Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) Christopher Mitchell (classic reads .txt) 📖

of here. All I did was say that the city authorities were corrupt, which they are, and now I’m going to rot in prison. I have a wife and two young children; who will feed them now? They’ll be thrown out onto the streets with nothing.’

‘That seems a little unfair.’

‘Unfair? It’s a travesty, that’s what it is. The system here in Kinell is rotten; it needs torn down. Don’t you agree?’

Corthie shrugged.

‘I wonder why they thought you were a spy,’ the man said.

‘My accent, probably.’

‘It does sound strange. Where are you from?’

‘Not Kinell.’

The man laughed. ‘That’s obvious. You sound like you might be from Implacatus, that’s probably what did it. After the occupation by Banner soldier a few years back, there’s a lot of mistrust here. The government might do whatever Alea Tanton commands, but only begrudgingly.’ He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. ‘If you were from Implacatus, then maybe you could ask your friends there to overthrow the corrupt government here in Kinell. And I could help you; I have contacts.’

Corthie narrowed his eyes. ‘What kind of contacts?’

‘If you agree to help me, I might even be able to get you out of this prison.’

‘How?’

‘You need to give me something first. You help me; I help you.’

‘What do you want me to give you?’

‘Answers,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘If you are a spy from Implacatus, then I could assist you in many ways, starting with our escape from here.’

‘And if I’m not a spy?’

‘I don’t get it. If you’re not a spy, then why didn’t you just tell them where you’re from?’

‘How did you know I didn’t tell them that?’

The man paused.

‘Look, I understand that you’re only doing your job,’ said Corthie, ‘but you’re not going to get me to confess to something I didn’t do. If you’re done, then you can ask the guards to let you back out again.’

The man stared at him. ‘Just tell me where you’re from. If you truly aren’t spying for Implacatus, then what harm could it do?’

‘A lot. Now get out of here before I change my mind about not eating you.’

‘Is your secret worth twenty years in prison?’ he said, as he got to his feet. ‘Think about that.’ He walked to the door and banged on it. ‘I’ve finished in here.’ There was no response. ‘Hello? Guards?’

A key sounded in the lock and the door opened. Two militiamen pushed the man back into the room and entered. For a split second Corthie thought they were going to attack him, but then he glanced at their faces.

‘Let’s go,’ said Van. ‘Now.’

Corthie stood. ‘What about this guy?’

Naxor, also dressed in a militiaman’s uniform, stared at the other man for a moment, then drew a sword and drove it through his chest.

‘Was that necessary?’ said Corthie, watching as the man fell lifeless to the stone floor.

Naxor cleaned the blade on the man’s clothes. ‘Yes. He wasn’t a real prisoner; he was working for the city authorities.’

‘Aye, I’d already guessed that.’

‘Then you should know why we couldn’t have left him alive. His blood is on your hands, though, not mine. If you hadn’t been stupid enough to get arrested, then he’d still be alive.’

‘Stop arguing and move,’ said Van. ‘Corthie, put your hands behind your back and clasp your wrists together as if they were bound. Naxor and I are escorting you to a new location, as your guards. Understood?’

Corthie nodded and did as he was told, then Van peered out into the passageway. He motioned with his fingers, and they followed him out, leaving the man lying in a pool of blood on the stone floor of the cell. Naxor closed the door and locked it, then he and Van flanked Corthie and led him down the passageway. They passed another militiaman, but he was sitting slumped in a seat by a door, his eyes closed. They went through the door, where two more guards were sleeping, their bodies propped up on a long bench.

‘There’s a courtyard at the top of the stairs,’ whispered Van, ‘and Sohul has a wagon parked just beyond the gates. We may have to run when we get out into the open. Can you manage that?’

‘Sure,’ said Corthie.

They climbed the stairs, and Corthie recognised the street where he had been brought in that morning. The day had passed, and lamps were illuminating the front of the city jail. Several militiamen were standing around in groups, all armed. At first, no one paid them any attention as they began to stride across the courtyard, but an officer glanced at them as they approached the gates.

‘Halt,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’

Naxor smiled. ‘We’re just going to walk out of here, if that’s alright with you. If it’s not, then perhaps you should have a little nap.’

The officer’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed to the ground.

‘Someone call for a doctor!’ Naxor cried, as Van starting shoving Corthie towards the gate.

Corthie and Van ran for the gate. Two militiamen hurried to block them, and Corthie powered his battle-vision, feeling a surge of euphoria as it rippled through his body. He sidestepped a lunge from a sword, and punched the first guard in the face, sending him flying through the air. He grabbed the second, and threw him into the crowd of pursuing militiamen, then he, Van and Naxor raced through the gates. Sohul was sitting on the driver’s bench of a small covered wagon and the three men jumped up onto the back as the lieutenant urged the two horses harnessed to the front into action. The wagon moved off, gaining speed with every second, as Naxor leaned out of the back and sent the first row of pursuers to sleep, their comrades colliding with them as they fell to the cobbles.

Sohul manoeuvred the wagon to the left, and they joined a busy road, slowing as they entered the flow of traffic. He turned his head to glance into the back of