He flew down the stairway, right hand trailing on the wall to steady himself, though not enough to stop him almost falling several times. The risk was secondary. They must not lose the Messenger.
He was nearing the bottom when his attention was caught. He flung himself to a halt and backtracked. There it was. His fingers had snagged it as he had passed: the edge of a door not closed flush. As if someone had not quite had time to shut it securely. A secret door, formed from the smooth stone blocks of the wall and positioned precisely where the light from the spaced lamps did not exactly meet. He pushed it, and silent hinges let it swing smoothly away from him. An unlit torch sat in a sconce and a narrow stairway led straight down to his right, disappearing in the space of a few scant feet into darkness. He listened, but could hear nothing. But this must be his trail. ‘In the wall!’ he yelled back up the stairs to his companions.
He grabbed at the closing door and took the torch, jamming it lengthways between the jamb and the edge of the door. His friends could not fail to see it.
He took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness. He kept both hands on the walls, the stone not as caringly dressed as in the public areas of the temple but welcome to the touch nonetheless, and forced his feet to keep moving. He waited with every step for the blade that could come in the opposite direction and tried to concentrate his thoughts on his feet and away from the peril.
But it seemed that the Messenger knew not that Brann was alone and chose speed over the chance to rid himself of his closest pursuer. The stairs led down in a straight line, no turns, no switches – they had started well below the level of the dome and must follow the line of the flat outside wall.
His senses detected a change and instinct slowed him just enough to hit the unseen wall in front of him only mildly hard. He felt around, ignoring the pain in his knee that had been the first to impact, and the wall to his left moved at his touch. He pushed and it opened: another door. Moonlight seemed as bright as day after the pitch-black of the passage.
He breathed deeply again, and dived low through the opening, turning in a crouch with knife in hand, facing back towards the doorway. No one awaited. His back was against something hard and big, and he glanced up to see the dark bulk of a broad statue, more than big enough and close enough to the wall to hide from eyes outside any use of the unorthodox doorway.
He cast to each side and saw a shadow move to his left. He was closer than he had thought, and set his legs to pumping once more, sheathing his knife once more. It would not do to fall upon his own blade.
There was scuffling and grunting behind as his companions burst from the doorway with less caution than he had employed. ‘Here!’ was all his bursting lungs could manage, but the noises behind and the turn from the dark figure ahead was evidence enough that it had been audible.
They appeared to be running along the roof of some sort of portico projecting from the side of the temple at the height of a single storey. As Brann strained his eyes for what little information he could gather, the Messenger – for he had to hope it was he – disappeared. He had not strayed to the temple wall, so it could only be that he had come to the end of the roof. With luck, he had fallen in the darkness and broken enough bones to end his running.
He slowed, unwilling to suffer the fate he wished upon his quarry, peering for the lip of the roof and finding it against the varied shades of dark beyond. The man was running down the street towards the front of the temple at not quite a full sprint. Either he had hurt himself in his flight or his destination was far enough away to make him want to conserve some energy. Brann suspected the latter. He had no such need – the sooner he caught him, the better – so he could afford to devote all his strength to a shorter chase.
He lowered himself to the extent of his arms and let his fingertips free themselves from the roof, jarring his whole body as he slightly misjudged the length of the drop. Ignoring the discomfort, he pounded after him. He had no time to warn the others; he would have to trust they were paying attention.
The Messenger reached the square and turned away from the temple, heading down a street to the side. As Brann reached the corner, he saw Marlo standing anxiously, having seen the running figure but clearly unsure if it was a person of importance or a worshipper fleeing the uproar that could be heard from inside and the alarm in the shouts of those already tumbling from the great front door.
‘Marlo!’ he shouted. ‘This way!’
The boy immediately started after him and, as he set off, Brann saw Cannick follow. Marlo caught Brann before he had gone another dozen paces.
‘You always were quick,’ Brann panted.
‘You always were slow,’ Marlo grinned. He nodded ahead. ‘The Messenger.’
‘Yes.’
‘The Masters?’
‘Dead. Most, if not all.’
‘Our friends?’
‘Following. Not far.’
‘All good then.’
‘As long as we get this bastard.’
Marlo peered ahead. ‘We are gaining.’
‘We need to catch, not just gain.’
‘Then we should run faster.’
Brann pushed himself on, and Marlo matched him. The man ahead glanced back, seeing them close. He redoubled his efforts towards a corner, the road turning right and left as it met a low building ahead.
‘Quick,’ gasped Brann. ‘Run ahead of me if you can. We need to see if he turns again, and where, after the corner.’
But the man did not turn. He attacked the wall, scrambling up cracked masonry as if it were a ladder.
‘Gods, he’s like a squirrel,’ Brann gasped.
‘What do we do?’
Brann looked at him. ‘All we can do. Follow.’
They reached the wall and scrambled up with greater effort and less speed than the Messenger. They reached a flat roof and saw the man already leaping to the next building. Scrabbling behind made them turn, only to see Sophaya slipping onto the rooftop almost as nimbly as the Messenger had done. Grakk was close behind, with Konall and Gerens in close attendance. ‘A long reach has its advantages,’ the noble said drily.
Hakon’s voice drifted up from below. ‘I’m not sure I can make it.’
Grakk narrowed his eyes after the running figure. ‘Make for the docks,’ he called down.
‘I don’t know the way.’
Mongoose’s voice drifted up. ‘Follow me, daft boy. Whenever the road slopes, we go downwards.’
The group on the roof were already moving, finding the gap that the Messenger had leapt to the next roof to be short and easily crossed. The next building was long and flat, and the bright moon and lack of building-thrown shadows let them keep their prey in sight. They started to gain.
‘As long as we can see him, we should catch him and before the docks at this rate,’ Brann puffed.
The next few seconds proved the error of his judgement. The building that directly abutted this one, was a full storey higher, with a wall at the top making it even higher. A chimney breast was one of the few objects that broke out from the smooth surface and the only one that reached all the way to the top, but it was all that the man needed. He leapt in three bounds: first, right onto a rain barrel, then left to a gargoyle with an open mouth to eject water from indoors, and finally right again to grasp the chimney. He scampered up the protrusion as though it were horizontal rather than vertical and flipped in a somersault over the top of the wall. With only the merest of backward glances as he reached the higher level, he was off.
They reached the obstacle and Sophaya was onto and up the chimney in a few short breaths, leaving the others panting at its base. Brann looked at it dubiously, then glanced at the others and saw matching expressions. ‘Go,’ he said to Sophaya’s waiting face. ‘Only you can follow him on this route. Keep him in sight until we catch up.’ He didn’t dare look at what he knew would be Gerens’s disapproving glower.
She didn’t waste time on a reply and disappeared. By the time they had ma
naged to haul themselves up, both had left their sight.
Grakk nodded ahead. ‘Keep going that way. The docks are not too far ahead.’
It was a frustrating run. They reached the edge of this stretch of buildings, glimpsing the solid darkness of water at the edge of their vision and lowered themselves to the street, running faster on the more familiar surface. As they broke cover onto the dockside, Sophaya dropped noiselessly to land beside them, startling all but Gerens who merely looked relieved.
‘This way,’ she said softly, leading them at a swift lope onto one of the curving piers. Ships of all sizes and styles bumped hulls, some in darkness and silence, others lit and with the muffled sound of chatter, laughter and music emanating from within.
At the end of the pier two identical vessels sat, the same insignia on each: one starting to push off and with oars being made ready, while the other was in advanced preparation to follow suit.
‘The Messenger,’ Sophaya said. ‘He is on the first.’
Brann looked at it in despair as the gap from pier to hull widened with every thumping heartbeat. His eyes jumped to the matching colours flown from the second ship. ‘We have to gamble,’ he said. ‘Or we lose all.’
To his surprise, no questions or comments came his way. The others nodded in acceptance and made ready to move, but at a thought, Brann caught Sophaya by the arm. ‘The others know nothing of this. You need to let them know. You are the only one among us capable of finding them.’
‘I won’t make it back in time,’ she said.
Grakk’s voice was urgent. ‘We won’t make it aboard in time if we linger any longer.’
‘I know,’ Brann said to both. He looked at the girl. ‘Tell the others to head for the house in Sagia where Einarr stays. It is the only place in that direction,’ he jerked a thumb out to sea, ‘that we all know.’
She looked crestfallen, but accepted the truth of the situation, reaching into her tunic and placing two pouches of coins in Brann’s hand. She placed a quick kiss on Gerens’s cheek, ignoring the anguish in his eyes at the unavoidable situation, and wordlessly ran with her effortless grace back towards the city.
The second ship was being cast off, and the four ran and jumped, startling a sailor as they thumped past him and thundered onto the deck. Within seconds, they were surrounded by sharp steel and suspicious faces. A well-dressed man with the bearing of the ship’s master stepped between the sailors.
‘What have we here? Stowaways? Thieving raiders?’
Brann looked up. ‘If we are, we are not overly skilled at the stowing part,’ he looked around at the assembled weaponry pointing its sharp ends towards them, ‘or the raiding part. We seek passage.’
The captain laughed. ‘I believe you do, and urgently so.’
He believed them fleeing the city. It was as good a reason as any.
‘You would ask no questions?’
‘Not if you have the fare.’
Brann held up one purse, bulging and heavy. ‘Where can you take us.’
The captain grinned. ‘For that, anywhere you like as long as it is where I am going, if you see what I mean.’ He nodded at his cargo hold. ‘Even though you have in your hand more than enough for hitching a ride, I have been paid many times more for delivering this cargo, so where it goes, you go.’
‘And if we don’t want to go there?’
‘You are welcome to swim to your chosen destination.’
Brann shrugged. ‘Not a hard choice.’
‘And where do you go?’
The captain pulled himself up in pride. ‘The Sea Stallion and our sister ship ahead, we are owned by a very important trading corporation, but one strangely shrouded in mystery as to its management, which makes it all the more impressive, don’t you think? We sail in tandem to the south coast of the Sea of Life.’
Brann smiled. ‘That will do us nicely.’
Chapter 7
‘It is time for you to assume a role.’
He saw it in her eyes, but only because he had come to know her so well, had studied her as he had done over the many long years with each one of the select few who had held his trust. Her expression never changed, but he saw it in her eyes: excitement, and a little pride. That pleased him, for the drive to succeed and impress was a strong motivator to achieve results. And results were all that mattered.
‘I am honoured, lord.’ She bowed her head, conscious that her eyes might betray her emotion. He was pleased again. She was learning, and few, if any would have noticed the sign.
‘You are satisfied, more like. You have wanted this for some time.’
She looked up, her young face startled, flushed. He fought to hide his own smile. It was good to know that he still had it in him to provoke a reaction.
She quickly controlled the stammer that started her words. ‘I mean no offence and harbour no disloyal ambition. I merely seek to serve you to the utmost of my ability, and ever more than before.’
‘Calm yourself, girl. I want no one working for me who is comfortable with previous achievements, but only those who look to better them. You have shown this.’
Her composure had returned. ‘I have tried, lord, and I have learnt, but I was not certain I was ready.’
‘Nor should you be,’ he snapped. ‘That assessment is mine alone to make.’ He looked at her for a long moment, stretching the silence. Her face remained impassive. Even now, she learnt. ‘And as I told you, it is time.’
‘You know your thoughts are my guide, lord. I shall serve.’
‘You shall. I had one who served closest of all; one who performed the tasks only he and I were aware of. He died.’
‘I heard.’
‘You are now that person.’
She drew herself up, her height accentuated by her slender build. ‘And you have a task for me.’ A statement, not a question. ‘You would not tell me this news for my own pride.’
He let the impudence pass. The thought process was more important. ‘The pieces are moving in this game. We are moving towards a conclusion, but we are not there yet and we know not what form it will take, but we must be ready.’
She nodded, her attention rapt.
‘You are aware of those who serve our cause from further afield, I know. There is a chance they may find their way to this city and, should that come to pass, we must be ready. There are those within this city whose services may be necessary, even vital. The three, of who only two are ever seen. You know of whom I speak?’ He paused and raised his eyebrows and she nodded her understanding. ‘We have an understanding, I and they, based on mutual benefit from time to time, but I cannot be seen to be in contact with them, and they themselves shun contact with all but few enough to be counted on one of your young hands. Nonetheless, I need you to meet with them. I need the pieces we are able to move, to be in place. I need you to tell them that I wish them to be prepared to offer their assistance. Can you do that?’
Her voice was strong. ‘I will do that.’
‘I know you will. I would not have put you in this position were it otherwise.’ He looked at her coolly. ‘I may not be as pretty as the last you served, and I may not take you to buy fine dresses, but I will keep you more busy.’
‘I would not have it any other way, lord.’
‘I know that also. Return tomorrow morning to change my bedsheets, and I will give you names and instructions.’ He indicated the door.
She nodded and turned.
Before she lifted the latch, he stopped her. ‘And Persione—’
She turned immediately, her balance perfect and her stance able to take her in any direction; a person distant from the gawky ungainly servant he had first met. The training with the Bringers of Darkness had been absorbed with enthusiasm, he had heard, and her movement was a direct consequence.
‘Lord?’
‘I am trusting that personal feelings will not cloud any of your decisions in the coming months.’
‘My feelings are concerned only with earning your appr
oval, lord.’
This time, he did smile.
‘I know.’
****
Brann learnt quickly that being accustomed to sea travel did not equate to being accustomed to all sea travel. His voyages before had followed the coast and, even when land was out of sight, there was always the comforting knowledge that it sat just beyond the horizon. Even the journey from Cardallon to Halveka had taken no more than a few days, so they had never been more than a day and a bit from the land either behind or before.
But the Sea of Life was more than a week of sailing from north to south and, when looking across the blue expanse, Brann found the knowledge that land was so far was disquieting. The vista, overwhelmingly empty but for the speck ahead that was the sister ship, made him feel that they sat unmoving in the centre of a great vastness, as if nothing he had ever known or seen still existed. Many was the time when he would shake his head to try to rid himself of the crushing sensation of insignificance, only for it to return the instant his eyes caught the view once more. And it was the only view there was.
The winds were fair, however, and the sailors had told them a couple of days after leaving port that the journey would be a quick one: a week at most if conditions stayed the same. They proved a friendly lot, despite appearing to have been drawn from the less scrupulous elements of several societies, but then an easy voyage tended to make sailors cheerful. The captain, too, was congenial, but Brann suspected that in his case his good humour was more the result of the handsome price he had been handed for little more than providing a few extra rations. Brann knew that he had paid well over the going rate for such a journey, but it suited him for the captain to believe that they were fleeing the consequences of some nefarious activity in Durden rather than pursuing the man in the ship ahead. The captain might say that he knew nothing of those who owned his ship, but the fact that he had the slightest connection with those they sought and who sought them was enough to make Brann even more cautious than normal.
Hero Risen (Seeds of Destiny, Book 3) Page 28
