So far, so good. The town was fast asleep. We had not been spotted by any of the guards, and we had all landed relatively close to one another. It was just one of many things that needed to go right tonight.
Across the dirt road, Makara and Samuel kneeled between two buildings. I could see their faces staring at me from below, in the darkness. I had to find a way down and join them.
I kept low and searched the perimeter of the building for a way down. I was in luck; a metal ladder descended from the building’s side, right into the alleyway below. All I had to do was go down it and dash across the street to where Makara and Samuel were. Then, we could begin our search for Anna.
Before I stepped down, I surveyed my surroundings. The buildings were all old, mostly from Pre-Ragnarok times. Most of the paint had long peeled off, and the buildings’ sides were cracked, their original whitewash stained with dust and soot. The wall had probably been built following Ragnarok for additional security. In the distance, I could see one of the gatehouses. From its twin guard towers, flags flapped in the darkness. On the wooden ramparts stood two figures of guards, facing outward.
I climbed down the ladder, taking the rungs carefully. It wouldn’t do to slip and fall because I was in a hurry. When I reached solid ground, I allowed myself a small sigh of relief. I stepped lightly onto the dirt of the dark alley. A chill clung in the air, and a thin veil of mist covered the ground. In the distance, perhaps several buildings away, a couple of dogs howled, sending shivers down my spine.
I edged closer to the street. Everything was as empty as we could have wished it. I had expected there to be more people about, and for a minute, I was skeptical of it. Still, I crouched low, and ran across the street. When I reached the alley, I finally joined up with Samuel and Makara. They both looked relieved to see me.
“We’re inside,” I said. “Now what?”
Samuel motioned for me to keep my voice down. In the calm night, it had carried more than I’d intended. Then, he took off his goggles. Makara and I followed his example. I allowed mine to hang around my neck. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.
“She will be probably be under lock and key,” Samuel said.
“Assuming she wasn’t killed,” Makara said.
Samuel nodded. “Yes, that is always a possibility.”
“Maybe a guardhouse of some kind?” I suggested.
“Or a jailhouse,” Makara said.
“Those would be good places to start.”
I looked around, as if I might find those kinds of places in this cold, deserted alley. The settlement was a little bigger than I thought. It was probably the same size as Oasis in the Wasteland, although the population density was much higher. The buildings were more packed together, most of them being three and four stories. Obviously, this town had existed Pre-Ragnarok, and the Empire had appropriated it for its own use. Ashton gave us thirty minutes to complete the mission upon touchdown, and it would easily take hours to go through all the buildings. Even I wasn’t feeling that lucky, especially when danger would be lurking inside.
I was about to ask where we should start, when a door slammed open from the building to our right. Yellow light spilled into the alley. A man was thrown out the door, crying out as he rolled through the dirt and into the brick wall of the adjacent building. He moaned in pain as three men exited the open door, brandishing clubs. They stalked toward their victim, surrounding him.
The downed man opened his eyes, looking right at us. His eyes widened, but he said nothing. He seemed to be pleading with us to help him.
The men had yet to notice us standing just a few feet off in the darkness. That wouldn’t last long. Samuel urged us forward.
As the men closed in on their prey and began the beating anew, we sneaked up from behind. I silently retrieved my knife from its sheath, hoping for a quick and silent kill. We were close, now — just feet away, and they had yet to notice us. That’s when the man closest to me turned around — fat, with a thick, unkempt black beard, and dark brown eyes. He cried out in alarm.
Samuel stepped forward, silently stabbing the man’s neck before he could react. He screamed and fell to the dirt. Makara bounded forward, taking out the second man, tall and skinny, with a frenzy of knife swipes. She finished the job similarly to Samuel — stabbing the man through the throat once he was down.
I had the job of finishing the last one — a short, bald man who made up for his lack of height with plenty of muscle. He looked like a fighter to the core, covered with scars on his face and arms. He had drawn his own knife, backing away as he faced off against me. But his retreat was a feint. He lunged at me, eyes filled with lethal purpose.
Samuel and Makara pressed on him from either side. Knowing he was surrounded, he made one last ditch effort to attack me, in order to cut his way free. I dodged his wild swipe. The attack had put him off balance. I kicked him with my boot. He grunted, and was sent sprawling to the ground. He yelled in Spanish, probably calling for help, before Makara jumped on top and finished him, cutting him cleanly across the throat. Blood gurgled from his mouth. He quivered, and grew still.
The man we saved still cowered against the wall, as if we might attack him next.
“It’s alright,” Makara said. “You can trust us.”
The man looked up. “Thank you. I couldn’t take all three.”
The man was maybe in his mid to late twenties. He had coppery brown skin, and sported a full, black beard. He wore a simple cotton shirt and rough pants fashioned from what seemed to be hemp or burlap. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a wealthy man. He was covered in hard muscle, as if used to hard labor. He had striking, green eyes, and several day’ stubble covered his face. Several scars crisscrossed his forearms, and a small one underlined his right eye.
“Why were they attacking you?” I asked.
He shrugged, sitting up straighter against the wall. He closed his eyes, still obviously in pain.
“I’m a slave. This is nothing out of the ordinary.” He looked at us, curiously. “Who are you? You are obviously Americans, but you have guns. Did you escape? Who was your master?”
“We’re trying to find a friend,” Samuel said. “She is short, with black hair. She was taken here two days ago, and we’re trying to find her.”
The man’s face lit with recognition.
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about.” He shook his head. “You just missed her.”
“Missed her?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
Makara glanced nervously toward the open door. From within came the sound of yelling.
“Guys,” she said, “we better keep this short.”
“They transported her, last night,” the man said. “She fought against the slavers in the town square, even killing one of them.”
“And she’s still alive?” Samuel asked.
The man nodded. “They sent her to Nova Roma.”
“Nova Roma?” I asked. “What for?”
“I don’t know,” the man said. “I saw her leave this morning, with the other slaves.”
Other slaves. So she is enslaved.
“We have to go after her,” I said.
The man stood up from where he had been sitting. “My name is Julian, by the way.”
“Look,” Samuel said. “Introductions can wait. If what you say is true, Julian, then we need to get out of here right now.”
Before Samuel could say anything more, two men ran out into the alleyway from the open door. They stood for a moment, shocked, upon seeing their fallen comrades soaking in their own pools of blood.