The Rogue Knight (5 page)

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Authors: Brandon Mull

BOOK: The Rogue Knight
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“I don't like you and I don't trust you,” Cole said. “I'm leaving. You'll never see me again. If you do, you better watch out.”

Ansel gave a dry laugh. “You just threatened me! That makes you the only living person to have done so.”

Several paces behind Cole, a door crashed open. Ham staggered through, breathing hard, face red, pate sweaty.

“Away,” Cole said, and he sprang back across the alley. He glanced down at Ansel. “Really?”

“I never agreed he wouldn't come up the other building,” Ansel said.

“Door at the top was locked,” Ham apologized.

“Leave me alone,” Cole said. “I'm not running because I'm guilty. I'm running because you're chasing me.”

Without waiting for a response, Cole pointed his sword, gave the command, and jumped to a more distant rooftop a couple of stories higher than his current position. Two more hops, and he found himself near a major street. After some brief reconnaissance, Cole jumped down into an empty alleyway adjoining the street. Trying to shake the suspicion that he was being watched and followed, he exited the alley and joined the crowd.

C
HAPTER

 5 

EAST CARTHAGE

A
s he made his way eastward through the streets of Carthage, Cole struggled to regain his composure. Without the Jumping Sword, Ansel would have nabbed him. Cole was unnervingly aware that he had almost become a slave again. It had been nice to pretend the freemark had ended that problem. But if Ansel cut off the hand with the freemark, what protection would he have?

Cole tried to look casual and blend in, but he kept flexing the fingers of his marked hand. It wouldn't stop shaking. He felt exposed. Should he have kept to the rooftops, using his Jumping Sword to put more distance between himself and Ansel? Or would that have only drawn more attention? Should he find a place to hide? Or would that just give Ansel time to catch up? Cole quickened his pace.

Ham had shown up out of nowhere. How many more of Ansel's people were already in pursuit? Cole strained to recall the different slavers from the caravan, watching for them in all directions.

Twitch had been right about crowds. There were too many eyes. Sure, you gained some anonymity among the big groups of people. But if you were being hunted, you ran the risk of crossing paths with the wrong person.

You also risked not seeing the people chasing you. In his imagination, Cole could almost feel the cool touch of steel as a wickedly sharp sickle slid across his throat from behind. He kept one hand near the Jumping Sword, ready to draw it and take off if needed, crowd or no crowd.

Would Ansel really sever his hand? What kind of a world was this? Cole's problems used to involve getting his homework done on time and coping with an annoying sister. Now he had enemies who wanted to chop him up and enslave him! The threat might have been a bluff to scare him into surrendering. But probably not. Cole had the shivery feeling that Ansel was capable of that much, and worse.

He wasn't sure whether to mesh with the crowds or avoid them. It all depended on how Ansel decided to search for him. The major streets seemed like the most obvious places to look, so Cole steered away from them. The smaller streets offered less cover, but he had a better chance of seeing trouble coming and jumping away without causing a scene.

As Cole progressed from block to block, the buildings around him began to look dilapidated. Sagging roofs, weathered surfaces, broken windows, and boarded-up doors all caught his eye. The people wore shabbier clothes. Several eyed him and his sword. One man with a growth of graying stubble on his face openly sized up Cole as he walked by. Cole tried not to pay too much attention to the man, but he couldn't help noticing when the stranger started following him.

Cole tried to heed Jace's advice. He needed to look like he belonged here. But he was young, he couldn't hide his sword, and though somewhat soiled, his clothes were nice. He knew he stood out.

At the next corner, Cole turned and moved along the cross street. He glanced back. The stubbly stranger still followed him, walking fast enough to shrink the distance between them. He saw Cole's glance and raised a hand, palm cupped. “Spare a ringer or two?” he asked.

Cole looked away. Taking out even a couple of ringers would reveal his stash. Cole imagined that if the people of this neighborhood knew how much cash he had on him, they would devour him like piranhas.

“Sorry,” Cole said over his shoulder.

The man broke into a shuffling jog. “Wait up, friend. Where are you heading?”

“To the east side of town,” Cole replied, unsure whether he should break into a run.

“East Carthage?” the man verified. “You took a bad turn, lad. This isn't a safe part of the city. You need a guide, or you're going to run into trouble.”

Cole's instincts warned that this man was the trouble. In a few more steps the man would catch up to him.

Drawing his sword, Cole stopped and faced the stranger, even though the man was head and shoulders taller than him. “Back off,” he said, forcing his voice to sound firm. “I'm having a bad day.”

The man raised both hands. “What's this? Are you coming into my neighborhood and threatening me?”

“I'm not looking for friends or guides,” Cole said. “Just leave me alone.”

The man's eyes switched to a spot above and beyond Cole. The man gave a faint nod. Cole looked back in time to see another man lunge at him. Jabbing his sword at a drooping balcony across the street, Cole spoke the command and jumped.

Hands reached for him, but they arrived too late. Cole took flight and barely cleared the scarred railing to land three floors above the ground. Both men gawked up at him from below, mouths gaping.

“You don't see that every day,” the stubbly man said. “Who'd have guessed he was some kind of shaper?”

The other man gave a dismissive wave and trudged away, shaking his head. They didn't seem to be partners. Acquaintances maybe. The other guy had sensed easy prey and had wanted in on the action.

Aiming his sword at the roof of the building across the street, Cole jumped there. From the higher vantage point, he had a better view of the area, though taller buildings blocked the sight of East Carthage. He ran along the roof and sprang to another building, then another.

It was freeing and exhilarating to watch the shabby streets breeze by beneath his feet, and for a moment, he actually let go of his anxiety and just enjoyed the sensation of soaring. Who could catch him when he had his Jumping Sword?

Cole worked his way toward a nicer neighborhood. On the sixth roof, he noticed a woman watering her plants. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Just passing through,” Cole called in his friendliest voice.

Her surprised expression turned scolding. “You're going to stab your eye out.”

Cole laughed and jumped again, sword outstretched toward the next desired rooftop. What a crazy world it was where a woman showed more worry about him poking his eye out with a sword than she did about him taking fifty-yard leaps from one building to another.

He avoided major roads, sailing over side streets and alleyways instead. Even so, some people down below looked up at him; others spotted him from balconies or windows; and a few saw him from the tops of buildings. And those were just the people Cole noticed! In Sambria, the sight of a kid leaping from one building to another might not seem impossible, but it still attracted attention. Cole liked that the sword let him travel quickly, putting distance between himself and Ansel, but he knew he needed to get back to the ground. Everyone who saw him flying across the rooftops became a possible resource to those who wanted to find him.

Cole reached the intersection of two main boulevards. To proceed by rooftop, he would have to jump one of the teeming avenues, exposing himself to hundreds of eyes, so instead he backtracked and hopped down into a quiet alley.

Although the sun was climbing higher, it remained low enough for Cole to tell east from west. As he continued eastward, the buildings rose taller. Some were apartments or inns. Others looked like private palaces sandwiched into the city, their grounds confined behind iron fences or stout masonry.

Some of the buildings were a little more mysterious. A huge domed structure with many minarets might have been a house of worship or a museum. A gray compound with thick towers, heavy arches, and crenellated walls could have served as a military headquarters or a prison. A light, airy complex with terraced gardens, elevated walkways, and huge-windowed buildings might have been a school or a library.

Much of the city looked how Cole pictured the Middle Ages. But some of the architecture felt a little more modern, and some didn't look much like anything he had seen back on Earth. One building was shaped like a pyramid, but with an open, pillared floor between each level, like stacked patios. He passed a windowless black monolith with no visible entrance. Another structure seemed to be made entirely of stained glass, and bulged with overlapping bulbous shapes, reminding Cole of when he used to blow through a straw into a glass of milk until the bubbles overflowed.

As he got farther east, more of the buildings looked like they must have been constructed by shapers. Not only were their forms unusual, but many were seamless, as if carved from a single mountainous stone. Some exteriors were smooth with simple lines and minimal embellishments. Others featured intricate facades. Autocoaches became more prevalent, and some of the shops mentioned renderings or semblances on the signs.

And then the city ended.

Cole reached a long greenway that paralleled a wide, slow river. The surface of the water was perhaps sixty feet below the level of the greenway, flanked by stone walls instead of banks.

If the architecture on this side of the river had been impressive, the other side looked absolutely unreal. The river wall on the far side was the color of storm clouds, with bright strands of lightning flashing across it on occasion. Fanciful buildings rose to surreal heights, shimmering with electric colors. Huge shapes balanced on slender supports, and ponderous projections overhung empty space with no regard for the laws of physics.

Mira had mentioned that the Ellowine enchanters worked with illusions. Though the buildings appeared completely solid, some of what he saw had to be deception.

Running north to south, the river effectively divided the city. Cole supposed that the far side must be East Carthage. From where he stood, Cole could see two bridges spanning the river. Down by the water, docks protruded here and there on both sides. Workers wrestled cargo onto long, flat barges. Some of those docks might have ferries for crossing the river, but the bridges struck Cole as the surer option.

Turning north, he followed the greenway toward the nearest bridge. It was a pleasant walk. The strip of lawn and trees along the river provided a place for toddlers to play, dogs to fetch, old folks to sit, and many to stroll. It would have been a great place to ride his bike. He wondered whether they had bikes in Carthage. He hadn't seen any.

As the bridge drew nearer, Cole frowned. Crossing it would be dangerous. If Ansel anticipated him going to East Carthage, the bridges would be the most obvious routes to watch. But East Carthage wasn't Cole's only option. He could have fled to the Sambrian countryside or hidden someplace in West Carthage.

Cole wished he had more information. How many slavers did Ansel currently have at his command? Ham was in town. How many others? All of them? And how long would it take Ansel to mobilize them?

Since his encounter with Ansel, Cole had come east by the most direct route he could find, using the Jumping Sword part of the way. Even if Ansel had enough men to cover all options, Cole might be ahead of any pursuers. The more time went by, the more likely it was that Ansel could position slavers at key locations like the bridges. Cole sped up.

The impressive bridge was carved from the same dark green stone as the city wall. Decorated with friezes and traceries, it looked the same all the way across. Did that mean the border to Elloweer was on the far side? The elaborate bridge had minimal supports, so it had probably been made by shaping. Though wide enough for wagons, the span was packed with people on foot, about half heading east, half west. A pair of soldiers rode across on horseback.

Alert for familiar faces, Cole started across the bridge. Vendors lined the edges, their wares spread out on blankets. They called out to the pedestrians, luring their attention toward melons, marionettes, sausages, and tiny wooden deer that walked around on their own.

On the Elloweer side, Cole's best weapon would be rendered useless. He hated the possibility of getting chased with no Jumping Sword to help him, but he had to get to the fountain, and the longer he waited, the riskier the crossing to Elloweer would become. Cole did his best to merge with the thickest clusters of people. He found a big man to follow and got close behind him.

At the midpoint of the bridge, Cole noticed a sign that read
ELLOWEER
in bright letters. Looking back, a sign facing the opposite direction announced
SAM
BRIA
.

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