They were still behind him.
He was running out of options. The mercs were too damn good. The elf would have bet that he would have lost them by now, but they were only about a block behind him. The blood dripping down his arm didn't help either. The crossbow bolt had just grazed it, but it was a deep wound and bled profusely. His long, dark hair whipped around his face as he turned his head for another quick look. Though stocky for an elf and in excellent condition, his wiry frame was definitely built for sprinting, not distance running as this chase was turning into.
How did I get into this mess? he thought.
He had been casing the apartment for days and was sure that the owners were out, when he entered through the second story window. Then a torch flared, and he was facing two burly mercenaries. He didn't even remember getting down to the street, the only evidence of his flight a slightly sore ankle and the crossbow wound supplied by one of the mercs from the window.
The three on street chased after him as he fled, and here we were.
Back in the present, as he made one random turn after another, he considered his remaining options:
One: turn and face them. No good. One would be no problem; I could probably take two; but three...no chance.
Two: keep trying to lose them. No, that wouldn't do either. My legs feel like lead weights and they're not even breathing hard.
Three: Damn. A slim chance, but my only one.
Raven changed his pattern and began running with purpose. Using his last reserves of strength, he pulled two more blocks away from his pursuers, and then ducked down a narrow, dirty alleyway. He skidded to a halt in front of what looked like an ordinary brick wall.
Knock. Knock. <pause> Knock. <pause> Knock. Knock. Knock.
A section of the wall swung inward suddenly. Raven rushed in, grabbed the concealed door and slammed it shut. Leaning against it, panting heavily, he looked up to see a human in brown pants and a leather jerkin leaning against the door jamb opposite him, picking his fingernails with a wicked looking dagger. Raven wanted to wipe the smart-ass smirk off his face, but he didn't have the strength for it.
"So, you must be the great Ghost we've heard so much about. We knew you'd come to us eventually."
Just then, they could hear the sound of metal on brick as the mercenaries tested the walls.
"Well, come along. They just might find the door and I need you alive."
Sullenly, Raven followed the man's gesture to walk in front of him. Obeying his instructions, the elf wound his way through the labyrinthian tunnels until he reached a rather unremarkable door.
"Open it."
They entered a small room with a table and chair. In the chair was a pretty, young woman who pointed at a box on the table.
"Please put your weapons the box."
Raven dropped his dagger in the box, and pulled the short sword from this back and dropped it in as well. He turned back to the man, who just gave him a hard look. Raven removed the concealed knives from his wrist sheaths, calf sheaths and one from behind his neck.
"Okay?"
While the man watched, the girl quickly bound his wound.
"Go in," the man ordered.
The room was smoky with the incense that burned in the brazier. Sitting lotus style amidst the haze was the oldest human Raven had ever seen. The beautifully embroidered rug beneath him spoke of riches that Raven had only imagined. although the old man wore only a breechclout. Moving a little closer, Raven saw that the brazier was inlaid with enamel of gorgeous exotic colors. Other than the rug and brazier, the room was bare, no one else was in the room, and there were no other obvious doors.
"Sit," the old man commanded, and Raven sat, startling himself. The old man smiled slightly but said nothing, continuing to stare at Raven as if he were reading his soul. Raven tried to stare back with equal intensity, but knew he was not succeeding. Next, he tried to fall back on his stoic elven training, but the old man's dark eyes penetrated Raven's calm veneer within minutes. Finally, he could tolerate it no longer.
"What do you want, old man?"
To his surprise the old man answered: "Better to ask, what do you want, Ghost?"
"I want to get out of here."
"After all the trouble we went through to make sure that you would accept our little...invitation?"
"You..." Raven gulped, "you set those mercs on me?"
"Why, yes, of course. Did you really think that you could steal in this city indefinitely without our catching up to you?"
"No. This was to be my last job before moving on."
"One too many, then."
"Yes," Raven said bitterly, "so what are you going to do with me now?"
"Ordinarily, you'd already be dead. Those mercenaries had to be paid extra not to kill you."
"So, why am I still alive?"
"Because I like you, Ghost. You did manage to steal in this city for months without being caught, either by us or the Guard. That shows skill. You knew your limitations and came here when we had you cornered. That shows intelligence. These are qualities we can use."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Ghost, my boy, you now have to make a choice: join the Guild...or die."
"Not much of a choice."
The old man said nothing.
"Okay. You've got me. I'll join your Guild."
"Good, but it's not that easy. First you have to pass the test."
"Test? What test? You already know how good I am."
"In five days I'll know a little better. I want you rested and well, then we'll see how good you really are, Ghost."
The old man clapped his hands twice and the door opened. The young woman from the other room and a huge half-ork entered.
"Take the Ghost to his quarters and make sure his every need is satisfied. He is to get plenty of rest. Oh, and if he tries to escape...kill him."
Raven got up to leave, but turned back to the old man.
"Wait, who are you?"
"You may call me 'Grandfather.'"
Raven just stood there as the old man smiled at his shocked expression.
"Now, pick your jaw off of the ground and move along, my boy. You have a difficult task before you."
(To be continued)
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