Chapter One

Lloyd dashed into an alleyway, out of breath and panting heavily. Why are they following me like the plague? He had been running for at least ten minutes, through markets, buildings and over rooftops across the vast city. He was used to being on the run and could handle himself in a fight, but nothing ever as severe as this. These men were coordinated, ruthless, and must have had some military training. During his short stay in the city, he had definitely pinched the nerves of a few of the town’s nobles. Swiping a caravan of imported liquor, robbing another’s mansion of some expensive paintings, blackmailing a third who had ties to some less than reputable locations; but still, who would hire such men?

He recalled the events leading up to his current predicament. It had been about noon in the bazaar, the sun beating down upon the hundreds of vendors and patrons. Lloyd had meandered between the booths, lifting coin purses of some wealthier shoppers and grabbing lunch from vendor’s that were distracted; just a normal day in the city for him. As he was getting out some money to hustle a basket salesman he had dropped his coin pouch. When he bent down to retrieve it a woman screamed beside him, arm out and pointing at the man inside the booth.Lloyd looked up to see the man stumble for a moment, blood pouring from his chest where a crossbow bolt had struck it, before collapsing. The bazaar had gone crazy, the woman’s scream spreading to other patrons as pandemonium exploded throughout the crowd. Lloyd stayed low, peering through the chaos for the sniper. Across from him, atop a building, a leather garbed figure was loading another bolt, and looking right at him. So, that was meant for me. The archer then shouted something, signaling towards the center of the square. City militia flooded into the square from the road beside the archer, against the surge of fleeing civilians, working their way toward Lloyd like salmon heading upstream. Shit. Ducking under the tent for momentary cover, he rolled the merchant over, a bulging coin pouch at his side. Ignoring it, Lloyd checked his gear: a wide bladed falchion on his back, a hand crossbow hanging from a belt loop, and a boot dagger.Yup, I’m screwed. Lloyd glanced out from under the table; the guard was nearing him fast. Shit, shit. Think damn it! He looked at the merchant again, and at the multitude of baskets and boxes of goods around him. His mind entered survival mode, scanning each item around him. Baskets, fruit, buckets, rope, torches, trinkets, clothes, gunpowder, and wire thin smile ran across his face.

Guardsmen surrounded the tent, drawing steel. “Drop your weapons and come out slowly!”They waited for a second, before one repeated the command - still no response. Looking to one another, they approached cautiously; this target was highly dangerous. Moments later the fire from the torch hit the gunpowder trail, which burned fast, running into the stacked pile of powder barrels and crates of fruit. An explosion of watermelon, baskets, and other debris rained down upon the guards. The closer ones were knocked back into nearby stands; the ones further away were pelted with fruit, raising their shields in response. Lloyd had skid through the dirt, pushed back by the force of the blast; having successfully covered himself with the merchant’s now charred body. He pushed the smoking fellow to a side, standing up and dusting himself off.The guards had gotten their bearings, and had spotted him. “After him!” Lloyd tumbled over the merchant, relieving him of the money pouch, Hope you don’t mind, friend. He slid under a table and darted between booths as he headed out of the bazaar. He ran up stone stairs which took him out of the square and caught his breath. The guardsmen were right on his tail, almost free from the maze of shops. Shit, he thought again, slipping the merchant’s money pouch into his boot. From the top of the stairs he had a good view of the adjoining buildings and alleyways. He sprinted towards a nearby low roof, crossbow bolts whizzing past him. His legs strained as he jumped, misjudging the distance. Lloyd extended his fingers mid flight, stretching for something to grab. They slipped along the roof’s tiling, dropping down to the gutter and finding purchase.His pursuers had made it to the top of the stairs, a few of them running towards him, the others loading their crossbows. Pull! Forcing his muscles beyond the brink, he wrenched himself over the gutter, onto the roof. Crossbow bolts clattered as they broke the clay tiles around Lloyd. He ran up and down the roof, building speed and jumping to the next building. The guards were in the alleys now; following on foot, taking pot shots occasionally. He was approaching a story taller building, with waist high shuttered windows. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea, bad-

Lloyd crashed through the wooden shutters, landing on a table that splintered upon impact. The family in the room had been having lunch it seemed, and were not pleased with this uninvited guest. The women were shouting in a language he didn’t understand, and the man had gone into a side room, probably to retrieve a weapon. Shaking his head, Lloyd stood up as quick as he could, stumbling a step before moving coherently again. The man returned with a walking cane, whacking Lloyd several times while shooing him out. Lloyd fled into the hallway, which had a stairway at one end and a window at the other. He started towards the stairs as the guards entered the first floor, their clanking armor alerting him of their presence. Shit. The doors to the other rooms were locked, and the guards were only a floor or two down. Lloyd ran over to the window, opened it, and looked down – a five story drop. There was a pencil thin ledge just outside that ran along the side of the building. Making haste, he slipped through the window, stepping cautiously along the ledge. Swinging quickly to the alley side of the building, Lloyd looked down. Across the narrow passage was another building, and a few feet down: a balcony.Placing his feet against the wall, he pushed off. He fell square onto the wooden balcony, which, unable to support his falling weight, gave way; breaking through the subsequent balconies below.At the end of his plummet, crates of trash cushioned his fall, as he smashed to the alley floor, rolling off the pile of waste and wincing in pain. He scrambled to get to his feet and leaned against the opposing wall, bloodied and breathing heavily.

The alley floor was wet with runoff and human waste, thrown down from the windows of the neighboring buildings and as he looked around, in the muck at his feet was a crumpled piece of paper that seemed more recent than the others. Taking a break from the chase, Lloyd unfolded it and read it.

WANTED FOR MURDER

Description: Male, Age 17-25, Height: 6 ft. to 6 ½ ft. Slender build, black hair.

Distinguishing Marks: Scarred pattern on upper left arm

CAUTION: This criminal is considered to be armed and highly dangerous, approach with care

Underneath the writing was a crude sketch of a man that matched the description, carrying a sword and looked suspiciously like Lloyd. Shit. He had been framed. That was why they had been after him.