Guards Vestige

by Alexander Adams

  Griffon looked at Dale as he lay still on the floor, his eyes blank and staring straight ahead as what little color had been in his skin drained away. The veins on his neck turned a sickly green that worked its way up to his face. The ranger retrieved the weapons from the floor before walking over to the corpse. Reaching down, the ranger lifted Dale’s hand away and pulled out a long, needle-thin dart from the center of the dead man’s throat. He wiped the blood off on Dale’s shirt and placed it in the appropriate belt pouch before turning to face Griffon.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. She said nothing and simply looked at him. “Is that a no?”

  She stammered out her response. “Oh, uh, no, I’m fine. Who are you?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Who are you?”

  “Griffon Hart.”

  “Well, Griffon, I thank you for the little bit of assistance you were able to provide in dealing with Mr. Dale. But now you need to leave.”

  She felt rooted in place. She glanced at the door and saw Fox lying next to it. “Will he be all right?”

  The ranger followed her gaze and shrugged. “He’s fine,” he said, “though he’ll have a rather severe headache in a few hours.” He looked at her again. Even with his eyes hidden, she felt the stare. “You will too if you don’t leave now.”

  She was clearly over the line and managed to force her legs to move. She stepped past him. When she was several steps away, she quickened her pace and jogged out the door, slamming headfirst into a full-fledged rainstorm. She broke into a run.

  Chapter Six

  14th of Horace, 26th year of the Fourth Age.

  Griffon sat on her bed with her back tucked into the corner of her room. She ran her hand over the still-tender bruises along her neck and cheek. Her father hadn’t been happy that she’d lost the contract and had dived into a bottle, followed by the familiar routine of teaching his daughter what it was like to disappoint him. Now she hid away in her room with Richard while her father sat at the table in the main room with no sign of stopping what he had started the day before. She’d lost count of how many bottles he’d gone through in such a short time. She hated having to live like this, having to hide because she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. What had happened in the alley with Fox and Dale was no different.

  She still had no idea what that had been about and hadn’t seen the Dragon Guard since. An investigation to look into the incident had been started by the city watch earlier that morning. As far as she knew, there hadn’t been any developments, but they were looking for the man or woman that had killed Dale and the others. They hadn’t tried to contact her for questioning. It seemed Fox refused to speak for most of the night, or so the rumors were saying.

  Griffon was thankful to not be involved anymore but still wondered why the Dragon Guard had killed Dale. It had clearly been a planned attack on the ranger’s part, an assassination. But did the members of the Dragon Guard really do such things? She had heard rumors around the city about things like this but had never given them much thought.

  Griffon was startled by a light knock on the window. Richard looked at her curiously as they both stood and went to the window. She looked through but saw no one in the alley. She knew she wasn’t just hearing things, so she pushed the window open to peer out. She looked both ways and down the narrow alley behind their house and still saw no one.

  “You should start looking up more often. Could save you time.”

  The voice made Griffon jump back and nearly fall to the floor as she tripped over her own feet, but Richard reached out and caught her arm to pull her back up. She composed herself as quickly as she could before she and her brother leaned out and craned their necks to look up at the hooded Dragon Guard sitting atop the roof with one leg dangling over the side, swinging back and forth. He held a knife in one hand and was slowly peeling the skin off an apple.

  “What are you doing here?” she said more out of shock than curiosity.

  “Griff, who is this?” Richard asked.

  “If I’m being perfectly honest,” the ranger answered Griffon, “ignoring my better judgement.” He tossed aside a chunk of apple skin.

  She shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Long story short,” he said, “one of Mr. Fox’s employees showed up at the forge before I could finish . . . dealing with the others. So the bodies were found and now Mr. Fox has finally decided to speak. He is claiming that you are responsible for the deaths.” He cut a slice from the apple and popped it into his mouth.

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “He blames me?” she said. “How? Why would he think it was me?”

  Richard retreated back into the room. “Griff, what’s going on?” he asked. “Did you have something to do with what happened?”

  The ranger ignored Richard and answered Griffon: “The last thing he remembers was you standing over two bodies.”

  “But you shot them! There were arrows! Besides, why would I kill them?”

  He cut another slice as he spoke. “Your motive would be Mr. Fox getting the contract and you letting your anger get the best of you. Your method, regardless of how ridiculous it is . . . seems to be irrelevant since you are the only suspect.”

  She hated to admit it but, aside from the method, it made sense. Fox had won the contract out from under her and doing so supposedly made her angry enough to assault Fox and kill Dale and the men and women that tried to protect him. It was ridiculous, but they would take Fox’s word over common sense since he had so much influence with the city and its councilmen.

  She shook her head. “So if he blames me, why haven’t guards come to arrest me?”

  “Oh, they’re about to, and that would be the reason I’m here. They’re on their way.”

  She was going to be arrested. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she scolded him: “Why didn’t you say that first?”

  He raised his hands in defense. “To be fair, you kept asking questions,” he said. “But now I’d say you have only a minute or so.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I suggest you either hide or run.”

  “Can’t you help? Tell them it wasn’t me?”

  He sighed and scratched at his chin. “As much as I would like to, doing so would compromise my own task, and I’m afraid if I don’t see it through then many more people will be in a much worse situation than you. As it is, I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Griffon, what is going on?” Richard exclaimed. “Who is he?” He gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him.

  She sighed and started pacing. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, “but yesterday, Mathew Fox and some man named Dale tried to kill me. The guy out there saved me but . . . now the guards think I killed them all.”

  While she couldn’t see him, the ranger continued to add to the conversation: “That really wasn’t all that hard to explain was it?”

  Griffon’s father called her name from the main room. Richard looked at her briefly before he ran to the door and bolted it closed.

  She went back to the window, but when she looked up she found the Dragon Guard was gone and only a few strips of apple skin were left on the ground of the alley in his place. Furious, she walked away from the window and started pacing once more. Her father called her name again, followed by several footsteps making their way to her door.

  She was panicking now. “What am I going to do?” she said. “I can’t go to prison, but they’ll never believe me when I tell them what happened.”

  The handle of the door turned. Her father tried to push it open but was stopped by the iron bolt. “Griffon!” he shouted. “Get out here right now!”

  Richard looked from her to the door and back again. Then he dropped to his knees, pulled up the board that hid Griffon’s stash, and handed her the pouch. “Go,” he said. “I don’t understand
exactly what happened but that doesn’t matter. Just get out of here while you can.”

  Her father started banging against the door furiously as several voices on the other side conferred with one another. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?

  She held the pouch in both hands and looked at her brother. “What about you?” she said. “He’ll be worse than ever.”

  “I’ll be fine. He can’t do much worse than he’s done before.”

  She heard shuffling outside her door. The banging grew fiercer. A gruff voice she didn’t recognize called to her: “We know you’re in there Ms. Hart. Get out here!”

  With no other choice, Griffon climbed through the window and lowered herself to the ground outside. She paused to look at her brother as he gave her a small and timid smile. She turned and started running before she could change her mind or lose her courage. The moment after her gaze left Richard and the room, she heard the wood of the door crack as the bolt broke free. She glanced behind her and saw a city watchman peer out the window and catch sight of her as she bolted through the back alley. She raced through a right turn, aiming for the main part of the city and away from the wall her home sat against. She lost her bearings twice in her rush, but with a quick look at the towering cliffs, she managed.

  Griffon had no idea what her plan was, but she knew to at least keep off of the main streets as much as possible until she could figure it out. After several minutes she finally ceased her frantic run and slumped down against a wall that was well out of sight of any main roadway or window. She placed her head in her hands and tried to think, but all that came to mind was how utterly helpless she felt. She had been threatened out of a contract, kidnapped, and nearly killed. Beaten by her father. Now she was wanted by the city watch for several murders she didn’t commit and she had no way to prove it wasn’t her. All in one day.

  She sat there for a long time, waiting for something to happen, anything to give her a sign of what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t have enough marks to pay for transport on a ship. Even if she did, the only way to the docks was through the one and only gate in the city, and they would never let her through. The longer she sat, the more hopeless she felt. Crime wasn’t a common issue in Forge. When it did happen, the city guards were relentless in ensuring the perpetrators were caught. As if waiting for that very thought, several voices accompanied by the sound of chainmail and armored footsteps drifted her way from around the corner.

  She stood and quickly started off through the alley. Frustrated with her lack of options, she sprinted down the long, narrow path as fast as she could. She made it only a few feet before another group of guards rounded the corner ahead of her. They spotted her immediately and started after her. She skidded to a stop and turned around before ducking into another branch off the byway. She ran as fast as she could, though she had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to get away, to have time to think. But once again she had to slide to a stop as she was met with a dead-end wall. She turned to run back the way she’d come, but had nowhere to go when the guards pursuing her blocked the way.

  There were four of them. The closest took a step toward her. “You’re only making this worse, Ms. Hart,” he said. “Come with us and we’ll make sure you’re treated well enough.”

  Well enough. The words echoed in her head and hit her like a fist to the gut. They didn’t care about what she had to say at this point. She had known from the beginning that her side of the story wouldn’t matter. After hearing her pursuer’s words, she knew that they only intended to take her to a cell. She looked at the walls around her—too high to climb, and no doors or windows to escape through. She had nowhere to go. She had always thought she knew the city well enough to find her way even in the dark, but clearly she had overestimated herself.

  “Ms. Hart,” the man said, “don’t do anything stupid.” The guard in the lead took another step toward her. She continued to step back until she felt the wall against her shoulder blades.

  They all slowly moved toward her. When the one in the lead was close enough, he lunged forward and gripped her by the wrist. Two more flanked her and grabbed her arms and shoulders. She struggled and kicked out at them fruitlessly. She simply wasn’t strong enough to win this fight and she knew it, but she wasn’t going to be dragged into some dark cell in the mountain for a crime she didn’t commit without a fight, no matter how pointless it was. The guards kept an iron grip on her arms as they dragged her down the alleyway toward the main road, and then, just as in the smithy the day before. Something strange happened to her captors.

  The guard in the lead stopped walking and lifted a hand to his neck. Then his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. The guard next to him crouched to look him over while the other two tightened their grip on Griffon. But the second guard proceeded to mimic the first’s actions and slumped over his fallen ally. The guards holding Griffon’s arms released her and looked around fearfully, their hands resting on their sword hilts, though they still blocked Griffon from escaping down the alley by standing in front of her.

  She didn’t try to push past them. Instead, she followed suit and looked up and down the alley. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye from high up. Standing on the roof of one of the buildings lining the alley wall was the Dragon Guard. When the guards had their backs to him he lowered himself to the ground with barely a sound and darted toward them.

  He closed the gap in an instant. His hand axe seemed to appear out of thin air. He flipped it around and struck the first guard across the back of his leg with the blunt end, making him kneel down involuntarily. The ranger then brought his other hand around and with an open palm, struck the first guard square in the face, sending him onto his back.

  The second guard was slow to react. The Dragon Guard was already on him before he had turned to face him. The ranger hooked his arm around the guard’s neck and stood behind him, squeezing. The guard struggled for breath. In his panic, he ignored the sword in his hand. In moments he went still. The hooded man lowered him to the ground as the guard’s sword clanged against the ground. Griffon stared in shock. She had no words for what had just happened. The Dragon Guard stood and placed the axe back in his belt before kneeling down and placing an ear against the guards face, listening for his breathing. With a satisfied nod he stood and began walking away from her. When he was a ways down the alley, he turned and paused.

  “Well, come on,” he called in an annoyed tone. Without waiting for a reply, he started walking again.

  Without any other option, she started after him. He led her back to the main street and down another alleyway to a back road. He took turns onto streets and alleys in a seemingly random manner, though he clearly knew where he was going. At least, she hoped he did.

  They hadn’t seen anyone for several minutes, so she worked up the courage to speak: “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

  “They’ll be fine,” he answered. “Just a little bruised and groggy . . . well, the one will have a rather crooked nose.”

  “I thought you said you couldn’t help me. What changed your mind?”

  “My conscience.”

  She smiled in spite of the circumstances. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m getting you out of the city.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Let me worry about that. Just keep up.”

  He led her through the twists and turns of the city’s side paths until the sky started to grow dark. Finally, they came to a stop at a shabby home set against the place where the wall and the eastern cliff face met. A single lantern, barely hanging on its hinges, lit the one window just to the side of the wooden door. When the ranger pushed it open, its rusted hinges groaned in protest. They stepped inside the small, two-room building and were hit by the heavy smell of mildew and dead rodents.

  “Wait here,” he said. The hooded man stepped through a small door
way blocked by a cloth hanging over the frame.

  Griffon heard a few clicks and the sound of wood scraping against stone before he pulled the cloth aside and motioned for her to follow. When she stepped through, he stood near a hole in the floor. The section that had been in its place leaned against the wall on a set of large rusted hinges.

  “This leads out?” she asked as she stepped nearer to peer into the hole. A ladder led down into darkness.

  “It does. After you, Ms. Hart.” He motioned for her to step down.

  As much as she didn’t want to, she started the slow climb down. After the first few rungs it grew darker and she had to move slower to ensure that her footing was secure. It went further down than she had thought. After a few dozen feet, she finally felt solid ground beneath her. She looked up and saw the ranger was starting his own climb down the ladder with the lantern in hand. After the first few rungs, he reached up and pulled the section of floor back into place. She heard a few soft clicks echo in the tunnel. He quickly reached the bottom and started down the tunnel without a word to her.

  She caught up to and walked side by side with him. “How long has this tunnel been here?” she asked quietly.

  “Years. It’s an old Dragon Guard passage so we can get in and out without being seen.”

  Griffon was quiet for a moment before asking the question that had been bothering her since the event with Dale. “Do all Dragon Guards . . . ”

  “Kill people in smithies? Only if we have to, and not usually in a smithy. But we do ensure it’s for the good of everyone when we do.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How is killing Dale good for everyone?”

  He didn’t answer.