“Locals are nice enough it seems…” Morra’s disdain was hot and heavy.
She walked on and the duo of outsiders soon came to the bottom of the hill and no longer had their nice birds eye view over the valley city. Instead they were now faced with a jungle of brick, wood, stone, and glass from every direction. Morra looked every which way, seemingly at nothing and at everything simultaneously. It wasn’t long before she plopped down on the edge of a great stone fountain that lay at the center of a marketplace they stumbled into. Naurus sat down next to her and thought she was just resting and doing some people watching. A few of the residents looked sidelong at them but the hustle and bustle of the cities many denizens would not stop to gawp at the outsiders. Morra was staring blankly down the cobblestone street and seemed to have totally zoned out.
“So…all rested up now?” Naurus asked.
Morra didn’t reply.
“Hey, want to keep on going?”
“Go where?” Morra asked curtly.
“I don’t know…I thought you knew?”
“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m flat out lost at this point. What used to be a rinky-dink town is now a sprawling city I don’t recognize. This is bullshit! I don’t know why they would bother telling me that not much has changed yet everything has changed!” She whined with a frustration that Naurus hadn’t heard before.
“Who’s they?”
“It doesn’t matter now. None of this shit matters now. I now have more questions than answers.”
Naurus was silent for a few long moments, but the chatter and clatter of daily life all around them went on unceasingly.
“It’s been a long day, maybe we need a drink or two?”
She looked over and smiled strangely at him.
“Yes…perhaps that is exactly what we need. I don’t know where to go though…” She trailed off.
“Well, lets go walk and find somewhere!”
That is exactly what they did, and after walking in circles a few times and stumbling into a bath house full of the elderly, they finally found something that looked promising. It was only apparent by the telltale stumbling of patrons from out of the door and onto the street, some with bottles still in hand. One poor soul was happily napping the day away in the gutter outside, cuddling his empty glass bottle while blissfully unaware of how uncomfortable he really was. The unassuming brick façade didn’t seem to have any sign around it indicating what is was, but the stink of booze was apparent before they even got to the door. Fastened to the wooden door was a brass plate which stated: Absolutely NO firearms allowed!
“Hmm…” Morra pondered out loud, absent mindedly playing with the holster strapped to her leg. “Let’s do something about this.”
She led him into a shadowy alleyway that they were adjacent to, and she looked around to make sure they were all alone.
“Okay look here, give me your revolver and I’m going to tuck them into the back of my belt and drape my tunic over it. I don’t think it should print very much like that. Likewise, turn around so I can hide this in the small of your back.”
He obeyed, and she took the mare’s leg in its holster off her leg and tucked it into his belt. She tied the leather straps onto his belt and gave it a quick tug to test it out.
“Perfect!” She proclaimed.
“Maybe we could just hide them in our packs?” He started to protest.
“Well it’s not very practical to pull that out of your man purse now is it? Don’t be silly, no one will be any the wiser. What they don’t know can’t hurt them.” She said with a smirk and led him back out onto the street.
They made their way inside and were greeted by a haze of smoke inside a large, vaulted room. Tables and booths were scattered about, and the drunken clamoring of the inebriated masses echoed off the dirty plaster walls. A hazy light streaming in from the grimy windows filled the area.
“LET’S GO CHAMP!” Someone yelled from off to their right.
They looked over to see a ring of people surrounding a wooden platform with two pugilists circling the center. One was pale, portly, and looked rather out of place. The other was dark as the night is long with a musculature that looked carved from stone. His bald head and thick goatee glistened with a sheen of sweat.
“LET’S GO CHAMP!” The ebony man yelled again, clenching his cestus wrapped fists and launching a barrage of punches at his pudgy foe.
The last punch hooked right under the ribcage and the pale fellow crumbled like a stale biscuit.
“CHAMPS TAKIN’ RIBS FOR DINNER, THAT’S RIGHT. I’M TIRED OF FIGHTING THESE BUMS. I’M TIRED OF FIGHTING PIES. WHO’S NEXT? I’M THE CHAMP!” The ebony pugilist seemed to only have one volume, and that was all the way up.
Nobody from the audience seemed too keen to take up the offer. Morra and Naurus shared a shrug and a chuckle at the strange customs of this land. They made their way back over to the bar against the back wall. It was quite crowded, and progress only slowed as they drew closer. As they were squeezing between a table and a booth, Naurus felt someone tugging on his shirtsleeve and looked over. A disheveled old man with a beard like a blizzard looked up at him with cloudy eyes.
“Have you heard of the high elves?” The old man’s voice quaked.
“What? Something about high elves?”
“Yes! Have you heard of the—”
Naurus was yanked away with a firm tug by Morra who clearly didn’t care about the high elves.
“Don’t chit-chat with strangers.” She admonished. “That’s just some old kook off his rocker anyway. Come on we need to find a spot up here.”
They finally drew up to the large, semi-circular bar and just barely managed to squeeze themselves into a gap that had just opened. They patiently awaited the attention of the barkeep. Naurus looked around and realized they looked rather out of place. They certainly didn’t share the fashion sense the locals did, nor did their hair styles seem to mesh up either. Some odd looks were being cast their way, but he though little of it until a loud, thumping slap cracked out next to him. He noticed Morra immediately stiffened straight up and inhaled sharply before wheeling around. Naurus followed suit to see a colorfully dressed man bedazzled with fancy gems and jewelry. He smiled impishly.
“Excuse you!” Morra complained loudly.
The fancy man cocked an eye brow. “Well damn girl, you thicker than a bowl of oatmeal! I just had to show my appreciation!”
“Well I don’t appreciate it!” Morra was getting visibly angry. “Keep your pudgy little hands to yourself!”
The volume was drawing some interest as some patrons around them were now paying close attention. Naurus tugged at the back of her sleeve trying to see if she would take the hint to disengage and turn back around, but all he received was a sharp jab in the ribs.
“Well now, no need to start a scene here chickee. You should learn how to take a compliment seeing as you clearly aren’t from around here.”
“And what if I don’t feel like taking a compliment from you? Not now, not ever! Touch me again and I’ll break your little fingers off one by one!” Morra shook off her pack and cloak which thudded to the ground.
The fancy man flashed a toothy smile which revealed several gold and silver capped teeth. He made a motion over his shoulder which drew up a pair of men sharply dressed in dark three-piece suits.
“Well boys…looks like we got ourselves a feisty yellow-bone here. He started, then motioned to Morra. “I’d say you should apologize for making such a scene out of this, it was quite unnecessary after all!”
Morra took a step forward and was now within arm’s reach of the fancy man and his companions.
“And what if I don’t apologize? Pray tell, what if I don’t?”
The fancy man stopped smiling and started slowly timbering back and forth. Naurus recognized this pre-attack cue from his training and realized this was quickly going south. He didn’t have to wait long to see how his theory played out. The fancy man suddenly threw
a looping slap, but she grabbed it out of the air and wrapped up a fistful of the chains around his neck. She yanked him into a headbutt which sent the man reeling back sans the now broken chains.
Pandemonium broke out as the patrons around them cleared away and the two suited men both jumped on Morra before she could react. She shoved one off and was winding up to punch the other before a third man came seemingly from nowhere and grabbed her arm before she could throw the punch. Now she was dogpiled by three, and Naurus realized that none of them realized he was with her. He took his satchel off and swung in a large loop around his head, aiming a blow to the back of the head of the nearest target he could find. It connected with a solid slap, and the suited man turned heel away from Morra. Naurus dropped the satchel and bladed his stance, putting up his guard.
Throw first, throw hard, throw last. There is no substitute for violence of action. Her words burned through his head as he stepped forward with a stiff jab that was blocked, followed up by a right hook which deflected off the top of his opponent’s head. He hadn’t time for a third shot before his opponent shoved him away and charged at him. Naurus started rapidly alternating between touching each elbow of his with the opposite hand while his guard was up, flashing his arms in front of him like a butterfly. The suited man stopped his charge and looked confused for a moment. Exactly as intended, the fifty-two blocks wasn’t as stupid as I thought! Naurus mused for a moment before poking out another jab which connected square with the man’s forehead, forcing him to step back and recompose. He followed up with another jab and a straight, which connected with his opponent’s eye socket who then wrapped him up and they started tussling.
In the midst of this, Naurus noticed the fancy man was back up and now his golden silk shirt was ruined from the blood dripping from the man’s face. He had a glass bottle in his hand, which he wasted no time in breaking over the bar top and lunged over towards Morra. Naurus tried to shout a warning, but instead ate a punch to his nose while he was distracted. He was suddenly a bit dizzy and couldn’t focus his eyes very well but retaliated with a pair of furious hooks to the man’s ribs which crumpled him. Naurus looked over to see a painful sight which he was powerless to stop despite his desperately shouted warning. The fancy man took the shattered bottle and shoved it deep into Morra’s floating rib, resulting in a sickening howl that rang out from wall to wall.
She attempted to jerk away but was held fast by the now three men who were piled onto her. The back of her shirt was now torn across the back, revealing the butts of the revolvers which the fancy man made a move for as Morra jerked violently and yelled out in a strange tongue. Whether or not the fancy man reached what we wanted was not apparent, as Naurus was blinded by a blazing blue flash while rushing towards her. A deafening pall of silence blanketed him. He swore he could feel himself blinking but nothing could be seen except for a pulsing blob of black, blue, and red. He tried rubbing his eyes, but his arms felt like they were simply nonexistent. Strangely, he felt a steady pressure against his eyeballs. The silence filling his ears was slowly replaced by the thumping beat of his heart and a shrill ringing.
His vision started clearing up. Hands were on his face. His own hands. An agonizing prickling pain shot through his body with a fury like lightning in his veins. He could feel his body now, and he could smell the sharp combination of smoke and ozone. He looked around, realizing he was laying on the ground. With no idea how he ended up there, he sat up with a tremendous and painful effort. Everything hurt, but it immediately became apparent he wasn’t the only casualty. Where Morra was once standing was a smoldering circle of burnt wood from which smoldering black tendrils spiderwebbed across the floor. In and around the room dozens lay in varying states of consciousness, with some thrashing about in pain and yet others totally motionless with smoldering clothes and hair. The three men that were on Morra looked to have it worst of anyone. Naurus stepped over them as the stench of their charred hair and flesh almost made him vomit.
He desperately looked around, quickly regaining his faculties. He just caught a glimpse of Morra stumbling out the door, with panicked patrons scrambling out in front of her. Naurus followed her as quickly as he could and although his legs felt like wood, he managed to make it to the door and look down the street to see Morra stumbling towards the alleyway that they had ducked into earlier. He soon caught up to her as she braced against the wall, clutching the gash in her rib which was bleeding profusely. She was panting with pain and Naurus helped her into the alley as best he could where she slumped over a barrel.
“By the gods!”
Naurus looked over to see a pudgy young man staring at them, and at the bloody wound of Morra’s in particular.
“Assault! Assault! Guards! Somebody get the guards!” The man yelled out as he darted down the street.
Morra collapsed against the wall between a pair of barrels and looked up at Naurus with sorrowful eyes burning deep in her now pale, bloodied face.
“You have to go…now!” She rasped with a scratchy voice.
“No, I can’t!” He protested. “We have to leave together, I’ll carry you!” He desperately attempted to pull her up by her arms.
She shook her head and groaned. “No, you idiot! Stop…please just go. You can’t carry me…you’ll be too slow. Run…run as fast as you fucking can. Run far, far away…run until your lungs burst. You have to run!”
“But…no we can do this I’ll—”
“You will run and that’s an order! You still have your mare’s leg?” She asked with a sparkle in her eyes.
He reached around back and pulled it out, setting it in her lap as she motioned him to do so.
“Good…with this I make my final stand.”
“I wish…I wish you didn’t—”
“I know.” She butted in. “I know you wish I just walked away. It’s just not in my nature to stand down. I speak different languages…but violence is the only one I understand.”
Naurus didn’t know how to respond, but his feet felt rooted to the ground.
“Know your enemy and know yourself…victory is certain. Know neither yourself nor your enemy…defeat is inevitable. May Fortune smile upon you for all time. It’s been such a good run with you…I’m sorry it had to end this way. NOW GO!” Her voice echoed in the narrow alley with a frightening resonance.
Naurus looked up and saw a few people pointing down the alleyway at them, beckoning to people unknown down the street. He saw Morra pull out the revolvers and set them next to her. She shot him a baleful glance, after which he turned tail and ran down the alley as fast as his stiff legs could carry him. As he made it out to the adjacent street a raging eruption of gunfire roared from behind him, but he dared not look back. He only kept running as fast and hard down the street as he could. The locals stared at him strangely, some gasping as they cleared out his way. Something wet covered his lips but licking them only filled his mouth with a salty, metallic taste. He wiped his mouth only to find a smear of blood on his arm. Looking down, it became obvious his nose was bleeding with abandon all over himself, yet now was not the time to stop.
His lungs burned, he panted and wheezed, the street never seemed to end. He had no idea where to go or what to do, but he had no time to think about all of that. He shook his head to try to clear the blockage in his nose, but when he looked back ahead the last thing he remembered seeing was a fist coming at his face.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Wait up! Do you hear that?”
“Yeah…I do. Gunshots…sounds like its comin’ from o’er there. Wanna check it out?”
“Of course I do! Let’s go!”
Trevin led the way through a winding cross of narrow streets as the gunfire went silent. They emerged onto a street full of clamoring people and commotion as far as the eye could see.
“Someone been shot!”
“By the Gods! Murder!”
“Something’s on fire! Quick, water!”
Trevin and Gully muscled through the crowd,
but they hardly needed to smell the smoke to know there was a fire close by. A plume of dark, sooty smoke poured out from a nondescript brick building just a furlong away. Outside was a jostling crowd that mobbed around various people who were strewn around the street, some moving with audible agony and others moving not at all. Some men rushed into the burning building with buckets of water, emerging later with sooty faces and violent coughing fits.
“What in hell happened here?”
“I don’t know Gull, but you see those people rushing in and out the alleyway? What’s that about?”
“I can’t say, but seems they are all wearin’ the same sort o’ uniform.”
This observation became painfully apparent as they drew up within a stone’s throw, making judicious use of the chaos to melt through the crowd. Relatively young women could be seen wearing light linen robes and matching garrison caps. All carried a hemp satchel on which was prominently stitched a caduceus. They seemed to be answering to an older, elderly couple who stood tall yet markedly aged, dressed rather conservatively as if in mourning. Suddenly, out from the alleyway came a pair of the uniformed women and it soon became apparent they were carrying a stretcher anchored by another pair who soon exited the alleyway.
“Wait…what?!” Trevin could hardly believe what he was seeing. “That can’t be her…is it? Am I going mad?”
“Calm down!” Gully admonished. “It sure looks like the same woman to me. That could only mean—”
“Yes, my son was with her! But I don’t see him. We need to—”
He was suddenly drowned out by loudly barked orders.
“MOVE! MAKE WAY! EVERYBODY MUST GO HOME NOW!”
Trevin and Gully where summarily displaced by a sizable contingent of heavily armed guards, who made quick work of shoving aside those who were merely sightseeing and not helping the wounded or the blaze nearby. Their dark blue coats and black tricorns bore badges featuring three interlinked, silver stars. Trevin scrambled to get to the alleyway and was hardly able to look down it before being dragged away by two of the burly guards.
Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2) Page 11
