When Heroes Die

“Strategy? What about it? There’s no need to worry yourself about strategy if your opponent is as confused as you are.”

— Dread Emperor Irritant I, the Oddly Successful

I couldn’t tell which was worse, the cold stone slab beneath my ass or the autumn noonday sun’s relentless glare. At least I’d decided that the persistent itching under my shirt came at a distant third. My clothes grew tighter with each passing day, and the contents of my wardrobe remained one of the rebellion’s lowest priorities. I tugged at the fabric, hating how it clung tighter to my chest. I’d complained about it a few times, but even after another month in Summerholm nothing had come of it.

Abigail fussed with the hem of her yellow dress on the opposite side of the table for a few moments, before her right hand darted forward and placed one of her stones.

“You’re going to tear that,” I mocked.

Her left leg knocked against one of my own. She pulled it back quickly and almost jumped out of her seat. I smiled a little, then shifted over, keeping them sprawled comfortably. That was the third time I’d managed to elicit that reaction from her so far.

“Better than hearing from another of my uncles about fulfilling my obligations to the family again,” she muttered.

Sighing, I reached towards one of the black stones and placed it on the thirteen by thirteen board on the stone table before me. I was half tempted to pick up pieces from the Shatranj box and start placing them on the Baduk board. I’d tried that once, but Mabli had rapped my knuckles and told me that playing this game was about learning to think, and not about seeing who won.

She always had trite commentary like that.

The Reluctant Strategist didn’t often have time to teach me anything, then when she did she insisted I learn a whole host of useless skills that I’d likely never need again. Like how to dance, or the different traditions of the Callowan noble houses, or different languages, or wasteland politics, or the knightly codes of chivalry. She’d even had me play cards with soldiers for a while, insisting that it was a good way to learn how to lie. It was a rare day when she’d take me aside and talk to me about strategy, but she left all the useful lessons to everyone else.

Like brawling with the Stalwart Defender, or even horseback riding. It had taken me a while to become used to the feeling of a horse under my hips and I still wasn’t comfortable with it, but better that than more time spent learning about courtly intrigue.

Abigail bit her lip. Her hand hovered above the board, darting back and forth like some kind of viper, before she at last settled on her choice. She seized a stone and placed it between a cluster of my pieces.

“You can’t do that. It’s against the rules,” I pointed to my pieces.

The cautious girl shook her head. Her dark hair fell like shadows across her shoulders. She reached forward and pointed to the surrounding pieces.

“See here, here, and here,” she spoke timidly while pointing to the pieces in question, “that piece completed the encirclement.”

The smile slid from my face, replaced by a stormy scowl. I crossed my arms then looked closer. She was right.

A glance at the board told me she had already won.

Again.

“How’d you pull that off?”

“I listened when Mabli was talking to you about strategy.”

Ever the graceful loser, I picked up another ten stones and arranged them all at once on the board. Mabli might give me a glower of disapproval, but she wasn’t here to scold me.

“I won,” I declared.

My opponent glared at the board.

“Which rule did you win with this time?” she asked.

She’d tried arguing with me about stunts like this the first few times I’d pulled them before giving it up as a lost cause. Smart girl, Abigail.

“It’s the Catherine manoeuvre,” I replied.

The distant slamming of a door brought an end to our conversation. I stiffened. The harsh clatter of boots on stone followed. Whoever it was that had entered wasn’t trusted with Mabli on their own.

“Somebody’s here to talk with Mabli,” I whispered.

“Can’t we just play another round?” she pleaded.

“Course not.”

Abigail sighed, before brushing her hair off her sunburned cheeks and rising to her feet. I did the same. Both of us padded silently towards the door.

“You’re going to land us in a heap of trouble.”

“Nah, I won’t. Mabli wants me to do this.”

“I don’t think you’re reading her right.”

“How else am I supposed to interpret what she does?”

It had taken me a while to realize that the Reluctant Strategist favoured me when I defied her orders. Well, she rewarded me a few days after I’d disobeyed her, provided that I wasn’t caught. When I was caught… she punished me by assigning me duties with Edric.

Realizing that had lit a fire under me, and now I went out of my way to slip around her orders whenever I could. Every opportunity to eavesdrop was a chance to win a prize. She always caught me in my lies, forcing me to choose my words with care. Then she’d start asking questions. It didn’t matter how I answered, somehow she’d always know the truth.

“As an excuse to run away from all this.”

Both of us quietened down as we reached the closed door of the balcony that led into Mabli’s office. I spun the handle and opened the door a crack. The muffled sounds of conversation reached both of our ears.

“— humble servant brings word from the High Lady of Wolof, Tasia Sahelian.”

If I recalled Mabli’s lessons correctly, then Wolof was one of the High Seats of Praes. The Lords and Ladies who schemed and connived against the Empress for the throne. I glowered. They were supposed to be even worse than the Empress. The only advantage was that they were stuck in Praes unlike the Legions.

I wasn’t sure why the man was speaking in the noble dialect. The Reluctant Strategist wasn’t a lord or lady, so he was just wasting air.

“What does Wolof want?” Mabli responded in a clipped, neutral tone.

That tone alone painted a picture for me. It was deceptive. The first time I’d heard it, I’d thought that she was in a good mood. Five men were hanged the second time I heard it. I could almost see her standing with her hands behind her back, her face an impassive mask. I’d bet that her eyes were as sharp as a dagger’s edge, glaring holes into the person she spoke with.

“This diplomatic convoy consisted of three envoys, but circumstances conspired so that two of its number were waylaid by two Legion patrols near the Blessed Isles. The Legion patrols had yet to capture the envoys by the time of my departure, but there is no telling what has occurred in the intervening days. The tool that was intended to be used for communications between parties remains in the possession of the lost envoys.”

“What does Wolof want?” Mabli repeated, louder this time.

“High Lady Tasia Sahelian is aware of the economic burden the rebellion suffers under and proposes that a mutually beneficial agreement can be arranged that would help ameliorate their hardships.”

“Why does she want to fund us?”

“The current state of affairs within Praes runs against the interests of Wolof.”

That was a circumspect way of saying that the Sahelians were making a bid for the Tower.

“What terms does she offer?”

“This envoy is not authorized to negotiate on the behalf of High Lady Tesia Sahelian,” the man replied.

Mabli fell silent.

“I’d need to rescue the rest of the convoy if I wanted to speak to her.”

“That is indeed the nature of this quandary.”

“And this is only an invitation to speak, nothing more?”

“There would be no consequences — save for a loss of opportunity — should the Reluctant Strategist choose not to entreat with Wolof any further.”

There was another pause.

“I won’t relieve them,” Mabli stated. “I can’t be seen openly colluding with Wolof. It would break the rebellion. If somebody else relieved them, then maybe we could talk.”

“This humble servant understands.”

A few more meaningless pleasantries were exchanged, but thoughts drifted like they used to on the streets when I smelled a loaf of fresh bread. I understood the implied message. Mabli was giving me permission to do this. She wanted me to rescue emissaries from the Legions and guide them back to Summerholm.

A part of me wanted to ignore this opportunity. They were just another enemy faction. One that was even worse than the current Dread Empress. However, I stopped and thought it over further. My first instinct could be wrong. Everything’s falling apart, and it’s all the Faithful Warrior’s fault. That was enough to convince me that Mabli’s caution was warranted.

Why should I consider this? Different Praesi factions fighting with each other could only benefit us. It was better for them to bleed each other than for them to bleed us. This was only an invitation to speak with them. We wouldn’t be agreeing to anything by accepting it. There was always the chance to stab them the moment demons or devils were brought up.

There was also the hidden monster breathing down all of our necks. It was hard to miss how the size of our portions dwindled after each week that passed, or how less than half of our recruits were properly armoured.

I turned to Abigail.

Her watery blue eyes were so wide that for a moment I thought they were about to fall out.

“It’s a terrible idea,” she hissed, while we walked back to the table.

“I didn’t say anything,” I defended.

My heart pounded like my fists once had against a locked butchery door. I almost vibrated in anticipation. This was my chance. I was being trusted with something important. This was my opportunity to do something.

“You didn’t need to. You get this crafty look in your eye that promises mischief, then next thing we’re caught, and I’m washing boots again,” she narrowed her eyes.

Time passed like drops of frozen honey in an hourglass while I waited for “time tutored by the Reluctant Strategist” to end. We were dismissed a few hours later. I darted to my room, opened the rucksack sprawled to one side of my bedding, and quirked my lips triumphantly.

Abigail’s shoulder’s sagged.

“See,” I hissed.

The satchel was packed full of provisions. Not only food, but tools. Provisions that I hadn’t filled it with. Two daggers were also set aside and after examining the room further I found an aketon that was about my size. This was as good as an invitation as I would ever receive to stage a rescue mission.

“Why do I have to be friends with the stupid rich girl who wants to be a hero?” she muttered under her breath. I scowled. I wasn’t rich! Perhaps she thought that I couldn’t hear her, but I’d get her back for saying as much. “Why couldn’t it be anyone else? But no, my da says that if I’m her friend, then maybe one day I can help pull up the family. Maybe I should just run away?”

“So you agree then?” my lips twitched.

“I, er, yes, of course,” she stammered, before her eyes narrowed. “Wait, what did I just agree to?”

“Good. Come along then,” I beamed.

“Cat, what did I just agree to?” she pleaded.

“You’re going to help me escape the city.”

“It’s almost dusk.”

“So?”

“Curfew is in a few hours.”

“That just means we need to move faster then.”

“Are you completely daft?” she challenged.

“What’s the worst that could happen? You fall behind and they catch you? Nah, they’ll catch me first. I’ll even let you have a head start while we run.”

“Well, we could get caught, killed, or worse… I mean, that’s a joke, right?”

“Why would it be?”

“Do you even know where the Blessed Isles are?”

I pulled up a map from inside the pouch and waved it at her.

“What’s that?” she grabbed the map out of my hands and pointed at something.

I paused for a moment and leaned over her shoulder. It was a map of the Fields of Streges. There was a cross marked across a tavern a short distance outside the walls of Summerholm along the road to the Blessed Isles.

“I’ll keep my eyes open when I’m there,” I shrugged.

Abigail continued to make noise.

I listened with one ear to her complaints as I changed clothes and took stock of what I’d been given. It wasn’t long before we made our way down the carpeted stairwell and out the palace door. Nobody spared me a second glance.

We passed through the inner city walls without any complications. Abigail’s home was in the outer city, and both of us had been given permission to move between districts. I think the guards at the inner gate raised a ruckus about having to check that after the tenth visit. By now they knew us on sight. We were halfway towards the outer city walls when the first problem reared its ugly head. I knew from previous experiences that those guards both knew my identity and had been told to keep me in.

“I’m not climbing those,” I declared.

“That means I can go home now, and we forget about this, right?” my friend stopped moving from foot to foot, and her right hand fell away from her hair.

“No, it means we stop and think.”

The two of us came to a stop at an intersection beneath one of the watchtowers. Abigail kept wringing her hands together and twitching from side to side. Climbing the wall wasn’t on the table. Until I’d killed my own damned fear, there was no way that I wouldn’t be seen.

“What if you set fire to something near the gates to distract the guards?”

I was certain that she knew of a better way out of the city than me. Unfortunately, there’s no way she’d volunteer the without a proper incentive. She was far too cautious to help me unless the alternative was worse. So I’d need to persuade her, which… should be possible with the right kind of push.

“No, no, no,” her voice rose with every word.

“If we time it when somebody else is passing through, then I just need to dash fast enough.”

“This is… this is a bad idea.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’ll work,” I grinned.

“There’s so many better way’s to do this. Think about what will happen if we get caught.”

“Like what?”

“Why can’t you just ask the guards?”

“Then they’d know that I want out,” I explained.

“They’d have been warned to let you through?” she tried.

“Don’t be stupid. Sneaking out is a part of this.”

“Aren’t you nervous?” she hunched in on herself.

“Quivering in my boots.”

“Shouldn’t we take a moment to stop and plan?” Abigail began to fidget with her hair.

I started to walk towards one of the nearby buildings.

“The Reluctant Strategist is having the sewer wards replaced,” she blurted out.

There. I hid my smile as I turned back to her.

“What?”

“Weren’t you listening two days ago?” she inquired, “she doesn’t trust that the Warlock didn’t sabotage them in some way.”

It went without saying that parts of the sewers extended beyond the city walls. In normal circumstances the sewers would be sealed off tight, patrolled and warded against incursions, but if the wards were being examined then there might be an opening.

“Where’s the nearest sewer maintenance shaft?”

“I’m not a map,” she flinched as the words left her mouth.

“Come on,” I reached up and awkwardly slung my arm over her shoulder, “surely you have some idea?”

“Can’t we just forget about this, she pleaded, then flushed. “We could watch the boys during their morning drills tomorrow instead.”

I prodded her again.

“There’s one near the stables,” the words crawled out of her mouth.

Abigail wilted.

I smiled and walked towards the stables. There were no buildings near the walls — it apparently wasn’t secure — but the stables were as close as it got.

A group of voices took up a song in the distance.

“Twenty-three princes sit in a room

In walks a saint and it spells their doom

Twenty-two princes cower in fear

The blade came out, and their end draws near-”

“Where’s the entrance?” I asked.

My friend pointed towards an otherwise unnoticeable building set in the shadow of the stables. It was guarded by two soldiers who were both seated on rickety stools. The gate was certainly locked, but I could deal with that. My eyes flicked back to the five soldiers drinking and rolling dice on the floor outside the stables. I’d have guessed they were relieved from duty if not for their uniforms. A single glance at how sloppy they were dressed was enough to tell me they would be in deep water if their superior caught them.

“-Twenty-one princes run for the door

The first head hits the assembly floor

Twenty princes rail against fate

Best nod their heads before it is too late-”

Now, what next? I needed to find a distraction, and whatever the distraction was needed to be believable. I looked at the stable, then at the sewer entrance, then at the stable, then at the sewer entrance again. The pack bit into my shoulders. I grimaced and shifted its weight a little.

“-Nineteen princes don’t adapt to the times

At least they’ll live on in nursery rhymes

Fifteen princes are put to the sword

Those that remain will reach an accord-”

Abigail sneezed. My eyes fell on her. She shrunk in on herself. Yes, that would work.

“I need you to upset the horses.”

“How would I even do that?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “sneak into their stalls, cut them all loose then throw some stones around?”

“Do you even know how much trouble that will get me into?”

“Come on, Abigail,” I frowned, “I’ll do it myself and claim you were a part of it if you don’t help.”

She glared balefully at me.

“I’ll put in a good word for you with Mabli if you help?” I tried.

“And I won’t have to follow you out of the city?”

“You’re welcome to leave me out cold,” I agreed.

Abigail firmed her shoulders. I could almost see her mustering her courage.

“Fine, but I want you to promise me something,” she declared.

“What’s that?” I grinned.

“You’re not allowed to save me when I land in trouble.”

I didn’t like that. Friends shouldn’t leave other friends behind.

“But-”

“I’m not about to let my efforts go to waste,” she glared at me.

“I don’t want to betray you.”

She folded her arms and didn’t say another word.

She wasn’t going to get in trouble, right?

“Okay, I agree.”

Abigail gave me a resolute nod, then slunk off.

“-Four princes choose not to attend

The smartest path to avoid their end

One prince sits on more than one throne

And never before has she felt so alone.”

The next couple of hundred heartbeats passed at a snail’s pace. Abigail passed beneath the shadow of a watchtower, then strolled briskly right beneath the noses of the guards into the stables. They didn’t even look up from their game of dice. My shoulders were tense. I rolled my muscles and breathed in. She wouldn’t fail. I wasn’t nervous. Everything would hold, like bread before it crumbled.

“Wonder what it’ll take to convince that lass to leave the Principate and put the heads in our house in order,” one of the guards muttered.

“More than we have, Steve,” another replied.

“There’s a pity. I heard that she’s got no tolerance for names that don’t play by her rules.”

Several small pebbles smack against each of the guard’s helmets. They let out an exclamation of surprise, before charging into the stables. A moment later and there was a loud crack. Over a dozen horses bolted out of the stables. A guard took a hoof to the back. I winced, then pushed the feeling aside. The priests could heal him, and he probably deserved it for something. One of the horses charged past the sewer entrance. Most of the guards went charging after them.

Abigail ran in the opposite direction, her yellow dress torn and flapping behind her. She let out a distressed wail, drawing more attention to herself. My eyebrows rose in appreciation. It was an impressive act. One that I couldn’t have succeeded at. It was an act, right? It had to be.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine.

Of course she was fine. She had to be fine. I promised that I wouldn’t abandon the plan. I shuddered.

Don’t think about your friend maybe being hurt Cat, it’s time to move now.

The last of the guards ran towards her.

Should I call this off here? I wasn’t sure if she would find her way out of trouble on her own. My gut churned. Leaving her felt wrong, but… I’d promised her. I’d said that I’d follow through. Should I go against my word? This all felt like a horrible mistake. My palms were sweaty. I bit my lips.

The Reluctant Strategist also wanted me to do this, although I wasn’t certain if it was worth following through. This was a mission to rescue Praesi. Praesi! And these were supposed to be even worse than the ones that I was familiar with. Shouldn’t I just abandon the mission and take care of my friend?

No, I’d committed to this. Mabli gave away a month of her life whenever she was asked to. If she was prepared to go so far for the rebellion, then how could I hesitate at something this small?

Hating the turmoil within my chest, I leaned forward and approached the stable at a brisk stroll. The heat of the sun diminished. I passed beneath the lip of its roof. There was one guard remaining. He was busy running up and down within the building. I wasn’t sure what he was searching for. I dismissed him from my thoughts. He didn’t look my way regardless. I reached the sewer entrance, then glanced towards the stools.

The guard had dropped the key beside his chair before he’d run off. It was a pity that he was unaware of how close it was to slipping out of his reach. A pity for him, that is.

That made everything easier.

The gate rattled as I fought with the keys. It wasn’t long before it opened. The noise still worried me. I swore under my breath and chanced a look around. My shoulders sagged. Nobody was looking my way. I started to descend the stairs. The cool, damp air was a relief from the sun. Then the stench assaulted my nostrils, thick, cloying, like rancid meat. The passage opened up onto a wide canal of filth that cut a gap about ten feet across, nestled between two paths on either side of it. I pinched my nose and stuck to the left side, coming to a stop at an intersection.

The surface wall was to my left.

I peered down the passage. The tunnel opened out to a fortified grate that appeared to be sealed by wards. I took the small bridge across to the other side of the intersection and began to move deeper into the passage. I reached the next exit point only a few moments later. This one was sealed as well.

A burning anger coiled tight in my chest.

A sound echoed out in the distance. I froze. Did I just imagine it? No, there it was again. Where could I hide? I glanced around. There was a crack in the wall above me. Loose bricks had fallen onto the path and soil spilled through. The gap wasn’t large, but it was large enough for me to fit in. I peered inside. There was a dip and enough space for me to hide away. It should be deep enough for me to remain obscured. Well, so long as nobody stuck their head in to look.

The hollow would have to do.

I gripped the edges, then heaved myself up and hid in a broken alcove. The glimmer of torchlight on the walls came next. Then the sound of their boots. It was a patrol. My mouth clammed shut. I could feel the drip of sweat down the back of my neck as the patrol approached.

“You heard about what’s happening in Laure?” the voice of one of the guards echoes across the filth.

“Complete chaos,” a woman spat. “People struggling to find food. They say that every other day, there’s a new hero or villain showing up and breaking something else.”

I could feel each moment that passed as they drew closer.

Should I run? No, that’d give me away for sure. I was tired. They were certain to possess more stamina than me. Better to remain hidden and hope that they don’t look in the alcove. I crouched lower, then gagged at the reek. Even this hole in the wall was filthy.

“Marchford is still under the Empire,” the man replied.

“It’s more orderly there as well. Think it’s better under the Praesi boot than these rebel factions?”

Storm clouds gathered above my head, but I remained silent. How dare they! We were doing our best. It wasn’t our fault that the Faithful Warrior was making a mess of everything. Summerholm hardly had any of those kinds of problems. They couldn’t blame us if the rest of Callow was falling apart.

Both of them continued to approach. They paused outside my hiding place. A torch was raised. I felt the heat of flames close in on me.

Don’t say anything, Catherine.

“It was better before. They kept a tighter lid on the chaos. It’s too bad we’d be put to the sword if we tried to desert.”

“These heroes are worse than the villains they replaced,” the woman grumbled. “Have you heard about how many farms have been burned down?”

“It’s not all bad. The Reluctant Strategist has been against it.”

“But she never actually does anything.”

“Tells you how bad these new heroes are. Just think. Heroes used to be people we looked up to. Now, the best we can hope for is one who doesn’t send everything to the hells.”

The heat of the torch withdrew. Both voices started to fade away. I let out a sigh of relief, then waited another quarter-hour before dragging myself out of the hole. I dusted myself off before proceeding deeper and deeper into the tunnels. From there I alternated between heading further towards the centre of the city and then moving further away.

Each turn felt tighter, each shadow heavier.

Always remaining alert, always keeping an ear open. Searching for guards before rounding a corner. Hiding whenever I saw the flickering of a torch or heard the muted echo of a voice. Diverting their attention when stealth failed. I’d amassed a small collection of rocks in the process. I wasn’t sure how long it took before I made any progress. By then, I was so lost that I wasn’t sure how to find my way back into the city.

All of that would have been acceptable, except by then my hair was matted against the back of my head, and I was more filth than Catherine. I’m sure there are piles of manure that were less odious than I was.

It took time for me to absorb the shape of where I was. I started to develop a sense of how the sewers were organized. It was like a silent voice at the back of my mind, whispering to me which way I should head. Progress sped up, but my eyes began to droop.

I peered around a corner and somehow missed the dull flicker of torches in my fatigue. Three more steps forward, and I came face to face with a patrol. I stared. They stared back. Then, the moment was broken. The woman in the lead opened her mouth.

“Halt, kid, and come with us!” she shouted.

Would the pebbles I was carrying help me out of this?… No, they wouldn’t.

I whirled and dashed. The floor was slick beneath my feet, but the heavy thumping of boots behind me was enough to spur me on.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The boots on the ground resonated with the rhythm of the thunder in my chest. Grimy water splashed all over me. My arms swung from side to side. The guards let out another cry. I turned a passage, only to come face to face with another patrol. I swung around. A hand fell on my arm. I ducked and rolled across one of the bridges. Shit smeared itself across my face. It was hard not to gag. I didn’t have time to wipe it off.

I scrambled to my feet, keeping my hands closed firmly around the pebbles in my palms. It was an awkward mess. I let out another heaving gasp as I darted through another grab.

Where to now? No time to think.

I started running along the passage in the direction the first patrol had come from. My heart hammered, heavy and hard in my chest. This time I was on the opposite side of the canal. They shouted. There was a ringing echo as somebody drew their sword. Another group came jogging down a third path.

No, no, no.

One of them slipped and fell into the river of filth. Another pivot. More guards. My eyes darted to the other side of the canal. Could I make the jump? I looked to my left, then my right. The guards were spacing themselves out so that there was no way for me to pass.

“Give up and come with us, kid!” one of them bellowed. “We have you surrounded!”

I’d have to try. It wasn’t like I had a good alternative.

“Only by half!” I shouted back.

My gut slammed into the bilge as I threw myself across the gulf. Yes! I landed with a heavy thud on the other side, only to slip and slide. No, no, no, don’t fall.

I slammed into the grimy wall on the far end.

Dazed, I shook myself off. No time to recover my senses. I pivoted, then sprinted.

Another patrol.

Couldn’t they just leave me alone?

I spun again. There was a hiss as a torch sizzled out in the water somewhere to my right.

My sense of the dark passage ahead had long since shifted. It was no longer a reprieve from the sun, but instead was like the constricting throat of some great beast, gradually swallowing me whole. Another turn. This time it was a dead end. Perhaps Abigail was right. Maybe I was too reckless.

Out.

I needed a way out.

I was hopelessly lost and counting on good fortune to carry me past the guards. That, or I’d come face to face with Mabli again. Being caught for something like this… I couldn’t even guess how much trouble I’d be in. So many duties with Edric. So, so many duties.

Panting, I rounded another corner. I came face to face with an open grate leading out into the tent city beyond the Summerholm’s walls. My heart leaped like a starved animal lunging for food. Yes! This was my chance to escape.

There was a small group standing a few paces short of the exit. They were busy examining the slimy grate, which had been removed and set on the ground beside them. I guessed they were the group responsible for either sewer maintenance or replacing the wards.

Two of them were already facing my way.

I shoved away my exhaustion and ambled my way towards them. There were who knows how many groups behind me. I didn’t have time to consider what I would do. How could I run past them without being captured and make it out of the city walls? I considered the pebbles in my palms, then the people replacing the grate.

Hit them hard enough on the head and it should knock them out, right?

One of them let out a cry and the rest of them turned to face me.

I was tired, and hungry, and frustrated and just wanted out. I drew back my arm, swung and released.

The pebble flew through the air. My stomach dropped as it veered off course and missed the person I was aiming at. I was about to throw a second pebble when it collided with one of the bricks, rebounded, then struck another on the opposing side of the tunnel.

There was an almighty crack, then part of the wall started to collapse.

This was a bit more than you were aiming for, Cat.

I rushed down the passage. Another rock fell. I didn’t slow down at all. I doubted I’d have another opportunity like this any time soon, and I could feel the breath of the guards on my tail. One of the workers let out a yelp as it smashed into him and knocked him into the water. I ducked a falling piece of debris.

One of the wizards spat out a rapid chant.

Bang!

A shockwave of air reverberated outwards, sending debris away from where he stood. The gale slammed into the guards and sent them sprawling to the ground. I was thrown closer towards my goal. The remaining pebbles fell out of my palm. The debris struck the loose wall once again. More rubble began to fall.

There was another shout.

One of the men saw me. Their eyes widened. I wove between them, only to be struck by an elbow in the back and sent sprawling to the floor. I rolled. More debris fell. I risked a glance backwards, only to see another rock take the wizard in the head. I scrambled to my feet and darted out of the tunnels.

The cool evening air struck me. I swallowed as I rushed away from the sewer exit at the base of the walls and towards the relative safety of the tents set just over a hundred feet away. The flicker of torchlight called to me. Both the men working at the grate and the guards called out, but none lent them their ears. A few people held up their nose as I disappeared into the crowd.

My shoulders loosened as I finally slowed from a run to a walk.

I was out. I was out. A part of me couldn’t believe that I had made it out.

Summerholm loomed behind me.

I glanced once more back at the walls of the city. My grin faded. I hoped that Abigail wasn’t in trouble. No, she was definitely in trouble. I hoped that the trouble wasn’t too big and that she would forgive me afterwards. I didn’t like leaving her like that, even though she’d told me to.

The guards were probably injured, but they deserved what they got for the trouble they gave me.

I raised my hands and grimaced at the filth.

Perhaps… it was time to clean myself. A short detour, before starting out my journey towards the Blessed Isles.