Manhunt

Into The Night

Ryiah hastily skipped up the emergency stairs, halting in front of the door. This one door was the only thing left that stood between her and her freedom. Breathing heavily, she glanced over her shoulder, listening if someone was following her, but was greeted with silence.

Wetting her lips, Ryiah reached for the handle and pressed it down. With a click of the lock she pushed the door ajar, taking a cautious peek through it Ryiah made sure the path was clear before she would dash into the night.

The street was quiet, lamps shed a yellow light on the area, and Ryiah could see no one was out at this time of the night. Stepping out of the doorway, Ryiah closed the door behind her, taking one final glance around her before sprinting across the street toward the park. 

In her mind, she went through every possible place she could go, to rent a room for she really needed a good night rest after going through all this.  After the much-needed sleep, she would think of a way to find the information she needed.

Jogging through the big iron gates Ryiah entered the park and kept going, not even stopping for a break. The park was old, giant oaks and maple trees growing there giving it an almost forest-like look. In the centre, the founders of this park had built the lake and small island in the middle of it. On the island grew another Shrine Willow with crimson leaves and crows had made it their home. Like crows, Shrine Willows were sacred, as it was believed ancient prophets offered their souls to the tree when they died and their souls gave the tree´s leaves their unique colour.

But Ryiah doubted that explanation. How could anything with such a colour that reminded her of blood be holy?

The sand rustled under her boots as Ryiah approached the other end of the park, which led her in the older part of the city. The buildings there were made of timber, the roads were sandy and it was known to be the spot where the elderly people who preferred to live like in the old times rather than moving into modern homes. The district was called Midtown Kiodri, Ryiah knew she would be safe there.

Ryiah finally reached the other end of the park and it felt like she had stepped into a time machine that took her a hundred years back in time. 

Yellow, red and green two-story houses greeted her as soon as she walked across the street. Unlike in the North Rimoc or Seraird Boulevard, which were the richest districts in Carran, people secured their houses with high iron fences or brick walls, but here round pole fences separated each front yard from the streets making Ryiah smile.

Lanterns lightened her way while she ambled through the sandy main street and looked around.

The tall, wide windows which allowed enough light to stream through the homes were placed symmetrically. Although people living here preferred old ways, there was still electricity. Ryiah could see that because the lamps above each front door shone brightly without flickering.

Between the houses were narrow paths leading into secret places only the residents knew about, and the inner child in Ryiah wanted to go and explore where those zig-zagging paths would lead her. 

But she refused to do so, respecting the privacy of these people. Instead, Ryiah quickened her pace and finally reached the end of the main road and found herself standing in the middle of a crossroad.

Looking right and left she pondered where the inn located when a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning swiftly to the left Ryiah came face to face with a young-looking boy who stared at her with wide eyes.

For a moment Ryiah merely stared at him back before the look on her face changed and with a frown, Ryiah looked up and down wetting her lips.

“Aren´t you supposed to be home and sleeping, boy?” Ryiah questioned tilting her head slightly earning a huff from the boy.

“No. I am the guardian of this area. I could ask the same thing from you, girl.”

Ryiah chuckled at the sassy reply and kneeled in front of him, seeing the annoyed look on his face as if she had just insulted him.

The boy didn´t look more than 8 years old, with dark, long and wild hair. He had freckles on his nose and cheeks making him look rather adorable, but the bright green eyes held an unnerving gaze and dark brows knitted together intensified that look and it would make weaker humans squirm under it. But for Ryiah it had a little effect. If anything, it amused her.

“I´m a hitman. What are you going to do about it, guardian?” Ryiah mused while straightening herself.

The question threw the boy out of balance and for a second Ryiah could see a flash of pure panic in his eyes before he collected himself and looked confused as he stared at Ryiah up and down.

“A hitman? But you´re dressed as a priest,” the boy declared, pointing his finger directly at Ryiah´s face. Lifting her brow, Ryiah looked at the finger for a moment and then shifted her gaze back on the boy's eyes.

“A minister, actually.” she sneered pocketing her hands in her trousers seeing a confused expression flickering on his face.

“What kind of hitman dressed up as a minister?”

“A confident one.”

“Or a very stupid one.” the boy muttered and suddenly drew his wooden sword, pointing it at Ryiah who blinked, looking surprised.

“But I will stop you, minister or hitman, or whatever you claim to be. I am a guardian of this town.” the boy declared, taking a fighting position.

Ryiah laughed at that remark, her eyes glinting with humour as she took one step forward and with a smirk she suddenly grabbed the boy's wrist while taking the sword from him. Pointing the sword at him, Ryiah gazed at the child who was utterly dumbfounded at the sudden action. Staring at his hand and then at Ryiah who held his sword the boy's face lit up.

“Wow! You have to teach me how to do that!” he squealed excitedly, earning Ryiah to snort at his enthusiastic behaviour.

“Maybe I will. But first I need something from you.”

“Anything!”

“Careful. Don´t make promises you can´t keep.” Ryiah warned him while lowering the sword and handed it back to him.

“What´s your name?” She then asked.

“Cassair,” he answered proudly puffing his small chest as he tucked the sword on his belt, earning another giggle from her.

“Mine is…Ríona.” Ryiah decided to play it safe and give him a false name.

“Cool name. What is it that you need?” Cassair asked, pursing his lips. Smiling, Ryiah looked briefly around before settling her gaze on him.

“I need a place to stay for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks.”

Cassair pondered the options and then he smiled broadly turning around pointing to his right.

“Old Nana keeps a small inn and I know for a fact there is a room available. Follow me!”

Ryiah shook her head but followed him down the street. 

She was sceptical, she would have the room tonight, it was way past midnight and only big hotels kept their doors open around the clock. But Ryiah didn´t want to disappoint the boy by telling him that.

“Why are you up so late? I´m sure if your parents knew they would lock the doors and windows. it´s not safe for you to be roaming around at this hour.” Ryiah finally asked. The clothes on Cassair told her, this was something he did almost every night.

“I can´t sleep at night. I sneak out when I know everyone is sleeping.” Cassair didn´t give her any specific reason why he couldn´t sleep, but Ryiah settled for that. 

She knew various reasons why someone would have trouble sleeping; she was one of them.

They walked forward, comfortable silence falling between them. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance was the only thing Ryiah could hear. 

One more turn and she found herself in front of a house that looked very old but still gorgeous. It had been built with red pine wood and had white cedar wooden decorations. Small, octagon windows let in plenty of light and had been added to the house in a mostly symmetric way.

The building was rectangular shaped. Wooden overhanging panels partially surrounded the house on two sides. The second floor looked smaller than the first, which allowed for several balconies on the sides of the house.  The roof was low and pyramid-shaped and was covered with black ceramic tiles. Two large chimneys poke out the centre of the roof and no windows on the roof. 

The house itself was surrounded by a well-kept garden, with a grass field and flower patches at the edges of the garden.

From outside, no one could guess it was an inn because it didn´t look like one. The only hint was a sign that hung above the door which said “The Seeker´s Inn”. 

Much to her surprise, there was light inside the house and when Cassair skipped the stairs onto the front porch and rang the bell, someone came to open the door. The lady who stood at the doorway with a warm smile and twinkling eyes, looked down at the boy with a chuckle while wrapping her silky, light red nightgown around her firmly.

“On another of your little adventures, Cassair?”

“You know me, Nana!” Cassair grinned widely tucking his hands into his pockets.

“And who is this you bring to my doorsteps?” Nana asked curiously as she shifted her gaze to Ryiah, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs watching the exchange amusingly.

“She is Ríona and she is a minister! She needs a room for a while.” the boy told her earning a brow lift from the elderly woman.

“A minister you say. You should know better than bring one to my inn, Cassair. You are supposed to be the guardian.” Nana chuckled but motioned Ryiah to come closer.

“Come in, dear. Cassair has a wild imagination, but he is harmless.” Nana smiled as Ryiah accepted the invitation but couldn´t help but chuckle when she heard the woman's whispering.

“Most of the time.”

Placing her hand on Ryiah´s lower back, Nana guided her further in but then glanced at Cassair who was still standing at the porch.

“And you, young man, off to home before I call your parents and tell them what you have been up to.”

With that Cassair´s face fell and with a hasty goodbye he twirled around, dashing down the street, disappearing into the night and back home.

“Let's get you settled.” Nana hummed to Ryiah, who merely smiled at the elderly woman and watched as Nana closed the door.

“Are you really a minister?” old Nana asked as she escorted Ryiah through the living room toward the spiralling staircase.

“No.” Ryiah hummed.

“You could have fooled me. You are dressed as one.”

“Yes, well, I had to discard my clothes, and these were the only ones available,” Ryiah muttered glancing at Nana who glanced over her shoulder smiling at her.

Old Nana didn´t ask anything else and Ryiah was glad about it while following her upstairs.

                                                                                  ~~~~

Bernand walked the stairs down and through the long passage ending onto the staircase leading on the courtyard. Climbing the stairs he suddenly halted and frowned. 

The door was open. 

His heart started pounding in his chest as he carefully opened it fully and stepped in the yard. Looking around he didn´t see Ryiah anywhere. Dashing forward all thoughts abandoning him, Bernad ran over the spot where he had left the female assassin but found only the cut ropes on the ground.

“That little b***h!” 

He cursed, anger bubbling inside of him, but then he froze. If Father Silverius would find out the assassin escaped because he had carelessly left the door ajar, he would lose his head. 

Bernand pulled his hair, a groan leaving him. 

That bloody Valentianus! 

If only he hadn´t summoned Bernand and the minister wouldn´t insist to come, this would not have happened.

“f**k!” He shouted, twirling around and dashing back inside hoping to be able to catch the woman before Father Silverius would hear the assassin had escaped.

Running as if a wildfire was on his heels, Bernand sprinted through the corridors. Skipping the stairs, he ended up back in the main hall, completely out of breath, he looked frantically around but confusion replaced his panic as he watched ministers scurrying around like squirrels.

For a moment Bernand was frozen on his spot until one young minister hurried past him and Bernand gripped his upper arm stopping the young man.

“What is going on?” Bernand asked quietly, yet with desperation, staring at the man's bewildered face before the young minister gained his ability to speak.

“Haven´t you heard? There's a rogue assassin on the loose. Father Silverius is furious. Everyone is ordered to make sure they don´t get to our archive.”

Bernand nearly stumbled while his brows shot up. 

How did they already know about the female assassin's escape? 

That was impossible. 

No one was in the lower levels and very few had permission to check the yard and he hadn´t seen any of those persons today. 

But then Bernand paused and gave the minister a confused look.

“Archive? Why does Father Silverius assume the assassin would want to go there?”

The House's archive contained every file of the past two hundred years of prayers offerings to the Faith, who they were and what they offered. Files also were telling the names of the prophets and ancient texts of the teachings and myths about the Four Gods. They had the records of the holy founders of the House of Valor and other important information about the priests and holy men. But after the disaster fifty years ago, they removed those files to another location which stayed as a secret.

Bernand wetted his lips. To think someone had thought to fraud the name of the highest priest's name on the execution documents and ended up slaughtering countless innocent highborn families. The reason behind it was resentment and taking revenge upon the rich people. This person had been a minister, grown in a poor family, and never understood why no one wanted to help his family. 

The man's hatred toward the people who were more fortunate than his family only grew over the years, and to take revenge on them, he turned to the House of Valor. The priest who took pity on him allowed the man to start working in their care, climbing up on the ladder he became the most respected minister of their time, but he was blinded by his rage and failed to see what he had built for himself and his family.

Bernard shook his head and turned his attention to the minister.

“Who is this assassin?” he mumbled.

“I don´t know, all I heard from Father Silverius that no matter what, he mustn´t get his hands on the files in the archive.”

“He?”

“Yes.”

Bernand let go of the minister who turned immediately and hastily headed toward the staircase that led into the archive.

So, there was more than one rogue assassin in this city. 

Was this a good thing or a bad thing Bernand didn´t know yet. 

It would definitely turn bad if she decided to join this new assassin. 

What would stop her? 

Nothing. 

That would cause a lot of problems.

He should either track down the male assassin before he would find her or get rid of them both. 

Groaning, Bernand rubbed his face. None of the options were appealing. 

There was always the third choice. 

Bernand could always bargain with the male assassin and try to get help for saving the family he was supposed to get rid of and killing the female assassin.

But that required for Bernand to know what the man was after. 

Stopping his hands, Bernand lowered them slowly, and a smile formed on his face. 

An idea hit him.

 It was reckless and stupid, but if it worked at the end of this week, Bernand would have two things less to worry about.

“That could work,” he muttered to himself. Glancing around, he saw that no one was paying attention to him.  Bernand headed toward the archive number 3, which held all the names of signed assassins from the past 50 years. 

If he was lucky, there would be a red stamp on the file that said, rogue. 

Then he would have a name and he could send a word out he was looking for this man.

It was a long shot and a very risky one too. If Father Silverius would find out he was planning on making a deal with a rogue assassin to save his skin and cover up his mistake, Bernand would surely lose his head, or suffer a fate even worse.

It was a risky plan, but hopefully worth it.

Suddenly, another thought came to his mind. 

How did Father Silverius know the assassin was a male? 

Cold shivers ran through his spine. He was about to enter deep waters and Bernand wasn´t suddenly so sure if he had the skills to stay afloat. Swallowing, he entered the dark corridor, praying for the first time in a long time for God Cian to help him.