Osran paused, shocked by the sight of the crest. He slowed his pace and quietly followed Skerret and his companion. Still laughing, they rounded a corner and entered a short alleyway. As they turned the corner, Osran was able to catch a glimpse of Skerret’s companion. It was a face he knew from his time serving Torana’s father. Pedrik, Captain of Duke Garon’s guard.
Osran sidled up to the corner the two men had rounded moments before. No building in the Canopy could be called old or unkempt, but the partially hidden location and resulting lack of light illuminating the front of the property lent it an unsettlingly clandestine feel in the otherwise jovial district. Osran checked they had entered the property before he followed. quickly glancing behind him to ensure he was unseen.
The door was simple enough, wood painted white after the fashion he had seen in the rest of the town. Osran put his ear to the smooth surface but could make out only mumbling coming from inside.
Looking about, he could see no other way to access the property from the narrow alleyway, so he returned to the street. There, he quickly deduced he could climb onto the balcony by using one of the vine-covered trellises attached to the wall here. But what to do about being seen?
Osran quickly but calmly approached the closest crowd of patrons as they laughed and drank, enjoying the pleasant evening. Selecting a likely target, a stuffy-looking older man, he coughed politely to gain his attention. Then twice more.
“Yes, what is it?” the frustrated gentleman demanded after the third cough. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Begging your pardon, Lord,“ Osran bowed his head and averted his eyes. “I’ve been asked to give you a message.”
“Yes, well what is it? You dull-witted barrel bung.” Osran clenched his teeth, hoping his lowered head sufficiently hid his grimace.
“I was asked to inform you that the workers have broken into the storehouse and are helping themselves, my Lord.”
“By Hesh’s bountiful buds!” The man cried, drawing the attention all around him. “The reserves!”
Osran slipped into the crowd as the commotion increased in volume, quickly scaling the trellis to the balcony. Quietly, he approached the shuttered windows, sure to watch his step.
He reached out his hand to peel the shutters back when suddenly, they began to open of their own accord. Osran threw himself against the wall behind him. The wood of the shutter came dangerously close to hitting him, surely giving away his presence to whoever was now looking outwards.
Moments passed as Osran struggled to control his breathing before the shutters closed once more. Letting out a sigh of relief, he returned to the task at hand, opening the shutters as much as he dared to peer inside.
The form of Pedrik shouted back into the building, “It’s just the locals causing a ruckus.” as he retreated down the stairs to the ground floor. Osran waited momentarily before slipping inside.
The room he entered was as ill-kept as the building’s exterior. Cupboards and surfaces, though expensive-looking, were laden with dust. The floor clearly showed the recent passage of the man.
Osran gently tested the floorboards with his foot, seeking out treacherous squeaks and squeals that would announce his presence. Slowly, he made his way to the stairs.
Peering down to the first floor, Osran could see the warm glow of a lantern falling against the plain white wall of the room. A shadow paced along the surface as the voice Pedrik spoke once more, “You’ve done well, Skerret. The Duke will be pleased.”
Osran, moving down the wooden staircase as quietly as he dared, heard Skerret’s now-familiar laugh “But of course. Anything for my Lord. Though I do hope he recalls our agreement regarding financial compensation.”
“You’ll get your money,” the guardsman scoffed, clearly finding the request distasteful. “once we have the girl in our possession.”
“Very good, very good,” Skerret said brightly. “I’m sure my men have the matter under control.”
Pedrik snorted derisively “I certainly hope they do. Torana has proved quite the nuisance thus far, and the Duke grows weary of the expense.”
Osran gripped the wood of the banister tightly, stifling his gasp. He knew Skerret couldn’t be trusted. Plans wheeled around his head. He needed to get to Tor’.
He fought to control his haste, reversing up the stairs with excruciating slowness. Reaching the landing, he turned, trying to trace his way back through the dust to the window, his breathing growing heavier in his panic.
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Closer, he edged until his nerves got the better of him. Increasing his pace, he tripped, catching the edge of a rug with his foot. The stumble was brief but significant. His other foot slammed to the floor as he corrected himself.
Immediately he heard an exclamation from downstairs followed by the sound of boots on wood approaching rapidly. Osran dived for the shutters, throwing them open with the great clatter.
Reaching the trellis, he began to climb down as a head thrust itself out of the window, looking about before locking steely eyes with Osran.
“Stop!” Pedrik called as Osran let go and dropped the remaining distance to the street below.
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Torana fought to keep her breathing under control. The healing and growth magic had strained her. She knew she didn’t have the capacity left for anything complex without the energy affecting her adversely.
She had been following the second of her assailants for some minutes now. Following behind at a short distance, she took some grim pleasure in their obliviousness.
A quick tap into Light had allowed her to change the hue of her cloak from a rich blue to a deep grey, helping her blend in with the shadows.
The woman in front of her picked carefully through the undergrowth, one hand on her bow, the other on the hilt of her sword. After a few moments, another figure approached through the gloom.
Torana crouched, keeping still as the two hailed each other. “Any sign of her?” the newcomer asked.
“None,” the woman replied. “Nothing from Keer either.”
Her partner grunted. “I saw lights flash near where she landed. No sign of either of them when I got there.”
“Skerret won’t be pleased.” The pair had turned and were now walking further away from the road once more.
“There are worse things than Skerret,” Torana resumed following, trying to stay in earshot. “We’ll do another sweep before we head back. The girl could give herself away doing something flashy again.”
“What’s worse than not getting paid?” the woman asked.
Her companion glanced at her “Word is, the money’s coming from someone else.”
“Who?”
“Word is, it’s some Southern Duke. Garon or something. Supposedly the girl’s his daughter.”
Torana froze.
The woman whistled in surprise. “Must want her back badly to go to all this trouble.”
“Enough to pick her up in person if what I’ve heard is true.”
“Wait,” the woman stopped, Torana tensed, preparing to attune herself to the Rhoki. “Why would Skerret tell us to shoot at her if her Da wants her back?”
“He knew she could take it,” her partner shrugged. “or didn’t mind if she came back slightly damaged. Come on, we’d better get a move on.” The pair picked up their pace and strode off into the night.
Torana stood, turning over what she had learned in her head. Skerret had betrayed her and to her father of all people.
She flushed with anger. She was running out of people she could trust. A thought struck her. Os‘. If Skerret found him by himself, he could be in danger. Worse still if her father did.
Torana assessed the situation. She needed to return to town fast. Clenching her fists in frustration, she took a deep breath. Nishtae, give me strength.
She focused, attuning Lightning, and shaping the power into her legs. Synapses fired faster and faster as she began to run, her legs pumping with incredible speed. Grimacing with effort, robes whipping around her, Torana reached the road and raced towards town.
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Osran ran through the streets, the light from the oil lamps shedding a greasy yellow light on the cobbles. He headed North towards the Hook, desperate to reach Torana and warn her of her father’s arrival.
Close behind, he could hear the crowd expressing their displeasure once more as his pursuer closed in on him. The further he ran, the more he realised the benefit of the training Torana put herself through each day. His lungs burned, and his thighs ached, but he pushed onwards.
Reaching the bridge to the Hook, he risked a glance behind him. Pedrik was closer than he thought, only a few steps away from him. The realisation caused Osran to misstep, tripping over his own feet as he clattered to the ground.
He rolled briefly before coming to a crumpled, groaning heap. The man who had been chasing him stopped, breathing heavily. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, he pulled Osran partway off the ground.
“Osran Melgrave. I had a feeling I’d run into you once we’d cornered the Duke’s daughter.”
“Leave her alone, Pedrik,” Osran growled. “She’s done nothing to deserve this.”
“That’s not how the Duke sees it, and I am sworn to obey. As were you, if I recall correctly.”
Pedrik let go with his right hand and punched Osran in his stomach, knocking the breath from him. Osran fell limp and was promptly dropped to the floor where he curled around his pain. “I imagine she’ll be all the easier to trap if we have her little friend as bait.”
Osran wheezed a laugh “You don’t know Tor’.”
Pedrik sneered, pulling back his leg to strike once more when Osran heard the small sound of breaking glass. The blow never came.
Osran looked up to see Pedrik covered in some sort of oily fluid. “What in the Lacuna is this?” he tried to brush the viscous liquid from his sleeve, sniffing what was on his fingertips. His eyes went wide “Is this Ignium?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, it is, Pedrik,” Osran contorted himself at the sound of Torana’s voice. He saw her standing a few paces away, looking pale in the light of the lamps.
She was breathing heavily, and even from here, Osran could see she looked gaunt and strained. She had passed her threshold, he thought. Drawn too deeply of the Rhoki.
“Tor’,” He called out as best he could, still feeling the effects of his beating.
“Quiet, Osran,” Torana hissed. “Step away, Pedrik.” She held up an arm, her fingers pointed towards him.
“You look tired, Lady Harrow,” Pedrik did not move from beside Osran, but gave a predatory grin. “Surely you cannot afford to spend more energy.”
“I’ve enough to light you up, Pedrik. Step away.” Torana produced a spark of flame at the end of her fingers.
“But surely you wouldn’t –” Pedrik was cut off by the flash of flame rapidly approaching him. He dived to one side to avoid it.
“The next one won’t miss,” Torana threatened. “Go. Tell my father. By the time you’ve reached him, I’ll be gone. If he doesn’t stop coming for me I’ll have to take more direct action against him.
Pedrik grimaced but rose to his feet once more. With one final glance at Osran, he turned and hurried back into town, leaving the pair alone. Once he was out of sight, Osran looked to Torana, who met his eyes and smiled briefly before collapsing to the ground.