by Ryan Brenner

Created on: March 05, 2010

This excerpt is a brief flashback portion of a novel entitled The Street Thief’s Apprentice.  An ancient medieval order has hidden a mysterious treasure.  A group of thieves is searching for it, but Simon (a member of the thieves) has just revealed that he is the long lost son of the deceased leader of the order.  This is the memory Simon has of the last time he saw his father.

Nine years earlier:

The captain was in front of the stable tightening the reins on the horse standing faithfully in the torrent of rain.  He had to move quickly.  The Friar was fading fast, everyone in Torina knew it.  One of the others was sure there was a spy.  The captain had thought as much, but the thought of it made his insides clench with sickness.  He hated to leave; his wife had died three days earlier from the terrible plague that had ravaged the small town.  The loss still made his heart ache.  He pulled again on the reins checking to see if they had the proper give.  He had to go.  He would get what he needed and return; an hour no more.  An hour would be enough time.  Lightning reached like skeletal fingers across the sky again as thunder roared through the valley. 

“Papa,” a voice called from the door of the small house.

“Simon go back inside,” called the captain through the pounding rain.

“Papa don’t go.  Please don’t go to the church.  The sick people are there,” said the young boy.

The captain walked his horse to the door.

“Simon I must go.  It is important for all of us.  Friar Marsone has something, something very important.”  He knelt he was now face to face with the small boy.  “Simon there are bad men, and we must stop them.  We must defeat what is wrong; sometimes in order to do that we must sacrifice.  Do you understand?” 

The boy’s head dropped slowly, “No,” he protested again.

“Simon we must stop them.  But, to stop them we must show courage.  Courage son, can you show that for me?”

The boy drew himself up, and forced a small nod.

“One day,” the captain continued, “you will understand.  You will see why it was so important.  You will stop the bad men too.  When it is time,” he said the last few words in a whisper.  He looked at the young boy for a long moment.  He was young, too young to deal with the tragedy of the last three days, and then to have this placed on him was just too much.  The captain turned his head away for a moment gazing across the fields.  It was time.  He had to be strong he had to do this for both of them.  With that decided captain hugged his son tightly, “One hour, I will come back in one hour.”

The boy could only nod.  The captain climbed into the saddle, and rode off.  At the gate he stopped, and turned to the boy still standing in the doorway, a blurred figure through the sheets of water falling from the heavens.  With one final wave to his son the captain’s silhouette was lost to the angry rain and thundering sky.

The young boy ran inside, and pulled the hour glass from the mantle above the fire.  He turned it over and slowly the sand began to fall.

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