"Where are you, Melshek?" Kaltor muttered from his perch three stories above the marketplace. His skin vision resonated from the roof like a slow, steady heartbeat as he scanned the many faces for the creature—Melshek—or any black-blooded victims.
Two hours have already passed. He counted in his head, restraining the urge to run screaming a warning through the streets. There would be little he could do, indeed, if he were labeled a lunatic and thrown into prison for the city’s protection.
He could be anywhere by now! Kaltor lamented. Building another altar and gathering new victims. This would be so much easier if he hadn’t switched back to his human form! After scaling the wall, Melshek had melted into the crowd, hiding somewhere away from his usual places of work as a nobleman.
For the eighth time, he dug his blade into the mortar at his feet, widening the holes already there from his earlier internal debates. How does Master Taneth remain so immovable during missions? I know we’re supposed to leave no trace of our passage but this— He’s loose in the city. I can’t find him!
"Tradehouses, the castle, merchant divisions from the capital—" he continued down the list. I haven’t missed any of them, so he must be hiding somewhere else in the city. Homes, stores, and guard houses for ten thousand people spread out before him. With a sigh of defeat, Kaltor stopped counting.
"Okay," he muttered to himself. "The next best option is to be as prepared as possible for his next assault," He sheathed his dagger and walked along the rooftop ‘til he stood over an expensive inn. Each room had a small balcony protruding from each story of the building, overlooking the marketplace.
Master Taneth would want me to find a less obvious way down, but there isn’t any time. Drawing on a bit of power to steady his reflexes, Kaltor leapt out into space.
He landed in a crouch on the floor of the third-story balcony. A thin serving woman stood at the door, tray full of steaming, hot food in hand, staring at him in surprise. With a courteous wave, Kaltor said, "If you see a slightly shorter man passing through with a short sword, tell him to watch for my signal."
"Of course— sir," she said, maintaining her composure and placing her burden on the table. "Would you like to stay for tea?"
"No time," he said with a grateful nod, leaping backward over the fence of the third-story patio. He caught the edge of the floor as he fell and swung down to the second story, propelling his body over the fence of the second balcony, landing next to a small table loaded in a server's tray.
A tea pot sailed past his head, shattering against the fence and sending searing hot juice cascading in every direction. He managed to glimpse a woman lounging on a cot next to the table, partially disrobed in the sunlight. Before embarrassment could register on his face, she hurled a porcelain cup at him and screamed, "Hassan!"
That’s a curse word I’ve never heard before, Kaltor thought, turning toward the balcony to survey his next jump. From inside the building he felt a Varadour draw on his powers and the largest, hairiest man he’d ever seen rounded the corner, battle-axe in hand.
Oh, Kaltor realized. It’s a name.
"Easy!" He said, hands raised innocently. "It’s just–"
Hassan swung the weapon high overhead and brought it crashing down. Kaltor dropped to a crouch, letting the weapon hit the stone balcony behind him, sending chips of stone down his shirt. Oh, bloody Abyss, that’s going to itch all day, he thought grimly, sprinting into the man’s legs with all his might. The guard did not budge.
With the ease of removing a small child, the man grabbed Kaltor by the front of his shirt collar and held him in the air a few feet above the ground. In desperation, Kaltor tried a variety of kicks and pressure points. The man only grunted inconsequentially. "What shall I do with him, my lady?" he asked.
"Toss him!" the noble woman demanded, belting her robe on tighter. "Make sure he hits the ground hard!"
Oh, for the love of the Gods! Kaltor thought. A twenty-foot fall for interrupting your morning tea? What happens when someone actually crosses you?!
Hassan shrugged, hauling his cargo toward the balcony. Guess he just answered my question, Kaltor surmised. A wave of relief washed over him as his skin vision displayed his surroundings in black-and-white. Perfect.
With the ease of tossing a bag of carrots, Hassan threw him through the air. Kaltor pivoted in mid-fall, hooking the edge of the broken balcony with his toe and even managed a stylish wave farewell to the noble woman as he directed his momentum straight down toward the next balcony.
Releasing his toe hold before Hassan could react, Kaltor let his momentum carry him into a somersault. Using his skin vision to watch his progress, he landed firmly on the balcony of the first story apartment, forcing his body to stop with a labored grunt.
He grinned up at Hassan’s surprised face, the noble woman peeking over the edge as well. That wasn’t so bad, he thought. Then her eyes burst a striking shade of blue, and Sight Seeker power gathered in her hands. "Never mind," he grumbled.
Even as he rolled over the balcony and onto the floor, a wave of mind-altering energy sank into his skull. His balance disappeared as his vision told him he had flipped upside down, leaving him with the impression that he was walking on the ceiling. Gotta keep moving, he thought, trying to ignore the mental injury as he rose hesitantly to his feet. She just might send Hassan after me.
With all the composure he could muster, he walked into the adjoining room, nodding respectfully to the confused-looking elderly nobleman. The man stared at him in surprise, holding a chunk of roast duck on his fork just inside his open mouth.
"Excuse me," Kaltor apologized, walking straight across the room and smashing into the door frame. Curse that woman! he groaned. She inverted my left and right reflexes, as well! Above him loud footsteps pounded down the stairs.
"Wish these people were so dedicated to stopping all the banditry outside their city," Kaltor grumbled, closing his eyes and feeling his way along the hall. "Maybe we need to kidnap a Bandit Lord and drop him into a princess’s lap while she dines in the morning," He stumbled down the hallway and around the corner, though it took him two tries to make the turn, and slowed his pace as he reached the street.
A few of the patrons glanced disdainfully at his mud-covered animal skin clothes. But the record keeper at the base of the stairs, her eyes glued to a report of some kind, waved habitually in his direction without looking up. "Hope you enjoyed your stay."
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Kaltor grumbled. First order of business is buying a strong length of rope I can use to climb down into those alleys. I am not going by that route again! Nodding cheerfully to the guard by the door, he let himself out. Lucky for me the man is paid to keep rabble out, not in.
By the time Hassan reached the street, Kaltor had already mixed with the people milling their way through town. Okay, Master Taneth, he grumbled. I see what you were trying to teach us about preparation and subtlety.
The crowd set his senses on edge. Too many times he’d been taught how to use such groups as cover to escape or get close to a target without being detected. The situation could easily be reversed, however, if anyone in the market held strong feelings against Battleborn like him. A small crowd of children passed, laughing and swinging sticks toward each other as if they were swords. As he reached behind his belt for his coin pouch, he encountered another pair of fingers behind him with similar plans.
Without a sound Kaltor caught the pickpocket’s hand, jabbed a pressure point at the base of his wrist, and added in a burst of Varadour power. "Get a real job or next time I’ll take your entire arm," Kaltor growled. The boy hissed in pain, babying his stunned hand and disappearing in the throng of shoving people.
Best get cleaned up or stick to the rooftops, Kaltor decided. I won’t be able to hunt Melshek if half the pickpockets are hunting me looking for revenge, not to mention that beast Hassan. He paused, guilt and relief hitting him at the same time. I should visit Honmour’s family now, he decided. I can clean
up there and warn them to flee.
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