Disclaimer: Most is Tammy's, some is mine. This is not for profit, but for my own enjoyment. And hopefully yours too. :-)
Summary: How George Cooper became the King of the Thieves
A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews! They make me feelall warm and fuzzy inside. And don't worry, I take into consideration everything you guys say. Now onto part 3.
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George hurried to catch up to One Eye; he was slower than the thief and the distance between them was growing.
A shout echoed down the alley- they had been spotted. He resisted the urge to turn around when he heard the thumps that let him know the guards had vaulted over the fence. The clanging of metal told him the guards were following, and George struggled with himself. He wanted to know how far back they were, how much time he had.
George gave into the temptation, just for a moment. The guards struggled to run in their heavy plate armor, but they were coming faster than he had thought possible. George turned back around and pumped his legs harder, willing himself to move quicker. One Eye was at the mouth of the alley, what if he left him?
"Stop in the name of the Crown!" a voice cried over thundering footsteps.
"Lad, run!" One Eye shouted to him. George struggled. He was so tired; his knees threatened to give out at any second, but he didn't slow down.
He was almost there! Stretching out his free hand, George reached for One Eye's open palm. Just as the thief was about to take it and pull him to safety, George was jerked backwards. Arms spiraling, he struggled for balance. One of the guards, faster than his companions, had caught up to him.
George clawed desperately at the hands that grasped his tunic, but it was no use. The man pressed a sword edge against his throat and growled into his ear, "I've got ye now laddy." George's heart stopped, and he wrenched his head away. Suddenly a whistling noise sliced thought the air and the pressure on George's collar lessened before disappearing completely.
George rubbed the area on his neck chafed by his rough tunic as he turned to see what had happened. The guard lay on the ground, dagger through his heart. His eyes were glassy and his face was pale. He's dead, George realized. Dead. He absentmindedly continued to rub at his neck as he looked down at the man's body. The world slowed down, time seemed to cease moving. George should have been worried about the oncoming guards, they were even angrier now that one of their own had fallen. And even though he knew he should, he couldn't care about One Eye, or the fact that the dagger buried deep in the dark blue tunic was most likely his. All he could see was the man laying at his feet.
"Lad, snap out of it!" The words took their time to reach his consciousness, and even then it was moments before George reacted. He looked up sluggishly. One Eye was at his side, new dagger ready in his hand. The thief grabbed him tightly around his upper arm and took off down the alley, pulling George behind him. George's body had no choice but to react. Either his feet moved, or they would be dragged. As George's steps took him farther away from the body, his thoughts became clearer.
"Sorry," he grunted as he and One Eye skidded around the corner, feet sliding on the flagstones.
"Apologize later, live now," One Eye told him in a quick breath. At the mouth of the alley they had turned left down the street, but now they saw that two of King Roald's soldiers ran down the middle, scaring men and women indoors.
"I can't fight them," One Eye muttered under his breath. His grip on George's upper arm tightened. "Lad, don't let me be wrong about you. C'mon." George found himself being propelled in the opposite direction. A fleeting thought crossed his mind- he didn't have an inkling about where they were going. Did he really trust One Eye? Mentally, he shrugged. He'd choose the thief over the guards any day, and it wasn't like he could get away from the man's iron grip.
The pair continued to flee.
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Over fences, down alleys, over rooftops- One Eye led George down a long and twisting path away from danger. Since One Eye was pulling him along, George used the time to watch his surroundings and try to memorize what they passed. Crossing the roof of a bakers, jumping down onto the barrels in a wine seller's back alley, it was more adventure in one night than George had had in his life.
After an hour's run, they had reached their destination. One Eye released George's arm and stood, staring up at the building with a look of pride on his face. George was confused. They were in front of a shabby wooden inn, but One Eye looked at it as if it was a palace.
"Where are we?" he asked softly. He didn't know if he should be quiet or not, but there was a feeling of importance in the air and he felt it would be appropriate.
One Eye looked down and him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, lad, this is our castle. A throne for the thieves of Corus." He opened the door and disappeared inside the inn.
George followed him slowly, hazel eyes wide. As he pulled open the worn wooden door after One Eye, he noticed a fading sign hung above his head. In peeling gold letters, it read "The Dancing Dove."
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A/N: Review please. :-) Next part will be coming sooner then last time, I hope. Review review! (And I hope you liked it!)
