Night's Cold Embrace

Chapter 13

Dawn had already breathed faint wisps of colour into the bleak sky by the time Garrett emerged from the chapel. The sun now peaked over the horizon, casting its glimmering rays in between the sparse breaks in the clouds. The smoke had finally lifted, leaving the stale air a modicum more breathable.

Garrett took a deep breath before continuing onwards, ignoring the pools of blood caked on the ground. He came to an abrupt stop, glancing once more at the ground, the grass, and the blood - the sources of which were absent. Immediately, he broke into a crouched position and glided to cover behind a nearby bench. Cautiously peeking to the right, he caught a glimpse of a mangled body shuffling past the graveyard and around the corner.

Well, my search just became a lot easier, he thought to himself before pushing away from the bench and stalking the figure.

----------------------

They had followed routes previously unknown to Garrett, which he kept a mental note of along the way, and passed several scenes which Garrett could only describe as sermons. Masses of crowds stood in silence around the Graven men preaching of the supposed evils of the world on makeshift daises.

One such route overlooked the town square, where Garrett had witnessed the lining up of shaking people - no doubt the aristocratic - stripped naked before the gallows that only the past day executed common criminals. The jeering mass of thrusting fists had cheered as a noose was cast over each head and the bar pulled, plunging the bodies below the level of the flooring. They were still struggling desperately for footing when Garrett had looked away.

After having traveled halfway across the City, the corpses finally reached their destination. A safe few paces away, Garrett looked over the derelict warehouse they entered. He recognized the building. Once a profitable hatchery, the building now stood abandoned after an accidental fire had burned it down beyond repair sometime in the year Garrett had missed.

He briefly scanned what was left of the building. Pieces of burnt wood jutted out from one side of the hatchery. His eyes traced a path from the first protrusion to the open framework of the roof. Garrett strode to the wall. As he approached, he heard a familiar grating voice booming out. Safely in the shadows, he flattened himself against the wall just as a figure emerged to draw the creaky wooden doors closed. A fine dust of charcoal drifted down.

Turning his attention back to the wall, Garrett tentatively placed a foot on one of the wooden ridges and tested its strength. Satisfied that it would hold, he shifted his weight and immediately leaped off of his foot to the next ridge.

By the time his foot touched the last plank, he knew that it would give way. Surely enough, the scorched wood cracked with the slightest pressure. He instinctively grasped onto the splintered end of the plank, stifling a cry of pain as the sharp edges pierced the skin of his palm. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath before gripping the edge harder to pull himself up. When his knee was safely supported, he wrenched his hand free and plucked out the larger remaining splinters.

Cradling his injured hand, Garrett made his way to a steadier-looking beam overlooking the interior of the hatchery. No more than twenty feet below, a group of thuggish men wielding weapons varying from daggers and swords to crossbows - all stolen from the City Watch - stood guard. The bloodied corpses from the graveyard stood facing away from him in front of the doors. In the middle of the warehouse, between the charred shallow barrels lining the floor, stood Gil. He held against him the Queen of Beggars, who stood composedly in his grasp.

One of the burlier men approached them. "No'ne 'ere, boss. You sure 'e'll come?"

"Oh, of that I am certain." His voice was noticeably raspy and strained. "Not even he would leave an old, defenseless woman to be killed."