From The Ashes

21

"Because you did not need to know." Bard replied eventually as the two of them stuck close to the buildings surrounding them. Exchanging a look they quickly darted to the side and sought shelter beside a building with a small alcove door. They looked down the walkways and saw two guards walking absentmindedly around. "Listen to me carefully," Bard started while peering out from their hiding place. Even in the oncoming night he could clearly see the watchtower which the wind-lance was housed on. "I need you to distract the guards. Once I'm at the top of the tower, I'll slip the arrow to the bow." Bard explained only for them both to look quickly down the walkways as exclaiming happened.

The guards had spotted them. With a hand to Bain's shoulder, Bard pushed his son to move and to start running. They backtracked slightly and took a few turns before appearing down a level in the town and being close to the waters and docked boats. "Bain...Bain," stopping in a small shack, Bard pulled his son in front of him and looked at him. Holding out the arrow he placed it into his son's hands. Bain's expression dropped, and though a little out of breath he still shook his head quickly and held the arrow back out for Bard to take back. "Keep it safe. Don't let anyone find it." Bard said while placing his hands on Bain's shoulders. He watched as his son struggled to grasp onto what he was saying.

"No." Bain replied with a frown. They looked back the way they had come and listened to the oncoming sounds of heavily booted feet which signalled the guards were drawing near.

"I'll deal with them."

"I'm not leaving!"

"Go!" Bard placed a hand to Bain's shoulder and pushed him away. Bain faltered yet when he saw his father's serious expression he merely nodded and ran away in the opposite direction. With a sigh, Bard followed suit only to cross paths with Braga. The guard naturally looked at him with a sneer. It seemed to be his permanent expression when briefly dwelt on. "Braga," Bard said while eyeing the guard up before looking to those behind him, and then looking over his shoulder as more appeared.

"You're under arrest." Braga said simply while watching as Bard pondered over his words.

"On what charge?" Was the easily given response with a sigh.

"Any charge the Master chooses." Braga replied.

Bard seemed to relent to come with him only to turn away and sharply look back at him while sending a punch across his jaw. Naturally with him down those behind him leapt into action. Ducking back into the small shack, Bard grabbed any item at hand and threw them in the guard's direction. One had a basket, the other had a shelving unit of some sort. While they were distracted he took the opportunity to hand and turned to escape.

Bain had safely missed the attention of the guards, where his son ended up fleeing to Bard didn't know. But he took solace in knowing that he had got away and wasn't being hounded too. Running down a set of stairs, Bard set his sights on the boats before him before skilfully leaping from one to the other before managing to reach the other side. Even as he stepped foot on the dock he could hear the crashing and splashing of the guards failings to copy him.

Thinking his escape was a sure thing, Bard failed to see the foot which was promptly stuck out that tripped him up. Going falling into the surrounding storage around him, he rolled onto his back with a quiet pained noise. Going to push himself up he looked to Alfrid, who seemed to be the culprit for tripping him. He sent a smirk down at him while the Master stepped beside him. Bard looked between the two with a slightly dazed expression before something impacted against his head and everything went black.

—

Naturally, suddenly being surrounded by screaming and the sounds of things being thrown about, the dwarves wasted no time in springing into action. They did not know that there were any orcs present, but here they were literally crashing through the roof. "Down," Alassëa shoved Tilda roughly into Sigrid's arms and managed to somehow disarm an oncoming orc with a frying pan. Smashing it against its wrist, she caught the jagged blade by its handle before it fell to the floor. The twisted creature yelped and went to grip its wrist only to have its own blade rather quickly pierced through his throat.