Rouge Princess

Rogue Princess

My first story on here. Any comments would be appreciated!

Chapter 1

It was the dead of night. The moon shown bright, illuminating the castle underneath. Tall and gray, it rose up from the ground like a mountain. Tall stone walls surrounded it with an iron gate being the only way in and out. Torch light flickered from the guards patroling the wall and castle courtyard. Occasionally a guard would stop to exchange the rounds and head off to bed for some well needed rest. They would head off to the barrock, enjoying the midnight stroll, not noticing a dark figure emerging from a window high in one of the castle towers.

The dark figure lowered a rope from the window to a balcony below, and slowly crawled down. When it reached the balcony it pressed against the wall and looked though a nearby window, making sure nobody was inside. Confirming that all was clear it looked below the balcony. Seeing a guard below it cursed silently. Drawing a rock from within its cloak, it threw it towards the nearby wall.

Hearing the noise the guard went to investigate. The figure smiled and raced across the balcony. A tree grew from the ground up to the balcony. The figure quickly climbed into the tree and started to climb down. As it was close enough so that it could jump down to the ground a bird, irritated by the stranger's intrusion, began to fly around the figure's head.

The figure cursed the bird and let go of the branch to swat at the bird. It realized its mistake too late as it fell backwards out of the tree, scraping its hand as it tried to grab onto something. The figure landed on its back with a dull thud. It groaned and got up quickly. Checking to make sure the guard wasn't coming back it raced to the surrounding wall. Hiding in the shadows below, the figure watched the guards above pass by. After the guard had passed, it found hand and footholds and scaled the wall with lightning speed. It reached the top and quikly scaled down the other side.

Upon reaching the other side, it raced to the stand of trees nearby and checked back to see if its progress had been noticed. Seeing that it hadn't, the figure turned and walked down the side of the road, flitting through the trees like a spirit.

The road was short and soon became a street as it entered a town. The town was quiet, and the moon illuminated the streets, giving anyone outside a clear view as if walking through daylight. The figure did not want light though. It quickly headed for the nearest alley. Traveling quietly, the figure walked down the alley until it reached the broken part of town. Long ago it had been most of the town, but when a terrible earthquake had struck, the town had crumbled. Some of the buildings had survived, but they were all run down. Now only the poor people of the city lived here.

The figure moved silently through the broken streets. Often it could se a pair of eyes here, the glint of a dagger there. It kept the hood of its cloak up and continued walking until it reached the door of a particular house. Upon seeing the house, anyone would feel there was nothing special about it, but the figure was there for a reason. The figure knocked softly on the door three times. A piece of wood slid to the side towards the top of the door, revealing a gap from which two storm gray eyes looked out. "Password," said a gruff voive from inside the house.

"The black falcon rises to greet the night," said the figure. The wood slid into place and the figure heard the sound of a lock shifting out of place. The door opened and in the doorframe stood a tall, burly man in his late thirties. His dark hair and beard, along with a scar that ran from his left eye to his chin, gave him a menacing look. His bulging muscles were covered by a white shirt and dirty brown vest. He wore gray pants which were tucked into black boots. At his waist he wore a belt with a dagger and pouch haning from it.

The man stepped aside and the figure walked in. The man closed the door and set the lock back into place. The figure loked around the room. A young man, about the age of seventeen, sat in a small chair beside a fireplace. A fire blazed in the fireplace illuminating his emerald green eyes. His read hair glowed in the firelight, looking like a blaze on his head. Like the man, he wore a white shirt and brown vest. His gray pants were tucked into brown boots and he too wore a belt with a pouch and dagger. A silver chain hung from his neck and was tucked underneath his shirt.

Sitting next to him was a woman in her mid-thirties. Like the young man she had red hair and emerald green eyes. She wore a simple brown dress and brown sandals. Her small, lithe body and strong legs suggested that she was a dancer.  In a sweet, bell-like she said, "Welcome back."

The figure nodded and removed its hood. A young girl, roughly the age of sixteen answered, "It's good to be back." Long golden hair bound in a tight braid spilled down her back. Icy blue eyes took in the three people in the room. She removed her cloak and set it on the back of a nearby chair. Her gray shirt and pants matched her gray boots. She sat down in the chair and pulled a dagger from one of her boots. She begain to pick at the bits of stone and dirt under her nails as the young man spoke.

"We're glad you made it Angela. Have any trouble getting here?"

"Only a stubborn bird," she replied showing him her hand.

"Oh you poor thing," the woman said getting up. "We can't go having people asking how the princess ended up with that." She walked into a nearby room and came back out with some water and a cloth.

"Thank you Martha," Angela said as the woman began to clean her hand.

"Well just out of curiosity did you happen to bring anything with you?" asked the young man. Angela dug into her cloak pocket and drew out a fat pouch. She tossed it at the young man with the sound of small clinking.

"Straight to the point aren't you?" she said as he opened the bag. Copper and silver coins glinted up at him. He looked at Angela and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh relax Chris," said Angela. "Father had a very wealthy nobleman over last week. He was awfully rude and self centered. So I picked his pocket."

"Didn't he notice?" asked Chris.

"He only would have noticed if it was gold. People like hom don't care about copper or silver."

"I see."

The man who had been standing in the corner during the exchange spoke in a deep voice. "That is enough money to last us months. Thank you Your Highness."

"Your welcome Grayson," Angela said. "And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Angela." The man just smiled and settled back into his corner.

"Your birthday's in a few days is it not?" asked Chris.

"Yes," Angela sighed. "Father insists on having a huge celebration in honor of it."

"Doesn't sound too bad," said Chris. "Big celebrations mean lots of free food and drinks."

"Yeah well I don't enjoy fancy parties like Father does. He expects me to wear a god-awful pink dress with so much lace and frills on it that I'd probably drown. Then he wants to show me off to all of his guests, many of which are probably going to be suitors. And to top it all off, he wants me to give a speech declaring how wonderfully happy I am that thay all came, blah blah blah."

"Well we can always crash it for you," said Chris, a mischevious grin showing on his face.

"You can try if you get past the guards."

"You insult me," Chris said as he tried to look dignified.

"Oh I'm sorry," said Angela. "I didn't mean to insult the great prince of theives. Master of sneaking and trickery. All powerful leader of the Undercity, long forgotten the the stuckup surface dwellers. Please sir, I beg your forgiveness."

"Very funny," said Chris. He stood up and walked to stand in front of the fireplace. "And I was willing to help you out of your party."

"Come on you know I was kidding. What could you do to help me?"

"Well I have a plan," said Chris, turning around to look at her. A wicked grin spread across his face. Everyone leaned in to hear what he was going to say. He sat on the floor and said, "Here's what we do..."

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Later that night a cloaked figure stepped out of a rundown building and headed through the streets of a broken town. If anyone had been watching they would have seen the figure head towards the new city and up the road leading to the castle. If they had watched further they would have seen the figure climb up the side of the wall surrounding the castle and disappear out of sight.

Yet if they had been watching even further they would have seen another cloaked figure on a horse come around from the back of the castle and ride to the north with nothing but the moonlight to guide them.