Avoiding piles of trash and dry leaves, he jogged down the alley. He turned left into another alley and right into a slightly larger street, but he heard their footsteps drawing closer and closer.
They weren’t aiming for silence anymore.
They’d catch him before he reached safety. Especially since he’d gotten turned around. He hated to admit he was lost, but nothing looked familiar. None of the windows were lit by even a single candle, much less by a lantern. Didn’t anyone live in this neighborhood?
He halted and huddled into the darkest corner of a recessed doorway. The wood reeked of urine and old blood. What kind of place was this, anyway?
Footsteps clattered closer.
He sucked in a shaky breath and tugged his jacket across his chest. If he couldn’t pull off an illusion now he was lightning blasted.
The book said it would require a lot of pressure the first time. What could be more stressful than being hunted by a gang?
He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on creating an illusion of himself, a vague, blond apparition in an oversized jacket dashing down the street. He willed it with all of his strength and being, he willed it with all of his fear and belief.
Sweat washed his face. His heart hammered against his lungs.
He willed it until his time ran out.
Nothing happened. Not even the smallest shadow or flicker.
Footsteps turned onto the street and headed toward him.
Defeat. Defeated again. He leaned back and waited for the gang to catch up. All he could do was pray that the shadows would hide him. Stillness and silence were his only hope.
He hunched into himself and closed his eyes.
If he got out of this mess in one piece, he’d light seven candles to the Powers. No, seventy candles. Even if he had to run errands for the neighbors for a lunar to pay for them.
The footsteps pounded up to him, and passed him by. The gang sprinted up the street, paused at the corner, and dashed to the left.
Praise the Thunderer. He hoped nobody else was out tonight. He’d never seen so many gang members together, not even on the day Faye rescued him.
He crawled out of his hiding place and slunk back the way he’d come. If he could get to one of the main streets he might have a chance. But he’d better hurry. It wouldn’t take them very long to realize that he’d gotten away.
He crept around the corner and skulked into the shadows of the alley.
“Captain! There he is. He’s trying to sneak off.”
Captain? Oh, no, not them. Not –
“Capture him,” Jorjan shouted. “Spread out.”
Viper ran.
He tried to stay on the wider streets, but the gang herded him into alley after narrow alley. Whenever he had a choice, he headed uphill. He ran doggedly and prayed he would find help at Trader’s Inn.
It felt like he was running in circles.
He dashed around a corner and bolted onto a wide street. Outland Ter? He must be near the tavern and safety.
Jorjan and the pocked-faced boy stepped out into the road in front of him.
Viper spun to flee downhill.
Pop-eyed Fish panted toward him, flanked by several smaller boys.
He fled in the only direction left open to him, back into the alley.
Stamping feet paced close behind him.
Viper dashed around a corner and glanced back. The gang was out of sight, so he climbed a pile of trash and jumped over the fence. He sprinted across a dismal courtyard, slipped through a hole in another fence, and crawled out into a street he’d never seen before. Gasping for air, he staggered down the tomb-dark street.
How much longer could he run? How much farther before he could find help?
Trader’s Inn couldn’t be far away. He slowed to check for pursuit before crossing another wide street. No one was behind him. Up the hill, in the distance, he saw lights, people walking. His breathing slowed. He was safe now.
He peeked around the dark corner – and stared at the belly of a braid-covered jacket. He looked up into a pock-scarred face.
“Good evening, Goldie.” Kraken smiled and snatched him by the hair.
Thunderer’s dice! He swung both fists at the braided jacket. His hands throbbed as if he’d pounded on abuelo-hide armor.
Kraken grunted, spun him around by one shoulder, and yanked Viper’s back tight to his body.
He pounded on one braided cuff.
Kraken jerked his arm away. He covered Viper’s face with one hand, his fingers tight over his victim’s mouth. His thumb pressed against Viper’s eye. “Fight me and I’ll eat your eyeball.”
Light flared behind his eye. Pressure jabbed into his skull. Viper froze. What could he do? A one-eyed warrior was useless. Nameless. Most fed themselves to the bahtdor.
Kraken’s other hand crushed his shoulder. “Now you’re going to pay for all this running around you’ve made us do.”
He hadn’t made anyone do anything. The stinking vulture had no right to blame him. He tried to shake his head, but the monster tightened the thumb over his eye and dragged him forward.
Breath wheezed through his nose in tiny gasps. If only he could open his mouth to shout for help. He had to escape, but his knees didn’t want to hold him up. Only the demon’s grasp kept him upright.
Kraken marched him around the corner and toward an alley. “Captain? Game’s up. I claim the kill.”
Jorjan strode out of a side street. He waved for Kraken to halt.
The rest of the gang straggled into the street behind him.
“Quite a run you gave us, lovely child.” Jorjan stroked Viper’s disheveled hair, pushing it back out of his face. “We really will have to take our time with you to make up for it. What, tears? How very sweet.”
Those weren’t tears! His eyes were watering because of the big horny thumb on his eyeball. He wasn’t crying. He wouldn’t cry, no matter what they did.
Jorjan turned to his gang. “Is everyone here? Good. Lead on, Kraken.”
Kraken forced him to walk down street after hell-dark street. At the very end of a windowless alley, the monster released him and walked away.
They’d let him go?
His face burned from the demon’s hand. His eye swiveled sideways before settling properly into its socket. He’d have bruises tomorrow. Would Faye think he’d been reckless? She’d never believe Kraken hurt him.
He scanned the alley for exits. No openings at all. Had they planned this attack? Chosen this place?
A skinny boy dragged a match across stone and lit a small lamp.
How many of these carrion flies were there? Ten, eleven, twelve at least. The odds of an honorable fight were not in his favor.
Kraken took off his braided jacket and handed it to one of the boys. His knife whispered out of its sheath. The bronze blade glittered wickedly, as if its edges were jagged.
Viper shuddered. A trick of the light. Only the maddest demon hunters serrated their blades.
Even though the night air was cold, all of the gang wiggled out of their coats, and three stripped off their shirts. Why? Were they afraid his blood would splash on them?
Could he climb the side of the building? Not fast enough. Kraken was too close, too tall. The whole gang would mob him before he got above their heads.
Jorjan chuckled. “Now we’ll see the knife work that made Kraken famous. This time we will not be so rudely interrupted.”
“You do know what we’re going to do don’t you, pretty whore?” Kraken grinned and stalked forward. “Look at you shake. Yes, of course you know.”
No, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. He’d seen slaves who’d been beaten, but he’d never been forced to watch.
“So let’s get started.” Kraken struck like a rattlesnake. He grabbed Viper’s shirt at the belly. Before he had time to react, the knife flicked through the air and ripped his shirt from neck to hem, but left his chest unmarked.
The gang jeered.
Two m
ore strikes demolished his jacket. Kraken yanked off the remains and threw the rags at the gang. One boy grabbed them, tore them into shreds, and stomped the rags into mush.
Why cut off his jacket? His clothes wouldn’t even slow down their fists. At least they weren’t collecting rocks. He couldn’t bear being stoned like a slave again.
“Such a shame.” Jorjan draped his wrist against his forehead and sighed in mock mourning. “Now our poor little friend will have to go home shirtless. No blood, yet, Kraken. I’ll bet you three shillings that he won’t be still enough for you to finish the job bloodless.”
Kraken laughed and strutted forward. “You’re on. I’ll let you draw the first blood.” He strolled toward Viper and herded him back into a corner.
If he head-butted the vulture in the gut, would that give him time to climb out of reach? Only if none of them knew how to throw a knife. Even if the blade missed, the impact would knock him off the wall.
One pale moon peeked between the clouds. Light flickered off the bronze knife as Kraken inched forward. The knife wavered through the air in a hypnotic pattern, like the head of a plains viper stalking prey. Slowly, so slowly, the knife hooked in the waistband of Viper’s trousers.
He watched in stunned disbelief as the knife drew down his leg, shearing the fabric, leaving his leg and hip bare.
What was the point in stripping him? Were they trying to reduce him to the status of a nameless slave? He’d never believe that lie. Not even if they stoned him. He was Setoyan. He’d chosen a name.
The knife turned toward the other leg. He tried to dodge away.
Hard fingers closed around his throat and crushed him back against the wall. Blast. Somehow he’d forgotten that Kraken’s hand guided the knife.
The stinking vulture was forced to release Viper’s throat to cut the cloth below his knee, but by then there was nothing holding his trousers to his body. Kraken backed away and threw the remnants to the broken-nosed boy, who searched through the pockets before shredding the cloth.
“Poor sweet child,” Jorjan drawled. “Now he’ll have to walk home in his boots. You’re not finished yet Kraken.”
Kraken stuck his knife in his belt and sauntered closer to Viper. He stood with his eyes closed, swaying a little, but endlessly patient.
This is what the worm-tongued jackal wants, but if I don’t try I’ll never forgive myself.
He lunged for the knife.
Kraken grabbed him by his elbows and dumped him onto his back. His boots came free with two quick tugs. Two more slashes with the knife shredded his socks.
Viper scrambled off the cold cobblestones and backed against the tenement wall.
The demon bowed to his audience.
The gang applauded like a warren of rutting conies thumping both hind legs against the dirt. Even Jorjan smirked and clapped his hands.
They weren’t paying much attention to him, though. This might be his last chance to escape. He could climb much faster in bare feet than in boots, and they wouldn’t expect him to try now.
He spun around and leaped up as high as he could. His fingers and toes scrabbled for cracks between the stones. Four feet up, five–
Kraken grabbed his hips, jerked him off the wall, and swung him back to the ground.
Jorjan laughed. “How droll. We’ve acquired a golden monkey.”
“Three shillings.” Kraken grabbed Viper’s hair and thrust him toward Jorjan. “Now it’s your turn to draw blood.”
They planned to kill him. They planned to bleed him to death. Not even the cruelest warriors did that to their slaves.
Heat leached from his body. He shivered harder than if he’d stood naked in a snowstorm instead of a grimy alley. This was what the Zedisti called civilization?
The gang snickered and crept closer.
Icy sweat poured down his face, down his chest.
“Hey, Cap’n,” Fish whined. “You promised me his face. I want to mash him like he done me.”
“Later, Fish.” Jorjan’s eyes devoured Viper’s naked body. “After we’ve all had our fun, you can beat him all you want. We have all night.”
They didn’t care about his blood. They wouldn’t bother to steal his life.
They planned to destroy his name.
Chapter 28.
When she saw old Trevor fidgeting in the torchlight in front of Trader’s Inn, Lorel stopped cold in the middle of Borderline Lane. Rain dripped down her face while she stared at him. What was the old man doing?
His wide-brimmed hat shed so much rain it looked like a bucket of ale sloshed over him, though his coat appeared dry. He couldn’ta been waiting there long, then. The old man was crazy, but not crazy enough to stand out in the rain in the middle of the night. And where was the kid?
Gone for a carriage, maybe? Not likely. The old man always walked. She’d never seen him in a carriage, or even on a horse.
And she hadn’t seen him out alone in ages. He never went nowhere without the kid, and he hardly ever let the kid out alone.
So where was the kid?
Wouldn’t know until she asked. The old man wouldn’t rat on her. He’d forget he’d ever seen her. He’d likely forgotten who she was.
She marched up to the old man and opened her mouth.
Trevor spoke first, and spoke fast. “Have you seen Viper? He should have been here hours ago.”
Weaver’s cold toes. “I ain’t seen him in days.” He’d been busy studying for dreizhns. And proud of it. What’s he doing out at night, alone?
She musta said the words aloud. Old Trevor glanced at her and raised both eyebrows. “He was to meet me here tonight. I came early to visit a friend. Viper promised to arrive in time to audit the meeting of the Society.”
He promised to do what with who? Lorel shook her head. It didn’t matter none. “We gotta find him.”
“Agreed.” Trevor waved one hand over the city. “But where do we look? I can’t imagine what could have distracted him from a Society meeting.”
She could imagine, and all her thoughts were bad. If the kid said he’d be someplace, he got there. Maybe late, but he got there. That left trouble.
That left the gangs.
Or really, the gang that beat little kids to death. Jorjan’s gang.
Trevor was watching her with sad eyes. “You know where he is.”
She shook her head. Cold rain shimmied down her back. “I got a guess where trouble mightta found him. Someplace to look, anyways. I’ll find him.” If they hadn’t thrown him into the river, she would. More children had gone missing than Joshua and Gen. Once she’d started asking, the fishermen and smugglers told her about lots of little bodies. Over twenty so far this year, and those just the ones they’d pulled out and buried.
Why hadn’t anyone told her before? Hadn’t she kept track of the gangs for the last year? Hadn’t she warned people when they started making trouble?
She shook her head again. They had worries enough for one night. “You go on home. I’ll find him.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No way. Not where I’m going.” The gangs would beat the crap out of the old man. Any gang whose territory they crossed would tear him apart.
He just looked at her, all serious. Not the silly old man she was used to seeing. “I’m coming with you.”
“They’ll kill you!”
Trevor held one cupped hand in front of him. Light glowed from his palm. “No one will bother us.”
Fraying magic crap. Still, it was his funeral if his stupid magic wasn’t enough to scare off the gangs. Lorel shrugged and stalked down Outland Ter.
Maybe the rain would keep the bullies inside. She hoped so, for the kid’s sake. Maybe he’d forgotten to leave his studying.
Not likely. The kid was in trouble, she just knew it. She walked faster.
Trevor strode beside her, his glowing hand leading the way.
That wouldn’t do. Some fraying Nashidran was sure to raise a ruckus about a Zedisti doing magic insid
e the city. She turned left into Greenhorn Alley and led him through the poorest section of town. Nobody’d dare complain around here. Nobody’d listen to them if they did dare.
The old man looked at the crumbling tenements and sighed. “This used to be a lovely part of the city. I’m dismayed to see how badly it has decayed.”
When had he been up here last? A hundred years ago? This quarter had been falling apart forever. Or at least for as long as she could remember. Dad said the Nashidrans tore it up bad during the invasion.
Rain dripped down the pock-marked buildings like tears. Rain drooled down her braid, under her collar, and scuttled down her back. Mist surrounded Trevor’s glowing hand, drinking up the light.
Rotted plants and rotting flesh stank up the air as they crossed Tanner Street. Why did the dyers’ and tanners’ areas always stink more at night? It made her life easier, in some ways, knowing exactly where she was just by the smell, but harder too, since she didn’t always smell the drunks before they grabbed her. None of them ever grabbed her twice, though. She’d gotten Ahm-Layel’s elbow-in-the-gut down perfect. She’d even learned how to move out of the way before they puked on her.
She led Trevor down Silver Street to Little Mary Alley. Her stomach started to hurt. The kid was out here someplace.
They jogged two blocks down Old Mary Street and turned into Tom Tanner Alley. Right now she knew how those drunks felt. She wanted to puke so bad her teeth hurt. This was all her fault. Jorjan said he’d get revenge, but she never dreamed he’d go after anybody but her.
But maybe the kid wasn’t here. Maybe he’d turned up at Trader’s Inn right after they left. Maybe he was safe.
She started to run as soon as she turned onto Blue Dye Alley. Trevor’s footsteps kept pace with her. His misty light showed–
An empty alley. Nothing moved. Not even the lump of pale rags in the far corner.
Trevor pushed past her and nearly knocked her down. Light faded from his hand as he knelt by the bundle of rags.
Dawn lightened the wet alley, but her heart went dark. That bloody lump couldn’t be a child, couldn’t be alive. Couldn’t be the kid.
Illusion's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 1) Page 24
