Princess of Thieves

Duck.

The branch hit my face anyway, its knobby bits scratching at my cheeks. Then another one hit me, and another. I ran into that forest knowing that it would be hell for me, but the important part was that it was hell for him too. I could hear every time a branch hit his face, far behind us, grunting and yelling with frustration.

Snapping branches and the rustling of leaves came from right beside me, too. I knew Jared was slowing himself down to let me keep up, and I would’ve felt guilty about it if there was time to feel anything at all besides the adrenaline pumping through my legs. That, and the backpack that bounced with each leap I took, rattling the precious contents inside. Jared’s backpack rattled too, but in a different way. More like children’s woodblocks tumbling together.

The shouts of rage were coming closer. All we were doing was making him more mad, and I knew that the chase was coming to its terrifying close. Adrenaline had gotten me this far, but after what seemed like hours, there was only so much my body could do. 

“Jar” I barely managed to pant as we crashed blindly into some weeds. “Gotta. Stop.”

“Not now,” he gritted through his teeth. Being the high school track star was certainly helping him at the moment, but he had been a sprinter. This was the hardest either of us had run in our lives, and if the man behind us caught up, there wouldn’t be an opportunity to try and run any faster.

I usually had something snarky to tell my friend, but there was no time to talk back, so I listened. My heart started to sink, and suddenly my legs were being sucked by invisible quicksand. I felt like I was drowning in the leaves and the darkness in slow motion, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the grass outside of the forest and cry beneath the full moon and the stars. It was better out in the open, at least when I wasn’t being chased by a delusional lunatic.

The rustling behind us began to slow down and grow farther away, but maybe that was just my imagination. I started coughing, and the air that I breathed tasted like blood and stung with each intake. Tears started streaming from my eyes, though I had no idea whether it was from the twigs that kept slapping me or from my feeling of utter despair.

Jared grabbed my arm and gave it a hard yank. In a flash, we were both inside of a miniature cavern, carved into an outcrop of rock that we had been running beside for most of the time. It was large enough to fit both of us and our cargo, but not much else. A thin sheet of hanging vegetation worked as a curtain, but even in the darkness, the man could probably still find us, with our reddened, terrified faces and obscenely loud breathing. Moonlight sparkled off of the streams of sweat on Jared’s brow. There were beads of it that stuck to the tips of his cropped hair like blonde grass with morning dew. It made him look like a little kid, especially now.

“Jared what are we doing?” I whispered in a panic. We couldn’t stay here, but darting out of the cavern could be dangerous too if he was anywhere near.

He shushed me and wiped the droplets of sweat that had gathered on his nose and brow with his white t-shirt, which was already soaked.

“Izzy, listen,” he said, still trying to catch his own breath. “We gotta split up.”

Apparently, the adrenaline had made my friend more of an idiot than usual. This was already a horror flick in real life, and we were just following the script to the bloody end.

“No fucking way, Jar; did you lose your head back there?” I hissed. This was no time to argue, but there was also no way I was letting him out of my sight. “We have to get there first, then we can do whatever we want.”

“Izzy, you’re too slow.” Jared always did have a way with words.

“Fuck you. We’re not splitting up,” I seethed. I started to lean out of the cavern, peeking out for any sign of the son-of-a-bitch on our trail. An unlucky breeze started rattling the entire forest; it was impossible to tell whether or not there was anyone out there. He could be behind the tree not five feet away from me, for all I knew.

Jared grabbed my arm again. I hated when he did that.

“Will you just listen, Iz?” he demanded, and dragged me back inside the cavern, where I almost fell on top of him. My breath was starting to come normally to me again, but my tongue was still dry and scratchy with the leftover taste of salt and terror.

“I know you don’t want to split up, but if we don’t we’re dead. Now listen very carefully. I’m gonna run east and take the roundabout way there. Take these,” he insisted, reaching into his backpack and handing me half of the contents. There were roman candles, mines, horsetails and spiders; the typical spread of fireworks that you’d find in the sky on the Fourth of July, which wasn’t too long ago. I reluctantly stuffed his spare lighter into my pocket and started stuffing my bag with the canisters.

“I’m gonna set one off first, early on so the bastard knows exactly where I am. Then you’re gonna start running north and you’re gonna keep running straight until you get there. When you hear my first firework going off, you wait ten seconds and set up another one to distract him. He doesn’t know which one of us has your backpack, so we’re gonna work that to our advantage until we’re safe.”

God, Jared was talking about a suicide mission. Our goal, once so clear, was now definitely not worth turning my friend into human bait. We didn’t exactly plan on running into this particular complication, but we had to deal with it.

Was that a rustle I heard?

“Jared please, I’m not gonna let you…” I started to whisper, quieter than before.

He cut me off. “Go, Isabella. Once we’re there, we won’t have to worry about anything, you hear me? We’ll be fine.” In the darkness, I could only tell where his face was by the feel of his breath on my face. It smelled like the pastries we had munched on only hours before, laughing over the plan and how smooth it would go. Our foreheads connected, and I shut my eyes for a brief moment. The next, Jared was gone, headed east.

Minutes passed, and then more rustlings came from the west. He was so close I could see his outline, garbed in a baggy black hoodie and bent over with his hands clutching his knees. He was panting just as hard as we had, but he quickly stood up straight again, ready to continue his mission. Though my body was screaming for air and to find water, I clamped both hands over my mouth and took shallow breaths through my nose. He wasn’t supposed to be here; once again, complications had cropped up in the plan.

I was tempted to shout with joy when I heard Jared’s first firework go off, hundreds of feet away. Life-saving red stars blinked in the sky, followed by friendly fizzles. The man cursed loudly and began sprinting in the direction of the disintegrating lights. I waited until the sounds of his footsteps became faint, then swallowed my fears and launched myself from the small cavern with my backpack, running farther and farther away from my friend.

After a minute, I threw my bag on the ground and yanked out a roman candle. This should get his attention. With some of the last of my strength, I threw the butt of the cylinder toward the ground, sinking pointed stick jutting out at the bottom into the dirt. Light, catch, run. By the time lines of light sparkled in the sky, I was far, far away. I was, however, close enough to hear a deep voice from before curse into the night. He knows he’s being tricked.

The bastard was beginning to become stupid. I could hear his promises of revenge from miles away, and I slowed to a walk to take a break. Anger was changing him; he was usually silent and calculating. I shook my head. If he was capable of changing like this, there was no way of telling whether or not my destination was even safe anymore. I didn’t want to think of what would happen if that were the case.

The edge of the forest came to meet me in seconds, and soon I was out in the field again, out in the dangerous open. This last mile was the most dangerous. I spotted Jared up ahead of me. He was right; I am slow, enough so that he had time to circle around the trail and still end up ahead of me. He was trying to sprint, but at this point, we were both spectacularly failing. I caught up to him and pushed him forward, making our way toward a long, stone building. Bright, colored lights glowed from each enormous window. It was literally a beacon of hope. In a panic and out of habit, I reached a hand behind me. The backpack was still there, its contents bouncing around. They would find their home soon.

Suddenly, a shout cracked the air like a whip. I was drenched to the bone with sweat, but I still felt a chill.

“HEY!” I didn’t dare look back, but from the sound of it, he was getting closer.

A gunshot rang out into the night. My heart froze and jumped to my throat, choking me. I stopped feeling the burning in my legs. In fact, I stopped feeling them at all. I thought I was flying. Another report slapped my ears. Then another. And another. This guy was a terrible shot, I mean he was just…

BANG. Fifth time’s a charm.

I felt the impact of the bullet hit my backpack, but I didn’t feel any pain, other than the burden of feeling my heart pounding a thousand beats per second and my lungs raking my insides, begging for air. If he hit my spine, I wouldn’t be running. If he hit anything around that, I wouldn’t be running much longer. After a few more seconds of running, I stopped panicking quite as much. Something in my bag had saved me.

“Almost there,” Jared attempted to say. He was right. The church began to loom over us, giving away its true size and awe-striking beauty. Out in the middle of nowhere, it stuck out like a dazzling but sore thumb, but it was the pride and joy of the locals. Stained glass windows depicting saints were lit by a dull glow of the yellow light from the inside, and I saw the one of Saint Anthony stare down at me with obsidian pupils.

Only feet away, I stuck my palms out like a battering ram and slammed into the large wooden doors, sending a jolt up to my shoulders.

We made it.

The priest, a tall, solemn, and balding man, was just finishing up the final blessings before the congregation when Jared and I tumbled through the entrance, falling to our knees from exhaustion. Children started running toward us, while the adults whipped their heads around and gawked at us. The priest stopped mid-sentence and stared at us in shock.

“What is this?” he asked quietly. He started to walk down the aisle to us, colored robes flowing behind him. His black dress shoes clicked on the stone tile floor, and he held out his hands, as if he were already blessing us.

Jared spoke before I could catch my breath.

“We have… your lost belongings.”

When the priest looked to Jared with a bewildered expression, I tore the backpack off my back. The bullet had torn into the fabric. I reached inside and pulled out a smaller bag made of black velvet, untouched by the bullet.

I told the priest to cup his hands, and poured dozens of tiny, brilliant, and previously stolen diamonds into them.

“I don’t understand…” the priest stuttered. I finally caught my breath and explained.

“The man shouting outside,” I croaked. The man I was talking about had caught up with us at last, but instead of entering the church to finish his mission, he stayed outside, screaming profanities from a safe distance. When the priest shook his head in confusion, I took a deep breath, and explained everything.

“He has theophobia,” I continued.

“A fear of God?” the priest asked.

I nodded my head. “That, and all things related. Religious people, churches. For him, though, it’s less of a fear and more of a hatred.”

“How do you know?” By that time, the entire congregation had gathered around us, whispering and giving us suspicious glances. Most of them were pointing at the priest’s hands, still holding the diamonds. Some peoples’ faces started to light up, and the whispering became more and more excited and joyful.

 

“Hatred makes thieves, not fear,” I answered. “Hatred is why he stole your diamonds, hoping to make your lives miserable, one piece of property at a time. I understand that many of you lost your jobs recently,” I started speaking directly to the congregation, whose suspicious glances became incredulous stares. “Out here, away from any major cities, it’s harder to find a new job when the old ones disappear. You were on the verge of selling everything, even wedding rings.”

One by one, the married women of the congregation touched the bottom of their left ring fingers, rubbing the pale dents where jewels used to rest.

The man outside was finally beginning to show signs of exhaustion, and for a moment there was actual silence. One of the men in the crowd volunteered to call the police, and it wasn’t long before I heard the wailing sirens, the grunts of a short-lived fist fight, and the screeching of tires as the man I had just run from for days on end disappeared into the night like a bad dream. I couldn’t tell if it was another drop of sweat or a tear falling from Jared’s cheek.

A look of relief spread across the priest’s face, and he nodded in approval. He slid the gems back into the bag, and I began to take out items that were more unique and identifiable. There were gold earrings, watches, and even statues. Smiles lit up from all around me, and one by one, the people of the little church got their property back. Jared was smiling too, and sat back to watch me hand the last few items out.

“Something was lost, and was indeed found,” Jared muttered, half to himself. He was looking at the stained glass image of Saint Anthony too.

“Thank you, Saint Anthony, for looking around,” I finished the saying, and the priest finally cracked a smile. Anyone in the congregation who was still lost before that point had now caught up, and joyful murmurs were getting louder and louder.

At last, I pulled out a cross from the bottom of the backpack. It was an inch or two bigger than the palm of my hand, made of dark brown, polished wood, inlaid with gold and tiny gemstones. And there, in the very center, was a 9 mm bullet, squashed and completely imbedded into the wood.

“That was a gift I received when I was travelling,” an old man said. He was right in front of me the whole time, and I could tell the cross was his before he said anything from the way his spotted head twitched. He gave me a smile using just the wrinkles around his eyes. “Keep it.”

“What?” I said.

“When I was in England, I saved a man’s life and he gave me that cross in return. Said he made it from a branch of the Major Oak in Sherwood Forest.”

I started to laugh aloud. Major Oak. The fabled hideout of Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. I turned the beautiful cross over in my hands while Jared, the priest, and the others looked on with confusion.

The old man and I locked eyes with our secret understanding.

“You were meant to have it,” he said, and stepped back in case I had any objections. I didn’t.

Jared coughed awkwardly when it became clear that he and the others weren’t going to get an explanation of what happened from me or the old man. In his usual way, he clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention, hopped to his feet, and spoke in his larger-than-life voice.

“Anyone want to see some fireworks?”