Watchman's Quest: Portal Hunter Chronicles Book 1 by Craig Askham

Author:Craig Askham [Askham, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: White Lite Publishing
Published: 2019-07-24T22:00:00+00:00

Six

Ironshoulder dropped silently onto the lawn of the barracks. The shortcut had gone exactly as the prostitute had said it would, and he knew he was closer to the portal right now than he would have been if he’d travelled his usual route. A few troublemakers had been brave enough to try and rob him as he crossed the market, detaching themselves from the shadows and ghosting across the otherwise deserted plaza with wicked looking knives by their sides. He’d quickly discouraged them from thinking such thoughts, and instead sent them on their way with other, more pressing concerns to worry about.

So, here he was. A short sprint away from the merchant quarter, across the well-maintained grass that belonged to the king’s finest soldiers. If the Watchman hadn’t already diverted Pej and his charge from their path, there was a chance he could still intercept them before they made it to the portal. Admittedly, this was based on a couple of pretty large assumptions, not least of which was his rather rushed calculation regarding the speed at which he was travelling in comparison to his slower quarry. He was also assuming, of course, that he was going to make it over the wall on the other side of the lawn without getting caught. And if it turned out the Watchman had already diverted the gamer and his guide to the dungeons, then so be it. At least the portal would be safe from imminent discovery, and he’d have more time to gather whatever reinforcements would be deemed necessary to go about their rescue.

He paused on the springy lawn, breathing in its scent. The grass could only have been cut earlier in the day, and it smelt divine. Hidden from view by a statue of some queen or other that was half a head taller than he was, he peered around the stone mound of her breasts and watched the back of one of the dozen sentries he’d already spotted doing their rounds. As soon as he or she was out of sight around the corner of the barrack’s white-washed wall, he set off in a crouched run. Halfway to the wall he realised he’d misjudged it, hearing muffled conversation from the direction the sentry had disappeared in. His first instinct was to pause but he ignored it, instead digging his heels into the yielding turf to change direction. Speeding up, he went hell-for-leather in the direction of another statue, sliding to his knees like he was trying to reach the safety of first base after a particularly poor swipe at a baseball. He wasn’t much of a sportsman, and he had a lot of muscle to shift, but he skidded to a halt just as the same sentry he’d watched disappear came back into view, this time accompanied by whoever owned the second voice.

Ironshoulder climbed to his knees and waited, looking behind him at the trail of ruined grass in his wake. There were lanterns dotted about here and there, but they hopefully weren’t casting enough light for the soldiers to notice anything untoward.

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