Chapter Twenty Eight

The Great Stormtide Escape

JANUS

Janus let Elsa squeeze his hand, and took one last long look at her. Those beautiful blue eyes, that smooth, pale skin, her gorgeous platinum blonde hair that hung loose around her bare shoulders. It pained him to have to leave her behind, but he did so, nonetheless. This was something he was going to have to do for the greater good.

"I'll see you soon." He said, eyes locked with hers, and watched her nod and give him a reassuring smile. Then, he tore himself away from her and headed for the door.

"Good luck!" He heard Tracy shriek after him as he broke into a sprint.

First stop, the quartermaster's storage. It would be where the prisoners' items would be kept away safely, and no doubt, his own belongings were there. His katana, the Martin Jaguar recurve bow, arrow, daggers and other weapons. He would need them.

Finding the switchback stairs at the corner of the block, he went up them three at a time, sprinting up flight after flight. Arriving at the fourth floor, he grabbed the peeling banister and swung himself to the right of the corridor to continue riding off his built up momentum.

The quartermaster's storage room was at a different cell block from the morgue, as Monco and Venetia had told him. Having gotten the description, he knew exactly where to head. This part of the block wasn't guarded, since most of the guards had been pulled from their posts to deal with the riots going on downstairs on the first floor.

The door of the quartermaster's storage was locked, as expected. It looked like it had been standing for the past century though, and Janus suspected that it would give way if enough force was applied. Taking a step back, he threw his shoulder against the flimsy door, which caved and creaked, but still held. Once more. Janus raised his leg and kicked the door with all his strength, blowing the door off its hinges.

The door fell inwards with a loud crash, and Janus fervently hoped that no one had heard the commotion. Probably not, what with the riot going on downstairs. Entering the dark storage room, Janus squinted in the dark, trying to adjust his vision to the shadows. Thankfully, his years of mercenary conditioning kicked in, and very soon he could see things clearly.

The place smelled dusty, and he coughed, wading through piles of unorganised items and belongings. Most of the stuff that could be classified had been inventoried, and the rest of the knick knacks that the quartermaster didn't know what to do with had been left strewn across the floor. How organised.

Janus found his unmistakable tactical backpack in a corner, and pulled it open to check the contents. It was his. Hurriedly, he stripped off his prison uniform and donned his mercenary garb. The tight-fitting blacks came as a warm relief after having his prison clothes soaked in freezing water and clinging to his skin uncomfortably.

Pulling on his gloves and boots, he snapped the mask onto his face and immediately felt secure behind his old protective gear. To put on the finishing touches, he pulled the black hood over his head. Tucking the daggers, pistols and other gadgets into sheathes and holsters all across his clothes, he nested the quiver full of arrows and katana in its scabbard on his back. He felt about in his pack for his revolver but found it gone.

Damn it, he swore. The guards must have gone through his equipment and found the rare sidearm fashioned by the best gunsmith in Bruvesqk, and took a fancy to it. He would just have to make do without it. Removing the limbs of the take-down recurve bow from his pack, he assembled and strung the bow with a practiced familiarity and speed.

In the span of two or three minutes, he was ready to go. Feeling infinitely more secure and equipped, he stepped out of the storage room in his full mercenary attire with bow in hand, and took off down the corridor towards the flight of stairs again.

This time, he headed even higher, ascending towards the roof of the prison building. His well-planned time schedule had gone out the window, and now he needed to improvise and cross his fingers that things wouldn't go off the rails.

Flying up another two flights of switchback stairs, Janus had to almost skid to a halt as he came to a door, which presumably led out onto the roof. Knowing that there would be snipers posted up there already with their bright lights, he quietly turned the door knob, praying that it wouldn't creak. It did, and loudly too.

Janus muttered a curse under his breath as he opened the door and was met by four snipers who turned to see who had come to join them. One of them shouted, and brought his rifle to bear with the deadly speed of a veteran sniper. Once again, Janus found himself staring down the familiar barrel, this time that of a rifle, but he knew exactly what to do.

Before the sniper could pull the trigger, Janus' hand had already flown to his belt, and a dagger whipped out to close the distance. The weapon buried itself to the hilt in the man's chest, and the sniper gave a brief gurgle and collapsed.

Darting towards the nearest sniper that had been guarding the west, Janus pulled the rifle barrel upwards as the man struggled to aim at him. The weapon jerked as the butt slammed against the sniper's shoulder. It went off with a crack that sounded lower in pitch compared to the standard smoothbore musket, and deafeningly loud in such close proximity.

With the bow in his other hand, Janus slammed the riser of the bow against the man's sternum, sending him staggering backwards and flailing as he missed a footing and went shrieking off the rooftop. What a horrible way to go, Janus thought unfeelingly as he spun to face the other two snipers, who had by now managed to aim their weapons at him.

Without warning, he moved like lightning a millisecond before both rifles' nozzles gave their pink-white flares. Two lead balls whizzed past Janus as he dove to the left and rolled. He came up with another dagger, and threw it at the sniper closest to him.

The man dropped his rifle with a scream, as blood spurted from his arm. Lunging at the man, Janus threw himself shoulder first and the man went down without a fight. The last sniper attempted to slam the butt of his rifle against the back of Janus' head, and very nearly succeeded.

Running on pure instinct, Janus dropped at the last second, and the rifle butt missed his head narrowly. He could almost feel the whoosh of air, but countered quickly by sweeping the man's legs out from beneath him with a swift kick. Getting to his feet, Janus nocked a simple arrow from his quiver, and shot it into the sniper's chest. The man's body jerked and went silent.

Withdrawing his arrow, Janus knelt over the third man, who was still alive and writhing in pain on the ground from where the ex-mercenary had thrown a dagger into his arm. Without hesitating, Janus simply ripped the dagger out of the man's arm and drove it into his heart before he could scream in pain. Yanking it free, Janus dried the dagger's blade on the man's uniform and sheathed it. Nothing too fancy, but fast and efficient.

Janus glanced down from the roof. Was there a chance he could fire a grappling arrow or cable arrow and zip down to safety? He decided against it. There was nothing strong or reliable to anchor to, given how old the entire fortress was. Who knew if the stone would crumble while he was halfway down? No. The morgue was his only option. Unfortunately. And he was running out of time.

Hurrying back into the prison building, he sprinted down the stairs back to the fourth floor, and dashed through the corridor to the cell block where the morgue was located. He pounded down the route he had taken the night before, and came to the familiar passage that was lit by only a pair of lamps, with the walls crawling with weeds and moss.

As it was last night, the morgue was unguarded and the door unlocked. Janus slipped inside with ease, only to find it empty. Good. Trying to ignore the corpses lying on the tables and on their gurneys, he ran towards the hole and climbed up to it. He nocked a grappling arrow and sat on the ledge, aiming inside the hole and upwards at the ceiling. Shooting it, the arrow's grappling hook sunk into the ceiling.

Janus didn't test the ceiling's strength due to lack of time, and climbed into the hole while clutching his bow, which still had the cable of the arrow tethered to it securely. Down he descended, silently thanking the fact that the ceiling held his weight. Cautious to avoid stepping on the pile of corpses, he splashed down into the sewer water below, his boots keeping the water out.

With a tug, he retrieved his grappling arrow and waded through the water, having no choice but to clamber over a large pile of bodies that was obstructing his way. Down the tunnel he went, the same way he did yesterday, turning left at the fork and coming out to the exterior of the prison building.

Making sure the coast was clear, Janus waited till he was sure that the pair of patrols on his side of the wall had just passed before he shifted the metal grate aside and climbed out of the sewer tunnel. His tight blacks were soaked through with dirty water, and he could even smell the filth on his clothes, making him want to gag. Suppressing the urge, he darted to the nearest wall, trailing water as he went. At least the upper half of his body wasn't soaked, which meant that the black powder he carried with him was still usable. Hopefully.

He peered out from behind the wall to check how far the guards that had just passed him by had progressed. They were about a third of the wall's length away, so he still had some time before the next round of guards came. That would give him just about enough time if he moved quickly.

Removing two arrows from his quiver, Janus silently crept closer to the patrolling guards, who were still moving at a leisurely pace. Apparently, the guards patrolling the prison grounds were not privy to what was going on inside. Out of paranoia, Janus glanced up. No new snipers at the post, which meant that no one knew of his escape attempt. Yet.

Nocking the two arrows, he drew them back as he inched closer. Shooting two arrows at once meant that they would carry a lot less power due to the added weight, so he wanted to be sure he got close enough for the arrows to do their jobs. When he was no more than seven feet away, he let fly. The two arrows struck the pair of guards squarely in the backs, and they tumbled on their faces without a sound.

Janus ran across the remaining distance and yanked the two arrows out of their backs. Wiping them on the dead men's uniforms, he put the arrows back in his quiver and began the process of dragging the two bodies to some shrubbery nearby. Somehow, these plants had survived up to early winter thus far, and they would do nicely to conceal the bodies.

That left three more pairs of guards. Janus went about the same procedure for the second pair, and just when he thought that he was having it easy, he stepped on something underfoot before he could get close enough to the third pair.

Sloppy, Janus gritted his teeth as the pair of guards directly in front of him spun and levelled their muskets. These men bore the standard muskets unlike their rifled sharpshooters up on the roof, which meant that the weapons were a lot less accurate. However, at this distance, it would be quite impossible to miss.

In his favour though, the men were a little slow, and Janus had just enough time to dive out of the way. The muskets made their reports, cracking one after another, and the sounds reverberated through the night sky. Producing a dagger, Janus hurled it overhand into the throat of one of the men, and he went down with blood spraying.

The second guard was in the midst of fumbling with his musket, trying to go through the process of loading the cumbersome firearm, but gave up as he saw the masked man running straight for him. Instead, he raised his musket, which had a bayonet fixed to it, in an attempt to skewer Janus.

Obviously, Janus saw this coming long before he reached the guard, and brought up his bow in a textbook parry. He spun till his back faced the man, drove his elbow into the man's stomach and felt the air go out of him. With the guard stunned, Janus grabbed the man's wrist with his off hand and hoisted him over his shoulder. The guard fell heavily on the ground, and Janus stabbed him through the heart with an arrow, ending his life quickly and without much fuss.

He knew the sounds of the muskets going off would alert the final pair of guards, and they would be here soon to check out the commotion. Which didn't leave him more than a minute to get clear. Spotting a nearby tree, Janus scaled the thick bark with relative ease, and settled onto a branch as nimbly as a big cat waiting for its prey. And just in time too, for he could hear the heavy footfalls of the guards as they approached.

Sure enough as Janus had anticipated, the last pair of guards arrived together. Like a tiger waiting to pounce, Janus waited for them to turn the corner and when they spotted the two bodies strewn over the floor, they panicked. That split second of confusion was all Janus needed.

He fired a grappling arrow into one of the guards, and the hook sank into his back. Janus tugged on the bow, and the arrow's cable began to recoil itself, hoisting the man off the ground and into the air towards the tree. The guard shrieked in pain as he was carried into the shadow of the tree as if being dragged off by some mystical monster, and all of a sudden his cries ceased.

As soon as his partner turned to see what was going on, Janus sprung off the tree and out of the shadows. As he plummeted, Janus unsheathed a dagger from the holster on his belt, and the blade gleamed against the moonlight. He struck the man directly in the heart, sinking the blade all the way in till only the hilt was visible. All that happened before he touched the ground.

Landing noiselessly, the only sound was from the final guard hitting the ground like a dead weight. Janus tore his dagger free, cleaning it in haste on the man's shirt and sheathing it back in his holster. He gave a small sigh of relief. All the guards on patrol were down. But there was always the lingering possibility of the next detail of eight coming to replace them. Then there was the next detail of snipers too. Who knew when they would come? He hadn't been able to keep track of time. I have to move fast.

Janus ran to the front of the prison building where the gate lay between the prison grounds and the rest of the island. Twenty yards beyond, the prison guards' boats were docked at the coast and just waiting to be used. The only thing in his way were the fences with barbed wire and the gate with the large padlock.

The second vial of acid was still hidden safely behind a dislodged piece of stone in a crevice in the wall of his cell. So that meant that he would have to improvise. There wasn't any time to use any of his own little pellets containing acid, since they would take far too long to eat through the lock. Time he didn't have. And so there was only one thing to do.

Standing a safe distance away, he planted his feet and attached a tiny pellet to the tip of his arrow via a tiny slit in the round metal ball. It had been designed that way to be used for this purpose. Nocking the arrow and drawing it back, Janus sighted cautiously. The pellet would create a tiny, controlled explosion upon impact. It needed to hit the shackle directly for any hope of shattering the lock. He only had one shot.

Sucking in a deep intake of air, he steadied his breathing and let fly. The arrow zipped across the air, and a controlled explosion ensued a second after. The sound was loud, loud enough that it would alert any guards in the nearby vicinity to his actions.

Running towards the gate, he waved away the smoke and was relieved to see that the lock had fallen to the ground, the shackle split clean through like someone had taken a big bite out of it. Janus tugged at the gate, and it swung open with an ear-piercing creak.

But at this point, there was no use for stealth or subtlety. If the guards had heard the muskets going off or the explosion, they would be on their way. He made for the coast like a madman, sprinting for all he was worth. His freedom and the freedom of his friends - and Elsa's - hung in the balance. He needed to succeed.

Leaping into the nearest boat, Janus drew a fresh, unstained blade, and cut clean through the rope that tied the boat to a wooden post etched into the sand. The boat bobbed away from the coast, and the waves carried it farther from land as Janus picked up the oars and rowed madly.

His arms began to ache from the rigorous attempts, but he ignored the burning and rowed with a dogged determination, his arms moving mechanically over and over. Forward, backward, and repeat. From afar, he heard distant shouting at the coast.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the tiny blobs of men standing at the edge of the island. He was safely out of musket range, and there was no chance they could pursue and catch up to him, not with the headway he had already made. Pulling back his hood and removing the mask, he let the cold night air cool down his face which was dripping with sweat from all the exertion. Finally, Janus allowed a smile to spread across his face as his heartbeat began to return to its normal pace.

The escape plan worked. Now to find Queen Anna and get help.

Author's Commentary:

This was just so much fun to write. High stakes, high octane action…what more can I say? This is one of my favourite chapters I've ever written thus far. Breaking out of prison is something we never got to see from Janus' past when he escaped from Moordeloch as a teenager. But here, we get to see him as a fully-fledged mercenary kicking ass. Stay with me. The stakes and action are only going to increase from here.