Dark Prince Rising

One

The moon was nearly full, hanging in the folds of the night sky like a pearl resting in velvet. The city of Rysthi was asleep and still. The only sounds were the cry of an occasional stray cat and the swish of the flags hung from the windows to celebrate the new baby princess.

Cira crouched still as a statue on the roof of an ink shop, watching the streets below intently. The man she was searching for had the ability to mask his steps and walk silently as a shadow, so she had to rely on her eyes alone tonight.

A slight wind picked up, caressing Cira's face and twining around her arms before continuing on its route. She couldn't help but smile. It had whispered to her of a young boy in a village to the east who had just fallen asleep in the arms of his mother. She hoped that the family would live long and happily. She didn't want that boy to end up like her.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught her eye. A man in a dark cloak was making his way quickly down the street, avoiding the small patches of light cast by the lamps on the sides of the road.

Cira stood up slowly, stretching her legs. The man darted like a shadow along the street, his face continually hidden by the cloak. He passed directly beneath her, and Cira heard not a sound. This was her man.

Light as a cat, she took off across the rooftops, matching her pace to the man below. She kept a bit behind him, so that if he happened to look up she would have time to roll to out of sight. If they fought, it would be on her terms. Not his.

They continued like that for some time, until the man darted silently around a corner into the small space between two buildings. Cira slowed as he slowed, pulling her anelace from its sheath on her hip.

The man crouched at the end of the alley, muttering something quietly to a heap of cloth. He must be mad, Cira thought. This should be fun.

Then she jumped. For a moment, she was falling freely, the wind rushing in her ears. Just before she collided with the cobbled road, the winds cushioned her fall and lowered her feet safely to the ground.

The cloaked man whirled around, his hand already falling to his dagger. "Where did you come from?" His voice was high and unpleasant, and Cira could see at this range that his face was covered in wrinkles. He was old, old enough to be her grandfather.

Cira didn't respond. She simply smiled, knowing the effect her smile had when the onlooker couldn't see the rest of her face. The enchanted cloak she wore hid her features and protected her identity, but she still liked to play with the creepy effects she could give when just her lower face was visible.

The old man tightened his grip on his dagger, but his shaking hand betrayed him. The dagger clattered to the ground, skidding across the cobblestones to rest near a wall about four paces away.

He turned back to Cira, his eyes wide with fear. "Please," he sputtered. "Please don't hurt me. I'll give you all the money I have. Just leave me alive. I won't-"

"Shut it," Cira growled. The man clamped his mouth shut, his chin wobbling. Cira sighed. She had been looking forward to a fight. "I won't hurt you if you answer my questions."

The man nodded vigorously, his eyes bulging with fear. Cira scowled. What a waste of humanity.

She moved closer to him, carefully tying his hands together with a cord and plopping him down on his rear end. Then she moved to block the only escape route, and began her questioning. "You are a Follower of Eris, are you not?"

The old man suddenly stopped shaking, his eyes narrowing to black slits. A frightening calm came over him, the guise of a weak old coward slipping from him like a discarded cloak. He suddenly didn't seem so weak and afraid. He looked more like a snake, coiled and ready to spring. Maybe Cira would get her fight after all.