Chương 25: Chapter 24: Hunted

Minutes passed. Rellen's body stayed taut against hers. His hand remained firm over her mouth, but his thumb moved once, barely a brush across her cheek. I'm here. Stay still. Then she saw it. What he'd been waiting for. A shadow moved through her kitchen. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The figure moved without a sound, pausing at her satchel by the door. Fingers worked through the contents quickly, then moved to the shelves—behind books, inside containers. Another shadow appeared.

Two of them now, working through her front room. They moved without light, hands finding their way around furniture and walls as if they'd mapped the space beforehand. The first figure approached the kitchen shelves, checking inside pottery, behind loose stones, anywhere something small could be hidden. The second moved toward her bedroom. Then, one of them turned toward the sofa. The shadow approached slowly. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her breathing to stay even, deep, like sleep.

The figure stopped beside the sofa and stood there. Watching. She could feel their presence, the weight of their gaze on her face. Her pulse thundered so loudly she was certain it could be heard. The shadow leaned closer. Rellen's thumb brushed across her cheek again. His touch steadied her, reminding her to breathe slowly. Whatever he was doing—whatever illusion he'd cast—it was working. The figure couldn't see her freaking out or him behind her. After a long moment, the shadow moved away.

Toward her parents' room. Her sister's room. Anger flared in her chest. Those rooms had been unused for years, but they were still sacred. Still theirs. The shadows had no right to search through her family's belongings, to touch what remained of them. But she stayed quiet, her jaw clenched tight. Rellen's free hand found hers beneath the blanket. His fingers brushed against her wrist, then her palm. The unexpected contact made her tense. His hand on her body, even through the cloth, sent heat through her skin.

But she relaxed quickly, recognizing the intent. His finger traced letters on her palm. C. U. B. E. She understood. He needed to know she still had it. Taking his wrist, she guided it down her side to where the small cloth bag pressed against her ribs. His fingers found the pouch, felt its weight and shape through the fabric. Too late, she remembered. He only knew about one cube, the one he'd given her. Not the second one she'd found in the outpost. She tensed, fear creeping back. What would he think?

What would he do? His hand stilled for just a moment after touching the bag. She felt him register the difference, two objects instead of one. But he didn't pull away, didn't open the pouch. Just confirmed what was there, then slowly withdrew his hand. The shadows were moving again, finished with their search of the bedrooms. Rellen waited until the figures moved deeper into the house, then his hand lifted from her mouth. She drew a careful breath. The arm around her loosened, but he didn't pull away.

They wanted the cube. Had to be. But how did they know she had it? Rion? And who are they? And how had Rellen gotten behind her without them or even her noticing? She'd seen him use illusions before—in the cave, making them seem like part of the stone. Was he doing something similar now? Hiding the real them from view? Showing them something different? The shadows were moving again, finished with their search. But instead of heading towards an exit, they returned to the front room.

They hadn't found what they had come for. And they weren't leaving without it. Both figures approached the sofa. One knelt beside where she lay, while the other positioned itself at her feet. The kneeling figure raised their hands, fingers moving in circle patterns, pressure building in the air. Magic. They were going to use a skill on her. The air grew thick. Whatever they were casting, it was almost complete— A blade erupted from the kneeling figure's mouth with a wet, tearing sound.

The shadow collapsed, gurgling, blood spreading dark across the floor. The second figure spun toward the falling figure, but another blade found their throat before they could cry out. More shadows poured in from the kitchen. She hadn't seen them, so how many had been waiting? Four, five of them now, weapons appearing in their hands. Chaos. Bodies hitting the ground. Steel meeting steel in the darkness. Rellen ripped the blanket away from her and hauled her up in one motion.

Before she could react, he threw her—actually threw her—toward a window. She flew through the now suddenly open window and hit something solid but yielding. Arms caught her, a hand clamped over her mouth. The scent of leather and herbs filled her nostrils as the figure—masked, cloaked—pulled her against their chest and immediately started running. Behind them, the sounds of fighting continued. Steel and death in her once save home.

The masked ally carried her deeper into the maze of alleys, their grip firm but not painful, moving through the twisting paths of the old quarter. Tessa's heart still hammered from the violence, from being thrown through her own window like a sack of grain, but as her pulse settled, rational thought crept back in. This had to be one of Rellen's people. Had to be. He'd orchestrated the whole thing, the rescue, the escape route, even having someone waiting to catch her. Which meant she was safe now. Right?

He'd just saved her life. Protected her from the searchers who had planned to use some kind of skill close to her. Properly nothing good. At least for her. The figure carrying her was smaller than she'd first thought, slender beneath the dark cloak. When they passed under a sliver of moonlight between buildings, she glimpsed the face above the mask. The forehead was smooth, unmarked. The eyes—dark, focused, but looked feminine in their shape.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. A woman, then. Maybe. One of Rellen's allies. Tessa focused, letting her inspect skill reach out toward her rescuer. The familiar tingle of the ability activated. [Rogue lvl???] The question marks didn't surprise her. Relief settled over her despite the circumstances. She was in capable hands, at least for now. The woman stopped.

Her grip on Tessa shifted, and she spun to the left, pressing them both against a stone wall. Light erupted behind them. Not torchlight or lamplight, but the harsh, white glare of magic. The spell crackled through the air where they'd been running just moments before, striking the wall across from them and leaving a smoking crater in the stone. The woman cursed softly under her breath—a word Tessa didn't recognize but understood from the tone. They weren't safe yet. The searchers had backup.

Or reinforcements had arrived. More magic lit up the alley mouth behind them, forcing the woman to dodge again and run deeper into the passages that threaded through the old quarter like veins. The chase stretched on. Left turn, right turn, another spell crackled past their heads. The woman was fast, sure-footed, but after several minutes of running, Tessa noticed a pattern. They kept circling back toward the same area.

The pursuers weren't just following, they were herding them, cutting off routes, forcing them into a tighter and tighter spiral. They were being kited. Driven where their enemies wanted them to go. She looked around as they ducked into another alley. The crooked sign hanging from the baker's shop. The narrow gap between two houses where she used to squeeze through as a child. The old water pump with the broken handle. She knew exactly where they were.

"Where are we trying to get to?" she whispered against the woman's ear. The rogue's eyes flicked down to her, surprised. For a heartbeat, She thought she wouldn't answer. Then, barely audible: "East gate. Rendezvous."

"Let me guide us," Tessa said. The woman hesitated, searching Tessa's face. Another spell lit up the entrance to their alley, closer this time. The woman's jaw tightened behind her mask, then she nodded once and shifted her grip. Instead of carrying Tessa like a sack, she repositioned her so she could see clearly and point directions while still being held securely.

"That gap," Tessa said, pointing to a space between two houses so narrow it looked impassable.

"Sideways." The woman followed without question, turning them both to squeeze through the tight passage. Tessa directed them across someone's private courtyard, startling poultry from their roosts, then toward a closed tavern.

"Back door—the lock's broken," she whispered. They slipped through the tavern, past overturned chairs and empty barrels, and out the front onto a completely different street. The woman moved exactly where Tessa pointed, taking every turn and leap and squeeze through tight spaces without hesitation.

"Over the fence, through the garden," Tessa directed. The woman vaulted the low barrier smoothly, still carrying her.

"Now left—see that hole in the warehouse wall?" They slipped through the gap Tessa had discovered years ago as a curious child. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew fainter. More confused. The hunters had lost the trail. The warehouse interior stretched before them, filled with the scent of old grain and dust. Moonlight filtered through broken boards high above, casting silver bars across the floor.

The woman set Tessa down carefully, but kept one hand on her shoulder—ready to grab her again at a moment's notice. Tessa immediately moved to a stack of crates near the east wall, her fingers finding familiar handholds.

"There's a loose board up there," she whispered, already climbing.

"Leads to the roof. We can cross a few buildings without touching the ground." The woman watched her ascend, then followed. Where Tessa had to search for each grip, the rogue flowed upward like water, her movements quick. At the top, she examined the loose board Tessa showed her, testing it with gentle pressure before easing it aside.

"After you," she murmured, gesturing for Tessa to lead. They emerged onto the warehouse roof under the open sky. She felt exposed for a moment, but the woman immediately guided them both into a crouch, using the shadow of a chimney for cover.

"This way." Tessa moved, stepping carefully on the sturdy beams she'd learned to identify years ago. Behind her, the woman's footsteps were silent even on the creaking wood. They crossed to the next building via a narrow plank bridging the gap. Tessa had used it countless times, but now, with pursuers below and violence fresh in her mind, the crossing felt different. Halfway across, she stumbled on a loose section. The woman's hand shot out, steadying her.

"Breathe," she said quietly.

"You're doing well." The acknowledgment steadied her more than expected. On the third roof, she paused and pointed toward the east gate, visible in the distance.

"There's a merchant stall backing up against the wall," she said.

"The owner leaves his ladder out. We can get down without using the streets." The woman studied the route, tracking each building, each potential obstacle.

"And after we're down?" Tessa considered. She knew these streets, had grown up in them, but the situation was making her question things she'd never needed to think about.

"There's a drainage culvert that runs under the wall. Comes out about beyond the gate. But..." She hesitated.

"But?"

"It floods when it rains. And it rained three days ago." The woman was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she reached into her cloak and pulled out a length of thin rope.

"We won't need the culvert." She secured one end to a solid beam, tested it with her full weight, then looked at Tessa.

"Can you rappel?"

"I... what?"

"Slide down a rope. Control your descent with your hands."

"I've never—""I'll go first. Watch how I position my hands." The woman demonstrated, wrapping the rope around her body in a specific pattern.

"The friction slows you down. Too tight and you stop. Too loose and you fall. Find the middle." She rappelled down the wall with perfect control, making it look effortless. At the bottom, she gave the rope two quick tugs—the signal for Tessa to follow. Tessa positioned herself at the roof's edge, rope arranged as she'd observed. Her palms were sweating. Below, the woman waited with arms ready to catch her if she fell. Don't think about it. Just do it. She stepped backward off the roof.

The first few moments were terrifying, the rope burned against her palms as she tried to find the right grip. But then muscle memory from years of climbing kicked in. She adjusted her hold, found the balance between control and speed, and descended smoothly to the ground. The woman's nod of approval was slight but unmistakable.

"Natural climber," she said quietly, coiling the rope with quick motions. They moved toward the blind spot Tessa had identified. The old watchtower's shadow provided cover as they approached the wall. But as they drew closer, the woman stopped. Her head tilted, listening. Then she grabbed Tessa's arm and pulled her behind a merchant cart just as crossbow bolts whistled through the air where they'd been standing. Three figures dropped from the wall above. Their enemies had anticipated this route.

The woman pushed Tessa behind the cart's wheel and drew two curved daggers.

"Stay down," she hissed. The first attacker came in low, twin short swords weaving in serpentine patterns, a typical sign of a blade dancer. The woman didn't meet his strikes head-on. Instead, she flowed around his attacks like smoke, each sidestep perfectly timed, letting his momentum carry him past her guard. Her dagger found the gap beneath his ribs as he overextended. The second attacker was a chain fighter, his spiked flail spinning in wide arcs to keep her at distance.

But the woman read the weapon's rhythm, ducking under one swing and stepping inside its arc. When he tried to reverse the chain's direction, she was already there, both blades crossing at his throat. The crossbow wielder had been reloading throughout the fight, his hands steady despite his companions' deaths. A marksman's patients. He raised his weapon just as the woman turned toward him. She threw herself sideways; the bolt passing so close it split the air by her ear.

Before he could span the crossbow again, she rolled behind the fallen chain fighter and came up throwing. Her dagger took the marksman in the chest, punching through leather and into his heart. She retrieved her weapons, wiping them clean on the dead men's cloaks.

"We need to move," she said, checking Tessa for injuries.

"More will come."

"Who are you?" Tessa asked as they approached the wall. The woman paused in her preparations, she was setting up some kind of grappling device.

"Someone who works for Rellen on occasion," she said finally.

"And someone who doesn't like seeing civilians getting involved." She fired the grappling hook upward. It caught on the wall's edge with a soft metal sound.

"Can you climb this?" Tessa tested the rope, it felt well-anchored.

"Yes."

"Good. When we reach the other side, we run. No stopping, no talking until we reach the rendezvous. Understood?" Tessa nodded, then began to climb. Behind her, the woman followed, moving with the same silent grace that had marked all her actions. At the top of the wall, Tessa looked back once, at the alleys where she'd grown up, at the house where her family had lived and died.

"Ready?" the woman asked. Tessa took a breath, feeling the weight of the two cubes against her ribs.

"Ready." They dropped over the far side of the wall and ran toward whatever waited for them.