63: Streets of Karakan (Patreon)

Content Warning: Trauma

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"I am Captain Vakkal of the City Guard," said the guard officer blocking Herald and Mak's way. "There have been reports of screaming from an estate up the street. Answer my questions quickly and to my satisfaction and you can be on your way."

Mak glanced my way. "Of course, captain. But please, be quick. This man is injured."

"So he is," the captain said, his suspicion clear. "What happened?"

To my surprise, the captive spoke up. "A vicious animal, Captain," he said. "A night black nightmare of claws and teeth! I was running an errand for my mistress when it attacked me. I barely fended it off, and then these women found me and offered to help me. We were just on our way to report the attack."

"I see," the captain said thoughtfully. "And the two of you? What are you doing here?"

"What?" Herald slurred. "Can't walk inna streets anymore?"

"Quiet!" Mak hissed at her, then said tiredly, "Captain, as you can see, my sister is drunk, and I was just bringing her home when we found this man bleeding in the street. Her sweetheart is with the army in the south, and the worry got too much for her. She used to come up here with him. Please don't judge a lovesick girl too harshly."

The captain's expression softened. "I understand. My own daughter's betrothed is with the army as well. But I need to ask one more question: what is in the bag?"

Mak and the captive both froze. Herald barely seemed to have heard.

"My errand –" the captive said.

"Go on, just show me and we can be off," the captain said, gesturing for them to approach.

The captive hesitated. "Ah… can we… can we do this away from the ladies? It's sensitive."

"Fine," the captain said. "Lorra, help the man."

I watched the captive carefully as a guardsman helped him limp away from Herald and Mak together with the captain. When he spoke he lowered his voice so that I couldn’t hear, making me even more suspicious. I prepared to, if necessary, shift back and turn this into a bloodbath. But the captive surprised me again. After a short exchange the captive was led back, his arm once again over Mak’s shoulder. The bag remained unopened.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” the captain said. “Apologies for delaying you on your way. There is no need to report the animal attack, just get yourself to a healer quickly. Good day, citizens!”

With that, the captain led his troop up the street, and away from the trio.

“Come here,” I ordered from the shadows when the street was clear. They obediently limped over. “What did you say?” I asked the captive.

The captive saw the displeasure on my face, and swallowed. “I told him who my mistress was, and that she would not like her delivery being delayed.”

“That mistress being the same woman that so stupidly took me and my friends,” I looked at Mak pointedly, “prisoner? Who is she?” I asked.

“She’s called the Night Blossom. I don’t know her real name, but some of the guards are in her pay.” He swallowed again. “I gambled.”

I slowly showed him my teeth, and he and Mak both flinched away slightly. “Congratulations,” I told him. “You won. You get to live another couple of hours. Maybe more, if you remain useful and don’t tell anybody anything about me.” I turned to Mak. “Now, get everybody to Rallon and the Wolves.”

Herald, who was only half conscious at the time, lifted her head and gave me an unreadable look when I commanded Mak. I ignored the pang of regret that I felt and melted back into the shadows. We needed to have a proper conversation about what had happened, the three of us, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The presence of the guards had cleared the street very effectively, and I could keep up with the others more easily until for a while. But inevitably the number of people increased, until it started to turn into a crowd. We’d moved into a lower, denser part of the city where the buildings were taller and more tightly packed and private residences gave way to combined workshop-homes and what looked like ancient apartment buildings. With the number of people in the streets, there was no way that I would be able to move without giving myself away.

Mak seemed to realise the same thing, stopping and moving the group into the mouth of a deeply shaded alley. “We will keep moving,” she said into the shadows. She looked in my general direction, so she must have figured out how to distinguish me from the natural shade of the buildings. “This street leads to a small square. Turning left on that square onto a similar sized street takes you past many warehouses. The Grey Wolves have converted one into their lodgings. They have a sign up, so you cannot miss it.”

I shifted back for just long enough to tell her, “Go. Keep the prisoner alive. I will come when I can.”

Mak nodded, and then left with the others.

I found my way up onto a nearby roof, taking the risk of shifting out of the shadows to heave myself over the edge and into the light. The roof had a fairly high edge and no nearby buildings that overlooked it, so I should be able to remain unseen there until nightfall. There was a raised hatch which allowed access, but I dealt with that by curling up 200-plus pounds of dragon on it. If anyone was determined enough to open it that they pushed me off… I’d deal with that if it happened.

*****

By nightfall the crowds in the street had thinned out considerably, though there were still people moving. There were oil lamps burning every couple of dozen yards along the main street, but they seemed to be more to show where the street ran than for any real illumination. I glided along the street, not bothering to hide or keep away from passers-by; I was exhausted, though I’d mostly slept during the hours since I’d separated from the three humans. It was an emotional exhaustion. I had been in a constant state of anger ever since I woke in that cell, and it had gradually worn me down.

Can you do something? I asked into the silence of my own head, but all I got for a reply was a kind of incredulous confusion. I was sure that my dragon must have been doing something with my emotions, but she’d been absent since before Mak lured me into an ambush.

That thought made me wonder if I should have just killed Mak in her cell, but when I remembered how Herald had cried into her shoulder I was glad that I hadn’t. I couldn’t see how I could ever truly trust her again, but… it was Mak. Mak whose first instinct every time she saw me hurt was to ask if I needed help. Mak who just wanted Herald to be safe and happy.

I hoped to whatever gods might be listening that she’d never make me kill her.

The square at the end of the street wasn’t all that small. There were some slightly fancier buildings facing it, probably higher-end shops or inns or whatever. A larger street left the square on each side, and none of them were centred, which bothered me more than could possibly be reasonable. I took the left-hand street and a couple hundred yards down, just like Mak had said, was a warehouse among other warehouses that was unmistakably the Grey Wolves’ base of operations. Not only was it the only one with guards and two large flaming pots outside it, but a sign had been put up above the door featuring a large, grey wolf, midstride.

The problem here was that I didn’t know how many or which of the Wolves actually knew about me. It might be all of them at this point. I hadn’t exactly been inconspicuous the first time I ‘supported’ them, way back when they raided that bandit camp. But there was no point in just showing myself and demanding to be let in.

Staying in shadow form was beginning to get tiring, but I still had a couple of minutes, I figured. I swept into the alley flanking the place. The second floor had a row of windows, about four yards up from the ground. Most of them lit, but at the far end I could see one that was dark and open. An invitation if ever I saw one. There was a guard in the alley, but that wasn’t a problem. I passed behind him, then stretched up the wall, just barely managing to reach the windowsill, and that was all I needed to pull myself up. I entered a small, darkened office, and shifted back with a sigh.

I was not alone, but with an invitation like that I hadn’t expected to be. Still, Garal clearly hadn’t expected me to just appear out of the darkness like that, and nearly fell off the chair he was sitting on.

“Mercies, Draka!” he hissed once he recovered himself. “I damn near pissed myself! Where did you come from?”

“I got in through the window, of course,” I told him. And it was absolutely true. “Didn’t anyone tell you how good I am at sneaking?”

“There’s sneaking,” he said, “and then there’s whatever that was. I don’t think even Rib could have done better.” He paused, then said, “Do you mind if I light a candle? You’re barely a silhouette.”

“Go ahead,” I told him, blinking over to regular vision as he struck some light. “Where are the Herald and Mak?”

“Gods you’re big,” he said as he saw me, then, “Sleeping. What happened to them? Herald passed out drunk as soon as we got some food into her, Mak won’t talk about it, and she made us promise not to interrogate the prisoner until you got here. All she’d say was that we have a traitor among us and that they were kept prisoner somewhere, then she ate enough for two men twice her size and passed out in the middle of the day.”

“It can wait until they’re awake,” I told him. “Where are they? I want to see them.”

“In the infirmary,” he said. “But there are people –”

I locked eyes with him. “Then clear them out,” I said, biting off each word. “I want to see them. Anyone who’s already seen me is fine.”

“Alright,” he said placatingly. “I’ll see what I can do. Wait here.”

He opened the door onto the second floor of the warehouse, where cloth partitions had been set up to section off beds with some sort of privacy. I heard him issuing orders, telling people to clear out into the street until he told them that they could come in again. There was some grumbling, but when he sharpened his tone he was obeyed, by the sound of several boots going across the floor and down a set of wooden stairs. He followed them down and did the same down there.

“Come on,” he called up the stairs after a while. “It’s clear all the way to the infirmary.”

Walking on the wooden floor felt strange. I was used to my claws digging into soil, but here there was a little bit of resistance on each step before the tips of my claws sunk in, and then they stuck a little bit when I lifted my feet. I ended up having to pull my claws in as much as I could and then lift the tips of my toes as I walked. It was less uncomfortable than having my claws pulled on every step.

The stairs presented another problem. In my limited experience with stairs I’d usually been able to just jump down, but these were too narrow and too long. I suddenly understood why dogs had such trouble with the damn things. I very much wanted to shift and flow down the stairs, but since Garal didn’t seem to have sussed out what I could do I wanted to keep it that way. Mak’s betrayal had made me reevaluate how much I could trust the people I thought were my friends, and as amiable as Garal was I didn’t actually know the man.

I ended up carefully sidling down the steps like a frightened animal. It was not my most dignified moment, but Garal wisely kept a straight face.

It seemed that all the beds were on the second floor, because the first was sectioned into an armoury, a training area, a mess, and various other smaller areas that I couldn’t identify. I could see Boot and Arlal in the armoury, tending to equipment, and they waved uncertainly to me as I came down the stairs. I acknowledged them with a wave of my head before Garal led on.

The infirmary was one of the few areas that was in a fully separate room, behind a sturdy wooden door. Inside were several beds, though only two were occupied. Herald and Mak slept next to each other, Lalia sitting next to Mak, watching her sadly with her hands clasped in her lap. She looked up as we entered. She must have been prepared when Garal cleared the place out, but her face still turned stormy when she saw me.

“What happened?” she hissed at me quietly, rising from her chair to approach me. “You weren’t there in the morning, and then I come in to find my friends in our infirmary!”

“Fuck you,” I hissed right back at her, throwing all of my simmering anger and frustration into it. God, it felt good, and the tone was enough to make both Lalia and Garal take a step back, with Lalia visibly reconsidering her attitude, perhaps realising that she was unarmed in a small room with me between her and the only door. “Last night I got smashed in the head with a fucking sledgehammer, and then I had to break your friends out of a slaver prison. That’s what happened. That’s where I was this morning.”

I realised that I’d been stalking towards Lalia when her boot bumped against an empty bed. “Alright, alright,” she said, still backing up, palms out towards me. “Sorry. I do that. I get angry when I’m worried, yeah? Lots of that going around, alright?”

“Yeah,” I said noncommittally. The pecking order had been firmly established, and I stopped advancing on her. “How are they?”

“Starved. Exhausted,” Lalia said. “Herald shows signs of overhealing, having been healed over and over again. Her clothes are bloody and full of cuts, from a knife or dagger, probably…” Her voice caught in her throat, and I saw her eyes shimmer with tears before they turned angry instead. “Mak’s hands are a mess. She must have been healing them as much as she could, but I can only hope that it’s enough. Her nails are mostly gone. She whimpers if I try to touch her. I don’t want to imagine what they went through.”

Garal picked up when Lalia stopped. “I was here when they came in,” he said. “I couldn’t speak to Herald – she was so drunk and exhausted that we could barely feed her – but Mak was… she’s different. Twitchy. Broken, almost.” He looked at Lalia. “It’s worse than when we met her, I think.”

“That bad?” Lalia asked, and when she turned to look at Mak this time a few silent tears ran down her cheek. Garal put his arm around Lalia and drew her to him.

I watched them, and looked at the women on their beds, and all I felt was the anger boiling in my gut.