Back on Track

After missing the first few days of writing, I've been doing my best to catch up to the par speed to win NaNoWriMo. Finally, I've made it! Yey! I'm currently at 19.000/50.000 words and should reach 20.000 tonight. I'm going to miss out Tuesday altogether, but playing D&D as Bory will more than make up for it ;) And I'll make up for those missed words within a few days.

To celebrate, I'll publish a longer excerpt of the story I'm working on. Mind you, this is draft that I'm not editing at all as I go, so it'll be a bit crude since I'm not waisting too much time coming up with synonyms and better figures of speech. I'll do all of that after I've reached that 50.000 and written THE END. Anyway, here's a sneak peek:



***

LeBrant hurried his steps, thanking his soft leather boots for not making a sound on the old stair planks. This was stupid. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be trying to shake these people off his tail. There was no way out from upstairs, probably.

"Wait... What is this place?"

"Never mind it, idiot, we're not here to scout architecture."

"No, really, we passed this place on the outside, no? I... I think this is... Man, we need to get out of here!"

"Don't be daft! Hoist your superstitious ass over here, we've got him cornered now. Probably hiding in some corner upstairs, poor bugger. Come on, we've got easy money to catch."

LeBrant felt sorry for the two, if only for a little bit. They had been lured to this quest by a bounty a bit too large for catching a petty thief, which was what the Seekers had told them they were after. Capture this young man, alive, and bring him to us. The fugitive didn't even look threatening, not with his skinny figure that had not been fed enough, his fluffy ball of hair and his large eyes that looked mostly frightened, looking from that slightly starved, but still very childlike face. What these men had not been told though, was that LeBrant had been running for close a decade now, after escaping the Seekers when he had been ten years old. He had outwitted several previous chasers, outrun countless mercenaries and kept his freedom. But he was becoming too known. Too many had been after him, too many questions had been asked around and too many posters of him were nailed to posts around the country. He couldn't hide forever, even if he managed to get rid of these two. He would have to make a stance someday, if he couldn't find a sure way to disappear for good.

But for now, he reached the top of the stairs. There was a narrow corridor, with numerous doors on either side. Some were closed, others didn't have an actual door to start with. There were even more signs of hurry here. Desk drawers pulled out and thrown away after cleaning what ever it had been they had been holding. Floorboards pulled off, the secrets there taken out.

LeBrant's hand quickly tried the knobs on every closed door he passed, but they seemed either to be locked or too tight to open with ease. The corridor turned to his right, and he hurried onwards. Everywhere, it was the same. The corridor spiralled on. The open rooms were larger as he reached the side that opened its windows to the street below. Furniture abandoned there was looking more expensive, but he didn't have time to evaluate them for anything else except for escape plans, which they weren't any good for. The final corner of the corridor led him facing a larger, more decorated door. Dead end. With frustration, he shook the door handle, which didn't budge.

His head turned this way and that, trying to find anything to use, anywhere to go. He could hear the men crashing the doors one by one and throwing the furniture around, trying to find him. With anguish on his face, LeBrant leaned his back on the corridor wall, his hand smoothing the hardwood obstacle in his way. There were gilded carvings on it and his fingers stroked their curves as if on their own volition. The pattern made no sense. Maybe it was a tree? The shapes were all over the place, spiralling this way and that. But despite the mercenaries closing in on him, he was fascinated by it. And finally his eyes were drawn on a particular spot on the winding strings of carvings. It was another spiral, but unlike the rest, it was ungilded, showing the red wood surface. And under the top of the spiral was a horizontal line, making the pattern resemble a horn much like on plaque downstairs.

Not really knowing what he was thinking, he pressed on it with his palm. It gave way, making the faintest click as it opened the door. LeBrant snuck in, making note how thick the door was when he pulled it closed behind him.

This room was empty as well, but not like the others. There were no broken items, nothing out of place. The walls, and the empty bookshelves on it, were mostly covered with thick, rich velvet in a crimson shade and the soft rug on the floor, which easily would have muffled the sound of even heavier boots, was of the same colour. The room had light pouring in from the large window on the ceiling and after the dimness of the rest of the building the brightness took his eyes some getting used to.

Everything here looked comfortable and luxurious. The massive desk occupying most of the remaining space was made out of the same red wood as the door and had carvings in the same motif. The armchairs around it had the look of wear on them, but the cushions were still soft as he sat on the one sitting behind the desk. Drawers were still in place, most of them had locks, but the key was still in place in one of them. They had been emptied but he still turned the key in every one of the locks, just to make sure. Tapping the key on his lip in his thoughts, LeBrant let his eyes take in the whole room. He now noticed that wall opposite of the door he had came in through wasn't actually just one wall. A panel separated a portion of the room into a secluded space that could only be seen from this position. He hadn't noticed it before, since the panel and the true back wall had been cleverly painted to look like one continuing wall from the door. Behind it, he found a four-poster bed with crimson sheets and curtains. Whoever had worked here, also had lived here. And they had made their bed before leaving. The place gave him goosebumps. But he had no time to figure it out as the men were now at the door.

Door handle was rattled. Then the woodwork thumped and the man trying to break through cried out from the pain. The door hadn't given in at all.

"Shit! My shoulder!"

"Moron! Try to aim for the lock, they usually give out more easily."

Another thump.

"It's like hitting iron!"

"Fine, you baboon, I'll try to pick that lock."

LeBrant wasn't going to wait whether they could get the door open or not. The only way out was the window. He located the handle and after a creak, fresh air flooded into the room. The smell of sea, piss and smoke, everything that made it harbour-air. It would just take a quick jump to reach the rooftop, then he could continue running by foot. No one was here to see. Still, he felt nervous every time he had to use this ability that the Seekers were after him for.

Pursing his lips tightly and giving the unyielding door a final glance, he finally let out a sigh and relaxed his shoulders. It tingled, as always, when they grew out. He stretched out his black-feathered wings before making the leap, and easily made it through the window with one flap. He quickly withdrew them before anyone would see him.

After closing the window after him, he started to run across the tiles, careful enough not to trip, but still as fast as he could. Narrow streets of this poor neighbourhood were his salvation as he could leap from roof to roof, building up the distance between himself and the curious house he had just escaped from. He still couldn't shake that strange feeling the place had given him. Maybe he could go revisit it, once the dust settled on his tracks. But now he needed a place to lay low.

He had very few people he knew in Aava, even fewer he could trust. But there was one acquaintance that had taken a liking to him. He had actually been on his way to her when the mercenaries had intercepted him. Now that they weren't so hot on his trail, he could dare go to her house.

After the streets widened, he looked for a good spot to climb down to street level. It was always best to try not to raise any more suspicion than necessary. Raising the hood of his short cape, he tried to act as nonchalantly as possible, blending in with the crowd that was leaving the closing marketplace. He tagged along a small group that seemed to be going in the same direction he was, walking close enough to be mistaken for a member. Pacing his steps to theirs, holding in the urge to just run past them, he listened to them talking about trivial, day-to-day matters. Someone's cat had birthed a litter that needed to be gotten rid of. Another wailed at the increased price of pork meat. That led to a whole another argument about social injustice that LeBrant let become a buzz in his ears. He had too many troubles of his own to worry about castes. He had so many troubles that he couldn't even think of the last time he made made idle chatter with anyone. Maybe tonight then? He could try to wind down with Ellie.

When the group's path was close enough to his destination, he took a shortcut through a gap between two houses, too small to be called a real alley, but wide enough for him to squeeze through with his slim body. Her apartment was on the second floor of a small tanner's shop, along with other rooms for rent. He rounded to the back of the building, striding the steps to the second floor balcony two at a time. Trying out his most amiable smile, he knocked on the second door on his left.

The door was opened by a slender woman, well into her twenties, and her clothes revealing not only a good part of her round bosom, but also her low income as a seamstress. Her chestnut brown hair was tied into a loose braid that curled down her shoulder and down to her waist.

"Ah, Bran? I thought you wouldn't come at all, the way you kept me waiting."

"Something came up and I almost didn't. Care to let me in? It's getting chilling as it gets darker."

Stepping inside her small room he lowered his hood, shaking his blond hair loose.

"You're not in trouble again, are you?" she asked, trying to keep worry out of her voice. She was a darling, really, and LeBrant felt sad that they couldn't meet more often.

"Oh you now me, I'll be all right", he answered, giving her a gentle smile and stroking her soft cheek with a slender finger. She flushed, as she easily did, which was one of her most endearing features. Maybe he could leave the small talk to a pillow talk instead? Still smiling, he wrapped one arm around her waist and leaned to kiss her plump lips.

"Bran..." she tried to stop him, but with little true intent.

"I've missed you, Ellie. Let me show you how much."

"We always end up like this."

"Do you mind?"

"No..."

She surrendered fully to his kiss, which he savoured. She had to catch her breath when he finally let her go.

"Don't you have anything else to say to me?" she breathed, but not pushing him away.

"Sure. I hear the price of pork has gone up."

"You make fun of me."

"Never, my dear", he denied softly, "Talking just isn't my strong suit."

"Maybe you could make it up to me", she proposed.

"You read my mind, as always", he replied, nibbling her neck with his mouth. It made her giggle ever so adorably.

"Why don't you go ahead to the bedroom, Bran. I'll... just grab a bottle and be right behind you." She pulled herself away from his grip, shoving him towards the door that was slightly ajar. He feigned resistance, like he couldn't let go of her for one more moment, but then obeyed.

The small room was lit only by a single candle on the bedside table, but he knew where the bed was. Throwing his cape to the direction of the stool she usually kept close the door-side wall, hoping it would still be there, he jumped on the thin mattress. Listening to the clinks of glass from the other room, he let his eyes become accustomed to the dimness. And as shadows became more grey and formed recognisable shapes, he found himself staring at a man that was sitting on the stool beside the wall.

"You have finally arrived, LeBrant", the man said dryly.

"You seem to know me, but I don't think its mutual?" LeBrant asked to buy himself time to plan yet another escape for the evening. So much for laying low and taking a breath.

"No, we haven't met, but your description in our records is quite accurate."

LeBrant gave the intruder another evaluating look. He seemed to be in his early twenties or even younger, it was hard to tell without proper lighting. His black hair was messy and draped to his shoulders. His thin but pretty face was stern and without humour. He was wearing a simple, high-collared suit, with a triangle shaped small brooch, resting his arms on his thighs and holding his cape in his delicate hands. A triangle within an upside-down triangle within a triangle, a symbol that looked like an eye in a pyramid, representing the All-Seeing-Eye of the Seekers of Knowledge. They had found him. Many questions came to LeBrant's mind, but he chose this one:

"How?"

"… Did I find you?" the man completed his question, "I'm just very good at finding things. Details are hardly relevant."

"I'd still want to know."

The Seeker gave him a thin-lipped smile.

"So you could avoid this the next time? I'm sorry, I don't think there'll be a next time. But I'm not taking any chances. Not with you."

He was a smart one. Well, he had to be, since he had found his target. LeBrant had to try another strategy, even though he could guess it to be futile.

"I just want my freedom."

"Don't we all? Look, LeBrant, it's nothing personal. I'm just following my orders. And I'm taking you in."

LeBrant had thought of his options. The window in this room was a small one and the other man was closer to both it and the door than he was. He didn't see the man carrying any visible weapons, but that didn't rule out a hidden one. He could really use one himself, but no such luck. Maybe he could play along, let the man take him outside and then try to free himself. How tightly would the man tie him? Very tight, if he was so smart. Not so tightly if he thought he had won.

"All right", LeBrant sighed. A look of suspicious surprise flashed across the man's face. As LeBrant slowly got up from the bed, holding up his arms as a sign of surrender, so did the man stand up from his stool.

"At least tell me, who got me?"

The man blinked for a couple of times. Then, frowning, he replied slightly reluctantly:

"You can call me Willow. No sudden movements now. Lower your arms and let me tie them."

LeBrant did as ordered, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could, but the man approached him like a viper's nest. As his hand brushed his thigh, he felt an unfamiliar hard object in his pocket. He turned his other side towards the man, letting him begin his roping as he tried to trace the item's lines with his other hand. He had a knife in his pocket. Why? How? It didn't matter now. He could make his stance.

With one swift movement he stroke Willow around the man's abdomen with his elbow and drew out the blade with his other hand. The man was stunned by the attack and groaned from the pain. He wasn't a fighter, but neither was LeBrant. The soon-again-to-be-fugitive hesitated for just a moment before stabbing the dagger into his side. Willow let out a painful cry. With a twist of his hand, LeBrant withdrew the blade and shoved the Seeker away from his path to freedom. The man made a desperate attempt to try to grab him as he passed, but LeBrant was quicker. With a few long strides he was at the window and throwing his full body weight on it, he crashed through the shades. Falling through air for a second before his wings gave flight and then he gained altitude.