side. She stopped in a squat position just off the
previously overturned officer currently struggling awkwardly on all
fours. Still looking at Breiig she landed a straight left to the
side of the head of the getting up soldier. Again he fell down on a
wooden floor as if cut down. At the same time, the desk came
crashing upside down right next to them, and Breiig walked toward
the girl setting up for a kick not worse than that presented by
herself. He did not make it.
Sparks threw
herself at him with a wild shriek. Her voice took on the highest
possible pitch and broke into the spy’s ears with a metallic
reverberation. Icy needles ran up his spine crystallizing muscles
and pouring lead in his joints. Breiig was completely paralysed
before the weight of the girl's body fell on him. She charged him
shoulder first and toppled, falling along beside him. His face was
contorted by a resident terrifying grimace of pain fixed in sudden
paralysis. His skin was marked with numerous, smaller and larger
haematomas. The aurician sat astride him and frantically pummelled
his face, until she realized the futility of her efforts. Breiig
was dead. His heart could not withstand the auric shock wave.
The stillness
after the fight calmed her emotions. The agent stood up and putting
her hands on her hips she spat at her feet. Her spit landed near
the Breiig’s head, whose dead eyes seemed to be staring at her with
stubborn attention. On one hand, everything was fine, as Sparks was
still standing and her opponents were not. On the other one, the
mission did not go well at all. The resident, whom she was to
extract, was dead, and she did not know really why she had killed
him. Apparently it was obvious at first sight, but cold analysis of
the situation awoke unexpected doubts in her. Was Breiig a traitor?
Circumstantial evidence indicated that, yes, but there was no hard
evidence whatsoever. Did he want to kill her? Apparently so, but
evidently she had attacked first.
There was no
time for senseless considerations. She walked over to the
unconscious man lying near the door. Judging by the uniform he was
the chief guard. She wondered briefly if there was time to
interrogate the witness. The screams on the courtyard proved that
this was not the case. Apparently her little auric show could be
heard outside the guard building and understandably aroused
curiosity. Especially among the guards patrolling the
neighbourhood. The agent, without losing a beat, grabbed the
unconscious officer under the armpits and dragged him to the
window, from which she then threw him out. She hoped that the
defenestration would stop even the most curious for at least a few
moments.
Herself, she
ran along the little corridor and without thinking much she yanked
the wall lantern out of its holder. With a flick she lit the wick
and threw the flaming projectile under the askew desk. Another
encountered lamp was thrown into the guards’ locker room. When she
jumped off the last flight of stairs, the top floor of the building
was already burning with a merrily roaring fire. At the door she
almost collided with the soldiers running inside the building. She
turned on her heel and maintaining momentum she jumped through the
back window into the inner drill-and-exercise square. She landed
softly with a forward roll and without losing velocity got up to
run, as soon as her feet touched the ground. With grace she climbed
to the roof of the jail wing, and from there to the roof of the
adjacent building. Being already a good twenty-five feet above the
square, she turned to see the progress of the chase. Some guards
came out to the square and taking their weapons off their arms were
setting up to shoot her down, but a sergeant started running
between them and banging their heads with his hat was raising the
barrels of their guns. Iskandriel was a bit surprised, but a moment
later she realized that she was standing on a munitions' magazine
full of gunpowder barrels, and the
previously overturned officer currently struggling awkwardly on all
fours. Still looking at Breiig she landed a straight left to the
side of the head of the getting up soldier. Again he fell down on a
wooden floor as if cut down. At the same time, the desk came
crashing upside down right next to them, and Breiig walked toward
the girl setting up for a kick not worse than that presented by
herself. He did not make it.
Sparks threw
herself at him with a wild shriek. Her voice took on the highest
possible pitch and broke into the spy’s ears with a metallic
reverberation. Icy needles ran up his spine crystallizing muscles
and pouring lead in his joints. Breiig was completely paralysed
before the weight of the girl's body fell on him. She charged him
shoulder first and toppled, falling along beside him. His face was
contorted by a resident terrifying grimace of pain fixed in sudden
paralysis. His skin was marked with numerous, smaller and larger
haematomas. The aurician sat astride him and frantically pummelled
his face, until she realized the futility of her efforts. Breiig
was dead. His heart could not withstand the auric shock wave.
The stillness
after the fight calmed her emotions. The agent stood up and putting
her hands on her hips she spat at her feet. Her spit landed near
the Breiig’s head, whose dead eyes seemed to be staring at her with
stubborn attention. On one hand, everything was fine, as Sparks was
still standing and her opponents were not. On the other one, the
mission did not go well at all. The resident, whom she was to
extract, was dead, and she did not know really why she had killed
him. Apparently it was obvious at first sight, but cold analysis of
the situation awoke unexpected doubts in her. Was Breiig a traitor?
Circumstantial evidence indicated that, yes, but there was no hard
evidence whatsoever. Did he want to kill her? Apparently so, but
evidently she had attacked first.
There was no
time for senseless considerations. She walked over to the
unconscious man lying near the door. Judging by the uniform he was
the chief guard. She wondered briefly if there was time to
interrogate the witness. The screams on the courtyard proved that
this was not the case. Apparently her little auric show could be
heard outside the guard building and understandably aroused
curiosity. Especially among the guards patrolling the
neighbourhood. The agent, without losing a beat, grabbed the
unconscious officer under the armpits and dragged him to the
window, from which she then threw him out. She hoped that the
defenestration would stop even the most curious for at least a few
moments.
Herself, she
ran along the little corridor and without thinking much she yanked
the wall lantern out of its holder. With a flick she lit the wick
and threw the flaming projectile under the askew desk. Another
encountered lamp was thrown into the guards’ locker room. When she
jumped off the last flight of stairs, the top floor of the building
was already burning with a merrily roaring fire. At the door she
almost collided with the soldiers running inside the building. She
turned on her heel and maintaining momentum she jumped through the
back window into the inner drill-and-exercise square. She landed
softly with a forward roll and without losing velocity got up to
run, as soon as her feet touched the ground. With grace she climbed
to the roof of the jail wing, and from there to the roof of the
adjacent building. Being already a good twenty-five feet above the
square, she turned to see the progress of the chase. Some guards
came out to the square and taking their weapons off their arms were
setting up to shoot her down, but a sergeant started running
between them and banging their heads with his hat was raising the
barrels of their guns. Iskandriel was a bit surprised, but a moment
later she realized that she was standing on a munitions' magazine
full of gunpowder barrels, and the
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