Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology by Martin Hengst Page B

roaming the streets. They could make their escape largely unnoticed. If they could get to the Lower City, into the brothel and tavern district, they'd be able to disappear into the crowds of people packed into the streets at all hours of the night.
    "You can kill me once we're safe," Faxon shot back, glancing over his shoulder. The Baron's men had nearly caught up with them. They were almost to the stairs. Just a little further now. They rounded a low building and skidded to a stop before two pairs of militia guards blocking the passage to the Lower City.
    "Halt! In the name of the Upper Baronies and the militia of Overwatch, you are commanded to stand down."
    "Better and better," Faxon muttered.
    "C'mon lads, ye don't want any part of this. Just step aside."
    The shortest of the militiamen, a stocky young man with sergeant’s blazes on his epaulets, shook his head.
    "Can't do that, Sir."
    Renewed shouting from a street or two over told them that they were almost caught.
    "Faxon," Gunther grunted. "Little help here, lad."
    "If I had a crown for all the times..." Faxon planted his feet and called upon the power of the Quintessential Sphere.
    He summoned memories of death and disease, of all the horrid, slimy things that man fears in the dark of night. He channeled these living memories into his eyes and they blazed with power. He turned his face to the militiamen.
    "Gaze upon me mortals, and see my true aspect." Faxon's voice thrummed with power. The men looked at Faxon and dropped their weapons. They ran, blind with panic, crashing into each other in their haste to flee what they had seen. The Sergeant’s face went pale, the lantern light exposing the dark stain running down the leg of his tan breeches.
    Faxon and Gunther pelted down the long stairs two at a time. Stepping into the Lower City was like jumping into a turgid sea of bodies. Humans, Xarundi, a Gnome here and there. Overwatch was known to welcome all comers, so long as those who stepped foot inside the city walls had the wherewithal to survive. The only immutable law in Overwatch was that the laws were flexible. They heard Ohlagly's angry snarl from a distance, but by that time, they were already working their way through the crowd. The two of them had it much easier than the Baron's men would. Patrons of the Lower City didn't much care for the Barons or their men. It wasn't long before they lost their pursuers altogether.
    "That was a neat trick," Gunther said as they made their way toward his warehouse. "What'd ye show 'em?"
    "Living nightmare." Faxon chuckled. "Whatever they fear most, personified. I'm a bad man."
    "Aye. Still got what we went for?"
    Faxon opened the throat of his robe and briefly showed a packet of parchment he'd tucked there for safekeeping.
    "Safe and sound. I'll be on a ship back to Dragonfell in the morning. Then all this business will be done with."
    "A ship?" Gunther raised his bushy eyebrows. "Why not take the gate back?"
    "Greymalkin wants a survey of the coast. Merchant ships have been going missing."
    "Pirates?"
    "So the King thinks."
    "Send Greymalkin my regards."
    Faxon laughed. "I'll be sure to do that. However, I think he still has a prison cell set aside for you if you ever set foot in Dragonfell again."
    "I didn't know she was his daughter, Faxon."
    "I don't think that matters, old friend."
    They'd arrived at Gunther's Warehouse, a massive two-story wood frame building that squatted in the center of the Trade District in the Lower City. Huge wooden doors, now closed for the night, were wide enough to allow two carts to drive in abreast. Large windows, the largest Faxon had ever seen, were set into the upper story and the roof to allow for daylight to penetrate the cavernous building during business hours. The light would illuminate the vast quantity of treasures within. If it could be bought or sold, odds were that Gunther kept it in stock. If he didn't, he knew someone who could provide it, procure it, or build it. They