The Destiny Detour

The Seer

Drake

Drake dove into an open room just before a flurry of guards stormed past, heading away from the Seer. Not being able to understand them was obnoxious, because they were moving with purpose, and Drake would rather know what that purpose was and where. Maybe the guards were flocking to help their commander, but a crackling nervous excitement told Drake they had a more important destination. Drake almost changed direction to follow them, but he let the feet pass by instead. He was well past time to check in with Rosaliy, and he did not appreciate being retasked mid-prison-break. Working with good people was impossible. Their noble goals operated under flimsy logistics.

A lone guard trotted his way, and Drake slipped behind a pillar. Who knew a hunt for some royal kids would lead here? Did doing bad things for good people make them good? He knew how this guard would answer that question.

Drake withdrew a knife and dove on the man from behind, wrenching the guard's arm backwards to render his spear useless and locking him in with the other, knife pointed at the man's neck. Still the man bleated out half a cry of surprise before the knife tightened further. Finally, the guard froze. He was larger than Drake, but being attacked from behind was unnerving enough for most people to react cautiously, especially anxious guards on a generally quiet shift.

"What's going on?" Drake hissed in the man's ear, wresting the spear from the guard's twisted arm and kicking it out of reach.

The back of the man's red head said nothing, although he did have a sun shaved into the back of his flaming red hair and matching sun ray tattoos cascading down his dark neck and shoulders.

Drake sighed. "Are you not answering because you're not answering, or because you don't understand me?"

"Dah terno?" the sun-tattooed man answered.

"Take me to the Seer," demanded Drake, changing his grip to Sun's arm and sliding the knife to his back.

"Seer? Arlana?" Sun asked warily, half turning.

"Eyes forward," Drake barked.

Sun raised his hands in surrender and pointed back the way he had come.

"Go," said Drake, scooping up his new not-friend's spear and encouraging him with a poke to the back.

Sun took the hint and ventured forward.

The narrow hallways opened up into something identifiably royal as they neared the southern corner of the palace. Scarves fluttered in the breeze, changing the light shining through them to filtered reds, purples, oranges, and blues. Pillars here bore intricate tops, and pedestals with vases and carvings were more frequent. They must have been keeping Arlana in the king's old rooms, either as a sign of terrified respect or as added insult.

Drake should have left his observation and location analysis for later. Sun had edged his way toward the side of a wide hallway, putting him in prime position to spin and surprise Drake with a well-deserved kick to the chest. Drake was jolted backwards into a door that flew open on impact. He flew until the hard floor of a side room stopped him. Sun slammed the door before Drake could even gasp in a breath. Drake rubbed his chest as he picked himself up.

As he scanned the room, he heard the distant sound of voices. His not-a-friend was explaining his prisoner to whoever was watching the Seer, Drake imagined. He heard footsteps down his hallway, moving too fast to make a plan.

Drake gripped the spear in one hand, the knife in the other, and he took up position by the door, ready to jump on the first person through.

The footsteps sped down the hall at a brisk walk—just one guard. Drake's hand tightened around his knife, and he pressed himself to the wall. Then the footsteps continued their quick walk straight by. Drake relaxed his grip, but not his tense worry. Was Sun leaving to wake a partner? Off to assemble a team? This did not bode well.