Sara wanders between the market stalls, stopping at every glittering item that catches her attention. Gems found in Alexanderian's mines catch the dazzling sun; reflecting the fractals over her elfish face. Silks with intricate designs, woven by the Maidens of the Goddess monastery, hang from ornate loops. The spice stands, with their pots of rich colourful grains made her sneeze.

Chris wanders behind her, sticking close to Eclipse's side. He notices the stares the panther attracts. There’s even a merchant rubbing his hands as if contemplating the price for a creature like him. Opportunists, he thinks. Everyone is. But he hopes his new acquaintances escape Lollardum before the greedy bastards’ strike. The panther didn't seem concerned with Moira's absence. With her gone, he’s in charge, and with that responsibility any question regarding Allan is met with distain. He sighs, studying a pair of dazzling earrings. Nickel-plated; he tosses them into the pile.

“How did she talk us into this?”

“Never underestimate a woman,” Eclipse mutters; watching Sara move to another booth.

“Like Moira?”

“She is the worse kind,”

“A pretty one,”

“It saddens me that men like you exist.”

“So, what’s the relation between you and the kid?”

“She is an orphan; Moira tends to collect the downtrodden to heal broken wings. Now we are stuck with her until we can return her to another relative.”

“Got anyone in mind?”

“Why does it concern you?”

“Just making conversation. So, is Moira your master or something?”

“My what? You insolent pup!” He swats at Chris’s stomach, “if anything I am her master!”

“That’s not how I see it.”

“For your information, I promised her father I will train her in the Mage Arts. Once her training is complete, I am to return her home—in one piece I might add so she can…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Where is she?” his voice quivers as he stares at the mirror, she was standing minutes before. “Sara? Where is Sara?” Chris scans the tables, the pigtails nowhere in sight.

“Eclipse! Help me!”

His growl prickles his skin; dredging a primal fear to the surface. It urges him to act and dread the person who faces it. Chris steps onto a barrel, gripping the pole of a tent, and surveys the crowd. There, a hairy stranger throws Sara over his shoulder and races through the market. Without hesitation Eclipse darts into the crowd; pointed ears twitching as they locate the cries.

But the afternoon is prime shopping time, meaning buyers and sellers occupy every inch of space. He pushes his way through, in a vain attempt to follow, but swimming against the tide is more efficient than that. He gets his bearings in an empty alleyway, free from the chatter and shouting, he’s finally able to think. And a dilapidated fence is his answer.

Careful to avoid the rusty nails jutting from the planks, he hoists himself up and titters along the top until he reaches the nearby roof. From atop the crooked surface, he spies the panther chasing the kidnapper. He races through the streets as if he’s running through a forest, avoiding people, market stalls as if they’re trees. The creature is built for speed, but Chris knows the maze of Lollardum like the back of his hand. He follows alongside, leaping over narrow gaps trying to keep pace with his worthy competitor.

He sprints over the shingle rooftops, around chimneys piping grey smoke, and ducking under slanted clothes lines. The streets intersect and overlap, making it easy to backtrack and lose the pursuer. His arms ache, for the second time that day, he scales uneven rotting walls. Wobbly slate tiles slip under his feet, causing him to lose his balance more than once. But the kidnapper races on, entering the narrowest streets, and leaving the market behind. When the thief turns into an abandon alley, he knows there’s only one place he’s going to end up.

An arrow whizzes across his nose. He stumbles backward, far enough to notice the archer in the royal livery standing at the edge of the roof. He smirks, its fitting the royal colours are that of dirt and piss. Pulling another arrow from the bottom of his quiver, he primes it along the string. It speeds towards him as he ducks; rolling out of the way.

Why is he posted here? He surveys the area; nothing is worth defending. But there’s the gaping hole where the Cathedral once stood. Heaps of rubble and beams pile high in the center of the crumbling towers. The aging stone splatters black from the ashes; the pristine marble now mare by fervor. Crouching, he ducks to the right, and circles the stack until he’s behind the archer.

As he creeps closer, he catches a whiff of sweat mixed with soot. The lithe archer pauses at every corner, his bow taught and his arrow at the ready. Chris follows, step by step, the prey hunting the predator. A loose tile catches his attention, he grins. Plucking the ceramic piece, he lifts it high above him; smashing it over the soldier’s head. He grunts, falls forward, and smashes against the chimney. As he reaches for the man’s purse the tile underneath betrays him, shuffles out of place, sending Chris rolling backward.

He's weightless before landing on something hard and lumpy. Clutching his head, his vision comes into focus. Short planks block his view but the huff of an annoyed horse tells him he’ll live. Baskets of potatoes jab into his back and flakes of onion skins sticks to his sweaty palms. At his feet are bags of wool gathered in neat bundles. Missed it by that much, he mutters peeling himself from the produce.

“Chris?” Moira appears at the end of the cart, her braid hanging over her shoulder. “What are you doing in there?”

“Hey Moira, what’s new?” The ruins of the Cathedral stand in the background. He should’ve guessed she’ll end up here. After all the building was an important goal of countless pilgrimages back in the day. It’s a shame, he thinks recalling the night it was set afire. He barely got out alive. “Giving a little prayer to the cathedral I see.”

“More like my condolences. Why are you on top of the vegetables?”

“Oh, you know, just making sure the produce isn’t bruised.” He climbs from the baskets. “Hey you look good, less… wrathful.”

“Where’s Eclipse and Sara?”

“Oh, the grumpy cat and the kid, well…” he glances around the street, trying to get his bearings.

“Chris, where are my companions?”

“Don’t you go worrying your pretty head, we got this under control. It's fine,” he flashes another award-winning smile before racing towards the alleyway.

“I am far from reassured,” she bites back, running beside him.

The cramp alley reeks of garbage and vomit. He brushes past the grimy walls with Moira close behind. She’s silent, stepping where he steps, at times he feels her breath on his neck. A man didn’t need a second shadow, and her approach reminds him of being hunted. He didn’t know whether she’ll kill him if they fail to reclaim Sara. And the longer he’s close to her staff the more dangerous it becomes.

The sunshine bounces off the walls at obscure angles, making it difficult to see. Crates and suspended clothes lines create monsters at the corner of his eyes. A growl seeps from the darkness ahead of them. He jumps as her thin fingers squeeze his shoulder, reminding him to slow his pace. Turning the corner, he spots the man standing in the small space barely big enough for the group. He brings his finger to his lips, instructing her to remain as he goes ahead. But she follows, pressing against him as they crouch behind a stack of crates.

The kidnapper struggles to control the inconsolable child slung over his shoulder. He fights against the kicking, rolling, and squirming under his thick arms. Blocking his escape is Eclipse, a slinky black form in the shadows. His golden eyes catch the pocket of light. The situation teeters, ready to go sideways at any moment. He motions for her to stay back. He never worked with a Mage before, either it’ll be a fun escape from the usual or go terribly wrong.

“He won’t bite unless he’s told too,” Chris steps into the cramped courtyard. The kidnapper’s only choice, is a sliding range from pain to lethal; is either through Eclipse or Moira. The thief faces him, placing Sara on the ground. When she calls for Eclipse, he shakes her until she stops. A frown tugs at his lips; the high forehead and dumb expression belongs to someone he goes out of his way to avoid. A man his old gang boss hires for the less reputable work. “Alright Artie, return the girl; she isn't worth it.”

“Are ya nuts? She’s ten gold pieces easy,” Artie wipes the sweat from his oily face with the back of his filthy sleeve. “If ya help me get her to Flann, I’ll split it sixty forty.”

“I know this is just business, and you do owe me the coins, but I’m telling you, you want no part of this.”

“Is the great Chris O’Connell afraid of a witty bitty girl?”

“I’m not little!”

“Shut up!” When Artie shakes her, he hears Moira shuffle in the shadows.

“Nah, nothing like that. It’s just I know for a fact this kid, in particular, has friends in high places.”

“How high?”

“A Mage,”

“Bullshit,” Artie spits on the ground, “they know their place, I ain’t afraid of them.”

“Would I lie to you? Seriously man. Let the girl go and we’ll both get out of this alive.”

“Nah, no way. You gotta give me some proof before I go n’ do anythin.” As if on cue, Moira emerges from the shadows. Chris grins as she approaches Artie with the imposing majesty, he expects from someone like her. Artie’s eyes glance at the shimmering Opal. “You the Mage?”

“I am, now give her to me.”

He straightens his back making himself look taller. But she moves forward, eyeing Eclipse who sits patiently for a command. Artie tightens his grip on Sara’s collar, pulling out a small knife with his free hand. Glistening from a thick oily finger is a ring with a vibrant violet stone. The knot in Chris’s stomach twists, he’s seen that stone before. And it didn’t end well for the Mage.

“Take your best shot!”

“You’ll regret this,” she responds, raising the weapon over her head, arm’s length from Artie who smirks.

“Don’t use magic!”

But a mischievous smirk crosses her face before smashing her staff on Artie’s shoulder. A cracking sound mixes with Artie’s scream echoes before he collapses to the ground writhing in pain. Sara escapes, crying uncontrollably, and clinging to Moira’s waist.

“Effective,” Eclipse remarks as he steps over Artie’s sniveling form.

“He got what he wanted,” she replies, then turns to Chris, “I hope you two weren’t close.”

“Not anymore,” There’s other thieves to make deals with. Probably ones who pay him back on time.

“I would ask what happened, but I don’t think I want to know,” she motions to Sara who hangs her head. “Thanks for going after her, most people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“I’m not like most people,” he whispers.

“I will determine that.” Eclipse tugs on her cloak, pulling her towards the exit.

“Have dinner with me,” he calls after her, “at the cliffs, outside Lollardum.” Eclipse drops the cloak, unable to find the words to protest. But Moira smiles.

“No.”

“No?” he’s taken aback, but not defeated, “I don’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m not like most people,” she smirks. “Goodbye Chris, it was nice meeting you.”