Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

35 | The Plan (that isn't a plan) of Uncertainty

The King's men posted to the castle were not the slackers Archer had encountered in Port Kiver. They were the best at what they did, but they didn't quite match up to his refined skills individually. Two were different, though. Two could go front and behind, they could go side to side, they could surround him.

If he'd learned anything from the Champion, it was to fight with your head and nothing else. Let your body do the grunt work, let your mind do the strategy.

He found a corner and made sure his shadow didn't give him away. He waited for the crisps, whose own lengthening shadows flickered across the ground in the moonlight. He waited.

When the crisps rounded the corner, he burrowed his knife up to the hilt in the first one's chest. He pulled it out as fast as he could, whirling away from the dangerously close longknife the second one had drawn. He ducked under the dying crisp's desperate swing and kicked the man backward, tossing the knife again. The crisp shuffled for a few steps and then tripped onto the ground, gasping for air and trembling to stop the blood. Archer firmly took a hold of the arm of the next crisp, making sure he couldn't reach his pistol. Pistols were loud. He reached up with his foot to contain the crisp's longknife and placed both hands firmly on the right side of his head. Pushing down with his foot to create a pendulum, he threw all the might of his body into sending the crisp's head into the stone wall.

The crack was loud and splitting, and the crisp's eyes immediately rolled back in his head. The man fell to the floor with a low thump.

Archer caught his breath, watching the dead man for only a moment. He headed back to the first man and retrieved his knife. He couldn't do anything with the bodies; he would be a sitting duck wasting his strength at a time when such a thing was essential. He continued down the hallway, keeping his ears pricked for upcoming sounds, but the only ones he heard were the soft taps of his footsteps against the tile.

He rounded a corner quickly, knife at the ready. He rounded the next. His heart leaped wildly in his chest, pumping ferociously. In the corner, a mouse darted out from under a brick.

Archer's skin was cold to the touch, but his cheeks were flushed with terror. His whole body felt alive and deadly.

The piercing sound of a gunshot sent him flattening himself against the wall by reaction, listening for something—anything. Nothing.

He peeled himself off the wall and continued carefully down the hallway. If he could just find anything other than these damn hallways.

His feet made no noise as he darted down the long space, breaking into a run. He felt as though there was acid corroding away at his veins until he had no vessels left, and now the blood couldn't reach his brain. He sprinted around the next corner and the next, the hallways blurring in his vision. The gunshot startled him, as it should've. Now that there'd been a gun fired, there was no doubt that the King knew they were in the castle. The cover was blown; it was truly a game of mazes now.

Archer tried not to gasp too loudly for his breath as he ran. He rounded the next corner and crashed into someone at full speed, sending the other person stumbling backwards and leaving Archer dazed. He peered into the darkness, stunned that someone had managed to sneak up on him until he realized who it was.

"Lyra?"

"Archer!" she exclaimed, rubbing her collarbone where it had connected with his elbow. "Thank the angels, I thought that gunshot was for you!"

Archer shook his head quickly. "I don't know what happened."

Lyra turned around and pushed Archer down a certain hallway.

"How did you get away from Bardarian?" he questioned her.

"I didn't need to," she said. She led him down another hallway. "Silta told him there was no map and his head practically exploded. He's looking for you now."