Authors: Todd Shryock
Chapter 9
The way back to the Pink Lady was a trip
through carnage and chaos. There were random bodies lying in the street. Some
houses had been sacked, doors kicked open and windows broken, while those
around them were untouched. There was little sign of fighting, as apparently
both sides had had enough blood for one day and retreated back to their
strongholds to regroup.
That didn’t mean that there still wasn’t
danger about. Quinton dodged several patrols of men. He wasn’t sure whose side
they were on but figured it was best not to chance it. By the time he worked
his way through every alley and empty rooftop he could find, it was nearly
dark, but the Pink Lady was now just across the street.
It was oddly quiet. There were no men
going in and out like there should have been, and the sounds of partying and
drinking were silent. Had everyone been killed? His heart raced. The brothel
was just outside the main gate and was owned by the guild. Had Wren’s men
started their day of murder there?
Quinton abandoned any remaining caution
as he feared for Kate and made a dash for the side door. It was slightly ajar
and he burst in, desperate to find her alive.
A few girls who were sitting along the
wall whimpered and curled up in a ball away from him, expecting the worst. The
place inside was nearly destroyed. Furniture was smashed, painting and tapestries
slashed and chairs overturned. There were a few traumatized girls staring
blankly, wondering what to do next. That’s when Quinton saw the pale flesh of
dead girls near the front door. He pushed his way through the mess to see who
it was.
The sight nearly made him gag. The girls,
both fairly young, had been tortured and slashed open in various places. The
wooden floorboards were stained a dark red, and there were bits of flesh and
organs all over the floor. He couldn’t recognize either of the girls, but
neither had red hair. He looked to the side where one of the wide-eyed girls
sat.
“Where is Kate?” he asked softly. At
first the girl didn’t respond, then her eyes slowly crawled up his leg and onto
his body until she locked eyes with him. He didn’t know what horror she had
witnessed, but that stare told him she would never be the same. It reminded him
of the stare Teli had after Red eye took him.
“Kate?” she said in response, her mind
combing through possibilities. She looked away as she processed the request.
“Kate.” She pointed to one of the small side rooms.
Quinton pushed aside the half-open door
and startled four more girls, one of whom was Kate. She looked like she hadn’t
slept in weeks, and her clothes, what little of them she wore, were splatted
with blood.
She looked up at him and half smiled.
“Hey, maggot,” she said, her attempt to humor failing as she started to sob.
Quinton walked over to her and put his
arm around her. She embraced him and cried. After she settled down a bit, he asked,
“What happened?”
She pulled away and looked to the floor
as she relived the story. “It was terrible. The men came, the soldiers, first
thing in the morning. They wanted information and started breaking things and
tearing the place up. We told them what we knew, which wasn’t much, but they
wanted more. So then they started slapping us around and beating us up,
threatening to kill all of us. They wanted to know where all the safehouses
were. They wanted to know where Fist would run and what he would do. A few of
the girls knew where a safehouse was, because sometimes guild members got drunk
and talked too much. That was a mistake. They thought it would make the
soldiers stop, but it just made them think we were holding out more
information. So then they picked two girls,” her eyes went to the doorway to
the horror that lay beyond, “and they started torturing them in front of us.
They start with small cuts, and then,” her voice trailed off and she started
sobbing again.
“It’s okay now. We’re getting out of
here. I won’t leave you.”
Kate stared into the distance and stopped
crying. “They killed those girls even though we didn’t know anything else.
Eventually, they gave up and left. We’ve been sitting here ever since, afraid
to move.” She looked up at him. The wind was starting to howl again outside and
a light rain began to slap against the building.
“The city is in chaos. There is fighting
everywhere. The prince rides again, looking for vengeance. His father will turn
the city upside down until he finds Fist and takes control of the entire city.
Children are kidnapped, mothers are slain in the streets and you can’t even
tell who is fighting whom. People have lost all hope and are clamoring to be
the first one to die.”
Kate looked at him, tears running down
one cheek. “What do we do?”
“We make our break for it. Do you have
the food?”
She glanced away, then down at the floor.
“I do, but I can’t get it until tonight, when it’s dark.”
“I’ll go with you,” she cut him off
before he could say more.
“No. I must go alone. You would arouse
suspicion.”
Quinton nodded. “There’s something I need
to get before we leave. I’ll get it and meet you back here. We’ll leave at
first light. We can’t risk getting lost in the swamp at night.”
Kate hugged him, a new strength showing
in her eyes. “I knew you were a survivor. I knew you had a plan.”
“My plan is we leave,” he said, smiling
back at her. “I need to go. I promise I’ll come back for you. If something
happens,” she waved her hand and shook her head. She didn’t want to hear the
rest.
He left the room and made his way back to
the side door. The prince’s dagger was hidden under a rock by the river and he
wasn’t about to leave it behind. They would need every weapon they could get in
the wild and it was worth a lot of money. Money they would need to make a new
life somewhere outside the city walls. He glanced both directions down the dark
street, but the wind and rain kept everyone inside that night. He stepped out
into the moonless night and headed for the river.
***
The streets were eerily quiet as the rain
slackened. Deep puddles formed along the gutters and low spots on the streets.
It was as if the world were washing away the blood spilled this day. The wind
howled its disapproval at the slaughter as it battered in to the buildings
around Quinton before moving on. He made his way to the river and found the
rock. He held his breath as he lifted it up. The dagger was still there, its
small jewel-encrusted handle shining in the darkness.
Quinton hid the dagger deep in his shirt
by tying a small leather cord around himself inside his clothes. He wanted to
scout the safest route to the break in the wall. It was the only way out. He
hadn’t gone far when he heard a stern voice come from the darkness between two
buildings on his right.
“Quinton,” called the voice again. He
recognized it as one of the other masters of the guild.
“Who is that?” he said quietly, afraid of
who might be listening.
“It’s Ratso. You must come with me. The
others are waiting.”
Ratso was a wiry man with a face that
resembled his nickname. His nose was long, and he walked quickly. But Quinton
knew his looks had nothing to do with his name. The man knew the sewers of the
city better than any long-tailed swamp rat. Some people said he spent so much time
among the rats that he started to resemble them.
Quinton considered running, but there was
no place to run to, and who knew how many others were watching. He entered the
alley and followed Ratso down to a narrow door. Ratso knocked lightly in a
quick pattern. The door unlocked from the other side and opened a crack.
“Hurry,” said a voice from within.
Quinton looked at Ratso, who was waiting
for him to enter. He walked through the door and it shut behind him, the latch
sliding back into place. Ratso had stayed outside.
Inside the room was a small table covered
in candles. The lights flickered and cast long shadows across the small group
of men who stood huddled around a large central figure. There could be no doubt
who that was. A hand from behind him guided him by the shoulder up to the
group.
“Another survivor,” said the guide.
Fist looked up and seemed disappointed it
was Quinton. “How did you survive?” he asked.
Quinton wasn’t sure if he was referring
to the murder attempt by Lacoris or the chaos in general. He decided to be
vague. “I did what I needed to do.”
Fist nodded and waved him to stand next
to him. “You have a bigger problem.”
Quinton couldn’t think of anything that
could possibly be worse than what had happened today.
The man crossed his muscled arms in front
of him. “Sands has disappeared.”
“Dead?” Quinton asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” said Fist. “My
informants saw him leaving the city during the fighting. He abandoned me, no,
abandoned us, in our hour of need. He has left the guild.” He stared directly
into Quinton’s eyes. Quinton did his best to not look intimidated. He didn’t
think it worked. “Where would he go?”
Did Fist think he knew about Sands escape
plan? “I don’t know.” Fist stared at him for a long while before continuing. “He
never said anything.”
Fist continued to stare but didn’t
respond. Quinton stared back as long as he could, then broke eye contact
without saying anything.
“You never suspected? You never saw him
hoarding anything? He never mentioned leaving to anyone? He never talked about
faraway places?”
Quinton wondered if Fist knew he was
guilty of all those things. Maybe this was what this was really about, getting
him to crack and admit he was leaving. But it wasn’t going to happen. He was
too close. He just had to get away from Fist. “He never said anything. I never
saw him hoard anything. He hardly spoke to me.”
Fist looked off into the darkness as if
pondering something, then continued. “I charge you with finding the renegade
and bringing me his head. After tomorrow’s fight, you will leave and go in
search of Sands. I will give you 30 days. If you have not brought me his head
in 30 days, I will have you killed.” Fist wasn’t threatening, he was just
making a statement of fact and said it as such. He talked about killing people
the way most would state that the weather was bad.
He pulled a flask out from underneath the
table and took a long drink from it. His dark eyes flickered in the candlelight
as he looked from man to man. “Listen up, you dregs.” The men crowded slightly
closer and leaned forward, all of them afraid of being marked for death unless
they appeared to be hanging on his every word. “Tomorrow’s fight is going to be
something special. I have it on good authority that Wren will be sallying forth
from behind the walls to lead the attack.” He took another swig of wine and
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Before heading out on any sort of
official parade or anything else, he always rides down the street where his
eighty-two year old mother lives, and she waves to him from her balcony. The
street is narrow and is on too roundabout of a route for him to lead all his
forces there. He will be escorted, but it won’t be the whole force. He feels
overly safe behind his walls, and we will make him pay for that.”
Some of the men gave uneasy glances to
each other and they leaned back away from him, shifting uneasily.
“What is it, you imbeciles? Someone
speak.”
There was a long pause, then one of the
men finally mustered the courage to talk. “My lord, how do you know for sure
that Wren will be there?”
“Wren is a creature of habit. He will be
there.”
“How will we get inside undetected? The
walls are manned and the guards are on alert. You can hear the cavalry patrols
trotting on the streets beyond, looking for intruders.”
“I have a way.”
“What way?” dared a man from deep in the
shadows. Quinton looked in the direction of the voice, but it was too dark to
see.
“Ratso knows the sewers and has found a
way in.”
“We’re going in through the sewers?” said
one of the men, the disgust obvious in his voice.
“Yes. Once we are there, the fun begins.
I will take out Wren, the rest of you will take out his escort and keep them
out of the way.” Quinton wasn’t relishing the idea of having to fight soldiers,
but Fist quickly relieved him of this duty. “And you,” he said pointing at the
boy, “are responsible for Wren’s mother. You will sneak into her residence.
When she is on the balcony, you will throw her off it to the street below. Wren
will be so distraught, it will give me the opening I need. Once Wren is dead,
the soldiers will rally to my side and the city will be ours.”
Quinton didn’t think anyone really
believed the plan would work, but they feared Fist more than they feared
fighting any soldiers. And most of them were probably already scheming to
disappear at the first sign of defeat. But once again, Fist was ahead of them.
“Did everyone have enough wine?” All the
men smiled and nodded. “Good. Because it has a slow-acting poison in it. I have
an antidote, but I will not tell you where it is until our plan is finished.
Anyone who does not take the antidote within two days will die a slow, painful
death.” The men who Quinton could see had eyes that were wide enough to reflect
the candle flames.
“You don’t trust us?” asked a man.
“No.” Fist didn’t immediately say
anything else, and no one asked any more questions. “All right then, let’s get
moving.”
“Now?” someone asked.
“Now,” Fist answered.
Quinton was startled when he turned
around and found Ratso standing behind him. Where had he come from? The man
seemed excited about going into the sewers. He was the only one.
***
The climb down to the sewers wasn’t too
bad at first. Ratso had led them through the driving wind to an abandoned
building that looked like it had been built before anything else in the city.
It was covered in vines, and where you could see stone, moss carpeted the
surface. Inside the building was an iron door that swung open to reveal a damp
spiral staircase that descended into darkness. The smell that came up was less
than pleasant.