Moonshadow

The baying hounds and the clamoring bells signal their pursuit. But no one in this city knows the rooftops like you. Your bare feet race up the iron lattice in front of the palace like they’ve done a hundred times before and step onto the cold roof tiles. A shout comes from below but you dash across a stone arch, the old mortar crunching beneath your toes. You steal a glance at the crescent moon through the black smoke belching from the ironworks chimney. An arrow whistles by but they can’t catch you if you keep running. One, two, three breaths and you’re already passing the leaded glass of the upper district, the gargoyles scowling from the silvered aqueducts, crows nesting in their fanged jaws. Then a slide down a sloping carriage house roof and a leap up and through the bell tower. 

Finally, the baying of the hounds is distant and you drop, quiet as death, onto the mossy earth and a cat streaks away, frightened by your sudden appearance. It takes an odd path across the yard and up the wall, avoiding the bushes. Your instincts stop you. You hesitate a heartbeat, then two.

Just then something glints silvery in the moonlight. You recognize a spike - the kind which adorns the helmet of the city guard - just visible above the brambles. The old gnarled oak was certainly surrounded. No doubt they had found the hollow within and the staff and spyglass tucked deep inside. Now you are the only prize remaining and they know where to look…

Then, movement. A tall, dark-haired, familiar figure strolling beneath the stone arch that marks the entrance into the yard. A tattered black cloak luffing in the cool night breeze. Jean would never move so brazenly into the open. Something is wrong. From your hiding place crouched in the bush you clutch the hilt of your dagger as Jean’s voice carries from beyond the headstones.

“Come out friend… it’s over now”