Raela screamed around the hasty wool gag tied over her mouth. Thrown over Noz’s shoulder, she couldn’t see much else but smoke swirling around the man’s legs.
The giant jerked and a crash sounded, then he was bounding forward. Raela craned her neck to look behind them. A fat plume of smoke billowed from the shrinking storeroom door. “Grevail!” she shouted into the gag.
Noz raced from the storehouse and rounded the corner of Seirod’s mansion. Even with her over his shoulder, the man galloped through the night as if unburdened, every jarring step accompanied by the jangle of Raela’s chains. Seirod’s house disappeared from beside them, the man now carrying her through the diminishing smoke on the front lawn.
“Don’t let him get away!” came a cry. “He’s Daryn’s spy!”
The shouts raised her hopes and she renewed her efforts to free her hands as she bounced on the big man’s shoulder, but despite screaming as loudly as she could into the gag in her mouth, no rescue came. Noz jumped into the air. A wall passed beneath them, and then the big man’s feet were thudding on pavement.
“Hey!” came a man’s voice. The footsteps of a pursuer chased after them. “Stop!”
Noz ignored the demand and ran onward, covering long strides with ease. He made an abrupt turn, then another, until Raela became lightheaded from being tossed around on his back.
“Halt!” a man’s voice said again, though it sounded further behind than it had before.
Noz did halt, and suddenly, Raela was gliding through the air. She landed hard on her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping to recover her breath and still hanging from her middle, she loosed a startled shriek into the gag when whatever she landed on moved. The horse tossed its head and snorted as Noz climbed into the saddle. Yanking her upright and to his chest, he gathered the reins and kicked the mount into motion.
The sound of pursuit faded as they sped into the night.
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“Let me go!” Tessyn shouted into the hand over her mouth.
Grix never so much as flinched at the kicks she landed on his legs. The storeroom was now engulfed in an inferno, licks of flame rising high into the night sky. Adellus stumbled away from the building, the doorway behind him puffing dark smoke like a giant’s tobacco pipe. Tessyn struggled in Grix’ grip but he squeezed her tight until she thought she was blue in the face.
“What is going on here?” a voice called over the roar of the flames.
Patrons of Seirod’s party, dressed in fine silks and glittering jewelry, were piling out of a rear entrance to gawk at the blaze, whispering in shocked tones. Joszi’s bulbous maroon and gold hat plowed through the crowd before the rest of him came into view. “You there,” the man said and pointed at Grix, mustache wiggling over his lips. “What is happening?” His chestnut-brown eyes dropped to Tessyn and widened.
Seirod burst through the partygoers beside the Thavan, staring at the storeroom in disbelief with an open mouth before a look of rage twisted the features of his face. “What—”
An explosion tore through the air, so powerful it sent Grix to the ground, smothering Tessyn beneath him. She struggled to breath for several moments as they lay there until the tall man righted himself, lifting her into the air with him. One section of the storeroom wall was now a gaping hole filled with an angry orange blaze. A silhouette appeared in that flaming cavern, encircled by fire and smoke. Grevail, coated in soot, stepped from the burning building.
To her horror, Tessyn realized Raela was still in there. “Raela!” she screamed. Grix slapped a hand over her mouth with a curse.
Bodies lay strewn across the lawn. Some people were picking themselves up off the ground, but others remained crumpled piles of limbs moaning in pain. Seirod popped to his feet and jabbed a finger at Grevail. “Stop him!”
The storehouse shook and groaned like thunder on a distant horizon; a burning timber plummeted from the top of the building, landing in a flurry of embers. Then, as if being pulled into hole, the structure folded in on itself with a roar, spawning a swirling bank of black smoke that descended upon the crowd like a monster, plunging them all into darkness.
As the wall of hot smoke overtook them, Grix grabbed Tessyn by the arms and lifted her into the air. Hugging her to his chest like an ungainly parcel, he carried her through the haze, even kicking and writhing as she was. They passed dark shapes splayed out on the ground or bent, coughing on smoke, but none noticed Tessyn’s desperate, muffled cries. A form loomed out of the fog ahead, and Grix hurried to it, smuggling her through the open doors of what she came to realize was a stable. Several carriages were parked inside, and the back wall was lined with horses in stalls, restlessly snorting and tossing their heads as if sensing the commotion outside. The Sifter staggered with her toward a white carriage, and after struggling to open the door with one hand, clamored in and shoved her in a seat.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Don’t you scream,” he said, looking her in the eye. He reached to shut the door while his other hand covered her mouth, pressing her head to the wall.
She snarled and did her best to bite his hand or land a fist in his ribs, but the man eventually pinned her into a position where she could hardly move.
“I thought I saw you go this way.” Iphik materialized in the hazy air beyond the carriage window, casting a wary glance over his shoulder at the stable doors. “You saw it in his hand?”
Grix nodded. “Not much good it does us. I didn’t see where he went.”
Iphik cursed. “Neither did I. At least you captured her. I do not know where the others are, but if we want to get our cut from Erphele she might be the only way we will get it. If Seirod captures him, we’ll never see so much as one ess.”
“Right, well we’re not out of here yet. If Seirod finds us with her, we might not leave alive.”
Iphik’s eyes widened, as if he’d not thought of that, and he spun toward the stable doors. “I will get Erphele. Keep her quiet. Find out what she knows about where he went.”
Grix returned his eyes to Tessyn as Iphik disappeared.
“Please, let me go,” she pleaded into his hand. “I don’t know anything.” Her eyes went moist, but she refused to shed a tear in his presence.
The tall man shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss.” His eyes softened, and for a moment it seemed he really meant it, but that hard gaze returned. “I can’t.”
Grix questioned her about Grevail’s intentions and where he might be, but when she refused to answer, the Sifter simply kept her contained until Iphik returned with another man. Strands of the man’s slicked white hair had fallen out of place and his doublet was smudged with soot. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Grix restraining Tessyn and he turned bulging eyes on Iphik. “What is this, Sifter?”
Iphik waved the man toward the front of the carriage. “Be quiet and harness the horses, Ophin.” Ophin seemed as if he might refuse, but after sparing one more look for Tessyn, went to do as asked. Shouts from those still fighting the fire outside penetrated the stable walls.
A beautiful blond woman in a rich blue dress swept into the stable to the carriage door like a swan. White opals connected by a lattice of thin silver chain and draped across her chest were tangled in disarray from the chaos outside. Sharp blue eyes like polished sapphires narrowed on Tessyn, then moved to Grix and narrowed even more. “I hope you haven’t hurt her, Sifter.”
Grix ignored the purposeful jab of Tessyn’s foot into his ankle. “Of course not, Erphele.”
“Good,” Erphele opened the door and flattening her dress with her hands, crowded inside with them. “Young lady, please sit on the floor. I do not want you hurt,” she said in a calming voice with a look for Grix.
Grix pushed Tessyn to the ground with a hand over her mouth. The man then crouched over her, pinning her down.
“Let’s go, Ophin!” called Iphik.
Ophin waited for Erphele to confirm the order before snapping the reins, and the wagon rumbled out of the stable.
***********************************************************************************
“They say it was the Delphines!” a young woman exclaimed, holding an older man’s arm.
The older man assured the young lady everything would be fine and they filed into a thick line of worried party-goers snaking toward the front of Seirod’s mansion. Adellus followed behind the pair, peeking over their shoulders to search for Grevail, but smoke hung heavy in the night air.
“Stop him! He’s Daryn’s spy!” The shout, somewhere ahead, sent Adellus’ heart galloping. They must have spotted Grevail! The throng roiled around him, unnerved murmurs rippling through the attendees.
Adellus spun on his heel with a muffled curse and turned against the crowd, heading back toward smoldering ruins of the storehouse. There must be somewhere to hide or another way out of this place. If they were searching for Grevail, it wouldn’t be long before they found him too. The chaos and dissipating smoke had so far hidden his chains, but he had to get out of sight before someone noticed.
The crowd parted to reveal Seirod standing together with Carbathe. Adellus ducked behind a knot of patrons who were busy staring at the flaming ruins in shock.
Carbathe studied the remains of the still-burning storehouse, snow-white eyebrows cratering over his eyes. “I only know one man who could be responsible for this!” he said, loudly enough for all to hear. Whispers of ‘Daryn’ snaked through the crowd.
Seirod growled and threw his hands in the air. “Yes! Daryn must be responsible! The devious brute! I want answers!”
Moving away from the men, Adellus slipped through the onlookers and past a well to work his way down the side of Seirod’s mansion toward a darkened and empty area of the property ahead. Keeping his chains taut so they wouldn’t make noise, he glanced over his shoulder, though luckily, no one had followed. Scanning the grounds, he searched for some way he might escape.
He stopped at the corner of the mansion to analyze the high wall about twenty paces away. Even without the chains it would be hard to climb, and with them, probably impossible. He peered around the corner toward the front lawn where the thick crowd of nobles stood. Carriages had been drawn from the stable for the more distinguished guests who were now climbing inside. A blue and white carriage rumbled along the gravel path toward the gate.
“Don’t run, Adellus. I don’t want to hurt you, no.”
Adellus spun, planting his back against the cold stone of Seirod’s mansion.
Arxaro crept toward him out of the night, hands extended in front of him in a calming gesture. A large red welt shown down one side of his face.
Adellus scowled at him. “Don’t come any closer! I’ll…I’ll do…something!”
The man's eyes seemed to hold some sympathy. “I know you want to go after your friends, I do, but if you tell us where they went, we can find them together.”
Adellus bellowed a hoarse shout and stumbled into a run toward the crowd on Seirod’s lawn, chains slapping around his ankles.
In a few strides Arxaro closed the gap, wrapping burly arms around him. “I told you I won’t hurt you, yes?”
“Let me go!” Adellus shouted, struggling and kicking in Arxaro’s hands.
None of those at the front of Seirod’s mansion so much as looked in his direction, much less moved to help as Arxaro dragged him from view around the corner.
“I’m sorry, I am,” Arxaro said, clapping a hand over Adellus’ mouth, “but I have to…”