Demiverse: Agents of the Realm -- Chapter 2

Story by tcmeow on SoFurry

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#3 of Demiverse Agents

Chapter 2 of Agents of the Realm.

Note from the author: This is a fairly long chapter, and it's taken a while to get things in a state I'm comfortable with. I hope you enjoy the world and characters being built here. As usual, comments and any other feedback are welcome. With that said, happy reading :)


Marek headed straight for the exchange counter. The smuggler shouldn't be in any particular hurry, unless he just wanted to distance himself from the arena. Judging by the stunned look on the man's face and the fact he hadn't moved from the pit's edge, he was still recovering from the shocking events of the fight. Though it wasn't so much a fight as an object lesson on why knowing your opponent is, in fact, important.

By this point Marek didn't care too much about being overly cautious. He'd expected a prolonged battle, but with the outcome quickly decided, he had to move fast. Rather than exit in the normal manner, he just walked to the end of the row and jumped over the rail and dropped down to the walkway below, bypassing most of the crowd that was still processing what they'd just seen. The counter already had two people in line, he made the third. His luck had held so far, the carrier standing in plain view meant he hadn't had to get close to place the mark, not to mention his quickly placed bet. With the mark in place, he knew exactly where the man was, so long as he didn't take his boots off at least, and there wasn't any sign of that. The mark could also be destroyed, simply marring the surface enough would do the trick, but this too hadn't happened.

While he thought on this, the two in front of him were quickly processed and it was his turn. Marek flashed a brief smile while he held out his slip, "Seems like I was lucky today, but hell, ain't never seen anything like that before."

The man at the counter eyed the slip for a moment, before calling a colleague over, "This real?"

Marek frowned, the damned slip was real enough.

The second attendant gave Marek a quick glance before taking the slip in hand, "What, this? That _looks_like it's Jamison's ring, but I'll be damned if it's not a half-assed forge." The man looked back up at Marek, "Just what are you trying to pull here?" The look on the his face said enough. He knew the thing was real, but what kind of person that's not in the VIP section bets that much money. And if he's not in that section, he's not important enough to worry about.

He could feel his jaw clench, "Look, that bet taker's the big guy up there, short beard, wears the same uniform you guys have on. Seen more than one guy come back after taking a slip all smiles with their winnings from the smaller bouts."

The second attendant raised his voice, "I know a fake when I see one. You're holding up the line, and I don't think you want things to get outta hand here, now do ya?" This got the attention of one of the rather large fellows standing guard. He tapped the shoulder of his colleague standing next to him before jerking his head in Marek's direction.

Well, it wasn't surprising, and to help matters along his target was also finally on the move. He didn't have the time to deal with this properly, and it'd get ugly in a hurry, "So that's how it is here?" The big fellows were making their way over to the counter.

The smirk never left the attendant's face, "Yeah, that's how this works."

"Mr Timothy, what seems to be the issue?" Well, this guard at least could speak in sentences, even used decent manners too, what with the 'mister' and all that.

"Seems this guy thinks he can pass off a bad slip, see?" The betting slip in question was held out for the larger fellow to inspect.

"Hmm. Mr Tomothy here says it's not real, then it ain't. Matter of fact," the guard took the slip, then tore it to fine pieces before letting the shredded bits fall to the ground and wiping his hands together, "I don't see any problems here. Now, if you got business, then hand your bet over, otherwise, I think it's time you left." The guard gave him a quick look up and down as if sizing him up and ended the motion with what was supposed to be an intimidating grin. His partner started to move around the counter in a none too subtle fashion.

Marek clicked his tongue, "Well, shoot. Must've been a fake bet taker up there." Before he could get flanked and have to fight his way out, he shrugged his shoulders and headed toward the exit at a brisk clip. There were enough people already whispering, some laughing at the poor sod that just got fleeced. If the stables were as honest as this crew, he'd be in for a long evening.

* * *

The stables at least honored their sale of the horse. He'd been quick in retrieving the horse and setting off. With the departure of a good portion of his his funds, Marek had enough the pay the exit tax and be able to enter again, but not much more beyond that. It didn't matter really, whatever goods the runner had could be sold. He just needed the artifact the man was carrying.

What happened at the arena was a mistake on his part. Had he kept the bet to a smaller sum, they'd have just paid out and let the matter be. So much for honor among thieves, not that he placed any particular weight to that old saying, but he still was rather angry over the whole thing. The carrier was moving along at a faster pace now, he'd be within sight before too much longer.

Marek slowed his mount down, there wasn't really a road here, just rolling land covered with a liberal amount of sand and grit with the occasional scrubby plant here and there. Unless the smuggler was exceptionally absorbed with his loss, he'd know a lone horse rode this way before him. This would leave the man with two choices, either try to go around, or confront whoever awaited him. By reputation alone, the fellow didn't seem like the type to avoid a fight. If anything the man would probably want to vent his frustrations on whoever was stupid enough to cross him. Marek pulled his dagger free and simply waited.

It was only about five minutes after he'd stopped his horse and dismounted that the man came into view. While the night sky didn't provide an abundance of light, it was enough to see basic shapes for a good distance. Given the mark was steadily approaching with the horse, it was a good bet the person on top was the smuggler. Marek pulled one of the vials from his coat and downed the contents. Gods the stuff tasted horrible. He dropped the small glass container and scratched some dirt over it with his boot.

Right enough, the man staring dead at him was in a terrible mood, it was fairly easy to make out given his stiff stance in the saddle. "Not sure who the hell you think you are..."

"That's easy enough, I'm the bloke that's aiming to make sure your shit luck stays just that, Mister Stafford." Marek let every ounce of disdain he could mange drip into his words as he interrupted whatever spiel Stafford had worked up. The man probably wouldn't let mere words get to him, but taunting the bastard was well enough its own reward, "After all, it comes in threes doesn't it, not that you'll need to worry long. First your money, now this fight, and your life at the end." The man already had a hand in his coat, he'd heard just about enough, "Though I suppose the last two could count as the same. I think you'll have to settle for me taking that stone you're carrying as the third bit of luck."

Without any wasted movement, the man threw three small knives each aimed at a different height on Marek before jumping off his mount. Marek dodged the highest strike and blocked the remaining two with his dagger. The tiny blades clanged loudly against the larger one before falling harmlessly to the sand "Well this oughtta be fun." It was a simple declaration. Less prepared people would have been hit by at least one of the things, and more than a few lives had been taken by that same surprise attack as a result. This man loved his poisons, that much Marek knew from his study of the two runners. "Just to let you know, you missed the last one."

A wide smile spread over Stafford's lips. Marek hadn't felt anything at first, but a slow tingling sensation was crawling up Marek's left thigh. When had he thrown a fourth? Marek never felt the sting of the blade, maybe it was coated in some numbing agent. Perhaps he'd used his off hand, Marek's attention was drawn to the one in the coat, it would've been easy enough to throw it as he stepped down off the horse. He hated to admit it, but the man's reputation was well deserved. The tingling had reached his hip now, Marek fell backwards as he lost control of his legs.

"Now then, looks like my luck just up and changed. Can't say yours got any better though." Stafford gave him a slight nudge with his boot tip, Marek tipped onto his back limply without any resistance. "See the thing is you got to know when you're facing someone just a bit better, maybe a bit more experienced. Not that you need to worry about that long." It was a sloppy twist of his own words. The smuggler reached into his coat, pulling his own dagger out with a sadistic smile, "See, the thing is, you can't move but you'll feel this."

Marek was stabbed in the right thigh with a vicious stroke that hilted the dagger and sent the blade plunging into the dirt below. He felt his eyes go wide at the pain, it was all he could do to not scream. Stafford pulled the blade out, twisting it a bit for good measure as he wrenched it free. The man dragged the dagger's tip up Marek's chest, then held it up, examining the blood along the blade's edge. Smiling with deranged glee, the man squatted down beside Marek, his face directly over his fallen adversary's as he began laughing. The sick bastard was positively giddy, his eyes half closed in the euphoria of teaching this whelp a final, brutal lesson in the ways of the world.

Stafford's expression slowly changed to one of puzzlement and his laughing stopped short. His eyes refocused on Marek's face, just as the agent let a smile flash across his own features. The pain of being stabbed was a small price to pay for his own dagger's hilt pushing against the man's chest. Marek brought his left knee up against the side of the man's head as hard as he could, knocking him away though he kept hold of his dagger just in case there was more fight left in the smuggler.

It took him a moment to scramble up, his right leg was a mess that didn't want to hold any weight. Stafford was trying to move, coughing blood up as his arms and legs scrabbled against the sand. Marek's aim had been true, both the heart and lung had been sliced open. It was a messy affair, but then again it almost always was in this line of work. The man turned his head to Marek, a look of pure hatred set in his face.

"See, the thing is, you have four poisons you use, they're fast acting too. The problem for you is there's an antidote for each of 'em." Marek grimaced at the thought of the concoction he drank a few minutes ago, "The taste is almost enough to make you want to just up and die though, and there's a minute or two where you still feel it. If you'd used the right one, I'd have had to sit longer before I could really move but that one's rare enough it was worth the risk." He took a moment to pluck the small knife from his left leg and fetch the another vile from his coat. Thankfully it hadn't broken in the fall. After downing it, he waited a bit while the damage to his legs healed. "Well, shame for you I only had one of those on me." Marek looked back a the now still Stafford, "Never mind, you're already dead."

The dead man should have had the artifact in his possession. Much like Marek stored his own important belongings, it would have been put in a hidden pocket, well inside the man's long coat. It was a shame the dagger had pierced the coat, it was a quality garment and would've fetched a better price without the holes in the front and back or the red stains. Marek pulled the coat free from the corpse and felt around the lining. After a moment's search, he finally found the piece he was looking for, a simply carved red stone. The dark hues on the stone's surface swirled around with energies as if the thing was alive. By itself, the stone was of limited use. A catalyst was needed to bring the artifact's power to the fore, which, if Marek guessed correctly, was what the second smuggler carried.

His leg still ached, not that there was anything physically wrong with it, but potion or no the area would be tender for a few days at least. Well, his mission was to secure at least one of the items, preferably the stone he now held, so that was at least done. Marek stashed this away in his own coat, then set about the task of finding whatever else Stafford carried that was of value. The man had four more of the throwing knives, along with an appropriate holder, and coin amounting to just over two heads. The dagger wasn't bad and neither were the boots for that matter. Add in the extra horse and he had a decent haul, all things considered. Now to deal with the next matter.

* * *

Marek had returned to the inn, thanking the stable hand for holding his bags even if it was a bit past midnight by the time he got back. Marek gave him the extra horse and boots, mark removed of course, as a bonus for keeping his end of the bargain. As predicted, the nag went for far more than its worth an hour or so after the main event at the arena. All in all, he'd helped the fellow out quite a bit, so if he ever did have to make it back this way at least he'd be on good terms with one person.

The rest of the settlement would probably be another story by the time morning came. Marek was back at the arena, slinking around the outer edges of the building. By this time it should be empty, apart from a few guards and maybe some animal handlers. The money would have been moved elsewhere, but that wasn't his goal anyway. What he was looking for was any way to get into the basement section without having to infiltrate the main building. Since they had a Saiyou, they'd need to have a stove or fireplace, something which would give it warmth, hell even a vent for an open fire. Without heat, it'd slow to a crawl and based on the fight he saw, this Saiyou was definitely not slowed.

He had his cloak on, even in the city the ubiquitous color of the sands flowed everywhere making it easy to hide in the shadows should the need arise. He had to be extremely careful, one on one against the smuggler was one thing. Stafford's abilities were fairly known in certain circles, and Marek's specialty was ambush and surprise. Deceit could work just as well as raw skill if applied right, but facing an entire town left little room for that kind of delicate touch.

The pipes were difficult to spot, truth be told he almost stumbled over one of them, as both were painted fairly close to the same color as the sands. There were two openings, a small metal shaft stuck up from the ground with a vent cap on the top, likely a chimney, and beside that another slightly wider one with bars, though it was only wide enough for a very small child to fit through if someone removed all the obstructions first. Inside, there was no light, but even from here the smell of animal cages was wafting up through the tiny window. There wasn't much he could do, the bars prevented entry and both openings were far too small. He'd have to do it the hard way.

* * *

He glanced cautiously to each side, he'd seen lights at the main entrance so he discarded that route from the get go. Just his luck that some poor soul was left in the building standing guard. He made his way carefully to the eastern side entrance. The light of the moon was casting shadows here which gave him just a bit of extra cover. The locks on the place were rather bulky things, large, not terribly complex, but very durable. The sand probably made finer locks an impossibility for anything facing the outside. He pulled a small pouch of tools from his coat, the thing had several secure pockets hidden inside for many such items, and set to his work. After a few moments, he carefully turned the lock, easing it over until it clicked into its open position. Marek replaced the picks quickly and stashed them back in the coat.

Very carefully, he eased the door open just a sliver. This was one of the side doors where people exited after the events of the evening finished. There wasn't any light spilling from the tiny crack, thankfully this part of the arena seemed deserted. Marek listened for a second at the crack then quickly and quietly slipped the door open enough that he could slide through. Once inside he pulled the door shut, easing the thing the final bit so that he'd remain silent. He paused here, the hall was nearly pitch black and he needed to wait for his eyes to adjust. The place certainly didn't smell any better empty compared to when it was full. The air just didn't move. It hung lifeless and still, looming with the fragrance of stale sweat and drink.

Based on the location of the vent and window, the basement rooms were to the north and south, lining up fairly well with the barred gates of the pit. If he moved north along the hall and rounded the corner, he'd end up at the money counter and the ramp way which lead to the seating. Thinking back, the guards were stationed a short ways behind the counter, and there had been a door or two there. It was as good a place to start as any, and there did seem to be some light at the northern end of the hall.

Marek moved quietly as he could, silence was his ally here. The light was coming from around the corner, somewhere along the northern hall and it seemed to be stationary. The shadows weren't moving as if someone was carrying a lamp, it was probably set somewhere on one of the counters. If anyone lurked in the arena itself or the side halls there was only so much they could do without being noticed, but at the money counters, and whatever was behind them, there was certainly mischief to be made. The guards would probably stay there most of the time and make their rounds periodically, if they even bothered to do that much. Marek slid close to the corner, he didn't hear anyone, so he peaked around the edge.

There was a single guard seated at the counter, his attention captured by some sort of card game to pass the time. There were a couple of empty chairs across from the man and two mugs, so at least three were on duty tonight. He flipped over another card and scowled, then dropped it on a small pile before pulling another into his hand and muttering some sort of swear at his luck. Marek looked back down the hall he was hidden in. His own luck was rather suspect this evening, as the southern corner of the main hall was just barely illuminated, though the light was growing brighter. At least one of the fellow's companions was on their way back.

Marek pulled one of the poisoned throwing knives free. The toxin acted quickly, and if his aim was true, the card player wouldn't even fall from his chair. He poked his head just barely past the corner, the man was still alone, musing about where to place the card he held out.

Marek lined up his throw. The knife went undetected right until it sank into the man's left shoulder. He gave a small yelp of surprise, though he'd have felt the impact more than any sting from the wound. The guard looked down at the blade protruding from his arm, his face wore a rather odd combination of confusion mixed with the lack of coordination that accompanied the toxin. His right hand dropped the card and he reached for the blade. His hand never quite made it before his body went limp. The man's arms thudded against the table and his head slouched forward. It was a curious feeling, being awake and not actually being able to move anything. The toxin shouldn't be fatal, it was intended to keep the victim alive and able to feel whatever was being done to them.

Marek slipped past the fellow slumped in the chair, pulling the small throwing knife free as he passed, and stood on the incline to the seating area with his back pressed against the wall. At most the man would have been able to move his eyes, so for now he was stuck staring at the game he'd been losing, looking for all purposes that he'd fallen asleep from boredom while playing. The guard's breathing was reflexive at this point, a slow and steady rhythm. With his head slumped forward, he even made a slight snoring sound.

It wasn't long before the second guard made his way down the hall. Marek heard a slight grunt of disgust as the man on patrol spotted his co-worker sleeping on the job.

"Aleric, wake up." The man strode forward angrily when he didn't receive a response. "Damnit, I said wake..." His voice trailed off as he saw Aleric's eyes were open and darting around. It took a moment for the guard to notice the red splotch and neatly sliced fabric on the other man's sleeve and another moment to process it all. Having put two and two together, he spun around quickly knowing that an unseen threat was there.

Marek waved at the man with a lopsided grin, leaning against the wall as he simply waited.

"The hell you done to Alerish..." The guard's voice failed and he stumbled a half step before falling loosely to the floor in mid stride, a small knife handle protruded from his back.

Marek took a brief glance down both the western and eastern halls. Seeing no one, he pulled the big fellow up, then deposited him in the chair opposite Aleric. It took a short bit of doing, but soon the man was hunched over the table, his head resting against his folded arms, looking every bit as if taking a nap. Marek grinned at his work before heading toward the doors behind the counters.

The third guard, if there was one, was no where to be seen. He could be somewhere else in the main arena, or he could also be downstairs, or even maybe behind one of these doors in an office. Marek would have normally cased a place like this out, but he already had completed his mission and he had to leave. The rescuing of the Saiyou was a secondary goal, but one the realm would demand given the circumstances.

The first door he tried was locked, so he moved to the second and the handle turned freely. With the door cracked open just a bit, he peaked inside and caught sight of stairs leading down just beyond the doorway. He slipped through the door, pulling it closed behind himself. The guards would be in no shape to tell anyone where he went, or really to do anything for that matter, so it was best to not leave any clues should someone begin to search for an intruder. The stairway was mostly dark, though a tiny scrap of light spilled from under the door at the end of the stairs.

Marek crept down the stairs, the only reason for a light would be if someone was down here, either that or someone was careless and left a lamp burning. As he got closer, he could hear voices,but they were muffled and sounded distant. It meant more than one person to deal with, but at least he might glean something useful if he could catch a bit of the conversation.

He checked the door, it was unlocked and opened into a hallway. A single torch burned in a wall sconce, but the hallway was empty aide from the flickering light. To the south were the pit gates, and to the north were two doors, one of which had lamplight pouring through the small gap between the floor and the door's edge.

"...and the damned thing refused an order," a man's voice carried the words. It sounded gruff and fairly angry.

"Aye, it did just that. Still though, if the aim was to impress..." And another voice that sounded a bit older than the first with a fairly heavy accent.

"It doesn't bloody well matter what effect I wanted," the first speaker was irate. His voice was raised only slightly as he cut the second man off. "I spent the last year working to break that beast so it'd do exactly what I wanted. The only thing it had to do was either get killed by the wolf, or savage the wolf's carcass. It was supposed to be a show, not some short, seconds long shit. The crowd cheered well enough, but you can bet tomorrow they'll be wondering if it's worth it."

The second man guffawed, "Ha! Now that's where we get to the point of the matter, eh? Reiger, you're too damn much of a showman. Plenty of flash in that fight. Lizard put itself on display, even if you feel otherwise."

"Oh, you're damned right it did, the problem is it disobeyed. What happens when it doesn't fight at all, or worse, people begin to think we're lining up things that can't stand against it on purpose." Marek heard something slam against a table, maybe the man's fist or a mug, "Think for a second, would you? Graveshold was the best fighter outside of the Lizard anywhere near here. Trained by knights in the prime of their craft, or that's what we heard. Sure, my bet was on the Lizard, I'd seen it fight, but the wolf was supposed to win. He had more experience in the pit, six years and not a damned person came close to besting him."

"Oh I've done plenty of thinkin', that I have." The second voice took on a more serious, almost conspiratorial, tone, "Problem is you're pushin' too hard for success here, Reiger. The beastie would go far in the world. Take what happened today and use it. Graveshold had a name, Reiger, not too big, but enough to get word out that you've a serious contender. Somethin' that could dispatch him in seconds flat would get you into some serious matches, and with that a better purse."

Marek had heard enough, there wasn't anything more to gain from listening in. One of the men was a promoter, or trainer, it didn't matter too much either way, and the second man mattered even less. Whatever plans the two were hatching wouldn't be of any use, given their Lizard would be gone before too much longer.

Marek turned his attention to the other door. This one was quiet and dark, and unfortunately locked. He pulled his dagger, setting it down quietly after he freed it from its sheath. He then pulled his tools out, along with a small bottle which was also set to the side. The conversation behind him was still going on as the man continued to fume about the Saiyou's disobedience. The idiot was demanding the Saiyou to commit something akin to cannibalism, of course it'd refuse. The lock on this door was a far more intricate affair than he'd faced previously. It took a bit longer than he expected, he did have to keep an ear out in case the conversation turned and one of the men decided to leave, but the lock did eventually yield. He turned it very slowly, with only a faint click indicating he was done.

He froze long enough to confirm neither the men nor the beasts behind the door reacted to noise. Very gently, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. The animal smell that flitted through the crack was the same as he smelled from the vent outside. The room was fairly large and it held several cages against the walls. It was topped by a high ceiling and a small fire pit graced its center. He could make out the shapes of sleeping animals in the cages and the one farthest from the door held the Saiyou. It was sitting upright and looked at the door.

Marek pulled the door to, not shutting it completely, and turned his attention to the room with the men. The temperature down here was cold, the animals in the cages would be fine, but the Saiyou would need the heat from the fire before it could move well. That, in turn, would wake the beasts and any stealth he had would be lost. Marek moved his tools, the bottle, and the dagger then set to work. First he tested the knob gingerly. The door was unlocked, there was no reason for the men to be so kind as lock themselves inside. They were, however, moving onto other topics in their conversation. Rather than fuming over the Saiyou, the first man was now boasting about how much he earned. The second had been working to improve the first man's mood throughout their conversation and seemed happy for the topic change.

In a few moments, the lock was set. Marek packed up his tools, save for an older pick and a small funnel which he used to direct the bottle's contents into the lock. Marek then wedged the pick into the lock and held it still. It wasn't permanent, but the door did seem fairly sturdy and the lock was fouled enough that opening it would take a fair amount of time. The bastards in the room were still going on about their finances, oblivious to their more immediate problem of being trapped for quite a while. He had a fairly secure escape route, now to see if he could get the Saiyou to some along.

* * *

Aiyesh woke with the knowledge that she was cold, wet, and probably bore a few more scars. She pushed herself up, hissing at the throbbing pains that ran along her back and arms. Each spot a spear had made contact was another angry flare of nerves she had to deal with, one of the hairless had even jabbed her in the snout. It was a laborious task just getting herself upright.

What was it that had roused her in the first place? A bit of sand trickled down from the window. It wouldn't be the first time a curious creature had examined around the bars, most of the time they scampered around the edges and wandered off. A few of the smaller varieties tended to explore beyond the bars though and would occasionally fall through, eventually becoming a snack for whatever was lucky enough to snag the thing.

She could hear muffled voices. Some of the hairless were talking but it was in the rooms beyond. Try as she might, she still couldn't make out their words, or even distinct voices for that matter. If they'd been particularly loud it might have broken through the hold that the chill had over her. Whatever the case, at least she was awake, but it'd take warmth for her mind and body to be fully alert.

She glanced at the fire pit. They'd need to keep the fire going overnight before much longer, at least if they intended to hold her in any sort of good health. It was hard to keep herself focused, chilled as she was. The floor of her prison was soaked, probably a result of being dowsed with more cold water after she was hauled back here. At that point though it was mere spite, she wasn't even conscious.

Pushing her treatment aside, she worked to calm herself and sit in quiet reflection. It'd been some time since she'd last done so and her moods were the worse for it. The cooler temperature was at least helpful for this, it was similar to training she'd been through years ago. Neglecting her balance was what the hairless would want anyway, a savage posed little threat. If she lacked calm and focus she'd potentially miss an opportunity to escape this place.

Without the stars or moon, it was impossible to track the passing of time. Once night set in, her prison was just dark then predawn with an immeasurable span that connected the two. The night marched on at its own pace while she sat motionless. Eventually the voices from outside faded into little more than background noise as her mind stilled. She was staring forward, though little registered as the room was also pushed from her thoughts. A blanket of gray enveloped her senses, leaving the cold prison and her physical discomfort obscured and pushed just to the edges of perception.

Click.

The tiny unnatural sound registered against the fog. Her mind snapped free from its trance, jarring her back to the reality of the room, the beasts, the cold, and the slight movement of the door. The hall wasn't exactly bathed in light, only a tiny bit filtered through the crack. Dark as the hall was, her room was darker still and the door was opened only the smallest of amounts, she couldn't see anything telling. The beasts didn't even stir, their bodies moving only in the steady breathing of slumber. Something had opened the door though, and just as quietly as it opened the door, it pulled the door closed.

Aiyesh blinked a few times as she watched the door. She heard nothing beyond the muffled voices, and given the strong odors here, it was little wonder she didn't smell anything amiss either. Perhaps it was a thief, there were only a few reasons for anyone to be skulking around late at night, and this seemed the most likely. If it was, so be it. She held no loyalty the the hairless of this place, quite the opposite actually. Whatever the case, she wished the robber good hunting and began to settle herself again.

This time there was no click, the door just slid open and back again. Someone had slipped inside, and that someone was being very quiet. She narrowed her eyes, the cloaked figure stood just past the door not making any movements. The beasts remained quiet, as did the figure, and after a short moment passed, the figure in the cloak strode towards her. It made nearly no sound until it knelt in front of the door of her cage.

This close, there was no mistaking the scent of one of the hairless. The cloak was pushed off to one side and the male begin pulling items from a well worn coat. He was dirty and smelled mostly of hay and horse, though he also had the smell of blood on him, and it was recent. She hissed softly, a verbal warning anyone would understand regardless of species.

The man didn't stop his work, but he did look up and eventually pulled the hood back once he was done with unpacking his coat. This one took to the practice of trimming the hair that grew around his face, but it had been sometime since he last did so. Curly dark hair sat atop his head, not as short as most of the hairless males, not that it was nearing the length worn by most of the females either. He spoke in hushed tones using the damned babble of the hairless. She didn't understand a word of it and so she simply stared at him.

He looked back at her, his eyes glancing over her with a mix of both concern and concentration. "I am a friend. Marek," the man motioned to himself as he spoke slowly and softly. Aiyesh felt her eyes widen in shock. "You know, understand, what I say, yes?" This hairless, Marek if she caught his name correctly, spoke with a heavy accent and his irregular cadence made it seem as if he was dragging seldom used words from memory. He had locked eyes with her, but held no aggression in his gaze.

"Aiyesh," she motioned to herself in the same way as he did, "I am called Aiyesh." She didn't break eye contact, choosing to follow his lead in this exchange. The hairless had vastly different concepts of manners than her own people.

"Good," the man's features softened into a look of relief, perhaps he had been worried she wouldn't understand him. "Are you hurt? Can you move?"

"I'm not badly injured," she pointed at the fire pit by way of explanation, "Just cold." Even talking with her temperature this low was difficult.

Marek looked back briefly then nodded. He took a small pouch in hand, it had several tiny metal sticks with odd looking bends near the ends. He bent over close to the door and she heard a few rattling noises as he worked, followed shortly by the clicking sound that signified the release from her prison. He pulled the door open before turning to the fire pit.

The animals in the cages were beginning to stir, between their conversation and the slight squeaking of the metal door, they'd made too much noise. Marek didn't seem particularly worried, in fact he set about lighting a fire. As the tinder caught and light flared forth, the beasts made their presence heard by growling and snarling at the unknown man, a few went so far as to ram against the metal bars or swipe their paws in his direction. Aiyesh pushed herself to her feet, the closer she was to the fire the faster she'd warm up. This Marek seemed adept at getting into places he shouldn't be, but was rather oblivious to the dangers of certain actions. Her body protested with every step being both stiff from the cold and sore from the spears. She got herself level with Marek and hunched down, "The noise will draw attention."

The man looked back at her. With the additional light from the fire, she could see his features clearly. He was fit, at least for one of the hairless, slim and wiry. His work, or rather what she guessed it to be, afforded him ample exercise. Brown eyes regarded her, with little flecks of blue here and there near the iris. The curly mass atop his head was indeed black. A smile framed his features, the man found mirth in the idea of being discovered, "Yes, I know." He pointed at the door, "Listen."

And so she did. The conversation which she heard only bits of had ceased, in its place was a rattling noise, followed by pounding, then shouting, and culminating in all three at once. They were making more noise than the beasts, the voices of the orange haired male and his short of stature assistant blended together in an enraged chorus. She resisted the urge to hiss.

"Don't like them?" Marek's smile held even with the noise, "Good. I don't either." His statement ended with a remark she knew was some sort of curse in his own tongue. She'd heard a few of the more creative insults translated, any number of which would fit here.

The fire was working its warming magic, her limbs beginning to feel alive rather than dead weights she was maneuvering by will alone. She stood and gave herself a little shake that ended in her tail tip. The movement brought forth a hiss as pain flared up from her tender skin, but that was of little concern. The men with spears weren't here, and even if they were, they would be on her level rather than jabbing down from a safe distance.

"First, we get out and away." Marek seemed to be reading her expressions as best he could, "If we are followed, we deal with it. I want to be gone before the town wakes." What he left out was taking revenge on the ones that richly deserved it. He noticed the scowl forming so he added, "Let them be. If you get away, they'll pay for it."

He made sense, as much as she'd like to be the one to deal with the matter, it was just unnecessary to her escape. Moreover, the bloodshed that ensued would leave her marked and create a heavy scent trail for pursuers to follow until she bathed. She managed to snort her disgust, but didn't press the matter.

Marek turned back to the fire, "How long? Before the chill is gone."

"I could leave now, but the warmer I am the better," she too looked back at the flames. The fire had grown quite healthy and was radiating heat as the light flickered and danced. Her people knew the importance of fire. The mastery of it was a gift from the greater dragons that once roamed the lands to their wingless kin. It let them be safe at night, active and ready when others of their lineage would be hampered by the cold.

"Fine." Marek turned to look at her, "I'm not like those," he nodded toward the source of the racket, "so I'll ask you first. I get you out, then we both head east, to the..." he was searching for the right wording again, "main town of my people. I won't take you unless that's what you want. I'll help you escape even if you say no the town."

Aiyesh kept her eyes on the flames. Her home lands were many weeks, if not months, worth of travel away. A mount would shorten that time, but she also didn't know where she was in relation to her lands either. If Marek knew of her circumstances, he didn't admit it or use it to his advantage. He even let her save face by making it her choice. Then again, he could be unaware of what he was doing and could be honestly trying to distance himself from the ones pounding with such fury. Either way, it reflected well on his character. Perhaps this hairless male was different from the others she'd encountered in the last turn.

Aiyesh gave a thump against the floor with her tail. The sudden noise from behind made the man startle slightly before he realized the source of the sound. "This is good. You may not know it as such, but that is my people's way of showing their approval." She looked at the door, "Come then, show me this city of yours."

Marek nodded, then stood and brushed himself off. He unfastened the cloak then handed it to her. "There's no other Saiyou here. Keep hidden under this. We may end up fighting our way out."

She took the cloak and pulled the hood over her head. Her snout poked out a bit, but it did serve to break up her shape. If she were in the shadows, and if someone wasn't looking too hard, she might be able to escape their notice. Maybe.

Marek grimaced, the cloak didn't work well given her body shape and it was clear that he knew it too. He eventually shrugged, his limited vocabulary probably kept him from being more articulate about the situation. The offer was genuine though, and it was better than the nearly nothing she was wearing. A simple loincloth was all they afforded her, the back section was split in half to allow for her tail's presence. After a moment's fiddling with the cloak, it was time to make their escape.

Directly outside of her prison was the door where her captors were trapped. The occupants had gone hoarse from their shouting and the door reverberated with their pounding. They'd switched to using something hard to hit the door with, maybe one of them struck the door with enough force to break a bone. A tiny sick of metal poked out from a hole under the door's handle, it looked similar to Marek's tools. The man had a mastery over the doors, more likely than not he'd done something to trap them in. Let them rot in a cage of their own making for once.

They moved through yet another door, one which was usually impossible to open, and up a section of dimly lit stairs. She'd never been up this way before, the doors were never opened to her apart from the gate to the pit and the room with the cages. This must have been how the guards moved. It was amazing how much the noise was diminished each time they passed through another door. As Marek silently closed this one, the protests of the trapped men faded completely.

There were several stands, one which had two people in seemingly sleeping positions. "Don't worry, they're not dead, just... can't move," Marek spoke in a low voice, careful in case someone else may be nearby. She felt he'd explain more if he could take the time and find the right words, but they were in a bit of a hurry.

Marek held his hand out and motioned for her to duck down behind one of the stands. She followed his line of sight, peering just above the counter. Someone was moving around beyond a slanted walkway, their lamp casting shadows which moved with the sway of someone taking careful steps. She ducked down lower, watching as Marek silently darted from behind the stand and around the darkened corner of the hall. He poked his head back, watching the walkway and motioned for her to follow.

She darted from her hiding spot, moving swiftly, but not nearly as silently as the man did, the claws on her toes clicked against the stone-like floor with each step. Marek winced at the noise but kept his eyes focused on the walkway. After a few seconds passed, he turned away and sprinted down the hall. She followed closely behind, wishing she had some foot coverings.

Marek slowed as he came to the door and pushed it open slightly. He briefly peered through the crack before he pushed the door open and pulled her through. Immediately after they were outside, he pushed the door shut, slowing at the last little bit so the only noise was the latch catching.

Aiyesh could see the tenseness ease from the man's features, "I have a horse. It's big so both of us can ride, but not too fast." Marek motioned back to the inside of the arena where it wouldn't be long before their actions were discovered, "We need to hurry."

She nodded, "How many watch the exits of this village?" While they may have to fight, it wasn't just the pit guards or the town watch that they'd need to deal with. Her own problems with the temperature would become an issue before the sun's warmth reached them, and if she had to fight, she'd rather do so while she still retained at least some of the fire's warmth.

Marek looked around briefly, scanning the area for anyone that may be out and about. "Two at each gate, some on the walls."

For someone not working with an extensive vocabulary, the man was doing rather well at making his points. He seemed smart enough, in spite of her initial thoughts. He'd also gone out of his way to ensure none were killed. She'd keep that in mind when dealing with the city guards. "Can you make the ones at the gate sleep?"

He shook his head, thinking for a moment, "Armor. They have armor." He motioned around himself as if outlining the protective gear, in case he'd used the wrong word.

"Yes, armor." She resisted the urge to laugh. "What about on the wall?"

"I'll need to be close enough to throw, but no armor," he opened his coat enough so that she could see the remaining two knives.

"Fine, Get your horse, I will follow. Anyone along the wall, you take. I get the gate." It was a simple plan so far less could go wrong than if they came up with something more complicated. She'd skulk along, pacing him using the side streets and alleys, then either follow the horse or just rush the two guards when the time came. If anyone else was close enough, he'd let the knives do their work.

Marek nodded, and set off to collect his horse. She waited a bit then followed, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Outside in the sand her feet were nearly silent. Foot coverings or none, a hairless would have a hard time detecting her, even without the ill-fitting cloak.

It was still dark outside. The town was slumbering away, the only exceptions to this were Marek. his horse, and herself. Somewhere, there were supposed to be town guards along the walls, but she hadn't seen any, and they were nearing the eastern gates. The two guards yawned as Marek approached on his horse, alert wouldn't exactly be her description of them. Aiyesh had crept along the alleyways keeping the horse in view and herself concealed while she watched his handling of the situation.

Marek said some words of greeting, then gave the men a tip of his hat. Without understanding their language she had to trust someone she barely knew. He could double cross her and she'd be none the wiser until it was too late. The men had those damned spears, even if they weren't at the ready now, they'd see her coming if they looked back. There wasn't any cover between the side of the building and where they stood, just a fairly long expanse of open space dusted liberally with sand.

One of the guards responded, there was an exasperated sigh at the end of it. He exchanged a few more words with Marek before reaching his hand out. Marek nodded, then gave the man a few coins, then he said something else and added a few more into the pile.

The guard raised his voice, nodding to someone up on the walls. Two men emerged from the edge of the wall, leaning over the railing to talk with the other guards. Aiyesh figured the situation out immediately as Marek reached in his coat. She broke out from her cover in a full speed run, sprinting across the sands with the speed only her people possessed. The men on the walls gave a brief yelp of surprise as they were struck with the tiny throwing knives. The guards on foot were shouting at Marek, readying their spears and training their attention fully on him. Marek gave the horse's reigns a quick whip and kicked into the animal's sides, shouting and urging it forward in an effort to avoid the spears.

The guards were focused entirely on the man and horse, one hefting the spear into a throwing position. Aiyesh spun twice, the first just before they were in her tail's reach, but by the second rotation that distance had closed considerably. One turned, hearing the whip-like sound, the other was too busy shouting to even notice it. When her tail did connect, the helm of the first guard flew through the air spinning wildly. The second suffered a glancing blow nearer the top of his helm, knocking it off and embedding the metal gear in the sand with a dull thud. The guards recoiled from the impact, one of them dropped loosely to the ground in a crumpled heap. The other went stiff and eventually fell like a plank of wood against the packed earth roadway.

Marek pulled back on the horse's reigns and gave a low whistle of approval at her effective work. She stood still, looking at the two guards and taking a moment to catch her breath from the sudden exertion as he stilled the horse.

He nodded to the spears laying on the sandy road and held his hand out, "Grab those, then we leave." Aiyesh nodded and took the spears. They both startled at a sudden thud in the sands beside the wall. One of the men had gone limp and fallen through the railing, landing in a rather comical position with his limbs splayed in random directions. She laughed for a second, it was the first time she'd done so in over a turn.

* * *

Marek had read theories about the origins of demi-humans and even looked through the histories in the capital, some of which dated over a thousand years prior. The knowledge had been preserved through the ages by being transcribed as the original documents became too old to handle without extreme care. Supposedly a few of the oldest scrolls in the royal archives were written in elven. Whatever the case, the stories themselves were quite interesting.

Long ago, well before the current age and even the one prior, the first humanoid animals appeared. The gnolls were supposedly a cross between demon and hyena, living weapons crafted by a demonic being bent on sheer destruction. An army of them was unleashed on an unsuspecting world and the resulting wars devastated civilization. For quite some time the human like races were pushed to the brink. It was a united effort on the part of elves, humans, and dwarfs that eventually defeated the hordes which had been set loose.

Many of the remaining gnolls stayed true to their master's will, becoming little more than roaming packs bent on destruction. Others broke free and lived as nomads or eventually worked their way into human societies. The other demis appeared well after the gnolls first arrived, their existence serving as a counter to the threat the gnoll packs posed, along with whatever else may be released. The histories said that a combination of elf, human, and even dragonic mages worked toward their creation, using humans as the base and merging them with other mammals. The sole exception to this were the Saiyou, their heritage owing to both humans and dragons, plus whatever reptilian ancestor was used.

The demis had their own cultures and oral traditions which explained their origins, many of them tracing their creation back to the will of a patron deity. Marek had chatted with Vince about this a few times. The fox agent knew both what he'd been told by his parents as well as what the archives said, and he viewed the situation in a pragmatic way. To him, it wasn't important how his people came about, it was what they were going though now that mattered. The idea that the demis had been created by humans was used as a justification for their enslavement in other kingdoms, completely ignoring the reasons why they were created in the first place.

Marek could believe that the Saiyou had some drgonic heritage given that he'd seen one up close now. There wasn't a reptile, as far as he knew anyway, that had the leg structure or a foot with three primary toes and two much smaller digits on either side that Aiyesh had. Her thick tail was what he considered a general reptilian shape, but her upper body was a blend of humanoid and reptilian features. Yes, she had a snout, but it wasn't as pronounced as an average lizard and her face was far more expressive. Her arms weren't much thicker than a human's upper arm, but they didn't taper off at the forearm as a human's did. Her hands were functionally equal to his own, a thumb like digit on the inside and four claw tipped fingers, but the overall shape was, well, dragon like if the pictures of them held any basis in reality.

Marek thought on these things as they rode. Aiyesh still had the cloak on and was riding with her arms wrapped firmly around his waist. They were making fairly good time, he thought anyway, and in the hour or so since their departure from the settlement, they'd retrieved one of several supply stores he'd stashed far from the settlement's borders. Aiyesh was worried about the temperature, with fall closing in the night air was cold and it'd remain chilly for another hour at least. This was another reason she held on as tightly as she did, as much as he was a rescuer, he was also a heat source.

What they did need to do was keep moving. If anyone tried to pursue them, it was a matter of two people on one horse trying to outrun a host of people riding much less burdened mounts. Marek had to use the terrain to his advantage when possible, all the while still heading toward the east. It was a balance between making good progress and making it as difficult to track them as he could.

He had no idea if Aiyesh had any experience with horses, but for the time being his companion seemed to be doing well enough. By late morning the chill of the air had been replaced with a rapidly intensifying heat. The sands would be burning hot before much longer and the horse would need to rest. The Saiyou had perked up as well, actively watching the barren scenery go by and scanning for any sign of men from the settlement. The lands here were far from flat. Sand, parched earth and wind still dominated the landscape, but rocky features jutted from the uneven ground. Marek looked over his shoulder, "See anything?" His command of the demi's common language was limited in terms of speaking it. He understood it well enough, but without using it regularly, he had trouble framing anything more than simple sentences without spending a fair amount of time trying to remember the words.

"No, at least nothing bad. There may be some shelter within those." She pointed towards an outcropping of rocks ahead. There would at least be shade, along with whatever other critters sought refuge from the oppressive heat.

Marek nodded and turned the horse, he'd been thinking on examining that area as well. They'd already passed by several promising stopping points, each one would be a place for would-be pursuers to have to check so long as the horse wasn't leaving much of a definitive trail behind.

The outcropping was more than adequate for their needs. It had room for the both of them plus the horse in the shade and enough jutting formations to keep them hidden while they rested. Marek's fears of the place being taken by a larger predator were unfounded, a dried carcass of something long since dead was all that remained of anything large enough to pose a threat. There were a few smaller lizards which had taken up residence, but Aiyesh made short work of these using a lightning imbued spear. She didn't need to land a killing blow, just making contact was enough to stun two of them and the rest scurried away.

The horse was a bit uneasy with the smells of the place, a stale predator's scent lingered here, but Marek managed to tie it off to one of the rocks while keeping it mostly calm. Some feed for the horse went a long way towards easing its tensions, the feedbag kept it chewing contentedly while also blocking out the unsettling odors. With the horse taken care of, Marek covered himself with the cloak to prevent any glare then checked the horizon with his spyglass. "Nothing out there, just hot sand and rocks." Not that he expected anyone in the midday heat, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Aiyesh had eaten one of the lizards and was keeping occupied with gutting the second one. Her answer drifted over her shoulder, "I didn't expect anyone, you've been careful."

"Careful or not, there's ways to follow," he said flatly. Part of his tone was based on past experiences, he'd even used one such way in getting the artifact. Most demis knew of workings, but he had neither the time nor vocabulary to try and explain magecraft. Aiyesh shrugged, she probably didn't think the matter was worth worrying over. In truth, it wasn't. They either were followed or had eluded pursuit. The nights may be cooler, but the days were still blistering and this held for both them and anyone tailing them. They had about eight hours until the heat would abate enough for traveling again, so there would be little for him to do other than rest. He sat down a ways back in the shade, yawning as he stretched out, the cloak underneath him.

Aiyesh had taken several cuts of meat from the second Lizard and was using one of the sun heated rocks to dry them for later. She had scooped out a shallow spot in the sands and buried what was left from the two kills, it'd be enough to keep them from attracting anything too large. She glanced back at the sound of his yawn, "Sleep. I will guard, then we switch."

Marek nodded his acceptance then pulled his hat over his eyes. He'd been going for the whole night and most of the day prior. Sleep was a good idea indeed.

* * *

Aiyesh poked her head around the rocks, there was still nothing out there moving, and she didn't think there would be. It was hot, even for one of her kind, but the hairless fared worse in these conditions. Marek hadn't taken long to fall asleep, she sensed he was tired well before they stopped here. The horse was doing well enough. It'd need a bit of water before they started again, but the feed had done wonders for its mood.

Her own hunger was finally dealt with, the first lizard wasn't overly large but it was fresh and tasted far better than whatever scraps the hairless had been feeding her. The second provided a bit of extra meat for later, the rations that Marek had didn't smell overly appetizing. They were edible, but that was all the good she could say for them.

She turned from the rocks and watched Marek's sleeping form. Prior to her captivity, she didn't have much of an opinion on the hairless one way or the other as she just didn't have any interactions with them. There were caravans that passed near their lands on occasion, but these traded with the craftsmen and foragers of her people. Everything she saw in the hairless since then was just one atrocity heaped upon another. Even now, she half expected Marek to turn on her at any moment, but so far he'd kept to his word. It was a gamble even trusting him in the first place.

Still though, the man had helped her out, and he certainly didn't seem to have pilfered anything of value from the pit, herself excluded. If not a thief, then what exactly was he doing there? There was much about her companion that she didn't know. Regardless, he treated her as an equal, not some sort of lesser creature, and that at least counted for something.

For the next hour or two she kept herself busy with the less than exciting tasks of keeping watch and listening to Marek's soft breathing. As she poked her head around one of the rocks on the western side of their temporary camp, her body tensed. The orange haired man, her tormentor for the past turn, was just over the horizon with no less than twenty of his men.