The Webbing Blade

ON THE RUN IN ILSNARE

AS LOU TURNED the corner into a side alley, and got out of sight of the guards, he felt the wind hit his cheeks, blast away the moisture there. His heart jigged up in his throat and he felt almost smothered by the scents of spices and herbs thick in the air. He sank his teeth into his tongue and willed himself forwards, to go faster, to go harder. But it was almost impossible. He could only shuffle forwards in his chains.

Lou could hear the slap of Sully and Rut’s footsteps behind him, as they pushed to keep up. A bit further off, he could hear shouting, back in the street. The guards surely had noticed that they’d gone. And Lou knew they’d have no chance of beating them on foot, they’d have to find somewhere to hide out, or else they’d be caught and punished.

He eyed an open door up ahead of them, and he glanced round briefly to check Sully and Rut were still there, following him. Then he lurched in through the doorway, almost stumbling over his feet as he crossed the threshold.

Inside the house, the air was cool. He could smell the scent of bread baking. He could almost taste the rich smell warm his tongue. He heard the others still out in the alley, their chains clinking away as they came. Then he heard a guard bark something out.

For them to stop. This was the end. They’d be caught now. And tortured. Or killed.

And it would be all Lou’s fault. He had initiated their escape, got them into whole new worlds of trouble.

And then there was a large, hefty slap as the door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Lou glanced round, hardly able to believe it.

The door must’ve caught on the wind.

He glared back at it, a good dozen or so steps away. He shuffled his way back across the floor of the house, feeling his chains tighten around his ankles, and hearing them scrape against the brickwork beneath his feet.

As he drew closer to the door, he saw that not only had the door slammed shut, but the bolt had slipped across it. It was a bulky iron bolt, at least as thick as his arm. But it had apparently slipped across with the force of the shutting door.

He drew closer to the door and then lurched forwards, seizing hold of the bolt with his chained wrists.

It wouldn’t budge. Not even a little.

And as he stood there, trying to shift the bolt from its place, he heard one of either Sully or Rut outside, the tinkling of their chains against the cobblestones, draw up to the door and then begin to pound their fists against it.

The pounding got so loud, so hard, that Lou could see splits appearing in the wood. He watched a crack form as the base of the door, but it remained narrow and refused to expand any more.

Moments later and Lou heard the steady bootfall of the guards, their gruff voices . . . and then, to Lou’s disgust, the snap and snick of whips on human flesh.

The banging on the door ceased. And out in the alley someone, Sully or Rut, groaned out in pain. Then he heard the tinkle of chains again as the guards grabbed them and set them back on their feet.

Lou ground his teeth and tried to yank the bolt back.

Still, nothing.

Realising he wasn’t going to be able to move the bolt at all, he shoved his shoulder hard up against the door, and butted it several times over. The door only rocked a tiny bit on its hinges, but otherwise held firm.