After three days of siege, the wall fell. Not because of a lack of strength or faulty design, but because its garrison was too small to suffer even a limited number of casualties. After the war ended, Valour Keep was constructed to ensure that enough troops were present to reinforce the Galebreak Wall until reinforcements arrived.

  Excerpt from 'Twenty Years of Despair'

  Where the blaze is she? Hans thought, growing increasingly uneasy. Cecille had failed to appear from the trade-house. She should have been out ten longticks ago.

  He had hidden across the street in a porch, waiting for her and observing everyone who left the trade-house. None of them were the woman he expected. All the patrons were long gone and so were most, if not all, of the employees.

  Did she leave through the back?

  He had tried to contact her using the signal stone earlier, but received no response. Signalling Rocam proved equally fruitless, and Hans wasn't sure why. Either Rocam ignored him or he was out of range; the latter was a distinct possibility as the signal stones used by the Tasselhane outfit contained an older variant of the signal spell, one that had much less range than the ones Hans was used to.

  Darkness fully enveloped the street now save for some sun sigils near the doors of the various buildings. The ministry's channellers responsible for lighting the street-lamps had not shown up yet for some reason.

  This, combined with the clouded sky that hid the thin crescent of the waning Light Moon, made it dark enough for Hans to move around without having to worry about anyone seeing him.

  This would have been easier with a shade shroud, Hans thought. Unfortunately, Cecille had told him that they didn't have any. The few shade shrouds they used to have had all been lost at one time or another, and as none of the remaining members of the outfit could use the spell, no new ones had been obtained.

  To Hans, this was merely another reminder that this wasn't Rios, and he felt vulnerable as a result. Stuck in a foreign city where the only three people I know are of dubious assistance.

  There was movement near the exit, and Hans perked up. Yet it wasn't a well-dressed blonde woman who exited the trade-house. Instead it was a group of five men; Dusters, and all armed to the teeth. A nearby sigil's light reflected armour and blade.

  That's it then, Hans thought. Their presence made it clear that Cecille had either been caught or had left through the rear exit. Either way, there was nothing more that Hans could do here until he re-established contact.

  Hans reached for his signal stones to try to raise either Rocam or Cecille one last time.

  Much to Hans' surprise, Rocam responded this time. Where... you?

  Outside... trade-house, Hans responded as he saw another handful of Dusters exit the building.

  Why... stay?

  Cecille... absent.

  The stone lay still for a moment.

  Bail... now.

  Hans didn't like the feeling of that. Bail now? Is Cecille with him then? What happened in there?

  Where... Cecille? he signalled back.

  Bail... now, the stone repeated. Attack... began.

  Hans looked around the dark street. Attack? What attack?

  The night was as quiet as it had been for the past hour. The breeze that ran through the street didn't carry the clamour of a fight or anything similar. The only sounds were the ones made by the group of Dusters who seemed to have completed their numbers and marched off down the street.

  Regardless of what's happening, staying here is pointless, Hans thought. He sent an acknowledgement to Rocam and stepped out of the porch he was hiding in.

  To the meeting point then, and from there, back to the haunt.

  Hans made his way carefully through the dark streets. He halted at every turn and crossing, trying to recall the map of the city, and quickly realizing that memorizing a path on a map is easier than following it. Especially when it's dark.

  Why are all the street-lamps still out? The ministry channellers should have made their rounds hours ago. Especially in this neighbourhood.

  It made him worry, and he feared that he had lost his way when he spotted the landmark he was looking for. The statue of Oblik Prenn, owner and founder of the tavern that later grew into the city of Tasselhane. It was cast from a dull bronze and depicted a man with a thick head and a large beard that flowed from his chin like a waterfall. He was dressed in workman's clothes with one foot on a keg and a jug in his hands.

  In the dark, he ran his fingers over the inscription: “Here Oblik Prenn laid the first stone of the Long Valley Inn.”

  He was in the right place. The carriage that was supposed to be waiting here, however, was not there.

  No surprise there. He was used to plans not proceeding as they were supposed to, yet it annoyed him all the same.

  Now what do I do?

  Rocam had told him to bail, but that meant returning to the haunt he had been assigned. A haunt he had no idea how to reach from here. He only knew the way from Cecille's house, which meant he had to go there first.

  Hans passed his hand across his face. I should have expected this after seeing the state of their outfit.

  When he looked back at the statue, he noticed a dim sheen on the bronze that wasn't there a moment ago.

  What's that? Hans thought, taking a step closer. Is the bronze shining? No. It's reflecting light.

  He turned around to see what the source was and his eyes grew wide.

  The sky behind him was lit with an orange glow. Hans instantly knew what it was, having seen a similar sight in his childhood.

  A fire. A big fire.

  The nearby buildings obscured the source of the light, but Hans knew at least a block worth of houses would have to be burning for it to be this bright.

  Rocam said there was an attack. Did the syndicates start to fight and cause the fire?

  The thought made him even more anxious. He recalled the earlier conversation he had had with Cecille and Rocam, and how they told him the last shadow war had led to several ?ther blowouts. A runaway inferno is bad enough already.

  Hans started to walk at a quick pace that fell just short of a run. The wind was coming from down the mountains, which at least meant that the fire wouldn't be moving in his direction.

  Eventually he reached the main road that led east into the Long Valley. Unlike the rest of the city, the streetlights here were all properly lit. From his current position he could clearly see the Rink upon which Cecille's house was perched.

  Not much further now.

  The fire he had seen earlier was still going strong, and from his new vantage point Hans noticed it was a single large building that was burning. Fiery tongues, several vors tall, burst from the roof and every window, reaching high into the sky.

  The sight caused the air he inhaled to feel colder. Isn't that the city garrison?

  He stared dumbfounded at the distant inferno, and noticed that black spots were moving around in front of the high-reaching flames. What are those?

  The flickering and the distance made it hard to see, but Hans could tell there were several of them. They passed in front of the fire with a smooth gliding motion, sometimes halting in mid-air before continuing in another direction.

  The sound of a thunderclap met his ears and he looked up at the sky.

  A storm? That can't be right.

  The thundering did not stop, and only grew stronger. It was then that Hans realized what he was hearing, and he spun around to face up the main road.

  Horses. Many horses.

  In the short glance Hans gave them, he could not even tell how many of them there were. Their line covered the entire width of the road, and their number stretched out as far as the road was illuminated towards the Galebreak Wall. And they came straight at him.

  Hans dove back into the alley he had emerged from earlier, running as fast as he could. He had no idea who the horsemen were, but he knew better than to stand in front of them.

  Behind him he heard the front of the horse pack pass the alley. The thundering sound of countless hooves echoed off the walls.

  He'd gone halfway down the alley when another sound joined the first. The intermittent sound of a trotting horse, reverberating off the walls around him.

  A quick glimpse behind him confirmed that at least two horsemen had entered the alley.

  And they had seen him.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Frantically, Hans surveyed the alley in front of him while the two-beat trot turned into a three-beat canter. No doors. No places to hide. Won't reach the end in time. Only one thing I can do.

  He came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face the horsemen.

  Being a child from the city, he shouldn't know anything about how to deal with horses. The only ones he had ever seen were the ones strapped into harnesses drawing carts. Yet as his old pack-master Bajalim used to be a steppe rider, Hans, and all the other children of the rat pack, had had several lessons concerning horses drilled into their heads even though they were unlikely to ever need them.

  Facing a charging horse with your back will only get you trampled.

  “He's mine!” the left one shouted in Enti as he levelled his spear.

  “You won't get the first kill,” the other retorted.

  If there had been any doubt about their intentions, that doubt now vanished.

  Hans sank down slightly onto his haunches, and his view shrank to just the horses' legs and the bobbing spear tips.

  The right horseman, eager as he was, bumped his horse into the other, reducing the number of spears to dodge to one.

  The rider raised his arm, readying a thrust. The only thing Hans saw was the tip of the spear withdrawing, giving him the opening he needed.

  He dropped down onto all fours and tumbled forward as close to the horses' legs as he dared.

  The spear soared over him, the combined speed of his vault and the thrust too great for the rider to compensate.

  “You missed,” the left horseman grunted, reining in his horse.

  Hans wasn't waiting for them. He ran back towards a small gap between two houses he had noticed earlier. He wouldn't be able to dodge the second attack, nor was he planning to.

  The gap was shallow; little more than an alcove formed by two walls standing at a sharp angle. As a hiding place it was useless, as its depth was less than the length of the spears the horsemen carried. But his intention wasn't to hide.

  Long ago, at the start of his career as a street urchin, it had soon become obvious that Hans wasn't cut out for the more advanced thieving work. Being alert was something he could do well, but not while combining this with another action. As a result, he became the rat pack's lookout. He fit right into that role as it required only one additional skill to master: climbing.

  Hans pressed one hand against each wall and placed his feet parallel. The stone was rough and provided him the grip he needed.

  Good thing it didn't rain yesterday.

  Around the corner, Hans could hear the riders cursing, having some trouble wheeling their horses around in the narrow alley. He ignored them and ascended with a steady pace.

  The walls tore at the skin of his palms, but he didn't care. Climbing up high enough to be out of reach of a horseman's spear was all that mattered.

  Below him, the first rider appeared, stabbing wildly into the darkness of the alcove.

  “Did you get him?” the other one asked.

  “He's gone!” the first rider exclaimed, rooting around with his spear into nothing but air and brick walls.

  “What?”

  The second horseman rode up and peered into the darkness. “He used a shroud.”

  He moved his horse closer and joined the other one in stabbing the air and walls, causing a chorus of chipping sounds beneath Hans, who looked up to see how far he had to go.

  “What are you doing?” a third voice asked.

  “There was a scout here,” the first horseman answered. “But he used a shroud spell.”

  Hans saw another rider appear from around the corner. Unfortunately, this one was smarter than the other two. He produced a sun sigil and used it to light the gap.

  “There he is, you fools!” he shouted, pointing at Hans who was now halfway up.

  The third rider reached back and threw something that Hans could not see. An instant later, Hans heard the distinct clink of stone being chipped.

  Almost there, he thought as he watched the javelin that had barely missed him drop onto the ground beneath him.

  “Bow. Get the bow!”

  But it was too late for them. Hans reached the top of the building on his right and launched himself over the edge. The roof tiles protested loudly, some of them cracking beneath his weight.

  Below he could hear various words he did not understand, but considering the tone in which they were uttered, they were likely more curses.

  “Forget him,” one of them bellowed. “If he wants to be on the roofs, the Radiant Dune will deal with him.”

  The Radiant Dune? Hans thought as he stabilized his posture on the shallow roof.

  “We have better things to do,” another voice said. They all rode off, the thudding hooves disappearing in the direction of the city centre.

  Hans listened for a few more moments, then crept up towards the top of the roof. There he sat with his back against a chimney and looked at the main road coming down from the mountainside.

  That's...

  Back on the ground, Hans had estimated there to be a couple of hundred of them. A single eskadron that sneaked past the Galebreaker somehow. However, the sight in front of him now made it clear that he had been gravely mistaken.

  A stream of moving lights hurried down the mountainside from the now brightly illuminated Galebreak Wall that straddled the entrance into the Long Valley. The part where the main road went up the Rink was equally filled with lights, and Hans could see many more riders pouring into the lower city. Their combined presence caused a constant roll of distant thunder.

  Forget hundreds. More like several thousand. An entire mounted rank at least. This must be the attack Rocam signalled me about. And they're coming from the Long Valley. The Empire is invading.

  Dumbfounded by the realization, he stared at the seemingly endless stream of horses as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. Why would they do this? There isn't any strife between Gerios and the Empire that I know of.

  Yet the more he thought about it, the more things fell into place. It was clear now that Hischi Echeb was deeply involved with the Dust Empire, which confirmed the suspicion Hans had of their involvement. The sheer scope of it astonished him though.

  The only mystery that remained was what Echeb's men had been doing in Rios. Whatever it was, it was no doubt related to the invasion that was now unfolding in front of him.

  On the other side of the chimney, Valour Keep burned, and it was safe to assume the garrison was in chaos. Without the Keep they are exposed, and those horsemen will cut them down like leaves. They won't be able to put up much resistance.

  Hans gritted his teeth and shook his head. However terrible, the fate of Tasselhane wasn't for him to worry about right now. It's my own skin that needs saving first.

  He slowly passed his gaze along the Rink. One of the houses there belonged to Cecille, and somewhere near there was his haunt.

  The main road, the only road Hans knew that went up to the Rink, was currently filled with enemy soldiers, effectively closing off the only route he could use to get back.

  Now what do I do? Hans thought, feeling apprehensive. I can't stay on this roof until daylight. For all I know, those soldiers will come back to see if I'm still here. And if not them, then whatever the Radiant Dune is.

  There was the possibility of trying to hide nearby. Knock on a few doors and see if someone would take him in. But the odds for that were slim. By now, most of the city would know something was terribly wrong, and anyone sane would keep their door firmly locked. Especially against someone who didn't sound like he was from around here.

  The thought of doing so didn't appeal to him anyway. He had had some bad experiences with hospitality from strangers.

  Another option was to leave Tasselhane entirely, but he quickly discarded that notion. He had no idea how to survive outside a city.

  There has to be some other way up there, Hans thought, eyeing the Rink once more. Some street at the outskirts of the city. A stairway hewn out of the cliff. The problem is finding it.

  He made his decision.

  I'll look for a way up. If I'm not at the haunt, I will lose all contact with the few allies I have.

  Even so, he still had to wait until the attack wound down. With this many riders moving around, merely being in the streets was suicide.

  So he waited.

  Hans didn't know how long he had been waiting when his backside started to protest against sitting on the unforgiving roof tiles. The stream of lights coming down from the Galebreaker had stopped a while ago, and even the main road appeared calm now, with only the occasional group of lights moving over it. There was still a clamour coming from the city centre to the south; it appeared the majority of the invasion force had gathered there.

  Hans had just tried, fruitlessly, to signal Rocam when he heard a distant voice. Surprised, he turned his head. The voice wasn't coming from below, it was coming from above.

  “...not willing to take more chances,” the voice spoke in Enti, coming closer.

  “We'll need to regroup regardless,” another voice answered.

  Hans pressed himself against the chimney, looking around in utter confusion. Where are those voices coming from?

  “True, but wouldn't it have been easier to walk?” the first voice said.

  “And risk getting cut down? Those filth-mongers strike at everything that moves. I wouldn't be surprised if half their casualties are from their own men. Why do you think we let them take the vanguard?”

  Both voices were very close now, and an instant later the owners appeared in Hans' view. Two men, dark shapes against the sky, floated past him in the direction of the Galebreaker.

  They're flying?! he thought. Luckily, there was little chance they would spot him in his position against the chimney.

  “I'm not sure they can stop themselves pillaging,” the first voice said.

  “They were told not to, but no doubt some of them will. It doesn't matter. The main host will be here in the morning. After that, we can secure the city and then the rest.”

  The main host? All these men were just the vanguard? Hans mind spun. He had come here expecting to have to deal with a syndicate and corrupt officials at most. Having an entire army to deal with far exceeded that expectation. And not in a good way.

  He followed the Dusters with his eyes until he could no longer see or hear them, then started to climb down from the roof. If the pillaging had started, it meant that the fight was over. If he wanted to reach his haunt before sunrise, he had to move now.

  Carefully, he made his descent back down the gap between the walls. His muscles protested under the strain, yet he reached the bottom without incident. From there he started to move towards the Rink.

  On his way, Hans encountered only a handful of people. Most of them dove away if they spotted him, and a few others were busy looting the corpses that the initial sweep had left behind.

  Maybe I should ask someone for directions?

  He decided against it. Everyone he met was so skittish that he was liable to receive a knife in the stomach rather than an answer.

  Eventually, he reached a spot where the Rink was no longer a straight cliff, but a slope that consisted of rocks and small boulders with shrubs in between.

  The clouds in the sky had cleared up somewhat. This might be doable.

  He tore off a piece of his undershirt to bandage his hands, which were chafed from his rapid climb earlier.

  Here goes.

  The climb up the slope was easier than he expected. The ground beneath his feet was firm and the elevation wasn't as bad as he had thought. It didn't take long before he was halfway up.

  “Hey,” a nearby male voice suddenly hissed. “Is that you, Dyll?”

  Hans instantly pressed himself against the slope as he looked around to find the source of the voice.

  “It's not you, Dyll?” the voice asked. “Who are you then?”

  He's speaking Rion, Hans thought. So he's a local.

  “I'm not Dyll,” Hans said. “I'm just looking for a way up the Rink.”

  There was movement on his left-hand side and a dark human figure appeared from behind a boulder. “Did you see Dyll?”

  “No. I'm just trying not to run into any Dusters.”

  “You and me both,” the man replied. “Dyll wanted to meet with his girl to see if she was alright, but he hasn't returned yet.”

  I don't care. “Do you happen to know where Arkia Street is from up there?”

  “Arkia Street? That's right there,” the man said, pointing. “First street on the left once you reach the top.”

  “Many thanks,” Hans said, continuing his climb.

  “Do you live there?” the man asked.

  Hans did not answer him. The darkness shielded him from being spotted, but the sound of voices carried a long way. If any of those flying soldiers heard us, they might come to check it out.

  After reaching the top without incident, Hans crept through a backyard and past the adjacent house before reaching the street. Like the ones he had crossed earlier, it was devoid of human presence.

  First street on the left, he said.

  A scream came from somewhere behind him and Hans spun around. A small distance away from the edge of the Rink, Hans could see a sun sigil floating in mid-air. The screaming continued, and Hans recognized the voice of the man he had just met. The light then descended out of Hans' sight, and a few moments later the screaming abruptly stopped.

  So much for that guy. Looks like they're still patrolling with vigilance.

  Hans ran across the street, hoping fiercely they had not noticed him as well, and entered the street where his haunt should be. Initially he didn't recognize his surroundings, but after walking a small distance he spotted the familiar sight of the slightly bent lamppost that stood in front of his haunt.

  With a heavy sigh of relief he unlocked the door, slipped inside and sank onto the ground with his back against the closed door.

  I made it, but what a mess, Hans thought. He didn't feel safe quite yet. The man's screaming still vividly rang in his ears.

  He sat for a while in the dark silence until his fatigue started to overwhelm him, dampening his worries. He had been awake and active for the better part of the night, and he was hurting all over. Trying to stay awake in the event the Dusters busted his door down was a fool's errand.

  They didn't see me, Hans thought, rubbing his heavy eyelids. They would have been here by now if they had. I should sleep. In a bed.

  With a pained grumble, he rose and fetched himself something to drink before stumbling into his bed, where he fell into a dreamless sleep.