Souvenirs From Dead Worlds | ✓

Chapter 19

Seba could barely see the stairs in front of him as he pushed himself back against the wall, breathing heavily into the darkness. Had the guard seen him go down here? Had the guard followed Kias and Sam? Would the guard be there if Seba went back up the stairs?

Seba had panicked and Seba had run, and in that moment the concealing blackness of the stairwell had been the closest place to hide. Of course, he was now essentially trapped.

There were three options. Seba could go up the stairs, Seba could go down the stairs, or Seba could stay where he was. He immediately dismissed the idea of staying put. That would certainly lead to capture sooner or later.

He could go upstairs, but the image of that guard with his sword drawn was fresh in his mind. Seba wasn't a terribly skilled fighter and these weren't people known for their mercy.

Down was a complete unknown which, stupidly, sounded more appealing. He certainly had some ideas of the kinds of things that went on down there — he'd heard rumours. The guards were famous for entertaining themselves by mistreating prisoners. He hoped not to get caught. He may not have been good at fighting, but he did quite well at going unnoticed.

If Seba could find Sam's friends and help them escape their cells, he would at least not be alone down there. If he could get them all the way up the stairs again without getting caught they might even be able to overpower the guard. Sam had admitted he wasn't a merchant, and it was likely his friends weren't anything so unexceptional either. Whatever they were, wherever they had come from, and whatever secrets they held, Seba just hoped they knew how to fight.

Every sound echoed loudly in the stairwell, so Seba did his best to make none. That Sam hadn't given him the chance to put shoes on was actually an advantage in this, as bare feet treaded more quietly than any shoes. Not that he was particularly grateful for it — running down a paved street with bare feet had been rather uncomfortable. The soles of Seba's feet still felt raw. As distasteful as life with Kalem had been, it had left him soft and pampered. Physically, anyway.

The stairwell was near complete dark, making it extremely difficult to walk down the stairs silently while also managing not to fall down them. Seba ran his hand along the wall for support and took each step with care. Then there was a loud crash from the top of the stairs and Seba reflexively pressed himself against the wall, doing his best to hide himself further in the already concealing darkness.

The guard was definitely in the room at the top of the stairs now, and he did not sound happy. Seba kept his ear out for any sounds that might indicate that Sam or Kias had been caught, but there were no voices, no sounds of a struggle. Seba wasn't sure exactly what the guard was doing, but the clanging suggested he was hitting his sword against something hard repeatedly. Probably the desk. Seba had noted earlier that it had several notches along the edge and the legs. They were possibly the result of similar temper tantrums.

The loud clunking of the sword hitting wood over and over provided Seba with both an incentive to increase his distance from the angry guard and the noise to cover any sounds he might make as he rushed down the stairs. Relying on his sense of vision to help him down the stairs was useless to Seba at that point, so instead he shut his eyes and navigated the steps by feel. They were in good condition and were evenly spaced, so Seba found that if he stopped focussing on his inability to see, making his way down them wasn't so very difficult. Still, when he reached the bottom he let out a sigh of relief.

The corridor before Seba was long and narrow, and Seba could see light coming from around the corner at the end of it. Light seemed only to be used here when there were people around to enjoy it, so Seba reverted back to his slow, cautious pace as he made his way down the corridor and approached the corner.