Dean turned to find the grey-bearded Watchmen standing in the alley, his face red with anger.
“You,” the man repeated, his hands tightening into fists. “Thought you could give us the slip, eh? Thought we wouldn’t find you?”
Dean tensed, glancing back at the mouth of the alley. There were people passing by, but none were looking in their direction. The music and sound of laughter and dining was loud enough to block out the watchman’s words. If he called for help, would he even be heard? Would the watchmen that came to investigate be friendly or hostile?
All these questions and more raced through Dean’s mind as he shook his head, trying to clear it of the buzz.
“Look,” he said, holding up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble. I haven’t broken any laws here, and it’s clear both of us are just trying to have a nice night out. Why don’t we j-“
“Don’t try to negotiate with me, boy, you’re in no position.”
The Watchmen took a threatening step forward, and the nearby light of a street lantern fell across his face. The redness on his cheeks wasn’t just anger, Dean realized with a sinking feeling. The man was drunk, and there would be no reasoning with him.
“I shouldn’t have gone easy on you,” slurred the man, striding towards Dean with intent. “In my years on the Watch, I’ve learned that your kind only respond to one thing.”
He drew a stun baton from beneath his sash, and the runes on the handle glowed.
“Force.”
Dean only smiled tightly, the expression never reaching his eyes.
“Must we do this again? It didn’t go so well for you last time.”
Anger flashed in the watchman’s eyes, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. He lifted his baton, intending to charge at Dean but before he could make it a step, there was a flash of motion from behind. The loud, meaty thud that echoed through the alleyway went largely unnoticed by those passing by.
The Watchman staggered, a comical expression of disbelief on his face. Then he toppled forward into a puddle of muck.
“Charming,” said Shae, prodding him with an elegant shoe. She was carrying her large battle axe in one hand, the blade facing sideways.
“Solid hit,” Dean mused, rubbing at his eyes. “I suppose I should thank you.”
Shae only shrugged.
“As far as I’m concerned, the Academy Watch is way out of line. I was only helping to um,” she stepped neatly over the unconscious Watchman. “Restore order. Where’s Finn?”
Dean blinked. In his distraction, he had almost forgotten the reason he had come out to the side alley. He whirled, at the same time pulling his sword from his inventory so it appeared to materialize from thin air. His whole body was vibrating with tension as he stared into the darkness, searching for any sign of danger.
Shae came up beside him, her face growing serious.
“What is it?” she asked, hefting her axe uncertainly. But the alleyway was mostly silent. Dean stared, eyes searching for any sign of what he’d seen before. But he could see no motion, no glowing orange-red eyes. Had he been mistaken?
“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just… I thought I was something.”
Shae gave him an odd look as the door behind him opened once more. Ten strode out of it, hands stuffed in his robe pockets. When he spotted the two of them with their weapons drawn, he froze. Then he saw the unconscious Watchmen sprawled across the cobblestones.
“Was I missing fight?”
“Not much of a fight,” said Dean. “Old greybeard here uh took a tumble.”
Ten’s eyes flashed with amusement and he nodded.
“Ah yes,” he said. “Knock himself out. Where is Finnegan?”
Shae and Dean exchanged a look.
“That,” said Shae grimly as he lowered her axe. “Is that we’re trying to find out. He couldn’t have gone far you saw how drunk he was. Chances are he just passed out somewhere.
Dean nodded slowly.
“I thought I saw something down there,” he turned away from the vibrant light of the restaurant, gesturing into the darkness of the alleyway behind. Shae and Ten flanked him as he strode forward, still wary. It could have been a trick of the light, but deep down he had his doubts.
“I don’t see anything,” said Shae as they moved forward. “Just a bunch of old warehouse boxes. What is-“
She cut off abruptly as something burst from the darkness. The air rang with the sound of steel as Dean drew his sword. His heart was hammering, sweat prickling on his skin as the memories of fighting demons surged to the forefront of his mind.
But what shuffled towards them was no demon. A large fat back rat scurried from the shadows, its beady eyes fixed. After a moment, it turned and scampered back into the darkness.
“Agh,” said Shae. “I hate rats. That thing scared me half to death…” she trailed off as her eyes fixed on something and widened.
“Dean,” she said. Her eyes were wide as she stared past him. He followed her gaze.
In the cobblestones, half shrouded by shadow, a single polished boot lay on its side. A boot that looked strangely familiar. Dean knelt beside it, his heart sinking when he saw the piece of torn fabric. It was light and well-woven – the same threads that Finn had been wearing only moments ago.
“Blood.”
The word came from Ten. The monk was standing beside Dean, gazing into the darkness at the end of the alley. Sure enough, he could see it now. Thick and oozing. A trail of crimson liquid dripped across stone, ending in a smear the size of a hand.
“Gods above,” Shae hefted her axe and Dean followed her lead as they faced the darkness. “Someone attacked him? But who?”
“You tell me,” Dean griped, his sword in both hands, switching into a high guard and circling right. “Do you guys have any enemies?”
“Rivals, maybe. But enemies that would commit murder?”
It was a fair point.
“Look, the trail ends here. If anything, it looks like the wound was shallow. If it had been more serious, there would have been much more blood.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring. Our friend got attacked and is missing, but at least he’ll bleed out slowly!”
Dean grimaced.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-“
“No, it’s alright.” Shae closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, he saw that determined calm return to them.
“We need to find him. That’s our only priority.”
Dean nodded and gestured towards Ten with the blade of his sword. The Monk had gone completely still, staring down at something on the ground. A sewer grate, Dean realized as he moved closer. And it was open. The heavy rusted metal grate was ajar, a hole of darkness looming downward. On either side of the hoe were smears of dark red.
“Shit,” breathed Dean as he came to stand beside the monk. A damp breeze blew upward, bringing with it the metallic scent of blood and rust.
“They dragged him below the city. Into the cisterns, by the look of it.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“The only questions are who is “they” and what the hell do they want with Finn?” Shae’s face had paled, but the same determined steel still lit her eyes.
She’s tough, Dean acknowledged. But to venture down into the bowels of the city would take more than toughness.
“I don’t know. But we may have to consider that we might be out of our depth here. If Finn’s injured, then whoever or whatever attacked him is likely still down there. Going into this fight unprepared could be fatal.”
Shae’s expression hardened.
“But what’s our alternative. Finn is injured and losing blood. He might not be strong enough to fight back, and even if he was to beat his enemy, would he have the strength to make it back here?”
Dean rubbed his face with his free hand. He knew she was right, and yet, he was all too familiar with the dangers of Haven’s Sewer system.
“Look,” he said. “There is a reason people who go down there don’t come back. The Cisterns are old, older even than the founding of this city. At best, they are a maze filled with toxic fungi and month-old sewage. At worst, they can harbor much more unsavory creatures. Dangerous ones.”
Shae laughed tensely, but when Dean didn’t smile, her mirth faded, replaced by incredulity.
“Wait I thought the rumors about creepy sewer monsters weren’t real. Are you saying there are beasts down there roaming around under the city?”
Dean shrugged. In truth, he’d never ventured far into the sewers. But he knew enough to know that those who did rarely ever returned. The Cisterns were off limits in the lower city; whether they were haunted or simply occupied by gangs or smugglers was unknown to most.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But if we’re going to go down there, then we need to go prepared. We need gear, potions, and weapons.”
Shae smiled tightly.
“Good thing I always come prepared.”
From her inventory, she pulled out a breastplate, bracers, greaves, and a spiked helmet, which she flipped expertly in one hand. Ten didn’t bother with armor, but he did pull a pair of enchanted bangles from his inventory, which he slid onto each wrist. It was a bad idea, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t leave his friend to an uncertain fate. Their choices were limited. They could go to the Watch and ask for help, but in matters involving the Cistern, the guards rarely interfered. He supposed they could always ask Ryu and his party for help, but when he posed the idea, Shae shook her head grimly.
“Believe me, he won’t help us. After the exam, he sees us as nothing more than competition. Besides, do you really trust him or that rogue of his?”
Sighing, Dean was forced to concede that she was right. If they were going to go after Finn, then they were on their own. He pulled his own armor from his inventory, strapping it on piece by piece until he was fully kitted. It felt good to be in armor again – a uniform he’d worn for the past seven years. Then he checked his skill stats.
Name: Dean Thompson
Age: 17
Minor proficiencies: None
Class: to be determined
[INHERITED TRAIT:] Killing Intent 0/3
BASE STATS:
Strength: 20
Agility: 23
Power: 15
Resilience: 17
Current Armor: + 26
Current Damage: + 18
Not bad. His training had brought him closer than ever to his goal of maxxing his stats, but he wasn’t there yet. His strength and agility had increased since killing the nest boss, and he’d been working on raising his resilience on his own time. For now, his power stat was his biggest weakness. It would have to be enough. Dean opened his inventory, skimming the slots with his eyes until he found what he was looking for.
“I only have one minor health potion,” he said. “But everyone is going to need at least one. Shae, do you still have that anti-venom you took before we cleared the frog nest?”
The warrior nodded and produced a half-empty vial of dark green liquid.
“I do, but there's only enough for two swallows. I’m low as it is, and the effects start to wear off after 40 minutes.”
“You two take it, I have something of my own.” Dean patted his belt. Shae opened her mouth to argue but before she could, Ten snatched the vial from her hand and downed half the contents in a gulp. He shook his head, belching loudly.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “Alcohol and potion not mix.”
“Is he always this way?” asked Dean.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
She tilted back the vial and in one swift swallow finished off the contents, making a face. Ten began a series of fast-paced stretches to ready his muscles for martial use. Dean wasn’t an expert on those who fought unarmed, but he knew it was part of the process. It was said that some of the most powerful martial adventurers could use their entire body as a weapon. Judging by the musculature hiding beneath the monk's robes, Dean didn’t believe it was an exaggeration.
“Alright,” he said, adjusting his bracer strap until it was tight on his arm.
“If we’re going to do this, then we need to do it right. I’ll go first, and once we’re down there, either Shae or I should take point. The others need to flank right and left, and one of us will need to carry a torch or a lantern. The moon won’t provide enough continuous light to see anything coming at us.”
Shae nodded in agreement and rummaged in her inventory for a moment. She pulled free a pair of small fist-sized crystals, which she tossed to Dean.
“I don’t have an ever-burning lantern or anything like that, but these light crystals should have enough use in them to get us through an hour or so.”
The crystal was transparent, with a light blue hue at the center. When he squeezed it, a soft light emanated from it, cutting through the darkness for about ten feet in every direction.
“This should work,” he said, moving towards the sewer grate entrance. The light fell across the still-wet blood, making the crimson smears glisten. Holding it up high, Dean peered down into the cavern below. He could see damp stone walls in a tunnel leading downwards into the darkness. A small wooden ladder led down below, and when he shone the light over it, he could see that the wood looked half rotted.
I hope I’m not going to regret this, He thought as he swung one foot down.
The ladder creaked beneath his weight but thankfully it seemed to hold. He sheathed his sword at his side and placed the crystal between his teeth, freeing his hands for climbing. The light from the crystal bounced to and fro as he made his way down into the darkness. Phantom images of some twisted creature springing from the shadows at him played in his mind and his heart rate accelerated.
Relax, idiot. He told himself. Nothing you haven’t dealt with before.
Dropping to the stone with a soft splatter of water, Dean pried the crystal from his teeth and held it high. The soft white light cast strange shadows along the stone before him. He could see the tunnel sloping steadily downwards before him, and from it came the smell of metal and damp. There was only one way down to go.
“Clear,” he called back up to his friends. Moments later, he heard muttering as Shae shimmied down the ladder to join him.
“Shitty time to be wearing a dress,” she groused as her fancy shoes hit the water. “My tailor is going to have a heart attack.”
Ten was next, moving from rung to rung like a practiced acrobat. He avoided the puddle at the bottom of the ladder entirely, instead performing an acrobatic leap that propelled him to the dry stone five feet away.
“Impressive,” said Shae. “If not relatively pointless.” She pointed at the sloping tunnel, which led off into the watery darkness. “I’m afraid we’re going to get wet regardless.”
Dean held the light higher and allowed Shae to take point with her battle axe.
“Stay alert,” he said, extending his own mana sense outward. He could feel nothing in proximity to them, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Some creatures could cloak their essence signatures. Then again, so could skilled Adventurers. Whoever or whatever had attacked Finn might possess some sort of stealth ability, and he wasn’t willing to take any chances.
“You’re sure Finn didn’t have any enemies?” asked Dean as they made their way down the tunnel.
“I doubt it,” she said, keeping her voice ow. “I mean, you’ve met the man. He’s friendly, ridiculous, and a bit of an idiot. But I don’t think I’ve seen him quarrel with anyone.”
“Except for Ryu.”
Shae glanced at him, and in the strange light her eyes seemed to gleam.
“Except for Ryu,” she conceded reluctantly. “But I find it hard to believe that a simple petty rivalry could lead to something like this. Besides, he and his party were in the restaurant the entire time. If they planned to ambush Finn, I’m sure we would have noticed them leaving.”
Petty Rivalry? Clearly, she hasn’t spent much time around nobility. They’ll go to arms over the mildest of insults.
Still, her point made sense to him. The idea that somebody would stage a kidnapping of someone like Finn in the middle of a busy city just seemed unlikely.
But if it wasn’t a staged kidnapping, then what the hell happened here?
He was jarred out of his thoughts by a sound up ahead. The monk had moved toward the wall, his face drawn and serious as he examined something.
“Look,” he said, pointing to the wall ahead of them. Dean sloshed forward, lifting his light to illuminate the scene. Ten’s eyes were fixed on a point down the stone wall, where a single marking was visible. It was a bloody handprint, one that had been smeared along the wall as if someone had grabbed hold of it.
“He was dragged,” said Dean grimly. “And with a lot of force.” He bent forward, walking along the wall as he examined the ground. “He was pulled this way, but it looks like he managed to grab a hold here.”
He gestured to a bit of rusted pipe protruding from the wall. Water dripped from its mouth, the sound a slow and steady tapping. “He nearly ripped this out of the wall.”
Shae tightened her grip on the shaft of her axe.
“We need to move faster.”
“Agreed.”
They spread out again, keeping their eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble. Finn was fighting back to the best of his ability, but the amount of blood they were seeing did not inspire confidence. At a bend in the path the floor leveled out, and it was there that they found the arrow shafts.
“They’re his, alright,” said Shae, bending down to examine them. “Broken. They almost look shattered. Look at the splintered wood.”
“Not good,” muttered Ten as he nudged an arrow with his foot. Shae’s observation was correct. It appeared that Finn had found the opportunity to launch a counterattack, but judging by the graveyard of broken arrows, it had been ineffectual.
But what in the name of the Gods was he fighting?
Dean dropped a hand to the hilt of his sword, knowing he’d need to be ready to pull it at a moment's notice. They resumed their forward pace, their tension rising with every step. At some point, the trail of arrows stopped, and Dean’s heart squeezed in his chest. It seemed Finn had run out of ammunition.
Up ahead, the path split into two. One direction sloped upwards towards another wooden ladder and grate. Moonlight spilled from the grate, illuminating the only viable way ahead.
“Looks like we’re going down again,” said Dean as he stared into the path leading down into darkness. The blood trail led this way, and judging by the way the droplets still ran through the cracks in the stone, Finn was near.
“Come on,” said Shae. “He’s got to be close.”
They were only a dozen steps into the tunnel when a shout came from up ahead. It was faint, barely audible in the distant darkness. And yet it was unmistakable.
Shae’s head snapped up. “Finn!” she hissed, and before Dean could counsel caution, she was running forward into the darkness. Swearing under his breath, he exchanged a look with Ten before he and the monk tore after her.
