Legacy of the Unborn Dragon - Draft Preview

Chapter 2 - Cut Both Ways

Half an hour earlier

Walloz stepped out of the backdoor of the tavern with purpose and, grunting as the autumn night air made itself felt. With a couple of concerted blinks, the blackness before her transformed into a world of blues and greens.

She jogged through the maze of alleyways, occasionally glancing at the piles of garbage and those rummaging through it. Every few minutes, she'd slow, her weary body reminding her of days of poor sleep and her grumbling stomach of her hunger. Her body hadn't had a chance to heal properly in weeks, if not months.

Stopping at a four-way intersection of alleys, she glanced up at the towering six-story buildings surrounding her. She pulled on the thick shoulder armor of her brigandine, her snarl revealing how she detested the one-piece leather armor vest and skirt. Still, it was the best thing they'd been able to afford since arriving in the city with nothing.

Where is it? She wondered, studying her surroundings. Walloz had carefully walked her route when Bagelis had been unconscious in their flea-ridden flophouse room. Finding the smashed third-floor window of a derelict building, she re-oriented herself and was off.

Several minutes later, she was greeted with the sound of enchanting music and bright lights at the far end of an alleyway. Her battered spirits lifted at the thought that she and Bagelis would be on the verge of climbing out of the abyss they'd accidentally thrust themselves in months ago.

Staying in the shadows, she advanced toward the alley's mouth, which gave way to a busy boulevard. Across the street was a lively two-story club with wealthy-to-do patrons lined up and extravagant carriages stopping to drop off and pick up.

Walloz pushed her matted, dark-grey hair out of her face as she remembered the days when she'd be able to walk to the front of such a line and be invited in. However, she'd never taken advantage of it. A part of her wondered if it had been arrogance rather than humility that had stopped her.

Bringing herself back on task, she found a garbage can and removed its cover. Removing a folded piece of paper, she opened it and read the two words aloud. The note immediately dissolved, and she replaced the lid.

"I hate waiting," she said as she ran her hands down the sides of her leather armor skirt.

"You did show up? For a minute, I thought perhaps someone had found the summons by accident and was about to have a terrible surprise. But here you are." The voice was gravelly. Its owner was a wall of a man. He was dressed in a stylish pin-striped suit, with a fur scarf and hat, and the lamplight danced off the two polished tusks protruding from his lower jaw.

"I have to say I've never seen another orc dress like you, Jazco," said Walloz.

"Yeah, yeah. Back up from the boulevard. We don't want to distract these nice piles of walking money and influence. They don't need to know what really makes the world go around."

He shoed Walloz back several yards.

"Hey, Moncus, are you coming?" Jazco bellowed over his shoulder once satisfied with where they were.

Walloz glanced about, they were between two three-floor buildings with no windows or doors, and the alleyway was narrowed to about only a few yards across. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

A smaller figure entered. "Just finished talking to the Duchess of something, I don't know. She's going to change the plans she had for her group and bring them to our club instead. Cost us a little, but we'll make it back easy."

The mouthy Moncus was about three feet tall, wearing a charcoal suit, fur scarf, and glasses that sparkled. Coming up beside his colleague, he crossed his hands in front of himself, the top having an oversized, wooden ring showing. "So, what are we dealing with, Jazco?"