The Princess and The Captain

Part 7- The Necklace

Emory was amazed at the fluidity of the woman's movements as she evaded capture. The captain grit her teeth as she willed her feet to keep their speed amidst the midnight chase. Lyra seemed to slip in and out of shadows under the cover of night. Just when Emory thought she had the thief in her clutches, the woman disappeared in an alley for a fleeting second before she reappeared on the roof of some store or the other.

Emory scaled the building in record time, grateful she wasn't wearing armor to slow her down. They twisted up and down the buildings of Lilith until both of their muscles burned and their lungs refused to fill with air, but the chase continued. Lyra desperately tried to lose the captain by sending stones, daggers, small barrels, and rotten produce flying behind her, but Emory skillfully avoided them. Their frantic steps echoed off the cobblestone streets. Emory wondered where the thief could possibly be running to. Home? The woman seemed smarter than that. A trap? Unlikely, Emory knew this city better than anyone else. If she was being led to a trap, she was sure she would have figured it out by now.

Suddenly, just a few feet ahead, Lyra stopped near a hostel that was under construction. Emory watched as the beauty before her hunched over in need of air, water and energy. She held onto a rope attached to a rusty pulley as she silently watched the captain approach and when Emory was but five feet away, Lyra drew two dueling daggers from her boots.

The captain drew her sword from its sheath at her side and stood at a standing position. She longed to hunch over and catch her breath as Lyra had done before but she hardly had the time. Dark brown met a golden hazel as they sized each other up. Emory noticed the daggers the thief held were different from the ones sent spiraling toward her during their chase. These ones looked sharper, and more expensive with carvings on them that Emory couldn't decipher.

"Put your weapons down thief." Emory began, "It won't end well for you if you don't."

A tired but coy grin graced Lyra's lips, "And here I thought we were becoming friends." Inky curls fell over Lyra's eyes but she made no move to clear them from her face.

Emory couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight. The accent that seemed to lace every word the woman uttered made her eager to hear more. Even so, she narrowed her eyes at the remark and swung her sword with the skill and precision she had learned over the years.

The sound of metal clashing rang through the air as the Xemite before her blocked the attack with surprising ease before recovering and striking at the captain with a blow of her own.

Emory rolled her wrists in defense and soon they were doing a dance the captain knew all too well. Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend. Less skilled swordsmen would find it difficult to match Emory's speed and wit, but Lyra met her blow for blow.

Ignoring the tendrils of hair now falling in her own eyes, Emory mustered strength to deliver a powerful swing that Lyra barely had time to lift her arm in response to. The dagger in the thief's right hand was knocked a few feet away, leaving her with just one in defense.

The captain huffed when she met Lyra's determined gaze, "I don't want to hurt you, but that necklace doesn't belong to you. Surrender." Emory steadily circled around the thief, sword raised and at the ready.

"I heard you in there, captain. You're giving these jewels to a royal? I'm sure they have hundreds. Thousands. What's one bloody necklace to them?" There was defiance in Lyra's tone as she cautiously met every step Emory took.

"Perhaps nothing. But the cost of that necklace is enough to help that seamstress survive in this kingdom." Emory could see the woman's resolve cracking as she spoke, "It's one thing to steal from the rich, but you don't seem like the type to steal from the poor."