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By mid-afternoon, Valek and Onyx headed toward Fulgor. The horse seemed to sense his impatience and pushed himself harder than normal. The five day journey turned into four. Valek made sure to find a clean stable and rubbed the black horse down himself.
“You've been hanging out with those Sandseed horses too long,” Valek said to him, patting his neck in gratitude. With Onyx fed, watered and settled, Valek hurried to his safe house. He didn't care if anyone recognized him on the streets of Fulgor, but he made sure no one saw him enter the small nondescript townhouse a few blocks from the Councilor's Hall.
The agent on duty shot to her feet when Valek appeared. She would have launched into an update about what had been happening in the city, but he silenced her with a sharp wave.
“I need to know if any of our Fulgor agents has reported seeing Leif Liana Zaltana in the last ten days,” he said.
The young woman pulled a log book from the desk. Flipping through the pages, she scanned the entries. Valek paced the narrow room. A few armchairs had been set up near the window to give the appearance of a home. However the rest of the dwelling was used as an office and safe haven for his corps. The Commander had ordered him to set up and maintain one of these safe houses in each major city in Sitia, including the Citadel. All to keep track of the neighbors to the south.
Yelena would be livid if she knew, but Valek couldn’t disobey a direct order from the Commander. Besides the houses came in handy.
“Sir, he was spotted entering the Weir Inn seven days ago, and two days ago an agent noted his horse is still at the inn’s stables. No one has seen him around town or at the Councilor’s Hall.”
Valek raced to the inn, beating the supper rush by a few minutes. The common room hummed with voices and servers weaved through the table. Valek sought out the inn’s owner and heard the same story. Here for one night and disappeared the next day. She figured Leif would return for his horse eventually.
“Did you notice if he talked to anyone?” Valek asked her.
“I’m too busy cleaning rooms in the morning, but you can ask our cook. He’s friends with Mr.
Leif,” she said.
The sizzling smell of grilled beef dominated the kitchen. Valek’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. The cook flipped beef steaks with an expert twist of his wrist.
“I stayed up all night with Leif,” the cook said between tasks. “We talked food—no surprise there, the man has an excellent palette—and then I whipped him up some sweet cakes for breakfast. When I left that morning, I saw him talking to four security guards.” He shrugged. “He told me he was in town to help the guards, I think they all left together.”
Valek thanked the cook. Returning to the common room, he sat at a table in the back corner and ordered a beef steak. It didn’t take a genius to guess that those guards weren’t legit. After Valek finished his meal, he walked toward Fulgor’s security headquarters. In order to maintain the ruse long enough to lead Leif somewhere relatively deserted, the fake guards would have to start out in the right direction.
In the graying twilight, Valek scanned the street, searching for places he would use for an ambush. He peered into dark alleys and circled abandoned buildings. One alley a couple blocks away from the Inn had signs of a struggle scuffed on the cobblestones near the alley’s entrance.
It could be from a street fight, but he needed to investigate before the light was gone. Half way down, he discovered drag marks leading to a warehouse door. Rust coated the hinges and knob, but not the lock.
Could it really be that easy? Not trusting the door, Valek climbed to the second floor and found an unlocked window. Ghosting inside the empty building, he didn’t encounter anything or anyone on the second floor. On the first floor, he found a machete in the corner of a big open room. Dried blood splattered the blade. Nearby, he spotted faint scratches on the brick wall, but it was too dark to read them.
“Need a light?” a woman’s voice asked.
As a fire blazed to life behind him, Valek spun and grabbed his daggers. Six black-clad figures fanned out in front of him, pointing their swords at his heart. Guess it isn’t going to be that easy.
Part 4
Valek was literally cornered. Six armed figures blocked his only escape route. He kept his expression neutral, but inside he chastised his own lack of judgment. “Only six?” he asked. “My, my.” He tsked, and spun the curved daggers in his hands. “Do you want to surrender to me now or later?”
The woman laughed—a deep almost sexy sound. She held the lantern aloft. Standing safely behind the semi-circle of fighters, she had pulled the hood of her long cloak up to conceal her face. “We’re well aware of your reputation. And I must say, I’m disappointed,” she said.
Magic brushed Valek’s skin. At least one of the ambushers was a magician. Even though he was immune to magic, he could feel it, and, if it was strong enough, it could slow him down.
The woman continued, “We expected you to show up at some point, but we never thought you would be this easy to catch.”
“Who says I’m caught?” he asked.
This time a chuckle rippled through the six fighters. Valek studied them. They wore tight-fitting black clothes that covered everything but their eyes. Sharp swords pointed at him with steady hands, and a few clutched short knives in their other hand.
His daggers wouldn’t reach as far as their weapons. Leif’s machete lay by his feet, but the thick blade would still not be long enough. He considered the darts treated with Curare tucked in his belt. They would even the odds a bit if he has time to use them.