Cassana PoV [https://i.imgur.com/EupPuxS.jpeg]

Ashvell quickly pulled Cassana away from the window. “What in Seti’s breath was that?” she screamed.

She looked at Frederick. His body was slowly tipping forward from its seated position, with the long metallic projectile piercing through his body. Its tip finally touched the floor creating a sight too gut-wrenching to behold. His muscles and joints started twitching and his mouth began spitting blood. Cassana instinctively stood up to get to him, but Ashvell pulled her back towards the wall.

“We gotta help him,” Cassana cried. She tried to peek at the window and after seeing a glimpse of a person, she ducked down again and another spear shot through the opening, almost hitting her.

“What was it?” asked Ashvell.

“There’s a person on the roof. Has some kind of weapon on his arm…” She glanced back at the dying Frederick. He was looking at them with eyes that spelled helplessness and despair. Cassana felt a pit in her stomach. “We have to help him.”

“I’ll get his attention,” Ashvell grabbed the crossbow off Cassana’s hands and started crawling underneath the window. He reached the other side and aimed his weapon over the ledge. He saw the man on the roof across the central courtyard. As soon as he pressed his finger on the trigger, Cassana ran to Frederick and tried to pull him away.

“You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay,” she wailed.

Ashvell spanned and loaded his crossbow for another shot, while Cassana tried her best to stay out of the shooter’s vantage point, pulling Frederick to safety. But then, another spear shot through the window hitting the poor man right on his head. His skull cracked and shattered, throwing brain matter across the room.

Cassana’s panicked shrieks echoed through the warm, high-noon air. Ashvell took a deep breath, aimed for the man again, and took another shot. Not a quarter-of-a-second after he pulled the trigger, he saw the shooter flinched in pain. “I got him!”

The redhead stared at the gory sight in front of her and a sliver of memory tried to slip through her head. Early morning, cold breeze of wind, the smell of leaves, and the lifeless body of Otheric in her arms. She quickly closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, not today, no.

She tightened her fist to a ball and attempted to stand up, that was when she realized that Ashvell was trying to talk to her from across the room.

“What do we do? Cass, what do we do?” He kept repeating.

“Let’s go get him,” she told her friend with a resolute tone and vengeful eyes.

“How?”

“I’ll have that,” she pointed at Lira’s crossbow, “grab your axe and get up to the roof.”

Ashvell passed his weapon to Cassana and grabbed his battleaxe. The redhead aimed over the window ledge and spotted the man trying to look for them from across the courtyard. His face was covered with a mask, and she could see where her friend’s bolt hit him a moment ago. He was taking cover behind the ridge of the tiled roof, looking in their direction.

The man quickly ducked down when he saw her aiming at him. “Go!” shouted Cassana.

Ashvell dragged his axe and hopped over the windowsill to a hanging balcony above the courtyard. There was a ladder leading downward to another balcony below them. He looked up and saw that he could reach the roof if he stepped onto the balcony’s railings and jumped up and grabbed onto the edge of the roof tiles. He tossed his weapon ahead of him and did exactly that.

The redhead took note of what Ashvell did as she waited for the shooter to reappear. “You see him?” she yelled at him.

“I think? He’s hiding behind that roof. I’ll get him...” The young driver tramped across the tiled roof, carefully minding its slanted angle. The apartment complex sat on a square lot, east of the main road. It had a narrow alleyway separating it from an adjacent building opposite the street, and shared walls with two other buildings on its north and south sides. The open space courtyard in the middle of the building gave Cassana a good vantage point of the top of the roof across from Frederick’s unit.

She held her breath and scanned the ridge, alert for any sudden movement. Soon, she saw Ashvell to her left, laboriously running along the inward rafters, axe in hand. Once her friend was nearing the opposite side, she took her turn to hop over the window to the balcony.

Being shorter than Ashvell by almost a foot, she knew she wouldn’t be able to reach the roof even if she climbed over the balcony railings. If I could only cast a spell right now, she grunted to herself.

She could cast a magic spell, but nothing too powerful. She knew of some minor prestidigitation spells—parlor tricks, really—that would only consume little energy from her body. And given what was at stake, she figured it would be worth the risk. She hung the strap of Lira's crossbow over her shoulder and recited an incantation. Suddenly, a force pushed up against the heels of her feet, thrusting her upwards by a few inches. It was enough to reach the edge of the roof with her elbow.

She felt the searing heat of the tiles against her skin. She quickly stood up on the roof and saw Ashvell finally reaching the other side. “He’s running away!” her friend reported.

“Follow him, I’ll be right behind you,” she shouted back. Carefully, she stepped across the rafters, one tile at a time, and watched Ashvell disappear behind the ridge.

Finally, she reached the spot where the shooter was hiding earlier. She looked up ahead to find Ashvell already on the roof of the next building. Pressured to catch up, she bent her knee and slid down the roof. As she reached its edge, she shifted the balance around her hip and pushed herself upwards and jumped across to the roof of the adjacent building.

Continuing forward, she climbed up to the next ridge and there she could see the man they were chasing. He was climbing up on another roof around twenty feet away from her. Ashvell was halfway across between them, taking a casual jump to the next building.

She grabbed the crossbow and started aiming. She took a deep breath but decided not to shoot. She was not as good of a shot as her friend was, not even close, and she knew it would only be a waste of a bolt. Besides, she only had one chance at hitting their target, since she forgot to get the quiver of bolts hanging by Ashvell’s belt.

Instead, she continued running towards her quarry, trying to stay steady along the crest of the roof. That was when she remembered another prestidigitation spell, one that would give her a slight advantage. So, she jumped down and up onto another rooftop, and as she was climbing up again to reach the brow, she recited an incantation and cast True Strike.

It was as spell used mainly for entertainment. Say, you want to hit the bullseye on a dart board or toss a dagger to hit an apple on top of another person’s head; a sly wizard would cast it on the projectile, programming it to land exactly on a spot they could clearly see within a certain range.

Cassana reached another ridge, and with the help of the sights on the crossbow, aimed the spell at the man’s leg. She then pulled the trigger as soon as she finished her incantation. The bolt shot up, waywardly. After flying a few feet following its trajectory, it then magically took a turn to zip towards her target.

The redhead almost fell down from the kick of the crossbow and had a hard time maintaining her balance. She could already feel the effect of the two spells she cast, as her vision began to go blurry. The running up and down also added to her exhaustion. Nevertheless, she looked up and saw her bolt dive down and disappear behind a rooftop way ahead of her.

She stopped to catch her breath. She felt the heat of the sun assaulting her pale skin, and her cheeks were already burning hot. Cassana wiped a sweat from her brows and tossed back her hair, regretting that she forgot to bring a hair tie that morning.

Cassana steeled herself and slid down the roof then jumped up and over to the next. Before she could even reach the crest, she could already hear the clashes of metal from the other side. Finally, she crawled up to the top of the roof, but she didn’t prepare herself for what she saw.

Ashvell was fighting a man, with raven black locks, and a mask covering half of his face. Her friend was holding his own very well, swinging his axe left and right, pushing his enemy to the edge of the roof. His opponent, however, wasn’t wielding any weapon. Instead, from his shoulder hung a metallic appendage, extending to almost five feet long, From the joint where his elbow should be, the metallic arm deforms into something elongated and flat with a sharp edge, like an oversized razor blade.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cassana took a minute to fathom what she was seeing. She thought the man fired some kind of weapon from the rooftop, but his hand itself was the weapon. After several feints, Ashvell made a swing that he was sure would hit, but instead, the man’s arm transformed from a blade to a shield in a split second.

The young wizard’s jaw dropped after seeing what just transpired. She almost tripped getting down from the top of the roof while keeping her eyes transfixed to the person Ashvell was fighting. The man took advantage of Ashvell’s open defenses and gave him a kick that knocked him off balance.

As the young driver gathered his footing, the man waved his metallic arm and it changed into a polearm. He lunged forward and took the offensive, but Ashvell managed to dodge away. The man followed with two more thrusts before raising his heel up from the tiled roof and throwing a haymaker with his right fist.

Ashvell didn’t see that last punch coming so its full blow hit him on his left shoulder, and he staggered back once more. The man then twisted around and raised his left arm up. His metallic appendage now took the appearance of a battleaxe, the same weapon the young driver was holding.

He swung the weapon down towards Ashvell. Luckily, the young driver was able to step back, and the edge of the axe only managed to scrape over his chest, ripping through clothes and flesh. Cassana shouted for her friend’s name and the mystery man turned to face her.

She raised her crossbow up and aimed it at the man, who then tried to shield his body using his metallic appendage. But no bolt fired from Cassana’s weapon since she already ran out of projectiles. That didn’t matter since all she wanted to do was distract their opponent.

The man realized his mistake, but it was too late. Ashvell was already back on his feet. He grabbed his axe and swung it up to his enemy as if he was felling a tree. His ribs cracked at impact, and blood started gushing out from his side.

The man stepped back, frustrated from being blindsided by the two. Despite his injury, he remained standing while yelping out agonizing screams. He stared at Ashvell with fiery eyes and rushed forward. The young driver raised his axe to his front, ready to block whatever attack his enemy would bring, but he didn’t notice the mysterious man again transforming his metallic arm into something else.

The man’s elbow pulled farther behind for a backswing and moved around Ashvell’s guard. It now had the appearance of a pair of claws, like the ones you can find on a pliers’ heads. Or a cooking tong. It wrapped around Ashvell’s neck and proceeded to squeeze it firmly.

“Ashvell!!” The redhead screamed for her friend’s name once again as she scrambled across the roof to jump to the next one. The young driver tried to get free to no avail. He knelt down as he began to suffocate.

Cassana reached them and out of desperation started casting another spell. A small set of loud and bright sparks, accompanied by smoke, cracked in front of the man’s face, disorienting him. He reeled back, loosening his grip on Ashvell’s neck.

The young driver pulled himself out of the man’s grapple. He gasped for breath and grabbed his weapon and took a big swing, taking advantage of the man’s open defense. The head of his axe planted deep into the man’s left shoulder, just inches above where his metallic arm was connected, cutting through flesh, muscle, and bone. The man staggered back, bleeding.

Meanwhile, Cassana dropped on all fours. She felt the nausea climbing up from her stomach and she tried to stand up, but her knees gave way. Her body dropped on the sunbaked, tiled rooftop as she drifted out of consciousness.

When she came to, she found herself almost dangling from the roof, with half of her leg hanging out of the eaves. She quickly rolled over and gathered herself, while looking for her friend.

Ashvell and the mystery man had brought their fight down to the street. The latter had his metallic arm drooping from his left shoulder, with only a half a clavicle keeping it in place. His right fist, however, was still busy pounding and smashing against the young driver’s body.

Cassana noticed her friend’s injury. She followed the trail of blood from the roof and realized that he had probably fallen down to a third-floor balcony where he dropped his weapon. Then onto a canopy roof of a shop by the sidewalk and finally to the streets below. She picked up Lira’s crossbow, hung it over her shoulder and hopped down onto the terrace.

The redhead collected Ashvell’s axe and climbed on top of the balustrade, while again screaming her friend’s name. She wasn’t sure if he heard him with the way he was recklessly throwing punches and elbows against his opponent. Nevertheless, she tossed his weapon out and above the canopy roof, into the street below.

“Ashvell, look out!” She shouted one last time and she herself jumped down the balustrade, bouncing and skimming down the thick cloth of the shop’s roof. Unfortunately, it wasn’t made to handle the full weight of a person and she ripped through the canopy and plummeted to the fruit stall underneath it.

As luck would have it, Cassana landed on a crate of oranges and peaches, saving her tailbone from breaking. She got up and stepped out to find a bedlam of gore and violence in the middle of the street.

There was now a large crowd gathering around them, watching Ashvell and the mystery man beat each other to a pulp. Crates and boxes were scattered about, along with an assortment of goods and merchandise. Half of the people were shouting for them to stop, while the other half were cheering.

Finally, the man with the metal arm fell down to his knee, his torso bobbing back and forth in exhaustion. Ashvell finally found his battleaxe and picked it up. He swung up above the man’s head, but soon as he was about to land a killing blow, they heard the wheezing sound of a whistle coming from the crowd.

A City Watch patrol pushed their way through the throng, holding their spears and crossbows. Ashvell awoke from his frenzy and Cassana stepped forward beside him, holding her hands up. She urged her friend to do the same.

The young driver dropped his weapon to the ground and surrendered.

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“I told you, I work for the Legate,” Cassana kept repeating as she and Ashvell were being processed back in the City Watch headquarters. The guards tied their hands and sat them down, but when she showed them the emblem the Arcturus gave, they decided against putting them inside a cell this time.

As for the mystery man, his upper body, including his one remaining arm, was wrapped in chains. A pair of shackles were around his ankles, and he gagged, and locked inside a cell.

One of the guards recognized Cassana from the other day and joked, “hey, red, you’re back again. It’s too early for the curfew violation, what did you do this time?”

Cassana sighed as the rest of the guards laughed.

“Ah, right, I remember you guys,” one other guard commented, “you were arrested for a curfew violation. You didn’t tell us you work for the Tower…”

“Cause we weren’t yet, back then…” defended Cassana. “Look, can you just untie us…?”

“Not until we verify your claim. We already sent a message to the Legate.” The guard studied Ashvell from his head to his half-torn clothes over his bleeding body, “and seeing what your friend did to the other guy inside, we’re not gonna take our chances.”

A minute later an officer, who introduced himself as an investigator, started questioning the two, asking for the specific details of what happened. Cassana was careful not to slip anything regarding the case of the kidnapped children, keeping to their cover of working for the Legate. She also kept mum about Frederick’s final words.

Afterwards, Lieutenant Von Schreiber arrived and assisted in the interrogation. They questioned them about the mysterious man, but they could not provide any definitive answer. Cassana had her theories, however, but she kept them all to herself. The lieutenant eventually stepped out to call her superior.

As the day continued to wind down, something happened that stirred up the Watch members in their headquarters. The pylon just outside their building started to glow and emitted a sound. Half of the people drew out their weapons, while the other half braced themselves for what was coming. Suddenly, a peculiar shape appeared just outside the door, hovering about two feet off the ground.

Cassana recognized what it was. She yelled out to the other Watch members to move aside, and the shape quickly grew like a leather pouch that was suddenly filled with water. The glow and sound from the pylon were building up, brighter and louder, until it stopped. The shape was gone, and its place stood Professor Arcturus in his long flowy robe. He stomped his staff on the floor and greeted everyone.

Almost at the same time, a pair of heavy footsteps echoed from upstairs. It was from Captain Hrothgar, who was saluted by his men soon as he entered the room. His eyes, however, quickly locked on to the old wizard.

“Salutations, Steffan!” Professor Arcturus greeted Captain Hrothgar as they met face to face.

“Good afternoon, Gregori. What brings you to our headquarters?”

“Two prongs. The first one is the matter of impelling to collect the liaisons myself sent to audit the reportage of the pylons of magical detection.” Professor Arcturus motioned his hand towards Cassana and Ashvell and the former nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Second,” the old wizard continued, “to behold a certain individual recounted to have unnatural, nay, stupefying abilities.” He waded through a number of guards idling at the station like stepping through grass and headed straight to the prison cells. There, he took a gander at the mysterious man that Cassana and Ashvell fought.

Captain Hrothgar followed behind him, flanked by Lieutenant Von Schreiber.

“Quite intriguing. Now, myself have heard deponents claiming that this man’s left appendage, which is fabricated entirely of metal, can metamorphose into a variety of shapes, is that factual?” Professor Arcturus’ voice boomed across the whole headquarters. Hrothgar tried to answer him, but soon as he opened his mouth, the old wizard called for Cassana.

The redhead stood up and approached the two, “that is true, Professor.” She answered him. “I’ve seen it firsthand.”

The old wizard stroked his beard as he entered deep into his thoughts. Feeling impatient, Captain Hrothgar turned his back and gathered as many Watchmen as he could and started asking them for details of what transpired in the East district.

Meanwhile, Cassana’s eyes locked on to the commander of the city watch. She tried her best not to display her repulsion of the military man, taking several deep breaths just to calm herself down. She wanted to confront him as soon as he showed himself, but she knew it would be in vain. The captain was on his home turf, and Cassana knew that to win, she had to fight him on her own terms.

“It is decided then!” The old wizard raised his finger and stepped out of the prison hall, “the Tower would be taking this person into its custody.”

“No,” Hrothgar replied. “I am sorry, Gregori, but that is simply not possible.”

“Pray, tell.”

“It is as it is.”

“Not sufficient,” the old wizard turned around and grabbed Cassana by her arms, “my child, take this man into the Small Tower where would hence—”

“Stop.” Soon as he finished speaking, the watchmen unsheathed their spears and stood alert. “Gregori, please, do not make a fool of yourself. The city is under martial law, which means my word is mandate. Neither you nor any of your pawns would leave my headquarters with our prisoner.”

“Hey look,” Cassana blurted out impulsively, “that man is magic. If you wanna figure out what makes him tick, you need us. You need the wizards. So, whether you like it or not, we’ll take him to the Small Tower—” The redhead tried to step back into the prison halls, but one guard blocked her way.

Hrothgar gave an amused smile at Cassana’s words and actions.