Shadowguard

The resounding slap that echoed through the cell as she slammed her knee into the junction between his legs filled her with immeasurable satisfaction. Landen's eyes bulged, his face contorted with pain as he crumbled to the floor with a soundless groan. Everna leaned down to retrieve the abandoned keys.

Blood rushed back to her hands as the shackles fell away. Ignoring the ache in her joints and the rapidly intensifying pain in her fingers, she wasted no time securing the shackles around his ankles. His leg twitched, as if he meant to kick at her, but he only curled further into himself, seething through his teeth.

"I'll fucking kill you for that."

Everna hummed as she secured the shackles. "You can try, but given Shroud's failure so far, all I hear are empty threats."

She unstrung his bow from his shoulder and liberated the accompanying quiver of arrows. It would be far easier to shoot him and be done with it, but as with Windmore, keeping him alive better served her circumstances. If Landen had indeed killed Mayor Ashburn, then he was her means of clearing up her issue with the Courts. Leah would worm the confession out of him if needed.

Keys in hand, she hurried to the cell door and peered into the hall beyond. She was at the far end, her cell butted up against the end of the corridor, which stretched for a couple hundred feet to her left. Dim torches, lit with a sickly red glow, lined the spaces between the cells. There were no guards.

She stepped from the cell and pulled the door shut behind her, the lock clicking into place. "Just do me a favor and stay there? Okay? I'll have my brother collect you shortly."

A string of curses and a pained groan was his only answer.

Keeping her eyes peeled, she restrung the bow, then pulled an arrow free of the quiver. It was heavier than the ones her father kept on hand, and the head wasn't the typical triangular shape she saw among the Guard. Still, an arrow was an arrow. This hall might be empty, but others may not be.

Maybe I should thank my parents when this is all over, she thought as she crept towards the opening at the end of the cell block.

They might have smothered her compared to her brother, but what they had taught her over the years proved more useful than not these days. At the very least, it aided the sheer luck and utter stupidity that kept her alive. Lisette might be onto something; maybe there was a god looking out for her after all. Perhaps Lady Luck hadn't abandoned her after all.

While the hall remained barren, the cells weren't as empty as she had hoped. Skeletal remains and half-rotted globs of flesh sat within the darkened corner of one. In another, she spotted a man curled into a ball, rocking back and forth, muttering under his breath. More unpleasant sights awaited her: a pair of Shroud agents lying in a pool of dried blood, their arms twisted at sickening angles; another agent with empty voids where their eyes once were; a skeleton that looked too misshapen to be human; and something so mutilated she couldn't tell what it was.

She leaned against the wall just before the corner and released a shaky breath. Her head ached, the incessant pounding that greeted her when she woke more prominent now. The torches weren't as bright as the ones in the tavern, but they were still too bright. She'd spent what little energy she had escaping the cell. Now, she hadn't the slightest clue where she was or where to go.

The damned hangover wasn't helping matters.

Hungover or not, she had to find a way out before someone realized she'd escaped. Just as she swallowed her reservations and moved to peer around the corner, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. With a silent curse, she readied the arrow.

While her skill with a sword left more to be desired, her skill with the bow was nowhere near as bad. It was one of the few things she'd taken to with ease, though she'd never been fond of it. It left her fingers sore and her shoulders aching. Gods help her if she forgot to wear a bracer; the string slapping against her forearm was the worst part.

Steeling her nerves and ignoring the stinging anticipation in her wrist, she peered around the corner.

A lone agent shuffled down the hall, which was significantly shorter than the cellblock. Rather than robes, they wore a set of blackened leather, a hood pulled over their head. A sword hung at their right hip.

Grim determination set in as she drew the bow. She had to do this — on her own and without hesitation. It was reasonable to assume her family and Shadowguard hadn't a clue where she was, and without a badge of her own, they had no way of locating her or reaching her. She had no way of contacting them. There wouldn't be anyone to swoop in and save her at the last second. One mistake and she was dead.

These people didn't care about rules or laws or morals. Shroud killed Mayor Ashburn and left her holding the proverbial bloody knife, only to do it a second time with Sir Swiftbrook. They destroyed an entire village to prevent her from getting her hands on vital information. Now, when they realized she wasn't so easily removed, they wanted her alive for the sake of convenience. Shroud would do whatever was necessary to get what they wanted.

She had to do what was necessary to survive. If it meant dirtying her hands further, then so be it. They painted her a threat, and she'd give them a reason to believe as much.

Releasing a breath, she pulled the string as far back as her strength allowed, which wasn't far at all, and released it. The arrow shot forward with the faintest whisper of wind. It struck lower than she intended, but a blow to the back of the neck was equally devastating as one to the back of the head. The agent crumpled to the ground, limp and unmoving.

"And here I thought you'd need help."

Stunned, Everna slowly lowered her bow. She recognized the voice — she'd heard it all throughout her childhood — but it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. Yet, when she turned, she found the impossible standing before her eyes.

"Mayor Ashburn?!"