The Winter Sun

Chapter 37

Lach's eyes peered behind the alley wall. The soldiers swarmed the street, and it was only a question of time before they were discovered. The seconds dropped like the blood in his veins. He could feel the stiffness of Amaya's body blazing through him. The heavy metal clacks of their boots only got louder, clouding Lach's mind. He paused, eyes closed. The tavern was located on the other side. They would need to cross the street. Sinking backward in the narrow alley they entered was an idea, too, but they had no place to hide. Lach combed his brain, his thoughts whirling at the same rate as his heartbeat, before his eyes fell on the potato sacks full of ropes.

Zakrus scrutinized every face passing next to him. Soldiers were already barging into taverns and shops all around him. His gaze was so tight it pulled his burned scar across his face. Citizens evaporated away just with one of his stares. His reputation trailed behind him like a shadow. A man with slick black hair and long limbs, so tall his head picked from the crowd, lured his attention. He narrowed his gaze. Was it- "Hey!" he grabbed the man by his collar and yanked him so he could face him. Fearful blue eyes stared back at him, the white of his eyes so vast it was like the first frost of winter. The man mumbled his fear into an incoherent gibberish, and Zakrus' nose shrunk. He shoved him, spurring a yelp from the man, who scurried away like a rat. Zakrus kept scrutinizing the crowd. A woman with a child. Old men. Children again. A man with a back curved carrying a potato sack, his hair shielded by a scarf of the same material. Zakrus groaned internally, and his stare trailed behind someone else.

The man with the curved back stopped inside an alley, putting his sack on the cobblestones. It shifted. "Wait," the man said, snatching away the scarf- a potato sack transformed into a makeshift scarf. Lach panted as he opened the bag. Black curls picked from inside before Amaya let out a big inspiration as if she just emerged from water.

"I couldn't breathe in there." She reached for Lach's opened palm. "I can't believe we did that."

"Me neither. But it worked." He pulled her to her feet and glanced over his shoulder. The silver armor shone behind. "Let's not waste time." They sunk into the alley.

Zakrus stepped into an alley, and his narrowed at the sight of ropes carelessly scattered on the floor. He spun on himself as if a ghost had passed behind him.

When they returned to the tavern, Kristina welcomed them with a tight frown.

"What happened?" Lach asked.

"Soldiers," she said, and fear hugged Lach tightly. "They came here and rummaged everything. Our boxes, our bags, and every corner of the tavern." Kristina said, rearranging her hat with fidgety hands. That was when Lach noticed her shipmates picking up shards of broken glass and wood and pieces of crushed food.

Lach swallowed thickly. "They did say what they were looking for?"

Kristina shook her head. "They didn't, but surely, they came for you." Her eyes flickered to Amaya, knowing and almost bitter. "Fortunately, they hadn't found our plans.

"Greine pulled them in her pants." The shipmate who had taken care of Amaya's injuries took out the yellowish paper with the sea map." Lach hadn't time to be horrified by that act.

"Zakrus was there," Bett added, picking up a shard of broken glass and scrunching their nose.

"They will come back." Fear was heated in Amaya's voice. "Zakrus knows I am here. He found a way to follow us until here."

Lach's shoulders tensed. "Then, we have to go."

Kristina let out a hard chuckle, none like the ones from last night. This time, there was nothing humorous in it. "With half of our supply gone?" She held a crashed corn. "You can dream." She then paused as if remembering something. "Where are the ropes?"