• Solo • Ambush

[Rokas]

Ashan 30th Arc 721

Earth weighed down cool and heavy yet gentle, holding Rokas within a lovers’ embrace from all sides at once. Resting on him and being rested on by him. Clasping his hand in its own just like its body wrapped around his. Soft like satin, a reassuring pressure that put him at ease, the element’s consciousness radiating from all around. The top layer of dirt warmed by the suns, the temperature slowly spreading through the layers, mingling with the damp cold of the earth, and caressing him.

Rokas took a deep, contented breath. Earth’s aroma streamed in. There was no hurry in that breath, no hint of fear or trepidation. No desperation. The air sucked in was crisp and rich, not stale and scarce from being trapped underground. It didn’t get forced out of his lungs by Earth crushing his ribcage, nor did the element block his airways. Instead earth covered him like a weighty blanket. It was a safe and secure den he could curl up in like a badger or fox. Snug, not claustrophobic. Surrounded by the element on all sides, protected by its vast and ancient body.

Though there was only a few centimeters worth of dirt between himself and the sky, it blocked out most of his senses. All he could smell and taste was the earth itself. Mulched compost and minerals and infertile sediment. Decomposing matter and sprouting seeds and filtered rain. A tinge acidic. Exhausted city soil unwilling to sustain demanding flora, preferring to grow easy-to-please weeds and grasses instead.

He saw nothing but black, eyes closed, lids carrying soil that blocked the light. Some dirt had crept into his ears too, preventing some noises from being heard. The sounds that did reach were muffled –soft and with fuzzy edges. Voices snapping words back and forth. Despite how they arrived, the words were hard and sharp when produced, full of frustration and confusion and blame. Twittering of nearby songbirds, shrill melodies near unaltered by the layer of earth that dulled his senses.

Slow and without hurry time passed, meandering about to take in all the sights the world had to offer, while Rokas lied beneath the earth, waiting and listening and feeling and breathing.

[Rokas]

Whenever he left the hideout –it didn’t matter which one, Etzos had abandoned buildings aplenty, so they were honestly interchangeable-- and went into the city to fetch supplies, he never was alone for long. Always, at one point or another, the elements picked up on people defying the chaos on the streets. Walking the same route as Rokas too long for it to be a coincidence. Lone figures waiting around corners along the path he’d taken, or parallel to it, always appearing a set distance away.

After last time he’d have thought they had learned to cut it out, that the message had come across loud and clear. Not so, apparently, for a suspicious presence once again made itself known within his periphery. Grating against the back of his mind, an uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck, like frigid fingers tracing lines down his spine.

He’d gone easy on them last time, as to not cause a ruckus that might reach the wrong ears. To not provide the breeding ground for grudges to sprout and flourish. Any other time he could care less about that sort of thing. The self-proclaimed ‘new lords of the South’ did not yet possess the power and size their predecessor had, and their constant clashes to expand and defend their own turf made them but a small threat to anyone but each other.

But even Rokas knew it foolish to needlessly antagonize the various established powers in Etzos. Be they the Tower, the Blackjacks, or Vuda and his mages. Or the Finders Keepers, the Fence, Vorund, the Prince of Eternal Mercies –well, those last two could be crossed off the list. In the past, definitely, but now dozens of newer, smaller gangs filled the vacuum they’d left, growling and snapping viciously at anything and everything, like tiny dogs filled with nothing but hatred and anger. But still, no use in messing with them without cause either.

Just like one didn’t mess with the free-lancers, the singular entities navigating the underworld or the gray area between it and the law. The likes of the Raggedy Man, the impartial surgeon Lawrence Langhedoque, the mage hunter Sima Gupta, maverick blackjack Fiona O’Connor, Padfoot, and perhaps even Rokas himself.

However, it seemed the ‘new lords’ in their desperate attempt to hold on to the few brittle strands of power they now possessed, had forgotten about that common courtesy. Last time he’d sent a polite warning, a gentle reminder. If they refused to heed it, he would nudge them again, but without all the pleasantries.

Enough was enough.

[Rokas]

He couldn’t hear footsteps or the flapping of cloaks in the wind, nor the metallic clanking of buckles, the gentle rapping of fingernails on bronze pommel, nor the rubbing of fabric over leather. But all those things happened, and he knew they did. Sensed they did.

As his own ability to perceive was impaired, earth and air lent him theirs, allowing him to meld with it, becoming one. Own consciousness linking with the elements’, seeping into every crumb of sand and clump of loam and slab of rock. Into every puff of air, every swoosh and gust and breeze. Focused more than ever with the distractions of his body sealed away. More aware, more attentive. Perception sharpened beyond its normal limits.

Earth mumbled encouragement, wind whispered words of support. The both of them urging him to reach out, to try out their shared senses. So he did.

Concentrating, Rokas let his consciousness drift through the soil, up the brick walls lining the small courtyard. Flitting over cracks and tears in the baked clay, swimming through crumbling mortar, surfacing in the smooth rooftiles, and diving down again. Felt the shifting of weight, the touchdown of the feet of moving bodies as if they stepped across his very own skin.

Then he retreated and became the wind, bending long blades of grass and ruffling the petals of dandelions and fluffing feathers of perched birds. Noticing the rippling of sound through the air like waves created by a pebble dropped in a pond. Ambient noise coming from blocks away, rumbling carts digging tracks in dirt roads, rusted hinges squeaking as doors opened and closed. Gossip too faint to make out, reduced to unintelligible babbling. All tiny splashes compared to the voices within the courtyard itself, hissing words through teeth, seemingly unable to decide if they should yell or whisper.

“I told you he’s fuckin’ gone! Dude straight up vanished!”

“Just admit he gave you the slip when you weren’t paying attention, and you don’t know where he went. No need to pretend and make up stories, it’ll only lose us time.” The second’s voice seemed a close copy of the first, albeit with a little more bass. It came from up high, drifting down to his companion like a leaf in Ymiden.

“I’m not lying! I’m telling you he headed in here! Stepped through that doorway, I saw him do so with my own two eyes! And by the time I rounded the corner he was gone!”

Rokas floated towards them on the wind, swirling around them. First one, then the other, filling the hood of a billowing cloak, plucking at the long end of a leather belt. Two people dressed in similar garb. Utilitarian, all fabrics like wool or cotton. Not an uncommon attire in these parts, especially when Zi’da had only just passed. However, there were discrepancies when compared to the clothes of ordinary city-folk. Yes, what they wore was cheap and light, but underneath it was fortified with boiled leather where the cloaks obscured, protecting chest and back. Buckles chimed as their parts clattered against each other – too much noise to be coming from a single belt meant to keep their pants from falling to their ankles. Wood-in-leather scabbards slapped their thigh as they moved, these too hidden by the rough-spun mantles.

“Yet, as far as I know people don’t just vanish into thin air.”

“People don’t normally survive a tumble in the Southwood with a millstone tied to their ankles either, but here we are,” the first man shot back.

The second hummed a drawn-out note, less intentionally musical and more of a sigh. “We should have offed the fucker when we had the chance,” he agreed. “But that’s in the past. What matters now is that you let him get away.”

“Like. I. said,” the first repeated, “He went in here! No-where else for him to go. Unless he went up the rooftops, in which case--”

“I’d have spotted him.” The second nodded, hood catching and releasing air. “Let’s suppose you’re not bullshitting--”

“I’m not! How many times do I have to tell you? I saw him walk in here!”

As Rokas’s awareness flowed back in the earth, the man up high moved, grabbing hold of ledges and cracks for support, he clambered back to ground level, letting go and dropping down the last few feet. He landed with practiced ease, knees bent, and waved a hand in dismissal. “Let’s suppose you’re not bullshitting me.” He paused a moment as if to dare the other to interrupt again. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “So, he walked into this courtyard, didn’t climb the walls. What options does he have?” He jabbed two fingers in the air. “Hide, or leave.” Another pause, and his steps moved to the side of the court, toward one of the three abandoned buildings that boxed the area in. Each had a backdoor that led into it. The man pointed at each in turn, heading for the nearest. “Have you checked those doors?”

A snort from the first. “Of course I checked those doors! Who do you think I am? That was the first thing I did. They’re all locked.” He crouched in the middle of the courtyard, prodding at a clump of earth. One of many there, big and small, lying on a patch of loose dirt free of the grass and weeds overgrowing the rest of the area. It looked to be recently upturned. He waddled to the edge of the bare spot, feeling the soil underneath the grass, frowning. It was different, hard and compact.

“Right,” the second spoke, turning back towards his companion, “then he’s still here somewhere, hiding. Which means he’s either hoping to shake us, or…” He sucked in a sharp breath, long and slow. The other mimicked the noise a fraction of a second later, finishing almost simultaneously.

“Ah,” they breathed in unison, coming to the exact same conclusion. “Ambush.”

As one they reached for their weapons, though only the man near the edge of the courtyard managed to draw it before the earth erupted.

Continued