Daughter of Treason Ch. 07

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Pursuing the guard.
18.3k words
4.81
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Part 7 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 06/14/2010
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Kei wiped the blood from her dagger with a dead man's coat. A myriad of corpses lay in the hall behind her, but fewer than she would have liked. She had been halfway through her silent rampage when a man had grabbed a curtain in his death throws. Though tearing it down did nothing to heal the wound in his neck, it did expose her, bloody dagger in hand, to a man who was just finishing up his turn with one of the captives. The girls' screams had gone unnoticed hitherto, but the man's scream of terror spurred the others into action. Unfortunately, that action was to run.

She'd been able to chase down and slash the Achilles tendons of a few of them, then went back to finish them at her leisure. After the cries of the wounded ceased one by one, she found a guard among the corpses. After looting a ring of keys from his belt, she cleaned her blade on his coat and returned to her task of removing every chain she found from its bearer.

This girl was older, perhaps in her mid-teens, and was mercifully silent. That was good; all the screaming had begun to give her a headache, and having the person she was trying to free be quiet was a small blessing. "Sit still," Kei whispered. She set her dagger down and began trying to fit one of the keys into the lock. She was so distracted trying to figure out which key would fit that she didn't notice the waif pick up her dagger. With a sudden, jerky movement he made a wild stab at the Fractorian. Kei caught the flash of movement thrusting towards her thigh. She brought up her forearm and deflected it just in time, locking both the girl's hand and Kei's dagger into an iron grip.

"Fool!" hissed Kei, "I'm trying to help you!"

The girl struggled reflexively at first, then let her grip go slack. Gradually, Kei followed suit until she could twist the blade away from the girl and set it down well out of reach; she didn't trust the girl not to go for it again if she could. She resumed work on the lock, keeping a wary eye on the fair, lanky girl, and after a few more moments of fumbling, found the right key.

The lock clicked open. Kei quickly snatched up her dagger before the waif made a mistake again. Angry, she did not offer a place to stay. Instead, she said only, "You are free. Go."

The girl hesitated just a moment before scrambling to her feet and bolting for the door. Kei merely thought, good riddance and went back to freeing the others. It was only four girls later that she glanced up and noticed the stab-happy waif had returned, and was peeking out from behind the curtain. "What?" asked Kei irritably.

"Guards are coming."

Kei cursed. There were at least another six more to be freed, and now that she stopped to listen, she could faintly hear the clinking of chainmail through the open door. There wasn't nearly enough time to get the rest, but she'd be damned if she just left them. Making a snap decision, she tossed the keys to the waif, saying only, "Get the rest. I'll stall them as long as I can."

The girl caught them, looking stunned, but Kei hadn't the time to observe her reaction in detail; she yanked her rapier free and strode down the center of the hall towards the wide-open double doors. As she noted the armed guards approaching cautiously, led by a man in a polished silver-blue breastplate, she did a quick inventory of her weapons: daggers in each boot, one on her hip, one under her arm, and the naked rapier in her hand. Comparing that with the dozen short swords and watchful eyes approaching, she only did the most rudimentary calculation before reaching the obvious conclusion; fighting would not give good odds.

Changing tactics, she pushed the door shut and planted the sword tip on the cobblestones, in plain view, and stood still, though her mind yet raced. An impassive stance would buy some time while they attempted to negotiate, but they surely would not let her leave without a fight. Moreover, she could not speak for fear of giving away her gender; not the end of the world, but it would dramatically narrow any search made for her. On the other hand, if she ran, the guards would doubtless try to reapprehend the girls inside. That was unacceptable. So she stood her ground, thinking.

She was still trying to decide what to do when they surrounded her.

The suspicious muttering of the group stopped when the breastplate-clad man, apparently their leader, raised his free hand in greeting. "Hey." His smile seemed so easy, but his eyes held steel behind them. When she didn't respond, and didn't stand out of the way, he tried again. "We heard there was a bit of a ruckus here. Do you know anything about that?" Again, no response; so long as she kept silent, they would have very little to identify her by once she fled. Turning to two of his men who seemed substantially more on edge than their leader, he said, "Tanner, Graeves, go around back. Tully, Greene, just go around him, and check out the-"

Her reaction, in retrospect, was not the best one. They were planning to go around her and surely would capture the girls. That was unacceptable. Her knee-jerk reaction bought time, alright, but she would have to pay for it; she brought her rapier, lightning-fast, up to his neck.

"-Woah, hey, or not." When she didn't lower her sword, he tried again. "How about you tell us what you want, huh?"

When she maintained her silence, a woman he had called Tanner said, "We can take him, sir."

"I've no doubt you can," he said reasonably, "but I'm not sure if I can cast a healing spell on myself if I've got a sword through my neck, so let's play it cool for now, eh?"

That last bit was clearly directed at her. She took in his eyes and noticed something. He's not afraid. This was a new experience for her; even Shino had been a touch frightened of her when they had met, though his gratitude had outweighed his fear. But this man had a sword to his throat, and his eyes held only a compassionate curiosity.

She took a better look at him; he was short, but seemed to be well-built. Calloused hands and toned muscles spoke to plenty of labor, or perhaps weapon drills. His skin was the same golden-brown as hers, implying at least partial if not full Fractorian parentage. His skin was liberally decorated with scars, more on the right arm than the left, implying both that he typically used a shield and that he had faced mortal combat several times before. Yet his face had kindness beneath his angular features, and his crooked nose, doubtless broken once too often, seemed merely to accent the smile lines around his mouth and eyes. Despite an apparent history of armed conflict, Kei got the feeling that every time he had to raise his sword, it was only after he did everything he could to talk first.

Her sword tip wavered, and then dropped back to its place on the cobbles. Tanner lunged, but was caught by the leader, who held her back with an arm. "I said wait!" he barked, and then looked back with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that," he said, then looked down and whistled appreciatively; Kei's sword had flicked out, silently and quickly, to stand between her and Tanner; had the overzealous guard not been restrained, she likely would have impaled herself.

"Sorry about that." His words were contrite, but his eyes watched the sword like a hawk. Kind, but no fool, she thought. Slowly, she lowered it to her side again, but kept it easy to snap back up again.

"Sir, we can take him!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake, Tanner! Listen: hear that?"

She looked confused. "No...?"

"Exactly. The party's over. They've been tipped off. And yet..." he motioned to Kei, "this guy is standing here in a cloak and hood, guarding something, and not budging an inch. And I'd like to know why."

Again, the last bit was directed at her. She met his gaze, but again declined to respond. "Alright then," he said, trying something different, "My name's Dorren. What's yours?" He paused, hoping for some words in return. When none came, he stopped trying to get her to speak altogether.

"Look, I'm in a bit of an awkward position, here. My men and I need to get in, duty-bound to, in fact, but you're standing in our way. I get the feeling," he said experimentally, "that you're not doing so out of greed or fear." He paused, waiting, and for the first time, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. His face lit up in a smile for a moment before a frown overtook it again.

"That's a problem," he said. "See, if it was greed or fear that kept you here, I could scare or bribe you away, both relatively bloodless prospects. As-is, it seems that my only two options are to negotiate, or force my way. I've got plenty of time to negotiate, but if you won't talk, that kind of narrows it down." A pause. "Can you talk?" Slowly, she nodded. That, at least, wouldn't give her away while she bought time for the girls back inside. "Will you?" She shook her head. He sighed. "Well then, I'm afraid I'm out of options, then. Tanner-"

The sword flicked up to his throat again, and though he paused, he didn't flinch. Calmly, he said, "Think about this. You won't negotiate, so we have to force our way. You're surrounded and outnumbered.In about thirty seconds, we're going to walk through those doors, around or over you. What do you think your death will accomplish?"

Her mind raced, calculating odds and tallying the seconds. Just before she acted, she thought, I hope the stab-happy bitch works fast.

As she lowered and sheathed her sword and stepped back, Dorren looked pleasantly surprised. "Well I'll be," he murmured, stroking his neck where the sword had dawn the faintest trickle of blood, "that almost never works. Usually," he said, smiling at Kei, "they're too stupid or afraid, and we have to put them down. I'm glad," he beamed, "that you're making the smart choice."

She nodded once respectfully, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Huh. Well, Tully, take the team and check out the guardhouse. Tanner, keep an eye on our friend," he said, motioning to Kei, "I want to talk to him once we're done here-"

As Tanner was reaching for her, Kei panicked. She grabbed Tanner's hand, spun her around, and pressed the dagger she didn't even remember drawing into her new captive's neck. The guards froze in the middle of opening the door, Tanner went rigid, and Kei looked just as surprised as Dorren.

The wind picked up slightly, ruffling her cloak while the door creaked open. Every eye was glued upon the two women and the dagger against one's neck; all was silent.

"Easy." That was Tanner. "Easy, man. It's okay. Dorren's a good man; he'll treat you fairly. It's okay."

Dorren's eyes held anger now, terrible fury kept carefully in check. Damn damn damn. They want to interrogate me. Have to run, have to run. At least Tanner hadn't felt her breasts, bound though they were, or else was too distracted by steel to much notice flesh. That was good; if she could get away, they'd have no idea who to look for. The guards all had chain mail which, while good protection in a fight, would slow them down enough for her to easily outpace them. But Dorren... she eyed his breastplate, and noted how the blue tinge was not decorative.

Mythril, she despaired. Strong as steel but not much heavier than her cloak, he would have a good shot at catching her.

"Listen to Tanner," said Dorren carefully. "You don't have to do this. I only want to talk. You haven't done anything wrong yet. But if you cut Tanner, you won't have done anything but piss me off; I'll just heal her, and I swear to you, I will hunt you down." She could feel in his anger that this was not a threat; this was a full-blooded oath. "But," he said, with visible effort, "If you let her go, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I won't detain you." He took a deep breath and looked in her eyes. "Choose carefully."

She met his gaze. The tension in the jaw, the suppressed scowl that came out at the corner of his mouth, the clenched fist all made it clear that he didn't like it, but the raised eyebrows, beseeching eyes, open posture made her believe that he actually would let her go. She briefly wondered why, but pushed that thought away for later; he seemed genuine now, and that was enough. She relaxed and was about to take the dagger away and walk when she made a tiny but critical mistake; she looked somewhere she shouldn't have.

As the wind pushed the door open even more, her eyes flicked towards it and the bodies therein. Moreover, Dorren's gaze followed hers, and they locked eyes again, both with a panicked look. Now he knew she had killed, or at the very least been complicit in it, and could not let her go. Moreover, by his look, he could tell that she knew it, too; she was cornered and they both knew exactly what that meant.

Just before she moved, a number of thoughts flashed through her mind, justification after justification. I have no choice. She's probably corrupt. I have to stall him; he'll heal her anyway. But in the end, what came out as a whisper in Tanner's ear was a simple, "I'm sorry."

Dorren neither saw nor heard any of this, but he saw in her eyes the same look one sees in a wounded animal about to do something desperate. He didn't even have time to bring his sword up from its place at his side, only enough time to shout, "No, don't-!"

Kei's knife moved, Tanner fell, and the masked woman spun and ran.

As Kei had predicted, the air was instantly filled with the sound of footsteps, shouting, and clanking armor. A brief glow lit the buildings around her, a product, no doubt, of Dorren's healing spell, and then all was rushing wind and stretching pavement. As the clank of armor faded, she risked a glance back to find the Dorren still in hot pursuit.

Shit! Turning into a dark alley, she hoped to lose him in the shadows, but never got enough of a lead to try it without him running her down. Worse yet, he was gaining. All right, she thought grimly, Let's see how you like climbing.

She turned abruptly down an alley and was pleased to find it a dead end with a few crates stacked near the end. Not nearly enough to climb out of reach on but more than enough to convert the forward momentum of her sprint to the upward momentum of a jump. This is going to be close.

She planted, she jumped, she soared, and for a moment, her head was above the far roof. As her flight continued, gravity pulled her back down. For just an instant, she thought she'd fallen short, but then her outstretched hands found purchase on a roof tile. Her downward momentum yanked one hand free, but the other held firm; she'd made it. Yes!

Swinging her other hand up, she was just about to pull herself up when a tug pulled her back down. She strained to keep her grip and glanced down; Dorren had jumped after her, and though he'd fallen drastically short of the roof, he had been the requisite three feet off the ground to grab her pants leg, and he wasn't letting go.

She started trying to kick him off, wanting to be gone before one of his men arrived. She was almost free; kick him off, and she'd lose him easily. She was in the middle of thinking how futile his attempt to stop her was when she heard the tile crack.

Her eyes widened, and she looked down; he had heard it too, and knew exactly what it meant. Grinning, he hauled himself up her leg just a few inches, but it was enough; when he let himself drop, that extra bit of force jarred the roof tile free entirely, and both bodies fell to the ground in a heap.

Dorren cushioned her fall, but he didn't have far to go, and didn't stay down for long. She scrambled to her feet just in time for him to ram into her gut. They went down, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes, with Dorren on top of her. Without so much as a beat of pause, he started swinging, and it was all she could do to block the blows to her face. In an effort to buy some time to breathe, she brought her foot up between his legs, and found herself impaling it on a mythril spike on the cup of the armor, designed to prevent just such a maneuver.

She cried out, and he used the opening to land several heavy blows on her face, her cloth mask providing no protection. After a blow to the temple, her arm flung out limply, but she felt something hard. Grabbing it and bringing it up against the side of his head, the remainder of the tile shattered against his temple, an eye for an eye.

As he went tumbling off, she rolled with him. Yanking a boot dagger free, she brought it up to his neck and-

-paused.

She breathed a ragged gasp; she'd almost cut his throat without thinking about it. She reminded herself that he'd given her several chances, and that he seemed like a good man. He beat my face. He chased me down, he got in my way, he-

"This is it, then? You're going to cut my throat like you did Tanner's?"

He's brave.

"Well go ahead. It won't save you. I'll find you, I'll come back and find you." And he's bluffing. His wide eyes, rapid breathing, open palms all conveyed fear, something not consistent with a return from death. And yet, none of the usual tells were there.

She smiled. I like this one. Reaching up, she checked her mask; it was still there. Good. I don't have to kill him. As her foot tinged, she briefly considered killing him anyway, but dismissed it as petty. Drawing another dagger, she brought the pommel in on his temple, and while he was dazed, flipped him over and bludgeoned the base of the skull, stunning him. And if it was done a bit more brutally than strictly necessary, well that was just a little bit of payback.

She turned to rise, but cried out and fell back to her knees as the pain lanced through her stabbed foot. She paused a moment, breathing heavily, and heard the clink of armor, and a voice saying, "It sounded like it came from over here."

Gritting her teeth, she thought, this is going to suck.

She did her best to keep her weight off her injured foot, but even the job of keeping it off the ground used wounded muscles, though fewer than the alternatives. As the voices grew nearer, she propelled herself just a few meters, hissing her pain the whole time. Finally, she reached the shadow cast by the short buildings forming the alley. As much as she might like to be elsewhere, now her best chance was to stay quiet and hidden.

Her choice was looking more appealing by the second; two guards rounded the corner, swords out, as Dorren was coming to his senses. "Sir!" they came over and knelt beside him as he sat up, groaning. "Are you alright?"

He touched his neck absently, and Kei could just make out, "...didn't kill me." The voice was numb, confused.

"Which way did he go?"

Dorren looked over to the shadows where Kei was hidden. "Anywhere." As clarity returned, he glanced up and down the alley. "He might've slipped past you; he has the clothes for it. Might still be running away from us. Or might be on the rooftops right now, watching us."

The two guards eyed the roof line warily. "You really think he could be? And why would he?"

Dorren laughed. "Crazy bastard tried before. I pulled him down once, but wasn't in any shape to do so a second time. And why?" He paused, touching his neck thoughtfully. "That," he said carefully, "is a question I think we'll be asking a lot with this one."

<<<<<Malefactum malefactoribus beneficiumque bonis face>>>> >

By the time she finished looping back around, the guards were already setting up a cordon around the entrance to the guard house. Her foot hurt, she was still a touch dizzy, and fatigue was only mounting with each step, but a simple thought drove her on. I want my grappling hook back.