Quest's end bk-3

by Brian S. Pratt

  The River Man was practically running through the castle hallways, the magic user and the rest on his heels. As soon as one of his guards had notified him of finding the rope dangling from a window outside, he immediately rushed to the scene. “How did he get outside without your guards seeing him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know my lord,” the sub-captain replied. Bristling with anger at the apparent laxness of his men, he followed his lord.

  Just as the entrance came into view, flashes of miniature lightning suddenly burst from the purplish ball the magic user still had resting on his palm. “Aha!” he exclaimed.

  “You found him?” asked the River Man with a glance to the now active purplish ball.

  The magic user nodded. “I will in a moment,” he stated. Slowing his pace, he turned his attention more fully on the ball. The River Man and the sub-captain likewise slowed their pace to see what the magic user could discover.

  “He’s close,” he told his lord a moment later. Moving the hand that held the ball, he slowly waved it back and forth in front of him. When his hand finally came to a stop, he pointed in the direction his hand had stopped and said, “He’s that way.”

  It took only a split second for the sub-captain to exclaim, “The stables!”

  The River Man broke into a run as he raced for the exit followed closely by the sub-captain. The magic user continued at his slower pace, all the while keeping his attention focused on the ball and the information it was giving him. “He’s on the move,” he said before looking up and realizing he was alone in the corridor. His lord and the sub-captain had left him behind.

  Running to catch up, he found the outer courtyard to be in a frenzied state of activity. Men raced to and fro as they hunted for the intruder. He looked for his lord and found him already halfway to the stables. As the magic user moved to follow his lord, he kept his attention focused on the purplish ball.

  “My lord!” he hollered loud enough to cut through the din.

  The River Man paused and glanced back.

  “He’s no longer there,” the magic user stated.

  “Where is he?” demanded the River Man.

  Men in the area grew still and quiet as they waited for the answer.

  Again seeking the source of magic the ball was detecting, he finally came to realize it was coming from the guard tower. Pointing to it, he said, “There!” Then all of a sudden, he felt something strike his shoulder. Instinctively, he reached for the point of impact and was surprised to pull away a small dart. “What?” he asked in confusion. Then the world grew fuzzy as consciousness left him.

  From the top of the wall, Bart watched in satisfaction as the magic user dropped to the ground. The courtyard below erupted in bedlam as guards rushed the tower and began ascending the steps within. Others were shouting for the archers and guards atop the walls to converge in his direction. Though he was hidden by the magic of the Cloak, it would do him little good once the wall whereon he stood was inundated by guards.

  With little time left, he sought a place to attach the end of the rope so he could descend the outer side of the wall. Not finding any, his eyes fell upon the guard lying unconscious from a blow to the head Bart had given him when he first emerged from the tower. Inspiration came and he took the end of the rope and looped it under the man’ armpits. Tying it very tightly, he then threw the rest of the rope over the side of the wall.

  On the ground outside the wall, guards were racing in his direction. There wasn’t much time. He took the unconscious guard tied to the rope and moved him next to the inner edge of the wall. Bart then took a firm hold of the rope as he nudged the man over the side. The man dropped a foot then came to a halt when the rope grew taut.

  Bart kept the tension tight on the rope as he moved to the outer side of the wall. Then using the man as a counter-weight, he slipped over the side and began descending rapidly to the ground. Only using his hands to slow his descent, both were soon stinging from the friction.

  Ping!

  An arrow ricocheted off the wall next to him. Looking down, he saw that four guards, one of which was an archer, had already reached the wall directly below him. Not only that, but the hood of the Cloak had fallen back and he was no longer concealed. Coming quickly from the left and right, more guards were on the way. In no time at all they’d be below him.

  Then a shout drew his attention to the top of the wall. Guards were there looking down. He saw one draw his sword and knew what was about to happen. A quick glance to the ground told him he wasn’t likely to survive intact if the rope was cut. So moving quickly, he continued down the rope as the bowman pelted the wall around him with arrows.

  He managed to lower himself another fifteen feet before a vibration coursed through the rope. He knew the severing of it would be imminent. Glancing down at the men still twenty feet below, he didn’t like his chances.

  Bart quickly pulled the hood back over his head, aimed to land atop one of the soldiers below, then kicked off at an angle from the wall and let go of the rope. Using one hand to hold the hood in place and maintain his invisibility, he drew the knife found in the Ruins of Algoth with the other. No sooner had the knife been pulled free, than he crashed into the unsuspecting guard. The snapping of bones could be heard as the guard’s body took the brunt of the impact. Rolling off of him, Bart quickly got to his feet. The hood had once again fallen back.

  “Get him!” one guard yelled as he rushed forward. The archer put arrow to string and aimed directly for him as the second remaining guard joined the first.

  Bart dove to the side and grasped the hood of the Cloak just as an arrow passed through the space his body had just a moment ago occupied. Pulling the hood again over his head, he hit the ground and disappeared.

  “Where did he go?” yelled the archer. With another arrow knocked and ready, he scanned the area for any sign of where the intruder had gone. He and the two guards searched, but of the man who had come down the wall, there was no sign.

  Chapter Eighteen

  From the mouth of an alley, Bart watched the frantic activity of the guards as they searched for him. He couldn’t believe the fact that he made it out of the castle, let alone was still alive. Backing deeper into the alley, he turned and raced away.

  They could no longer remain in the city, he had to return to the inn and warn the others. For a brief second he thought about using the ring, but quickly decided against it. The magic user may have been able to overcome the affects of the poison on the dart. If so, then he didn’t want to do anything which may alert them to his whereabouts.

  Upon reaching the end of the alley, he paused in the shadows as a squad of six guards hurried past. The torch held by one of the guards briefly illuminated him as they passed, but none took notice. Once they were past, he left the alley and raced across to the mouth of another on the opposite side of the street. Disappearing into its dark interior, he began making his way back to the inn.

  It took him some time before the inn came into view. The streets were swarming with guards and he was forced repeatedly to either hide or take an alternate path to avoid being seen. When at last the inn came into view, he took a moment to scan the area. It seemed quiet, at least quieter than the rest of the city.

  Practically every building had at least one person gazing from a window. Though they had been told to remain indoors with their doors locked because a killer was loose, curiosity got the better of some. When he first heard a guard tell a citizen that a mad dog killer was on the loose, he couldn’t help but grin. Mad dog killer indeed!

  The inn was ablaze with lights. Most every window was lit, except for two along the second floor. Those had been two of the rooms belonging to him and the others. The fact that they were dark worried him.

  A patrol was quick timing it down the street toward where he was gazing from an alley. Bart ducked back in and remained in the shadows until they passed. After they had gone by and the echoes of their footsteps began to diminish, he moved again to the mouth
of the alley. Looking out, he saw the coast was clear and started across.

  He took but a single step before a voice in the alley behind him said, “They’re not there.”

  Drawing his knife, he spun around and made ready to defend himself.

  A small form came forward, and in the shadows of the alley, Bart saw that it was a small boy. “Runt?” he asked questioningly.

  The shadow nodded. “They fled the city,” he replied. “Killed a bunch of guards and townsfolk during their escape.”

  Bart’s eyes darted here and there in an attempt to tell if Runt was alone. Not seeing anyone, he relaxed a little though the knife remained in his hand. “Where did they go?” he asked.

  “How would I know?” replied Runt. He came forward another two steps then stopped. His features were somewhat recognizable now. “That was some trick.”

  “Trick?” asked Bart, unsure just what he was talking about.

  “You disappearing,” he clarified. “Never seen anyone do that before.”

  Bart gazed at the lad in uncertainty. “You said they fled,” he said, ignoring the comment about him disappearing. “Do you know which way they fled?”

  “Oh yes,” replied Runt. “It was quite spectacular.”

  “Spectacular?” asked Bart. He didn’t like the sound of that.

  Runt nodded. “Explosions. Lights. There was even a gust of wind that knocked townsfolk every which way.” He then paused a moment before saying, “Best show I ever saw.”

  “Which way did they flee?” he demanded.

  Runt paused a moment as he gazed at Bart.

  “Well?” asked Bart. He didn’t have time simply to stand around talking. He had to get out of here and fast.

  “How did you disappear?” Runt finally asked.

  “That’s not important right now,” Bart said. “Just tell me which way they fled.”

  “If you tell me how you disappeared,” Runt said, “I’ll tell you where they went.”

  That was a secret he wasn’t about to reveal to anyone, let alone a street kid. Information of that sort tended to make the rounds and he didn’t want the fact he had the Cloak to become common knowledge. Instead, he pulled forth a coin and held it up. “I’ll give you this if you tell me,” he offered.

  Runt looked at the coin being offered and could see it was silver. “I’d rather know about the disappearing,” he said.

  A moment later, a second coin joined the first.

  “This way!” he heard someone yell from the street. Taking a step back toward the mouth of the alley, Bart glanced down the street and saw a dozen guards running his way. In front of the men was a boy some years older than Runt. It took Bart less than an instant to recognize the boy as being one of the two Runt had called his brothers.

  “Why you little…,” he began saying to Runt when all of a sudden, Runt leaped forward and wrapped himself around one of Bart’s legs. The two coins in his hand went flying.

  “Assassin!” the boy yelled as Bart kicked and tried to dislodge the little bugger.

  “Runt!” Hearing the cry of his little brother, the lad with the guards broke into an all out run toward the alley. A knife glinted in his hand.

  Unable to dislodge the boy, Bart was about to strike out with the butt of his knife when another lad emerged from out of the darkened alley. Leaping off of a broken crate lying nearby, Runt’s other brother flew through the air. His body slammed into Bart’s shoulder and hands grabbed the arm holding he knife.

  The unexpectedness of the attack caused Bart to lose his balance. Stumbling backward, he hit the ground with a thud. Immediately, he and the older brother began fighting for control of Bart’s knife. While they struggled, Bart kicked at Runt with his free leg.

  “Assassin!” Runt screamed again just as Bart’s foot struck him forcefully in the side. Though he grunted from the impact, he didn’t let go.

  Bart’s fist repeatedly hammered into the older brother in an attempt to break his grip. Again and again he pummeled the boy mercilessly in the head. When he felt the older boy’s grip relax slightly, he wriggled the captive hand free and struck with the knife.

  Aaaaaahhhh!

  The boy cried out in pain as the knife sank into his side. With the fight now out of the older brother, Bart struck Runt in the head with the butt of the knife. The first blow did little but elicit a cry of pain. The second one knocked him unconscious. Quickly extricating himself from the now limp body, Bart scrambled to his feet.

  “Runt! Parel!” cried the remaining brother as he entered the alley. He saw his two brothers lying amidst the debris littering the alley with Bart standing over them. One was writhing in pain as blood flowed from a wound in his side, and poor little Runt lay unconscious beside him. On his heels, guards boiled into the alley. Bart turned and fled, moving deeper into the alley.

  “Kill him!” he heard the brother scream to the guards entering the alley. Fleeing for his life, Bart dodged trash and debris as he ran. Behind him, the guards were hot on his tail.

  He had almost reached the end of the alley when more guards appeared before him and blocked his escape. Not willing to give up without a fight, Bart barreled forward. Before the guards even realized he was close, he leaped. At the same time, he pulled the hood of the Cloak over his head just before colliding with the lead guard.

  Bart held onto the hood tightly as he and the guards fell in a heap. Once they hit the ground, Bart began to roll. Rolling into the legs of another guard, he had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out as he was knocked to the ground.

  “Where did he go?” one of the pursuing guards hollered as they began emerging from the alley.

  Hidden by the magic of the Cloak, Bart quickly extricated himself from the pile of bodies and came to his feet. Guards held torches aloft as they scanned the area.

  “Curse that assassin!” another guard exclaimed.

  “He couldn’t have gone far,” an older guard stated.

  As the guard started organizing the rest of them into search parties, Bart quickly left the scene. Once he turned onto a side street and the guards were no longer in sight, he pulled back the hood and became visible once again.

  He cursed himself for a fool. He should have known better than to think that anyone here, even someone as innocent seeming as Runt, could be trusted. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make twice.

  At least he’d learned that Riyan and the others had fled. But where would they have gone? That question would have to remain unanswered until he was out of the city. Moving through the darkened streets and alleys, he avoided contact with locals and guards alike.

  He knew the gates would be closed and closely watched. The earlier reconnoitering he did upon first arriving was of little use now. He had acquired only a good idea of the immediate vicinity around the inn. Now he was paying for his shortsightedness.

  All around him the city was awash with lights and moving bodies as they hunted for him. He was fairly confident in his ability to thwart the searchers. It was the magic user from the castle that he was most worried about. Ducking into yet another alley, he waited while six guardsmen hurried down the street.

  As the guards were passing by, a noise came from deeper within the alley behind him. One of the guards glanced into the darkened recesses of the alley. Bart pressed himself against the side of an adjacent building, sure that he was found. But the guard failed to see him and soon continued past.

  Turning his attention to the darkness of the alley’s interior, he saw movement. The shadow moved forward toward the end of the alley where he was standing. Bart remained motionless except for his hand which moved to clutch his knife. Eyes locked onto the shadow, he braced himself for whatever may come. Then the shadow entered an area that was more illuminated and he saw it to be a drunken beggar.

  Relaxing somewhat, he moved along the side of the wall toward the mouth of the alley until he could see down the street in both directions. When he saw it was clear of searchers, he moved out. Behind him, the beg
gar noticed his movement and mumbled something. Whatever he had said was lost as Bart quickly moved away down the street.

  Keeping close to the buildings bordering the street, he stayed in the shadows as best he could. Still not using the protective magic of the Cloak, he instead relied on his time tested skills to keep from being seen. Moving from shadow to shadow, blending in so as to be almost invisible, he worked his way ever closer to the wall surrounding the city. He had to get over before daylight. The time of the thief was during the hours of darkness.

  When they first arrived, he had noticed that buildings were built against the inner side of the defensive wall that surrounded the city. Most cities allowed such since the protective wall was designed to keep invaders out, not in. Perhaps one would be tall enough and enable him to reach the top without too much trouble. Those most likely to be allowed to be built the tallest would be along the wall near the river and lake where an attack was less likely.

  Praying that he was correct, Bart turned toward the river and quickly made his way through the streets.

  “I’m fine,” the magic user said. Next to him were two empty potion bottles. One had held a potion to counter poison, and the other had been a common healing elixir. The use of both had restored much of his vigor and strength.

  “He’s loose in the city,” the River Man stated. Inside he was fuming at the escape of the assassin. His men had had him trapped on the wall, but instead of a dead corpse, they allowed him to escape and now he was who knows where? Lending a hand to the mage, he helped him to his feet. “Find him,” he ordered the magic user.

  Nodding, the magic user began scanning the ground in the immediate area. “Where’s the dart that struck me?” he asked. A moment later he saw it lying on the ground. Bending over, he retrieved it. “With this I can find him.” Holding it up, he gave his lord a grin.

  “Let’s hope so,” replied the River Man.

  With the dart placed upon his palm, the magic user spoke several arcane words. When the spell was completed, a silver glow enveloped the dart. Rotating, the point of the dart moved a quarter turn before coming to a stop. Pointing in the direction the dart indicated, the magic user said, “He’s that way.”