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Chapter 256&257 - Enemies Meet
🕑 Added 2020-03-31 23:55:52 +0000 UTC Damn, damn, damn!
Over the past few days, Kizco hadn't slept very well. In his nightmares, the motionless face of a noble lady with a stern face and sharp eyes kept appearing. It was the same face he had seen again and again at his old work place, where he had pretended to be an apprentice. A look behind him told Kizco that his nightmare hadn't left him. In fact, it was closer than ever.
Getting rid of the police people had been easy. They were just commoners with fancy dress, so a few advanced maneuvers had thrown them off far enough for him to disappear. However, the woman had proven more resilient than he could have imagined.
Damn prostitute.
With the same emotionless face as ever, the unknown woman continued her pursuit along the rooftops of the city. While Kizco made his way in as straight a line as possible, sometimes along the roofs and sometimes through the alleys, the woman often chose different paths. Sometimes, on long straights, his cultivator talents would widen their distance, but before long, she would catch back up again, always. From time to time, he would see other police in the distance or run into dead ends, which forced him into alternate routes. However, the woman seemed to know all the shortcuts as well as positions of the police and always used these detours to catch back up.
Annoyed, Kizco jumped a small gap between buildings, and this time the woman followed without pause. While he landed with a practiced roll, the woman's jump looked sloppy. Even so, she was still there.
Can't shake her. Can't keep going like this.
Whoever this woman was, she wasn't easy to get rid of. Like a scorned lover, she kept hanging on. At this stage, it was better to fight rather than try to get away. Once this woman was taken care of, he would have an easy time with the rest of the police. Thus, he came to a stop and turned to the woman, who also slowed and stopped some ten meters away from him.
What are you staring at? You're just another trophy.
Her breath was heavy, her hair messy and sweat had soaked her clothes, but her eyes were still sharp. As she observed his every move, she slowly backed away from him with a wary stance.
Too far away, he concluded, as he felt the cold iron inside his right sleeve.
At this distance, his knives could still land, but he couldn't guarantee a clean hit. Worse, even a woman would have time enough to dodge, so long as she retained a calm head. By all accounts, she looked calmer than she had any right to be.
Closer then.
Yet when Kizco took a few determined steps towards the woman, she stepped back in the same measure, never leaving him out of her sights. Again both came to a halt and stared at each other. And again, Kizco felt like he was about to explode.
Bitch bitch bitch! If you won't fight, then what are running for!? You're worthless!
She wouldn't be shaken, and she wouldn't fight. While she remained careful, she did whatever annoyed him the most. Like a file against metal, she slowly ground down his nerves. His gnashing teeth showed his frustration as his fingers grasped his knife ever tighter. After a few more seconds of stare-down, he could hear more shouts and steps approach in the distance. To his right, two police men rushed through the road next to the building they had squared off on. Both newcomers looked up at the confrontation between the spy and the unknown woman, and they were closing in fast.
Piss and bile!
After another wordless curse and a bitter face later, Kizco turned to run again. He couldn't take down the cowardly woman in a short time, but he couldn't just sit here either. At this point, his only option was to run, as useless as it seemed. This way, he could at least try to find a new angle of escape. With a huge vault, he jumped down from the roof where he would be easy to spot and rushed through the streets again.
For now the lady was still keeping up, but at least she had looked exhausted just now. A few more elevation changes and all the shortcuts in the world wouldn't help her keep up. Although she may have been in good shape for some common broad, she still was no match for him, a real cultivator. None of them were, he would show them. Again he sped up, as he glanced at the sun up above to orient himself. This time, his goal was towards the east, towards the river.
I'll just swim away. They can't keep up in a straight line, right? So let's go straight all the way. Maybe they found us on the island, but they can't have found our escape boat on the river.
Yet just as the river came into view beyond the wide roads ahead, he spotted at least half a dozen police were waiting for him along the shore. Together with them stood a man without uniform, but with a green headband. This was someone he had met before: On the day of the fire, he had stood behind and monitored the police on the bridge, and prevented their passage onto Chukru Island.
Damn. You all deserve death! Damn the south! Damn these ants!
Again! They had cut off his path again, treated him like a cornered rat again! He had no proof, but he was almost certain that the guy with the headband was a cultivator. There weren't many cultivators in the southern kingdom's employ, but all of them were elites trained by the last emperor of Medala, to oppose the righteous rule of Grand Ancestor Viribus.
In his condition, Kizco had no chance to fend off this challenger, not before he would be swarmed by the ants around him. Without much of a plan, he rushed into the next side alley and just continued to run. Once again, the best he could do was stay on the move and look for any chance at escape.
How dare they! You're all just trophies!
Frantically, his eyes darted around the surroundings as he sped past, in search of a way out. Yet even now, the fake noble woman was still on his heels. What sort of woman could run like this!
How? Where?
At last, he found a way ahead, a final chance to make a last stand. This wouldn't be a permanent solution, but maybe it would be enough to get the woman off his case. Once she was gone, he could slip away and hide out until night broke. Under the cover of darkness, the cultivators would still be a threat, but the mortal police would be useless. With renewed determination, Kizco sprinted ahead, and rushed into the building in his front. If they treated him like a cornered rat, he would act like one. Now he would show them his desperate bite.
__________________________
While Antaya had studied maps of the area around the manufactory to make use of hidden routes, by now they had long left her area of expertise. Thus, she didn't follow the spy right away this time. After all, the house he had disappeared in was far too strange. Like every building on Chukru Island, the house must have been a new construction, no more than four years old. Yet it surely didn't look like one.
Looking around, this part of the island appeared to be a residential area for the craftsmen, with many houses of shorter height. Their outsides were each decorated with fancy woodwork and abstract ornation, something one would only see in noble districts in other parts of the country. The courtyards in front of the houses were each large, fancy gardens, good enough for all the master craftsmen who were so valued by the southern kingdom. Still, standing in row with other houses like it, the building the spy had fled into stuck out like a sore thumb.
Where most Medalan properties were open, someone had built a fence around this one, high enough that it completely covered the sight into the front yard. Only through the open door could Antaya see the dead trees and dirty walkways of the former garden. Beyond it, the building itself looked poorly taken care of as well. Vines, just about the only thing to grow on the property, had burrowed under the paint and begun to explode the color off the walls.
Even the windows had been barricaded off with pieces of wood, as if the owner had tried to prevent a vicious invasion from the plant life around him. The entire house looked abandoned, and completely ruined the beautiful neighborhood around it. In the center of the house, the heavy door stood wide open to invite her in. Yet the darkness beyond made it look like the open maw of a beast, its evil nature ready to swallow her.
While Antaya was still sizing up the evil door, building up courage to enter, a ghost warrior came rushing towards her. With a frown, she asked. “Who lives in this house?”
Although the suspect had fled inside, there was little reason to rush for now. While he could hide out inside for now, their net would only draw closer and closer as time went on. Even if he barricaded himself, they could simply smoke him out. Thus, she took the time to wait for reinforcements and gather some more information on their battlefield. After all, she was sure she wouldn't be a well-trained cultivator's opponent in a fight, and there was no reason to take risks now. Plus, she was interested in the strange building anyways.
“Lady, this should be the house of Master Xander,” the warrior answered, concern both in his voice and his eyes.
“By that, you would not mean the same Master Xander who brought in the fake apprentices today, would you?” she asked back, as her concern mirrored his. Three days earlier, she had seen the foreign craftsman from a distance. He didn't appear sloppy at all, very different from his supposed home. Even so, the ghost warrior confirmed her guess.
“The very same,” he said.
As realization sank in, her face was drained of all color. This wasn't some random house the spy had just fled into out of desperation. Instead, it was the enemy's hideout. They may have planned and prepared for all of their illegal operations here. Inside, the spy could have all kinds of methods to make trouble for them, possibly even to escape and make today's operation fail.
The spy could use some method to warn his co-conspirators throughout the city of their actions, or he could order them to launch another attack somewhere in the city as a diversion. Who knew, there may even be a tunnel inside the basement, or they may have trained birds to carry north whatever secrets they had already stolen.
With a sour face, she looked behind, into the street. The exhausted police was still far behind them, and even once they would reach here, they would still be useless without a few minutes to catch their breaths first. Although she didn't like it, every second counted if they didn't want to risk failure at the last step. Color returned to her face as determination rose from her heart.
“We are going inside,” she said towards her subordinate.
“Yes, lady,” the ghost replied without a word of hesitation.
While they approached the building, Antaya grasped for the hidden weapon her daughter had given her. However, she soon retreated her hand again and instead grabbed for a short-sword from within her robes. Her daughter's weapon was a one-off emergency solution, and she preferred something more reliable, something she had experience with. Beside her, the ghost's left pulled out a similar utensil, but with a triangular blade. In addition, a buckler had already been fastened on his right arm beneath his clothes, standard fare for the more combative parts of Emperor Titu's hidden army.
The front door had been left open by the hasty spy, so they could step inside right away. Careful to prevent any noise, they sneaked through the ruined yard and up to the entrance. Yet before they even entered, they were interrupted by a noise from inside the building, to their left.
“He's here. Ground floor. Sounds like he knocked something over. Please be careful and stay behind me, lady,” the ghost said, and marched through the door with more confidence to apprehend his panicked opponent. However, he had just stepped onto the wooden planks inside, when Antaya heard a soft twang from around their feet.
“Careful!” she shouted, just in time for the warrior to raise up his buckler. Yet even so, it wasn't enough. A sharp spike swung down from the ceiling and lodged itself into the warrior's shield. The force alone was enough to throw him to the side like a child.
Her hand's grip tightened around her weapon as she jumped inside to support her warrior. Her vigilant eyes vigilant searched the entry hall for her foe, to no avail. Even so, she had no chance to relax. As the building's central hub, the front hall connected the entire house with three paths, one to the left, one to the right and a flight of stairs up to the second floor. All of them created enough ways to surprise and attack them. Yet even after a few seconds of wait, no one came to take advantage of their temporary weakness. For now, the spy had hidden somewhere else.
On the ground, she found the taut wire they had tripped to release the trap from its position above the door frame. The wire was connected to a contraption above the entrance, which had simply swung the weapon down onto the oblivious entrants.
What a nasty trap.
Since Master Xander was a clock maker, it was no surprise he could create something like this. Yet most clock makers would not use their talents to create contraptions like this inside their own homes. Most of them weren't mad enough. Confronted with the chance for even more danger, they would have to be more careful from now on.
After the room was secure, Antaya glanced down to make sure her warrior was unharmed. The weapon that had attacked him was still stuck in the buckler, a very crude blade, but sharpened to a glint. Maybe it had come from a scythe or a pick, but it certainly was an improvised weapon from a tool.
“How are you?” she asked in a calm voice. Though concerned, they had to remain focused.
“No worries, lady. I'm fine,” the warrior claimed, though the pearls of sweat on his face said otherwise. With his left, he propped himself up, the short sword still in his hand. When he pulled the pick out of his buckler, the blade was followed by a small fountain of blood, which stilled into a steady trickle.
“You're injured,” the lady said in shock. The trap had so much force that it had broken through the metal shield and the warrior's hardened cloth armor, straight into his arm. Luckily, the ghost was left-handed and carried his buckler on the right side. Without the protection, he may have lost his arm or even died from the sudden attack.
“The wound is less than a finger deep. I am fine,” the ghost insisted. Rather than worry about his wound, his eyes searched for any more sneak attacks or ambushes. As always, the ghosts were determined to serve and protect their masters above all else. Since he managed to get up by himself and even managed to hold up his injured arm in a defensive position, Antaya decided to forego the treatment for now. They still had work to do. For now, she needed to figure out which way to search in this alien house.
“Every house in this area is built the same,” the warrior explained. Much to Antaya's relief, he was much more knowledgeable than her about the details of the city's constructions. “there is no connection between the two halves except for this front hall. The sound earlier came from the left, so we already know where the spy is and he has no more way to run. I will lead the way.”
“Please do, but we should remain careful.” She knew that there was no way for the warrior to accept his master's lead, so she wouldn't start a pointless argument over his injury or her responsibility. Even so, she remained right behind him and was vigilant all throughout, ready to pull the injured ghost behind her at a moment's notice.
After they had finally managed to make their way past the building's entrance, Antaya got a good look at the interior for the first time. To her shock, the inside of the house was in just as bad a state as the outside. A strong smell of sulfur and dust hung in the air. Cobwebs decorated every corner, as well as all the junk, wood chips and the like that was strewn about.
The walls looked in a sorry condition as well. There was a good chance that the old craftsman had extinguished his considerable anger on them from time to time. With some portions crooked and blackened, it was a testament to Saniya's experienced builders that none of the inside damage was visible on the outside, or that none of the walls had collapsed yet.
The arcavian craftsmen had a running contract of five years with the crown, that much Antaya knew. At this point, their contract had already run close to four years, and it looked like this Master Xander intended to leave his house in an inhospitable state when he left the city.
As they sneaked forward, the ghost warrior motioned Antaya to stop, before he stepped over another tripwire into a larger room. If the cold fireplace with the grill and pot atop was any indication, this may have been a kitchen area once. However, now it had been transformed into a workshop.
While the wordless warrior stood guard to defend against sneak attacks from the two entrances, Antaya looked over all the materials on the various tables. Farthest away from the fireplace sat several short mounds of black powder in a number of containers, together with various earthen pots, pans and measuring cylinders. Now she knew where the sulfuric smell in the house came from.
“Gunpowder,” Anyata mumbled after she had picked up a tiny bit and rubbed it between her fingers. With the evidence before her, it was all but clear who had taken the powder to the flintlock manufactory five days earlier. After all, while gunpowder itself was a prohibited substance and heavily regulated in the southern kingdom, its components were not.
Both sulfur and charcoal were easy for anyone to acquire in large quantities. Only saltpeter was a bit trickier, but summer had just ended, and every summer the substance was widely used to cool down the houses of the rich and important families in Medala's cities. With the right tools and the right mixture, it would have been easy to produce vast amounts of powder for someone like Xander, who had spent much of his work over the past few years on guns.
Yet the powder wasn't the worst she found stowed away in this barricaded ruin. On the other side of the fireplace, on another table, several pieces of paper were strewn about. Although Antaya didn't understand the language or many of the obscure scribbles or markings, she could still recognize the pictures on one or two of them. By the looks of these sketches, Xander had copied off the machines and tools he had seen in the flintlock manufactory.
While the images seemed to lack many details and only described some of the machinery's outsides, they still gave Lady Antaya a great shock. With any luck, Chukru's strict rules on exits and entries had prevented these pictures from leaking out so far, otherwise it would be a great victory for their enemies.
“Luckily we found them early. The ink on one of them is still almost wet, so this one must have been created this morning or maybe last night. They cannot be very old. By the looks of it, Xander may have been recruited by the spies only a short while ago, so chances are he only started to produce them and they had no time to sneak these out yet.”
Despite her optimistic words, there was a good chance that at least some sketches had made it into the hands of their enemies. Even worse, her earlier fears of a possible carrier pigeon became even more substantive. Who knew how many of these sketches were inside the house, or how many the spy had taken with him as he fled past here. Even though they had found the source of danger, it still needed to be stamped out. The last spy still needed to be caught.
Determined to make up for the negligence of the ghosts, she turned and followed the ghost warrior's look towards the exits out of the room. In the back, there was another hallway with an open door halfway along it. Again, they marched carefully and stepped over another tripwire, before they could see inside the opening. The door itself led into a rough hole in the earth, with stairs of fresh wood that led downstairs. A nasty, rotten stench came from inside, as if an animal had made its nest there and died.
“Lady, these houses only have cellar access from the yard outside. This door was installed later, possibly by its master.”
As soon as the warrior spoke, Antaya understood his meaning. Once she did, a shock ran down her spine. Her worst fears were confirmed yet again. This should be a secret escape tunnel, dug out by Master Xander or possibly the spies to evade persecution. While the river would prevent the tunnel from escaping the city, the fugitive spy could still use it to get past their encroaching encirclement. Once he slipped through their net, he may be able to sneak away on a boat or relay some of the sketches with more support from hidden allies.
“We need to follow right away,” she said with urgency in her voice.
“Lady, there is danger. We should wait until-”
“No time! Go!” she shouted. Although it was a reckless move, she would rather risk her life than let the spy get away with Saniya's secrets.
Next to the open door was a rack with three hooks, with lanterns hanging from two of them. With his injured right, the ghost warrior picked up one of the lanterns and ignited it, before he made his way down the wooden stairs, Antaya right behind him.
As soon as they had gone past the opening, both could feel the air move in front of them. While Antaya still believed her hunch about a secret passage confirmed, the ghost jumped to the side and down off the stairs.
“Down!” she heard him shout, and instinctively dropped to the floor. Just in time, since something flew right over her head and took a few strands of hair with it. Again, a weapon had been launched at them through some hidden mechanism. This time, it had come from the front and had swung in an arc up the stairs. This one felt even more evil than the first, but Antaya had no time to consider the details of the trap.
She jumped up and rushed into the room to reinforce, following the warrior down the side of the stairs, where she landed on hardened soil. As she stood up, she finally saw the spy again, in a standoff with the ghost warrior. Illuminated by the flicker of two lanterns, the man who had looked like an innocent apprentice before now looked like a vicious beast straight from the depths of the underworld.
“Welcome, friends. You sure are slippery to escape the angry moron's traps. But your road ends here. Don't worry, I guarantee that you will make for some fine trophies.”
She didn't understand what the strange spy was saying, but she could see the glint of the knife poking out from within his right sleeve. His meaning was clear. He intended to take them on and kill them right here. Although Antaya tensed up again, her worry eased. After all, since he had decided to wait for them here, it meant that he had nowhere to run.
While the uneasy standoff continued, her eyes darted around the room to confirm her suspicions. Indeed, the earthen walls were solid on all sides. Nowhere could she find any openings, not even paneling or shelves to hide any tunnels. However, she found something else that made her blood chill. In a dark corner of the empty basement, revealed by a flicker of light, she found the source of the cellar's stench.
There lay three bodies, with leathery skin and empty eyes, half decomposed already. Thrown away like silk napkins after a hearty meal, the three former young men had been piled up to become food for vermin.
“Are these your trophies?” she asked the spy in a cold voice. Now that their target had no more path of escape, there was no need to risk a dangerous fight. The best option now was to stall for time and wait for reinforcements.
“Hah! Those are that cocky moron's handiwork. I'm not that sloppy, you'll see soon enough.”
Madness glinted in his eyes as he stared at Antaya.
“You, cheap bitch. You are quick on your feet, aren't you? I think those would make for a good trophy, actually. I always like to keep a memento whenever I am about to go home.”
“Dare talk to my lady like that again and you lose your head!” the ghost shouted, but Antaya put her free hand on his shoulder before he could rush the spy. There was no telling how many more traps would be hidden away in the darkness. Again, the smartest move was to remain still.
“No need for politeness,” she said and stepped next to the warrior to address the spy and protect her warrior's flank. “You may think that you still have a chance to take us on and escape, but I can tell you that your attempts are futile. For today's operation, we have mobilized more than one hundred police officers, as well as dozens of hidden cultivators. All of them are highly trained and armed to the teeth, and all of them are coming here. If you want preferential treatment, if you want to be treated with a warrior's honor, you should surrender now. Then we can give you a nobleman's cell and wait for your master to redeem you. Otherwise, I guarantee on the name of late Emperor Titu that you will suffer like you have never suffered before.”
“Ahahaha!” A piercing laugh came from the spy, as his eyes opened wide to reveal his madness. “You think you get to dictate to me, bitch? You think you can catch me? I'm a genius, I'm a master. No one can catch me. And I'll show you right now! Come here and let me cut your pretty face.”
“Bastard!” the ghost shouted again. This time, he took a step forward beyond the lady, but as soon as he did, a loud bang tore his right side apart.
Everything within the basement turned to light when the lantern the ghost had held exploded. Piercing screams came from the warrior who rolled on the floor, the right half of his body engulfed in flames. For a moment, the basement became brightly lit, and in the flames, the mad spy launched towards them.
Still confused but not paralyzed, Antaya raised her sword to confront the spy. However, the glint from the spy's sleeves rushed towards her before she could react. Without a chance to block the lightning attack, the spy's knife lodged itself into her torso and made her fall back. She landed heavy on the floor of hard earth, but somehow managed to keep her head up so she wouldn't be dazed by the impact.
Although she had been hit, she felt no pain from the knife in her stomach. Confused, she touched at the hilt that stuck through her clothes, before she narrowed her eyes. From underneath her robes, she retrieved a small firearm, the weapon her daughter had given her for this operation. The two barrels were encased in a thick layer of wood, and the knife was lodged right inside. As it had saved her life once already, Antaya was ready to let it save her again.
When she got back up on her feet, the spy was bent over the burning ghost, and the screams had stopped. Even so, the madman continued to stab down one of his knives, again and again.
When she was less than three meters away, the beast remembered her existence.
“Now for you, you cheap who-” Before he had fully turned, the muzzle flash once again turned the basement as bright as day. The paper cartridges inside the barrels broke and released a showed of tiny projectiles into the spy's right flank. Driven off the body by the immense force, he landed on the ground with a heavy thud and ceased to move, unconscious or dead. Up above, Antaya could already hear the shouts of the police men who had come to reinforce them. Finally, all northern spies had been caught, and her nightmare was over.
