“You there,” Rogers called out to an old man with bald head and greying beard who was tending to a young boy nursing an arm in a sling. “What lies behind there, there, and there?” Rogers pointed to the three rows of houses that surrounded the cul de sac. There was no hope of defeating the Knight Protectors, and fleeing was their only option. They had defended the Pit against Merchant Guild guards, but Knight Protectors on horses were a different matter. They would retreat to fight another day.

“The Circle, the Pit Wall, and Sally’s Lane.”

“The Pit Wall? What is that?” Rogers knew the other two locations. The Circle was the road that ran along the Wall. That would be deadly. Sally’s Lane was obviously some old road that ran through the Flats. While it would provide some safety, it was undoubtedly broad enough to offer little protection.

“It is the stone wall that blocks the west side of the Pit from the rest of the Flats.” The old man shrugged. It runs along the houses but doesn’t make for a proper wall, as it ends at the Circle and Sally’s.” Rogers nodded. He was hoping for some unknown path or little known alley that they could run through before fleeing into the anonymity of the Flats. A wall was exactly what he didn’t need.

Looking up the road and past the pile of dead bodies, Rogers came to the grim conclusion that everyone around him was about to face a similar fate. It was his dumb luck that he had chosen to help those at the Pit make a last stand. It was the one place where the Thieves had no real influence or knowledge. The sewers, safe houses—the rest of the Flats had resources he could use. But the Pit? No one cared about the Pit, including the Thieves.

Shaking his head at Maela and her predecessor’s inattention to this important part of the Flats, Rogers muttered, “You would expect a place called the Pit to have more secrets.”

As he was about to put together a plan to split into groups and escape via the Circle and Sally’s Lane, the older man spoke up. “We have our secrets.”

Rogers walked right up to him. “We need to escape. Is there a secret tunnel, a path, an alley—” Rogers waved his arms around. “A place to hide. Anything. We are facing an insurmountable force. Retreat is our only option.”

The old man nodded. “Death’s Sewer.”

“Death’s Sewer? What is that?” Sewers ran all under Ness, but the places where you could actually enter were well hidden. Rogers assumed that this was one of those entrances, but why call it Death’s Sewer?

“It is a sewer tunnel—a natural one—that leads under the wall to Executioner’s Hollow. The boys go down there to watch the Knights execute thieves, although we discourage it. Still—” The man shrugged. “They’re thieves.”

Rogers knew better than to take issue with the man’s attitude. The Thieves Guild was secret out of necessity, and the fact that they were the ones defending the Harvest Guild members who snuck out to enjoy the execution of Thieves was just part of the deal.

Every Thief knew of Executioner’s Hollow. Rogers was not one of those who would go on rescue missions, but he knew of the secret path there. It was a noxious sewage tunnel that ended North of the Hollow at the base of the Wall. The iridescent mixture of clotted shit and piss landed in a brown pool that seemed to seep into the ground. The Knights avoided it at all costs, and even the Knights guarding the Wall walked past the pool briskly.

Wait, Rogers thought, the sewer the Thieves used was an artificial one, not a natural one. Could there be a second path to the Hollow?

“This sewer? Does it carry waste? How close to the Hollow does it exit the Wall?”

“No, it carries a stream of water. It is a natural cavern, not even a sewer. We just call it that.”

“Quickly. Where does it end?”

“Behind the Hollow there is a pit where the Knights toss the bodies of the dead Thieves. It ends there. The boys climb a ledge up from the pit. You can imagine why the Knights don’t investigate there.”

Rogers nodded. A pit full of decomposing bodies and skeletons. No wonder it was still secret and no wonder it was called Death’s Sewer. “We must gather everyone to make the trip through Death’s Sewer. It is our only hope. We will exit the sewer and make our way through the Plains to the North and get to the safety of the Outer Fields.”

The entrance to the sewer was through a caved in portion of the Pit Wall behind one of the houses at the end of the cul de sac. Running around and gathering healthy men and women, Rogers spread the word that everyone would need to escape that way.

His goal was to get everyone into the tunnel and then somehow block it from the inside. The Knight and Merchant Guild members would search the Pit and find it empty. It would be if everyone had just disappeared. The trouble was that there were so many people injured that family members wouldn’t leave them behind.

“He cannot walk. You must trust that the Knights will show him mercy and provide him with care.” Rogers comment led to incredulous stares. Everyone knew that the injured would simply be slaughtered. With no other option, Rogers simply denied the possibility. “We will free him from prison when the time comes,” he added.

Most the citizens had left for the sewer, but there were still many others that were lacking in the urgency to leave for one reason or another. Some were looking for some hidden family heirloom to take, others stayed with injured relatives, while some simply refused to leave and swore they would defend their homes to the death.

As he went to a group of men who were carrying and assisting injured friends a shout filled the air. “A knight approaches!”

Rogers cursed. So many would die needlessly. He understood the desire to assist friends and family, but it was foolish. And now the first of the Knights was approaching. “How many?” Rogers shouted to the young girl that ran up to his group.

“It is but one,” she replied, but her response was unnecessary, as the Knight had already turned into the lane and was in clear view.

He was large and imposing, yet there was something odd about him. “He is guildless?” the girl asked.

“No,” Rogers replied. “He is a Ranger.” Rogers unsheathed his sword. “He is the first of many. You all must flee and quickly. Please, do not delay. I will take care of him and then be behind you.”

The appearance of a real threat—and one that looked imposing and frightening—spurred the remainder of the citizens of the Pit to flee. The injured were left in remote rooms to wait for their chance to beg for mercy.

Without waiting for a response, Rogers strode forward. The Ranger took long steps, almost jogging forward. He was in a hurry but refused to allow himself to run, which would sacrifice some of his awareness and responsiveness for speed. He is a formidable one, this Ranger, Rogers thought.

As he prepared to clash with the Ranger, multiple realizations hit Rogers at once: The Ranger had not unsheathed his sword; he looked familiar, even though his face was covered with a brown cloak; and he wasn’t just tall, he was huge. In fact, he reminded Rogers of—

“Alard!”

“Rogers!” Rogers sheathed his sword grasped the Deputy Guildmaster’s hand with a firm shake as he looked him up and down. “A Ranger?”

Alard shrugged. “We have not the time to discuss my journey or mission. Do you have a force? Thirty-eight Knights approach, with four on horseback. They are clearing the houses one-by-one, but we do not have much time.” Before Rogers could reply, Alard nodded at the pile of bodies. “This will put them on guard. How much surprise will you need? Perhaps we should attack first?”

“Alard, they are fleeing. Look around you. Yes, there are plenty of blue dead, but there are many more green soaked in red. They fight with broomsticks and pitchforks. Two dozen Knight Protectors and cavalry will leave none alive.”

Alard’s eyes looked odd, as if he had some fire within that had been missing for a long time. He closed his eyes as if knowing that he was revealing something he did not want to be known. Finally, he nodded and opened his eyes again.

“Do you have an escape?”

“Yes. There is a natural sewer than leads to Executioner’s Hollow. You should follow me. You can help lead them to safety in the Outer Fields.”

“That is a wise plan, but I will never enter Executioner’s Hollow.” As if assuming Rogers didn’t understand the depth of his commitment, Alard repeated. “Never.” Before Rogers could say anything else, Alard continued, “I will buy you time. Gather as many as you can.”

“How will you buy us time?”

Alard reached over his shoulder and slid his mammoth broadsword out of its sheath across his back. The sword was the most enormous weapon Rogers had ever seen. “That is not your concern.” The tone of Alard’s voice made it clear that he was in charge, and there was no more room for conversation.

“Be safe, Deputy Guildmaster,” Rogers said as he turned and returned to a group limping toward the Pit Wall behind the houses. With one last glance, he looked over his shoulder.

Alard stood like a statue in front of the pile of dead, facing the end of the lane where the Knights would approach. He appeared like nothing more than Death, preparing to add more trophies to the growing pile behind him. Rogers shuddered, not sure whether he should worry about Alard or feel sorry for the approaching Knights.