Author's Notes
For our next installment of Seed of the Void, Isaen must make his escape from the dark tower to his promised ship. But with the tower guard looking for him, how will be slip away? Who will he meet along the way?
This Chapter took a bit longer than what I would have wanted, but I actually have solid drafts for the next 2 already in works. Hope to get you all some good content. Would love to hear your thoughts/feedback on the story so far in the comments!
All characters herein are 18+.
As always thanks to the every trusty KenjiSato as my editor!
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Chapter 4: Flight of the Rook
Despite his snappy jump from the hole he had blasted in the side of the Board and Bard, and his impressive landing subsequently, Isaen had seriously fubared his leg. After climbing down from his lofty escape, he had a limp to contend with; all the while, keeping to the shadows and back allies of the Port level of the tower. He still clenched the hand cannon under his cloak, afraid he would turn a shadowy corner and come face to face with one of the hordes of guards he could hear searching for him.
Would it have killed the witch to give him some sort of cloak of invisibility? Or was this little endeavor of theirs on a budget?
Slinking around a corner, several blocks away from the inn, Isaen rested against a cool stone wall. The streets were chaotic, as more Red-capped guards mulled about, harassing all manner of passers-by in their search. They must be the 'adversaries' that Callista had warned him about in her note. But why did they take so long to track him to the inn? Why not when he was alone and vulnerable during his ascent?
Holstering the glowing blue and overpowered magical weapon, he winced as he grabbed his leg. The pain was radiating outward from his calf, no doubt his joints taking ill to his leap of necessity. He had something in his bag for such an occasion, but this was neither the time nor place. He needed to keep moving, the tower guard was tearing this place apart.
"Have you seen a man, dark looking, Wearing a cloak? An outsider?" A dozen paces away from Isaen's shadowy hiding place, a guard questioned several traveling yeomen with yellow cowls, each shrugging and shaking their vexed faces. The description was so vague that they pointed to every other dark character on the street that it described.
A frustrated guard whipped the dust from his red cap, as he scowled at his subordinates and threw his hands to order them to scatter. Red caps took heed and bobbed frantically throughout the crowd.
Grunting, and in a terse rebuke, the wart-ridden elder elder-guard passed on a warning. "Aight ya blunt-nosed jokers, but those who aid or hide him will be punished severely, be warned."
Of course, a warning to not aid someone who fit the description of half the occupants of the tower, did little but give them a story to tell over their next drink. The ever-busy yeomen scurried throughout the tower and simply couldn't be bothered worrying about anything but their deliveries. Looking off-put by the terse wagging of the guard's finger, some took off their hoods to not fit the visage of this wanted shadowy figure.
Isaen counted his lucky stars that the guards had not gotten a better look at him back at the Board and Bard. Clearly, he had some leeway, but by no means could he let his guard down. His eyes scanned for a quiet place to dig through his bag and tend to his leg. Should he be seen by the wrong set of eyes, his bag full of inconspicuous magical items would be an oddity for anyone and a dead giveaway. Best he should avoid all contact and stick to the shadows-- it had worked for him before, even before coming to this loathsome tower.
"Make way! Make way for the cappies!" A man, aloof in the middle of the street and stumbling around, drunkenly announced as a troop of guards marched through. A signature spear butt-end saw him on his ass with a gruff caw, but he followed it with a deep laugh, only a strong drink could allot.
They were incredibly serious about finding Isaen. At least the authorities were, the residents and those visiting seemed more miffed to be interrupted by questioning and the sudden appearance of more authority than they cared for. A noticeable few receded into the shadows like Isaen; those engaging in the illicit activities were often overlooked here, but they were the types to get nervous when too many guards were sniffing around. Surely, if the guards were frustrated enough, bringing smugglers or toxin peddlers to appease their superiors would lessen their rebuke for letting this mysterious dark figure slip through.
For Isaen, it meant that it was becoming harder to find his own secluded way, even the back alleys were crowded.
Passing through a few less-than-scrupulous characters gathering their shady wares into a sack with haste, Isaen reflected on whether his new employers had been had. Perhaps Cicero, Callista, Rolland, all of them were locked up in the pit as he had been. Their screams and cries at being jabbed with spearbutts, or worse, being tortured for details about Isaen. Isaen certainly didn't intend to meet that fate again. Despite his disappointment in losing a steady flow of gold coins, Isaen resolved to make it out with, or without, knowing their fate.
Regardless, no amount of chiding by Callista would have convinced him to be discreet quite like this party the tower guard was throwing him. Looking in his hand, at the wooden chip with the details of his departure from this dark rock, he needed to make a very discreet haste to his promised ship.
Through alley and gutter, across rock face, and amidst the dredge of society, he slinked along. It would be a painful and long distance before he found the docks where his fate beckoned him to depart. As he slipped into a vantage point above the wharf, the cavernous tower would expand. Beyond, lay many wooden platforms leading to the edge of the façade and the jetties that reached forth into the void. In the distance, lay in the berth, his ride, under the jetty marked with the crest of the setting moon, just as his token said. At the end of that branch, the freighter Gorgon was waiting.
A patchwork of metal, rivets, wood, and rust, the Gorgon looked like a daunting ride. Not that he expected luxury, only to make it to his destination without being sucked into the cold, black expanse around them. Though reflecting on the looming darkness of the Tamberan Voidhold above him, this stone monstrosity was in no better shape.
He was not alone in this departure, it seemed, as all manner of passengers and cargo queued to load onto the freighter bound for Minhaven. It was mostly travelers bound for the remote green lands flowing with seas of grass and crops. It was a famed place of refuge for those tired of the old world of Vetus and its rooted ways and terrors. Merchants sought to bring exotic goods to a land that lacked flare and spice, and where mothers swaddled babes in their arms, praying for a better life. Minhaven was a backwater, but there was peace, of sorts.
Perhaps, that's why Callista was sending him there.
Looking closely, there was a noted presence of Cappies at the mouth of the docks. Travelers seemed to have gained heavier scrutiny because of Isaen and his antics. Passengers, and cargo alike, were molested in the name of security. Much to their reputation, the Cappies were rather rough about it, as well. More than one would-be passenger voiced their protest of the overzealous groping they received. Their complaints landed on deaf ears, however. It would be difficult for Isaen to slip past this, not with so many looking for a character of his demeanor.
But it was not the Cappies that caught his eye. Tall figures, those who wore armor, regal and white, stood amongst the tower guards overseeing their efforts at harassing passengers-- Elves. Isaen recalled some of Callista's final words to him, "No Elves." Perhaps, these were the true enemy... what lot had he thrown himself in with?
Taking a deep breath, Isaen pondered his situation. A dark figure, an outsider, with a cloak. Isaen sat back against the wall. It was good a time as any, to try to find that pain-numbing brew that Callista had told him about. It, of course, was mixed in with the rest of the vials of potions, poisons, and elixirs he carried. All of them clanked around whenever he made pace faster than a trot. He had half a mind to sell off the majority of them to lighten his load. Or he could get a pack-beast upon landing on Minhaven.
The clanking of glass proceeded his producing the subject vile, holding a clear serum. It was strangely odorless. He checked the label more than once to ensure it was not the Sablevine. Not entirely convinced he had it right, but very sure he was in incredible pain, he took a long swig as he winced. All the sneaking had made his leg become a lightning rod of sharp sensations. He knew it wasn't broken, but that jump had not done him any favors.
Taking a long, sharp breath, he felt the sensation of sciatic pain subside as the potion worked its alchemic magic. Amidst the wash of pain relief and his labored breathing, he hadn't noticed the figure watching him from a distance, while creeping up behind him. His bag, at his feet, wide open and displaying all his rare and exotic implements.
"Yoink!" A swift hand grabbed the charged magic rod from Isaen's bag and made a dash down the alley away from the wharf. A comical cackle echoed along the rock face as they darted away.
"Fucking little runt!" Isaen saw the quick blur of a street rat make off with one of his most valuable magical items. It was a smaller figure, short and gaunt, wearing tattered clothes and unwashed skin. By the lengthy knotted hair waving behind it, he could tell it was a girl, but that hardly mattered to the wrath he felt. Thankfully, the pain had subsided enough he could make chase, grabbing his sack and dashing after the little bitch.
Weaving in and out of the alleyways and dark passages, over crates and walls, and around the occasional hermit cowering in the filth, the girl bolted. Isaen knew he would soon lose her if he did not act quickly. His hand reached for the hilt of his hand-cannon, but he thought better of it. Discretion... such a blast, no matter if it tore the little bitch into shreds, would attract a big scene. Instead, he had plenty of other tricks in his sack of wonders.
Fumbling as he tripped and stumbled around debris and leaping across a small wall, he grabbed for a scroll in his sack, as he managed to keep an eye on the thief ahead of him. She was stretching her distance ahead. Clearly, she knew these back alleys a lot better than he, using that to her advantage as she laughed and taunted him with every turn and leap.
"Don't count on catching me!" Her high-pitched tone was slightly winded as she sprinted down a straightaway.
Isaen pulled a scroll out and unfurled it. He hadn't actually seen a magical scroll before. As the parchment unfurled, he groaned, seeing words and incantations he needed to read to make the spell go off. At the top was a glowing seal that contained magical energy, and with the most rudimentary knowledge, he knew the first step was to place one hand on the seal.
He nearly toppled forward over a crate, trying to read and run at the same time. Reading, running, and keeping an eye on the thief ahead of him, was hard work.
"Atundium-bittidium-huhwhat?" He struggled with the appropriate hand motions and words, as he huffed and puffed. Even with the numbing potion working on his leg, he was still feeling a twitch of pain. His target, yards ahead of him, would soon be lost.
