Ash shoved Nico out of the way, and ducked a fast swipe aimed at his neck. He thrust his blade through the Acolyte's belly, in and out, as quick as that. He kicked the man out of the way and lunged at another white-robed assailant, even as he, too, was leaping through. This one fared better. He batted Ash's blade aside with one hand, forcing him to swerve from a return jab to the face.
They struck and parried in a fast exchange, blades scraping and ringing, scattering Nico and the old match man towards the door of the small room, and destroying the furniture all around them in their frenzy. Remarkably, the matchstick ranch house remained untouched.
Nico struggled for the door of the room and pulled it open. He had to get out of there.
He stumbled out into a dark corridor with his blade drawn. Ash knocked into him, stepping backwards through the doorway too, still fending off the Acolyte. A quick glance showed more of the attackers leaping across and into the room. The toothless old man was sitting back out of their way, clapping his hands with glee.
Nico ran off along the corridor, Ash close on his heels. A startled face at a doorway; another door slammed shut; a stairwell leading up and down. Nico leapt down the stairs, three steps at a time. He hooked his hand on the banister and swung himself around each turn, down one floor after another until at last he had reached the bottom. He could see his way to the front door at the end of a long hallway.
Ash grabbed him as he fled towards it. The old farlander jerked him back, pushed him in the opposite direction while white flashes came flying down the stairwell they had just left.
Washrooms, dirty sinks and scrubbing boards for clothes and a harsh smell of starch in the air; he could hear the whine of his own breath in his throat, the slap of his bare soles against the tiled floor as he turned this way and that; a moment of elation, a gaslight on the wall illuminating the back door of the building, and then Nico went bursting through it into a fog-filled night – and into a sudden eruption of noise.
Chips of stone flew all around him. He stood fixed to the spot, unsure of what was happening, or why his ears pounded under a quick succession of deafening cracks. And then he realized he was being fired upon by a great number of rifles. More rifles than he had ever heard before.
He would have been perforated with shots if Ash had not tripped him and sent him sprawling to the ground. They both crawled out into the deep fog, well away from the light spilling from the doorway. The fog obscured them from sight as shots whipped above their scalps. Behind them, the pursuing Acolytes hung back inside the doorway of the building, not risking themselves to the maintained volleys of fire from their colleagues. Ash and Nico crawled along the street. Nico did not even feel the pain of its rough surface in his knees and elbows. When they were far enough away Ash tugged him up on to shaky legs, holding firmly to his arm.
They made a run for it. There weren't any street lights here, but still someone spotted them. Shouts rang out, and then the sounds of pursuit.
A shape challenged them from ahead, but fell in silence at a slash from Ash's blade. Nico leapt the body, not giving it a second thought. More shapes, and Ash flicked out with his sword again, never slowing in his stride. Nico had dropped his own blade somewhere along the way. He didn't care. A flyer passed overhead, just above the rooftops, black and fast enough to be seen through the fog, circling the immediate district.
The entire area appeared to be surrounded and they could spot movement whenever they passed better-lit streets than this one. As they came to a T-junction opening into a well-lit thoroughfare, the sound of firing brought them to a halt. They ducked back, seeing both ends blocked off.
Nico cowered against a wall, trying to find a hiding space that was not there. At every shot fired, his body tensed in expectation of instant pain. Ash pulled him roughly out into the street. They crossed it moving as low and fast as they could. Cries from both ends betrayed the occasional victims of friendly fire.
A building ahead, squat and uglier than most in this city. Its doorway was without a door, black as night. They fell through it into a stinking space without light, sparks flying and chips of stone raining down from the outer edges of the doorway behind them.
They stumbled deeper inside, the dimly seen walls covered in the faint impressions of graffiti. It was a public latrine, with a row of privy holes ranged against one wall.
Ash strode to the rear of the small building, where a few grimy narrow windows ran high up along the back wall. He smashed one with the hilt of his sword, cleared away the jagged edges.
'We must split up, boy. I am much faster on my own. If you hide I can lead them away from you.'
Nico cast a glance about him. 'Hide? Where?'
Ash swept his gaze along the row of privy holes, in a single wooden bench covered with dubious stains. The old man tugged at it till he had wrenched the bench up from its mounting. The smell was enough to make him gag. Beside him, Nico began to retch.
As his master confronted him, Nico backed away, appalled, from the expression on his face. He knew what Ash was proposing, and started to shake his head slowly, with determination.
'You want to die here?'
'Don't leave me then. We'll make a run for it together.'
'We are trapped, Nico. We must be creative and find a way out of this for you at least. Now, get in.'
'I won't do it.'
'Please, Nico. Listen, they come.'
It was true. The sound of footfalls could be heard, pounding along the street outside.
'Now!' commanded Ash, and entirely against his will, Nico felt his body step over to the gaping space of the exposed privy.
A hard shove sent him toppling into it, where he landed on his back. His body settled into a sodden, stinking mound which had the consistency of mud, and which tried to claim him. He retched again, and this time he vomited.
'Hush!' whispered Ash from above him as he lifted the privy bench back into place.
Nico clamped a hand across his mouth, gagging and shivering in silence. 'Make your way to the docks when it is clear,' instructed Ash through one of the holes. 'You will see a statue of one of their generals – you cannot miss it. I shall meet you there at dawn if I can. But if I do not return, Nico, then leave this city. Go home to your mother. Live a long life and think well of me.'
The old farlander tossed down a purse of coins. It clinked mutedly in the foulness next to him.
'Farewell, my boy.'
'Master Ash!'
But Ash was gone. Nico could hear him slithering out through the window, and then footsteps scraped by the entrance, and someone shouted, and they were after him.
Others remained behind. Lamplight flickered through the holes overhead; shadows passed by, the scuff of heavy boots and the closeness of shouted commands echoing in the reeking space immediately overhead. Nico closed his eyes and tried to breathe in without gagging. He tried, with all his will, not to think of what they would do to him if he was caught.
Light flickered against his eyelids, but by the time he had gathered enough courage to look upwards it was already fading.
The chase moved on. The room overhead became dark and silent.
He waited. He heard more shots in the distance. A scream. People shouting.
Nico lost track of time. He found that not moving at all was the best way to minimize the sensation of the ordure against his skin. He lay in perfect stillness, trying to breathe without actually breathing.
He wondered how Ash fared, and was certain, despite the sheer scale of the trap set around them, that his master would find a way clear of it. That at least gave Nico some hope.
Dogs barked. Again voices. Nico's heart stopped in mid-beat as footsteps returned to the entrance.
'They searched in there already,' came a woman's voice.
'Those idiots? They might be good at waving their swords around, but I doubt their skills at observation.'
Boots scraped overhead once more. A lamp flickered, casting shadows.
'Where is Stano? Did you see him?' The woman's voice sounded worried.
'Aye, the Rshun ran him through in the fog. Bad luck, that.'
'Dead?'
'He looked it.'
The woman seemed displeased at that. 'When we catch these bastards, I will have first crack at them.'
'Be my guest.'
