Caught in the act

Diander Krall walked alone down the dark alleyways of Valen alone. He wore dark clothes that looked as though they had been scraped together. His boots where well worn, his tunic and trousers soiled from overuse with little upkeep, and the threadbare cloak draped over his shoulders was dusty. His beard was unkempt and his long hair hung down, barely obscuring the dark circles under his eyes. His haggard clothing and scruffy face told a tale all too common lately in the city: he was a spook.

"Spooks" in Valen, and the Kingdom of Lorean in general, was a term used to describe the dregs of society. Vagabonds, thieves and orphans, spooks were looked upon as less than human. Barely accepted over the rising leaper population, most spooks kept to their own kind. Those few who managed to enter the major cities across the realm did so at their own peril. King Varos had decreed that, if found, they be immediately sent to work "as an act of kindness." In reality, they became slaves to the lords of the cities, receiving less comfort than if they continued to live out their existence alone and dejected.

Diander pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and moved seamlessly from the alleyway into the pedestrian traffic on the market road. Cobblestoned and crowded, the market was a dangerous place for anyone who shouldn't be there. The marketplace had no alleys directly off it. Instead, the shops were tucked in at the end of a cul-de-sac, and patrolled by three pairs of Valen city watchmen. Keeping his head low, he made no attempt to hurry across traffic. Instead, Diander followed the ebb and flow of the crowd and stuck close to the street vendor stands.

As he made his way past a man selling produce, he reached out and swept an armful of fruit into a bag, and continued walking normally. A smile crept across his face as the first second passed, and then a second, and a third. As the distance between him and the vendor grew, he felt safer.

"Hey!" cried the vendor finally realizing what had happened. Diander swore to himself and picked up the pace. He could hear the vendor clamoring behind him, struggling against the crowd. He dare not look, if for no other reason than perhaps the vendor didn't know who had stolen the fruit. Then he felt the tug on his cloak, firm and definitive: the vendor knew who it was and had caught up to him.

Diander threw back his shoulders, the cloak coming undone, and took off as fast as he could. "Guards! Guards! Catch him!" Looking around quickly, he knew he was in for trouble. He still had a third of the circle to go to the exit, and only one of the three guard pairs where behind him. The closest set stood directly in his path, while another pair where in a good position to get to the only entrance to the market.

Dipping low he darted through the crowed street, zigging and zagging through the population. He misjudged the distance between two women, and they cried out as the svelte man shot between them, knocking goods from their arms. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were okay. In that instant a rotund man stepped into his path. He bounced off the man’s chest and fell to the ground. "Now where do you think you're going, spook?" The word was spoken with such rancor, it seemingly cut across the crowd. Diander looked up at the man and gave him a half-grin. "What’s so funn - oph!"

The breath left him as Diander kicked his heel firmly into his gut, and jumped to his feet. He took off running, knowing that the encounter with the large mad had cost him valuable seconds. He no longer darted around the crowd, and was no longer running half crouched. It was a sprint to the exit, and if he didn't beat the city watch, who knew what would happen. So focused on the lost time, he had lost sight of his pursuers. He didn't notice that they were almost upon him.

35 feet from the gate, he felt something wrap him around the waist, and suddenly he was jerked from the ground. Glancing down at the snare he saw the leather-clad arms of one of his pursuers. He could hear the second coming up fast. Thinking they must have split up to catch him in the crowd, his mind raced for a solution. He flailed wildly against his captors grasp, and the guard responded by tightening and leaning further back. "No!" he cried out, as the guard laughed. He could see the gates to the market starting to close.

"It'll be to Lord Kalin, with you spook," said the other guard as he joined the watchman holding Diander. He patted his partner on the shoulder. "Nice work." The crowd seemed to be pleased as well.

Suddenly, Diander went stiff. He kicked hard off the ground, sending the man holding him off balance and reeling into his companion. The slower of the two tried in vain to catch his friend, and Diander's captor threw out his arms for balance. Free once more, Diander bolted for the gates. The crowd was thickest here, where the patrons churned as they entered and exited the market. He scrambled hard against the resistant citizens. No one wanted to end up hurt, but no one wanted to let him escape either. As he pushed a larger man aside he saw that he had lost the race.

The gates stood closed, and the pair of watchmen who could cut him off had gotten there to stop him from trying to climb over it. The two he had just escaped from where coming up quickly. The crowd was thinning, not wanting to be near if the spook's capture turned violent. He looked down at the bag of fruit in his left hand and grimaced. Looking at the top of the gate, some 15 feet high, he knew there was no chance of a running jump.

Dainder pulled the fruit in close and ran towards the gate. The two guards smiled and readied their weapons as he closed the gap. He got 10 feet from the pair and stopped, collapsing into a crouch and placing his right hand flat on the cobblestone street. The air grew heavy and the light seemed to shrink away as shadows became thick, almost tangible. Diander's right hand shot out and his index and middle fingers pointed to the top of the gate. And then he vanished.

The stunned guards looked around in astonishment and the crowd let out a gasp. "Up there!" cried the two guards still pursuing him. They pointed at the top of the gate, where Diander stood hunched over, back to the market, panting. For a brief moment, there air hung with deafening silence. Only the spook on the gate could be heard, breathing heavily.

A man yelled out "Shade!" and those nearest the gate fled at full speed away. Panic gripped the market. Even the guards, who seconds before had been ready to attack and kill the spook, stepped back with fearful expressions. Dainder stood to his full height, and looked back over his left shoulder. His skin was drained of color, and now he seemed more gaunt then svelte. He frowned at the crowd’s reaction and leapt down off the gate.

He jogged away quickly, what remained of the crowd on the city side of the market gate parted quickly. Diander no longer feared capture. As loathsome and degenerate as spooks where in Lorean, shades where believed to be people touched by the demons of the world. He passed silently into the city, and eventually back into the alleys. He changed his route many times, doubled back and waited to ensure he was no longer being pursued. When he knew for certain it was clear, he collapsed against a wall and began to sob gently to himself.

After a few minutes, he collected himself, stood up, and continued to walk through the back streets. 15 minutes later he came across a group of children alone in the alley. The looked at him frightened, some running in fear, most just watching him. He reached into the sack, withdrew a green apple, and dropped the bag of fruit on the ground. As he turned and walked toward an intersection a soft "Thank you" followed him from a distance.

He wandered the city alleys without incident and made for the main city gates. Just as he was about to join the traffic out of the city, he froze. His eyes darted about but he did not move. Out from the shadows walked a pair of men, wearing robes that bore the mark of Lord Kalin. One held his right wrist in his left hand, his right hand facing palm up with the fingers curled into claws as if gripping something in the air. He muttered to himself in an archaic language that Diander recognized only as that of a Magus. The other's hand where folded in front of him.

"Lord Kalin is impressed, shade. It is not often that one such as you might walk within these walls," he smiled. "And even rarer is it that a shade can do more than muster false shadows to hide in," his silver tongue worked. The man in robes was a snake, sinisterly smiling and spitting lies and false adoration. Diander had faced some like him before. "Tell us, how did you manage that spectacular escape?"

"I will tell you nothing, Magus!" Diander spat.

"But why? We are not so different, you and us. We both abuse the arcane forces of this world for personal gain. At least we have found a higher purpose for ourselves. Why not join us?" the Magus asked.

Diander maintained eye contact with the speaker, but kept his captor in his periphery. The later was losing his hold over Diander. He could already move his fingers and had full range of motion through his neck. "Abuse for personal gain?" he laughed. "What personal gain? Do you see the fruit with me? Am I fat and nourished from it?"

"No, you gave it to those children. Very noble of you to feed them before they were caught and taken to work for Lord Kalin in his manor house."

Diander's eyes darkened. He had been followed, and he had carelessly gotten those children captured and turned into slaves. And this magus was mocking that fact. "If I were to come with you, what then?" he asked. He needed more time. The other magus was getting weaker. Diander clenched his fists. "Would I become a part of this higher purpose you speak of? To exert yourself through fear and power over the people of this world?"

The speaker shook his head. "No. You would be free to do as you would, so long as Lord Kalin approved."

The sweat was dripping from the captor's crooked nose now. "Then I wonder if he would appreciate this..." the shadows in the alley drew down, and a black bolt of energy shot from Diander's left fist towards his captor. He looked up just in time to see it close with him, and jumped aside, trying fruitlessly to avoid the attack.

"No!" cried the speaker, but it was too late - the captor's loss of concentration was enought for Diander to free himself. Diander's right hand waved across the front of him, and a wall of thick black shadow appeared. The two magi went to give chase but stopped short at the wall supposedly powered through demonic energy.

"Wait..." said the captor, looking down at his shirt. No damage had been done. He ran through the wall, but found the other side to be empty. The wall dissipated, and the two found they had failed to capture him.

"He is a strong one," the speaker said. "We'd best not let him get out of the city." They both walked out into the crowded streets and made for the main city gates, desperate to ensure such a dangerous treasure is released into the world.

© Copyright 2008 Mattsama (UN: mattsama at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Mattsama has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.