I do not own the rights to the Wheel of Time book series…but it would be cool if I did!
The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, and Age yet to come, an Age long past, a small breeze blew over the Stone of Tear. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
Two boys, not more than sixteen years of age, crept through the eerie darkness towards a small hole nearby that served as a drainage hole for the fortress. The boy in front was seginficantly smaller than the other, and one could tell that by the way he moved that he had been in many fights, and had never seen defeat; foreigners had often compared him to the wretched Aes Sedai's warders by his fluid and deadly grace.
The other boy, one could guess he weighed 3 hundredweight of solid muscle, and wouldn't be far off, he too was fluid with his movements, not within a marches length of his comrade, but more than any man of his size should be.
When they reached their destination, the larger one took hold of the bars blocking the hole, and with a small grunt, moved the bars soundlessly out of the way as if they had been meant to move. This created an opening in the supposedly impenetrable fortress that these two have used many times in the past.
"You make that look too easy" the smaller whispered as he started to walk through the opening
"After you Branor, its very gentlemanly of me to hold the door for others, and since we are entering a castle, we need to mind our manners." the larger said in a hushed mocking tone.
"Thank you Namor, that is very kind of you." Replied Branor in the same hushed mocking tone, "But enough fun and games, we need to get in, grab some stuff and get the out of here."
Both walk through the hole, and while Namor attempted to replace the bars, Branor scouted out ahead in the darkness. Their goal was to sneak in, take something valuable here, take a trinket there, all to be sold to be able to afford food and shelter for the next few weeks, and get out without alerting any guards, and not harming anyone, it was not their style to harm.
"Ah, I'll put her back in place when we leave." Branor heard Namor call quietly from behind him. "Blood and ashes that thing is going to kill my back before I have the chance to get old."
"Shush, we don't want to alert the guards, and you really should put it back now, what if a guard finds it before we can leave? Did you think of that?" Branor whispered to Namor when he had finally caught up to him while he rubbed his back from soreness of moving the bars.
"The guards always stay on the wall, or in the wall, they never are directly behind the wall, we have no chance of being discovered here."
"There is always a chance."
"Well sorry, but I'm not going back there yet. Let's just get going, I have a bad feeling about tonight"
"You're just worried because of the proclamation sent out that anyone caught stealing will be made an example of, but they've not caught us yet, why would tonight be any different?"
While the two continued their little argument, they headed off toward a small court yard they had used to get into a small servant's hallway. Once inside they followed the passage up towards the higher levels. With the use of these passages they could get anywhere in the castle without meeting a patrol of guards, and since all the lords and ladies had retired to their chambers, there were little servants in the hallways, and even then they mostly were in the main halls cleaning at this time of night.
"Ah, here is one we haven't been to for a while." Branor whispered as they came to a small doorway, about six feet high.
"I hate the small doorways; they just don't build them for thieves like me." Namor sighed.
"We are not thieves my friend, with as much as these lords tax us, you could consider it, well, withdrawing our investments." Branor replied as he opened the door slightly and took a look around for any living soul that might impede on their activities in the area.
When it was clear that the area was free of prying eyes, the two men shuffled out of the door and headed for the rooms that, from previous encounters, they knew were guest rooms and were currently uninhabited, but contained many items of value.
The door swung silently and with great ease on oiled hinges as the two men entered the room. The room was not one of the higher guest rooms, more than likely it was given to the visiting lower lords. But where the room lacked in very fine things, it also lowered the chances of servants appearing for cleaning.
"Alright, you get the wash basin and pitcher and the wash clothes, I'll get the items on the mantle." Branor said, no longer in a hushed tone, once the door was finally shut. "Remember, leave no trace."
"Blood and ashes you don't have to tell me every time, we have done this every other week for the last two years, don't you think I would have learned by now?" Namor replied in sarcastically. "Let's just get the stuff and go."
Branor walked up to the mantle and started grabbing everything in sight. Keeping record in his mind of what he had grabbed, and started to calculate what he could sell them for. A small golden deer on a silver field; that piece would be hard to find a buyer, but could go for quite a few gold crowns. A clock of good make will have people swarming to buy, and they always went for lots of gold crowns.
Then something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, at the far end of the room, sitting in corner, almost as if it had been thrown there, sat a knife, neither large nor heavily ornamented. Branor, even from this distance, could tell that this knife was of a very fine make, and could be of good use. Branor quickly removed everything else from the mantle and hurried over to the knife.
"All good over here, ready to get out of here? I still get the feeling something bad is going to happen, and I don't want to stick around to learn if I am right!"
"Yea, be right there" Branor replied, grabbing the knife and starting for the door. The knife was well balanced in his hand, and weighed just enough to where he could feel it, but was nowhere near a burden to him. All of a sudden, he felt something run through his body, as if an icy cold fire had ran out of the knife and into his body, giving him the feeling of power he had never felt before and he couldn't help but let out a gasp.
"What's wrong Bran? You get hurt on something?"
"N…no, I…I just got this, n…never mind, let's go."
Both boys then head for the door, and make their way back to the servant's passage, but before Branor can get the door open, they hear a yell from the far end of the hallway.
"Halt! Stop right there!"
Branor swiveled to see that 5 guards, probably heading for their watch, were walking around the corner.
"Did you know that we were this close to the Guard's quarters?" cried Namor.
"No! I never would have decided to come here if I had!"
Branor, still in front threw the door open and tried to squeeze Namor through after him.
"Hurry up before they get here!"
"I told you! These doors are not made for someone of my size!" Namor replied in an agonizing tone. "And with this bag, it's near impossible, go! Go on without me, I'll fight my way out. Go!"
With a look back, Branor takes off down the corridor, hearing the yell of the guards, and which quickly were drowned out by the sounds of Namor's battle cry that he was so proud of, and the sound of breaking porcelain that Branor could only guess was Namor swinging his sack around as a makeshift weapon.
Branor followed his path out, thanking the Creator that of all nights, this was the one that Namor had left the passage open. At the opening, Branor stopped and looked back. Namor had been right. Something bad had happened, and though he could still hear his battle cries from the opening, he knew he would never see his best friend again.