The Ghost's Crusade

Chapter VI: Tiernan

He hadn't been in Baedorn for long but he knew the direction they were headed in was not a good one. The line they were following as they chased after the Enkiri lead directly east from the keep and right into the filthy warrens of Cheapside. A fair share of the bodies that had been found over the past month had been found in Cheapside, or in places nearby with quick and easy escape routes into Cheapside.

Tiernan didn't have to make a guess as to how the chase was going to turn out. Badly.

And yet he still ran right along after Drystan's Enkiri friend. It hadn't even occurred to him to stay put and send word for reinforcements.

What's gotten in to me? This is insane.

It surprised him that Akkali was so light-footed. She hardly made a sound even though she was running full-tilt down a maze of back alleys filled with puddles of water and... liquid that was definitely not water. Even Drystan was quicker and quieter than he remembered, though now the man was clad in a leather tunic and riding boots, not the weighted plate mail they had been made to wear throughout their training days to build up their strength.

Dressed head to toe in the formal Inquisitor regalia he had been required to wear to the Ovan's keep, Tiernan was tiring quick and sounded like a moving armory. One wasn't meant to sprint through narrow places wearing ring mail, full padding, a heavy surcoat, and plate greaves. He was surprised he hadn't tripped over his own feet yet, but his elbows were continually slamming against the building walls. Perhaps it was a good thing they were heavily armored after all.

Sliding to a halt Akkali came to a half-open door in the back of what Tiernan knew to be a pub that catered to all manner of cutthroats and flesh peddlers. Since the city had gone relatively quiet no one had heard much out of Cheapside, especially since the raiders in the countryside had been dwindling. It was their kind that liked to frequent this pub, which meant it had seen a dramatic drop in patronage over the past month. He wasn't surprised that it was quiet, but the complete lack of drunken brawling was what gave him pause. There had always a fight, or a brewing fight, going on in the place from what he could tell. The stack of broken, irreparable furniture pieces in the alley, presumably snapped over the backs or heads of any number of patrons, was half as high as he was tall.

A cold look from the Enkiri told him if he came any closer to where she stood she would run one of her sticks through his eye. He had never seen weapons like hers before, but the sharpened points would easily find their way straight through the links in his mail. Instead he waited for Drystan to overtake him and let him approach first, wary of what else she was capable of. Now wasn't the time or place to press his luck.

Drystan looked at the door briefly, then shook his head. Akkali kicked it open the second after and strode inside as though she were the owner of the entire pub. Drystan followed in afterward, and Tiernan brought up the rear after giving the alley one last survey for any hints of life.

There wasn't even a fly.

As soon as he set foot over the threshold he felt something was fundamentally wrong. The air was curiously still and smelled of sweaty tunics laundered in bad ale and then hung out to dry over a hog pen in summer. It was starting to make his stomach turn sour. He caught sight of Drystan's sandy blond head threading among the stacked kegs and followed along after him.

For a dive in Cheapside, the gray rats that thrived on the garbage in the streets and sewers were conspicuously absent. As was any sign of them in the dust lining the barrels and the floors near the larder on the opposite side of the room. In fact, aside from the prints Drystan and Akkali were leaving in their wake there was absolutely no sign that anyone or anything had been in the back room for well over a week guessing by the crispy stale bread left atop a keg near the door.