Normal joking aside, I've something more serious to address.
It's come to my attention that someone has been taking Black Legacies, and posting it elsewhere without my permission. I'm not sure exactly how much was posted, or when, but whoever is doing this, I urge you to please stop if you haven't already. I think that I speak for all authors when I say that our stories are written for the enjoyment of the readers, not for those who would steal the credit.
This said, I've decided to re-write the first several chapters. The grammar was generally bad, and this should give me a chance to correct and flesh it out a bit. I've been meaning to do this for a while, but truth be told I cringe every time that I have to look back at it. -.-; I'll try not to let this affect the normal updates (well, no more than life usually interrupts them), but I'm hoping that they won't take so long to fix, since they're already written. Except the first chapter or two. I hate them.
This chapter's a long one. I suppose that I could have broken it down into two chapters, but I decided against it. Hold on, and be prepared for frequent changes of POV. You have been warned. :D
Zion's POV:
I sat morosely with my back against the hard stone wall, watching Kaelin's unmoving form at my feet. We were in a cell of some sort; we could see out the same as anyone could see in, but a few inches of solid iron grillwork insured that while the guards patrolling the corridors could come and go as they pleased, we were here for the long haul. The floor had been strewn with musty straw that itched unpleasantly when you sat on it, but did something to leach some of the chill out of the stone floor. Two more cells flanked ours on either side; all of them unoccupied save for the one farthest to our left. There a ratty looking man dozed fitfully atop a pile of straw, whimpering slightly and clutching at handfuls of the stuff as he dreamed unpleasant dreams. A lone oil lamp burned steadily in its sconce on the wall, giving off a steady even light that seemed at odds with the depressing atmosphere. At the far end of the room on a stool near the door, a man in temple livery kept watch, his spear leaning casually against his shoulder.
I started to raise my hands to touch my throbbing forehead, then thought the better of it. Heavy iron manacles pinned my wrists together, and the skin was raw and sore where the metal bit into it. I'd been awake for a quarter-hour or so, but Kaelin hadn't so much as stirred yet. Whatever trick her brother had pulled on us, it appeared that she had had the worst of it.
What worried me even more though, was the absence of my dragoon spirit. It only made sense that they'd take it, but the thought sent qualms fluttering through my stomach until I thought that I might be sick. Ry had made it very clear that above all else the temples must not get their hands on the spirits, and yet here we were. I leaned my head back, pressing my cheek against the iron bars beside me. Why was it that whenever I seemed to be getting somewhere in life, something like this had to happen?
At my feet, Kaelin moaned slightly and began to stir. Manacles clinked lightly against the floor as she pushed herself into a sitting position, blinking groggily. "Wha… what-?"She shook her head and a few pieces of straw fell to the floor. "Where are we?"
"Look around. Give you three guesses. And two don't count."
She blinked, then buried her face in her hands. "Arrgh, that bastard! I should've known better than to trust him!"
"I thought that you said you didn't trust him?"
"You know what I mean." She rubbed her cheek sourly, then stared at the manacles as though seeing them for the first time. "Well, it certainly looks like they aren't going to take any chances with us."
I leaned forward, wincing as my spine scraped against the rough stone. "They got my spirit. Yours too?"
Automatically, Kaelin's hands flew to the front of her shirt. She hissed, then let them fall. "Gone."
While she glared at the wall, muttering curses under her breath, I peered through the grille at the other prisoner several cells away. Great. The temples now had possession of both our spirits, and I was locked in a cell with a woman who looked ready to spit nails. Desperately I ranged through my thoughts, looking for something to say that might calm her down.
I was saved of that agony by the arrival of raised voices drifting down the hall. The guard at the door scrambled hurriedly off of his stool, banging the butt of his spear against the floor sharply and coming to attention as two men entered the room, arguing loudly. The first I didn't recognize, but the second, with his dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck and flowing, immaculate blue robes, was unmistakably Lyke. A third trailed them at a respectful distance, lamplight catching on the curves and contours of his black armor as he walked.
Soltrane glanced in my direction as he entered and nodded briefly in recognition before taking his place at the door. At least, he may have nodded. Beyond the occasional reflection of light in his eyes within the depths of the helm, his face was completely hidden by the strip of cloth covering his nose and mouth. The helm didn't look light; the nod may have just been an attempt to adjust the elaborate thing. In any case, I felt my tongue turn to ash.
Her temper forgotten for the moment, Kaelin edged back until she was sitting next to me against the wall. Neither Lyke nor the other man, who was dressed in a priest's green robes, seemed to pay us any mind. They were arguing, and for the first time I saw Lyke's cool façade cracked. The ever-present smile had vanished from his features; now his lips were twisted into a snarl, and his eyes sparked as he spoke.
"I kept my half of the bargain! If you can't see clear-"
"Ah, Lord Alphine," The other man said, "you promised us two-"
"Use your eyes, man!"
"Two men," he finished, putting emphasis on the second syllable. "I only see the one. Until you produce the second man, we have no obligation to carry out the rest of the bargain. When you do produce him, I'll be more than happy to complete the deal."
Next to me, Kaelin smiled thinly. "That will drive him nuts," She whispered, not taking her eyes off of her brother. "He always hates it when things don't go his way."
"What are they giving him?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
To my surprise, Kaelin had one. "Preferred trading status with the Serdian temples. It's potentially worth millions." When I gave her a look, she explained, "He told me just before I went under. Wanted to justify betraying us, I suspect." Her shoulders sagged, but her jaw flexed as she ground her teeth with frustration.
I examined the priest. He was a large man, taller than Lyke, with a square face and fair hair that was combed over a balding patch on the cap of his skull. His frame seemed too large for the robe he wore, and the thin fabric was stretched almost painfully across his shoulders. He looked like the person that would be more at home leaning on a battle-axe rather than a lectern. As he started to speak to Lyke again, explaining something, I leaned over to Kaelin. "So why won't they give it to him?"
"I expect that it was Ry they wanted, not me." She frowned. "At least, I don't think I've done anything to offend them lately…what's so funny?" She asked suspiciously.
I bit my lip to keep myself from grinning. "They need him? But he left this morning to go into the city."
"I know that," she hissed. "You think it's funny? Lyke'll just send some of his strong-arms after him and drag him in! Then where'll we be?"
"Right here, watching your brother chew his nails to the quick over his precious treaty. They won't get him, trust me." Kaelin opened her mouth, but I shook my head and she shut it with an audible 'click'. "He can take care of himself. Besides, if he's still outside then he can work something out, right?"
Kaelin looked skeptical, but thankfully held her tongue. Raking her hair back from her face, she let her breath out in a huff. At the other end of the chamber, Lyke glanced over at us briefly, then changed his manner of approach.
"What about those gemstones that they where carrying? Those weren't a part of the deal."
"I hardly think they hold any importance in the issue, Lord Alphine," the man said dryly. "The matter at hand is, after all, the prisoners."
"Exactly." Lyke's voice was offhand. That slight, knowing smile was back on his features once more, now that he had himself back under control. "And since they had no part in the deal, I see no reason why you should continue to keep them in your possession. I will have-"
The shadow in the corner shifted. A quick step and Soltrane was at the merchant's shoulder, gauntletted fingers digging deep into the hollow below his collarbone. Lyke wasn't exactly a short man; if the dread knight were not in his armor Lyke may well have been the taller of the two; yet under that grip his face paled and he seemed to shrink inward, trying to escape the pressure.
"I think, Lord Alphine, that you've done enough here for the moment." The other man's voice was cold. "If you would kindly see your self out? Or would you rather have the Captain provide you with an escort?"
Soltrane released his grip on Lyke's shoulder and the man pulled away hurriedly. For a moment he locked eyes with the priest, then looked away, nodding curtly as he did so. "I will check back later, Caleb. Please do give my regards to the High Priest, should you see him." He turned on heel, leaving the dungeon with a quick step.
Caleb watched him leave, then dismissed the guard to stand outside in the hallway. With Soltrane following in his shadow like a hound, he came to the front of our cell and peered in through the grill, saying nothing.
Kaelin stirred. "What're you looking at?"
"What indeed." Dipping into the folds of his robes, he withdrew a ring of jingling brass keys that glinted in the lamplight. He handed them to Soltrane with a few muttered words, then turned. "I have matters to deal with above. Captain, I trust that you can take care of affairs here?"
He left quietly, most likely hoping to ketch Lyke lingering in one of the hallways above. Soltrane watched him leave, then slipped the key ring into a niche in the neck of his armor. A stool stood against the far wall; he pulled it up close to the grill and sat, eyes flickering within the shadows of the helm.
The silence stretched. Eventually, I cleared my throat. "Was there a point to this, or did you just intend on sitting there for the rest of the day?" I ventured, pulling a piece of straw out from where it had stuck in my shirt.
Kaelin shifted, her manacles rattling against the grill as she pulled them free. "You really a dread knight? I'd expected something a bit more spectacular then a dog barking at a priest's orders."
"It must seem that way, doesn't it?" he observed. "And were it not that I had already met Damnen, I might have expected someone more than a petty thief as a spirit bearer."
"Touché." Kaelin stretched, her shoulders creaking as she pulled her arms behind her head. "So, you just going to sit there?"
He stirred, and the deep blue cloak hanging from his shoulders rustled. "The temples have grown most curious about the…" he paused, "…source from which you've been obtaining those spirits. I'm supposed to question you as to how and where you found them but I suspect that I won't get an answer out of either of you, am I correct?" When his question was greeted with silence, he chuckled. "I thought so. Then would you permit me to inquire as to why you came to Bale? I thought that you would be trying to cross over the boarder near Hoax, until we caught wind of otherwise."
"I thought you were in Seles," I said, as mildly as I could. It wasn't an easy thing; memories of Kazas still lingered, and the confusion that came with it. It was just like before; he was oddly civil about the whole thing, given the situation. Why was it then that he wasn't leaping at the chance to strike me down like everyone else?
"I was, until some of our scouts were found to the south of Belhalla." He cocked his head slightly to the side. "Dead, but for one. He spoke of a dark man with a sword on horseback. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that as well, would you?"
Belhalla? He must have meant the village where we'd met Kaelin. "Not me."
Soltrane nodded, seeming to accept this, but a second memory had wormed its way into my thoughts. Ry approached slowly on his tired mount, swaying in the saddle as the animal came to a halt. Two more horses were in tow; their reins caught up in his fist. With some difficulty he dismounted, staggering slightly as his feet touched the ground.
"Hey, are you alright?"
He dropped the horses' reins to the ground, letting them wander. "I'll be fine. Had a run-in with a few men from that patrol that passed us earlier." He turned slightly, and the flickering light from the campfire fell across him. His shirt was torn and stained with blood; more was seeping out over his pants.
"Jeez, Ry!" I rifled through my pack as he slumped to the ground, and finding a flask of healing potion, worked the cork out with my teeth. "Don't numbers mean anything to you?"
"I can count, if that's what you mean."
"They could have killed you!"
"I doubt that," he said, pulling his sword awkwardly from its sheath and laying it on the ground beside him. The naked blade was smeared with blood; the crystalline runes running down the length winked in the firelight from amidst the dark mess. "I always give better than I get."
I blinked, then rubbed my eyes with my fists tiredly. I thought that I was beginning to get an idea of why the temples seemed so eager to get their hands on Ry. And how he'd managed to survive for so long.
Ragnarok's POV:
Dart stepped off of the plank, his boots thudding hollowly on the wet wooden dock. /It's a little shaky, but it'll have to do/ He admitted, stepping around a deckhand who was busily coiling ropes. /And we're still counted lucky at that/
//You could have convinced him to leave port sooner. Sunrise is a bit too far off for my tastes//
/It's better than the alternative/
We were walking along the waterfront, weaving through the stacks of crates and barrels that crowded the docks and much of the street. The merchant ships were beginning to arrive, hopeful to catch the first of the early harvest coming from the kingdom's interior. Buying and selling was the name of the day, but even so it had been difficult to buy passage to Fueno. The majority of the ships were headed to Mille Seaseu, where the short growing season left a high demand for imported crops. By a stroke of luck and a search that had lasted the better part of the day we had come across the Florin, a schooner headed for the islands with a cargo of corn and wheat that would be loaded later this evening. Passage wasn't going to be cheap, but Kaelin, true to her word, had scrounged up more than enough money to pay for it by selling the Guardsmen's' crests.
Clouds still hung threateningly overhead, but for the moment at least the rain had stopped and the cobbled streets of the city were crowded, even once we had moved away from the waterfront. Wagons rattled by through puddles, laden with produce, but for the most part the crowd milled about the street vendors. Wooden trays hung across their chests by heavy straps passed across their shoulders, and they called out in loud voices as they competed with one another for the attention of the crowd. Selling everything from knives to ribbon the merchants varied in nationality, but were brought together in a sort of odd unity by the call of gold. The babble of voices filled the air and the crowded, close street had an almost festive air.
/We should be heading back. It'll be getting near supper soon/
//Good// I paused, looking around through both Dart's eyes and my own sort of second sight. //We'll slip out again later tonight and board the ship a few hours before sunrise//
/You sure the captain won't mind?/
//I don't care if the captain minds// I snorted. The captain of the Florin wasn't of the endearing sort; tall and lean, he looked more like the sort who would be more at home trapping small animals than captaining a ship. The crewmen had seemed to respect him though, so I supposed that that accounted for something.
As Dart shouldered his way through the crowd, someone caught his good arm. Half turning to see whom it was, he found himself faced with a florid man with a hooked nose and small, bright eyes peering out at him from beneath a mop of sandy hair.
"Ribbons for the missus, sir? How's about some sweetmeats? Finest quality, brought 'em in from Hoax jus' yesterday!" He smiled broadly at us, or rather, Dart. I noticed with some abstraction that he had food caught in his teeth.
"Er, no thanks." Dart started to pull back, but was forced forward by the press of the crowd as a cart rattled by.
"Some needles, then! Straight as an arrow and sharp enough to pierce bull hide. You won't find better needles anywhere else, I guarantee you!" Still tugging on our arm, he pulled us back out of the flow of the crowd.
"Look, I don't need it!" Dart snapped. I could feel his temper flare for a moment; a spot of heat in his otherwise laid-back mind. He jerked his arm from the man's grasp, but too late. There was a hazy flicker of moment behind him, the vague impression of a man separating himself from the crowd, fists raised.
//Behind you! Move!//
He reacted automatically, ducking and sidestepping clear in one quick movement. The assailant's first punch went wild; he lurched, then kicked out viciously sideways. The strike connected with Dart's stomach, sending him stumbling back against the wall gasping for breath.
//Get him!//
/Not here/ Dart panted.
In the street the people nearest to us had started to notice the commotion and were starting to panic. As the first cry rose, Dart groped at the calf of his boot for his knife.
The other man moved forward now, urged on by the howls of the merchant behind him. He was heavyset, with graying hair and a tanned weather-beaten face. His knuckles were scarred, and at some point recently he'd gotten rope burn across one meaty forearm. A sailor, then.
As he jerked his arm back for another hit, Dart's fingers closed around the hilt of his knife. Springing out of his crouch he slashed out wildly, opening a gash across the sailor's face that ran from his eyebrow to his opposite cheekbone. As the man fell back clutching at his ruined face, Dart dove into the panicking crowd at a run, roughly shoving his way through.
/What the hell was that all about?/ Dodging around the back wheel of a buggy, he broke free from the crowd and bolted away across the cobbles.
//How should I know?// I replied mildly. I scanned the crowd behind us, getting only a vague impression of the scene before Dart ducked around the street corner. //Better keep moving. I think our bullyboy just picked up a couple of friends//
/Brilliant/
A few minutes and several streets later Dart came to a stop in an alleyway, sucking air greedily into his lungs as he leaned up against the wall. /I don't think they're following/
//I hope not. I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this//
/Only now? What do you think that was about?/ He asked, wiping his knife on the hem of his shirt before sliding it back into his boots. /Last I heard Bale was a fairly good city as far as crime goes. The guardsmen do a good job with their patrols/
//That's what's worrying me// I replied grimly. //Hurry up and catch your breath. I think we need to get back to the others//
~ ~ ~
From the street the Alphine residence is a more impressive sight than the view from the courtyards. Like almost every other home in that particular district it was constructed from red brick and sandstone and three or four stories high with flat iron grilles over the lower windows. The sills of the windows were made from soft sandstone; intricate friezes of flowers and birds twined the length of them. The arched doorway was fronted by a sort of flag stone terrace and protected by an awning. Square sandstone pillars that had been fashioned in such a way that they matched the friezes on the sills supported this in turn. Two liveried guards stood stoically at the base of the steps leading up to the door, starring into the middle distance from beneath their polished steel helms.
Dart frowned. /Those weren't here this morning/ He recalled, slipping back around the corner. Worrying at the knot in the sling with his good hand, he flexed the fingers of the other experimentally. Pain stabbed through his shoulder, but not as severely as it had before. It was healing, but slowly. /We're definitely headed for Fueno next/ He grumbled. /The best healers in the world flock to those hotsprings; there must be someone there who can speed this along/
//I hope so// I turned my attention back to the house //How do you plan on getting in there? Just walking up to the door? I'm starting to get the impression that we might not be wanted guests anymore//
/Let's slip into the stable. The hands there are usually too busy to notice anything going on anyhow/
Getting into the stables wasn't too difficult a matter. The alleyways that framed the house would bring someone directly into the courtyard, provided they didn't mind scaling the cast-iron fence that contained it. The path to the stables themselves was unblocked, so it was an easy matter to slip through the dusky interior without the stable hands noticing. Inside the courtyard was wrapped in early evening shadow, a few lamps burning at either end providing minimal light. The clouds overhead were beginning to disperse and patches of deepening sky were beginning to peek through, a few early stars twinkling shyly.
Crossing the courtyard, Dart hesitated with his hand on the door latch. After a moment's pause he plucked the knife from the calf of his boot and slipped it up his sleeve before pressing down on the latch with his thumb. It made a loud jarring noise, then swung open quietly. Glancing back over his shoulder again, Dart slipped through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Inside the hall was empty. Braziers shimmered on their hooks and fat triplets of white candles burned in their holders lining the walls, but no servants were to be seen. A watchful silence had settled in the place of the normal bustle, conveying a warning louder than words. With a sigh, Dart took his hand off of the latch and started for the stairs at a jog.
Upstairs was little better. Aside from two maids airing out the dining room, the house was deserted. Careful not to let them see him, Dart slipped past the doorway and padded down the hall toward the apartments, his boots making no sound on the soft carpets.
The door to the apartments was ajar, but it only took a moment's work to discover that it was empty. Standing in the center of the sitting room, Dart's breath escaped between his clenched teeth with a hiss. Kaelin and Zion were obviously gone, but the room was exactly as we had left it this morning. No signs of a struggle. "If this wasn't so weird, I might actually be comforted," He muttered aloud. "You'd almost think that they'd just gone out."
//I doubt that, somehow//
/I did say 'almost'/
The bedrooms were undisturbed. Easing open the door to his own room, Dart scanned it quickly, then started to struggle out of the dust jacket that Kaelin had picked up for him. Dropping it in a heap on the floor, he retrieved the rest of his clothes from where they lay bundled up around his sword in the corner of the room. Setting them on the bed, he carefully began to peel them away in layers until the cloth fell away. Underneath, the spirits glinted in the candlelight; purple, gold, and onyx. He started to reach out to touch them, then stopped. /Ark?/
//A moment// I focused briefly, sending thin tendrils of magic out carefully through Dart's suddenly relaxed mind. Earlier that week I'd set a ward on the belt and the spirits, ensuring that no one would touch them in our absence. If they had, the culprit would receive a mind jolt that would leave him unconscious for several hours. I would have made the blow fatal, had not Dart pointed out that Kaelin, in her curiosity, might be even more prone to try and pilfer them than one of her brother's servants.
There was an almost imperceptible shift in the air, and the barrier surrounding the spirits broke. //There. It should be safe//
Dart grabbed the belt and wrapped it tightly around his waist, snapping the buckle shut with some difficulty. He started to reach for the sword belt, but stopped with his hand hovering over the leather sheath. /Ark?/
//Hmm?//
/You hear something?/
Kaelin's POV:
The lamp on the wall across from the cell guttered briefly as the wick burned down to the last of the oil. The guard by the door shifted slightly on his stool, guiding a whetstone along the blade of his spear. The sound of the stone grinding against steel echoed chillingly throughout the dungeon, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and setting my teeth on edge.
Zion stirred in the corner, the chains binding his wrists together clinking against one another with the movement. "What time do you think it is?"
"How can I tell?" I gestured at the windowless stone walls. "Your guess is as good as mine down here."
"How much longer do you think they'll keep us here?"
"Longer than is convenient for us, that's for sure." I glanced at the guard again, then settled down on the floor, crossing my legs. Biting my lip, I began to pluck at the sole of my boot.
Zion lifted his head up out of his arms to watch me with passing interest. "What're you doing?"
"Hush," I told him distractedly. My fingers touched steel; after a bit of prying I managed to get a grip on the blunt end of the knife and started to tug it out.
Zion kept his mouth shut as I worked the blade the rest of the way out. It dropped to the straw and I plucked it up again carefully between two fingers. Checking for the guard again, I shuffled on my knees over to where Zion sat. "Hold out your hands," I instructed in a whisper, then stuck the tip of the knife into the lock. I'd spent some time studying my own; they were nothing fancy, but well oiled and of simple design. After a few seconds of tinkering the blade caught. I gave it a sharp twist and the lock sprung open with a clack.
Easing the manacles from his wrists, Zion set them carefully in his lap while I stuck the butt of the blade between my teeth. It was an awkward way to pick a lock but, once you caught the trick of it, it was almost as quick as using your hands. As the manacles fell away I spat the blade out. "Wouldn't Daddy be proud of me now," I muttered as I massaged my wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again.
"What?"
"Never mind." I glanced back at the guard, but the steady rasp of the whetstone never slowed once. "Look, I think we can make it out of here, but we're going to have to be quick about it. If anyone recognizes us we won't have a chance once they alert the barracks. The place'll be crawling with dread knights and guardsmen before you can blink an eye."
Zion rubbed his head, just missing the piece of straw that had snarled itself in his hair. "Out. Right." Getting slowly to his feet, he set the binders carefully on the straw and walked to the door of the cell. Leaning against the grille, he peered down the walk curiously. "Him first though, right?" He raised his voice. "Oi! There wouldn't be a chance of us getting a bite to eat, would there?"
I lunged forward, catching him by the ankle and giving him a jerk. "What do you think you're doing?" I hissed angrily.
Zion ignored me, except to kick me off his ankle. "Hey! You listening?"
The rasp of stone on steel stopped. "You'll get your food when someone brings it, idiot. Now shut up."
"But I'm hungry!"
I gave up and scuttled back farther into the cell. "You sound like a kid," I muttered. Surprised, he shot me a grin over his shoulder before continuing.
"You sure you couldn't give us even a bit of food? You look well fed. Or overfed. One or the other."
The guard got up off his stool, face dark. "I told you to shut up! Do you want me to have food cut off for you entirely?" He stopped in front of the cell, the spear butt tapping agitatedly on the floor.
"You wouldn't really do that, would you?" Zion hung his head. "You're gonna execute us anyway, right? So the least you could do is give us a half-decent meal first."
The guard jabbed the spear lightly through the bars. "Who said we're gonna execu-" He stopped, suddenly noticing Zion's free wrists. "Hey!"
Seizing the haft of the spear, Zion gave it a powerful jerk. As the guard stumbled forward his other hand shot out through the grill, grabbing hold of the man's collar and smashing him into the bars once, twice.
Zion looked critically at the limp man dangling from his fist then let him slide to the floor with a satisfied nod. "That should keep him down for a bit. Can you pick the lock from inside?"
"Can fish swim?" I picked up the blade and shouldered him to the side. Sticking my arm through the bars, I inserted the tip into the lock hole. A sharp jab, a twist, and it caught. A heave to the left, and the bolt dropped out of place with a hollow clang that echoed endlessly off of the stone walls. Biting my tongue, I eased the door open a few inches. To my relief it made considerably less noise than the lock had. I swung it open the rest of the way, pushing the guard out of the way with my foot as I did so. "Will you do something about him? The last thing we need is for him to wake up and start making a ruckus."
Zion grunted and bent down to drag the man into the cell by his ankles. While I retrieved the spear he found the manacles again and looped them around one another before binding the man's wrists to his ankles. Ripping a strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt he wadded it up and stuffed it into the other man's mouth then tied a second strip over it to hold it in place. Satisfied, he pulled him to the back of the cell and left him there, shutting the door behind him. The bolt dropped into place again, and both of us jumped at the sound.
Shaking my head, I hefted the spear to test its weight. "Let's get out of here. This place is death on my nerves."
The corridor outside was empty. It stretched off in either direction with lamps placed every twenty feet or so, so that the corridor itself seemed to move in and out of shadow. Aside from the occasional pop or sizzle from one of the lamps it was silent. Muted sounds of activity drifted down through the ceiling from above, but no one appeared in the arc of light at the end of the tunnel. I breathed a sigh of relief. No one had heard the din that the lock bolt had made.
Next to me Zion shifted uneasily in the shadows. "Where to now?" He whispered.
"The closest exit, I assume." I squinted down the corridor. Had something just moved, or was my imagination just playing tricks again?
He hissed "What about the spirits?"
I looked over at him, not missing the sudden frown that creased his face. "What about them?"
"We're not leaving without them."
"But they could be anywhere!"
"Do you want the temples to keep them?"
I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again agitatedly. He had a point, though I hated to admit it. I stamped one foot impatiently. "Fine. We'll grab the stones. But we have to hurry."
Without answering Zion started down the corridor ahead of me, moving silently in spite of his size. Gritting my teeth I followed, making a mental note to find a stick later on and try to beat some sense through his thick skull. Just when you started to think that there was more than fluff between his ears he always had to prove you wrong.
We slowed as we reached the end of the tunnel, pressing ourselves as deeply into the shadows as we could manage. I hadn't been imagining things when I'd seen something move at the end of the passage. Two oil lamps burned brightly on twisted iron stands, filling the chamber with a light that glared painfully on my eyes after the darkness of the pass. Three guardsmen were framed against the light, one sitting, one standing, and the third pacing back and forth agitatedly across the room. They were speaking; as I listened I dropped to one knee, working my second blade out from the sole of my boot with my fingertips.
"Look, I still say that Frons would have won."
"In a pig's eye he would have." The man sitting on the floor toyed with a coin. "I had good money riding on Derrick. Now I'll be blasted if I'll ever see that again."
The man pacing made a disgusted sound. "What're you still going on about that for? You lost the gold; that's your own fault. The fight was broken up, everyone lost cash, and that's all there is to it. Now shut up. We're supposed to be keeping watch, not jawing off and complaining."
"Stuff yourself. What else is there to do? The three of us don't all have to be down here an' you know it." The man standing against the wall leaned back, his spear rapping the flagstones. "That Knight's just being paranoid."
"He might be paranoid, but he's been in service almost as long as the Commander Mychael." The sitting man grimaced. "You don't live long in a job like that without paranoia to save your sorry ass."
Behind me Zion eased the spear from my grip while I weighed our options. Could we take them? Three on two weren't the worst odds that could have been handed to us, but they weren't the best either. What about the other end of the passage? I bit my lip and reached for my second knife blade.
"Speak for yourself. Weren't you trying for acceptance as a Dread Knight a few months ago?"
"Notice I changed my mind."
Readying the knives for the throw, I tensed myself. When the pacing man turned at the far wall he would be facing me dead on for a moment. My blades weren't near long enough to reach his vitals, but if I could slow him down… I brought my arm back and squinted, judging the distance between the target and myself.
"Hey, did you just hear something?"
"What?"
"Dunno. Sounded sort of like-"
There was a rushing sound, as though the air around me had been sucked into a vacuum. For a fraction of a second the passage was deathly silent; even my own heartbeat was dead in my ears. And then the earth began to shiver and tremble and the silence was shattered into oblivion as massive, indescribable noise slammed into us, eclipsing the senses and sending us to the floor in a mewling, whimpering heap.
Seconds stretched into hours as I curled my knees to my chest on the heaving floor, oblivious to all else but the thunderous noise filling my ears. After a seeming eternity it died away into a distant rumble, but the flagstones continued to tremble beneath me as smaller explosions punctuated the air in a constant staccato; then this too died away and silence fell again, heavy and leaden.
On the stones next to me Zion stirred, pushing himself to his hands and knees so that he could look around unsteadily. Blood streamed down over his upper lip; he must have come down on his hard when he fell. Shaking his head gingerly, he looked at me inquiringly, and his lips moved in a question.
"Nnngh?" Not the most intelligent of replies, but it was the most I could manage at the moment. I uncurled gingerly, wincing as a spur of pain shot through my side. My limbs trembled convulsively, and my spine felt as though it was trying to crawl out through my skin. Touching my ribs gingerly, I composed my thoughts and tried the question again. "Wha'th 'u sayth?"
"Are you alright?" I could hear a little, but it sounded as though it was coming from a far off. Zion looked concerned, but made no move to help as I struggled to my feet. I stuck a finger in my ear and wriggled it, trying to clear it. "Yeah, I think so." Shaking my head, I looked around while I waited for my hearing to return.
The guardsmen were gone. The oil lamps had tipped over and smashed during the tremors and now puddles of fire burned on the floor where the oil had spilt. Here and there pieces of brick had fallen from the top of the tunnel, and they lay scattered across the chipped flagstones. Still wondering what the heck had happened, I glanced back over my shoulder. The lamps nearest to us continued to burn brightly, but the end of the tunnel gaped like a great black maw, dark and empty.
Zion followed my gaze. "I think it caved in. See? If you look hard you can see the building stones."
He was right. Rubbing my ear again, I frowned when my hearing didn't improve. "What happened, do you think?"
He shrugged. "Like hell should I know."
Were the sounds of panic getting louder, or was my hearing coming back? Grinding my teeth I slipped my knives back into my sleeves and retrieved the spear from where it had fallen. "Take this." Passing him the spear, I started forward again. Whatever had happened, we'd neither find out nor get out by just standing around and waiting.
Dart's POV:
With my ears still ringing I dropped to the stones of the courtyard, keeping in the shadows as I crouched next to the wall. Smoke and unsettled dust choked the air; somewhere off to my right a fire was burning. I started out of the crouch, but a few feet down the wall I sank back again as footsteps pelted the stones off to the right. Hazy forms rushed by through the smoke, yelling orders to one another as they ran.
Once they had passed I half-rose, straining to see if they were the last. When no one else came I hurried along the remainder of the wall, stooping over as I ran. Covering my nose and mouth with one grimy hand, I slowed to a halt as the corner of the temple came into sight. Oil lamps stuttered in their glass cases, and the light they gave off was feeble at best, but they were still sufficient to mark the stairway leading up to the heavy, graven doors. Normally the guardsmen would be keeping their vigil from the hidden niches in the wall next to the doors, but in the chaos following the explosion, it seemed that they had left their posts. Sidling along the wall and climbing the stairs I slipped inside, away from the smoke.
Inside my head Ark was agitated. //Why did you aim for the courtyard? The barracks were right there!//
/The barracks are- were filled with sleeping men. The courtyard was empty/
//Exactly my point!//
I shook my head and continued without answering. How could I expect him to understand? Killing was something natural to him; he wasn't sick of it as was I. Besides, firing on the courtyard had caused more confusion; running around in the dark was a tricky thing when the ground had been turned into a rough crater. Easing the heavy doors shut behind me, I took a quick look around the vacant entry hall before dodging into an anteroom.
Inside the room was small and cramped, the available floor-space taken up for the most part by rickety chairs and scratched tables. A few threadbare rugs were rolled up and stacked neatly into the corner; a thin coat of dust lay over everything present. What little light illuminated the room came from a heavy lamp set high up into the wall, positioned so that the thick glass case must've protruded out into the room next door. If that were the case, then that room would probably have been occupied, at least until recently. Leaning against the door, I pressed my ear against it, listening.
Finding out where to look for Zion and Kaelin had been no great chore. Once his guards had been beaten down and he cornered in his rooms Lyke had become somewhat agreeable, if grudgingly. And while he wouldn't say exactly where his sister had been taken, it hadn't been difficult to glean the location from what he had said. The temples, in any case, should have been my first guess. After some firm words, and one or two blunt threats I'd left, shutting the door firmly behind me. He might have gotten up to send for help, but I wasn't overly concerned about that. A broken shin usually will keep someone low for quite a while.
Well, with a bit of improvisation we'd made it inside. For the rest of it I was going to have to rely on the spirits.
I took my ear away from the door. No footsteps could be heard outside, but once the shock of the explosion wore off then at least some of the guards would be returning to their posts. I took a deep breath, and immediately wished that I hadn't. Muffling a dusty sneeze in my fist, I wiped my mouth and crouched down. /You sure this will work?/
//It worked before, didn't it? A building is a bit more complicated than a street that's all. Just try to maintain the link for as long as possible, and it should lead us right to the spirits//
/I hope so/ I closed my eyes and after one or two false starts, sent my mind out into the surrounding darkness. For a moment my mind drifted, disembodied and alone. Then, as had happened before in Kazas, I touched on a spot of heat that ran off into the darkness like a winding trail. Automatically I followed, doing my best to memorize the images of broad hallways and twisting stairways that flitted past. Gradually directions began to emerge; in the eastern quarter, fifth floor, in the apartments…
If I had been able, I might have frowned. Apartments? The thought had hardly crossed my mind when two spots of color intruded in the darkness, flaring brightly. So the red-eye and the blue-sea were nearby one another, at least.
No sooner than the spirits had appeared than the void vanished, dumping me back into my own head, leaving only a lingering pull from the spirits to remind me of where I'd just been.
//There!// Ark barked //Don't lose that! Do you think you can follow it?//
Shaking my head, I blinked at the dusty floor. "Huh?" /Oh yeah, right. I think so/ Getting back to my feet, I listened at the door for a moment before easing it open. The hall was empty, for the moment at least. Grabbing hold of the lingering trail like a lifeline, I slipped out into the hallway, my boots scuffing slightly on the smooth floor.
The temple had been built primarily to house large gatherings of people and as a result the construction was very wide and open. Even avoiding the main gallery that would on a normal day be in use and open to the public, I found myself pacing nervously down wide hallways, ducking into enclaves whenever I thought I might have heard someone coming. Wherever I went the walls had been built with sandstone; long, marching mosaics that ran the length of entire hallways had been carved into the soft stone. Lamps hung on chains from the high ceiling and the floors had been tiled in varying shades of blue and jade, making a serpentine pattern the wound back and forth under my feet as I ran. It gave a strong impression of wealth, without the garishness that Lyke employed. Idly, I wondered exactly how much Ayrel inadvertently made off of the general populace.
What activity there was on the ground floor seemed to be coming predominantly from the west wings of the temple, which suited me fine. The trail ran off in the other direction, losing itself in the maze of sparsely populated corridors and rooms and stairwells. Up through the second, third, and onto the forth level, making my way cautiously along the corridor. Once or twice I ran across a few maids, but their backs were to me as they struggled to haul an uncooperative laundry cart through a narrow doorway.
The hallway ended and I climbed a spiraling staircase cautiously, ears straining to pick up the sound of footsteps as I padded up the polished wooden stairs. /Jeez, this is playing death on my nerves/ I grumbled, one hand resting lightly on the carved banister.
//All the more reason to finish up and get out// Ark replied. //Where now?//
/To the left-/ I cut off as the sound of scuffling feet echoed up from the corridor below. Without bothering to look over my shoulder I lunged forward, taking the last few yards of the stair in giant strides before turning sharply at the top and haring off down the carpeted hallway at a full-out run. Before I'd gone too far I slowed again, one hand on the hilt of my sword while I peered cautiously back the way I'd just came.
/What do you think that was?/
//I don't know. You bolted like a scared rabbit before I could get a decent look// he said dryly. //You really are on edge, aren't you?//
/I hate having to sneak around in a place like this/ I started walking again. The trail was growing faint, and I hurried my walk to keep up.
//Funny. We have to do it often enough//
/That still doesn't mean that I enjoy it/ I paused at one door, a large piece of mahogany work with a polished brass doorknob. Here the trail died. Did that mean it was the end, or had it simply worn off?
The door pushed open smoothly on oiled hinges and I slipped inside, closing it again quietly behind me. Inside the room was brightly lit by oil lams and clean wax candles set on mirrored stands. The room was plain; a simple desk occupied the far wall of the room, scattered with scraps of parchment and quills. A padded stool was pulled up to it, with an old map drooping over the seat. A long backed bench was pulled up to an empty hearth, dry birch logs stacked neatly, waiting to be lit. Woven carpets covered the floor and a large window, the panes filled with expensive squares of thin glass, looked out over the city of Bale from the north wall. Indels Castle, I noted, could be quite easily seen from here. Avenues, marked by stuttering lines of street lamps, stretched off in all directions. The river cut a broad swath of inky darkness through the city lights, smooth and sinuous as it snaked away toward the distant ocean.
I gazed out the window for a moment, then looked away, distracted by a building feeling of heat in my chest. The spirit's resonating…?
It wasn't difficult to locate the source. Set carefully on the edge of a shelf was a gilded ivory chest, thick, and about a hand span wide. The sort of thing in which you might expect a noble to keep trinkets of some value. Carefully I took it down from the shelf, turning it over as I did so. There was no visible lock but bright, multihued light shone through a thin crack running around the lid. I gave it a slight shake, and was rewarded with the slight clack of stones bumping one another. I smiled tightly. The spirits were here, but where were Kaelin and Zion?
//First things first// Ark said in a businesslike manner. //Get the spirits out of the box, then find them. They can't have gone too far//
I nodded absently, setting the box down on the table and running my callused fingers around the edge. No lock, and no visible hinges. And while the aged ivory was brittle, I didn't really feel like smashing the thing open.
A bird of some sort had been carved into the lid, two tiny rubies set where the eye should be. There was a third and a forth as well, each set into opposite ends of the box. Instead of rubies plain slivers of amethyst marked the eyes, cheap by comparison. They depressed under my touch, but the lid only loosened slightly before falling back into place as the pressure was released. /Damn. You must have to press all three birds at once/ Impossible, with only one hand.
Slipping the box into the folds of my coat, I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. Zion and Kaelin. Of course the spirits would have been confiscated from them. But that would mean that in all likelihood they would be in the cells below the temple. Brilliant. How was I going to get all the way back down there without being seen?
Behind me there was a sort of 'shuff' noise as the bottom of the door brushed across the top of the mats. I spun around, my good hand automatically reaching for the hilt of my sword, expecting guardsmen in the very least. As a result I was already moving when an aged man strode into the room and stopped, gaping.
I let go of the hilt before the sword was halfway out of the sheath but my momentum carried me straight into him, plowing him down and sending me tumbling out into the hallway. Struggling back to my feet, I turned quickly. He lay half in and out of the doorway, eyes rolled back into his head. His chest rose and fell slightly; good. I didn't think that I had hit him all that hard anyway. Stuffing my sword the rest of the way into its sheath, I twisted it back into place. Grabbing him by the back of his robe, I dragged him back into the room before kicking flat the carpet and exiting, shutting the door firmly behind me.
/Right. Let's get going/
Zion's POV:
I skidded around the corner, the head of my spear clipping the lamp overhead. Up ahead Kaelin had already caught her breath, and was peering cautiously up and down a side hallway. "I think we're safe," she said, her voice quiet as she pocketed her blades again. "Damn, we were lucky. I was positive that they would have noticed us."
"We got lucky," I agreed. Whatever had happened to cause that explosion that had caved in the tunnels beneath the temple, it had put everyone on edge. For a short time after the fact the lower levels of the temple had been quite empty, but as time passed and the threat seemed to have become of questionable nature the guardsmen and the occasional dread knight had returned indoors. They now stood everywhere in corridors, in groups of three or four, talking quietly in low voices. As a result we had had to tread carefully, and even so had been spotted once, and nearly fallen on top of two different groups coming around corners too fast.
I pushed sweaty hair back from my face, then frowned as I rubbed my slick fingers together. The sweat wasn't from exertion.
"I don't know where you plan on looking for the spirits," she muttered as she came over to me. "This place has to be almost as large as Indels Castle. It could take days to find them again."
I shrugged, but I knew that I must have looked pained. "What else can we do? We have to get those spirits back somehow."
"The moment you think of an easier way than going through and searching every room, you tell me." She stifled a yawn, the bar tattoos across her cheekbone stretching with the movement. "In the meantime, I'd say that we have another quarter hour at most before getting back out becomes impossible. As it is, we're going to have to go out a window or something like that. There's no way I'm going back down to the first floor again." Bending over, she tightened the laces of her boot.
Grinding my teeth, I peered back down the corridor. What was someone to do in a situation like this. Stay, and risk getting caught, or run, and risk loosing the spirits for good? At least if we found them then we could always fly out of here. And Soltrane was around here somewhere still; we hadn't seen him in any of the crowds downstairs, but he still might be around somewhere. I rubbed my neck. If he saw us, no matter how courteous he had been to us in the cells, there would be no delay in his raising an alarm, of that I was sure.
Kaelin straightened, rubbing her hands on the front of her vest. "Got your breath? Fine. Come on hero-boy. Lots of work to do yet if you ever plan on getting those rocks back."
"Hero yourself," I retorted, stepping out past her and around the corner.
And found myself standing nose to nose with a dread knight. Not Soltrane; the helm had been twisted to form the head of some gruesome serpent, and I could clearly see the face of the man staring back out at me, apparently as surprised as I was.
I haven't really been a prize fighter for all that long, really, but if you don't learn fast reflexes in the ring, then you'll get pounded. Worse, you'll miss the payout. So while my mind was still working out exactly what had just happened my body was already reacting, kicking out viciously. As the knight stumbled back into the bodies of the two guardsmen behind him the spear came around, scything across the armored chest in a shower of sparks. And then I was off and running after Kaelin, who had broke and ran the instant she had realized what was happening. Shouts rose behind me and I dodged left, following the blur of blue and brown ahead of me. How could anyone with legs that short run that fast?
The corridors passed by in a blur as we ran; left, right, right, left…I lost track as we raced deeper and deeper into the heart of the temple, guided by panic rather than any logical thought. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and breath broke hoarsely from my throat, as I ran, tripped, caught myself and continued on with hardly a pause in my flight.
Ahead of me Kaelin disappeared around another corner; almost immediately there was a shout and the dull sound of two bodies colliding. Gritting my teeth I flipped my spear over in my hands. If it was another one of those ruddy guardsmen… skidding around the turn after her, I sprung up into the air with the lance held over my head, ready to strike.
"Oh for the love of-"
Ry twisted aside at the last second and the spear plunged harmlessly past, ricocheting off of the tiles and clattering across the floor. Relieved and confused, I doubled over with my hands on my knees and gulped down air. "Ry? How the…" I gasped, "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Here!" He thrust a small box at me, shoving it into my hands. "The spirits are in there. I can't open it."
"What the…?" I turned it over in my hands, confused. "But there's no latch!"
"Give it!" Agitated, Kaelin pulled the box out of my grip, fingers flying over the smooth ivory surface. Instantly the top snapped off, revealing the spirits and filling the corridor with multihued light.
I snatched back my spirit immediately, a little surprised at how relieved I was to have it back in my hands. I'd only ever used it twice, and already being separated from it made me feel as though I had lost an arm. Next to me, Kaelin examined hers carefully before tucking it back into her vest, nodding with some satisfaction.
"Right, everyone happy now?" Ry jerked at the collar of his jacket, settling it. "I hope you guys had some idea as to how to get out of here."
"Window. It can't be that much of a drop to the courtyard," I started, but Kaelin cut in quickly, shaking her head.
"Can't do that. The wall surrounds the whole courtyard. Besides, whatever made that explosion… there'll be as many men out there as in here."
The sounds of chain mail reached my ears, and I shifted nervously. Apparently Ry heard it too, because he shook his head and turned away. "Never mind. I think I know something that might work. If nothing else, we'll just have to use you're spirits."
In the end we climbed the stairwell up to the third floor and found a room close enough to the wall that when the shutters were thrown back it was only a ten foot drop to the wall top. Vaulting off the edge of the wall into the shallow moat, we lay low for a few moments, then hurried out into the shadowy streets at a quick walk, the sloshing water in our boots making an interesting counter-point to the staccato of our footsteps.
Once we had crossed several streets and put some considerable distance between ourselves and the temple, I felt my breathing start to return to normal. "So where are we going?" I asked, mopping sopping hair off of my brow. The air was still damp in the wake of the rainstorm, and a definite chill was settling into my clothes.
Scuff squish, scuff squish.
"I hired a boat this morning that should take us to Fueno." Ry pulled off his bandana, wringing it out and stuffing it into his pocket as wet hair plastered itself to his face. "It's not due to leave for a few hours yet, though."
"You sure?" Kaelin had her spirit out again and was turning it over in her hands. "Ship captains can be a bit lax about their schedules in port."
Ry chuckled, the sound muffled by the misty air. "Don't worry. The tide should be turning in a few hours. If nothing else, we can lay low until then."
"Oh." We walked in silence for another block or so, before the slow tolling of the temple bells marked the small hours of the morning. Unwillingly, my thoughts drifted back to the guardsmen.
"Do you think they'll come into the city?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Kaelin tucked the spirit away again.
"…why don't we move a bit faster?"
"Good idea. I'm getting cold."
Not really knowing my way around Bale well enough to hazard a guess at our location, I was content to follow Kaelin as she picked her way between the streets without hesitation. I thought it funny at first, before remembering that she was a thief. Of course she knew the city at night.
Coming out at last onto the waterfront road, we stopped on the arch of a bridge to let Ry gather his bearings. The docks were clearly visible from here, the long arms of the quays extending far out into the river. Guttering torches lined the wharf, old oil-soaked rags wrapped around sticks. In front of the ships the torches became lamps; anything to reduce the risk of a fire, I guess.
"That one," Ry said at last, pointing to a small schooner docked at the end of the wharf. "They were loading the cargo when I came on this morning…yesterday, actually," he corrected, realizing the time. "The dock officials have already been through, so they're all set to go."
"Okay…so what're we doing until then?"
By way of an answer, Ry stumped to the end of the bridge and stepped out onto the arm of the dock. Crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly nearby; slipping in between two rows, he sat down and disappeared from sight. "Find a spot and catch some rest. The tide won't come until nearly dawn, at any rate. May as well catch up on rest while you can."
Arrrgh. Well, don't say that I didn't warn you. Sorry for the crazy length there. **stands on head** _-_ Hope you didn't fall asleep.
Wow. I'm bored. How bored, you ask? This bored:
I wanna know which character you guys like the most. So you know what that means! Popularity Poll time! You don't have to if you don't want to, but hey! Curiosity calls. So if you decide to, just drop a line via review or my e-mail (just enter the character's name as the subject heading) with your selection of one of the following choices:
- Dart (Surprisingly spry for his age ;~;)
- Ragnarok (The foul tempered anti-hero. Careful; he bites)
- Zion (Feed him a cookie and he'll follow you home!)
-Kaelin ( Disowned, and damn proud of it!)
-Garren ( Most likely to be turned into a SD plushy)
-Nova ( Needs a hug)
-Ayrel ( Spoiled, with power to boot **winces and ducks, for ph34r of flying pointy objects**)
-Asalla (Devoted mother of the millennia)
-Other (Insert your own comment here)
I'll post the results within the next chapter or two. +_+0 Bwah.