Going Feet First Ch. 06

One of the Sergeant's eyes twitched at that, and a growling edge darkened his voice as he cursed, "Shit... Petra, help me get coal-skin here dressed. I'll carry her."

"Not leaving me to die?" the Drow asked. "I thought your kind hated mine."

"Lady, with the shape you're in? I can see what these animals did. You're not staying."

A questioning look took over the woman's expression as Petra unraveled the cloak she carried. It proved to be easily bigger than the Drow it was meant to cover but that didn't bother the Marine as he snatched it from the Neko.

"Let's take our time..." he said sarcastically.

In a moment he whipped it around the Drow's shoulders and wrapped her body in it the best he could. He then gingerly scooped his left arm under her legs and his right behind her back and lifted. At once he took in a sharp inhale as his shoulder wound seared with pain. Hissing under his breath with pursed lips, he stood up straight up and turned to the door while glancing at Petra.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

Nodding with approval, the Assassin moved ahead of him down the hallway. Despite her hastened jog, the Sergeant kept hot on her heels with their Drow addition.

"So what is your plan?" his passenger asked.

Flak shrugged as they bee-lined for the stairwell. "Get above ground, escape this city, and kill anyone in the way."

"Improvising?" she surmised, raising a snowy-white eyebrow.

Shrugging with a light nod, he responded, "Yeah, pretty much."

A disappointed frown creased her forehead and she looked to the other doors lining the hallway. "Are there other prisoners?"

"No," Petra answered. "Only us three were kept down here.

They reached the end of the torch-lit hall and started up the stairs that wound around the circumference of the circular well. The Neko in the lead moved with near silence up the wooden steps whereas the Sergeant's footfalls came down with solid thumps as the hard rubber soles of his boots met the wooden stairs. This changed as they neared the next floor, where the stairs leveled off into a landing with an open alcove. There Petra slowed right down, pacing each step to creep closer to the opening. Her human companion slowed as well, tiptoeing his way up several stairs behind her.

Carefully poking her head around the corner into the alcove, the Assassin found another prison block with ten rooms on each side. However, there were no lit torches along the walls, and enough dust lay on the floor to show there hadn't been traffic in a very long time.

"Empty block," Petra declared. "Let's keep moving."

"Common prisoners are kept on the fourth level down, which is the next floor above us," the Drow stated as she was carried up another flight of steps. "This block is for overflow. Where we came from was for their dangerous prisoners."

"Not well guarded," Flak scoffed.

"Low prisoner count," she explained. "Not enough to justify a full complement of guards."

"I'm insulted, considering present company," Flak huffed. "By the way, never caught your name, Coal-skin."

"Zax'va."

"Flak."

"I am Petra. Now we know each other, we can all be quiet now, correct?" the Neko hissed as they kept moving up the winding staircase.

She approached the next prison block, eyeing the flickering light that came from the hall. Soon her ears caught the low whispers of at least two men, their voices barely carrying even in the stone interior of the dungeon. Claws at the ready, she crept forward and peered at the pair of men in black leather armor holding lanterns to the slots in the doors of the individual rooms.

"She's not here, either," one of them whispered, stepping away from one door and moving to the next.

"Where is that damn cat?!" the other cursed as he opened another door's viewport. "Fretheim will flog us if we come back without her!"

"Shut that damn light out! Tryin' to fucking sleep in here," growled a prisoner as the lantern was held to the slot in his door.

"I will in a second. You see the guards bring a Neko through here? Black fur, long hair?"

Petra scowled and let her claws fully emerge.

"No, but heard talk of one being taken to the deep cells at the bottom of the steps."

"Thank you, friend. Rest easy."

"Fuck off."

The man frowned as he closed the view-port and turned to his friend. "Let's go find this kitty."

Right then Petra stepped out from around the corner, the two men immediately turning and taking notice of her presence. With a searing scowl she cracked her knuckles, and Fretheim's infiltrators drew their swords in response.

"Never hunt a Shadow Stalker," she warned. "We slaughter prey, never become it."

.........

A young man, three years short of his second decade, stared blankly at a half-eaten plate of food before him. Not all the gold-stitched table cloths, "exotic" dishes, or sparkling silver cutlery in the kingdom had the ability to awe him or keep his mind from phasing out the political talk filling his ears. It was all shows of power and brown-nosed praising from the guests about his older sibling. Most of it lies. All of it just courting and two-faced dealing as it always was here.

In these whitewashed walls of the castle dining hall lined with red and yellow banners, under the magically fueled chandelier of gold and crystal above, the laws of the land and lives of its people were bargained with. This was where the world of Redding was changed on the whim of a few elite around a table loaded to feed twice the number of people that sat around it.

The teenager had fought the entire night to hide his disgust for the people around him. Especially for the man sitting at the head of the table, the one with a golden crown embedded with a ring of jewels around the middle sitting atop his head of neatly groomed, dark, brown hair. Everything about him aggravated the teen, from his hazy green eyes and overly expensive clothing, to his ungodly mustache running across the whole of his face from sideburn to sideburn.

It was even worse for the teen that every time he glanced into a mirror, those same features would be staring right back at him. Same hair, same eyes, nearly the same face right down to the smooth jaw and slim nose. Then there was his older brother, sitting proudly and laughing at the old man's side. Five years he was his elder and even more identical to the King than he was. They were both the unmistakable sons, both spitting images of the royal line.

Sighing, the boy looked across the table to the girl with ink-black hair who sat playing with her food. Immediately she noticed his gaze and motioned her head toward the more vocal end of the table before rolling her eyes. He sent his sister a nod of agreement in return before the toe of a leather shoe jabbed each of their shins. Glancing to his immediate right, he glared at his mother sitting at the end of the table as she sent the same glare right back at him and then his sister, mouthing the words, "Be respectful."

"So, how is the north this time of year, Harris?" questioned one of the eight guests that were dining with the royal family this eve.

"Fair," the older prince responded. "Weather is holding a pleasant temperature in the mountain valleys, though whispers of another war are spreading."

"Another? Fyallier's temper, do they ever have some fierce ones."

"Refugees won't be entering our walls if it spills out," the King declared sipping his fine wine. "I won't allow greater strain on our resources."

"Aye, agreed. Getting caravans in these days is difficult enough since our merchants stopped going through Elven lands, and if another war brews-"

Three disruptive knocks echoed through the dining hall from the entry doors, drawing the attention of the whole table. All around the room, the warriors in scarlet armor and mages in sun-yellow robes stiffened up as they focused intently upon this disturbance. Two guards standing by the doors moved and opened them up to admit one of their own brethren into the room.

"Evening, my warrior," greeted the King.

Stopping in the middle of the floor between the dining table and entryway, the knight bowed, as he responded, "A fine evening to you, my Liege. Two bounty hunters have come escorted to the castle. He brings two live captures for your personal viewing."

A frown wrinkled the Ruler's forehead as he adjusted himself in his chair to better face the man interrupting his dinner. "Why would I care about another bounty? The fees are set in ink. If a bounty is met, pay it in full and dismiss him."

"Excuse my stubbornness, my King, but the bounty hunter would meet none other than you, and Captain Devon couldn't authorize the payment amount for those brought in."

"Could not authorize? What was brought in?"

The knight stood up straight from his bow while audibly swallowing a lump in his throat. "Two Commandants of the Drow Sun-Kissed."

The whole table shifted in their chairs as the King rose from his seat. Every guard came to the ready, their hands shifting to their weapons or their bodies giving off a pulse of magic as they readied what spells they knew. From his seat at the end of the table, the youngest prince looked to his sister Princess, as she did to him.

Together they nodded.

..........

A glowing ball of tanneran swung on a string hooked onto the front sight of Galen's rifle as he held it at the ready. Its eerie blue glow illuminated the backs of both Jrastra and Dreek as they marched ahead of the Private down the castle's stone corridors. To his right, with an impatient scowl plastered to his face, was Farok who had his cloak pulled back to bring the full brilliance of his polished armor on display. Taking up the rear, with an entourage of four men from the King's personal guard, was Captain Devon and Knight Aius.

Just breathe, keep calm, Galen thought. Celia... I'll be with Celia again before morning.

Her image was flooding Galen's thoughts just as they had since he left the underground. And the closer he got, the more the lanterns lining the hall seemed just a bit brighter in the way they lit the elaborate paintings on the walls. The exotic plants sprouting from pots at the base of each support column of the hallway seemed to give off a richer scent. He more took notice of the fanciful carvings engraved into the doors along the hallway, the intricate depictions of beautiful nature or a fierce battle.

Before morning...

"His majesty is in the banquet hall," one of the Orrorein troops announced. "Large double-doors coming up on our left."

Seeing the doors, Galen shot a quick look to the Neko beside him. Farok's hard gaze was focused on the path ahead and didn't even shift in his direction. His shoulders were squared, head tilted slightly forward as he appeared to be marching more than walking. It was clear he was readying himself for battle.

Letting out his lungs, Galen pushed out with his magic-spawned senses, stretching his awareness beyond what he could physically see. He felt the people around him at first, or at least felt them more distinctly. But then he started to sense the people in the dining hall. Specifically, a handful with magic.

"Seven magic users," Galen whispered near breathlessly in Nekonian. "Twenty fighting men on guard. All of them along the walls left and right."

While none of the men reacted, Farok's eyes widened before he glanced back at Galen. He held the human with his questioning look for only a moment before refocussing on the path ahead. His only response was a subtle nod of acknowledgement.

Cutting off his extended senses, Galen finished by whispering, "Thirteen dining at the center of the room."

The group came to the doors, and the two men on guard immediately moved to open the way. As the bright light of the well-lit room beyond flooded the hallway, Galen sighed and muttered, "Here we go."

.......

Twelve silent Drow stared at a wall in the complete darkness of the underground. A crudely carved "X" on the wall before them glowed with magical energy to make it a sure target for them to spot in their confined environment. Shifting in her armor and battle gear, Keetle had to stay on all fours to clear the low ceiling while two pouches on her belt pressed one edge of her armor down into her side. Were it not for the short timings of this mission, she would've shifted into a more comfortable position to wait for the signal but there would be no such luxuries tonight.

The Drow at the head of the lineup kept one ear pressed to the stone below that glowing mark and both eyes shut. Just waiting for the signal.

Galen better not fail us, Keetle thought.

Tick, tick, tick.

Every Sun-Kissed readied at those three echoes in the stone. The sister at the front placed her hand on the enchanted mark on the wall. Keetle adjusted the daggers on her hips and prepared to launch forward. It was finally happening.

Tick. Tick-tick. Tick.

A magical energy surged from the palm of the leading Drow, the mark on the wall instantly becoming cracks in the stone. One breath, two breaths, three. The wall crumbled into dust and in one swift movement the dozen Sun-Kissed darted forth from the crawlspace out into a lantern-lit tunnel. A covered wagon was there, a human man holding open the back flap to allow the Sun-Kissed agents to pile into the back.

In only a few silent moments, the Drow were loaded and the man muttered a command word under his breath. Just as he walked to his cart, the crumbled stones of the hidden passage animated. From the smallest pebble to fist-sized rocks, the rubble rose up and returned to its spot in the stone wall as though it had never collapsed in the first place.

After tying a knot to hold the wagon's canvas flap closed, Keetle settled in with her sisters in their new ride and listened as the human walked to the front and climbed into the driver's seat. Reins lashed, and after some annoyed grunts from a pair of oxen, they started moving.

Step three, done, the Aide thought to herself while looking to the eleven other Drow hidden in this wagon with her. Others were shifting and getting comfortable in their spots on the smooth wooden floorboards. Some gave the hand sign meaning "rest," ensuring at least one other saw the declaration before shutting her eyes. Others merely turned their heads to listen to the world outside. No action to be had yet, nor would there be for some time.

Sighing a bit audibly to bring at least two pairs of eyes in her direction, Keetle signed that she too was lying down to sleep and waited to see a confirming nod. When one of her sisters acknowledged her intent, she pulled her hood over her eyes and settled in.

It would take some time to leave the tunnels of Redding's underground and cross the city to reach the castle. If the timing was right, they should arrive not long before Galen and have the time to prepare.

...

A boot jabbing her thigh woke Keetle up with a jolt. One hand was on her dagger, the other ready to cast a repelling wave of magic. When she came to focus on what was before her however, she saw her squad-mates sitting calmly around her with smirks and suppressed chuckles.

We're coming up on point three, signed their mission leader from the front of the wagon.

Keetle nodded and covered her mouth to yawn while her sisters prepared their weapons. Their transport slowed then, something which snapped the Aide right out of her drowsy state. In moments they were stopped and the telltale sounds of chainmail swinging against steel armor circling around the wagon.

"Bit late for a food run, Georgie," announced a human just on the other side of the canvas wagon cover from Keetle.

"If you fuckers send a runner at this time of night for more goddamn food again, I'll skin him alive," snapped a scratchy voice in the driver's seat. "Prince's return party or not, I have a business to run come sunup and this doesn't pay enough for me to crawl my ass out of my hole in the wall while the moon is still high."

"Calm down, old man. I'll talk to the Captain and get you compensated. Head on in, you know the route."

A snap of leather reins had the cart jerking forward, the Drow passengers relaxing their grips on their weapons. Several hand crossbows returned to their holsters after holding a careful bead on the corner of the wagon cover where the human's head would be should he choose to snoop on the cargo. Keetle herself relaxed her magic that she had ready to shred the cover off the wagon in an instant and kept Dreek's instructions in mind.

Once inside the guards' barracks, our agent will bring you to a receiving area. Guards bring goods into their barracks from there for inspection before sending them on into the castle. Here is where you make the first strike...

I hope all is going to your plan, Commandant, the Aide thought.

As the wagon continued on, the heavy footfalls of armored soldiers became ever more numerous around the cart. The path beneath the wheels smoothed over, jolting the passengers around less and less with each passing moment. Several stood up then, drawing weapons for the coming assault.

"Twenty zets until attack. Keetle, be ready." The mission leader's whisper didn't carry well inside the cart, but it was enough for the Drow to hear.

"I'm ready, Ssz'Vasbryn," the Aide replied, shifting herself to the middle of the wagon and extending her arms out to the sides.

Her magic then pressed on the canvas wagon cover. Seams in the fabric stretched out under invisible tension while knots holding it in place came undone.

"Ten zets. Hallway to the castle is on the left side of the cart. Get to the gate between it and the barracks here and close it. Keep the minions out for the next step."

Again the wagon slowed while men all around barked orders at one another. A moment later, they were stopped, footsteps fast approaching the Elves.

"Now," Ssz'Vasbryn ordered in a low voice.

With all the power she could muster, Keetle blew the cover off the wagon in a wave of shredded canvas that knocked over anyone who stood too close. The dust hadn't even reached the peak of its flight when the dozen Drow bolted from their cover with their blades free of their sheaths. Twenty men had been quickly cut down in a flurry of steel and a series of fired bolts from the hand crossbows before they even realized what was upon them.

Ssz'Vasbryn ripped her blade from a gap in a knight's breast plate, letting the kill fall to the ground while she quickly took in her surroundings. They were inside the main building of the guard's barracks, within some primary tunnel running the perimeter of the building. It was easily broad enough to allow large wagons or larger volumes of troops to move without much delay. Beside the wagon in which they'd come was a well-lit side tunnel with a sign above the entryway reading "Castle."

"That way, hurry," she ordered, pointing her longsword.

The squad moved with near silence as they ran toward the home of Redding's king. Before taking off herself, Ssz'Vasbryn looked to the aged human that had brought her squad in, giving him a nod as she stated, "You have been satisfactory. Final payment will come by dawn."

"Just end this damned war," he growled back before snapping the reins.

With a grunt and a huff the two oxen began to pull his cart forward, and the old food merchant carried on down the tunnel. Ssz'Vasbryn didn't waste time watching him leave. She turned on her heel and broke into a full sprint down the corridor after her troops. It didn't take her long to reach a point where the corridor bell-mouthed into a larger chamber, where her eleven sisters were finishing off a section of human guards that had been guarding the steel double doors at the far end of the room.