When the moons had climbed to their apex in the cross-hatched bands of stars, Brayden stood on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ancient temple of Pahnkra Taan. His jaw hung agape awestruck by the size and splendor of the Empyran house of the holy.

Pahnkra Taan sat on a square piece of fertile land that stretched out a quarter of a mile in all directions. Its weathered stone towers stabbed through the humid air in neat clusters at each of the cardinal points. Outside of the temple walls sat a wide moat wrapping Pahnkra Taan on in its protective embrace.

“Getting in’s gonna be rough.” Brayden observed each of the four massive stone bridges spanning the moat. “One for each side and a huge river that’s probably swarming with the gods know what.”

Brayden crept down to a line of underbrush still several dozen paces away from one of the bridges. He sat in patient silence and waited.

“How are things on the southern wall?” he heard a passing guard inquire of his off-going companion.

The muscular knight shrugged. “All has been quiet here.”

The shorter on-coming guard nodded and took up his post at the far end of the stone bridge. “Very well. There should still be some dinner left in the great hall if you get there quick.”

Brayden jogged up to the set of steps nearest to him and crouched behind one of the two stone towers flanking either side. A bright flame danced in a metal bowl near the top of the stately structures. He snuck down below the bridge to the moat’s bank to get a better view of the bridge’s underbelly. It was hewn from large slabs of smooth stone that yielded no foothold.

Long wooden beams formed support structures for their catwalks along the parapets on either side. Not ideal, but it’ll have to do.

Brayden pulled a thin tubular device from his coat pocket and took aim at the beam near the far bank. In an instant, his grappling device sank deep into the wooden beam. The guard of the Order strode to the bridge’s parapet and glanced over the side. Nothing stirred in the light fog swirling over the water’s black surface.

The thief wrapped the tube of his grappler around the support beam over his head and tied it off. Having double checked to ensure that the guard posed no threat, Brayden grabbed onto the cable, locked his feet around it, and shimmied upside down beneath the unsuspecting knight. He passed one boney hand over the other, propelling his athletic frame down the cord. Something gurgled in the stagnant waters below causing him to halt his infiltration near the midway point of the span.

He looked down in time to catch a glimpse of a gray scaly form gliding through a blanket of green muck on the moat’s surface. The thief continued along his cable until solid ground was under him once more.

“What’s your report from the south?” a deep and commanding voice inquired overhead.

Brayden eased his boots onto the grassy bank and slithered under the bridge’s abutment to the shore.

“Two hours until sunrise,” the guard said, “and all is well, sir.”

Brayden clenched his teeth. Damn it.

“Thank you,” the watch captain said. His leather boots clopped off toward the next corner. “As you were.”

The guard snapped to attention and held. Moments later, his telltale steps tromped across the bridge in the opposite direction. Brayden curled up against the stone and timed the two patrols nearest to his current position. The watchman above him took thirty-five seconds to make his rounds. His colleague inside the wall on the alley circled back around every twenty.

This is going to get a little dicey. He surveyed the temple’s interior for a dark corner to hide. Food crates, to the well, and then we’re in.

As soon as the knight on the bridge crossed the midway point, Brayden snuck up to the corner of the entryway into Pahnkra Taan’s inner sanctum. The road guard made his turn at the distant end of the narrow street and began an about face.

“He’s two seconds early.” Brayden darted for the stacked wooden crates to his left. He slid in behind the boxes as the guard finished his maneuver.

The rookie crook braced for the cries of his intrusion. Soft footsteps padded down the street toward the massive stone archway undisturbed. Brayden peeked through a crack in the slats and watched the young knight march to the center of the entrance, spin on his heels, and step off back from whence he came. When he felt that the time was right, he made a break for the water well twenty paces ahead. Brayden glanced over his shoulder to check on the guard’s advance from the bridge.

“Still on the far side.” Brayden crept to the petite doors of the tower across the street and disappeared inside.

Finding his way around the maze of corridors of the temple had been a chore. While they hadn’t posted as much security on the inside, getting lost still eroded a lot of what little time remained. Brayden found himself deep in the bowels of the timeless temple striding along a wide corridor. Along its walls, like many of the others, tall carvings of their elven gods depicted various periods in Tylessian history. He crept toward the twin wooden doors at the end of the hall and tugged one open. Brayden cringed as the aged iron hinges groaned in defiance.

“Being busted by a pair of rusty hinges,” he whispered toward the ironwork. “That would be just my luck.”

The criminal paused for a few breaths to ensure that no one stirred on the far side of the door. Acrid dankness drifted to his nostrils on gentle puffs of air from within, but no living thing moved.

Brayden glared at the guilty hinge as he shut the door. “No thanks to you.”

What lay beyond left the young thief in a state of disbelief. This chamber stretched upward to the top of the dome-shaped structure, its top wrought from a translucent crystal of some type. Cirso’s dying silver light cast a radiant cone that deformed across the carpeted floor of the sacred hall. Three of the walls depicted one of the Order of Empyra’s subgroups in huge elegant murals.

“How?” The detail and craftsmanship defied his vocabulary.

To his left, the carved image of a lean, proud knight stood in black gleaming armor. An intricate pattern of small stars twinkled by some unseen light source upon the warrior’s breastplate. A long crimson banner above the Empyran knight declared his sect: Constellation of Sygnus, god of Shadows. The warrior, Brayden noted, wielded a bloody dagger in one hand and a rolled scroll in the other. He walked to the adjacent wall curious to unearth more about this secretive group. To his surprise, Brayden found the image of a female warrior – a plant in one fist and a vile in her other hand. This wall’s banner read: Constellation of Nira, goddess of Health. The final mural showcased a barbaric brute holding either end of the chain he’d snapped in the middle: Constellation of Xaxris, god of Might.

“More treasures for another time.” Brayden trotted to the rectangular door to the right of Nira’s image. He cursed as he fumbled with the antiquated locking mechanism. “No wonder there aren’t any guards in here.” He wiggled the thin metal pick in the keyhole. “These old devices are likely rusted shut.”

He felt the pick jab at something worn and riddled with rust.

“Just a bit more to the left.”

He pressed the instrument against the right side of the keyhole and manipulated it in gentle motions.

CLICK.

Brayden turned the locking bolt clockwise and the door surrendered.

A faint cone of daylight crept over the treetops out of the window. He had to get this thing and get out. He took light steps across the stone floor toward the waist-high pedestal at the room’s center. A small metallic sphere slumbered on a round, silky red pillow. As Brayden drew his hands around the small shpere, it put off an intensifying blue light.

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” he said, pulling his hands away. The light receded leaving the chrome ball as it lay before.

He closed his fingers around both sides of the object half-expecting the glowing light to shock him to death. It hummed in rebellion as his fingers curled around the artifact.

“Shit,” he said, pulling back quickly again.

His mouth felt like cotton. The tension squeezed beads of sweat from his forehead. “I don’t have time for this.”

He edged his right hand in close to the glowing orb and plucked in from the perch. Much to his relief, the object did nothing other than pulse in his grasp.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said, eyeing the relic, “but I can’t have you acting like this right now.” The polished metal sphere was no larger than his palm and was adorned with intricate engravings of an ancient tongue. He stuffed it into an inner coat pocket and ran back out the way he came. “Nothing personal.”

When Brayden emerged from the temple, several birds sang their greetings to the coming dawn. The eastern horizon had already begun to turn a hue of bright orange.

“Not good,” the bandit groaned as he jogged to northern gate of Pahnkra Taan.

Two knights stood at the foot of the bridge conducting their watch turnover for the day. Why can’t it ever go off without a hitch?

“I think we might have a rodent problem,” one of the Order said.

“Why so?” his relief asked.

Some armor and metal clanked around the wall.

“I’ve heard tell from several of the other brothers of crates shuffling about, bread missing, and the like.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” the relief said. “If it is rodents, I’ve got a sister in Harmony Valley. Her cat just had a litter.”

They shared in a chuckle and parted company. “Why don’t you come in for another glass of brew before you start? There’s nothing going on anyway.”

The knight’s relief plodded behind him. “Point taken, brother. The only thing I’ll probably see on this watch is the creature in the moat.”

Brayden tiptoed to the stone corner and inched his head around for a glimpse. The two knights meandered along the walkway in the direction of their mess hall oblivious to his presence. His blue stare twitched to the long empty bridge over the still moat.

“Looks as good as it’s gonna get,” he said, leaning forward on the balls of his feet.

Brayden darted up the shallow stairs and onto the stone bridge. His gray trench coat flapped in his wake as he sprinted for the far side. So far, so g—

“There!” a voice bellowed from high above. “On the North Bridge. Intruder!”

“Halt, halt!” the nearby returning guards cried.

Brayden leaped over the steps on the far side of the bridge and turned to gauge the advance of his assailants. One of the knights appeared older than the other and lagged several strides behind his counterpart.

“He’ll give up before he makes it here,” Brayden surmised, running for the shallow stone wall to his left. “The other one won’t give up as easily.”

“Stop!” the younger knight exclaimed. Brayden heard the guard’s boots impact the dirt and rock at the end of the bridge.

His gray coat got hung up on the jagged edge of a stone atop the wall as Brayden straddled it. “Come on, come on.”

Three arrows thwipped into a tree to the right of the crook’s head as he tugged his garment free.

“He’s going into the graveyard,” he heard a distant voice declare.

Brayden felt the young guard’s presence at this back. The boy was fast and persistent.

“You there!”

Brayden spun around and shuffled backward through the matted grass and decay in the cemetery. His pursuer took a few more paces toward him and stopped.

“Give it up, thief.”

By the sound of his voice, Brayden pegged the guard to be about his age. The knight wore the traditional black armor of the Order, leather boots, and a red cape fastened to either shoulder. A miniscule constellation of diamonds shimmered on his polished breastplate.

“We have you surrounded,” the knight said, pulling his short sword from its scabbard.

Brayden studied the knight’s stern brown glare. They surrendered no sign of fear. This warrior meant business.

“You can come peacefully, or --”

The criminal turned and ran for a leaning obelisk several rows back.

“Damn,” the guard said, weaving between the headstones of his fallen brethren in pursuit.

The knight set one black leather boot over the other as he rounded the tall cracked monument. He clenched his sword in a death grip as he pounced around the corner.

“Where in the world?” A searing pain radiated from the back of the knight’s head as his vision filled with tiny stars.

Brayden watched as the guard slumped to his knees in the mud and then shoved him forward onto his face. “Consider yourself lucky. It could’ve been worse.”

He dragged the limp form behind the row of headstones and made a fast break for the forest to the east and the way back to the train station. With any luck, he would lose any overzealous warriors in the glade’s solace.