Unseen Secrets by S. B. Sebrick

Author:S. B. Sebrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sword and sorcery, Heroic Fantasy, fantasy adventure, fantasy mystery, Coming of Age, Other world Fantasy, mystery, action, adventure, epic fantasy, quest, magic, trilogy
Publisher: Golden Bullet Publishing
Published: 2014-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

"No!" Bahjal cried, emerging from the steam. The mist dragged wearily after her call, coating them both in warm liquid. Her whip quivered like a dying limb as she tried to strike, coiling too soon and flopping down between them. With a cry of defiance, she lurched forwards, trying to tackle them both with her small, hundred pound frame.

The Varadour stepped forward and slammed his foot into her diaphragm. She crashed to the ground instantly, gasping for air. Moisture pulled in around her like a cocoon of healing liquid, only the shear need for her own survival could pull her from Keevan's aid.

"This way," the Varadour insisted, dragging Keevan along by the neck.

In the distance, guards shouted in alarm and merchants scrambled away. Somehow, the Varadour found the open gate, slipping in to the Harbor Guild fortress just as the mist behind them faded. The Varadour stank of urine, unwashed flesh and feces. His limbs trembled, forcing Keevan to gasp for air every few seconds as the Varadour's shaking pinched Keevan's windpipe closed. A painful heat built up in his lungs from lack of air, forcing him to claw at his attacker's arms.

"I'm so sorry, Sight Seeker," the Varadour apologized. His grip loosened enough for Keevan to breathe properly. He still dragged Keevan along like a bag of potatoes. They turned down one alley, then another, as if at random. Unless the man had somehow memorized the place. "Please don't scream. We have much to discuss. Give me a moment to find us a quiet corner."

"You just cut through a half dozen guards. They'll-" Keevan hissed in pain, urging his feet to keep up with his captor's pace. He only accomplished getting dragged another dozen yards across the stone floor, jostling his airway again. Around them, echoes of heavy boots, draw steel and horns of alarm bellowed through the stone passages.

"Hold that thought," the Varadour insisted. "Here perhaps?"

Flipping open the latch with his foot, he pushed the oak door open. Black shadows of a narrow storage place hung open before them like the maw of some beast. Broken tools, sacks of supplies and bottles of every size lined the shelves on either end. The shelves gave way to a tangle of buckets, mops and brooms at the closets' far end.

"Perfect," the Varadour said, pushing Keevan into the narrow space. "Go all the way to the back. Sit alongside the shelves on the left side, I'll take the right," Keevan walked half the distance, massaging his throat, before glancing over his shoulder at the hallway behind his captor.

"That girl was a friend of yours I take it?" the Varadour asked, his eyes and tone flashing dangerously. Keevan nodded wordlessly.

"Be glad I didn't kill her, then," the Varadour said, shutting the door behind him as he entered, plunging them into the darkness. "Also, consider how many more you would be forcing me to kill if you sound the alarm."

"What alarm?" Keevan grumbled. Flinching as he felt the Varadour's hand on his back.

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