Page 59 of The Eye of the Fifth
He blinked, ripping his gaze from the spot where Sunsi had disappeared from view. ‘Come.’
In the slums on the edge of the city, and the furthest point from the Black Castle before the River Emor divided the land, the Flaming Falcon stood. It was an establishment weathered by age whose patrons were the poorest of Dracyg’s citizens. Gedeon practically dragged Amala through the back streets, her little legs barely able to keep his pace. Both were drenched head to toe with ashy-rain.
The unrelenting rainfall was somewhat of a blessing for it was hard to see through, and as it spattered and drummed every surface, their own footfalls were cloaked from hearkening ears.
Gedeon had no choice but to rely on it, for his darkness would not come again without being accompanied by that horrific pain.
A mystery he would uncover if they survived this night.
Sentries were crawling the streets after them; he could hear their shouts, could hear home after home being broken into, citizens cast out into the rain as they searched each dwelling for the two fugitives without care of destruction.
Guilt rose, but Gedeon shoved it deep down.
Wrenching the door of The Flaming Falcon open, his nostrils were assaulted with the smell of clammy, unwashed bodies as he looked upon the sea of people in the tavern, shielding from the dirty rain and drinking their woes away with cheap and nasty ale.
He moved instantly, keeping Amala’s hand tight in his and swiping a holey, moth-eaten cloak from the chairback of an unsuspecting patron. Swiftly donning the cloak, he pulled Amala to the side of the dusty bar, putting her between himself and the wall.
Through the grimy windows, masses of red swarmed the street outside. Gedeon swore. ‘This was foolish,’ he hissed. ‘We have cornered ourselves.’
Without a word, Amala sidled out from behind him.
‘Amala!’
At that moment, the front door burst open and the sentries leaked in, shoving the patrons, demanding his and Amala’s whereabouts, pulling back hoods, smashing glasses-
He rushed to Amala’s side as she waved down the barkeep, and as the grubby man drew close, she slammed the gold coin Sunsi hadgiven her on the rotting wooden surface, desperately glaring at him. Chaos ensued behind them, a tavern of normality upturned by the royal guard, magic and force used against those who opposed them, the cries of the hurt echoing through the muggy air.
The barkeep looked at the coin, then at the sentries, then finally his gaze rested on Gedeon.
He swiped the coin from the bar and tossed it back to Amala, then lifted a hatch just to the left of them. ‘Quickly!’ he spat. Amala ducked under without a moment’s hesitation, and Gedeon, seeing as they had very little other choice, followed her through. ‘Down the stairs,’ the barkeep murmured, nodding to a narrow door in front of them. ‘Trapdoor under the empty barrel. Use the coin. Don’t delay!’
Amala went first through the door and into a very narrow staircase, with Gedeon in close pursuit. At the bottom of the stairs was a room, the only light source a singular torch on the wall. It smelt of a mixture of spilt old ale, mead and wine. His eyes adjusted to the darkened room almost instantly, and in the corner opposite the singular torch, was a number of wooden barrels. He shoved at each of them, until the third one wobbled, the contents empty as promised.
With ease, he shoved it out of the way to reveal a small outlined square in the concrete beneath. It had no handle, nor hinges, nor any sign that it opened at all.
‘The coin!’ whispered Amala, then hastened to place it in the centre.
Light beamed from beneath her hand upon contact, and the seams of the square glowed like fresh magma. She took her hand away, coin gripped in her fist, and the square lifted slowly from the floor until it floated high above their heads.
Being their saviour aside, it was truly beautiful magic.
Amala swung her legs into the hole, ready to climb down the rickety ladder to the mass of blackness below. Gedeon put a steady hand on her shoulder. ‘Me first. Grab that torch from the wall.’
She nodded and jumped up.
Raucous noise continued above them, though thankfully, no sentry had made it past the barline.
Yet.
Gedeon descended the ladder feet first. ‘Stay there until I reach the bottom,’ he called up to Amala. She nodded again, her face illuminated by the torch now in her hands.
A door smashed open. Gedeon’s head snapped up to see Amala whirl around, her face set with terror as the sentries flocked down the stairs, bound for the cellar.
‘Come, Amala! Now!’ It would be mere seconds before they rounded into the dark room and caught sight of her.
With the torch in one hand, she frantically began to climb down, but as her braided head cleared the square hole, the puzzle piece hovering above fell back into place with a resoundingbang,making Amala jump with fright and lose her footing.
The torch whizzed past him and hit the ground beneath. Gedeon relinquished his hold on the ladder, catching the falling Amala and pulling her into him as they plummeted over three metres to the ground, Amala gripping him with scarcely a cry.
