Akna waited until the next guard had passed, then looked around. There was no one out on the grounds to see her, so she moved up to the wall. She waited another half-minute to make sure the previous guard was far enough along that he wouldn’t hear the grapple.
When she felt it was safe, she stepped back a couple feet, pulled out enough length of rope that she could still spin it, but also get enough momentum for the throw. She spun the grapple and rope a couple times and then released it. It flew over the top of the wall and hit the other side with a thud. She pulled back on the rope until the grapple caught hold of something—probably one of the battlements—and a few tugs didn’t bring it all tumbling down.
Akna looked along both lengths of the wall and then behind her. There didn’t seem to be anyone who had noticed. One benefit of this freezing weather: it kept people inside.
She gave the rope one more hard tug just to be sure, then started to climb as fast as she could. This was the most vulnerable part of her escape.
When she reached the top, she didn’t waste any time before looking over the opposite side. The ground was covered in a thick layer of undisturbed snow. That should help cushion a jump, though it was impossible to say what was under the snow—dirt, rocks, or something else. A bit farther out was the edge of a copse of trees. She would be exposed getting to it, but if she could get there, she would be safer. She began pulling up the rope.
The next guard on patrol was already in sight. That guard started to run, pulling out a bell and ringing it as he went.
That settled it. She had to jump.
She unhooked the grapple, and tossed it and the rope off the side. She didn’t want the guards using it to help them follow her. Then she climbed onto the battlement.
“You! Stop!” The guard had stopped and tossed aside his alarm bell. He had taken out a crossbow and was loading it.
Akna leapt off the battlement, and rolled as she landed. The snow got all up inside her cloak and clothes, but otherwise, the impact was gentle. She got to her feet and took off just as a crossbow bolt shot through the snow where she’d just been.
Running through the snow wasn’t easy. She zigzagged as much as she could, stumbled several times, and fell face-first into the snow a couple times. A few crossbow bolts swished past her. Another sunk into the snow beside her. Another tore her cloak. Yet another slammed into the tree beside her just as she reached the copse.
She ducked behind the tree and took a moment to catch her breath. No further bolts flew at her. Overall, there had been fewer than she had expected. She should count her blessings. She also shouldn’t stop for long. They’d be after her on foot soon.
The question was, where to now? She needed to get moving before her feet froze and she couldn’t move anymore.
The city. She could lose them in the city, then get to Agernon’s.
She wove through the trees to the far side of the copse. Getting to Agernon’s from here was straight-forward. She knew the way well. It was just a quick trip through the noble district, then across town. The problem was going unnoticed. Her haphazard clothing would draw attention in the noble district. She didn’t look like a noble, a guard, or a servant, but it was a risk she had to take.
She stepped out of the trees and walked into the street, trying to move confidently, as if she was supposed to be there. Foliths had a way of ignoring people if they behaved like they were supposed to be there. Foliths would just assume they were servants on an errand.
The snow was better packed in the street. It made it easier to walk, but it was still blisteringly cold and it stung like hell, but she ignored it. If she didn’t react to it, maybe no one would notice she was barefoot. Even servants didn’t go barefoot. She looked at no one, and avoided eye contact.
She made it a block without any issue.
Then there were yells in the street behind her. She made a point of not looking back, kept moving forward, and acted like it had nothing to do with her.
More yells followed, and then the clanking of metal armour and boots. People on the street ahead of her moved aside, some of them pointing at her and yelling, “Over here!”
Shit.
She ran, nearly slipped on the slick ground. A man on the street tried to grab her, but she wove around him. Most others stayed out of her way, content to let the guards chase her. Even with the snow to dampen it, the sound of their boots rang down the street.
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Up ahead, a group of the City Watch turned in her direction.
Not good.
She weaved to the side, towards a horse-drawn wagon stopped in front of the gate to an estate. There was no sign of the driver. That was good.
Akna ran straight for the horse, fumbling at the sword at her waist. She ran between the horse and the gate, and stopped for a moment, still working at the sword. She managed to untie it from her belt. Then she screamed as loud as she could into the horse’s ear, and whacked the horse in the side with the still-sheathed sword.
The horse screamed and bolted. The wagon creaked and bounced as the horse pulled it over the wooden stoppers that had been placed at the wheels to stop it from rolling. Akna dove over the low wall of the estate as crates tumbled off the wagon, and the horse and wagon careened into the street.
Akna took off across the grounds. People were running from the house in her direction. One had a crossbow.
She reached the wall separating it from the next estate. She grabbed the top of the wall and pulled herself up. A crossbow bolt slammed into her exposed arm, between her elbow and wrist. She cried out, and flipped herself over the opposite side.
She rolled in the snow, and hopped to her feet. She clutched at her arm, blood gushing. The bolt hadn’t lodged in, just torn a deep gash. She wrapped the cloak around her arm, tried to keep it tight, but she didn’t have time to tie it properly.
She dashed—stumbled more like—across the grounds. This time, she headed in the direction of the house, not the next estate. She couldn’t let the guards chasing her just follow parallel on the street. She had to mix it up a bit.
She ran round the far side of the house. More yells came from the street, and one from the door of the house. “Hey! What are you doing?”
She ignored them, and ran to the back of the house. There was a garden there, but little growing in it, just a couple snow-draped bushes, and one leafless tree. The wall behind the garden was taller than the ones separating this estate from the ones on either side. Probably to “protect’ the estate from the lower-class district on the other side. Fucking Foliths.
She could probably climb the wall if it weren’t for her injured arm.
But the tree. She might be able to climb the tree. It was taller than the wall and close enough to it that she should be able to jump to the top of the wall. She rushed to the tree.
“Stop!”
She ignored whoever it was.
A bad decision.
She reached for the lower branch of the tree with her good arm. Another arm wrapped around her neck and pulled her backwards.
She kicked out, and both Akna and her assailant fell backwards into the snow. She was on top of him, but he put his other arm around her, holding her down.
Akna gasped for breath, and kicked out again. She hit the side of the man’s foot, kicked at it several times, then brought her foot down on top of his leg.
Finally, he gasped and his grip loosened. She lifted her head a little, then dropped it back down onto his. With a cry, he let go of her.
Akna bounded to her feet and leapt for the lowest branch. She got hold of it with the hand on her good arm, then reached with the other. The cloak unwrapped as she grabbed hold of the branch. It was painful, but she would manage.
The man grabbed at her legs, but she kicked him in the face. He fell back over, and she pulled herself up onto the branch. It only took another moment to climb the next couple branches and be level with the wall. She leapt.
She flew over the other side of the wall, and hit the ground. She sat up, back pressed up against the wall. People on the street stared at her for a moment, but gradually turned back to what they’d been doing. She couldn’t see any guards, but someone was bound to call for one. Wrapping the blood-soaked cloak around her injured arm again, she hopped to her feet, and set off. She moved quickly, but not at a run, so as not to draw too much attention. In this part of the city, she wouldn’t look so out of place.
She hoped.
This area was not familiar to her. Although she’d been in Quorge for a couple months now, she discovered she didn’t know it all that well—considerably less well than she’d thought. She’d spent all her time going between just three locations. They weren’t particularly close together, but the routes she and Felitïa had used had stayed pretty constant. Now that she was off-route, she wasn’t entirely sure how to get where she was going.
She knew the general direction though, and eventually, she reached a street she was familiar with. From here, it would be easy going—again, she hoped. Her arm was going numb; her feet were already numb. She was going to be in terrible condition once she made it to Agernon’s. Assuming she made it.
At least she seemed to have evaded her pursuit. No one had been running after her since she made it over that last wall.
A pair of City Watch passed her. They turned up their noses at her, but didn’t otherwise react. She’d managed to stay ahead of word about her.
She passed through the plaza with the well Felitïa had been so obsessed with those first first few days after arriving in the city. As on previous occasions, there was a line of people waiting to access the well. Felitïa had learned something here—remembered something about her past. At the time, it had seemed important and Akna had been interested. Now, it just seemed a waste of time. Had anything come of it? Had anything come of anything they’d been doing here?
Akna had endured so much at the palace, just so Felitïa could keep studying, and they had gained no answers. Agernon had made no progress with the Staff or Corvin. They had learned nothing perusing the library at the Hall of Knowledge, and almost nothing from the Ninifin secrets. What was the point of it all?
She just wanted to go back to Ninifin, join the resistance, and fight for her home. It didn’t matter if she became queen at the end of it. In fact, she’d prefer she didn’t.
She hoped Anita was all right.