The Thief of Skystead

The General and the Thief

Time is slipping away from him like sand in a grate.

The day of the wedding has crept up, it's here, and Azazel isn't there. How much time does he have before Alistair is married off to the general? Hours? Minutes? His stomach sinks with dread. How is he going to get there in time?

His feet start moving before he has a plan. Maybe, that's just what he needs. There's no time to think, he has to act. He has to use every second he has and push it towards his goal: saving Alistair. He hobbles out of the morgue, steadying himself on the wall. Glancing down the hall, he sees no one. Hastily, he stumbles through the corridor.

Eventually, guards are going to find him. And when they do, it won't be pretty. He's in no shape to fight. He's in no shape for much of anything, really. If he is confronted by a guard, his best hope is to slip away from them. He can't outfight and he can't outrun.

From where he is now, there are two more corners he has to turn before he reaches the exit. The exit is guarded by at least two guards at all times, but other than that, it is relatively lax. Prisoners are almost always in their cells or being put to work, so they usually don't have to deal with prisoners wandering the halls. Especially prisoners that were dead just a little bit ago. But just because they're lax doesn't mean he can be, too. They have a strong advantage over him in every way. He has to find a way to slip by them.

Perhaps he can use stealth to his advantage and sneak past them. He doesn't suspect that it will work, because there's not much room to hide, but if it did that would be ideal. Nothing's ever ideal for him, though, so he suspects his aim will be to pull the lever that releases all the prisoners, causing mass chaos so great that they won't have time to catch him.

Far down the hall, he hears frantic shouting. He turns, but sees no one. From the morgue, two shadows scurry around the room and yell to each other about finding something. They must've discovered his body is missing.

He picks up the pace. Well, as much as his mangled body can. Just as he turns the first corner, he hears a voice bark, "There he is!"

Physically, he shouldn't run. He does anyways.

The pounding of feet reverberates through the hall and grows louder with every step. They're getting closer, far too close, and he doesn't need to glance back to know it. He can hear their shouting and running like they're right next to him.

His leg, the one the general stabbed, gives out suddenly. He stabilizes himself against the wall to avoid falling. The wall is shaking with the tremors of the stampeding guards.

Right behind him, a hand thrusts out to snatch him. He ducks and dives to the side, rolling out of his attacker's range. When he jumps back to his feet, his head spins like it's about to fall off. He wobbles back, staggering away from the assailant as his vision moves in and out of focus.

When he regains clarity, he sees none other than Warden stalking towards him. Three guards back her. Her ever-present sadistic cheer is gone, replaced with a furious snarl.

"You," she seethes, raising her arm high to strike him, "Are getting to be a real pain!"

She swipes at him, intent on ripping him to pieces, but he backs out of the way just in time. He turns and runs, teetering on the verge of collapse. He only makes it a few steps before he's knocked down by a guard. The guard, straddling him, winds back a fist and brings it down to Azazel's face. Right before it makes contact, Azazel moves his head to the side and they punch solid brick.

Howling in pain and clutching their swelling hand, they let their guard down enough for Azazel to throw them off. Another guard rushes to take their place, but Azazel twists to his hands and knees, gets up, and takes off running. Running is easier than it was before he was almost slugged in the face. Could this be an adrenaline rush taking over?