The Thief With Wings - Chapter One

When the King was in charge, we had peace and order. Farmers, workers, warriors—all were under the ruling protection of the King. We paid him taxes and tributes. We gave him our oaths of fealty. But there was a strange disquiet.

After years of amassing gold and jewels, there were many who had wealth like the King. These merchants and nobles didn’t like that he had all the power and that they had none. They wanted the power for themselves. They hired people from within the city and without. They turned the guards into mercenaries. They broke and took away our ruler.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. To quiet the masses, the nobles and the merchants were feeding the hungry and poor. Everyone had enough. That had never happened under the King.

After the initial coup, there were no more public battles. There were only surreptitious skirmishes. Whispers passed of neighbors who supported the old ways and they disappeared in the night. No one was being killed in the streets. Yet slowly and silently the supporters of the crown were eliminated. The food in our bellies pacified us.

Then the handouts and perks began to dry up. Men from each of the guilds and professions met and gathered with these nobles and the merchants. They talked about equality and liberty. We were enflamed by the ideas.

All along no one saw the noose we were tying around our own necks.


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I wake up and the first thing I can feel is an acrid churning in my stomach. I sit upright and I’m dizzy. I want to vomit the contents of my stomach and start over again, but my body is uncooperative. My eyes adjust to the darkened space I’m in. I don’t know where I am.

“Please, friend, try and relax,” an unknown voice says.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Just call me Solon,” he answers. “Now please, relax.”

A warm, damp cloth is draped across my forehead and I feel an instant cooling and relief.

“By Ongredost, what was that?” I ask.

“Brewed leaves of the Galene plant,” he replies.

My nausea subsides. It’s quickly replaced by sudden pains as I remember the image of Kyra against the rising sun, taken by the guards.

“What time is it, Solon?” I ask. I’m feeling good enough to stand. My caretaker eases me back to the resting place.

“You have been unconscious for more than a day,” he says and pauses. He must see the urgency and fear in my countenance. “She is long gone, my friend,” he says solemnly.

Chills run down my spine and tears swell. I squeeze my eyes shut until they are a desert once more.

“Then I must go after her,” I say.

“And where have they taken her then?” Solon asks. “The prison? The palace turned statehouse? The barracks to take advantage of her? You are lucky to be alive right now! You don’t even know where she is? What can you hope to do? If you make an appeal to the courts, it is certain death.”

Solon’s words rip through my resolve. I don’t know where she is. She could be anywhere. I was out of it for so long. I’ll reach out to my contacts. One of them will know.

“Friends of mine will surely know where she is,” I say. “I will find her.”

“The friends of yours in the underground?” Solon asks. “How do you think it is that the guards were turned on to you in the first place? How do you think it is that I knew where to find you?”

My mind roils from his words. I don’t want to believe him, but I know he must be right. If I was truly turned in by someone in the underground, then it’s a death sentence to the courts or anywhere else. And why does want to find me?

I’m not sure how long I’ve been silent for. Solon puts his arm on my shoulder.

“Friend Hawk, I’m sorry to be so harsh. But I need you alive. You’re the only one who can help me. I need a man with your talents.”

“And just what do you know about me?” I ask.

Solon smiles. He stands and walks out of the room. He reemerges with a small chest.

When he opens it, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.