by Stephen Wolf
Gabrion heaved a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. But let’s not kill people if we can avoid it.”
Kitalla pouted in overdramatic fashion. “Then how am I supposed to have any fun? Really, warrior, I’m not an assassin. I kill if I have to, but only if. Are we resolved for now, then? Get some supplies, then head to the north?”
The next few hours passed quietly enough. Gabrion and Dariak first took a much-needed nap while Kitalla searched the cellar for food and supplies. Some of the things they needed were there, but not in the best condition. She tucked two knives into her boots and wrapped a length of rope about her waist. Because Bostian had been such a robust fighter, he didn’t have many items of finesse in his secret room. Kitalla found a bottle of wine and sipped some while the two men slept, taking care not to imbibe too much and leave herself befuddled. All the while, she kept her ears trained for sounds through the ceiling, in case the king’s guards found their trail.
But she had chosen their destination carefully. Bostian’s house was maintained by an old acquaintance of the troupe for this very purpose. Kitalla didn’t know the details of their relationship, but the older woman was more than happy to visit this place once or twice a week, light lanterns, and sweep the stoop just to make it look occupied. She also took care of paying the king’s taxes from a coffer that Bostian replenished for the purpose.
Thinking of the coffer, Kitalla rummaged around the cellar, tapping walls and tugging on stones until one came loose. There was dirt and grime in there but also an iron box. Removing the strongbox, Kitalla opened the lid and was shocked to see so many pieces of gold surrounded by gems and jewelry. She intended to take funds for Gabrion, so he could put his conscience at ease, figuring a fellow of his nature would need time to adjust to a more free-flowing lifestyle. Keeping him calm and in line would make the upcoming task more smooth, which would help. But then she saw that there was also a stack of parchments, neatly folded and bound with a thin cord. She untied the string and opened the first one.
Dearest Bos,
I hope this note finds you safe. I regret we must communicate in this manner, but you’re right; I can’t be caught up in your line of work anymore.
Sairre
Sairre, thanks. You’ll always be my favorite. The rubies are for you, so enjoy them. Bos
Kitalla looked in the box and saw that there were no rubies. Sairre must have accepted them. She thumbed through a few of the other letters, and though they were personal, it didn’t seem like a romantic relationship between the two. She thought of Bostian’s death in the forest and decided she had to let Sairre know. She took a rod of coal and a spare piece of parchment and scraped out a message.
Sairre, I’m a friend of Bostian’s. You should know there was an accident and he died. I’m terribly sorry. Thank you for keeping this safe house for him. But you should take what remains here and live your life free now. ~K
She folded the parchment and placed it on top of the contents of the box, then covered it and slid it back to its resting place, taking none of the funds from inside.
“Time yet?” Dariak asked over her shoulder, startling her. “It must be nighttime by now.”
She appreciated that he hadn’t asked what she was doing. “Yes, let’s move.”
The three of them left the underground room, with Kitalla leading them stealthily. She peered out the front door of the house and noticed that torches lit various places along the street. “Not good,” she murmured. “They have scouts in place watching for us.”
“Not surprising,” Gabrion said. “What’s the plan?”
“Same. Just more careful.”
“One moment,” Dariak interrupted before they left. He fumbled through his pockets and pulled out three small, broken pieces of glass. He gave one piece to each of them. “Slice your finger just a little bit on the edge of it, and then hold it in your palm.” He demonstrated what he meant, and then he placed his left hand over his right and chanted the words, “Guaradair zuli haramanniav.” A light glowed briefly from his hand, and when he opened his palm, the glass was gone.
Gabrion hesitated. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
Kitalla took his piece of glass and scratched him with it. “You don’t have a choice.”
Dariak repeated the incantation before the warrior could protest, and then he set Kitalla’s protective shield as well.
“Strange,” Gabrion said moments later. “I almost feel like my whole body is wrapped in ice.”
“You can feel that?” Dariak asked. “Good. When you are hit, those parts will go back to normal, so you’ll know the shield’s gone. Okay, now let’s get moving.”
“Handy,” Kitalla said appraisingly, then poked her head out the door again. Glancing around, she could see that a few of the torches were moving. Apparently, some guards were in set locations, but others were patrolling. She didn’t bother informing her companions, though. They all knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
Waiting until it looked the clearest, Kitalla dashed across the cobblestones and into a dark alley across the way, keeping her body bent low. She paused only long enough for the others to reach her, then she continued. Their first stop was the mystic’s store so Dariak could replenish some of his wares. Kitalla looked around, then pointed upward.
Gabrion looked and realized that she meant for them to cross on the roofs, which didn’t seem like a good idea to him. His skepticism was clear, even in the darkness, but she urged him forward. He took two crates and stacked them, holding them steady so the others could climb up. Kitalla went first, springing from the second crate to the rooftop and pulling herself up easily. Dariak needed assistance from them both, and then Gabrion joined them. They crouched low as they scuttled across the roof beams, taking care not to step on any of the thatch, which would probably drop them painfully to the ground below.
The mystic’s shop wasn’t too far away, and when they reached it, Kitalla pulled up a few patches of roof and looked inside. It was a perfectly quiet store within. She turned around, bent low, and grabbed the beam before swinging her legs down and dropping safely to the floor. Dariak cringed at the motion but mimicked it relatively well, though he tumbled over upon landing. Gabrion remained on the roof as a lookout.
Having spent a few hours there before, Dariak knew where most of the merchandise was located. He pocketed some herb packs and gemstones first, then took a handful of incense sticks, which he wrapped in a sheet of parchment to lock in their scent. He poked and prodded through various other objects, taking only the best materials. He felt silly for doing so, but he fumbled through the books too and swiped a few of the smaller volumes that would fit in his larger pockets.
Kitalla wandered around, glancing out the storefront windows but also eyeing the merchandise. She found a number of interesting items and she secreted them away in her leathers where she could. Kitalla chose the items with care, ensuring she could barter easily with them in the future. On the far wall, tucked casually away from others of its kind, was a silver necklace, strewn with fragments of gemstones. There was nothing special or expensive about the style and it wouldn’t fetch any reasonable price, yet she felt a compulsion to take it.
A sharp whistle sounded overhead, and Kitalla and Dariak dropped to the ground. A torch passed by the window moments later, and another went by soon after. They waited for a few moments, but it seemed like the guards had passed, until Gabrion came crashing through the ceiling.
“Archers!” he announced, pulling himself up from the ground and tugging on his sword. “One of them got me in the arm, but it glanced off because of that shield. But now they know we’re in here.”
“We’re done anyway,” Dariak decided, pulling out a dagger and preparing to defend himself.
“Got any spells rea—?” Kitalla started, but was interrupted as a soldier kicked in the front door. Gabrion charged forward and batted the man away, clearing a path for the other
two. They sprinted out quickly and dashed across the street to dive into another alleyway. It didn’t work as well as before, however, for shouts echoed down the street that the villains had been found. Gabrion scrambled to join the others. They made so much noise in their flight it was easy for the guards to follow them.
“Keep making noise!” Kitalla insisted, though Gabrion called ahead for them to be quiet. “Come on!” She grabbed a metal pole that was on the ground and banged it against a stone wall on her left. Not understanding why they would want more noise but willing to play along, Dariak grabbed a canister of debris and threw it high into the air and over Gabrion’s head. It hit the ground with a resounding crash.
“Are you mad?” Gabrion hissed.
But Kitalla just smiled as she cupped her hands to her ear, signaling him to listen. Dogs were howling and barking at the ruckus they were making, alerting their owners, some of whom could be heard trying to quiet the dogs. Kitalla kicked a wooden box and shattered a piece of glass along her way, having a bit of fun with it. Gabrion and Dariak added to the cacophony, still somewhat doubtful about this plan.
Breaking through the alley, Kitalla cut a sharp turn to the left, smacking into a sentry. She recovered quickly and pounced on him, crashing him to the ground and banging his head on the stones to knock him unconscious before he could alert the others. Some of the frightened dogs started wailing like wolves, while others thrashed around their pens, desperate to get to the noises outside.
Jumping to her feet, Kitalla ran ahead, Dariak and Gabrion in tow. She broke into a house and ran right through it, out the back door and into the night, turning right and sprinting onward. If they didn’t know any better, the others would have thought she was trying to lose them. They pounded their way through the living room, ignoring the cries of the children they had disturbed, and followed as closely as they could.
Kitalla’s zigzagging didn’t stop with the one house but continued across both sides of the street, until people and pets were yelling from all directions. Dariak admired the tactic as he went. If all the houses were calling for guards, those soldiers would find themselves rather busy.
At one turn, Kitalla dove inside a doorway but didn’t run through at all. Instead, she pulled a full stop to catch her breath as Dariak and Gabrion joined her. “Quickly,” she huffed, pointing around. It was one of the Kaison armor shops. They each scoured the dark room quickly, throwing on whatever would fit. Dariak hesitated before taking a leather jerkin; it would interfere with access to his robe, but he figured he could just ditch the jerkin later if he couldn’t make use of it. Gabrion grabbed an outfit of chain mail, minus the helm, and swiped the only buckler that wasn’t locked to the wall with a chain. Kitalla added a set of leathers to the ones she was already wearing and then called the men to follow.
Out the front door they went, and three stores away, she dove inside the weaponsmith’s shop. Dariak and Kitalla each pocketed a collection of daggers while Gabrion debated between a mace and a sword. Time was tight, though, so he kept to the weapon he knew best, taking a steel long sword with its companion scabbard. It was longer than the short swords he was used to, but it better suited his height. Kitalla stashed a whip on her belt rope, and they were off again.
This time they were spotted, and the alarm echoed through the ever-darkening night, punctuated by the occasional flight of arrows. Dariak had no idea how he was going to keep up with the stamina of these two, but he kept repeating to himself that if he stopped, he would die. It was enough to keep him moving for a while.
She didn’t know how widespread the sentries were posted, but Kitalla assumed that the northeastern quadrant would have the largest concentration, since the three of them had run toward that area after the failed execution. Thus she veered through the streets, heading southwest as much as possible. Owl hoots sounded through the air, but all three knew it was the castle guard trying to send word out that the fugitives were on the run.
Kitalla charged headlong into a sentry who wasn’t even looking in her direction. His torch fell to the ground, and she hefted it over her head. “Come on!” she urged the other two, running off. Holding the torch confused the other sentries as she reached them. They never would have figured the criminals would want to be seen. It was a crafty ruse, and it allowed Kitalla to best a few groups of sentries along the way. Gabrion kicked out at the guards, trying to keep them down so they couldn’t follow, while Dariak focused his thoughts on just keeping his feet moving.
They made great progress through Kaison, with Kitalla at the head of the charge, torch blazing overhead, adding her own calls of alarm to the chaos. “Eastern quarter!” she bellowed to one group, who immediately headed off in that direction. Adding a panicked frenzy to one cry, she called, “To the king! They attack our king!” This led the sentries right into Gabrion’s awaiting fists.
She ran ahead, prepared to barrel into the next group, but then something happened that she didn’t expect. Her body crashed into an invisible wall of force, knocking the wind out of her. Dariak’s eyes widened, and he dug within himself, for he needed to come through for them now.
They were just outside the sanctuary, where the healers had gathered together, pooling their resources to face this trio of traitors. They had erected a wall of stillness by stopping the air from moving around and preventing movement through it. It was often used to keep a room quiet for recovery or to deaden the screams during particularly painful healings. Combined and overlapped in full force like this, it was a veritable wall.
But Dariak could take it down.
Skidding to his knees, he scooped up a fistful of dirt from between the cobbles and tossed it at the wall. The pieces struck as if against stone, but Dariak then grabbed the torch and swung it like a sword. “Hazkhra bezhou!” The speckles of dirt exploded in tiny bombs of force, powered by the torch, which instantly went out. The wall shattered against his shoulder, and he turned to face the healers, who were already swinging their arms around for another spell.
Gabrion couldn’t help, for several soldiers had come around the bend. He pulled the long sword from its scabbard and swung it a few times through the air. It felt awkward, but he was ready. The buckler on his left arm was secure, and he crouched in a lunge, anticipating the first attack.
Dariak and the healers had their arms and legs flailing about, arcane words tumbling from their mouths. Most of Dariak’s experience was with the power of the earth and some minor conjurations of fire. He repeatedly dug his fingers into the ground to pull forth the dirt as a component for his counterspells. The healers called to the humidity in the air, and a swirling cloud of mist rushed forth toward Dariak. He thought to dodge it at first, but he recognized part of their spell—“casilar slumbreth nei”—which intoned a call to sleep. He couldn’t afford to be stunned during this battle, so he threw both hands out before him and scattered the dirt into the mist. Because the torch was gone, he couldn’t explode the pieces to scatter the cloud, but he did something else instead.
“Jalicorith grienan!” he called, overlapping his wrists and curling his hands in the required directions. It was the same spell he had used back in the forest to turn the mud and water into a mild lubricant so he could free his hand from the mage glove. Then, the spell was weak, because he couldn’t put force into his call and because one of his hands had been bound behind him. Now, the dirt clung to the mist and turned into a heavy sort of jelly, which promptly dropped from the sky and spattered to the ground. It was still potent and laced with the sleep spell, so he needed to keep his nose up and away from it until it dissipated.
Kitalla had recovered enough to enter a battle stance with Gabrion. The two of them faced off against three sentries, soon to be five, with the threat of more on the way. At least the arrows had stopped with the start of a melee bout; it wouldn’t do for the archers to take down their own fighters accidentally. Kitalla dipped below one sword thrust and cut a dagger deep
into the man’s thigh. He toppled to the ground in agony. The next sentry sprang forward with an overhead hack, but she rolled out of the way in time, kicking up with her foot and sending him to the ground. Angrily, he rolled back up, his armor clanking, and he charged. Kitalla jumped high and pressed her hands on his shoulders as she sprang over him, then kicked her feet into his back to send him barreling forward into one of his comrades.
Gabrion swung his blade around and disarmed a younger soldier, who pulled back to let someone else step in. The warrior yelled aloud as he spun and slashed his sword, crashing it into one sentry’s pauldron. It didn’t stop the seasoned fighter at all, and Gabrion desperately raised his left arm to block with his buckler. He realized quickly that he needed a larger shield, for a second fighter came along and entered the fray. Gabrion swung his sword wildly, trying to parry two simultaneous sets of attacks. His mentor, Andron, had offered such training but not against foes of this caliber. He panicked and cried out again in defiance. He would not let them stop him from his quest.
Neither would Kitalla, apparently, for she threw a dagger with high precision. It struck one of the fighters in the neck, killing him instantly. She then glanced over her shoulder and assessed that Dariak was holding his own well enough for the moment. She pulled another dagger out and bounced and weaved as she pummeled into another sentry. From the looks of it, though, the alarm was directing the king’s guard to their area, for more torches appeared in the distance and headed for them.
Gabrion saw this too, and he doubled his efforts, taking one of the short swords in his left hand and doing a wild pinwheel with both arms as he faced off against the next attacker. Seeing the imposing figure approach, the soldier lost his nerve and bolted away. Instead of following, Gabrion lashed his left arm out to another sentry and then followed it with a swing of his right arm. He then reversed these movements to take down a sentry who was intent on Kitalla.
