Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

“Brandon Bluestone, I arrest you in the name of the League of Enforcers!” cried the swordsman. His attention quickly shifted. “And Garren Bluestone, you’re coming along too this time. You’ll be charged, I daresay, with harboring a fugitive!”

Kondike leaped to his feet, barking and hurling himself at the hammer-wielding dwarf. That fellow, caught by surprise, took a wild swing at the dog. He missed and went down screaming, dropping his hammer as he struggled to hold the snapping jaws at bay.

Brandon instinctively leaped to his feet, snatching up his axe, as two more of the black-clad Enforcers rushed through the door with their short swords drawn. Gretchan scooted to the side, clutching her staff, and Brandon’s father stepped in front of his wife. As Brandon unveiled his legendary weapon, the Enforcers hesitated, eyeing the keen, shiny blade.

He was vaguely aware that the priestess was chanting something.

Then the room filled with smoke, a churning mist so thick, he couldn’t see. He heard a loud thump, and one of the Enforcers cursed and toppled with a crash. Then someone-Gretchan, he realized-took him by the hand and jerked him toward the front door. He bumped into a dwarf-from the feel of the leather tunic, he knew it was one of the king’s men-and put down his shoulder, driving the Enforcer, hard, into the wall. Still holding onto the cleric’s hand, Brandon waved his axe, hearing the blade clash into a sword.

Somewhere nearby, his mother screamed.

Run!” Gretchan insisted in a hoarse whisper, still pulling on Brandon’s hand as they stumbled into a murky fog so thick that the dwarf couldn’t see his axe blade, which he was holding up in front of his face. Kondike barked and growled frantically, and he heard an Enforcer cry out somewhere behind them. His shoulder had slammed into the doorframe as the priestess pulled him outside; then they were in the street, boots scuffing on the cobblestones.

That thick murk still surrounded them, more like fog or smoke, but lacking any smell or sense of wetness.

“Kondike!” Gretchan snapped, before jerking Brandon’s hand, pulling him away from the uproar at the Bluestone home.

He hated the thought of fleeing his house when he knew that the Enforcers were confronting his parents. And how had they found him so quickly? Had Bondall betrayed him? Even as he entertained the thought, he rejected the notion. Apparently Heelspur was concerned enough about Brandon to make sure his home was constantly watched.

They ran a few more steps, still blinded by the fog. “What is this damn murk?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Why can’t we see?”

“It’s just a little spell, dearie,” the priestess replied, grunting as they bumped into some hapless pedestrian and bowled the cursing dwarf over. “It will give us a few moments to conceal ourselves, hopefully escape. But not for long, so hurry!”

“But my father!” Brandon protested even as they broke out of the cloud to find themselves on the street a short distance away from the Bluestone home. Kondike raced at their heels, his hackles high, mouth hanging open to reveal his tongue and long teeth. “They’ve got my parents now!” He glanced back and saw that the obscuring cloud still churned in front of the Bluestone domicile. But the vapor seemed to be thinning, and his companion pulled hard on his hand.

“And they’ll have you in their clutches too if you want to go back there and act the hero,” Gretchan insisted sharply. “Do you think your father wants that?”

“No,” he admitted, once more following along.

“If we’re free,” she added, “we might be able to help them more.”

Even as she spoke, he saw three more big dwarves, wearing the black leather tunics he’d already come to despise, moving into the street before them to block their path of escape. The two on the flanks each drew a sword, while the third, weapon sheathed, advanced between them and held up a hand.

“Halt in the name of the League of Enforcers!” demanded that one.

Kondike lowered his head and put on an explosive burst of speed. He sprang into the air and smashed the unarmed dwarf in the chest, snarling jaws snapping at the flailing Enforcer’s beard. Brandon raised his axe and charged at one of the swordsmen.

As the other moved to help his comrade, Gretchan shouted one word at him: “Stop!”

Immediately the dwarf froze in his tracks, his body contorting as he tried to move feet that had apparently been cemented to the street. “What in Reorx’s name …?” he demanded.

Brandon slashed his axe at the third Enforcer and knocked the dwarf’s sword free, the weapon clanging and spinning across the stones of the roadway. He lowered his shoulder and barreled into the disarmed dwarf, sending the fellow tumbling backward. He and Gretchan plunged past and raced away, the priestess again calling back to Kondike. With a last snap of his powerful jaws, the big animal bounded after his companions.

“This way,” Brandon urged, giving Gretchan’s hand a tug. They raced down the street, past the Cracked Mug. A crowd, attracted by the commotion, was gathering outside the bar. Brandon was gratified as the dwarf citizens parted for them then closed in behind, providing another few seconds’ gap between the fleeing fugitives and Lord Heelspur’s Enforcers.

Brandon aimed for the nearest of the connecting stairwells, reasoning that they would have a better chance of losing their pursuers if they could escape from that level of the city. But as soon as they veered around another corner, he saw more of the black-garbed agents standing guard before the landing leading into the stairwell. There were something like a dozen of the dwarves in that detachment, and seeing Brandon and Gretchan, half of them charged while the others held their position at the stairwell.

“How many of those bastards are there?” Brandon wondered out loud, looking back to see more of their pursuers emerging from the crowd outside the Cracked Mug. He spun around, momentarily at a loss for direction, and was startled again when Gretchan barked an order and took off running. “Follow me!”

He was swept along, quickly sprinting up to her side. “You should let me lead!” he insisted. “I know this city!”

“I have a plan!” she shot back. More of the Enforcers appeared in front of them, so detachments were closing in from three sides. Gretchan startled him by tugging him around another corner.

“Not this way; we’re going to be trapped!” he cried out.

She plunged on, while he felt he had no choice but to follow. They ran down a narrow lane between bustling shops selling food, fabrics, drinks, and tools. Dwarf merchants and customers dodged out of their way, cursing. Kondike’s sudden appearance caused a young dwarf maid to scream, and Brandon knocked over the handcart of a vendor selling savory mushroom tarts.

“Sorry!” he called over his shoulder, still plunging onward behind Gretchan.

The fugitives approached one last intersection, beyond which loomed a wide plaza and the lip of the great Atrium of Garnet Thax.

Brandon was momentarily relieved as Gretchan skidded to a halt at the last side street before the Atrium. They could turn right or left and keep running; if they continued straight ahead, they’d be trapped at the lip of the sheer cliff wall. She whistled sharply, and Kondike stood rigid, staring at her with upraised ears.

“Kondike-go!” she commanded, pointing down the side street. “Run!”

Immediately the big dog spun about and sprang away, his long legs carrying him quickly along the lane, parallel to the edge of the Atrium. Crouching low above the street, the dog stretched out and sprinted in a blur of speed, dashing among the startled dwarves to all sides. In a flash he was gone from view, though Brandon could track his swift progress by the startled reactions of dwarf pedestrians who scrambled to get out of his way as the dog ran farther and farther away from his two companions.