02-15-2003, 05:40 PM
http://www.lurkerlounge.com/cgi-bin/forum/...rum=AtmasTavern
Continued after a long break, the story of Angeleyes, as she rescues her nephew from a kidnapping Necromancer and goes in search of the Tal Rasha, and Boy's mother, OcchiSonya.
Angeleyes held tight to Mikal's hand as she hurried down the street. Ducking around two men carrying a large piece of furniture, she spotted a wagon trundling southward, toward the docks, and dodged the thickening pedestrian traffic until she had caught it.
A shrill blast on a tin whistle behind her added a last burst of energy as she grabbed wagon's tailgate. The guards had sorted themselves out and were about to come looking for her. Hanging on to the tailgate with one hand, and Mikal with another, she kipped up and swung her body underneath the wagon's bed, sliding forward on the dusty cobble stones. Letting go the tail gate, she allowed her momentum carry her forward, then reached up and grabbed for the right wheel's inner hub as it rolled by. For a frantic moment, she thought her grip would fail her, but then the momentum of the vehicle overcame her problem. She let her body turn under the wagon and her cupped hand act as a hook. Coughing in dust and gripping Mikal with her other hand, she bumped along the street, every collision with a cobblestone bringing renewed pain to her joints.
Mikal squirmed within her grasp, his eyes wide with questions, his feet bumping loosely along the street.
"Mikel dear, grab tight to Aunti Occhi's robe. I need to hold on with both hands. We are running away from the guards." She gritted her teeth from the effort it took to let him go and reach up to grab onto the hub with her other hand, then bit back a yelp as Mikal tightly grabbed her hair with his left hand and her right breast with his right. She could feel the fear and confusion in his fingers as they trembled.
In a gritty whisper she coaxed him into rearranging his grip. "Grab my hood with your left hand, that's a good boy, and now get your other hand on the robe's belt. That's right, well done. Now, let's ride along for a while. I need to think."
Mikal's breathing calmed a bit, then he whispered in her ear, real confusion in his voice.
"Where are we going, Aunt Occhi? Master Orthas kept promising me that we were going to see Mother. Will you take me to her?"
Angeleye's choked back a sob, the desperate plea for reassurance in her nephew's question a knife in her heart.
"We are going to the docks, Mikal, and when I find the ship bound for Kingsport, I will try to get us both on it. Aliza should be waiting for us if her errand here is done."
Mikal perked up. "Mistress Aliza? The archer? She helped me stay away from Master Orthas after the guards took you away. She told the guards to take care of me while you were in the dungeon, and they did. Jemali even let me try out his sword on the wooden target in the practice yard."
The enormity of this revelation broke like dawn in the assassin's head. Aliza knew of her arrest, and was probably trying to get her released! When the dead body's were eventually discovered, what danger would that put Aliza into? Her plan needed to change. Abandoning Aliza in Lut Gholein was not an option.
Angeleyes almost lost her grip on the hub as the wagon negotiated a right turn. From the change in sounds and light, she realized that they had entered Lut Gholein's marketplace. The wagon continued on for a few dozen paces and then rolled to a stop. Familiar voices erupted to her left.
"Hail, Warriv, what have you brought me today? Is the steel wire I asked for there in your bundles?" the rich, melodious voice of the weaponsmith inquired.
"Aye, Mistress Fara," replied a gruff voice that could only belong to the caravan master Warriv, "I've got it near the back of my load." The shuffling of feet and lumps above her told the assassin that Warriv was shifting loads to find the parcel for his customer. The wagon creaked and then two feet landed less than an arm's length from her head, on the other side of the wagon wheel.
"There you are, as ordered. I'll be back tomorrow for payment, I am running a bit late today, and Lord Jehryn's accountants won't hold the gates for any deliveryman. Westmarch Bitter won't get any tastier in the Sun." The wagon creaked again as he leapt up into the seat. With the crack of a whip at his team, Warriv put the wagon into motion. Angeleyes let go of the hub and let the wagon leave her lying in the plaza directly in front of Kara's weapon's repair stall. Somewhere off to ther left, the tin whistle sounded, a signal that the guards were working out their search plan for their runaway prisoner.
The tall, red headed woman had her back turned to the plaza as she carried a heavy bundle into her shaded workplace. Angeleyes quickly rose and scurried into the tent behind her. Mikal made a little "oof" as she let him down, which caused the smith to whirl around, a dagger appearing into her hand.
"What are you doing- - Angeleyes, is that you?" demanded Fara, her eyes going wide in surprise. "You look like you've been dragged through the streets!"
Pulling back the cowl from her stolen robe, the assassin nodded her head and smiled.
"Yes, it is me, and I am in desperate straights. I need to hide for awhile until Greiz spear pullers stop looking near the market place. I need to hide Temp's nephew too." She nodded down at Mikal who was staring wide eyed at Fara'a display of scimitars.
Fara put her dagger back into her belt.
"I guess I'll ask why later, Occhi. I don't buy the murder charge that has been hung on you." She gestured to the rear of her stall, behind the forge. "Here, get under that pile of old sacks and stay quiet."
Angeleyes and Mikal wasted no time in burrowing themselves deep into the pile of old burlap. As they snuggled together, Fara began banging on some metal tool or weapon on her forge.
So much for a nap, thought the mage slayer to herself. I suppose this is as safe as we are going to be for a while.
To be continued. . .
Continued after a long break, the story of Angeleyes, as she rescues her nephew from a kidnapping Necromancer and goes in search of the Tal Rasha, and Boy's mother, OcchiSonya.
Angeleyes held tight to Mikal's hand as she hurried down the street. Ducking around two men carrying a large piece of furniture, she spotted a wagon trundling southward, toward the docks, and dodged the thickening pedestrian traffic until she had caught it.
A shrill blast on a tin whistle behind her added a last burst of energy as she grabbed wagon's tailgate. The guards had sorted themselves out and were about to come looking for her. Hanging on to the tailgate with one hand, and Mikal with another, she kipped up and swung her body underneath the wagon's bed, sliding forward on the dusty cobble stones. Letting go the tail gate, she allowed her momentum carry her forward, then reached up and grabbed for the right wheel's inner hub as it rolled by. For a frantic moment, she thought her grip would fail her, but then the momentum of the vehicle overcame her problem. She let her body turn under the wagon and her cupped hand act as a hook. Coughing in dust and gripping Mikal with her other hand, she bumped along the street, every collision with a cobblestone bringing renewed pain to her joints.
Mikal squirmed within her grasp, his eyes wide with questions, his feet bumping loosely along the street.
"Mikel dear, grab tight to Aunti Occhi's robe. I need to hold on with both hands. We are running away from the guards." She gritted her teeth from the effort it took to let him go and reach up to grab onto the hub with her other hand, then bit back a yelp as Mikal tightly grabbed her hair with his left hand and her right breast with his right. She could feel the fear and confusion in his fingers as they trembled.
In a gritty whisper she coaxed him into rearranging his grip. "Grab my hood with your left hand, that's a good boy, and now get your other hand on the robe's belt. That's right, well done. Now, let's ride along for a while. I need to think."
Mikal's breathing calmed a bit, then he whispered in her ear, real confusion in his voice.
"Where are we going, Aunt Occhi? Master Orthas kept promising me that we were going to see Mother. Will you take me to her?"
Angeleye's choked back a sob, the desperate plea for reassurance in her nephew's question a knife in her heart.
"We are going to the docks, Mikal, and when I find the ship bound for Kingsport, I will try to get us both on it. Aliza should be waiting for us if her errand here is done."
Mikal perked up. "Mistress Aliza? The archer? She helped me stay away from Master Orthas after the guards took you away. She told the guards to take care of me while you were in the dungeon, and they did. Jemali even let me try out his sword on the wooden target in the practice yard."
The enormity of this revelation broke like dawn in the assassin's head. Aliza knew of her arrest, and was probably trying to get her released! When the dead body's were eventually discovered, what danger would that put Aliza into? Her plan needed to change. Abandoning Aliza in Lut Gholein was not an option.
Angeleyes almost lost her grip on the hub as the wagon negotiated a right turn. From the change in sounds and light, she realized that they had entered Lut Gholein's marketplace. The wagon continued on for a few dozen paces and then rolled to a stop. Familiar voices erupted to her left.
"Hail, Warriv, what have you brought me today? Is the steel wire I asked for there in your bundles?" the rich, melodious voice of the weaponsmith inquired.
"Aye, Mistress Fara," replied a gruff voice that could only belong to the caravan master Warriv, "I've got it near the back of my load." The shuffling of feet and lumps above her told the assassin that Warriv was shifting loads to find the parcel for his customer. The wagon creaked and then two feet landed less than an arm's length from her head, on the other side of the wagon wheel.
"There you are, as ordered. I'll be back tomorrow for payment, I am running a bit late today, and Lord Jehryn's accountants won't hold the gates for any deliveryman. Westmarch Bitter won't get any tastier in the Sun." The wagon creaked again as he leapt up into the seat. With the crack of a whip at his team, Warriv put the wagon into motion. Angeleyes let go of the hub and let the wagon leave her lying in the plaza directly in front of Kara's weapon's repair stall. Somewhere off to ther left, the tin whistle sounded, a signal that the guards were working out their search plan for their runaway prisoner.
The tall, red headed woman had her back turned to the plaza as she carried a heavy bundle into her shaded workplace. Angeleyes quickly rose and scurried into the tent behind her. Mikal made a little "oof" as she let him down, which caused the smith to whirl around, a dagger appearing into her hand.
"What are you doing- - Angeleyes, is that you?" demanded Fara, her eyes going wide in surprise. "You look like you've been dragged through the streets!"
Pulling back the cowl from her stolen robe, the assassin nodded her head and smiled.
"Yes, it is me, and I am in desperate straights. I need to hide for awhile until Greiz spear pullers stop looking near the market place. I need to hide Temp's nephew too." She nodded down at Mikal who was staring wide eyed at Fara'a display of scimitars.
Fara put her dagger back into her belt.
"I guess I'll ask why later, Occhi. I don't buy the murder charge that has been hung on you." She gestured to the rear of her stall, behind the forge. "Here, get under that pile of old sacks and stay quiet."
Angeleyes and Mikal wasted no time in burrowing themselves deep into the pile of old burlap. As they snuggled together, Fara began banging on some metal tool or weapon on her forge.
So much for a nap, thought the mage slayer to herself. I suppose this is as safe as we are going to be for a while.
To be continued. . .
Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the Men 'O War!
In War, the outcome is never final. --Carl von Clausewitz--
Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum
John 11:35 - consider why.
In Memory of Pete
In War, the outcome is never final. --Carl von Clausewitz--
Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum
John 11:35 - consider why.
In Memory of Pete
