Faefalling (working title)

17- I return to civilisation and find it still sucks

"This way," the captain motioned for me to follow him deeper into the city.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he took my weaponry into account, his gaze lingering on Craorag. I withdrew as much as I could into the cloak when he noticed my torc. Not quick enough.

"You've got royal blood?" he asked.

I froze. "I do have distant relations to past rulers of Scathliath," I muttered.

The lights in the surrounding buildings were starting to come on as we wandered across the empty cobblestone streets. They grew shabbier the further we made our way down the road. Fionn followed closely behind, observing everything like a wide-eyed puppy. The captain's face remained stoic.

"And yet you come to capture one from your homeland? Why is that?"

I gulped, and steeled my voice before answering. "Your prince offers a hefty sum."

"That he does," the captain affirmed. "Preferably alive." Again he shot a glance at my sword.

I managed a chuckle. "I'd never go anywhere without my trusty blade, nonetheless."

He nodded. "Understandable. I assume she's enchanted. As captain of the city guard, I've no need to walk around with a sword of my own." He forced emphasis on his title, the danger he posed. "I've always found them to be cumbersome. Killing is an art. It should be done with weapons as agile as a paintbrush."

The remark sparked concern. I gave him a quick once over. It was true that he carried no sword, though Fionn did. I eyed the captain's suit for any hidden pockets, making a mental note not to turn my back on him anytime in the near future.

"I have yet to introduce myself. The name's Cathal," the captain said.

"Bevyn," I answered, instantly reverting to my favoured alias.

He nodded before abruptly turning down a dark alleyway. I followed at his heels down the slim passage, Fionn close at my rear. There was little room to manoeuvre, what with the captain and his lackey blocking any escape. My hand moved to Craorag's pommel.

We advanced without incident, though Cathal's pace slowed. Behind us, I heard a small sneeze. Light like bell chimes. Lazuli, I was sure. I coughed. If Agaveah was going to trail us, she could at the very least assure it was done in silence.

As we reached the end of the lane, we emerged into a circular clearing. The cobblestone underfoot grew smooth and clean, set down so that it formed spiralling flowers. Taking his first steps into the adorned, suburban glade, Cathal raised both hands high above his head. Fionn did the same, fear apparent in his juvenile features.

Cathal moved aside so that I was allowed access to the clearing. I didn't raise my hand from Craorag even as he whispered a warning. "Don't be a fool, Bevyn. They'll strike you down. Raise your hands."

I ignored him. Concentrating, I could feel shapes moving about us. Though at first glance the walls of the clearing appeared to be solid stone, sparks of life came from inside. Some even hid beneath our feet. I felt them circling, ready to spring out and subdue whatever threat I posed.

Fionn and Cathal mouthed warnings once more, but their words didn't reach me. My eyes widened and I spun. In what'd seemed less than a second, sparks popped up at my side. The captain and the lad cowered. What exactly were they afraid of? Or who?

Something clattered onto the stone floor, and I jolted towards the sound, eyes darting. A small canister rolled across the blocks, clinking with each turn. It tumbled to a stop at my toe. Beginning with a sinister hiss, a coloured smoke began to seep out of the bottle's top. It smelt of nothing, but began to climb my figure and arched up my leg in soft twirls. Before I could understand its purpose, the entire clearing was shrouded in a thick, burgundy smog. I kicked the capsule away with a growl.