OK SECOND RA FANFIC! It's all about the King's Killer! This is set after book six! You will no doubt see John Flanagan's characters in this fanfic as they begin a quest to stop the King's Killer. (There might be some couplings along the way...)

Rated T for bloodshed.

The Thief…

It's astonishing, how everything you've ever known can change in one instant. In just one moment, I went from an insignificant thief, to the greatest defiler Araluen has ever seen.

The King's dining room was as full as ever, and it was a simple dinner that night. It was mid Autumn, and the weather was beginning to cool down, and the air began to show signs of the biting chill that would come with Winter was in full swing. Inside Castle Araluen, everything seemed so much brighter. Torchlight was elegant, light filled every inch of the rooms, the dining room was marveling.

The cloaked figure stood along the outer most edges. Admiring the social gathering with a critical interest. The long hand crafted dark wood table stretched the length of the room, topped with an even longer silk white table cloth and more food than the petty thief had ever seen in his entire life. At the head of the table sat the King, across from him was the Queen. They exchanged loving looks across the void the table placed between them. They were seated at the shorter ends of each side of the table, all around the rest of the table were honored guests the thief had never seen before.

A dagger glistened under the mottled grey cloak of the imposter, a silver oak leaf hung from around his neck. He sprang, like a wolf leaping after a fleeing Caribou. The cowl of his cloak was tugged around his face, his grey eyes flashed in the shadow shrouding his face. He planted a foot on a vacant chair and propelled him self onto the table, he raced across it.

The thief only had to move a pace or to before he was leaping for the King. He felt weightless. He raised his dagger, the cries of outrage and confusion already slurring his thoughts. He slammed into the King with a vengeance the two collided with the marble floor with a thud. The thieves long bladed dagger embedded itself hilt into the King's chest, the bulk of the Royal Guard was already springing forward. Rough hands groped for him, the King's own he realized.

The thief saw it, he always did when he killed. The dying light in King Duncan's eyes. He heard the scream of the King's wife, he felt the adrenaline, screaming through his veins. And then he picked himself up off the floor quickly and he ran, he was sure that he'd done his job, he only cared about escaping now. The Royal Guard surged after him. Agility had always been one of his talents, and he used it to his advantage now.

"Get him!"

"No! The King!"

The yells and cries were all around him, so close, yet so far away.

Some guards went to the King's side, the rest ran for the killer, streaking after him with swords naked in their hands, howling for his blood. The thief had scouted out the castle and knew a vague route of escape he'd planned on. He went straight for the throne room, the largest room in the castle no doubt. In one door, out the other. He told himself, Straight for the ramparts!

He skittered to a stop, the second massively built wooden door loomed in front of him. It was closed. There was no time to stop and open it, not that he was strong enough to do so anyways. The cloaked menace spun to face the Royal Guard. The first of them came at him at a run, already swinging his sword for the figure who's back was now against the wall. Well, this isn't a first, The thief thought slyly, dragging his own sword free from it's scabbard at his waist. He parried the first overhand strike by his opponent by throwing his blade up, they met with a deafening clang that echoed through the throne room and set the killers teeth to rattling.

More guards were gaining ground, the thief thrust his sword forward at one Guard, and yanked a dagger from his belt, hurling it at another. Once more he silently thanked the Gods for his blinding speed. One Guard fell, another stepped to take his place. Suddenly the door behind the thief opened, and he blocked one last sword stroke before turning and running, more guards blockaded his way, he swept forward, ducked low and surged up with a vicious flick of his sword. He cleared a path through the unsuspecting Guards, and then he was gone, racing out into the glorious court yard now alive with yells and screams and activity.

They all seemed to be screaming at the killer, and only two words that seemed to get through to him as he bolted for an exit were, Get him! The words rang wildly in his ears and he raced up a flight of stone steps, forcing his way onto the ramparts. Guards awaited him there, He was trapped, between the Guards following him up the steps, and the ones awaiting him at the top. He stopped, bloodstained sword in hand, and smirked.

"Drop your sword!" Horace yelled, he held his dangerously close to the killer. The sword gleamed in the moonlight.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I don't think I will," Then thief stepped to the wall to his left,and before anyone could stop him, he'd hurled himself over the wall. Feet first, dangerously sharp sword in hand. Horace raced to the wall and looked over, expecting to see the broken body of the killer. Instead there was a large wagon, filled with hay. The thief was pulling his self from the mes of grain, he still held his weapon, but the cowl of his cloak had been knocked back onto his shoulders.

Horace saw the oak leaf, pinned around the neck of the killer, it glistened in the moonlight. Even from where he stood on the ramparts, he could see the auburn hair and the grey eyes. He saw the conflicting emotions in the killers eyes, then the figure whistled.

A large stallion broke free from the night. It's black and white coat gleamed dully in the muted grey light of the moon. The thief sheathed their blade, the horse slowed somewhat, and then the thief had swung into the saddle, kicking the horse forward into a blinding gallop. The King's Killer disappeared into the fathomless darkness of the night.

For all Horace knew, the killer was a Ranger.

Please review and let me know if this is worth continuing.