Jay Olsen-Thrift

Auora

Day 13, Month 11, Year 13,239

Running the streets was like a game. Rule number one was to never get caught. There were two players in this game—“eyes” and “hands”. For the “hands” that did the work, it was difficult to stay hidden without looking too suspicious. Fights happened on the regular, either to acquire goods or defend territory from rival gangs. Hands that got dirty tended to stay dirty, and that was a crime on this little island of a city. It was easier for the “eyes” to get lost in a crowd. They were supposed to simply watch for any change in behavior, any disruption in the pattern. As long as the eyes weren’t caught staring for too long, it was much easier to stay hidden than the hands. These were the lessons instilled upon Ray by the lieutenants.

That evening, Ray was searching the marketplace for any sort of shift in the day-to-day occurrences of the merchants. Whispers were stirring in the streets that there was a new seller of athra, whose strain was more effective than what was currently circulating through the city. Of course, with stronger effects came a more lethal outcome. If those whispers got louder, the city guards might pick up on it, and then there would be more trouble on everyone’s. It was Ray’s job to find the whisperers and then relay their messages back to Naro, so he could handle it before anything escalated.

Naro was the leader of her gang, the Syrael Walkers. He looked out for the people of the streets, protecting them from any harm, be it the city guards or a deadly strain of athra. The crown hunted for Naro’s head, accusing him of being a gang lord, murdering several members of the city guard, and trafficking drugs throughout the city. No one could track him down, however. By the time the guardsmen caught word of his whereabouts and raided the place, there was no trace of Naro to be found. He could make anyone disappear, including himself, never to be found again.

Ray wandered around the marketplace, observing the various stalls and watching the merchants interact with the passing crowds. The two suns crawled lower into the sky, casting long golden rays of light onto the streets. Some vendors began packing up their belongings and close their stalls for the evening, while others continued to push their products on passers-by, desperate to make those last few coins for the night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary tonight. At least, not out on the streets.

She decided to walk over to the Silken Mask, a nearby brothel. She intended on meeting Laurel, one of the girls there, and find out if she knew anything about the new strand of athra. Laurel was the one who tipped Naro off about the athra in the first place, so it was possible she had gathered some new information in the past couple of days. She had taken a personal interest in this latest find with the athra, because one of the other girls in the brothel had fallen victim to the drug barely a fortnight ago. It had been easy enough for her to lie to her boss and dispose of the bodies, but it left her wounded and grieving for one of her own. Laurel was very persuasive with her talents, and she kept secrets better than anyone else in Auora. Better than most, anyway. Only a handful of people knew that she was connected to Naro, and those people were sworn to secrecy under threat of a punishment far worse than death.

Ray passed by the entrance to the brothel and instead turned down an alley that was connected to the many backways and exits from several other buildings nearby. It was a way for the men and women who visited the brothel to escape into the night without being caught by peeping neighbors or jealous troublemakers.

Laurel’s room was on the second story of the brothel with a window facing the alley. It was relatively easy to climb up the wall now that the two suns were down. Ray’s dark cloak concealed her against the stone wall to any wanderers below. The soles of her leather boots gripped the various holes and bumps in the stonework, allowing for her to climb up with relative ease. She pulled her body up high enough for her knuckles to rap against the glass window, the dark red curtains obstructing her view into the room. She quickly lowered herself back down, her gloved fingers gripping onto the windowsill. She quieted her breathing and waited for a response.

Her arms began to tremble after a few moments. She heard the sounds of the streets in the distance, which made it hard to determine what was happening in Laurel’s room.

Probably too busy with a client, Ray thought.

She inhaled sharply and climbed back down into the alley. Naro and Laurel had an agreement that one of the Walkers could visit her once per week, and Ray had already visited three days ago. Perhaps it was for the best that Laurel hadn’t come to the window. She shook her arms and left the alley. It was time for her to return to one of the Walkers’ safehouses down in the Docks District.

Auora was a city on an island as old as time itself, and it was precariously built around the stone hill in the center. The castle where the royal family lived was on a smaller island adjacent to the city-island with a bridge connecting the two. The city was arranged in tiers, starting from the Docks District on the very bottom and rising all the way up to what the citizens called the Sky District where the wealthy and elite made their homes and went about their lives choosing to know nothing about what was below. Many buildings were carved into the stone itself. Others were stacked on top of each other to make the best use of space.

Her destination was a warehouse, one of the oldest buildings on the western edge of the island, that looked out to the Telatorr Mountains and Castle Auora. The Walkers had owned the building for close to nine years at this point—one of their oldest hideouts in the city. Their hideouts were always moving, always changing, to avoid detection. There was also no telling which Walker would be staying at a given hideout much to Ray’s disappointment. Sometimes she chose to wander the streets and try to find a quiet alcove or empty cellar where she could sleep for a few hours, just to get some peace away from her fellow Walkers. With that came the risk of running across other gang members. The Walkers weren’t the only gang in the Auora, nor did they come close to being the most bloodthirsty. The Walkers had a certain reputation among the other gangs, and Naro had reinforced that reputation over the years. He had made many enemies, and they would almost certainly jump at any opportunity to strike a blow against him.

The descent from the Market District to the Docks District was swift and uneventful. The city guards never harassed anyone going down the Golden Path, only those going up. They had to protect their rich benefactors in the upper districts. Those down below didn’t warrant the same amount of protection. In the lower districts, the gangs served as the muscle for the people.

Outside the main door of the warehouse sat a bored-looking boy of about sixteen. She couldn’t recall his name, but she recognized him from training. In one hand he held a dagger and a half-carved piece of wood in the other. As she approached the warehouse, he straightened and got to his feet, setting the carving down on the chair behind him. He held the knife close to his hip. She knew that he was not the only guard on duty that night. Others were undoubtedly stationed on the rooftops surrounding them. Perhaps one or two even had arrows notched and aimed at her.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

She took her hood off and raised her hand in greeting. “It’s Ray, I just want to get some sleep,” she replied.

The boy visibly relaxed once he recognized her face. “Should be an extra bed or two tonight. Place is a little crowded.” He opened the door behind him, stepping aside to let her in.

As she passed him, she tilted her head to the side to catch a glimpse at his carving. “What’re you working on?”

He shrugged. “Just a boat. Travelers like them.”

She let out a grunt of agreement and headed inside. Travelers did indeed like to purchase little trinkets from the markets in Auora. Some of the Walkers made honest coin on the side, if they found time to craft little oddities like that boy and his wooden boats.

She passed through a small entryway and headed up a flight of stairs to the second floor. The main area of the warehouse was dedicated to storing goods that moved through the city. Upstairs was the living quarters. The boy out front was right, there were several other Walkers there that evening. Most of them were boys gathered around a large table. Their guffaws and cackling could be heard from the lower level.

“Did she really say that to him?”

“Honest!”

More cackling.

Ray grimaced and stepped onto the landing. The boys ranged in age from no older than children to several years her elders. The younger ones were moving tankards of ale between the table and some nearby kegs, intent on keeping their elders’ thirst sated. Ray had done this plenty of times growing up. It was an effective way to get stories from others, which is exactly what these boys were doing.

“And he still convinced her to go into the barn with him!” one of the older boys—really more of a young man—hollered before he raised a tankard to his lips and took a lengthy swig. The others whooped and hollered in response.

“Can’t believe Ajak would do that!” a younger boy shrieked with laughter.

Ray felt her stomach tie itself into a knot. Of course they were talking about Ajak. He had made quite a name for himself throughout the Walkers. He had recently turned twenty-three and was five years older than her. They shared similar backstories—born in the slums, parents died, and the Walkers picked him up. They differed in that Ajak was a natural rogue. Whatever task Naro and the other lieutenants gave him, he completed with ease. Many of the younger Walkers, Ray included, wanted to be like Ajak. It felt more obtainable than being like Naro. Ajak was also very popular with women both within the Walkers and in the city. And that’s exactly what these boys were discussing that evening.

Maybe I’d be better off sleeping on the streets tonight, she thought.

She didn’t want to listen to stories of Ajak’s conquests. The thought made her heart hurt. It wasn’t that she was trying to get his attention—far from it. She had been on the receiving end of his attentions for the past couple of years, as had several other young women in the Walkers. But she despised the idea of being another conquest. She had never tried convincing him to change his ways because what was so special about her? He had seduced women from the Sky District. If they couldn’t keep his attention, there was no way she would be able to. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter.

She corrected her course and instead walked over to where they stored their food. Someone had brought back a few loaves of bread earlier in the day, which had already been torn into. Ray grabbed a couple of slices. Bread and preserved goods were the best she could expect from this warehouse. There was no oven, and they couldn’t risk a firepit anywhere near the building. It wasn’t like some of the other safehouses that had decent kitchens in them. She took a bite of the bread and then headed back toward the stairs, trying her best to ignore the boys’ comments. She heard her name mentioned once or twice but couldn’t be bothered to listen and respond.

“Not staying the night?” the boy out front asked her as she exited the warehouse.

“Naw, it’s too loud in there,” she mumbled, taking another bite of bread. Pungent cheese and garlic flavor filled her mouth, and she savored the bite.

The boy shrugged before returning to his carving.

As she wandered the streets, her thoughts eventually turned to Laurel and her dead friend. Their brothel was in the more extravagant part of the Market District, which was several levels above where the drug trade usually commenced. Ray couldn’t help but wonder how that athra had made its way so high up in Auora without either her gang or the guards hearing about it. Typically, any drug that made it so high up was less dangerous and sold exclusively to the wealthy by means of the Red Court gang. The Red Court was almost as old as the Walkers, and they had lasted that long because they were made up of nobles and rich folk who very much enjoyed their illicit activities. And the city guards would turn their heads because, after all, they couldn’t be going around arresting the people who paid for their services. It was a nice little arrangement most of the time.

Except for now. This strain of athra was deadly, and that crossed a line with both the wealthy and the guards. It would be the gangs who paid the price for its presence, so it was imperative that Ray learn more information about where it was coming from.

She sighed, letting the pressure of her responsibilities push the air from her lungs. Although she had been with the Walkers for the past five years, she had never faced a situation quite like this. Naro had impressed upon her and the others that this athra strain could be the end of the Walkers if they did not snuff it out in time. She wanted nothing more than to solve this problem for her gang and for Naro.

She wanted to laugh but settled for a smile and quiet snort. It seemed that her thoughts often turned to Naro late at night. The man had become like a father to her after her own father abandoned her and her mother. She owed everything she had, everything she had become, to Naro. He had trained her in the art of stealth, thievery, and trickery. He had also wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug when she awoke from her nightmares. He would sing softly to her and lull her back to sleep just like her mother used to do. At that moment she craved nothing more than a reassuring squeeze from him. She decided to take her chances and climb up to the Crafting District where one of the nicer safehouses was located. Naro had made that safehouse his primary residence, but he traveled often. Perhaps she would get lucky, and he would be there that night.

The streets were quiet. At this hour, the only other people out were the guards and stragglers heading home from the taverns. Most weren’t going to be climbing through the districts of the city. Fortunately, she didn’t have to be on the streets for very long. Up ahead was an alley she would disappear down where there were ladders and scaffolding that led directly up into the Crafting District, past the layer of barracks and housing where the soldiers slept and kept watch on the two districts below. If it were any other time of day, Ray would have backtracked to the Docks District and then climbed the Golden Path with the crowds. There was little movement on the Golden Path after dark, however, and the guards were almost certain to stop anyone trying to climb higher into the city at night. Ray needed to stay hidden, so the alleys and ladders in the Gutters would suffice.

The guards of the city never ventured too far into the Gutters, although they knew there were secret routes into the Crafting District hidden within. The main paths were patrolled often enough, but the alleys were sufficiently hidden beneath the cliffside. The Gutters was truly a feat of crafting mastery. Shanties and shacks were stacked on top of each other with interconnected bridges and walkways. There were several homes carved into the cliffside. There was one particular structure that Ray moved toward—a small storehouse that had long since been abandoned.

Over the course of time, a couple of gangs had fought to control the storehouse because of the tunnel in the back that led directly to the Market District. No one knew who had originally carved the vertical pathway, but Ray was sure Naro knew. Despite that, the Walkers had never contested for ownership of the storehouse. If there was one place the guards were willing to go to in the Gutters, it was this storehouse. They had tried sealing the tunnels in the past, but someone always managed to break through. They couldn’t risk destroying it lest they bring down parts of the city above. Most of the time they just left well enough alone, but Naro was wary. He didn’t want to risk his people getting caught and arrested, so he stayed out of the ownership feuds.

That didn’t mean that the Walkers never used the tunnel. Ray always tried to avoid using it unless she knew who was in possession of the storehouse. She was fairly certain that it was currently unoccupied. The last news she had heard was that the Iron Hawks and The Disciples had fought over it and faced more casualties than either side cared to lose. That meant the place was truly abandoned while they licked their wounds. The smaller gangs wouldn’t dare risk occupying the space one of the main four had their eyes on.

The storehouse was at the back of a particularly dark alley. It was in one of the older districts of the Gutters where most of the buildings were carved directly into the island rock. The main sound she heard was her footsteps. Sometimes a dog barked, or a couple yelled loud enough to be heard through the stone walls. Ray paid none of these noises any attention. She was on the lookout for any signs of patrols. It was common for one of the gangs to assign a couple of members to guard the perimeter of the storehouse, but they were either exceptional at hiding, or there was no one out there tonight. Ray didn’t allow herself to relax. She still had to get inside and make the climb up three districts.

The front door was visible by the entire alley. Anyone could even see it when they first turned down the alley. The only lights nearby were the candles in the windows of homes many stories above the street. She could just barely make out the door frame and handle. Still, no one around. Although she didn’t reach for them, she made sure she could feel exactly where the sheathed daggers were at her hips.

As Ray reached the door, she slowed, trying to muffle any extra noise her boots or equipment were making. There was only one window across all the walls of the storehouse, and it was to the right of the front door. A rough sheet had been hung up on the inside, but she could see the faint glow of light surrounding its edges.

Is there someone inside after all?

She must have missed some telltale sign of a sentry on her way down the alley, although she had been sure she looked. She had reached the front door without an arrow being shot through her chest, so maybe they were waiting to see what her intentions were.

She swallowed nervously. With a deft hand, she withdrew her left hand into her cloak and pulled out the third dagger that was sheathed right above the small of her back. At the same time, she raised her right hand to knock on the front door. It wouldn’t do her any good to try to sneak inside now.

The knock was quiet, barely perceptible. The old wood of the door absorbed most of the sounds. But she knew that if anyone were inside, they would have heard. She held her breath and waited, listening attentively for any sign of movement from within.

When Ray reached her limit and had to exhale, she took one step back and surveyed the door and window again. The glow behind the sheet was steady, as if multiple candles had been lit. She couldn’t see around the sheet, so she had no clue if there was a guard stationed inside or not. From previous experiences, if there was a light coming from the window, there was almost certainly a guard waiting on the other side with a crossbow or sword at the ready.

There were no other sounds on the street besides her own very faint breathing. She cast a glance around her once more. No odd silhouettes or movement from the windows and balconies on either side of the alley. She looked directly above the door at the sheer surface of the cliff just out of habit. Nothing was above the door, but she always made sure to check to see if anyone had made any alterations to the cliffside and had carved out a small peeping window or ledge to push something off of. But there was nothing.

She grimaced and reached out to open the door. She twisted the knob and pushed it in, her grip on her dagger tightening. She didn’t move forward lest she be caught by a guard on the inside.

Surprisingly, the door swung open, and no one came charging out. It hit the wall of the entryway with a thud and stayed open, allowing her to see inside from the threshold. There was no one in the entryway, which was just a small square room with a chair, table, and several lit candles. From the entryway, there was only one other direction to go and that was further into the storehouse opposite the front entrance. It was another door that was also closed. She looked over every inch of the room until she was certain there was no elaborate trap waiting for her. Ray stepped into the entryway and quickly closed the door behind her, her grip never loosening on her dagger.

She held her ear up to the wood of the next door, listening for signs of life on the other side. Again, there was nothing.

What’s going on? Uneasiness set in, and her stomach tightened. This isn’t normal. Why are there lights on in the storehouse if it’s abandoned? She wondered what would be on the other side of the door. Is someone waiting for me? There’s no way anyone would’ve known I’d make the climb. I didn’t even know I’d come this way. So, what’s the point of having candles burning in the night? Is this a trap set up by a rival gang trying to bring the Walkers down a peg, one kill at a time?

None of this makes any sense.

She held her breath and opened the door, preparing to strike with the dagger. The next room was the storehouse proper, filled end to end with rows of empty shelves. All the chandeliers were glowing brightly with fresh candles. From where she was standing, she could see the whole floor and the complete absence of people or things. Her heart pounded in her chest, and it was all she could hear. The storehouse was deathly silent. Silent and yet alive with lights.

She exhaled and stepped forward, closing the door behind her. There was one other room in the storehouse that she needed to get through—the back room. At one point it had been another storage room, but a long time ago some gang had turned it into living quarters for those who guarded the storehouse and the tunnel. The entrance to the tunnel was in those living quarters, so that’s where she had to go. Her legs were heavy, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to cross the room. But she had to.

The threshold to the living quarters was completely open. All she could see inside were stacks of crates and some rolled-up fabrics. Candles burned brightly from within. She could smell the faint scents of sweat and alcohol. As she approached the threshold, some primal instinct flared to life within her. Whatever was in this room, it was dangerous, and she shouldn’t be there.

But Naro needs to know about it, whatever it is.

She mustered her courage and stepped into the backroom.

There was a clatter and clang and she jumped. Her dagger lay on the ground behind her, having fallen from her slack grip. There had to be ten or twelve corpses in this room spread all about as if they had died during their nightly routines. Three bodies were intertwined on a bed in various stages of undress. Two more were lounging across a couple of crates pushed together to serve as seating. Another had collapsed near some shelves that had plates and utensils on them, fresh fruit and smoked meat scattered across the floor.

Ray picked up her dagger and looked over the corpses, searching for some clues as to what happened and when they had died. She realized that they all had something in common—black veins across their faces and throats, black irises, and dried blood dribbling from their eyes and nose. These people had all overdosed on athra.

Her blood ran cold, and her eyes widened. She had seen one or two overdoses like this before, but never so many in one place.

Who are these people?

She looked around the room for some kind of identifiers when noticed the clothes they were wearing and the banners that were half-hung on the walls. Blue handprints were evident on their tunics. In the palm of each hand was a lidless eye, all staring at Ray. She crossed over to where a pile of fabrics lay and picked one up with trembling fingers. The fabrics were all shades of blue and she knew what would be on them when she unfurled it.

These were all sigils and markings of the Syrael Walkers.

But she recognized none of these people as her own.

Who were these people, and why were they dressed like the Walkers?

Off in the distance there was a loud thud as one of the doors was forced open. She heard voices from the storeroom along with the clatter of armor, weapons, and shields.

“Spread out! They’re here somewhere,” a thunderous voice boomed.

Panic threatened to overtake Ray’s body, and she was overwhelmed with an immediate urge to flee. She nearly dropped the fabric and her dagger again but managed to secure her grip at the last moment.

What in the Protector’s grace are the city guards doing here?

She stood in the middle of the room, easily seen from the opposite end of the storeroom. There were only two ways out of the storehouse—up the ladder or out the front door. She shuffled backward. If the guards were here, they would go to the ladder and search the tunnel. She would be caught almost immediately. The entrance to the tunnel was across the room from her to the left of the threshold behind a dark blue curtain. A curtain with the Walkers’ sigil on it. Her stomach churned.

She was going to get caught.

Her back hit the wall and her heel bumped against an oddly protruding stone, shooting pain up her leg. She leaned against the wall and reached down to rub her heel when it suddenly gave way, and she fell backwards. All the air in her lungs was forced out as she hit the ground. She gritted her teeth and suppressed a scream of pain. Ray opened her mouth and took deep, quiet breaths, trying to regain her composure. The back of her head throbbed as she forced herself into a sitting position and gingerly reached around to feel for lumps or blood. Thankfully, she found nothing.

Ray didn’t understand what she was looking at. She could see into the living quarters, but it was as if she wore a veil. Something was between her and the room. She blinked to try to clear her vision, but the distortion was still there. She could make out lines in the distortion, almost like blocks of stone… Her eyes widened. It was as if the wall were see-through. An illusion.

Guards wearing blue and green gambesons poured into the room and immediately began calling out to each other, pointing at the bodies.

“Sir, found them!”

“By the Protector, it’s a massacre.”

“Look for survivors.”

They all spread out, inspecting the dead bodies and the room. Several grumbled and muttering under their breaths as they opened the crates.

“Damn Walkers. Killed themselves on their own haul.”

“This has to be enough evidence for the king to smoke the rats out, innit sir?”

A couple of the guards approached Ray. She felt a couple of tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t want to get captured like this. She didn’t want to get captured at all. Naro would be so disappointed in her. She was only supposed to be a pair of eyes, not involved in this.

The two guards stopped near the wall and looked around. “Nothing over here, sir,” one of them called out.

Ray didn’t understand. They can’t see me?

She pulled herself to her feet.

This is unreal.

Walls didn’t just disappear when someone leaned against them, only to reappear seconds later. What was going on? This had to be some elaborate trap, but she didn’t understand how it worked.

But she was safe.

She let out a slow, quiet exhale. She was safe.

The guards continued ransacking the room and talking to one another. One of the guards touched his fingertips to his lips, then his heart, then his forehead, a common sign of respecting the dead.

“Rats don’t deserve it,” another guard growled.

“That’s for the Protector to decide,” the first responded with an even tone.

Ray would have to wait until they left before she could attempt to leave, so she decided to take in her surroundings of the mysterious room she had fallen into. There were no candles, but the light from the living quarters was just bright enough for her to see. It wasn’t a large room, more like a short hallway. On one end was the illusory wall and on the other was a ladder that went down.

Down?

She crossed over to the ladder and looked down the hole, but she could see nothing, it was pitch black. She looked back over her shoulder at the guards, wondering how long they would be in the storehouse. She considered climbing down the ladder. Perhaps it was a cellar of some kind… but that was impossible. Below the storehouse was the Docks District. Perhaps this ladder connected to another safehouse down there.

Then why haven’t I heard of this before?

“Smoke out the tunnel,” the captain of the guard told his men. “Bring the athra supply back to the barracks. We’ll return tomorrow to clean this place out.”

Ray’s stomach dropped, and her blood ran cold. On occasion, the city guard would raid the storehouse and light fires in the tunnel to burn away the ladder and choke any poor soul who happened to be climbing up it. They were always careful to keep the fire contained to the tunnel, lest they destroy the rest of the building, but the smoke would still be a danger to her. Two of them were lifting a crate and hauling it out of the room—the athra supply. A few of the other guards disappeared into the tunnel with some crates. The smell of fire and smoke filled the area. As the guards left, one of them looked back at the corpses and spit on the ground. He mumbled something under his breath, but Ray couldn’t hear him.

With the smoke spreading, she had little time to spare. Her eyes watered and breathing became difficult, but she had to wait until there was no more rustling or creaking of armor. The doors opened and closed several times. Soon voices could no longer be heard. She reached out to touch the illusionary wall and felt nothing as her fingers passed completely through. Ray stepped through the wall and into the living quarters. No guards remained, which she had been hoping for. They would be back by sunsrise, though, to continue their investigation. She had to get to Naro and tell him what had happened in the warehouse. Without the tunnel, she’d have to go back into the streets and either find another route up in the Gutters or take her chances on the Golden Path.

But first she needed to get out of the storehouse without suffocating.

The rest of the way was clear, but she was wary of the front door. She didn’t know if they had stationed guards outside of the storehouse until they could return, but she would have to take her chances.

She crouched down by the front door and slinked over to the window. The guards had left the candles burning inside, so she had to take great care with lifting the curtain to not draw attention to herself. Ray crammed herself into the corner to look at as much of the front door as she possibly could. With dexterous fingers, she lifted the edge of the curtain to look out into the night. No one was standing outside of the door that she could see. Ray gently lowered the curtain. The view hadn’t been the best, so she was still gambling her life by leaving the storehouse. She looked down at the dagger in her clenched fist. I don’t want to use this.

She took hold of the door and pulled slowly, bracing herself for any shouts or attacks. But the coast was clear. With no one standing in her way, she bolted into the night, taking in deep gulps of fresh air.

The best way up is going to be on the Golden Path, she thought.

With the guards hitting the storehouse tonight, she wasn’t sure if the other hidden paths up would be safe. Before she got to the road, though, she needed to lose her daggers. During the day she could have passed upward into the city with them, but the guards took no chances at night. If weapons were found, they would get confiscated, and the people who had them could get into trouble. Ray couldn’t chance that. She had to appear as docile as possible. Leaving her three blades behind a couple of crates, she continued on her way.

It was easy enough to leave the daggers behind. They were just standard blades, no special make or markings. Other gangs like the Iron Hawks liked to dress up their weapons, so people knew who they belonged to. The Walkers didn’t need to flaunt their weapons or their clothing. For all intents and purposes, anyone on the street could be a Walker. Tonight, however, Ray hoped that the guards wouldn’t make such an assumption when she tried passing through to the Crafting District.

She backtracked down to the docks to access the Golden Path properly. It would do her no good to sneak onto the road halfway up, lest she risk getting caught by the guards. She took her cloak off and bundled it up under her arm. The rest of her clothes were unassuming enough. Boots, pants, shirt, vest, and a coat. All the things a normal citizen would wear during colder weather. She ran a hand through her hair and ruffled it up so it would appear windblown. She racked her brain for a quick and easy story to tell when she was inevitably stopped.

The road twisted through the lower tiers of Auora on an upward slope. It passed over the Gutters and the tier where the soldiers lived. Most folks referred to it as the Barrier since the city treated the Gutters as if it were plagued, and the soldiers were the only buffer between them and safety.

“Halt!” came the expected call as she neared a watch post on the road.

Ray slowed her pace and stopped as two guards approached her, torches burning brightly in their hands. The guard on the left raised his light to get a better look at her face.

“What are you doing out so late?” the guard asked, his free hand sliding to the hilt of his sword.

“And what’s that in your hands?” the other inquired as he gestured toward her cloak.

“I’s working on one of my pa’s boats.” Ray’s voice came out barely louder than a mumble as she deepened her voice and tried her best to sound like a boy instead of a girl. Although she was a woman now, just barely, she had never really grown into her body. She was still lanky and skinny, and her chest rather flat. It was handy when she needed to fool the guards into thinking she was a boy. She unfurled the cloak and held it up for inspection. “It’s jus’ my cape. Didn’t wanna leave it on the boat.”

The guards looked at each other and stepped toward her. “Where does your pa live, and why’s he sending you out so late?” the first one asked.

“Arms out for an inspection,” the other grumbled, handing his torch off to his companion.

Ray spread her arms. “We have a house above the Crafting District. Pa’s a woodworker, I’m learning from him. He carves pretty things on the boats sometimes if a customer asks. He gave me this one to work on.”

The guard holding the torches scoffed. The other continued his pat down. Although Ray had been through this process many times over, she was still uncomfortable with the touch of the guards.

The guard sniffed and made an ugly expression. “How come you smell like smoke?”

“Kept my lantern too close while I’s workin’, I s’pose,” Ray managed to respond.

The guard grunted then turned back to his companion. “Nothing.”

The other guard scoffed again, handing the torch back over. “You’re good to go. Don’t stay out so late down there, though. Unsavory folk come out at night.”

“Yessir.” Ray bowed her head and continued up the Golden Path, never once looking back at the guards.

As the road curved and wrapped around the island, she slipped her cloak on and pulled the hood over her head. Streets protruded from the Golden Path. She was in the Crafting District now where many shops and workspaces lined the roads. All was quiet. No one was crafting that late at night. Naro’s safehouse was nestled in the residential area of the Crafting District, so she turned off the Golden Path and made her way toward one of the ramps that led up to where the houses were. The Crafting District was similarly stacked with houses, made with stone walls and solid wood unlike the ratty boards far below in the Gutters.

There were many boarding houses here where crafters from faraway lands could rent living quarters while they were in town to make or sell their goods, several of which Ray was familiar with. The Walkers had contacts with many of the cities outside Auora, and would frequently meet up at the boarding houses or the taverns nearby to discuss trade agreements.

Other homes in the district were modest standalone homes where a crafter would live with his family. Almost all the crafters in Auora were some kind of smith, be it weaponry or woodworking. These men and women made good, honest money with their craft. Sometimes Ray wondered what it would be like to be a shop hand at one of their stores, but she knew it wasn’t the right fit for her. She had been born in the Gutters where her parents and their parents before them had been born. Most folks born in the Gutters never made it any higher than that.

Naro’s house was tucked away into the cliffside. It was two stories tall and rather plain, the bottom story made entirely of stone. The walls of the second story were made of timber from the Imalar Woods. Fencing wrapped around a small side yard where a couple of crates were stacked. No crops grew because the yard never really saw the suns.

There was one lit candle upstairs in the far-left window above the yard. Ray knew that was where the lookout would have been stationed. She lowered her hood as she approached the gate. It creaked as she opened and closed it. Two dogs crossed from the back of the yard to her. They let out a couple of quiet barks, sounding more like deep snorts of air than true barking. She stretched her hands out to let them sniff her better. They immediately recognized her scent—she frequently visited this house—and circled around her as she made her way to the side door.

While the outside of the house was plain, the inside was anything but. Ray entered the kitchen, which was mostly counters, cupboards, a large stone oven, and a roasting pit. The smell of exotic spices filled the air, reawakening her hunger from earlier. Jars and sacks of goods from other cities and territories crowded the countertops. Inside the oven a small fire burned, and a couple of clay pots were on the rack. A woman chopped dried fruits nearby. As Ray came inside, she turned around.

“Not your night to be here,” the cook grumbled, pointing the knife at Ray. It was Hilthe, one of the women Naro employed to tend his home and provide his meals.

Hilthe was an older woman with graying hair and wrinkles all over her face, but she had a sturdy frame and knew how to use a butcher’s knife. She was like a grandmother to the younger Walkers like Ray. Although Hilthe had been warned not to get too attached to any of them, she still went out of her way to bake pastries if some of the young ones had watch duty at Naro’s house.

“I got something for the boss. Is he here?” Ray responded, not minding the weapon. Hilthe was dangerous with a blade, but never toward the Walkers. Ray knew she was just grumpy that she had been interrupted during her morning work. Is it dawn already?

“Aye. And he’s already up, I reckon,” Hilthe responded, turning back to her cutting. “Before you go, grab another pot and put it up here for me.”

Hilthe was going to make her food. Judging by the fruits and spices within Hilthe’s reach, Ray assumed it was porridge. Her stomach growled at the thought of it. It had been several days since she’d last had Hilthe’s porridge. She hoped that there were still some cadra berries from last time. Her gaze swept across the room, and she saw a stack of clay pots near the doorway leading to the dining hall. She grabbed one and set it down gently beside the cutting board.

“Thank you, Hilthe,” Ray said sweetly, pressing a kiss to the woman’s head. Hilthe grumbled wordlessly and continued with what she was doing. Ray left the kitchen and headed further into the house.

On the lower floor there were three rooms, four if she counted the entryway by the front door—the kitchen, the dining hall, and the lounge. The only way to get upstairs from the kitchen was through the dining hall. The dining hall was what Ray imagined the royal dining hall was like, with paintings hanging on every wall and beautiful benches and a table filling the floor. The table could easily seat ten or twelve people. Naro always sat at the head of the table in a chair with a tall back and plush blue cushions. She’d probably be eating in this room later once everyone had been called for breakfast.

From the dining hall there were two exits to the lounge and the front entryway. The lounge took up nearly half of the floor and was where Naro would sometimes receive visitors. It was a cozy room and it always made Ray feel warm and sleepy. During her shifts at the house, she spent her downtime in the lounge. Naro had commissioned a painting of the night sky on the ceiling, so she would lay down on the floor or one of the plush couches and stargaze. The windows were covered with heavy drapes from Lithalyon to block out light. Several lamps were scattered throughout the room, candles burning low.

In the entryway was a staircase leading up to the second floor. Ray quickly navigated through the bottom floor and up the stairs where there was a door on each of the three walls surrounding her. She knew the doors on the left and right were bedrooms for other Walkers to use and patrol from. The door straight ahead led to Naro’s room.

As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she crossed the landing and knocked on Naro’s door. From the other side, she heard voices hush. She hadn’t been concerned with waking him up, but who would have been in his room at this time of night?

“Enter,” Naro commanded, his voice muffled.

Ray opened the door and immediately sunk into a bow, an apology on her lips. “Sir I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“It’s alright, Ray.” Naro said with a voice thick like honey.

Ray looked up and in the dim candlelight saw that Sabyl, one of Naro’s two lieutenants, was in the room with him. She had an ugly frown on her face, but she usually did, so Ray couldn’t determine what they might have been talking about. Sabyl was a plain woman with black hair and brown eyes. She was in her early thirties and had been with the Walkers since childhood, much like Ray. She looked up to Sabyl sometimes when they were on amicable terms. That wasn’t too often because Sabyl always acted like she had a stick for a spine.

“I thought you had the night off,” Sabyl growled.

“Yeah, well, some news can’t wait,” Ray snapped back. She had learned long ago that if she was ever going to win Sabyl’s respect that she needed to grow a backbone of her own.

Naro sighed, a sound Ray imagined a parent would make when their children were bickering, and they wanted nothing more than to disappear into the night. It was a sound that Ray tried to avoid at all costs. Her stomach knotted and she immediately backed down. Sabyl stood her ground, her eyes not leaving Ray.

Naro turned to look at Sabyl, waiting patiently until she looked back at him. He inclined his head toward the door which elicited a scowl from the woman, but she understood his order. She strode past Ray who had to turn to avoid bumping shoulders with the older woman.

“I’m sorry, Naro,” Ray mumbled after Sabyl left.

“You’ll command respect from her one day,” Naro replied. “She knows this, even if she doesn’t admit it.”

She took in his words but didn’t think much of the meaning behind them. Naro knew many things. Ray didn’t quite understand how, but he would often make casual statements about someone’s future that came true. The world had told her that magic was gone, but Naro was clearly magic-touched. He kept his talents to himself and a select few others, though. The world was not ready for him to reveal himself; that was what he often told Ray.

“Why did you come tonight, child?” Naro asked, looking at her. In the gloomy light his mismatching eyes looked the same dark colorless shade, his bronze skin closer to the color of night. He was almost like a shadow. It was a rather fitting look for the leader of the oldest gang in Auora.

“The storehouse in the Gutters was raided tonight,” Ray said, drawing confidence from Naro’s presence. “Someone framed it to look like it was ours.”

Naro leaned back in his chair and was silent for a moment. “They found athra there.”

Ray nodded.

“This game is getting dangerous,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “More dangerous than a pair of eyes need be in.”

They locked eyes again.

“After you get some rest, tell Sabyl everything you’ve learned about the athra outbreak. I’m going to find you a different assignment. It’s grown beyond your suit of talents.” Naro’s quiet voice was somehow both authoritative and soothing. It softened the blow of his decision.

Ray couldn’t keep her face from twisting into a disappointing frown. “But Naro, I—”

“Trust in me, child,” Naro said, and she stayed silent. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

He always knows when there’s more.

“I found something at the storehouse, and I’m not sure who else knows about it,” Ray began, uncertain of how to describe the illusory wall and the ladder leading downward. “When I was investigating the storehouse, the guards showed up. I thought I was going to get caught, so I panicked, and I… fell through a wall.”

Naro didn’t seem to mind. He waited patiently for her to continue and explain what she meant.

“I-It was like the wall wasn’t really there. When I got up, I could see through the part I fell through, but the guards couldn’t see me. I have no idea how it was even possible… And the place I fell into, it was a small corridor. One end was the fake wall, and on the other end there was a ladder that went down.”

“Down?” Naro repeated.

“Yeah, but I didn’t check it out… because of the guards…” Ray mumbled.

“Most intriguing.”

“Should I tell Sabyl about this, too?”

Naro was silent for a few moments, which troubled Ray. Doesn’t he want his lieutenant to know about this?

“For now, let this stay between you and I,” Naro told her. “Get some rest, Ray. I will have your next assignment ready when you wake.”

Ray bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her. Her mind raced. She was no longer supposed to investigate the deadly athra strain. She wasn’t supposed to tell Sabyl about the fake wall.

What’s he thinking?

It wasn’t her place to question him. She quickly silenced her thoughts as she went into the bedroom to the left of Naro’s room. No one was in there, which she was thankful for. The room had three beds in it and made it feel very cramped. There were a couple of smaller tables scattered around the room to place belongings on and a giant armoire containing clothing of all stations, but beyond that there wasn’t room for much else. She tugged off her boots and threw herself down on the bed closest to the door, all the energy leaving her body. After an uncomfortable moment of laying still, she pulled off her belt and placed it on the table. No more dagger sheaths to poke her in the back. The suns would be rising now or very soon. She had been up all night without realizing it. She threw an arm over her eyes and quickly fell asleep.

---

Want to read more? Buy your copy of THE WHISPERING PASS today!