From the mouth of an alley, Bart watched the frantic activity of the guards as they searched for him. He couldn’t believe the fact that he made it out of the castle, let alone was still alive. Backing deeper into the alley, he turned and raced away.
They could no longer remain in the city, he had to return to the inn and warn the others. For a brief second he thought about using the ring, but quickly decided against it. The magic user may have been able to overcome the affects of the poison on the dart. If so, then he didn’t want to do anything which may alert them to his whereabouts.
Upon reaching the end of the alley, he paused in the shadows as a squad of six guards hurried past. The torch held by one of the guards briefly illuminated him as they passed, but none took notice. Once they were past, he left the alley and raced across to the mouth of another on the opposite side of the street. Disappearing into its dark interior, he began making his way back to the inn.
It took him some time before the inn came into view. The streets were swarming with guards and he was forced repeatedly to either hide or take an alternate path to avoid being seen. When at last the inn came into view, he took a moment to scan the area. It seemed quiet, at least quieter than the rest of the city.
Practically every building had at least one person gazing from a window. Though they had been told to remain indoors with their doors locked because a killer was loose, curiosity got the better of some. When he first heard a guard tell a citizen that a mad dog killer was on the loose, he couldn’t help but grin. Mad dog killer indeed!
The inn was ablaze with lights. Most every window was lit, except for two along the second floor. Those had been two of the rooms belonging to him and the others. The fact that they were dark worried him.
A patrol was quick timing it down the street toward where he was gazing from an alley. Bart ducked back in and remained in the shadows until they passed. After they had gone by and the echoes of their footsteps began to diminish, he moved again to the mouth of the alley. Looking out, he saw the coast was clear and started across.
He took but a single step before a voice in the alley behind him said, “They’re not there.”
Drawing his knife, he spun around and made ready to defend himself.
A small form came forward, and in the shadows of the alley, Bart saw that it was a small boy. “Runt?” he asked questioningly.
The shadow nodded. “They fled the city,” he replied. “Killed a bunch of guards and townsfolk during their escape.”
Bart’s eyes darted here and there in an attempt to tell if Runt was alone. Not seeing anyone, he relaxed a little though the knife remained in his hand. “Where did they go?” he asked.
“How would I know?” replied Runt. He came forward another two steps then stopped. His features were somewhat recognizable now. “That was some trick.”
“Trick?” asked Bart, unsure just what he was talking about.
“You disappearing,” he clarified. “Never seen anyone do that before.”
Bart gazed at the lad in uncertainty. “You said they fled,” he said, ignoring the comment about him disappearing. “Do you know which way they fled?”
“Oh yes,” replied Runt. “It was quite spectacular.”
“Spectacular?” asked Bart. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Runt nodded. “Explosions. Lights. There was even a gust of wind that knocked townsfolk every which way.” He then paused a moment before saying, “Best show I ever saw.”
“Which way did they flee?” he demanded.
Runt paused a moment as he gazed at Bart.
“Well?” asked Bart. He didn’t have time simply to stand around talking. He had to get out of here and fast.
“How did you disappear?” Runt finally asked.
“That’s not important right now,” Bart said. “Just tell me which way they fled.”
“If you tell me how you disappeared,” Runt said, “I’ll tell you where they went.”
That was a secret he wasn’t about to reveal to anyone, let alone a street kid. Information of that sort tended to make the rounds and he didn’t want the fact he had the Cloak to become common knowledge. Instead, he pulled forth a coin and held it up. “I’ll give you this if you tell me,” he offered.
Runt looked at the coin being offered and could see it was silver. “I’d rather know about the disappearing,” he said.
A moment later, a second coin joined the first.
“This way!” he heard someone yell from the street. Taking a step back toward the mouth of the alley, Bart glanced down the street and saw a dozen guards running his way. In front of the men was a boy some years older than Runt. It took Bart less than an instant to recognize the boy as being one of the two Runt had called his brothers.
“Why you little…,” he began saying to Runt when all of a sudden, Runt leaped forward and wrapped himself around one of Bart’s legs. The two coins in his hand went flying.
“Assassin!” the boy yelled as Bart kicked and tried to dislodge the little bugger.
“Runt!” Hearing the cry of his little brother, the lad with the guards broke into an all out run toward the alley. A knife glinted in his hand.
Unable to dislodge the boy, Bart was about to strike out with the butt of his knife when another lad emerged from out of the darkened alley. Leaping off of a broken crate lying nearby, Runt’s other brother flew through the air. His body slammed into Bart’s shoulder and hands grabbed the arm holding he knife.
The unexpectedness of the attack caused Bart to lose his balance. Stumbling backward, he hit the ground with a thud. Immediately, he and the older brother began fighting for control of Bart’s knife. While they struggled, Bart kicked at Runt with his free leg.
“Assassin!” Runt screamed again just as Bart’s foot struck him forcefully in the side. Though he grunted from the impact, he didn’t let go.
Bart’s fist repeatedly hammered into the older brother in an attempt to break his grip. Again and again he pummeled the boy mercilessly in the head. When he felt the older boy’s grip relax slightly, he wriggled the captive hand free and struck with the knife.
Aaaaaahhhh!
The boy cried out in pain as the knife sank into his side. With the fight now out of the older brother, Bart struck Runt in the head with the butt of the knife. The first blow did little but elicit a cry of pain. The second one knocked him unconscious. Quickly extricating himself from the now limp body, Bart scrambled to his feet.
“Runt! Parel!” cried the remaining brother as he entered the alley. He saw his two brothers lying amidst the debris littering the alley with Bart standing over them. One was writhing in pain as blood flowed from a wound in his side, and poor little Runt lay unconscious beside him. On his heels, guards boiled into the alley. Bart turned and fled, moving deeper into the alley.
“Kill him!” he heard the brother scream to the guards entering the alley. Fleeing for his life, Bart dodged trash and debris as he ran. Behind him, the guards were hot on his tail.
He had almost reached the end of the alley when more guards appeared before him and blocked his escape. Not willing to give up without a fight, Bart barreled forward. Before the guards even realized he was close, he leaped. At the same time, he pulled the hood of the Cloak over his head just before colliding with the lead guard.
Bart held onto the hood tightly as he and the guards fell in a heap. Once they hit the ground, Bart began to roll. Rolling into the legs of another guard, he had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out as he was knocked to the ground.
“Where did he go?” one of the pursuing guards hollered as they began emerging from the alley.
Hidden by the magic of the Cloak, Bart quickly extricated himself from the pile of bodies and came to his feet. Guards held torches aloft as they scanned the area.
“Curse that assassin!” another guard exclaimed.
“He couldn’t have gone far,” an older guard stated.
As the guard started organizing the rest of them into search parties, Bart quickly left the scene. Once he turned onto a side street and the guards were no longer in sight, he pulled back the hood and became visible once again.
He cursed himself for a fool. He should have known better than to think that anyone here, even someone as innocent seeming as Runt, could be trusted. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make twice.
At least he’d learned that Riyan and the others had fled. But where would they have gone? That question would have to remain unanswered until he was out of the city. Moving through the darkened streets and alleys, he avoided contact with locals and guards alike.
He knew the gates would be closed and closely watched. The earlier reconnoitering he did upon first arriving was of little use now. He had acquired only a good idea of the immediate vicinity around the inn. Now he was paying for his shortsightedness.
All around him the city was awash with lights and moving bodies as they hunted for him. He was fairly confident in his ability to thwart the searchers. It was the magic user from the castle that he was most worried about. Ducking into yet another alley, he waited while six guardsmen hurried down the street.
As the guards were passing by, a noise came from deeper within the alley behind him. One of the guards glanced into the darkened recesses of the alley. Bart pressed himself against the side of an adjacent building, sure that he was found. But the guard failed to see him and soon continued past.
Turning his attention to the darkness of the alley’s interior, he saw movement. The shadow moved forward toward the end of the alley where he was standing. Bart remained motionless except for his hand which moved to clutch his knife. Eyes locked onto the shadow, he braced himself for whatever may come. Then the shadow entered an area that was more illuminated and he saw it to be a drunken beggar.
Relaxing somewhat, he moved along the side of the wall toward the mouth of the alley until he could see down the street in both directions. When he saw it was clear of searchers, he moved out. Behind him, the beggar noticed his movement and mumbled something. Whatever he had said was lost as Bart quickly moved away down the street.
Keeping close to the buildings bordering the street, he stayed in the shadows as best he could. Still not using the protective magic of the Cloak, he instead relied on his time tested skills to keep from being seen. Moving from shadow to shadow, blending in so as to be almost invisible, he worked his way ever closer to the wall surrounding the city. He had to get over before daylight. The time of the thief was during the hours of darkness.
When they first arrived, he had noticed that buildings were built against the inner side of the defensive wall that surrounded the city. Most cities allowed such since the protective wall was designed to keep invaders out, not in. Perhaps one would be tall enough and enable him to reach the top without too much trouble. Those most likely to be allowed to be built the tallest would be along the wall near the river and lake where an attack was less likely.
Praying that he was correct, Bart turned toward the river and quickly made his way through the streets.
“I’m fine,” the magic user said. Next to him were two empty potion bottles. One had held a potion to counter poison, and the other had been a common healing elixir. The use of both had restored much of his vigor and strength.
“He’s loose in the city,” the River Man stated. Inside he was fuming at the escape of the assassin. His men had had him trapped on the wall, but instead of a dead corpse, they allowed him to escape and now he was who knows where? Lending a hand to the mage, he helped him to his feet. “Find him,” he ordered the magic user.
Nodding, the magic user began scanning the ground in the immediate area. “Where’s the dart that struck me?” he asked. A moment later he saw it lying on the ground. Bending over, he retrieved it. “With this I can find him.” Holding it up, he gave his lord a grin.
“Let’s hope so,” replied the River Man.
With the dart placed upon his palm, the magic user spoke several arcane words. When the spell was completed, a silver glow enveloped the dart. Rotating, the point of the dart moved a quarter turn before coming to a stop. Pointing in the direction the dart indicated, the magic user said, “He’s that way.”
“The river.”
Standing across from the building, Bart nodded to himself. This would work. The building in question was at least four stories tall and its roof came to within thirty feet of the top of the wall. The rest of the way he’d have to climb.
At the present, the immediate vicinity before the building was fairly quiet. Those searching for him were off in other parts of the city. After a final glance to make sure the coast was still clear, he crossed the street.
Bart made his way to the front door of the residence. The windows on all four levels were dark and not a sound could be heard coming from within. He used his picks to open the lock and was soon inside.
It was a residence of a wealthy individual, possibly a merchant. Moving quickly, he found the stairway leading to the upper floors. On the second floor landing was a window overlooking the street. He paused a moment to check for any search parties in the area. When he didn’t find any, he continued up to the third, and then the fourth level. Snores were heard coming from down the hallway as he reached the fourth level landing. There had to be a roof access somewhere on this level. Starting with the room closest to the stairwell, he began searching for it.
One by one he searched the rooms on this level, all that was except for the one from which the snores were originating. The door to that room was cracked open and he paused a moment to glance in. In the gloom all he could see was the indistinct shape of someone sleeping in a bed. From the deep vibrations of the snores, he knew it to be a man. Leaving the doorway, he continued searching for the way to the roof.
First a library, then a storeroom, then two other bedrooms that looked to have at one time housed children but were now unused. When he finished with the last room, he knew that he was going to have to go into the room where the man was sleeping. Moving down the hallway to the partially opened door, he gently pushed it open, all the while keeping an eye on the form in the bed.
Once the door had been opened wide enough, he slipped into the room and stopped. From just within the doorway, he scanned the bedroom ceiling for any sign of a roof access. Not finding any, his eyes fell upon a large rectangular shadow in the wall on the far side of the room. Figuring it to be either a closet or storeroom, he knew the access had to be in there.
Stepping ever so softly, he crossed the room to the doorway. Eyes fixed on the sleeping form, he was soon to realize that it wasn’t just one individual in the bed, but two. The second most likely being the man’s wife or mistress.
It turned out the doorway opened onto a small closet. With no light by which to see, he felt around the sides until encountering slats set into the back wall. Nodding to himself, he tested the slats to make sure they would hold his weight, then started climbing to the top. Once his feet were on the third slat, his hand encountered the trapdoor to the roof. It took only a moment to find the bolt securing the trapdoor and release it.
He paused for a second and made sure the sleepers hadn’t been disturbed. When again the snores came, he gently pushed up on the trapdoor. Hinges squealed to a small extent as he raised it several inches. Looking through the opening, he saw the roof was quiet and dark. Opening the trapdoor further, he climbed onto the roof.
A breeze was blowing as he exited through the trapdoor. Closing it behind him, he looked up at the top of the wall some distance above him. Down the wall to the right was a guard tower some fifty yards away. Along the walkway just below the top of the wall strode two archers and a guardsman, the guardsman being almost directly above him and walking toward the left. The archers stood closer to the guard tower and were talking together as they looked out over the city.
Bart moved to the wall and ran his hand along its surface. There were irregularities, small cracks and imperfections time had created, which could be utilized for handholds. He waited against the wall until the guard had moved further past his position, then began climbing.
Such a height wasn’t much of a challenge for him as he slowly made his way up the thirty feet to the top. Every second handhold, he would pause and glance to the archers and the guardsman. When he made sure that he remained unnoticed, he continued.
He was within ten feet of the top when the sound of footsteps atop the wall caused him to freeze. The guardsman was running toward the archers. “Look!” he hollered. Bart glanced up and saw the guardsman’s arm pointing back into the city. Looking over his shoulder, Bart saw a large group of individuals heading their way.
“It’s Lord Kueryn,” said one of the archers.
Bart didn’t know who this Lord Kueryn was, but the sight of so many men heading in his direction couldn’t be good. While the men on the wall were being distracted, he climbed the rest of the way to the top.
“I think his magic user is with him,” the guardsman said.
Bart paused as his hand reached the top. Glancing back, he saw a robed individual in the fore of the mob. And walking beside him was the same man as had been with him in the castle. This had to be Lord Kueryn. How did they find me? Damn magic users!
“Wonder what’s going on?” an archer asked.
“I don’t know,” the guardsmen stated. “But it looks like Killryn is taking his men to the tower in an awful hurry.” Below, a group of a dozen men were racing for the nearest guard tower.
“You think that assassin they’re looking for is nearby?” an archer asked.
“Maybe,” the guardsmen said. “If he is, we better be on the lookout.” Then he turned back and saw a shadow climbing onto the walkway. “There he is!” he shouted. Pulling his sword, the guardsman rushed forward.
Bart was pulling himself up over the edge when the guard shouted. Scrambling the rest of the way, he was quickly up into a crouching position facing the onrushing guard. Behind the guard, the two archers were moving their bows toward him and drawing back to release. He took hold of the Cloak’s hood and pulled it forward. Dodging backward at the same time, he saw the surprise on the guard’s face as he disappeared.
“Magic!” the guard exclaimed. Instead of pausing as Bart had hoped he would, the guard came forward, swinging his sword to and fro in sweeping arcs.
The archers too altered their tactics. Moving to either side of the guard, they began firing arrows in horizontal paths across the walkway.
Keeping in front of the guard, Bart backed up slowly as the guard continued to advance. The guards that had earlier been racing toward the guard tower began emerging onto the walkway behind the archers. He darted a quick glance over his shoulder and saw more guards approaching from behind him. This time, there were two guards standing side by side who were moving their swords to and fro in the hopes of connecting with an invisible body.
Down on the street below, he saw the magic user looking up. His gaze seemed to pierce the exact space where Bart stood. When the magic user began gesturing in similar motions he’d seen Kevik use on numerous occasions, he knew his time was up.
As soon as the archers let fly another volley, he moved to the crenels in the wall and looked down. Easily a hundred feet below was the river. A wide expanse of ground stretched ten feet from the base of the wall to the water.
Whoosh!
From below, a fireball leapt from the outstretched hands of the magic user. Moving incredibly fast, it passed within inches of his back. He could smell singed hair and cloth.
“Aha!” the guard said as his eyes came to rest directly on Bart. Then he rushed forward with a battle cry.
A split second was all he needed to realize he was no longer invisible. The hood of the Cloak was still in position covering his head and the front was closed as it should be. Dancing back from the attack of the guard, he didn’t have time to worry about how the guard could see him.
“Give it up,” the guard said as he came forward.
“I don’t think so,” Bart said. And with that, he leaped to the nearest crenel and then launched himself from the wall. Arcing outward as far as he could to avoid hitting the ground below, he dove for the river.
Arrows flew by him, but so intent was he on the fast approaching water, that he failed to notice them. Then he struck the icy coldness of the water and his lungs froze from the shock of the frigid water. As soon as he hit the water, he altered his direction to more of a horizontal movement so as to avoid hitting the riverbed. Once his downward momentum came to a stop, he kicked for the surface. Gasping for air, he worked to get his lungs working as he swam for the far shore.
From atop the wall, shouts were heard and arrows fell like rain. As they peppered the water around him, he felt one embed itself into his pack. Swimming furiously, he reached the shore and quickly left the water. Zigzagging from the river bank, he raced across the hundred feet of open ground to the cover of the outlying buildings.
A group of curious citizens witnessed his flight from the river. Those directly in his path fled as Bart came toward them with the naked blade of his knife gleaming in the moonlight. The arrows ceased their pursuit just before he gained the nearest building. Pausing for a moment, he turned his gaze back toward the top of the wall.
Packed with guards, the wall was ablaze from dozens of torches. Just before he turned to flee, he saw the unmistakable figure of Lord Kueryn appear. One of the archers pointed to where he stood in the shadows and the lord’s gaze turned upon him. Hidden as he was in the shadows, it was unlikely the man could actually see him, more likely searching his last known location.
Turning his back to the wall, Bart fled.