The Fear of Failure

  The cold night wind blew against his sweat-drenched face as he ran, the large bundle tucked neatly under his arm. Behind him the shouts of his pursuers rent the night air, holding fast on his tail as he turned a maze out of the numerous streets and alleys of the inner city. His legs ached, his chest stung. He was used to quiet, stealthy escapes, not a full out chase. His body wasn't built for so much running.

  Keenan was a thief; there was no way around that fact. Belonging to the Thieves Guild of Lethenhaile, Keenan was considered one of the greatest thieves alive. He had never failed to complete a mission for the Guild Master, never been unable to snatch whatever item passed his own interests. He had stolen everything from bread as a child on the streets to an ornate ivory statue out of the Queen's own garden. This time, however, he may have dug himself to deep. Shifting the cloth-bound sword under his arm, he shook his head. Stealing the sword of the Hero of Morning was ridiculous. It was a priceless artifact, more guarded that the crown atop the Queen's own head.

  Ducking into an alley, the shadows engulfing him as he did so, Keenan let himself slow to a stop. With laboured breath he leaned against the stone wall. This time he had to have lost the guards. They couldn't chase him forever, not with that heavy armour they wore. Footsteps echoed through the alley, and he watched as guards passed the opening, their silver armour glinting in the light of the moon. Keenan prepared himself to bolt as soon as they passed. No use remaining in one place to be flushed out when they realized that he had disappeared.

  To his dismay a small band of guards turned at the entrance to the alleyway. Keenan didn't wait to see whether they saw him or not. Turning in the opposite direction, he bolted, launching directly into a sprint. Why were they so adamant about getting the sword back? Couldn't they see that Keenan needed that sword? The Guild Master had requested it, for whatever reasons he had, and sent Keenan to retrieve it. He had to get it back to the guild. He couldn't fail. He had never failed.

  With the sound of clanking armor right on his heels, he slid into another alley, this time ripping right through and continuing along the adjacent road beyond. From there he crossed the strip of cobblestones and slipped into another alley only a few feet down the road. He had to stay in the shadows as much as possible. As empty as the city was at that time at night, the light from the moon made running the streets a futile effort. The guards had already shown themselves to be as fast as him, however they could manage that with the extra weight in armour they were carrying. His only hope of escape was to hide. He couldn't lead his pursuers directly to the Guild of Thieves, and he couldn't continue running until he reached the city walls. Surrender. Keenan bit down on the thought. He couldn't surrender. Failure was not an option.

  In the far distance a wolf howled, the noise filling the night sky. The light from the moon seemed to shine brighter, igniting the road ahead, silver fire licking the cobblestones. Keenan frowned as he pulled into yet another alleyway. Why had he chosen tonight to steal the Hero's Sword? He knew better than to steal something so heavily guarded under the light of a full moon. How could he let such a large slip take hold of him? The sound of his leather boots pounding against the stone seemed to ring in his ears.

  Coming to the end of the alleyway, Keenan found himself pressed against the wall of the inner city. The housed pressed up against the thick stone barrier, creating an effective entrapment. His only choices were to turn around or climb the wall. Both were dangerous. Turning to run back out of the alley, he saw an approaching guard hurtle into the alleyway. His mind was made. With a leap he grabbed onto the jagged stones and began spidering up the wall.

  He reached the top of the wall quickly enough, the barricade not built to stop citizens from climbing over it. The real peril lay on the other side. The wall merged with the face of a cliff a third of the way down, and one hundred feet below him sat the roofs of the outer city. The inner city was on a butte, a large rise surrounded by cliffs. In the past - or so he had read in a history book he once stole - the cliffs had acted as a last defense against invading armies. Now it stood between Keenan and escape.

  Swallowing the slight fear he had for heights, Keenan tightened his hold on the bundled sword and flung himself over the side of the wall, his hand catching a jutting stone. He swung, the muscles in his hand straining as his body tried to fall further. Balancing himself, Keenan began to scale the wall. Once at the bottom he would be safe. Scaling the vertical drop in armor would be suicide. The guards wouldn't follow him.

  He reached the cliffs and made the transition to natural wall smoothly. Crawling down as cautiously as his haste would allow, Keenan breathed a sigh of relief when his boots hit the roof of one of the houses pressed against the cliff face. Quickly he sped over to the edge of the roof and slid over to hang one-handed from the tiles. With a grunt he let himself drop to the alley below. He was safe now. The guards would have to climb the stairs to reach the lower city, and by then Keenan would be long gone. Except, he thought with a slight tinge of regret, the Guild was in the inner city. No worry, he reasoned to himself. I'll just make my way up there in the daily crowds.

  He knew the plan was foolish - there would be a watch placed for anyone with an oblong bundle matching the vague description they must have of him - but he knew he could pull it off. He had done more difficult stunts before. Besides, he thought as he began making his way out of the alley, They never got a good look at-

  At the end of the alleyway appeared a man, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His silver armor shone as he slowly he drew the blade and began making his way forward. The night-watch must have spotted him scaling the walls. They had been waiting for him!

  Turning, Keenan slipped through a tight slot between houses, sucking in his chest in order to do so. It was a tight squeeze, but in mere moments he had popped out the other side and was running for the road. Cursing under his breath at the sight of the same guard standing at the alley entrance, Keenan forced his legs to work faster. As he approached the man he threw his legs forward, his body plummeting to the cobblestones. In a cloud of dust Keenan slid under the guard's sword arm and escaped through the other side, leaping to his feet victoriously.

  To his dismay a gauntleted hand closed around his forearm. Instinctively Keenan began to flail his limbs, pulling and thrusting frantically, but the man would not let go. The bundle fell out from under Keenan's arm. Despairingly he gave a loud shout. He could not be captured. He was Keenan! He couldn't fail!

  As he struggled, more guards appeared around him. Shackles enveloped his wrists and unceremoniously he was pulled to the ground. Tears welling up in his eyes, Keenan wept. Despite his efforts, his skill and expertise in the craft of thievery, Keenan had failed.