The Lost Heir's

Chapter Thirteen

Rhosyn noticed she was holding her breath the entire time. When they entered the adjacent alley, she let out a gust of air as she panted heavily. Together they continued, slowly sneaking their way behind buildings and warehouses. Their progress was slow. By the time they reached the Bits, an hour had passed. The large, beautiful houses slowly becoming seedier and seedier.

Saffir let out a little cheer as they saw a familiar sight in the old clock tower. The empty square opening up at the end of the alley they skulked in.

“We are nearly there!”

“Stay calm, Saffir. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”

“But look, there’s no one around.” Saffir stepped out of cover and entered the square.

“Saff! Get back here.” Rhosyn hissed.

But it was too late. As soon as she left the safety of the dark, two rough looking men dressed in dark armor grabbed her from behind. They stifled her screams, stuffing her mouth with a rag and binding her arms behind her back.

“Agg, grab the witch.” The voice was cold, professional.

“Right boss.” The other replied gruffly and drew a glittering sword.

Rhosyn backed up, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the blade. It reeked of magic, she thought, feeling the aura emanating from its edge. She backed away, her eyes growing harder as she saw the other man pull Saffir’s arm back, creating a squeal of pain.

Rhosyn stopped, anger swelling up in her. “Let her go this instant!”

“And I will, if you come quietly.” The cold-faced man drew a serrated dagger from his belt. “I am a sellsword, devil. I’m just here for your kind, not for little girls.”

Saffir fought against the sellsword's grip, stopping only when the dagger was at her neck. “Clearly you give a damn about her. So, what is it going to be?”

Rhosyn clenched her fist, feeling her nails cut into her palm. She looked at Saffir, who shrunk away from the vicious-looking dagger and felt shame. It was her fault she was in this position, it was her fault that she now had a blade to her throat. She hung her head and pulled down her hood, letting her snowy locks tumble into view.

“Alright,”

The sellsword gestured with his head. “That’s a knife-ear alright.” He commented, using a human insult. “Agg, get some bindings on her and a gag.”

“Right boss.” He said again, moving quickly.

The sellsword sighed and cut Saffir free. “The deal is done, let's bring her in.”

Saffir immediately pulled the rag out of her mouth. “Wait, don’t take her away! Please.”

The sellsword shrugged as he calmly watched Rhosyn be bonded. “I'm just doing what I am paid to do, little girl. Unless you plan to pay me more for her, your whining is on deaf ears.”

Saffir clutched at his mailed arm as he pulled Rhosyn away. “But she didn’t do anything wrong, sir!”

The man opened his mouth, but whatever he came to say was never spoken as a troop of black-robed priests came into view. The sellsword turned to face the group, brandishing Rhosyn in front of him like a trophy. One of the priests came forward, a sickly-looking man with a matted beard.

“Well, well, well. Dett the Knife managed to catch our quarry.” His smile was disgusting.

“That I did.” The sellsword named Dett replied blandly while holding out his hand, palm outstretched. “Two hundred crowns, please.”

The smile on the priest faded away. “We agreed on one hundred and no more!”

“We agreed on a witch, not a knife-eared devil. Two hundred for a nonhuman’s head.”

The priest’s face was pinched with fury. “You dare try and fleece a man of the cloth?!”

Dett’s face was calm, unruffled by the old man’s sudden rage. “I dare take what I am owed.”

The sickly priest stood upright; his wrinkled eyes wild. “I command you to hand over that demon, or you’ll burn with her!”

Dett was silent, his face immobile and like cold granite. Without pause, he pulled Rhosyn to his side. And, in full view of everyone, he took his dagger and expertly cut Rhosyn’s bonds, freeing her.

“Oops.” He said absently. “looks like she got loose.”

Rhosyn was shocked for only a moment. She looked at Dett once before bolting in the opposite direction, grabbing Saffir’s hand on the way. She only looked back once, seeing the priest’s mouth agape before bellowing orders to his underlings. Some went to give chase. But Dett struck them down with the pommel of his dagger, breaking the noses of both and leaving them writhing on the floor.

“Let’s call this a failure to communicate.” He shouted over the ensuing rabble.

“Just run, Saff!”

The rest of the chase was a blur to Rhosyn, alleyways and streets nothing more than an ephemeral fog, with nothing but the sound of panting and roaring voices all around her. But she kept on running, pushing herself faster and faster.

It was only when the path stopped, ending with a stone wall that loomed over her like a giant. She turned, looking for another way out. But the way they came was already blocked by a group of black-robed zealots, their blades low and eyes burning.

“You’ve nowhere to run!” they barked.

She looked at Saffir, her eyes welling up as she held her hand. “Get out of here, Rose.”

“Not without you!”

“You can’t with me,” tears were running freely down her cheek. “It’s OK, they are after you, not me.”

Rhosyn looked at her, then the priests and bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

With one leap, she vaulted up the wall in inhuman bounds, gripping the stone with her fingers until she was at the top. With one more glance at her friend, she disappeared over the edge, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’ll come back for you; I promise.” she whispered before she fled the scene.

“Look, you devil,” The man holding her said calmly. “You are as good as caught, the entire city is out for your blood, and the church is now on your scent like a bloodhound. Give us no more trouble, and she goes free.”

Rhosyn didn’t know what to do.