The sign across the road caught his eye, “Park Avenue…I’m close to the marketplace!” He was excited, remembering how quickly it had been for them to get to the palace from Corbin’s temporary housing at the wood mill.
Logan moved quickly through the night streets, ducking behind trash bins or into alleyways whenever a carriage approached. He had a good lead on Fafnir and his men, thanks to one of Mr. Beauford’s ingenious upgrades to his hand. The wood mill sat quietly before him, everyone gone home for the night after a long workday. Looking up and down the street, he could see no sign of the city watch and bolted up the outside stairwell, practically running through the shabby apartment door in his frantic flight. Once inside he spied his backpack, thanking his fortune again. He and Corbin had been sure to pack all their supplies for the trip back to Riverbell before they left for the gala, since they were planning on setting out first thing in the morning.
Grabbing the pack, he rummaged through the contents for a change of clothing, slipping out of the tattered garments he had ruined in the shockwave. He was just tightening his belt when hurried sounds of boots came from the stairwell. “Bastards already found me!” He worried, quickly looking around the room for an escape route. The only way out was a window and they were on the second floor, but it would have to do. He quickly tugged at the pane when someone began banging on the door demanding he come out peacefully. The damn thing did not want to move, Logan cursed himself realizing the catch was still in place. He could hear the men in the hallway planning to ram the door down just as he slid the frame up, slipping out like a fox, to hang on the windowsill. When the door burst open he let go, landing on the awning below and sliding to the ground. He hit the pavement running, leaving the angry guards behind to toss his room thinking he was hiding somewhere inside.
Logan was another four blocks away, running for his life back toward the city gates, when his conscious began nagging in the back of his head. All he wanted was to get out of the city and get himself back home to Riverbell, wishing he had never even set eyes on the infernal place. But Beauford’s words would not cease repeating in his head, haunting him with their plea. Logan growled aloud to himself, turning from the southern road and heading back west toward the Grey Crow. He had to fulfill the gnome’s dying wish and retrieve his damnable pendant He did not know why he should care one way or the other but something deep in his core insisted it must be done.
“Ah… it’ll just be a quick detour before I get out of this place….” He told himself. It was a thought Logan would have to keep reminding himself, as he made his way swiftly as possible, without raising any suspicion, through the night streets. He was relieved finally in view of the Grey Crow up ahead, sitting just as empty as the wood mill had been.
“And why shouldn’t it?” he thought, wondering who he expected to be working there with the sole proprietor dead. Even the brothel next door stood quiet. He could hear the women inside talking and laughing over clinking plates, but none were on the balcony or out in front of the building where they could see him approach. Logan ducked into the alleyway between the two structures, moving as far toward the end of the building as he could. Unfortunately, the only window on this side of the store was close to the front, in plain view if any of the women should happen to look outside. Knowing he had no other choice, Logan lightly pushed upward, sliding the rickety pane along the rotting frame, thankful it was unlocked. Though it was old and weathered, he managed to get the thing up high enough to slip inside. “Hmmm…and Elder Morgana always said I should do something more useful than sneaking around to steal pies…” he thought, using those practiced skills now to break into the building.
Even with all of the lights blown out, he could see the place had recently been ransacked. Tables were flipped over, jars broken on the floor, some of the lanterns overhead were lying on their sides. The shelves had been fiercely searched, leaving all manner of wares and books scattered across the floor. He felt his blood freeze when someone coughed from the backroom, where a dim light glowed. Working on pure instinct, Logan slid into a shadowy corner of the storefront, crouching behind one of the shelves and peering between the stacks to try to get a glimpse of his fellow intruders.
“What’s that? Did ye find anything?” A man asked, sounding like a high-pitched rat.
“Nah the kitchen’s empty too…blasted gnome. Where in the devil do you s’pose he stashed it?” His companion replied in a deeper voice, Logan backed up even further instinctively realizing they were city watchmen, and they were already here searching for Beauford’s pendant!
“The Magistrate ain’t gonna like this none.” The rat voice added. He heard the man throw something hard to the floor in frustration.
“Yer right about that, we better have Joel tell him.” The deep voice offered.
“Hehe, pickin’ on the new guy, huh? Yeah, it’ll be a good initiation for ‘em.” The other agreed.
“Sure, if the magistrate doesn’t have him killed for deliverin’ the bad news, you mean?” the deep voice laughed.
They were still laughing over their new comrade’s upcoming punishment when the pair walked out of the backroom. One of the men was wiry looking with a long crooked nose, wearing a bowl haircut, while the other was broad-shouldered, with large muscular arms despite his oversized belly. They both wore city watch uniforms and the heavier man carried a small lantern. The skinny rat looking man nudged his companion picking something up off the floor. “The missus is going to like this, pally.” Strangely enough, the guard that looked like a rat spoke in the deeper voice and the heavy man replied in a squeaky high-pitched voice.
“Nothing better than a sip of rum to get ‘em in the mood, eh?” They laughed again, pilfering a couple more bottles and heading out of the building, leaving the door to bounce on its hinges a couple times before it settled down and the overhead bell stopped clanking.
Once they were safely out of sight Logan let out a long, drawn out breath of air, realizing he had been holding it in anticipation of being caught. Wasting no time, he scrambled into the backroom, crouching past the outside windows, to avoid being spotted. Clambering around in the dark, he rummaged through the rows of shelving, searching for some clue to the gnome’s cryptic hiding place. All he saw were more bottles of the liquor that had been served back at the gala and the same artifacts he had grilled Beauford about only a short day ago. In the backroom, the tables were, for the most part, cleared off onto the floor and the small kitchen area was littered with broken plates and discarded flatware.
Heading back into the storage area, he set down his pack to find a flint and lit one of the candle stubs lying on the floor. With the waxy nub in hand he could see better and ran back over the contents of the room, hoping he had missed some essential clue.
“Damn it Beauford…where the hell did you stash this thing?” he grumbled aloud to a nearby painting of the gnome. Beauford seemed to be looking down directly at him, as if trying to tell him something.
“Hmmm.” He mumbled, moving in closer. The painting was hanging crooked so he assumed the watchmen had searched the wall behind it. However, it was not what was behind the painting that caught his attention, as much as what was in it. Beauford sat in a red leather armchair, smoking a pipe, in some sort of library. Slowly moving the candle light across the picture Logan searched it until his hand stopped, the light hovering right above an object that must have been what triggered his subconscious curiosity. Beside the chair was a small table with a tea set atop it, the very same tea set Beauford had used the day before!
Logan darted for the tight kitchen area, his heel sliding across the floor on a piece of broken ceramic and thudded into one of the counters. He worked excitedly to flip open the small cupboards one by one until he found the teapot. Setting it on the countertop, he removed the lid revealing… nothing. Logan’s brows furrowed, how could the pendant not be inside? Then again, why had he thought it was inside there anyhow? He was about to head back into the s
torage room having disproved his theory when another thought occurred to him. Lifting the teapot in front of his face Logan noticed how the base of it was taller than your average kitchen urn. “It’s not inside it… it’s part of it!” he realized, dropping the thing to the floor to break it open. Lowering his candle, he noticed a glint in the dark, revealing a small piece of jewelry inside the base of the teapot. Triumphantly, he snatched the little teardrop shaped pendant on its white silver chain and moved back into the other room.
The storefront entrance dinged as the little bell above rattled. Logan’s heart skipped a beat and he blew out the candle tossing it away from him as if it were a snake.
“Not like we didn’t just scour the damned place top to bottom!” the rat yelled outside, from the front of the store, at the soldiers who they had just been arguing with.
“No use getting riled up Billy, let’s just get it done.” The deeper voiced man said, sounding tired and defeated.
“It’s not our fault they let that Walker kid escape.” The rat named Billy replied. Logan ducked behind the nearest bookshelf, stunned to hear his name uttered by the man. “Besides, how could they think the kid would have already made it this far into the city?”
His companion just grunted, moving past the bookshelf to light up the tiny kitchen. “Well he ain’t in the pantry…,” the wiry, deep voiced guard announced. Logan tensed up, they were going to scour the place looking for him!
Rat absently kicked a statuette across the floor giving the area a cursory glance and grunting. “Check that side of the room.” He squeaked while opening a window to look out into the alleyway. Logan’s heart was beating so hard he irrationally worried they would hear it, working to steady his nerves as the skinny watchman moved toward the shelving, slowly scanning the area with his lantern.
“What a joke…first he’s got us searchin’ for a journal that doesn’t exist…next it’s some country wahoo.” The oversized man complained, beckoning his partner to follow out toward the storefront.
As the guard moved away from where Logan was crouched low to the ground, he loosened up his grip, recognizing he was so tense that he had been digging the nails of his right hand into his palm.
“Wait.” The deep voiced man stated, turning his lantern toward the middle of the room.
“Oh, what now? Let’s just get out of here.” The larger man whined, circling his head around in annoyance. Logan could barely make out what they were doing from behind the stacks of books lining the shelving in disarray. He craned his neck to see what the smaller man was pointing at in the middle of the room. When he saw his backpack, Logan’s heart stood still and goose bumps crawled across his skin, silently cursing his stupidity leaving the thing lying out in the open.
Scanning the area, he saw that the men were no longer by the doorway, each taking a different side of the room with their weapons drawn. He knew this time he would not be so lucky to escape unnoticed. The lantern was moving on the opposite end of the room where a stack of crates rested, while the heavier man worked his way straight toward the shelving he was hiding behind. Logan snatched a small brass statuette of a snail and flicked it sideways out the open window, rattling across the ground out in the alleyway.
The heavier watchman stopped short just in front of the shelving, motioning for his partner to check out the noise. As the lantern moved toward the window, the large guard turned to face his hiding spot once more. Logan roared, shoving his shoulder hard against the tall bookcase, which toppled right over on top of his seeker, slamming the man hard into the ground underneath an avalanche of dusty tomes and trinkets. No sooner did the bookcase hit the floor, than he was bolting for the exit, leaving his pack behind. The skinny guard dropped his lantern to the floor running to help lift the heavy shelving off his companion. As Logan was about to pass the doorway, a heavy fist caught him hard in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. He barely ducked out of the path of another roundhouse, this one coming with a five inch barbed steel blade.
He had not even heard the other watchman searching the storefront but was quick to adapt. As the fierce black-bearded man stalked in grinning at him, Logan held up his hands in surrender backing up toward the middle of the room.
“Okay you got me I’ll come along willingly…” he calmly gave in.
The watchman scoffed at him, wagging his pointer finger above the hilt of the dagger. “Tut tut…too late for that then, briar lapin, boss wants you dead.”
The man’s mocking smirk turned serious as he lunged forward, swinging the knife. Logan stepped back, kicking a smaller crate straight up into the air; right into the path of his attacker’s blade, which smashed through the wood like it was paper. Blinded by the maneuver, the guard never even had time to block as Logan broke his jaw with a staggering kick to the face, the momentum throwing him into a nearby pile of books.
Massive arms wrapped around him from behind, lifting Logan toward the ceiling and squeezing the air out of his lungs. The large squeaky voiced man had already made it out of the rubble, with a slash across his forehead that seemed to have turned him into a berserker.
“Thought ye could get away from us, did ye?!” He screamed in his high pitch, while his wiry little friend stalked in with a sword.
“Hold ‘em still Ralph, I want to get this over with nice and neat.” The little rat promised, pulling his arm back to run their captive through the belly.
As the man jabbed with his blade, Logan twisted hard toward the sky, raising his legs above his body to keep away from the sharp edge. Ralph howled as the sword ran clean through his midsection sticking out through the back of his ribs. With the watchman’s grip loosened, Logan tumbled to the floor, sweeping his leg low and dropping his stunned partner who was still holding the hilt of his sword, smacking his pointy face against the floorboards. He kicked the man hard, twice in the head, knocking him unconscious, before the heavyset guard caught him in the ear with a deafening blow. Logan reeled from the pain as the crazed bastard threw a volley of fists at his gut. He thought the man must have demon blood to be even moving after being run through with a sword, which was still stuck in him like a pincushion.
Finally, Logan ducked to the side, dodging one of the man’s heavy blows, which cracked into the wall instead. He howled in pain, over his broken knuckles giving Logan enough time to land a sure aimed fist straight into the brute’s nose, breaking it under the weight of his metallic hand and followed it with a heavy roundhouse kick to the side of the head, throwing the berserker into a pile of stacked crates in the corner.
The room roared with the ear ringing blast of a fired pistol, as a bullet whizzed past his head, coming so close it sliced some of his hair clean off. Logan jumped into a tucking roll across the room to get out of the downed bearded watchman’s line of sight. The man looked angry indeed to have missed his target, especially after said quarry had broken his jaw. Rather than wait while the man reloaded his single shot pistol, Logan made a mad dash forward kicking the weapon out of his hand, and battered the soldier with blows until he was positively knocked out.
Scanning the room to be sure none of the men were stirring, Logan grabbed his pack from the floor, flipping it over his shoulders and clipping the harness in place around his chest. While he was fixing his laser rifle into the holster around his back, he could hear the sound of stomping boots coming toward the front of the building. There would be no exiting that way for him. Hopping out the back alley window, he turned to slide it shut just as he heard the store entrance burst open with a group of watchmen storming the place. He pushed up against the wall of the building, keeping in the shadows as he headed toward the street. Peeking out around the corner, he caught a glimpse of a soldier that had been told to wait out front and keep watch. Inside the store, the men were destroying the place, tearing it apart to find him, while another came rushing out asking if the man had seen anyone run by. Logan was stuck, there was no way he could make it out of this alleyway undetected and there
were too many guards to fight alone.
“Psst…” one of the working women from the brothel was beckoning him from a nearby window, while her friend ducked to get a good look at him. Logan pointed at himself and shrugged.
The woman nodded urgently, waving for him to get inside. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he hopped right through just in time to avoid one of the watchmen as he rounded the corner. Logan silently thanked the women. One of them held a finger to her lips, pulling him toward the back of the apartments, past dozens of half-naked women, to where their Madame was waiting beside an armoire.
“C’mon now lad, out through here you go.” She urged while swinging the thing wide to reveal a hidden stairwell that led almost straight upward.
“In the nine heavens I don’t know how I could ever repay you lady!” He jeered at the sight of the escape route.
“Any friend o’ my little Beauford is a friend o’ mine, laddie, now add some pepper to it and get going.” She urgently whispered, shoving him into the portal and slamming it shut behind. As he climbed the steep stairs, he could hear soldiers storming her place demanding to know if he was inside. Logan had no doubt the woman could handle the angry guards with her charms. At the top of the steep passageway, he came to a porthole that opened out to an alleyway beside a great stone mansion.
“For Pete’s sake, I’m all the way up by the bloody arch councilor’s palace!” he thought, looking down the hill toward the lower levels. Logan had an epiphany then, one that shook the very fiber of his being. He could see how foolish his actions had been earlier that evening, thinking he would somehow be able to go back to Riverbell and escape from the weight of his accused crime. Fafnir wanted him dead, though he was not entirely certain why, and between him and home was more than half a city, filled with watchmen looking for the “murderer”.
Secrets of the Elders Kindle Version Page 14