oldtown and maybe find apprenticeships elsewhere.  An apprenticeship to a
craft meant the chance at a better life than any gang member could hope for
no matter how much they stole, and had a much longer life expectancy
besides.

Raly figured that the wealth was worth the risk of being turned into a
frog.  Paul wasn't so sure, but wasn't about to let his friend go alone
into such danger, and so the two found themselves staring up at the house's
dirt-smeared windows.  Raly scratched his nose slightly and then grinned,
not bothering to be so quiet now.  There was no one around but them.
"We're gonna be rich, Paul.  First thing I'm gonna do is go eat until I
can't eat no more, then I'm gonna buy clothes...and shoes, maybe find a
place to stay that's better than the den.  It'll be great!"

Paul wasn't quite so confident.  The house looked terribly dark and
imposing from here, like one of those terrible haunted houses in the ghost
stories he'd hear elders tell around the winter fire.  Somehow, looking at
it made him feel terribly small and insignificant, but Raly looked at the
house and saw hope.  He saw a future for them both beyond Oldtown and the
Skyrunners.

Raly looked at his friend encouragingly.  He knew that Paul was a good
sort, and though he seemed shy, the smaller boy had always had his back
when things went bad.  "Ya don't go, ye'll regret it, ya know," he said as
he walked to the wall and dug his fingers into the cracks between stones,
beginning to ascend.  "I'll still share with ya, but it won't be th' same."

It wouldn't, either.  Raly knew that Paul would understand that.  He'd go
in alone if he had to, share with his friend, and even tell everyone that
they'd done it together, but Paul would know the truth.  With a nervous
swallow, Paul began to climb after his friend.

The wall wasn't hard to scale and had no defenses, magical or otherwise.
Perhaps the wizard was confident in his internal defenses and didn't care
if someone was able to scale the wall, but whatever the reason, the wall
was old and hastily-constructed.  There were all manner of places for small
fingers and toes to find purchase, and in almost no time at all, Raly was
at the top and reaching down to help Paul up the rest of the way.  They
communicated only with their hands for the moment; silence made sense when
you were on a job, even when you were sure no one was home.

They climbed down the same way they'd climbed up, reaching the bottom in
the middle of the weed-choked garden that lay around the inside of the
wall.  Flowers had grown their once, but weeds had choked them out long
ago, taking the soft earth for themselves.  The two boys stepped quietly
towards the door and Paul took out a candle and lit it.  They would need
the light to view the map, after all, and without the map to guide them
they'd likely never make it through this place alive.

Paul paused a moment, remembering to wrap a strip of cloth around his hand
to prevent any hot wax from the candle from dripping on it, then nodded to
Raly who went to the door, reached into his pocket, and fished out his
lockpicks.  The map hadn't said anything about traps on the door, and that
only made sense.  After all, what sort of loony boobytrapped their own
front door?  Raly's dexterous fingers worked the tumblers by feel and by
ear and he heard them click into place one-by-one until the door was
unlocked.  Rising to his feet, he swung the old wooden door open, wincing
at the loud creak the rusty hinges made.

The two boys stepped carefully through the doorway and looked around.  So
far, it didn't look much like a wizard's haven.  The entryway was decorated
in a style long out of date, and the carpet was faded and worn.  No one had
cleaned or replaced it in a long time.  It was difficult to see the
patterns that graced its surface, for accumulated grime made them hard to
make out in the candle's dim light.  There was an old chandelier hanging
overhead, the candles having been removed so that it would cast no light.
Raly shook his head.  Clearly, being a mighty wizard did not make one a
skilled interior decorator.

The walls were bare, all tapestries and wall hangings having been removed a
long time ago, likely taken either by scavengers or by the last people to
truly live in this house.  Without them, the house felt naked and Raly
repressed a shudder.  He wasn't afraid of this place, he told himself.
There wasn't anything to be afraid of, especially since they had the map to
guide them past obstacles.  He took a deep breath and glanced at the map,
motioning to a door straight ahead, the wood old but not yet rotten.  That
way led to the library and their destination.

They walked down halls bare of ornamentation and decoration and Raly found
his apprehension increasing with each step.  He wasn't afraid exactly, but
he didn't like this place.  He'd be glad when they got their treasure and
got out.

The library door was a little sturdier than the other doors they'd come to,
and Raly, who had made sure he knew exactly what to do from the notes on
the map, stepped up to the door while Paul glanced down the hall both ways,
just in case.  Raly took a deep breath, and then knocked five times, then
twice.  There was a click signifying that the magic on the door would let
them through and Raly turned the handle, the door swinging open quietly.

The interior was in far better shape than the rest of the house,
unsurprising that a wizard would be more serious about books.  The carpet
was a mess, like all the others, but the bookshelves and books were free
from dust, as were the several reading tables.  Lamps, oil still in them,
were spaced about the room.  The boys didn't even consider lighting them,
just in case.

Each of the shelves in the room was full.  These books, from what the boys
could tell, did not comprise his private library, which was much better
hidden.  There were, however, a number of books on all manner of subjects,
from history to classical literature.  Paul glanced at them, interested,
before Raly turned him back to the task at hand with a light tap on the
shoulder.  One of these books, when moved, would open a secret passageway
that would lead down to the wizard's private workrooms.  That was their
destination, now they just had to find the right book.

They scanned the shelves.  The map gave only a single word clue `obvious',
and that would have to be enough.  Paul took one end of the library and
Raly took the other, thankful that the windows were too smudged and the
wall too high for any passers-by to see the light from their candles.
Carefully scanning each book and grateful, in Raly's case for the first
time, that Jed insisted they all learn to read, they worked their way back
towards the center of the room.

It was Paul who saw it.  He blinked and looked again, then broke their
usual agreement to speak up, voice barely above a whisper.  "Yer kiddin'
me..."  He shook his head in wonder and motioned Raly over.

Raly looked at his friend sharply and spat over his right shoulder to ward
off the bad luck brought by speaking on a job, but moved to Paul's side,
only to shake his head in wonder.  There, right before him on the shelf was
a book that looked no different from the others entitled `An Illustrated
History of Secret Passages' by Yesits Heer.  Just what they needed, a
wizard who thought he was funny.

The notes on the map said to step backwards as they pulled the book out, so
Raly put a hand on the book as Paul step back, and as he pulled the book
out, he pushed off with one foot, propelling himself away from the
bookshelf.  He landed carefully just as, with a sound like grinding gears,
a trapdoor opened in the floor right below where he'd been standing moments
ago.  Both boys winced.  A fall that sudden could end in a broken leg or
worse depending on how long the drop, and that would mean capture for sure.
The wizard's jokes might not be funny, but they sure were nasty.

Paul abandoned the candle, taking up one of the small oil lamps and
lighting it deftly, brought it to the trapdoor to shine the light
downwards.  It looked like it wasn't too far to jump, the ceiling of the
room below wasn't very high so both boys were able to sit down and
carefully pull themselves over the edge, dropping to the floor below and
landing unhurt.

Paul shone the lamp around and then went around to light a few of the other
lamps in the room so that they would have more light.  They were
belowground now, and the light wouldn't filter up to where it might be seen
by passers-by or fellow thieves.

The chamber they found themselves in was small, likely just an entryway to
the others, but there was only a single door up ahead.  The map and its
notes said that what was beyond this door would be enough to make them
rich.  Perhaps foolishly, neither boy had considered why the courier hadn't
made off with the treasure himself if it was so great.

Though bare like the walls up above, the walls of the small chamber they
found themselves in were clean, and the floor showed no trace of dirt or
dust.  Raly opened the door, not hesitating for a moment.  His eyes were
alight with excitement and the thrill of discovery.  He came to an
immediate halt, however, before even one foot crossed the room's threshold.

The room they had entered into was a laboratory, and looked precisely like
you might expect a wizard's laboratory to look.  Long tables held beakers
of potions that bubbled and frothed but somehow did not boil over, magic
likely keeping them from doing so.  Shelves lined the walls of the room
holding jars of all sorts of esoteric ingredient, some of which were
readily available while others would be worth a small fortune on the black
market.  Sadly, it was none of these things that had caused Raly's sudden
halt.

The boy had, in fact, halted and stood rooted to the spot at the sight of
two great hounds, each looking wolf-like in the dim light.  The dogs were
fast asleep and didn't appear to have noticed the two boys yet.  Slowly,
Raly closed the door in front of him, took three steps back, and turned to
Paul, his voice a hiss.  "Damn map didn't say anythin' `bout hounds like
that, did it?  I didn't see nothin'!"

Paul shook his head slowly.  "I didn't see nothin' neither.  You
think...maybe some cutter wanted the thief king ta send people down `ere ta
die?  Maybe someone's makin' a go at him.  Let's go back, there's no coin
fer us `ere; I'd rather get out with m' skin whole."

Raly firmly shook his head.  "Lick that...we've come too far ta pansy-out
now.  Ye stay here; I'll step lightly an' look fer somethin' ta nick.  Even
if we don't get much, somethin's better than nothin', aye?"

Paul looked at Raly as though he'd grown a second head, but slowly nodded
and motioned him onward.  Raly opened the door again, the dogs still
sleeping.  He stepped out and tiptoed around them, giving them a wide
berth, and then frowned.  The dogs really should have woken up, right?
Shouldn't they have smelled him?  Still, the great brindled hounds lay
unmoving save for a slight stirring in their sleep.  "Hey...I think there's
magic here.  They're not wakin' up."  In the haste of the moment, he had
forgotten the prohibition against speaking on a job.  This was far too
important.

Paul carefully entered the room and nodded, making sure to stay well-away
from the beasts as well.  "Then hurry an' grab some stuff...let's get away
`fore th' magic wears off."

Raly nodded in agreement and the two set to work, tossing jars into a bag,
only leaving things that they easily recognized as readily available like
common spices and bits and pieces of common animals.  Some books that Raly
thought were arcane from the strange drawings and odd symbols went into the
bag as well.  The dogs slept on and the two spread out their search, taking
a few valuable-looking trinkets from the adjoining library until Raly
stopped in front of a small metal box and carefully pushed open the lid
with the hilt of his knife.

His eyes lit up the moment the small box opened.  The interior was velvet
and rested in the center was a ruby like none he'd ever imagined.  He'd
never seen a ruby, of course, but he'd heard enough of them to know one
when he saw it.  It was likely worth a fortune in and of itself, perfectly
spherical like a ball and big as a robin's egg.  It glistened with an inner
fire of its own and Raly felt his hand sliding out to touch it, wanting to
feel its polished surface against his skin.

For the briefest of moments, Raly was tempted to do something he'd never
done before; he was tempted to break the Code.

When the lowest of the low had met under the first thief lord long ago, he
had set down rules for them all.  The Rogues' Code was the one true law of
the streets and it was death and disgrace to break it.  Here were written
the rules of the streets, rules like `Never back down on a wager', `Never
kill a guardsman', and the one that Raly was thinking about breaking now
`Never hold out on your boss', among several others.

But why should he share something like this with Jed?  Sure, Jed had always
been straight with him, and he respected that, but if Jed knew he'd made
off with something like this, what were the chances of ever seeing it
again?  None!  Jed would surely be tempted to take it and hock it himself,
then vanish with the profits.  Raly couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't
be tempted, and while Jed was a good boss, like all bosses he had an
inflated sense of what he deserved of the earnings of his followers.  If
Jed never knew about it, he couldn't punish them for holding out on him.

He shook his head and closed the box, sliding it into one of his vest
pockets where it bulged mightily.  No...he couldn't do that.  He'd always
prided himself on keeping to the Code and being as honest in his dealings
as a thief could be.  Even if Jed didn't know, he'd know.  If he lost the
gem, that was on Jed's head and he'd be the one who'd broken the code, not
Raly.

It was Paul's cry of terror that roused him from his thoughts and he looked
towards it, ready to snap at the younger boy to be quiet when he saw that
the dogs were starting to rise to their feet.  Had the gem been some sort
of trap set to catch the overly-greedy?  Or was there something else.
Either way, they were finished if they didn't escape quickly.  The dogs
were growling angrily, mouths pulled back to expose sharp, white teeth.
Each dog was bigger than one of the boys and easily outweighed them both.

Raly glanced around the library.  The dogs were between him and Paul and
the door.  There seemed to be no way out; no secret passage to save them
this time, only the useless old map that hadn't done them one bit of good
since they'd gotten down to the lower level.

Paul stepped back to Raly's side and clung to him, eyes wide with fear as
the first of the dogs stalked into the room, its hackles up and brown-black
fur practically on-end as it prepared to lunge.

Raly did the only thing he could think of.  He reached into his vest pocket
for the gem and felt his hand close on the metal box.  Maybe if he gave the
gem back, the dogs would go back to sleep and they could run for their
lives.  It wasn't much of a hope, but it was better than nothing at all.

Raly opened the box and grabbed the jewel in his hand even as the dog
rushed them.  He remembered someone screaming...or was that two
someones...and suddenly, the room was filled with a deafening sound like
thunder and a blinding crimson flare.  The dogs yelped and turned tail,
fleeing for the safety of the laboratory and leaving Raly and Paul much
confused by their sudden stroke of good fortune.

Raly wasn't stunned for long, however, as he grabbed Paul's hand and made a
dash for the exit.  He didn't know what had happened, he'd think about it
later when they were safely away.  Now was the time to run before those
dogs decided to have another try at them.

Together, they ran out of the library and past the cowering dogs as they
headed for the trapdoor they'd come to.  This proved to be something of a
mistake, however.  The dogs, acting on the same canine instincts that told
them that cats were evil and that trees should be sniffed, remembered that
when someone ran, they were supposed to chase them.  With loud, excited
barks the dogs ran after the boys, their fear momentarily forgotten in the
face of prey.

Raly cursed fluently under his breath and picked up the pace.  The trapdoor
would be reachable by an adult, but both boys were short and it was just
barely outside their grasp.  The dogs were coming and Raly didn't hesitate,
grabbing Paul and boosting him up, tossing the bag of loot up after him.
Paul didn't argue, scrambling up through the trapdoor and reaching down a
hand for Raly.

The lead dog leapt just as Paul pulled Raly up.  Raly kicked out
frantically, but let out a yelp of pain as the dog's teeth grabbed onto the
back of his ragged trousers.  The extra weight almost made Paul drop Raly,
but it was only for a moment as, with the sound of tearing cloth, Raly's
trousers ripped, sending them and the dog falling back to the floor as Paul
pulled his friend up through the trapdoor, the dogs circling and barking
below.

Raly lay back on the floor, gasping, and then when he'd caught his breath
looked down to see that his boyhood was free for the world to see.  "My
trousers!  That stinkin', muck-lovin', tree-humpin'...my trousers!"

Paul patted Raly on the shoulder.  "It's okay.  Did it bite ya?"

"Nah, licker just got th' cloth.  I've only got one other pair, ya know.  I
had those ones fer two years."  Raly got to his feet, rubbing his firm rear
as he glared down at the dogs, and then shut the trapdoor behind him.

Paul grinned and held up the sack full of loot.  "Relax.  Ye'll be able ta
afford a lot o' trousers when we get this hocked.  A pair fer every day o'
th' year.  We did it!"

Raly leapt to his feet, the nakedness of his lower half briefly forgotten
as he hugged his friend tightly.  It was more than the joy of success.  It
was relief.  They were alive, and they would never have to do anything like
this ever again.  He pulled back, patting Paul on the back one last time.
"Fancy ones," he agreed.  "With patterns an' stuff."

*


Hope you enjoyed part one.  Trust me when I say the characters will come
together...and there are more to introduce.  Look for the next chapter.