Gloomwalker

by Alex Lang

  “No, there isn’t time,” Kyris said.

  “There’s no time to take our belongings?” Tasi asked.

  My books, Jahna lamented, but she didn’t say anything. Things must have gone terribly wrong for Kyris to be so overwrought.

  The three left their rooms and rushed down the stairs, Kyris holding her hand and guiding her by the waist. They passed through the common room, where, from the sound of it, some patrons were still eating and drinking, and emerged into the cool night air. Kyris led them down the street at a pace just shy of a run. Jahna tried to deduce the direction. They had made two turns after leaving the building, so… north, she thought.

  “Kyris, is there anything I can do to, um, dress your injury?” Tasi asked.

  “No. I don’t think so. It’s not bleeding.”

  “Kyris, what happened? Tell me,” Jahna implored.

  “It was a trick. I was ambushed by a fleshmender. Caldir's in on it. He’s an Imperium agent.”

  “What did the fleshmender do?” Tasi asked.

  “Best I don’t show you,” he replied. “That’s not all. They saw. They witnessed me using the Gloom.”

  None spoke as the implication sank in. Were inquisitors of the Path scouring the city for them even now?

  “Where will we go?” Tasi asked.

  “North, towards the nearest gate out of the Old City. We’ll head for an outer district, maybe find a place to hide, just until sunrise. Then we’ll leave the city.”

  Her brother was rattled and in pain, and that spoke volumes for the danger they were in, but still, leaving was what she had hoped for all these months. Perhaps whatever happened was exactly what was needed to jar Kyris from his path, for him to see what was really at stake.

  “Wouldn’t it be safer if we stayed in the Old City? Won’t the gate guards keep them out?” Tasi asked.

  “No, we can’t count on that. Caldir works for the Imperium, so he’ll come with the guards as escorts, more like. Hurry, we have to put some distance from here.”

  “You think they’re in there?” Adar asked.

  Ellse frowned.

  “The black hounds.”

  Her frown deepened. “I don’t think they lug the wagon around just for show.” They certainly weren’t riding in it. The group of huntsmen walked alongside the enclosed wagon, which made trailing them a rather simple task. “You’ve never seen one of those foul things?”

  “No.”

  “Count yourself among Shar’s blessed.”

  “Still…”

  She shook her head. Sometimes she forgot that Adar, the youngest and newest of their group, had never left the city. He was a warren rat born and raised, whose mother ran afoul of a keeper and was never seen or heard from again.

  “How very strange,” Ellse muttered to herself.

  One of the huntsmen and the boy seemed to be leading the way.It seemed the pace set was not to the scarred-faced man's liking, for he drove the young boy forward with a kick, then barked at the other man—who was clearly reluctant—to pick up and carry the child.

  “Well, that big fellow is just asking for a good stabbing,” Adar offered, hand on the hilt of his blade. “Who do you think they’re after?”

  “Kyris,” Ellse replied immediately, surprising herself, but it couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Kyris? Why, what happened back there? He really wasn't upstairs? Did he run?” Adar pelted her with questions.

  Ellse answered all of them at once. “I'm not sure.”

  “Oh, come on, Ellse,” Adar whined. “What aren’t you telling me? I saw Sandamar clutching his side, and the blood. That was no small cut. I knew Kyris could fight, he proved that well enough, but to do that to Sandy? I’m sure the big man was more than a bit vexed. I know I would be. So, things got a bit out of hand, eh?”

  Ellse barely heard Adar’s non-stop prattle. She was used to it, and more than a little lost in thought over what had occurred in that room.

  When they’d emerged from the hidden compartment, Sandamar had Kyris pinned against the wall. Kyris was screaming in pain and the fleshmender was ignoring Caldir’s commands to stop, so she charged in, leaping up to hook Sandamar by the neck and, using her momentum, pull him to the ground. Ellse looked at Sandamar’s blood on her hands. She hadn’t known he was injured. There was only the one spy-hole, so she hadn’t seen Kyris stab him. The severity of the wound was surprising, and more so that the fleshmender could survive such a thing. She supposed, despite knowing Sandamar for many years, he hadn’t ever been stabbed in the torso in all that time.

  She had untangled herself from Sandamar just in time to witness Kyris disappear. He was there one moment, cradling his hand and glaring at Caldir, then he’d blurred for an instant, as though she was looking at him through old glass. Then he was gone.

  That was when she’d felt the wrongness, as Sandamar called it. Ellse didn’t have any problem putting words to the sensation. It was the moment before the jaws of the Great Wolf closed around her neck. It was terror, plain and simple. She shuddered even now, recalling it. Thankfully, it passed, or else she might have lost control in spite of the restraint. Caldir was too preoccupied dealing with the sensation himself to have noticed.

  Ellse hadn’t liked the plan. Deceiving someone was never a good start, though Caldir was convinced that forgiveness would be granted once all was explained and revealed. Kyris’ expression before he disappeared suggested otherwise. If they caught up with him, she really hoped he would listen and could be swayed. He knew too much now to be let loose. She didn’t want to have to kill him.

  Ellse realized that Adar had been staring at her, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He gave her an exasperated look.

  “Enough, we’re working. Focus. I’ll tell you what happened later… once I figure it out myself.”

  Adar gave her a sidelong glance, the desire to press further plain, but he remained silent.

  Up ahead the group of huntsmen moved onto the Oak Bridge, leading into the Old City.

  Ellse hesitated, not wanting to be exposed, but there was no other option. She chalked the stone of the corner parapet, tossed her weapon over the side onto the bank of the river, then started across the bridge. She glanced back to see Adar eying his blade with reluctance, but he did the same before running to catch up. With any good fortune, the weapons would still be there for them to reclaim.

  They paused halfway across the long bridge. Her eyes were sharp, and she could make out the huntsmen having a heated conversation with the gate guardsmen. Four of them handed over their weapons and headed into the tunnel to Old City, along with the child. The fifth member of their group pulled the wagon to the side, remaining behind. It seemed the guardsmen didn’t want any black hounds in the Old City, leashed or not.

  “Quickly,” she said, rushing to trail another group approaching the gate. She and Adar crowded in close with what appeared to be carousers returning from a night of drinking. The east-bank taverns were popular among the Old City denizens looking for rowdier entertainment than their home districts provided.

  They passed the wagon. The huntsman left behind, an old man, was busy lighting his pipe and didn’t even bother looking up.

  The gate guardsmen checked them for weapons, then waved them all through. Ellse gave thanks to Shar for the small blessing, as it was always an uncertain affair crossing the gates at night. Once in the tunnel and a good distance from the guardsmen, she and Adar ran ahead.

  Emerging in Old City, she caught sight of the huntsmen rounding a corner. She chalked the wall, then hurried to follow, traveling up the hill a bit before turning north. They caught up with the huntsmen in front of an inn. There were tables and chairs set about outside the establishment, meant for patrons, but they were all empty now. The group deliberated a moment before three entered—the big scarred man and two others, leaving one outside with the child.

  Now would be a good time to get some answers from the lone hunts
man, she thought. She glanced back the way they had come, wondering how far behind Caldir and the others were. Before she could decide, the three huntsmen stormed back out, and it was obvious the big one, evidently their leader, was not pleased.

  He shouted at his men, then grabbed the child by the neck and shook him. The boy, meek and withdrawn, retreated further within himself like a snail but pointed down one of the streets. The large man released the child, and the group moved off again, continuing northward.

  This baffled Ellse, but there would be time for contemplation later, she reasoned. She and Adar continued to shadow the group as they moved on from the inn. The night crawled on in this fashion, and when the huntsmen neared the northern portion of Casrinndar’s Wall, they turned, heading east.

  “Where are they going?” Adar asked, his patience worn thin. “Are we going to traipse around the city all night?”

  “I don’t know how, but I think they’re tracking Kyris, and it has something to do with the boy. I think the inn must have been where Kyris was staying, but he’s not there. He’s moved on. This time of night, all the northern gates are closed. We’re heading east, down the hill. Unless they double back, the only way to continue east is through Tower’s Gate. Go. Tell Caldir this,” Ellse said.

  Adar nodded and raced off the way they’d come.

  “They were heading north, towards the walls,” Adar swallowed, catching his breath. “But since—”

  “The northern gates are closed to regular traffic at this hour, and assuming they aren’t heading up the bluff, then the only way is east,” Caldir reasoned. “The Tower’s Gate, then. And she believes they are tracking Kyris?”

  Adar nodded. “Ellse thinks it has something to do with the child.”

  Caldir furrowed his brow in thought. “Why?”

  Adar explained what they’d seen, and the strange behavior of the huntsmen.

  Caldir nodded to himself, coming to a decision. “I hope you are prepared for more running, Adar.”

  The young man smiled in response. “Fastest runner in the five warrens.”

  “Good. How many tals do you have on you?”

  Adar handed a small pouch to Caldir without hesitation.

  Caldir withdrew a pouch of his own and emptied the contents of both into his hand, a mix of coins and paper. “This ought to be just enough.” He stuffed everything back into one pouch and tossed it to Adar, who caught it and hefted it in his hand as though admiring the weight.

  “Go to the Black Crane and give that to Kraun for use of his smuggler’s tunnel. It is the most direct route and will save you time from having to use either of the nearest gates. Once you are on the other side, find Jolso. Have him gather as many of his lads as he can, and get to the Tower’s Gate as fast as possible. No, wait. On second thought, have them wait on the east bank of the Tower’s Bridge, out of sight of the gate house. Best not to attract unwanted attention. Tell Jolso that I am calling in a favor. Have you got that?”

  “Aye, clear as a mender’s ass.”

  “Then, go!”

  Caldir gathered the rest of his men and continued down the trail left by Ellse. He was committed, and if Kyris reversed course or decided to go south and exit through another gate, then he had just sent his reinforcements to the wrong place. But he had to take the chance; it might be the only one he’d get.

  The child was an interesting development. Leashers were renowned trackers or rather, their makors were, but it seemed they’d found a hound of a different sort, if Ellse’s instincts proved correct.

  Caldir glanced at the men with him. Tallence, Rollim, Mosa, and Izab. All hardened fighters. With Ellse, the four huntsmen shouldn’t prove a problem. If they had their black hounds, it would be a different story, but Caldir had come upon the makor wagon near the Oak Gate. The old huntsman left to tend it had not been in the warehouse, and thus had not seen them. The menacing growls coming from the wagon had suggested the animals were not as unaware.

  Another chalk mark had then turning west. Caldir quickened his pace. This night was shaping up to be most interesting, and he was eager for the outcome.

  Kyris led Jahna and Tasi down the near empty streets of the Old City, traveling east towards the river Ryles. The glow of the false sun glared at their backs from on high, harsh in its brilliance, casting large stretched shadows upon the paved stones.

  The northern gate Kyris had hoped to use was closed. Locked for the night, a guardsman had not too kindly informed him when his banging had woken the man from the barracks within the wall.

  He was drenched in sweat, more from the pain of his hand than the exertion of their flight. His sisters were quite winded, as well. They couldn’t keep this pace up all night. A distant memory of him and Jahna racing through the forest as children drifted into his mind. She was the better runner then, but she hadn’t done much running since that day.

  He regretted his choice of lodging within the Old City. The walls he’d thought so impressive now felt confining, a cage that he had to escape before it was too late.

  His new plan was to get on the other side of the Ryles, then head south, maybe as far as the Downs. It was a long trek, but if he could steal a boat, the currents would ease that burden as he’d done only a few nights before.

  Kyris had had some dealings in the Downs before signing up with Marlek. It was a sprawling, chaotic, lawless warren, home to the most impoverished of Vigil, but this also meant that the city watch was seldom seen there. It was said that even the light from Allithor’s Sun didn’t shine as brightly in the Downs, though Kyris was sure that had more to do with the obstruction from buildings and walls than any divine disfavor. Then again, maybe not.

  From the Downs, they would have options as to how they’d leave the city tomorrow, whether by the many roads or by a proper ship traveling farther south.

  A gate passage through Casrinndar’s Wall came within sight, set near the bottom of a tall stone tower. Kyris remembered drifting past the tower when he was on the river. As they descended the street, he happened to glance back, noticing a group of four rounding the corner. Something about their mannerisms and haste triggered a warning in him.

  “Let’s hurry, we’re almost to the gate. Just a little more,” he said as he quickened the pace.

  Tasi noted his concern and glanced back, too, her face blanching.

  They entered the tunnel. No guardsmen were present on the Old City side, but two were posted at the bridge entrance.

  He spat out what was left of the urdor leaves. He linked arms with Jahna and walked past the gatekeepers without breaking stride, but one of them called out, “Halt, there.”

  Kyris turned to face the man with an inquisitive look. “Yes, guardsman?”

  “Where are you lot off to?” The man scrutinized each of them.

  Kyris had been fortunate to pass into the Old City earlier without trouble. He had tossed his empty sheaths and harness but now, drenched in sweat, forearm wrapped and tucked inside his coat, his appearance must have been questionable.

  The guardsman looked back and forth between Kyris’ arm and Jahna’s veil, as if he couldn’t decide which was more suspicious. Veils were not uncommon among the highborn, but the rest of her attire didn’t support that narrative.

  “We are just heading home,” Kyris said with as much deference as he could muster. “Our employer had us working late.”

  “Is that right? And where might that be, your place of employment?”

  “The Wellspring Inn,” Kyris replied, naming the inn where they had stayed.

  “And what’s wrong with your arm?”

  “Had a bit of an accident in the kitchen. Scalded my hand with broth.”

  Doubt settled across the man’s face. “Is that so?”

  Kyris was certain the guardsman would ask to see the injury. Even in his current state, he thought he could handle these two, but he knew there were more garrisoned within the wall.

  “And what of you two?” the guardsman asked, turning to the
girls.

  “Scullery maids at the same inn,” Kyris jumped to answer. “I’m escorting them home.”

  “Don’t they speak?”

  “Of course,” Jahna said at the same time that Tasi meekly replied, “Yes, sir.”

  “And you, what’s with the veil?”

  “Good guardsman,” Jahna said, drawing out the word with a mixture of disdain and impatience, “is it your duty to inconvenience those seeking to leave the Old City? I can understand such diligence in securing the safeties of those esteemed citizens within, but the same vigor is not required here.” Jahna’s haughty demeanor gave the man pause.

  Kyris could see the guardsman’s mind working as he eyed Jahna up and down, trying to process the incongruousness of her plain woven dress and with what he’d heard. He obviously didn’t appreciate being spoken to in such a manner, but it wasn’t unheard of for highborn to travel incognito, and if the woman in front of him was such, he could easily find himself working the quarries if offense was taken.

  “Kottsen, enough.” The other gatekeeper, who had been leaning against the wall and watching, spoke up. “Let them through, already. Shouldn’t punish them because you’re bored.”

  Kottsen shot his fellow guardsman a dark glare, then deciding that they weren’t worth the trouble, gave a dismissive wave. “Go on.”

  “Thank you,” Kyris said, giving a half bow.

  Once they were on the bridge and out of earshot, Tasi exclaimed, “That was fabulous, Jahna.”

  “Yes, well done,” Kyris added.

  “What a Vos-suckling-canker-cock-shit-eater,” Tasi cursed.

  Kyris coughed, astounded that his younger sister even knew such language, let alone would say it. “Yes, well, we’re through and that’s all that matters.” He glanced back at the gatekeepers who were now speaking with the group of men. Getting a closer look at them, seeing their armor and red insignia, he was all the more certain they were not just regular citizens of the Old City out for a night stroll, and what lingering doubt he had was completely eliminated when he made eye contact with one of the men. There was a hungry, eager expression on his face, and he looked at Kyris with something akin to recognition.