With a pounding heart, he hid beneath a foot bridge. The guards had spotted him as he fled the shop. Two of them made chase, but a few more joined the revelry as he passed them at speed. He'd managed to slip them long enough to catch his breath, and he was busy cramming his cloak into the already overstuffed backpack. The ugly aspect had worn off during his escape, but he never bothered reapplying the spell, since it would make it too obvious he was the target of the search. The sound of armoured boots clinked on the cobble above his head, so he stayed as still and silent as he could, to listen to their conversation. The man that was taking charge among them was barking orders, sending his underlings off to different sections of the city.

"I'll take the road to the Tavern. You two take the pyre, he can't have gotten too far yet" the deep voice declared.

"What now, oh great Muunfir?" Uundah asked sarcastically.

"I got us this far didn't I? Have some faith my nervous friend."

Confident the guards above had cleared, he cautioned a climb back to the street. He was shivering in his tunic and trousers, but he'd recently grown rather accustomed to the chilling snow, so he managed to maintain his stride unaffected. The Tavern was still a good five blocks from where he was, and the guards were smart enough to recognise that he might be headed there. His only hope was that he could blend into the crowd. Hopefully they only noticed the shining silver cloak, and not the bulky and tattered backpack… or the staff. His concerns were entirely warranted, when two guards walking against the flow of pedestrians spotted him, and one pointed him out.

"You there. Don't move!" one of them yelled.

He looked around frantically to try and find an escape, but he was boxed in at either side by large brick walls. They seemed to be apartments, since the windows were evenly spaced where they faced the street, and there were no signs for advertising. He briefly considered attempting to scurry into one of the windows, but decided being closed in a room might not make for such a great getaway. Behind him was a dense crowd of people, more than a few recognising that he was getting called out by the city guard. A few patriotic citizens had started to bunch together, making his escape in that direction unlikely. Turning his attention back the the guards, he groaned. Knowing it was time for some more wild magic, he prepared a mass of force aspect, and charged the guards. He had no intention of attempting to fight the trained swordsmen, so as he stomped within a few steps of them, he pointed Uundah at the ground and released the spell. A guttural noise was torn from his throat as the invisible force launched him spinning into the air. His aim was to clear the men and keep running, but wild magic was rarely so forgiving. The crowd let out a collective gasp when the exhausted Warlock flew an easy twelve feet into the air. The gasp was followed by a cringing groan from the onlookers, when he landed on the cobble with a back breaking slap. Wasting no time, he got to his feet and took off again, though in immense pain. Some onlookers cheered for him after seeing his stunt, and that was enough to instil a new found vigour for the pursuit.

He rounded a corner to find another guard, and managed to duck beneath the incoming bear hug. The street he was running through now was familiar. The stables he'd met Oats at were behind a wall, so he dared another jaunt through its yard, allowing him another brief reprieve from the guards.

"Lot long now" he assured his O'jin, panting with his tongue out.

"They know where you're going" Uundah insisted.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"That's a problem for later" he responded, pulling himself onto the roof. He could see the Tavern from his vantage point, and he briefly considered trying another force jump, but decided against it when the pain in his back reminded him of the ideas outcome. There was a handful of guards standing outside of the building, knowing they wouldn't be able to arrest him inside. That was a Tavern rule he could suddenly see a use for. He crouched down to stay out of site, and contemplated his next move. He was drawing a blank, until he saw a warrior leave the Tavern. The man was immediately surrounded by guards and questioned, his body language nearly screaming his displeasure. Murphy smirked at Uundah. "I have an idea."

He had Uundah summon the fireball structure, and got to modifying it. Removing the combustion and fire was first, he didn’t intend to harm anyone this time. He replaced them with the ugly aspect, making sure to reduce the concentration at the spells climax. Uundah watched along curiously, helping by generating what his Warlock needed. When he was done, they had a projectile rune that was impossible to look at.

"Are you sure that'll work?" Uundah questioned, the feeling of apprehension coating his thoughts.

"Only one way to find out". He stood for a better shot, and fixed his eyes on his target. He raised his hand and released the spell with reckless abandon, and watched the precarious ball of magic rocket towards the Tavern's front door. The moment it impacted the warrior, all hell broke loose. The spell hit the warriors armour, then splashed outward onto some of the guards. Pandemonium broke out, as the guards attempted to grab the warrior, and each other. The streets erupted into shouting as more guards peeled away from hidden places and surrounded the suspected people, which ended up being a total of four. He saw one guard vomit, and another sway as if he was about to lose his footing. With the arrival of a caged wagon, the commotion started to ease. All four men were tossed into the cart, none of them braved looking at the others. The street was clear of all but one guard within five minutes.

"Well, I guess it worked" Uundah said with a pleased tone.

"And you doubted the power of Muunfir" Murphy sniffed in response. "We'll give it a minute, but I think that did the trick."

"For now at least."

~~

Half an hour later, he was walking through the front door unabated. Sitting at a table at the other end of the room was Serril and May. Nearby, Oats sat alone at his own table. All three patrons turned their attention to him with wide smiles.

He gathered Oats and joined his party, making sure to introduce everyone first thing.

"And you're aware of the mission?" Serril asked Oats, checking a second time if he was still willing to be their auxiliary.

"I am. But I don't intend to be fighting no monsters" he replied.

Serril grunted and nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer. "Alright then. Next order of business is to charter a ship. May and I have gathered supplies already, so we can leave off as soon as that's sorted" he said. "Also, you owe us five slip each for the food" he added as an afterthought.

Murphy nodded along. "The sooner the better I say."

Oats shot him a mischievous smile, prompting a confused look from the others. "I've stabled Sausage closer to the pyre, so we can grab him on the way."

Serril raised an eyebrow at the strange man. "He's a donkey" Oats said to clear the confusion. "Don't worry though he's usually very polite."

"I can vouch for him" Murphy added.

May and Serril looked cautiously at each other, not sure if they'd gotten into a bad situation or not.

"I guess I'll take your word for it" the Demai said awkwardly. "Once you get your advance and you're ready, we will meet at the pyre."

They finished their drinks and stood, leaving Murphy and Oats sitting at the table. Serril pulled his medallion out, and tapped on the communication rune. Following the unspoken instruction, everyone else did the same. They clinked the medals together, and Murphy saw a flash of aspect. He was confident that meant they were connected mentally, since it was the same trick Callus had shown him. "I'll let you know when I have the ship. Maybe go and clean yourself up a little before we spend some months in the sky" Serril said, focusing a friendly smile in Murphy’s direction.

"And don't be late" a woman's voice spoke in his mind. He looked with shock at May, who was standing firmly with her hood up and her arms folded. Murphy crossed his fingers and replied, "Hurry me up, We'll be there with bells on, sore feet."

The whole party looked at him with concern. He held his hands up to apologise. "Still getting used to that trick" he insisted out loud with innocence.

"We're all going to die" May sighed mentally.