Kemora Quickfeet was well-informed about the mask the illusionist carried. An accomplice of Revwar and Savannah, Kemora had a use for that magical trinket. Soon a performance like no other would be viewed by elements of nobility in the presence of the Brotherhood of the Circles. Kemora had to be present, but she faced one slight problem. She was a domid, otherwise known as a halfling by the larger races. Standing only three feet, five inches tall, her lack of height would make her stand out among the tall races. No halflings were on the guest list. The mask would be her key to slip into the prestigious event without raising questions. The domid could use the mask to blend among the humans, and Jentan Mollamos taught her all she needed to know about how to use it. She might even remember to thank him for it, after she robbed his guildmate of that precious item.
Kemora wore tan and gray clothes under a black cloak. Such colors helped her to hide in the dark, or mix into a crowd without calling attention to her. The domid’s long, brown hair was tied up into a bun on her head. The woman had a long face and nose, with a spattering of brown freckles in her cheeks. Light blue eyes watched the pace of Wendall’s steps, trying to estimate the true size of her target beyond the covering of the human illusion. Domids were often mistaken for human children, and Kemora didn’t mind if she was underestimated as such. The woman had an ample bustline and hips, hidden under clothes that allowed her to pass as a portly human child. Kemora Quickfeet wore leather armor under her cloak, and carried weapons by which to carry out her wicked assault. Her effective blades stayed sheathed in favor of a different strategy.
As Wendall unwittingly walked past her position, Kemora parted from the shadows. At her belt hung a gag designed to lessen the threat from the spellcaster. The halfling’s first attack would be with the unusual weapon in her right hand. Halflings designed bolos as a means to deal with the larger races. Most often it entangled the legs, tripping the larger creature and bringing it down to the level of a halfling blade. A skillful thrower could send the spinning bolo at an opponent’s neck. Bolos could knock a target out, distract it into trying to untangle the wire from around its neck, or strangle the opponent if it could be tightened further.
Kemora couldn’t determine the height of his neck, but she had a good idea of where to aim for the legs. The halfling woman started to send the bolo spinning. Wendall’s ‘human’ head perked up at hearing the strange noise of something whooshing through the air. Kemora spun the bolo fast, launching it at a horizontal angle on the fourth spin.
From behind the badly boarded window, Montanya stared in brief shock as events unfolded. The young woman couldn’t believe she was actually witnessing an assault. Montanya knew about bolo weapons from her martial arts master though she had never seen one used before. Her greenish-blue eyes witnessed the bolo tangle up the legs of the human mage and send him sprawling to the ground. The halfling rogue wasted no time in jumping on top of her quarry with the gag meant to silence him.
Montanya’s heart started beating in a panic. Tense energy overwhelmed her body, urging her to action. This was her moment to save someone from being a victim. She envisioned the rogue in the same light as the ones who had killed her parents.
Her window was on the second floor of the empty building. She ran over to the stairs and proceeded to run down at a fast rate. She nearly slipped at the last few steps but got her feet back under her. Inwardly, the youth cursed herself for her clumsiness. All of her strength and agility would finally be tested and she could ill afford a mistake. A hole through some rotted planks offered the one exit. The student of chiaso scrambled through the narrow opening even though it snagged at her rolled blanket. Once in the alley she hopped back to her feet and sprinted towards the scene of the attack.
Montanya became confused by what she saw. As she arrived, the halfling woman ran down the side alley from where she had initiated her attack. In place of the human mage she saw a gnome dressed in identical robes squirming around on the ground. The young woman noted the gnome’s gag, tied arms, and legs tangled in the bolo’s cords. The gnome saw Montanya and began pleading for help through the gag.
Montanya skidded to his side and untied the gag. “Don’t worry, I’m here to help you. I’m puzzled, I thought I saw a human attacked by that halfling.”
Once the gag dropped away, the exasperated gnome talked fast. “An illusion of mine. My mask makes the wearer appear human. Oh merciful gods, she took it as well as my money pouch.”
Montanya no longer heard the halfling’s footfalls. She looked to the alley by which the short woman had disappeared. She knew what her heart wanted. She could feel a smoldering anger within her towards the thief. Every second moved the robber further away from being caught.
Montanya leapt to her feet and took her first steps down the alley. Wendall’s voice rose in pitch. “Wait! Untie the rest of me!”
She barely looked back as she ran. “You’ll be fine! I have to be quick to catch that thief!”
The gnome sputtered several more pleas in a panicked whine, but the red-haired youth resolved to bring the rogue to justice. Running down the alley in her thin leather soles, she kept her breathing even in preparation for a long chase. She cast a critical eye at every corner and nook in the buildings. Uneven stone faces, support timbers, and clutters of refuse went by in the dark, and she had to glance into the shadowy recesses of each looking for hiding spots. The halfling probably had several escape options, but where did she disappear? There were numerous hiding spots and smaller alleys amidst the shadows of the tall buildings that night. Montanya tried to keep her ears keen to any other noise but it seemed as if her own breathing was the only thing to reach her ears.
Losing faith in her course, Montanya eventually emerged at a backstreet. Other people walked along the narrow avenue, past darkened doorways of shops and homes. A few carried lanterns or candles to illuminate the dark as they went about whatever late night business. The young woman paused a moment to catch her breath as her eyes darted about the shadows. Montanya began to feel hopeless about finding the slippery thief. She glanced at the other people within sight. Her senses fell upon a small figure shuffling through the street. It looked like a human child, walking alone, shadowed in a dark cloak.
Montanya casually followed the child as she examined the form more carefully. The short figure looked very suspicious. The height and the cloak matched the robber. Why would a young child be walking alone in these streets anyway? The black cloak hid some details, but Montanya began to feel confident it was the thief. They walked for some distance as Montanya’s human strides slowly gained ground. There were times the rogue may have glanced over her shoulder, but it was so subtle Montanya couldn’t be sure. Was it truly the rogue, and did she realize she was being followed? Without warning, the furtive character broke into a run. The thief used her small size to her advantage as she ducked through someone’s cluster of junk items, bolting into another alley. Montanya dropped all false pretenses and chased her. The agile human vaulted the assortment of discarded oddities in her pursuit of the short rogue.
Beyond the refuse pile Montanya encountered a narrow alley. A small trench carved through the ground, likely for carrying off rainwater or even human waste. Wooden slats covered portions of the dirt, offering places to walk which would keep a person’s feet elevated over the muck. Back doors offered discrete exits for the owners of the buildings, likely locked and wedged.
The flash of a blade signaled Kemora’s choice to strike at her pursuer. The halfling sliced at the human’s gut. Montanya’s chiaso reflexes took over; her torso contorted enough to avoid the first pass of the steel edge. Feet moved to regain a perfect balance as the momentum of the blade reversed.
The sword was the perfect size for a domid’s arm, even though short by human standards. The sharpened blade extended sixteen inches from the crosspiece. Some humans might have considered it as nothing more than a long dagger. Regardless of its size, the deadly weapon sought Montanya’s blood.
Kemora�
�s reverse swing swept at Montanya’s long legs, testing the agility of the chiaso student. Montanya sprang up slightly to one side, barely getting her late foot out of the path of the sword in time. Her leading foot found purchase on the base of a bricked window. The foot pushed her even further up and out of the halfling’s reach. Kemora ducked and stabbed upwards as the human leapt over her. The stab only attempted to get in a lucky strike, for the domid mostly tried to avoid any surprises dropping down on her. Montanya’s vault sent her over the halfling, with her original trailing foot using the far wall to bring her down easy. Montanya landed behind the rogue, trapping Kemora between her and the refuse-strewn mouth of the alley.
They paused for a moment, measuring each other. Kemora held her small sword before her threateningly. Montanya saw the gnome’s mask tucked into the halfling’s belt. Both women were similarly armored, each choosing hard leather coverings over their more vulnerable areas. The top bun of the halfling’s hair barely rose past Montanya’s beltline. Size made little difference to the domid, for there were ways to fight in which one could make use of their smaller size against a tall opponent. Humans weren’t a threat if one could take out the legs or get to the large artery in the back of the knee. Kemora actually looked upon her opponent as foolish. Kemora had her sword as well as a thin stiletto and other surprises, while her opponent stood weaponless.
Montanya tried to stay calm in the face of a rush of adrenaline and emotions. Chiaso studied fighting unarmed against opponents using swords and armor. This was the first time Montanya’s training would be put to a lethal test. She told herself to treat this with as little fear as when she had faced her fellow students on the training mat. If she gave in to fear, she would be vulnerable. Fear wasn’t the only emotion clouding her concentration. Kemora represented a focus for revenge against thieves. She saw in the rogue everything she had grown to hate in her life.
Kemora, feeling little reason to fear her unarmed opponent, went on the offensive. Her short arm pumped forward a couple times as she advanced a few small steps. Montanya backed away as the sword jabbed at her waist. The attacks tested her grace of movement. Kemora swayed back and forth in her steps a bit, gaining confidence. Montanya took the time to study her opponent, studying the turn of the hips and the tensing of the muscles.
When Kemora stepped in fast to deliver a serious cut, Montanya fell into one of her reflexively studied combat maneuvers. The youth actually stepped towards Kemora, cloth pantaloons billowing out, as she swept a foot into a kick. The halfling’s reach with her sword extended too far. Montanya’s leather shinguard connected with the wrist holding the sword. The domid cried out in pain, nearly losing her grasp on the weapon. If Montanya’s mind and body had been more in balance with the discipline of a true chiaso, she likely would have broken the wrist. Instead, mounting rage clouded her concentration even as it swept aside her fear.
Though Kemora retained her grip on the sword, Montanya finished the move with a strike of her own. A backhanded blow to the head, aimed a little too high, sent Kemora staggering. The domid’s brown hair partly fell loose from the neat bun.
Suddenly Montanya took the offensive, letting loose some of the pent up rage she had stored for so many years. The human lost proper respect for the sword Kemora carried, acting recklessly to continue the assault. The halfling recovered her shock from the first blows and used her agility to avoid a series of punches and spinning round kicks. There were probably many opportunities for Kemora to slip her sword past Montanya’s blurred yet wild movements, but the halfling became rather intimidated by this brazen human.
Kemora decided to make another escape rather than waste time fighting this interloper. She needed a distraction. An idea came from a cracked piece of pottery sitting in the muck. Her sword tip stabbed through the open space of the handle, gaining leverage by which to fling the impromptu missile. If Kemora aimed to hit Montanya with it, she would likely miss and waste the effort. Instead, Kemora’s sword flipped it at the stone building next to her opponent’s head.
Montanya ignored the flying jar since it flew wide, but when the pottery hit the stone building it shattered into several pieces. The human flinched and closed her eyes as a spray of broken clay rebounded off the wall into her face. She stumbled backwards defensively until she could refocus on the whereabouts of her quarry.
Kemora scrambled back into the open street through the pile of refuse. Montanya began to continue her pursuit. The chiaso stopped short when her opponent pulled another trick from her repertoire. The domid grabbed a lantern from one of the street shops, thrusting a vial of some sort into it, next to the candle. Montanya was about to leap the garbage pile when Kemora spun and threw the lantern into the pile. The impact shattered the vial of oil placed next to the candle. A bright spray of flames caught the edge of the debris, causing Montanya to lurch to a sudden stop. The halfling rogue disappeared from view as the oil gave a quick source of fuel to the flames and smoke.
* * * * *
The flames caused Montanya to pause. Her eyes searched the alley in frustration as she felt the rush of heat. The initial fuel of the flames started to die down somewhat, although likely the wood in the pile was going to catch and cause a bigger fire. Montanya, last survivor of the murdered Westonhout family, held too much anger within her to fear the flames for long. The rogue had mugged a mage, pulled a blade on her, and then started a fire that might consume someone’s home. There was no way the rogue would escape if Montanya had any strength left to fight.
The chiaso tried to fall into a quick meditation, calming her senses and telling her spirit that the fire wouldn’t burn. She tried to draw from her chi, then she was off and running. The woman vaulted the flames, panic still hitting her as she felt a flash of intense heat. Montanya hit solid ground on the far side, falling into a roll to smother any flames that might have caught her cloth. She coughed out a bit of foul air as she rose back to her feet. She felt singed, as if she had been out in the sun for awhile, but neither her clothes nor her red hair were on fire.
Montanya scowled as she looked up and down the street. She saw no immediate sign of the small bandit. The chiaso ran to a nearby intersection, figuring the thief sprinted down another street. She quickly turned to look down every exit. There was a relatively good view down all four directions, though the darkness still offered many places to hide from sight. She saw no small figures, despite a few people walking the streets. Even now, some were noticing the fire and starting to call out alarms. Montanya’s attention diverted to one couple whose eyes were towards the sky instead of the street or the flames.
The male was talking to his female companion, “I wonder what that was about.”
The female giggled, “I didn’t know anyone could climb those things so fast.”
Montanya turned to follow their gazes. A portion of Orlaun’s great aqueduct system loomed overhead. Since the long years of the Godswars, Orlaun had been able to repair and sustain an existing aqueduct that had suffered damage during the dark years following the Covenant. One of those sections that supplied endless fresh water to the city crossed above the street, supported by an arch. As soon as she looked at it, Montanya noticed this section had iron rungs set into the stone for access to the top. Many of the sections of the waterway were covered over, yet accessible to city officials or the local praetorians. A series of walkways, often called “birdwalks”, ran along the upper edges of the aqueducts.
Montanya started hauling herself hand over hand up the set of rungs. The soft leather soles made the bars uncomfortable on her feet, but she endured it. Montanya reached the walkway at the top and pulled herself up next to the covered basin housing the running water. She could hear the flow rushing along the length of the system. At a few spots along the side of the system were spigots. Montanya had never been on the aqueduct to see them, but she knew they offered access for the purpose of fighting fires. Looking down, she realized her perch was at least thirty feet up, possibly even forty. Since the people
of Orlaun valued the water pressure from the aqueduct system, most buildings weren’t built higher than where Montanya perched. There were many exceptions from nobles wanting to build to impressive heights. For the chiaso, her view was high enough for discomfort. Just thinking of what would happen if one was to lose their footing and slip over the edge brought on a wave of light-headedness.
Casting aside her fears, she looked down the length of the birdwalk to see if her hunch was right. She spotted the halfling just a short way down the length of the aqueduct, hurrying along. Montanya had trained hard to keep good balance. She got to her feet on the birdwalk and broke into a run. Her angry mood would have matched her red hair; she was out to claim blood. Kemora looked back as she heard noise. The halfling’s jaw dropped as her amazed eyes spotted the resilient human continuing the chase. Soft leather whisked across the masonry as the chiaso moved. Kemora started running as well. Agility and speed benefited both women, but Kemora could not outpace Montanya’s long legs.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 16
