Upon hearing the crash, Illannis ducked and then dove to the floor. When she spun around to see what had made the noise, she saw a giant man standing in the tavern common room.
He was tall, nearly seven feet tall, and he was dressed head to toe in black. He bore a sword nearly as tall as he was and without hesitation, he swung his enormous blade. The city guards scattered out of his way, and he buried his weapon half-way into one of the support beams.
One of the guards leapt forward and stabbed the giant man in the side. The man turned, wrapped his hands around the guard’s neck, and gave out a rasping, horrendous roar. Illannis heard a pop and a crack, and the guardsman slumped to the floor, dead. The captain of the guard lifted a whistle to his lips, and blew.
Illannis rolled to her feet, grateful for the distraction and frightened of the giant man who could take a mortal wound without a flinch. She sprinted out the door as she heard more bootsteps and whistles. She was on the street, and putting as much distance as she could between herself and that creature.
It was when she had stopped running, hunched over and out of breath, that she stood up and realized she did not know where she was. It was also when she realized that she had been followed as she escaped the tavern.
An old, toothless man smiled at her, and winked.
Illannis bolted. She heard a laugh and the softly padding feet of the old man behind her. She ducked through alleyways, sprinted down avenues, hurtled over low carts and dodged through crowds of strangers. Yet every time she glanced behind her, she saw the old man, toothless and smiling.
Her lungs ached, dry, empty, and gasping. Her legs burned, and now she stumbled often, too tired to keep her footing. She fell to the cobblestone streets, landing on her palms and the shock sending pain to her wrists and elbows. The old man was laughing openly, and she picked herself up and staggered to a wall. The old man sauntered up to her, whistling through his gums. He stopped two arm’s lengths away. He cocked his head to the side and scratched at his ear.
“Had enough running now dearie?” he asked.
Illannis shook her head, swallowing loudly, her throat too dry, too dry. No, she thought, Oh please, no.
Still smiling, the old man cupped his weathered hands around his mouth, and squawked like a gull. Illannis pushed herself up from the wall. Her legs were tired, too tired. Even through her gloves, she felt her hand slip across the filthy wall.
Soon, many boot steps approached and Illannis was measuring if she could still run. As men and women began to filter around her, she decided that it would be better to save her energy to fight. If she pressed them hard enough, perhaps they would kill her. Perhaps they wouldn’t try to keep her alive, to do other, much worse things, to her.
She saw Roder’s great horns floating above the heads of the crowd. She swallowed hard, and drew herself up. He was giving her a slow and measured applause as the crowd parted to let him through.
“My, my, my dear lady Revlin, you gave ole Nanker here quite a chase. Not a very interesting one for him, at least, but a chase nonetheless. You still have some fire left in you, no?”
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