Chương 18: Chapter 19: Escape

Shit. There are already people running through the entire lower level, not to mention the courtyard outside. I shouldn't have stayed to watch the aftereffects. Something about Jeshia just caught me off guard. I didn't expect him to be so… relatable. The reverberations through the wood and stone of the building tell me everything I need to know. More than I would have known two weeks ago. Since the darts I use disintegrate on impact, they won't be able to extrapolate my precise location when I let the dart fly.

If they even find the entry wound at all with the swelling that should be bloating the body about now. At least, I doubt anyone will remember he grabbed at his neck. I left when the scene erupted into chaos. I wish I had time to stop in his office. The will to do so is almost overbearing. It has to be here. I want his information on the Blood Sect. Another night when they're not scouring for an assassin will have to do.

Footsteps have reached the level I'm on now, obviously realizing that killing from above was the best option. I wish I'd poisoned his drink instead. But that wouldn't have completed the contract as requested. Just like when I entered the town hall, I race into the end room, asking the stone beneath me to soften my footfalls. I'm not sure it works, and I'm usually light on my feet anyway. Leveraging myself up through one of the ceiling gaps, I pull it closed behind me.

Slowing my breathing down, I inch my way across the beams, touching them with my hands, trying to get a feel.

"... outside. They'll be leaving…"

"... units to the perimeter!" I let out a long breath, surprised at how fast my heart is beating. These things don't usually work me up like this. But then again, I don't often have to sit there and listen to my target speak before I kill them. Each movement I make is calculated to synchronize with the loudest sounds I can hear. I crawl along the beams and through the stone gaps, working my way back toward my initial entrance point up high.

While I doubt anyone will get up there, let alone find the entrance, I am certain there are so many patrols active now that I can't get out of the city. Damn it. I'm not even sure leaving as soon as I fired the dart would have helped. There's too much commotion all around me. I need a way out. Looks like it's time to get comfortable in the almost pitch-black ceiling space, precariously balanced on a beam nestled as far into the shadows as I can go. The luxurious life of an assassin.

Time ticks by so slowly, it's strange to think that mere minutes have passed. At least this time I have something I can pass the time with. Making sure I keep that ever present flow of power traveling in and out of my body. It brings me a calm meditation never could. With the added bonus: awareness of my surroundings. Perhaps it's the feel, the texture of the life around me. Even the rocks next to me, the wooden beams reinforcing the structure—they all possess a quality of sensation.

Wood is more pliable, more willing to come to aid and assist. Perhaps because it's more flexible. Rock and stone on the other hand? They conduct information, and voices…

"We need to get into the ceiling and check those avenues." Speaking of voices, that one wasn't conveyed through the rocks, but from a room below me.

"Done, sir." The first must be the captain of the watch, or captain of the guard. But it doesn't matter who it is. Because I'm stuck here, and they're going to find me. There's a certainty in my chest that just knows they'll discover me if I don't move. Noise from beneath compounds as more people rush into the offices beneath me, getting closer to where I got into the ceiling. And I know for a fact there must be other access points. I'm not about to give up without trying.

This sort of death—that's a nice public execution. Damn my way with poisons. Manipulating shadows isn't one of my skills. Yet. Or ever. Instead, I traverse the beams as fast as I can toward the other end, stopping in the middle toward the back with surprise. What I thought were support beams is not. There, right in front of me, is a shaft. Or, at least, the top of it. Breaking it open will be noisy, unless I can figure out how to ask the wood to bend for me?

"Up in the rafters yet, man?" The captain's voice is back, full of irritation.

"Almost, sir. The spaces are small, but Officer Marin is on her way. She can get up there."

"Good." There's a pause before the captain speaks again.

"We're not tearing the ceiling up unless we find something. Ryan might want this solved, but he'll give me hell if the hall takes too much damage with no results." There's a little bit of pressure off me, but not much. I funnel power into the wood, asking it to open up, but not to break. There's a slight tug at me, at my own power, but I'm ready for it. Control is essential. Don't let the eagerness of the power unground me.

Keeping my breathing steady, I watch as the side opens up and I step precariously into the dumbwaiter, relieved to see it's not on this level. The wood closes behind me, tumbling me into pitch darkness as I leverage my legs to keep me steady. I never excelled at rope climbing, and this is grimy. There's no life in the steel cable that the waiter runs on, nothing I can talk to. But being careful, I can leverage the sides of the wooden shaft. My thighs will hate me tomorrow.

Shimmying down the shaft, touching the wood, lends me a trickle of energy. Which is good, because just asking it to do the small task of opening drained enough that I could feel it. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The muscles in my shoulders and thighs scream as I leverage myself down the dumbwaiter shaft. But I don't have a choice. I can hear the guard all around me and hope that they've already checked this shaft.

If I'd been looking for me, it would have been the first place I inspected. Down three stories, I remember the kitchen is in the basement. I hope to the gods they cleared out the kitchen staff, or this will get really awkward. We're only supposed to kill for contracts, or for self-defense. Unsanctioned kills are frowned upon. And I have no desire to kill a bunch of innocent bystanders. The food delivery elevator sits at the bottom, abandoned.

I can see the lights from the kitchen coming up through the still-open door, and I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to exit the shaft. I pause, placing my hand on the wood. But it gives me nothing. I need the stones to convey information to me, or perhaps a live tree. There's a part of me that knows I could just crouch here and be done with it. Wait until the searches have died down. Hope no one checks this shaft again. But the other part of me needs to get out of the hotspot.

Breathing gently, I place my hand against the side of the wooden shaft again. It's warm but not hot. Very gently, I ask it to open just enough to let me squeeze out before it closes again. Again, it saps at my energy. I steel myself against the draw, concentrating on how it feels. If I hadn't had to shimmy down the shaft, I don't think I'd be as tired as I already am. The drop down to the floor of the kitchen is farther than I'd anticipated.

I make it with a dull ache in my knees only to find myself face to face with the fireplace down here. Turning slowly, now in contact with stone, I can hear whispers of activity. But nothing too close to me. I need that. My energy levels have taken a hit from using magic. I need to pace myself. There's still a long way to go until I'm in the clear. I finally swivel around and scout out the one escape route I know I can use. My shoulders are screaming at me, and my thighs are practically numb.

I can rest up my muscles tomorrow. For now, getting out of here without facing my own execution has to be the priority. The kitchen is massive, and from what I can see, also empty. The stone counters are scattered with food prep obviously abandoned when the meeting was cut short. Next to the fireplace I exited is a large stove that feeds into the firepit. Pots still sit atop it, a couple of them overboiling and leaving behind an acrid burning smell. Not my problem.

I allow myself to breathe evenly for several moments. Now, I just need to find the back area and slip into the catacombs underneath the city. I prefer that name over sewers. The ones under Korrien are complex anyway. Just because it doesn't look like anyone is around in the kitchen doesn't mean I can let my guard down. Spreading out my awareness with a touch to the stone each time I graze my fingers over it, I can keep an eye on anyone following me.

Or perhaps a random person coming out of the storage room I'm headed to that I wasn't expecting. Nothing about the state of the kitchen made me expect anyone in the storage room right now. I squash myself up against the wall between one of the stoves and the stones next to it. Breathing. Always important. Never rushed. Remember to breathe. The way the light falls in this room leaves the corner I'm hiding in naturally shrouded.

I pull my mask up further, covering my skin completely, and hold myself alert, just in case.

"I bet they're already gone." That voice sounds fed up with the search already. The second set of footsteps laughs briefly.

"Of course they are. You don't pull something like that and stick around."

"Waste of time. I should be at home with the family."

"Oh, isn't it Sharra's birthday today?"

"Yeah. She's eleven."

"It's all good. Report to the captain that there's nothing in the storage room except food, and we should be good to go soon."

"Yeah. Maybe you're right." I can hear it in the man's voice, though. He knows they're in for a long night. This time, I tap into the stone again and seek out other voices. They're all so far away that I can't get more than snippets. At least this time the passage should be clear. It wouldn't make sense for the stone to withhold information from me. I pause for a couple of seconds. It should be safe enough to move.

Slipping out of my cramped corner, I shimmy around until I'm in the corridor to the storage room, which is down another level of stairs. It's always felt cooler this far down. Some of that is the stone reinforced by the water we're so close to. This water funnels through from the basin that the waterfalls above create. All the way through to the ocean below the cliffs. I wonder what old magic keeps the walls from gaining mold. There's still a dampness to the air, but it doesn't dull my hunger.

I grab a sliver of jerky as I walk to the back of the storeroom, hoping against hope that they haven't covered up the one escape I'm counting on. There, just behind the last of the shelving units, rising up from the ground, is the exact arch I was looking for. A stone arch with a drop through to the catacomb waterways underneath the city. Hand against the rock, I cringe. It's going to be about a six-foot drop for me even once I'm dangling down. If I can fit through the damned hole in the first place, that is.

It was the singular field trip we took as young Novices. Two-blade Novices the lot of us. Learn the Korrien catacombs. That was it. If you're going to be a part of the underbelly of a society, it's best to know how to navigate it. That was Lareny's whole spiel. Time for me to shimmy. I slide myself onto my stomach, reaching for the stone with my hands. It answers, a tinge of warmth passing through it, as I grip on for dear life. My shoulders protest even more than they did in the shaft.

After all, this time it's all I have to grip on with. The water rushes through the channels below me—a loud, hungry sound, and the rocks are more slippery than I anticipated. Keeping my legs as still as I can, I count to three and drop myself. It feels like an eternity that I hang there in the air before dropping down onto the stone beneath me. It's wet and slimy, and I have to duck into a roll so I don't go flying. There's a crunch as I do, and I think I just broke my goggles.

Still, I land on my backside and take a moment to gather my breath. Light filters through from the street above, moonlight dancing in lines that shine with pinpoint. Now I just need to get out of here and make it back to the forest. Leveraging myself to stand, I can feel fatigue washing over me. Even with the practice, constant usage of my gift takes it out of me. Especially given that I still don't know what I'm doing. Not really, anyway.

It's difficult to get my footing solidly, and I wish I'd worn the heavier jacket now that I'm being sprayed with a fine mist of water. The rocks have nothing to tell me. Where I am right now is filled with an odd joy of "water is eroding us." Who would have thought stone had such a jumpy attention span? Closing my eyes, I get my bearings. We aren't too far from one of the paths that should take me closer to the waterfalls. I set out to follow it, only to realize I slightly tweaked my ankle when I dropped down.

At least my pipe and the small pouch of vials I took with me is safe. I'm not sure why I feel so uneasy. Nothing I ask of the elements around me is getting me information I can use. The paths down here are roundabout, with small bridges spanning some of the wider sections. But the narrower areas require a well-timed jump, or else a strong swimming stroke. One wrong estimation, and I could get swept through these tunnels and out into the ocean. No pressure at all.

My recollection of the underground passages is about as good as I can expect. While I might have a precise memory, this wasn't something my fifteen-year-old self paid much mind to. After putting a bit of distance between myself and the entry I dropped down from, I hold my hand up to the rock wall and ask it for guidance. Some hefty coaxing later, a map of rocky paths appears in my mind. Roughly, anyway. Finding the way out from down here will be trickier than I remember.

There are all sorts of entries into the maze of the catacombs, and the passages themselves wind as if specifically designed for people to get lost in. A good strategy by whoever built this. I frown, searching for my way out, and heave a sigh of relief when I find it. On the image in my head anyway. Now I just need to translate that into physical locations. All I have to navigate by is the faint light that seeps in here from above. Through the street drains that send their refuse down here.

My night vision glasses broke when I fell. While my eyes have become accustomed to the atmosphere, it's still a cloying dimness that sticks to me. It's taking far too much time for my liking to navigate myself a way out, but I have to be cautious. Being alone down here, where the grip is treacherous at best, no one will come to my aid if I get injured or swept away. But if the map I'm following is correct, I'm almost there. That's when I hear it.

Not the running of the water through the sluices and into the catacombs, nor the rushing of water right where I am. But instead, it's a faint sound, but getting closer. Dogs. I hear barking. There is howling. And it's coming directly from the path of my escape.