Trouble in the Alley

Flora took a sharp breath as she glanced out through the shutters again. A curse followed. "I think you're right."

"I don't understand. I thought we'd defend this cargo from criminals – why is the city guard here? They would be paid off," Marcus pointed out. "And with inquisitors? How can they know we got mages inside?"

"Good questions to ponder later," the earthmage retorted. "Now, we make our escape."

"What about the cargo? Our payment?" Marcus protested.

Flora sent him a sharp look. "This is a trap. There is no payment. And I'm not letting the inquisitors drag me to a pyre." Resolutely, she crossed the room to hurry down the stairs; the others followed.

"Which way? They must have someone at every route," Martel said, thinking about the shapes in the alley. Both exits would be guarded, he assumed.

Flora's brow furrowed. "We're too exposed on the big street. We'll have to punch our way through, down the alley, and disappear." She looked at the other two. "Marcus, deal with the inquisitors. We handle the guards."

Without further words, Flora unbolted the backdoor and tore it open.

Martel's heart beat faster than a rabbit could run. How could he fight and survive against an inquisitor? Even if he escaped, should they discover his name or just see his face, he would be branded a maleficar. They would hunt him down and strangle him with a golden chain. He pulled his hood down as far as it would go.

Once outside as the last one, he grabbed his staff still leaning against the wall; he had forgotten all about it in his drowsy state earlier. Flora stood likewise armed, and Marcus had his shield and axe.

Down to the right, soldiers appeared. Time was up. They all broke into a run, the Night Knives moving towards the left with legionaries and inquisitors in pursuit.

Martel felt a release of power from Flora, and moments later, a wall of earth rose behind them to block off their pursuers.

That dealt with one threat, but they still had an unknown number of enemies ahead, barring their escape. Reaching out with his magic, Martel felt a tangle of heat some twenty paces ahead, probably more around the corners. Approximately where he felt them, Martel summoned a glow of light, revealing a handful of legionaries.

He felt another tremor from Flora, tearing the earth asunder ahead of them to make their opponents fall down. Yet as the magic coursed forward, a man stepped out in front, and the power died immediately. Martel did not need to see his blue uniform to know they faced an inquisitor, protected from their magic.

Marcus leapt forward, using his shield to bash into the inquisitor and knock him aside. Other tactics worked still.

Guards appeared from the sides, having waited to spring the ambush. Martel blasted air against the nearest, knocking him back into the wall. Another came swinging a sword at him, which the acolyte parried with his staff. Acting on instinct, Martel launched a fire bolt straight at his attacker and watched him buckle over in pain.

One more appeared, and Martel shot a second blast of air. It reached his opponent and dissipated. A second inquisitor. Wielding a sword in one hand, dagger in the other, he attacked. Martel desperately defended himself, trying to think of what he could do. None of his spells would work directly. Perhaps he could raise something up and drop it on the inquisitor, like he had done against Leatherfist, but the zealot's golden protection made it impossible for Martel to reach out around him.

The haft of Marcus’s axe smashed into the inquisitor's head from behind, knocking him to his knees. "Run, boy!" the warrior yelled.

Jumping forward, escaping the oppressive aura of the fallen mage hunter, Martel blasted air against anyone in red uniform. As he ran forward, seeing Marcus with Flora ahead of him, he increased the intensity of his glowing orb still in the air, until it blinded anyone behind him.

Once more, he felt the power release from Flora, raising another wall of earth. She did it so close, it caught Martel on the backfoot, and he stumbled to the ground, luckily, still landing on the right side of the divide. He scraped the skin from his hands, but nothing worse. Picking up his staff, he got back on his feet and continued after the others in frantic flight.

***

They kept running, Martel following the two mercenaries ahead of him with no other thought. Behind, they heard shouts; the labyrinthine structure of the old alleyways made pursuit difficult.

Abruptly, Marcus and Flora came to a halt, and Martel almost crashed into them. "We have to keep running!" he almost yelled, lowering his voice just as he spoke.

"She can't." The declaration came flatly from Marcus.

Walking around them, lighting a tiny flame for light, Martel saw Flora's face was all white. She leaned on Marcus for support.

"Bastard got her with a dagger." He renewed his grip around her, and she groaned in pain. Dark red stained her clothes across the chest. "I don't know how to get her back to our house," the warrior admitted. "We try to cross the main streets, they'll be on us. We have to stay here, hope they miss us."

Martel thought about the city. Marcus was right; they would have to cross half the harbour district and cut through the market just to reach the bridge area. Lots of illuminated streets between them and that destination. Any flight north or east seemed impossible. But not west; the poor neighbourhoods did not have street lighting. "Follow me."

Marcus gave him a scrutinising look, lasting only a moment before Martel dismissed his flame, returning the alley to darkness. The warrior would have to trust him or not; staying in this place was not an option. Turning around, Martel began walking west towards the copper lanes. Behind him, one Night Knife lifted the other one up under her shoulders and followed.