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She was only supposed to listen, gather information, and disappear without a trace. It’s what the mercenaries demand of her in return for their sanctuary from slavers and the endless cruelties of the nobility. And she is good at it, maybe the best they’ve had in a long time.
But it only takes one mistake. One stupid, stupid mistake.
She can hear their pounding feet on the pavers behind her as she escapes through the streets. There’s too many for the belt of knives wrapped around her waist so she runs, silent feet barely touching the ground. Every time she thinks she’s lost them, their shadows grow with angry torchlight against the walls behind her, to the side. Too late she realizes they’re pushing her towards the open avenues of the city center where there will be no where to hide.
Abora pivots hard and her ankles almost give way with the sudden strain as she spots a dark, narrow alley. Her shoulder crashes into the rough wall and she bites back the scream as it pops under the pressure. Through bleary eyes she jumps over railings and slides around debris, feet scrambling as the echoes of pursuit draw nearer. It is not long before her hands crash into something solid and impassible. The end of the alley.
There may have been a chance to survive one mistake tonight, but not two.
She turns to face the street, the sound of her dagger being drawn dampened by the heavy beating of her heart. In the dim light, the blade’s smooth reflection catches her gaze. There will be no escaping this. They will come for her, take her deep underground where only agony grows and wring the secrets from her. It would be better to end it on her own terms.
Fingers tremble as she takes in a final breath and brings the weapon towards her neck.
Something grabs onto her arm and pulls her into darkness. The knife flies from her hand, but she doesn’t hear it clatter to the ground. She’s wrapped up too tight and lashes out with her feet, legs kicking at the air in front of her and back at whatever might hold her hostage.
“Settle yourself, little rabbit, or the dogs will catch you,” a deep voice whispers in her ear. She gasps, freezing in the grip of someone’s strong arms. Head swivels to catch a glimpse, but the shadows of night do much to cover their features.
They let out a thoughtful hum and Abora can feel it shiver down her spine. “They are tracking you with a mage. How clever, but I am cleverer still.”
The invisible touch of magic falls around her skin like a silk cloak and she shivers. “What-”
“Shh.”
The sounds in the alleyway stop her from protesting further. Eyes burn as light floods into their small space. “Did she come this way?”
Abora holds her breath as two figures appear where she once stood. One runs his fingers over the thick wall while the other glances into their alcove. She swears the other woman’s eyes bore right into hers, but there is no sound of alarm, not swords flashing in the dark.
“No, there’s nothing here. Her trail has gone cold.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t a mage?”
“I did not believe so.”
There’s a grunt of frustration and then- “Come on. The longer we linger the further she gets from our grasp.”
Abora waits until the light fades and silence returns to the night before she exhales and sucks air back into her lungs. “Well, well, well, what could this little rabbit have done to earn Falon’Din’s ire?”
She has almost forgotten about her company. She twists, quick fingers reaching for another knife, and brings the sharp edge up beneath the elf’s chin. Abora should slash their throat and be gone, rescuer or not. They are just another loose end in the quickly unraveling tapestry of her life.
“Who are you?” she demands instead.
Soft veilfire fills the enclosure and breaks apart the shadows. She sees his smile first, free and careless despite the weapon close to severing his life. Then his eyes, blue and bright in the magic glow, the jawbone dangling from his neck, and all at once the recognition slams into Abora.
She drops her arm and jumps back into the far wall away her savior, the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Fen’Harel.”
The exiled god of Arlathan smiles even wider. Shock stuns her into silence and he presses advantage, arms coming up to brace on either side of her shoulders.
“What? Not even one word of thanks for my timely intervention? I will forgive your manners if you would but tell me what interesting secret you must have to catch the attention of my brother’s brutes.”
“I…” Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. Of all the gods she could stumble upon, her path would cross with the two most dangerous to her kind in one evening. It could not have been the gods of luck and riches instead. That she would tangle with the idols of war and treachery is a mistake of fate no preparation on her part could prevent.
Fen’Harel may have saved her yet she is not safe. He may have fallen from grace long ago, but no mortal is safe from a god no matter how low they have become. She can tell the danger in the gleaming cut of his eyes ready to devour her at any moment. Abora thinks fast, hoping the ancient rumors are true.
“I humbly thank you for your assistance,” she says, bowing and ducking from his embrace at the same time. “I will not abuse any more of your time.”
“And where do you think you’ll go?”
“Anywhere but here. I can escape if I am careful,” she replies and moves further into the alley.
“Did they see your face, little rabbit?” Abora stops at the question, trying her best to look nervous. It is an easy thing to do with Fen’Harel bearing down.
“Yes.”
“Then you will be safe no where.” He tilts his head, considering. “I have been attempting to discovery his plans with little success. We have known each other too long, Falon’Din and I. But you managed to gleam something very important with ease. I will offer my protection in exchange for your knowledge. I might find more use for you and your obvious talents. Either way, you will be safe from Falon’Din’s gaze.”
It is what she had been hoping for, but she keeps any thoughts of victory far from her features. This battle is not over just yet. “Only to be victim to your teeth when I am of no more use?”
The wolf breaks through as his eyes grow darker, lips curling back in a snarl. The sight of it turns her heart to lead in her chest. “Only a fool would question the word of a god. I swear to keep you from harm, but my deal only lasts within the next few heartbeats. Linger too long and I will end you myself.”
“I accept your offer,” she says after a quiet pause.
Fen’Harel’s smile returns, but it does not put her at ease. He steps passed her and towards the street, nodding his head for her to follow. “Come then. We have much work to do, little rabbit.”
Abora takes a breath and slips close to Fen’Harel’s side, hoping she has not traded one trap for a more sinister snare.