The Glitch in the Hero's Path

Chapter 49: Mud and Blood

The sharp, metallic clatter above them dissolved into a chorus of harsh, barking orders. Palace guards were swarming the upper balustrades with lanterns in hand.

Basra felt his heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird. The cold rain did nothing to cool the feverish heat burning inside his veins.

Levi grabbed Basra by the upper arm with a grip like iron. The soldier pulled him sideways into the suffocating shelter of a overgrown boxwood hedge.

Watch your footing, Levi whispered, his breath pluming white in the freezing night air. They're dropping the hounds into the lower lawn.

A deep, resonant baying echoed across the wet stone courtyard. The sound sent an immediate, icy shiver straight down the center of Basra's spine.

Those aren't ordinary guard dogs, Basra muttered, wincing as a sharp thorn scraped across his freshly bruised jawline. Those things are bred for tracking military targets.

They use modified scent-tracking filters, Levi replied, not breaking his intense stare toward the glowing palace windows. Move now, or we die in the dirt.

They dropped low to the muddy earth, crawling on hands and knees through the dense thicket. The thorny rose stems tore ruthlessly at their stolen servant trousers.

Fabric ripped with a soft, frustrating sound against the razor-sharp briers. Basra ignored the warm trickle of fresh blood running down his forearms.

His system interface flickered violently at the base of his vision. Tiny, jagged lines of red text pulsed with an erratic, dangerous rhythm.

[Warning: Local telemetry compromised. Pursuit units at ninety percent efficiency.]

Basra ground his teeth together to keep from groaning aloud. The sync feedback loop was threatening to scramble his short-term memory entirely.

He couldn't afford to black out here in the freezing mud. If he dropped now, Levi wouldn't carry him twice.

They reached the far perimeter of the formal rose garden. A rusted iron service gate loomed ahead of them through the swirling mist.

The gate was secured with a heavy iron chain and a thick brass padlock. It looked entirely immovable in the dim, flickering lantern light.

Levi slid to a halt beside the rusted bars. He reached down and scooped up a heavy, discarded stone paver from the wet grass.

Stand back, Levi muttered, swinging the heavy stone like a blacksmith's hammer.

The stone struck the old brass padlock with a dull, shattering crunch. The lock shattered into three distinct pieces, dropping silently into the mud.

The chain fell away from the bars with a heavy, metallic clatter. The sound seemed deafeningly loud in the quiet, rain-drenched courtyard.

Hurry, Basra hissed, pushing the rusted gate outward with his shoulder.

The iron hinges groaned in agonizing protest. The narrow gap was barely wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through sideways.

Levi shoved Basra through the narrow opening first. The soldier lingered for a fraction of a second to check their backtrail.

The beam of a heavy brass lantern swept across the empty rose garden behind them. Angry shouts erupted from the darkness as the guards spotted the open gate.

Get through, Levi ordered, diving headfirst through the rusted iron rails.

Basra scrambled forward into the dark, narrow alleyway beyond the palace wall. The cold mud sucked greedily at the heels of his leather boots.

They hit the slick cobblestones of the middle merchant district with a breathless thud. The transition from the manicured gardens to the slums was instantaneous.

The alleyway was narrow, twisting, and completely deserted in the freezing rain. Dark wooden tenements loomed overhead, blocking out the pale moonlight entirely.

Basra leaned his back against the damp brick wall of a closed bakery. He drew in ragged, gasping breaths of the heavy, soot-stained air.

Levi was already on his feet, scanning the shadowed length of the alley. The soldier's face was an unreadable mask of cold, hard focus.

We need to keep moving, Levi said, his voice dangerously low. They'll fan out across the side streets within five minutes.

Basra pushed himself away from the brick wall with a grimace. Every single joint in his body felt rusted solid and screaming for grease.

My left leg is locking up again, Basra whispered, clenching his jaw against a sharp wave of nausea.

It's the sync bleed, Levi replied, stepping close and throwing Basra's arm over his own shoulder. Lean on me. We're almost to the safehouse.

They stumbled forward together into the labyrinth of dark alleys. The rain fell harder now, washing the fresh blood and mud from their torn clothing.

Faint sounds of pursuit echoed faintly from several blocks away. The guards were searching every doorway, courtyard, and alley in the sector.

Basra dragged his numb feet across the slick, uneven cobblestones. The world swam dangerously at the edges of his failing vision.

He focused entirely on the steady rhythm of Levi's boots hitting the ground. One foot in front of the other, matching the cadence of a surviving soldier.

A stray cat darted out from beneath an overturned wooden crate. It hissed softly before disappearing into the deep shadows beneath a sagging staircase.

They turned a sharp corner into a dead-end courtyard. A heavy, iron-strapped wooden door was set into the damp stone wall ahead of them.

This is it, Levi muttered, releasing Basra's arm to fumble with a hidden latch.

He pressed a sequence of raised iron studs on the brickwork. The heavy door clicked open with a soft, muffled pneumatic sound.

They tumbled into the black interior just as heavy footsteps echoed loudly at the mouth of the alley. The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the sound of the rain.

Pitch-black darkness swallowed them whole. The air inside smelled of stale dust, old oil, and dry paper.

Basra slid down the interior stone wall until he hit the floor. He pulled his knees up against his chest, shivering violently from the cold.

Levi struck a small, sulfurous match against the sole of his boot. The tiny flame sputtered to life, casting long, dancing shadows across a cluttered basement room.

The dim yellow light revealed stacks of discarded ledgers and broken mechanical parts. It was an abandoned workshop, forgotten by the municipal authorities.

Levi walked over to a small iron stove in the corner. He dropped a few dry wood scraps inside and struck another match.

A feeble flame caught, casting a faint, warm glow across the damp stone walls. The heat would take time to build, but it was better than the freezing alley.

Basra stared blankly at his mud-soaked boots. His hands trembled uncontrollably as the adrenaline finally began to drain from his system.

We lost them, Basra murmured, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. For now.

Levi didn't answer right away. He walked over to the heavy wooden door and dropped a thick iron security bar into place.

He turned back, wiping a smear of dark mud and dried blood from his forehead. His eyes looked hollow, carved from exhaustion and old memories.

They won't stop hunting us until the district seals down completely, Levi said quietly, leaning against the cold stone wall. The Duke knows we have the tax deeds.

Basra reached inside his torn canvas jacket with trembling fingers. He pulled out the damp, leather-bound bundle of stolen documents and tossed it onto a wooden crate.

The deeds are safe, Basra said, offering a tired, bitter smile. But we're running out of time and blood.

Levi walked over and picked up the damp leather bundle. He examined the unbroken wax seals with a critical, calculating eye.

The merchant guilds will see these by morning, Levi stated, his voice carrying a sudden, hard edge of certainty. If we can reach Hollis.

Basra nodded slowly, resting his throbbing head against his knees. The warmth from the small iron stove finally began to seep into his frozen bones.

We reach Hollis, we break the Duke's hold on the lower wards, Basra whispered, closing his burning eyes. Then we finish this once and for all.

Levi sat down on an overturned crate opposite the stove. He pulled a worn whetstone from his pocket and began sharpening his hunting knife in the dark.

The rhythmic scraping sound filled the quiet basement room. It was a steady, mechanical heartbeat in the middle of a broken city.

Suddenly, a loud, heavy fist slammed against the exterior wooden door. The sound echoed through the basement like a thunderclap.

Open up in the name of the municipal watch! a harsh voice roared from the other side of the wood.

Basra's eyes snapped wide open in the dim light. He exchanged a sharp, horrified look with Levi across the small room.

The heavy iron security bar on the door began to rattle violently under a sudden, brute-force shoulder check. The wood splintered slightly around the iron frame.

They found us, Basra whispered, scrambling to his feet as his system interface flashed a violent, blinding red warning across his vision. What do we do now?