The Chimney: The Merc Papers Read online

  As they continued in silence, She sensed they were navigating a labyrinth with no exit. The deeper they went, the darker it seemed to get. Not even the streetlamps could chase away the shadows. There were secrets hidden in this part of the Chimney.

  Brian stopped and pointed down a dark alley. “We’ll cut through here.”

  “Are you sure this is the right way?”

  “Positive. Robin’s Square is just on the other side.”

  Although she was starting to doubt he knew where he was going, Emily had no other choice but to follow him at this point. Her only other option was to find her own way, and given the size of the city, that could take a while.

  The alley didn’t cut through as Brian said it would, but instead ended in an old rundown courtyard. At one time, it might have been a pleasant place, but that time was long gone. Now they stood among the burned-out ruins of abandoned buildings. The fires may have long been extinguished, but the damage remained.

  “I thought you said we could get through here.”

  “Well, it’s been a few years.” Brian shrugged. He didn’t seem as concerned as he should be “Maybe they—”

  “What? Moved the buildings?”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I must have gotten my streets wrong.”

  “I think we should go back to the transit station and ask for directions.”

  “What do you have here?”

  The voice came from behind them.

  A man stepped out of the shadows, blocking their only exit. He was dressed all in black with a hood over his head. All they could see of his face was a large toothy grin. In his right hand, he held a heavy wooden club, which he casually slapped into the open palm of the other. He slowly walked toward them.

  “You two seemed to have wandered into the wrong place.”

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Brian said. He was already holding his hands up. “We’re just looking for Robin’s Square.”

  “Robin’s Square?” the hooded man repeated. “Never heard of the place. How about you, Nok? You know of a Robin’s Square?”

  From an alcove in one of the burned-out buildings, a second man appeared. He was taller than his hooded friend, and thinner too. Pallor skin, bald-headed, with about five days of scruff growing on his face.

  “There ain’t no Robin’s Square around here,” he answered.

  Brian laughed nervously “Of course there is. You know. Robin’s Square, right next to Galbassi Lane.”

  The dark-hooded man stopped walking; his large toothy grin faltered. “Galbassi Lane, you say?”

  There was a knowing edge to his voice.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Galbassi Lane,” Brian enunciated the name slowly.

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  The hooded man lowered his weapon and gave a nod to his taller friend. It was so slight, it almost went unnoticed, but Emily saw it.

  Nok lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, but she was ready for him. Dropping down, she pulled him off balance, then snapped her head back to break his nose. There was a satisfying crack as Nok fell backward, pulling Emily down with him. When they hit the ground, she jabbed her elbow into his ribs and rolled to her feet. The hooded man was already moving. She ran toward him, closing the gap. He swung the wooden club at her head, but she was already inside his attack. Palm to the jaw. Knee to the groin. Isolate the arm and twist. Extract the weapon and break the kneecap. The hooded man went down screaming.

  “Brian, get back to the street,” she shouted, waving him toward the exit.

  Tightening her grip on the wooden club, she slowly backed away from the two men. They may not wish to continue the fight, but there was no telling how many more were hiding in the shadows of the old buildings. She managed to take two more steps before the world started spinning. First clockwise, then counterclockwise, then straight over her head. That’s when everything went black.

  Chapter 2

  Fluffy Pink Rabbit

  Emily’s head was pounding, the world was spinning, and all she could do was lie there staring at the carpet, with its strange assortment of blues and grays. It smelled as if it hadn’t be cleaned in the last century. The room where they kept her wasn’t huge, or at least it didn’t feel that way, but it was cold. Her shirt had been torn and there was a lingering taste of acid in her mouth. People stood in the back of the room, out of her line of sight. Based on the number of voices she could hear, there were three of them, although she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their words were muffled and distant, as if she was listening to them from underwater. She had to concentrate on each syllable before the voices began to make any sense.

  “Are you sure?”

  “See for yourself.”

  “You think it’s a slave mark?”

  “I don’t know. Get the boss. See what he thinks.”

  One of the voices left the room. He ran off to the left, and the sound of heavy boots faded into the distance. Emily tried to move but couldn’t. She had no feeling in her arms or legs.

  “It doesn’t look like any slave mark I’ve ever seen,” one of the remaining voices said. He was moving behind her now, pacing back and forth. “It’s too big. See how it takes up most of her back?”

  “This could get dicey.” The other voice laughed. “Nobody’s going to want a slave that’s already branded.”

  “We can always try skinning it off, though I doubt if she’d survive.”

  “Don’t let her size fool ya. Ya heard what she did to Tyrer and Nok. Took the two of them out quicker than spit. Not to mention they had to give her a second dose of the poison. She started to wake up in the lorry.”

  “Those two fools, they probably knocked each other out.”

  Heavy Boots returned, followed by a softer pair of shoes.

  “What’s the holdup?” a man asked—and was it a man? His voice was squeaky and sounded more like that of a child.

  “See for yourself, boss. She’s the new pickup, fresh off the boat today.”

  Somebody knelt down beside her; she felt a small hand on her bare back.

  “Remarkable,” the voice squeaked. “I’ve never seen a slave mark this large or this intricate before.”

  “So it is a slave mark.”

  “It has to be.”

  “Then she’s no good to us. It’s like I said: who’s going to want a slave that’s already been marked?”

  “The original owner, of course,” Squeaky Voice answered. “I’m sure he’ll pay handsomely for her return.”

  Heavy Boots walked across the floor, passing in front of her. He stood off to one side. Emily tried to get a look at his face, but she didn’t want to risk moving her head—not that she could move it very far. At the moment, they thought she was unconscious and she needed them to believe that, at least for the time being. All she managed to see of the man was his black iron-shod boots.

  “What makes you so sure?” he asked.

  “Look at her,” Squeaky Voice answered. “She’s obviously been taken care of. No sign of rikers, no dragon tracks. Anyone who is willing to put their slave through that much pain in order to brand her is going to want her back.”

  “But, whose brand is it?”

  “No idea. Most brands are simplistic, a few lines to tell them apart, but this… this is a work of art. It has to be from one of the outer regions. No way it’s local.”

  “I can’t place her species,” Heavy Boots added. “She’s obviously a vir, but the desert skin and silver hair. Could be one of the tribes, but I can’t recall ever seeing anything like her.”

  “The Lotha region… possibly?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I have a few contacts out that way. Maybe one of them will know more. Where did she say she came from?”

  “She didn’t,” one of the earlier voices answered. “We have nothing on her.”

  There was another long pause.

  “Keep her locked up for now,” Squeaky Voice said. “When she
comes to, I will speak with her. Until then, she is not to be harmed. Do you understand? If any harm comes to her, you’ll all find yourselves in the abyss.”

  That must have been the end of the debates as everyone started moving. Two of the men left the room. One of them was Heavy Boots, and the other was, more than likely, Squeaky Voice.

  “We’ll put her in the back room. She’ll be safe there for now.”

  Somebody grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder with ease. She didn’t see his face, but she could tell he was an orc. The ash-gray skin was a dead giveaway. As he carried her down the hall, the sensation in her limbs started to return. The world was still spinning but not as fast as it was before.

  “I have a feeling she’s gonna be a problem when she comes to.”

  That voice came from somewhere off to her right. Emily wanted to look at the man, but again, she didn’t want them to know she was awake.

  “Nah, the poison will last a little while longer,” the orc, who was carrying her, replied.

  “Still. I think we should bind her hands and feet. Just to be on the safe side. Wouldn’t want anything nasty to happen to her—if you know what I mean.”

  “Whatever,” the orc answered.

  There was the jingle of keys and the sound of a lock being turned, followed closely by the squeaking of an opening door.

  “Keep an eye on her until I can find some rope.”

  “I’m telling ya, man. She ain’t going nowhere,” the orc said with a huff.

  The room was small and smelled musty. No lights. No windows. No way out but the way they came in. She couldn’t let them lock her in.

  When the orc threw her down on the bed, she knew it was her best chance to escape. Kicking out with both feet, she caught the side of his left knee. He howled in pain as his leg went out from under him. Jumping to her feet, Emily sprinted for the open door and ran into the wall. Staggering back, she wiped the blood from her face before making another attempt at freedom. She hadn’t fully recovered from the effects of the poison and the room was starting to spin again. It seemed the more she moved, the faster the poison returned. Stumbling into the hall, she ran into the second man, who had found his length of rope. Her vision was still too blurry to get any details, but she was positive he had a head and possibly a nose. She must have caught him by surprise since he stood motionless in the middle of the hall. For one brief moment, they simply stared at each other, before the orc came barreling out of the room screaming profanities and wielding something heavy in his right hand. He swung at her. She ducked. The man with the rope didn’t. The bone-jarring impact slammed him up against the wall and out of her way. She didn’t wait around to see the aftermath. Quickly skirting the fallen man, she made her way back down the hall to the room where she first woke up.

  She was grateful to find it empty.

  There were only two ways out.

  Heavy Boots and Squeaky Voice took the door on the left, so Emily chose the one on the right. Grabbing a strange-looking lantern from off a table, as well as the tattered remains of the tablecloth, she stumbled out the door. Although every instinct within her told her to stand and fight, she knew it would be a mistake. She was no match for them, not in her condition. She had to put as much distance between them as possible. Sometimes it is necessary to take two steps back before you can take one step forward, but she had no idea where those steps would take her.

  The corridors were narrow and dark. Pipes of various thicknesses lined the walls and the smell of sewage filled the air. She couldn’t risk using the light; it would be too easy to follow. Instead, she wrapped the tablecloth around her shoulders and stumbled blindly into the darkness. Dragging her hand along one of the walls, she hoped it would lead her to safety

  She took two lefts and a right before she collapsed. With every step, it felt as if the poison in her system was getting stronger. It was becoming harder to maintain balance, but she had to keep moving. The orc, and the vir with his rope, would be looking for her. Now that they knew she was conscious, they wouldn’t be so careless a second go-round.

  Getting to her feet, she took a few more steps before vomiting. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she was getting weaker by the minute. If she wanted to survive this, she needed to find a safe place to regain her strength and let the poison run its course; but she wasn’t going any farther in the dark. She needed light. Fumbling with the lantern, it took her a few tries to get it working. A strange cylindrical device, it gave off light without heat or the need for fuel. Another product of Mana-Tech no doubt.

  Emily slowly scanned the area ahead of her, as well as behind her—there was little difference. It was all one long, dark corridor with no end in sight. She started forward again at a slower pace but stopped when she heard footsteps in the distance.

  The light betrayed her.

  It was difficult to tell where the sounds were coming from. They echoed through the darkness off the stone walls, multiplying the footsteps until it sounded like a mob was coming at her from both directions. She needed to find a place to hide. Up ahead, a row of pipes turned down and disappeared into the wall. When she got closer she found a narrow opening cut into the base of the stone. It was wide enough for her to fit through but too deep for the lantern to tell her how far back it went.

  Squeezing into the hole, Emily pulled herself along the pipes until she was sure she was far enough in; then she turned the lantern off and waited in the dark.

  She didn’t have to wait for long.

  Through the hole, she watched as the corridor lit up. There were multiple sources of light now coming from multiple directions. As they grew brighter, she spotted the first of the shadows and heard the voices of her pursuers.

  “I saw it. It was somewhere over here.”

  It was the orc, and he didn’t sound too pleased.

  There was a lot of noise up and down the corridor, a lot of feet passing the opening of the hole, but nobody thought to look down. When they found the puddle she’d left behind, there was more noise. So much for a clean getaway.

  “She couldn’t have gone far. The poison’s still in her system.”

  For a moment, the search seemed to be moving off. She breathed a sigh of relief until her hiding place suddenly lit up.

  “She’s in here.”

  An ash-gray arm reached into the hole and tried to grab her foot, but she was too far in, and they were too big to come in after her. She was safe for the time being. Since returning to the corridor was out of the question, her only option was to see where the tunnel led. She pulled herself deeper into the hole.

  The space was small and there was barely enough room for the pipes. What void they left was jagged and uneven and she could feel every sharp rock as she dragged herself over them. It wasn’t even a straight channel. It twisted and turned over one pipe and under the next. There was no telling how far she came, or how far she still had to go, or if there was even an end. In a few places, the path was so narrow, she wondered if she’d be able to squeeze through. The thought of being stuck, with no chance of rescue, was the only incentive she needed to keep going.

  Eventually her cramped little world opened into a large, vertical shaft. Emily pulled herself free and fell into a cistern filled with about three feet of dirty water. A faint gray light shone down from above. She paused to catch her breath, but the stench of the water made it difficult.

  Of the three pipes she followed, one went left, one went right, and one went straight up. There was no use following either the left or the right pipe; the holes they passed through were now too small even for her. That left the pipe going up. Grabbing hold, she started to climb. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as she thought it would be. The sections of the pipe made for good finger grips. It was simply a matter of going slow and maintaining consciousness. She was still feeling the effects of the poison. Whatever they used, it was pretty potent.

  After nearly twenty minutes, she pulled herself up onto level ground. Blue
crystals, in metal cages mounted on the ceiling, provided light. Smaller pipes as well as thick cables ran the length of the walls. It appeared to be some type of maintenance tunnel. Emily lay down on the cold stone and, once again, tried to catch her breath.

  As before, her options were limited. She could go left or she could go right. It was impossible to tell which direction would lead her to safety, and she had to believe her captors were still looking for her. Getting to her feet, she pulled the tattered tablecloth tighter about her shoulders and started walking. There was no reason for the direction she chose, only that she had to keep moving. Progress was slow. Sometimes she stumbled, sometimes she crawled, but most of the time, she leaned against the wall and dragged herself down the endless corridor. She wasn’t even sure she was moving since the corridor didn’t seem to change—until she found the door.

  Grasping the handle, and using the last of her strength, she pulled on the door. The old hinges squealed in protest as cool air rushed through the breach. She managed to get the door open wide enough to squeeze through and found herself back on the streets of New Doral, but they appeared to be deserted. Bracing herself against a streetlamp, Emily forced herself to move from one object to the next, all while trying to remain vertical. The world was spinning faster now and she knew it would only be a matter of time before she gave in to the poison. She needed to keep moving before she did.

  From that moment on, everything was a blur. She wasn’t sure how long she walked or how she managed to make it as far as she did. The silence gave way to the sounds of vehicles rolling down the streets and the voices of people walking past.

  She reached out to them, but they avoided her.

  Falling to her knees, she leaned up against the wall. This was as far as she was going.

  “Are you okay?”