The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [7]
He missed having people around who believed him about the dragon. It wasn’t the kind of story that was easily brought up in casual bragging over ale. Or anywhere, really.
It was going to be good, he thought, to see Singe and Dandra again. Maybe he could convince them to go looking for some of the others. Ashi was lost to the clutches of House Deneith—for a time at least. But the city of Zarash’ak wasn’t so far away that they couldn’t visit Natrac—
Something moved ahead of him.
Geth’s pace faltered for an instant, but only for an instant. He forced himself to keep walking. Several of Eberron’s twelve moons had risen, and their combined light cast a confusion of shadows onto the streets. A shifter needed very little light to see, and the moons gave more than enough of it for Geth to see clearly that the street ahead was empty.
He had seen something move, but it hadn’t been ahead of him. The movement had been a shadow, as something broke the moonlight over the peak of a roof. The movement had actually been behind him.
A bird? A cat? A bat? He kept walking, eyes on the shadows, ears alert. Not likely a bird—they would all be roosting for the night. A bat would still have been visible as it flapped its wings. A cat—possibly, but surely he would have seen its shadow again, yet there was nothing.
Could it be Urik and his friends, back on his trail? Geth couldn’t believe they could be so stealthy.
He walked a little farther, taking the measure of the street ahead and the town around him. He’d wandered into an area of Lathleer that seemed a little more down on its luck than other areas. The streets were narrow and twisting, the windows on the buildings tightly shuttered. He had a strong feeling that if a fight broke out here, no one would be rushing to see what was happening.
A short distance ahead, the street split into two lanes that passed on each side of a closed-up shop before meandering on through the town. Geth made a rough guess at how long it would take him to reach the intersection—then took a firm hold on his pack and broke into a sprint.
The slapping of his steps echoed from the walls and wrapped him in noise. If there were any sounds of surprise from whatever—or whoever—was behind him, he couldn’t hear them. Maybe his own footsteps were too loud. Maybe his pursuers were even more subtle than he thought. He put his head down and ran fast, veering slightly toward the lane that looked most likely to lead out of Lathleer.
Did something move against the moonlight? More shadows, breaking concealment to give chase? At his running pace, it was difficult to tell. Still no sound of pursuit. The intersection and the closed shop drew closer, and the lane opened before him.
At the last instant, Geth turned aside and whirled. His shoulders and pack slammed against the wooden shutters of the storefront with a loud crack, and Geth stared back along the street.
His pursuers—still racing after him—stared back, caught by surprise at the move. Geth caught a glimpse of black-clad figures moving like shadows along the street and the rooftops. A glimpse was all he caught, however. As soon as they saw that he had stopped, the figures froze and vanished. Their disappearance was so sudden and complete that Geth could almost believe what he had just seen had been his imagination.
He knew better though. Caught, the figures weren’t quite so subtle now as they had been before. If he looked closely, Geth could see the bulge of a shadow where one sought to hide. A roof tile clicked as another, unseen, shifted its weight.
Alarm rose in his throat. Grandmother Wolf, he thought, who were they?
In one way, at least, it didn’t matter who they were. Fists might have been fine against brawlers like Urik, but he’d be damned if he was going to face these mysterious figures with empty hands. Geth shrugged and his pack slid from