Chapter 4 - The Escape
The promise of a thousand gold pieces shattered the guards' hesitation. Over fifty heavily armored royal guardsmen, brandishing spears, broadswords, and crossbows, surged toward the platform from all sides of the arena floor.
"William, behind me!" Brandon barked.
The ten-year-old boy didn't panic. He instantly dropped the heavy war bow, reached into his ragged tunic, and pulled out two small, round brass spheres. He slammed them against the stone floor at his feet.
BANG! BANG!
A blinding flash of white light erupted, followed instantly by a dense, thick cloud of black, choking smoke that expanded violently across the entire center of the arena.
The guards screamed, blinded and coughing violently as the smoke burned their eyes and lungs.
"I can't see! My eyes!" "Form a perimeter! Don't let them reach the gates!"
Through the thick, swirling smoke, Brandon moved with the lethal speed of a warrior half his age. His meteor-steel sword flashed in dark, rhythmic arcs. CLANG! SPARK! He didn't kill the guards; he struck the flat of his blade against their helmets and disarmed their spears, sending weapons flying into the air.
William, light on his feet, darted between the legs of the disoriented soldiers. He pulled a small iron hook attached to a thin, woven silk rope from his belt. With practiced ease, he swung the hook around his head and threw it upward.
The hook caught firmly onto the wooden frame of the royal gallery overhang.
"Grandfather! Now!" William shouted.
Brandon wrapped his hand around the rope, grabbed William around the waist with his other arm, and pulled with tremendous force. The two lifted into the air, flying straight out of the choking smoke cloud and landing effortlessly onto the secondary balcony where the startled nobles sat.
Dukes and duchesses screamed, falling back over their chairs in a chaotic heap of velvet and jewels.
"Stop them!" Adrian screamed from the arena floor, his face twisted in psychotic rage as he pointed up at the gallery. "Archers on the walls, shoot them down!"
A dozen royal crossbowmen perched along the high outer walls raised their weapons, aiming down at the balcony.
"Jump!" Brandon ordered.
Without a second thought, William leaped off the balcony edge, trusting his grandfather completely. Brandon jumped right beside him, extending his heavy wool cloak. The wind caught the thick fabric, slowing their descent just enough as they plummeted forty feet down toward the outer perimeter alleyway.
They hit the wooden roof of a merchant's wagon, crashing through the canvas cover and landing inside a pile of soft hay.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A rain of iron-tipped crossbow bolts slammed into the wooden wagon mere inches from where they lay.
"Up, lad! Move!" Brandon grunted, kicking open the back doors of the wagon.
They sprinted down the narrow, cobblestone alleyway of the Outer District. Behind them, the massive iron gates of the arena were thrown open, and the sound of armored cavalry hooves echoed against the stone walls.
"Cavalry! Spread out!" Captain Victor’s voice boomed from the arena entrance. "Block every exit from the city! No one leaves Aurelian alive!"
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William ran as fast as his small legs could carry him, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Where are we going, Grandfather? They've closed the main gates!"
"We aren't leaving the city, William," Brandon said, his eyes scanning the looming shadows of the city's lower slums. "We are going to the place Robert fears most. The Under-City."
