Playing the Game

Chapter 33: Negotiations with a Stranger

The hooded man waited for me to lock eyes with him again, giving me all the time I needed to process the severed head at my feet. When I finally looked his way, sword still outstretched in defense, he removed his hood and pulled down the fabric from his face.

His chestnut brown hair was long enough to reach his chin, pin straight and matted into dirty clumps clinging to the sides of his cheeks. His skin was sunbaked and dirty, and his clothes were equally so. He had slight stubble that ranged from brown to grey. His eyes were small, like he was permanently squinting, but a smoky shade of blue could still shine through. Despite the dirt, grey stubble, deep voice and scowl that would suggest him to be in his forties or fifties, his physique told a different story. When he pushed back the sides of his cloak, he revealed muscular arms that seemed to attach to an equally fit chest and torso hiding under his ragged, sleeveless shirt. The man had the build of someone in their thirties, much like my father before he died.

"Who are you?" I muttered.

He began walking about the room to retrieve his arrows from the bodies of his victims. "I'm the person who is going to keep you safe in this retched place."

"Who are you?" I repeated slowly to make sure he understood what I was asking.

He yanked an arrow out of a guard's head before giving me a long look, and then he grumbled, "Arlo." He didn't elaborate.

"And?" I was growing impatient.

He opened his mouth to say more but stopped abruptly, looking at the main doors. He heard something I didn't.

He swiftly moved towards the table placed beside the double doors, and then began sliding it across the floor. He pulled it in front of the closed doors to act as a barricade. Just as he was letting go, there was a loud bang from the opposite side as someone tried to push the doors open. It sounded like a handful of guards had finally come to our rescue, shouting my name to see if I was still alive. The door shifted slightly, but the combined efforts of the table and candlestick kept it closed. Arlo took a step back to access his work. Satisfied that it would hold, he continued to roam about the room to collect his arrows.

"Lady Candra! Are you alright?!"

"Let us in!"

"Open this door!"

"Can you hear me, Lady Candra?!"

I ignored their cries and turned to Arlo. "Why did you do that?! If you're here to keep me safe, then why would you trap us in here?! You're just making it harder for me to believe that you're not here to kill me yourself."

He ignored my questions. I looked to Melina and Torrann for answers. They were standing behind me for cover, shifting only when Arlo got too close. They were just as confused as I was, shrugging their shoulders as they continued to watch the man carefully.

"If you're not going to let them in, I will." I took a couple of steps towards the door, but Arlo moved swiftly to cut me off. I jumped back and leveled my sword once more. He didn't pull a weapon on me, nor did he take a defensive stance. He simply held his hand up, asking me to wait.

"How do you know that those guards out there aren't just here to make sure that the job is done?"

As much as I hated to admit it, the man had a point.

He nodded his head towards the door, "Tell them you're alive."

I dropped the sword to my side, but I wasn't ready to let it go just yet. I carefully sidestepped the man so I could get closer to the door, and then I hollered over the banging and screaming guards, "I'm all right! A few cuts and bruises, but nothing I can't handle."