Karlus knew something was wrong as he pelted away from the dockside tavern and made his way north, deeper into the city. It wasn’t fading. The pulling in his skin and in his mind would not fade even as legs worked furiously to carry him from its influence. The burn of the erasure ward felt almost just as strong here at the end of the narrow alley as it had when he had entered it. No matter. There would be somewhere free of it. There must be somewhere free of it.
He jumped a pile of detritus and scanned the escape routes before him. The alley itself had been meagre pickings, buildings either full of people or tightly boarded shut. He thought he heard whispers behind the planked doorways slashed with painted red crosses. He thought he saw people watching him from narrow half shuttered windows above. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to disappear.
The alley opened onto a market square of sorts, a gap between the favelas and slums that grew behind the warehouses and sailor swarmed taverns had lined the quays. Just enough room to from the canals to snake in and to be able to see the sky again, the flutter of coloured flags on the breeze. The market itself made a poor sight, there were few open stalls, and no customers to speak of. More boarded up doors, more red crosses marking them. Still puddles of dirty water sitting over the cobbles.
The ward did not fade. In fact he could feel it now, from the other side of the square, the unmistakable pull of another erasure ward. Karlus realised with a small degree of horror that they must be littered across the entire city. Just what was going on Caracas? Where were the people? What had the League of Magi done?
“Signora,”Enough to stir him from his thoughts was a voice calling out from just beyond the alleyway. It was there that Karlus saw one of the guards from the tavern. The young soldier hesitantly made his way across a small bridge which hung to the left of the marketplace; marrying it to the docks the mage had only just escaped. Karlus could only just make out the shape of an elderly woman tending to a small stand that was propped up by crates, and adorned with torn fabrics. The guard approached her with a sort of cautious naivete not surprising for someone of his age and demeanor.
“Signora, sto cercando un magus, capelli chiari e bianchi. È un fuggitivo dalla legge.” The guard approached the woman as he finally dug up the courage to sheath his weapon.
“E? De se katalavaino,” the woman questioned in a sort of throaty drone.
“Apologies signora, do you speak the common tongue? I’m looking for a mage of modest size and stature. He is pale and light of hair. We believe him to be dangerous. He must be captured. Have you seen anyone of that description? He must be here somewhere." Karlus’s view of the conversation was somewhat obscured, but he could see the woman shoo the guard away.
“E? Írthate edó gia na agorásete káti í óchi,” she questioned again growing more impatient this time.
The guard has his back turned to him, Karlus saw his chance and he took it. He pulled his cloak tight around him and threw the hood up to hide his face as he emerged from the alley. Tacking left along the edge of the market square, Karlus made for the small bridge that the guard had crossed over, he hoped the guard would not double back to more thoroughly search the area that he had already passed through.
The guard still seemed too preoccupied in frustrated conversation with the vendor to notice Karlus. His back was turned towards the woman. However, the vendor could see the mage skulking in the distance. A quick glance away from her interrogator and towards Karlus was enough to make the guard turn his attention away.
“You! Stop,” he commanded shakily. He began to approach Karlus hurriedly though still visibly cautious.
His cover blown Karlus took flight again, tearing away from the guard as fast as his thin legs could carry him. He ran across the bridge and found himself before a series of shops and storefronts. He searched frantically for another escape route and came across one. Another alleyway wedged between two of the buildings. He slipped into it, glancing over his shoulder to see if the guard still pursued.
“I said stop,” the young guard warned again as he chased after Karlus. In the morning light the mage’s dark clothing did little to obscure him from sight. Having cornered him in the alleyway the guard closed the distance between the two.
“Enough of your tricks mage, you are under arrest. Do not resist again.” Karlus noticed a slight shaking in the guards hand as he held it out in some vain attempt to assuage the mage’s trepidation. Surprisingly the guard had yet to draw his weapon. Perhaps he sought to end things peaceably or perhaps his nerves got the better of him. Either way he approached Karlus.
To his back were walls, grime, and debris. No running this time. The hiss that called to Karlus somewhere from deep within was no longer there replaced only by a numb burning sensation. A sort of migraine. Whenever the voice made itself known it left the mage fatigued for a time. Still, he felt he had some power in him yet despite the weight of the erasure ward that hung around them.
“You’ve made a mistake. I’m not with the League, whatever they’ve done, I only arrived today. I have nothing to do with whatever else is going on here.” Karlus pleaded with the guard. It was probably too late, but it was better, better than just killing him.
“Just leave me alone. Walk away, please… I do not want to hurt you.”
Collaboration between @Famotill and @Kassarock
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