The Blades

Chapter One

"Atla," a voice called in a whisper so soft, I almost didn't catch it over my racket.

I froze.

I didn't hear it again. Was it my imagination? Atla was definitely my name but no one in this dungeon knew it. I think they thought my name was Hadrien, which was what I went by a few years back.

I sat back, going over my escape plan in my head. I had been planning for months.

Step One: Get a key. That's all I got.

That was a problem since keys don't fall from the sky—or ceiling in my case. So, there I was, alone in the darkness, wondering if I could ever escape before my execution. Yep. Execution. I had this "bad" habit of murdering people that beat their spouses or their children. This apparently labeled me as a "danger to society" and the crown wanted my head.

Alone with my thoughts, I fell asleep, my head resting on my chest as I slept. It wasn't a normal sleep but more like a dreamless trance. Almost half awake, I felt as if I was being hunted.

A pinging noise intruded my thoughts. It was the sound of a small metal object flying towards me, bouncing off the stone. It hit my leg and I snatched at the...thingy. It wasn't anything I ever dreamed would happen. No way was it a key. The cold metal and the shape told me it was.

Unexpected. To say the least. Was it a trap? Probably.

With some impressive acrobatics—which involved putting my foot behind my head—I placed the key into the lock on my cuffs and they fell away with a clank. I swore softly but stood up and began creeping towards my cell door. I waited to see if I attracted any guards, but no one came.

Unlocking the door from the inside, I pushed it open. The equipment I had when they caught me was likely long gone, probably tossed away, so I was left with my bloody prison rags.

I moved on in the directions of the stairs. The dank, musty smell of earth told me that I was underground, but I knew that already.

I sensed from the edge of my vision, a shape, darker than the dungeon itself, slip around the corner. Some wild side of me told me to follow it. Yeah, I know; I'm nuts. I moved silently across the room, tailing the person and it occurred to me that maybe they had given me the key. There was a long hallway and at the end was a torch.

The figure passed through the light, which flickered as its cloak whipped through the air around it. It was fast, gone before I could get a better look. I broke into a sprint, bounding up the stairs quickly, longing to breathe the fresh air. My calves ached and my lungs burned as I ran but the door was close. I paused at the top, inhaling the fresh air. Of being higher in altitude. I was at the door where I got caught before.

The figure had left it cracked. I reached out and pushed it, ready to be free.

There, on the threshold, stood Alekai, ugly as ever, and accompanied by six soldiers. What a cliché moment. Getting caught again at the grand escape. They gaped at me and I grinned, despite being trapped. It occurred to me that they had no idea I had escaped. The figure was alone in its motives. It was dark outside and stars glinted overhead. Breathing free air was something I thought I'd never have again. The figure wasn't there and seemed to have missed Alekai by a few seconds.

"Good evening, Hadrien. Lose something? Your chains perhaps?" Alekai leered maliciously as the shock evaporated from his face.

Who is Hadrien? Oh wait, that's me. I remembered, getting over my initial brain lapse where I forgot my fake name. I chuckled lightly, "I could say something heroic about 'never being chained down' or 'my memory will always be free' but that is just stupid and frankly, heroics get people killed." I returned his smirk. My eyes suddenly darted to a moving shape out of the corner of my eye. It was the figure, casting a shadow from the hanging lantern as it moved down an alley across the cobbled street and out of sight. I had an urge to give chase.

Alekai's sneer didn't fade but grew wider and he spoke to his guards, eyes still on me, "Why don't we play a little game? It's simple. You run, if we catch you, you die."

"Well, that's no fair." I was stalling for time. The time to secure my grand escape plan. I had a concept of one. It was mostly: "run and don't die."

"You murder people. Fair isn't a word I would expect you to know," he said. Without those frown lines on his face, he would have been decently attractive.

"I hate it when you make good points." I pouted.

"All right let's start this game before you can stall anymore," he growled. I hesitated. "What are you waiting for, girl? Run!" he hissed and my legs began to move, racing down the alley, following the figure.

I dashed between houses, skidding around corners as a bell sounded for reinforcements. I should have known he wouldn't be the one to play fair. I turned another corner. And almost smacked into a brick wall.

Dead end.

The wall stretched high above my head. I backed up, preparing for a running start. I was rusty, sure but always had a knack for climbing. I began a sprint, jumped, then kicked up the wall. Breathing heavily, I crouched on the ledge, hidden in shadows below the overhang of the roof. The effects of my imprisonment had taken its toll and I was exhausted. I clapped a hand over my mouth to staunch the sound of my breathing. Hopefully, I was out of sight. Sounds of pursuit were on one side of the wall. The other had torchlight, moving closer. I was trapped. I stood, very carefully, shielded by darkness. There was the roof above, just out of reach. I jumped and grabbed the edge, hauling myself up and over and I lay, out of sight, just in time.

"She's gone, sir!" a voice shouted from below.

"Find her or it's your head over hers!" Alekai's voice barked in return. There was a distinct sound of someone getting slapped and I instinctively flinched.

I released my breath and stood up. There, across the rooftops, bathed in the light of the two full moons, was the figure, cloak drifting lazily in the salty breeze off the sea. There was a road between us, patrolled by guards, all looking for me. I could tell it was a "him" because of his build. A thick rope, clothesline, hung tight across. I had managed to cross one just like it many years ago—and almost died in the process. Otherwise, there was no other way. I began my movements, quickly moving across. Once or twice I felt the rope quiver slightly and my heart jumped into my throat but I made it and stood up straight on the other side.

I opened my mouth to thank the figure, but before I could muster a word, he was gone, streaking away across rooftops. Why was he running? Did he want me to follow him? I followed shortly, jumping gaps between roofs, climbing up walls, and running until he halted. It was the last wall before the harbor. Water stood below the other side of the stone. There he was, his back to me. I stopped, out of breath. Man, I'm out of shape.

Without warning, he jumped. I raced to the edge and looked over. Nothing. No water rings. Just a sewer pipe opening. He had to have gone in there. I climbed over the small railing and made my way down the wall, gripping useful little footholds I found here and there.

I straightened up in the pipe, bathed in just enough moonlight to see. Suddenly, I felt a sharp prick in my neck and the ground began to sway under my feet. I clawed at the needle pressing into my skin and ripped it out. Toxic dart. I looked around for the figure and saw him. His hood was down and I could see that he had short, messy, dark-colored hair. His mouth was stretched into a comforting, yet crooked grin. His eyes—though I could not see the color—glinted with the moonlight streaming in through the pipe opening. I spluttered out a few incoherent sounds as I tried to swear but the toxins pulsing through my body were making it impossible to accurately insult him. My vision was swimming as I stumbled towards him, his arms enclosed around me as my knees gave way. It was as though I was a world away, drowning but still breathing. He used a finger and delicately, almost sweetly, closed my eyes to the world and I didn't fight him. The sleep came with the sensation of comfort, even in the arms of a stranger.