Jate shot him a withering look, which was somewhat lessened by the fact that there was little light to see it by. "They are sleeping, for your information," he whispered back. "Though I don't know how long it will last, so if you two ever decided to leave this cell we might want to get going."

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going on a journey through my old claims

The Phantom brushed past Eledhe, not bothering to answer Jate's suggestion. "I want my sword," he said, in something less than a whisper, and proceeded to barrel down the corridor until Eledhe, following, raised her voice enough to make him hear her.

"It's the other way!"

He made an abrupt about-face and almost smacked into her. Glares on both sides.

Their contest of wills was interrupted by a sudden flurry of heavy footsteps downstairs. The Phantom uttered an oath. "Not asleep enough!" he said.

Their stumbling progress down the narrow stairs was punctuated by yells. The Phantom cursed again. "Get out your magic rock, you're going to need it!"

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Kjan hurried down the stairs, following closely behind the Phantom and Eledhe. Footsteps downstairs. Someone had been missed already. Don't sound the alarm, don't sound the-

Beyond the thick stone walls of the prison, a bell started clanging.

Kjan swore under his breath. "Zero minutes," he revised, belatedly remembering the iron shackles still lying on the floor of their cell. Not his weapon of choice, but still substantially heavier and more solid than anything else on his person at the present. Too late to go get them now, though.

They came to an abrupt halt at the second level, pausing briefly to regroup. "I think a new plan is in order," Kjan commented as his gaze swept the corridor for anything remotely useful in combat. "Preferably soon. I don't suppose anyone's seen our weapons lying around? I feel much more comfortable facing a horde of soldiers if I have something sharp in my hand."

Eledhe stabbed a finger toward the bottom floor. "Lying around down there in a locked armory for which we lack the key."

The noise in the stairwell - metal clanging against itself, and some muffled shouts - was growing louder. The Phantom realized he had seconds to come up with a plan. Seconds, no weapons, a horde of soldiers, and quite possibly a failed prison break.

He felt the familiar heady rush of a madcap plan.

The disadvantage of having only his own two hands was nothing. The Phantom stuck his head down the stairwell and howled, "Phantom Grey's gettin' away!" and then proceeded to shove his company back up the stairs to the third floor, crouch in the dimness, and hold a warning finger to his lips. "The moment they hightail it up here, we jump 'em," he hissed, flexing his fingers.

The noise grew louder. Footsteps pounded on the stairs. The Phantom dropped into a crouch.

"Ready...three...two...one!"

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Dante Salone hesitated just a moment before pushing his way into the fray developing around him. With a kind of detached interest, he wondered <i>what</i> exactly was that absurd piece of equipment that Kjan was waving aloft, and skirted Jate rather apprehensively - he still didn't entirely trust the boy with that freakish magical whatever-it-was.

The long, humiliating trek to the prison, coupled with the emotional stress of seeing so many lives lost, and then the uncomfortable wait in a reeking cell had taken it's toll. Dante felt as if someone had been shaking him upside down for too long. He wasn't feeling exactly sane; finding himself almost <i>eager</i> to let out said lack of sanity on the hapless guards.

Throwing his weight against a guard who had begun to corner Ash, he grunted with surprise when the younger man whirled around at him and hit him hard in the jaw. Dante's head snapped back, he felt his lip bleeding, and somehow managed to recollect his wits just in time to dodge a second blow. Under his breath he cursed, and relaunched himself back at the young guard, hitting recklessly and in angry confusion. Taken aback by such an irregular display of fists, the man stepped back, blocking the blows as best as he was able.

"This was brilliant!" he managed to spit jumping back just as the guard drew his sword. "Considering they have things to <i>stab us with!</i>"

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Kjan, being none too interested in charging unarmed into a mass of soldiers, instead darted back toward the now-empty cell and retrieved his discarded manacles. Still not ideal, but he was nothing if not resourceful. Whirling around, he registered the presence of a quickly advancing soldier just in time to jump out of the way. Before the man could fully recover his balance, Kjan shoved him the rest of the way into the cell and hastily slammed the door. Poetic justice could be amusing.

Swinging the shackles by their chain, he rushed toward one of the soldiers closing in on the Phantom. Iron cuff met steel helment with an impressive clang, stunning the man long enough for Kjan to get a grip on the hilt of his sword. A brief struggle ensued, ended when Kjan managed to twist his leg around his opponent's and force the man to the ground.

Kjan quickly judged the feel of his newly-acquired weapon. Longer than he was accustomed to, not quite balanced for one of his stature, but decidedly better than a pair of irons. Reasonably satisfied, he plunged back into the battle.

It didn't take long for him to recall precisely why he hated fighting with only one blade. He felt horribly limited, only being able to parry or attack, rather than both simultaneously. His style was based on speed and flexibility, not brute strength. Being forced to rely mostly on the latter was quickly taking its toll. A few more minutes of this, and he's be doing well to parry.

Of course, in a few minutes, it might not matter what sort of shape they were all in. The alarm bell was still clanging loudly. Very soon, every soldier in Y'rydha would be swarming this place, and then there would be absolutely no chance of escape, Heartshard or no. As the fighting drove him closer to the Phantom, he sought to comment on this point.

"Please tell me that your plan extends beyond this."

Eledhe recalled exactly what she disliked about this.

It was in the moment that the Phantom rushed headlong into the oncoming soldiers that she had a flash of something resembling her old common sense.

This was idiocy.

The bells clanging outside might as well have been clanging within her skull, so insistent were they. They tolled an urgent message - the whole place would be swarming with militia in minutes. Those bells had to be silenced.

Diving past the mayhem, Eledhe half-tumbled down the last set of stairs and raced headlong along the passage that followed, pausing once to run an unfortunate lieutenant through. He slumped behind her without making a sound.

A shuriken was already in her fingers when she wheeled into the courtyard to where a man was frantically hauling on the prison's twin bells. He dropped with an unpleasant gargling noise when it thunked into his throat. Eledhe grimaced. That was messy.

---

The Phantom heard the bells cease and heaved a sigh of relief, simultaneously with yet another lunge at an oncoming soldier. Now if only they could quiet the conflict, make it look as though all was a false alarm. The Phantom did not lack self-confidence, but even he quailed at facing the entire force contained in Y'rydha.

He stepped forward, rammed the broken piece of spear into a man's head - watching as the guard's eyes rolled back and he dropped, gifted with a lovely bruise to the head when he woke - and dashed down the stairs, collecting paraphernalia as he went. Purple cloak - helmet - gold bars denoting a captain - a few bits of hastily donned armor -

He was never quite sure if he put them all on properly in his headlong rush, but the Phantom pelted into the courtyard of the jail hoping he passed as a disheveled sentry. Someone was pounding on the gates and yelling to be let in. Behind that someone were many other someones, all holding sharp and shiny objects.

He'd prefer they stayed outside.

The Phantom assumed what he hoped was a soldier-like air, and prepared to do some acting.

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For the sake of his own deteriorating sanity, Kjan chose to assume that running away in the middle of the fight was an affirmative answer to his query. He didn't have much time to contemplate it anyway, as there were still quite a few opponents standing. Borrowed sword still in his grasp, he quickly took stock of the situation. Phantom, gone. Eledhe, gone, but hopefully returning in the near future. Everyone else seemed to be doing reasonably well, though the soldier-to-rebel ratio was still larger than Kjan would have liked. Maybe Jate could actually do something useful with that shiny rock of his....

Distracted as he was, he didn't register the approach of his weapon's prior owner until he found himself knocked to the ground by a man of rather impressive stature. Vision reeling from the rather sharp collision of the stone floor and his own skull, Kjan struggled to simultaneously recover the sword, regain his footing, and evade any imminent attacks. His hand fell on the Phantom's discarded spear shaft, and he quickly jabbed it upwards to fend off a would-be attacker. Another quick strike to the head incapacitated the man sufficiently for Kjan to move on. They didn't have time to be particular about the lethality of attacks.

Unexpectedly, a dense fog started to fill the corridor. Kjan looked confusedly over at Jate, but the younger man didn't seem to be doing anything more than fighting for his life. The unmistakable sound of shurikens slicing through first air and then flesh confirmed that this particular bit of magic had had a different source. He always had liked having a homicidal, magic-wielding mercenary on hand.

When the fog dissipated, the only soldiers in sight were dead or unconscious. Kjan nodded his thanks to Eledhe, then quickly got moving. "Might be a good idea to borrow some weapons," he said, filching one guard's dagger as an example. "Hide the rest. Fifteen fewer armed guards that we'll have to face later. Eledhe, did you happen to see the Phantom on your way up? He's doing it again."

Ash wasn’t quite sure what had happened. One minute he was frantically using a snatched sword to try to fend off attacks as a soldier drove him up against the wall. The next minute, the man collapsed with a small choking sound. Squinting through the thick fog that had inexplicably appeared, Ash bent over the man, spotting a small, sharp piece of metal embedded in his throat. So that was what had happened.

He took a couple of daggers from soldiers’ bodies, much preferring them to the unfamiliar feel of the sword. Doing a quick check, he was glad to find that he was relatively unharmed, apart from a few more cuts and bruises he could add to his collection. He rejoined Kjan and glanced around. “We’re alive- that’s good to see.”

Jate prayed to whatever might be listening as he fought for dear life. The guards had come quickly - a lot of them. Afraid to use the Heartshard and virtually weaponless, Jate figured it was sheer dumb luck that saved him from having a split skull. Not that he was unharmed. He gingerly reached up to touch his jaw, and his hand came away wet with blood. There was no time to think on it though, as another guard came up to him. Jate has just enough time to block a punch before he noticed a strange fog filling the corridor. Both taken by surprise, Jate managed to recover and give the man a blow that laid him to the ground. Panting heavily, he waited as the fog began clearing.

So, the Phantom had disappeared, they had fifteen unconscious guards on hand, and the whole town might be waiting for them to emerge. Lovely. Unfortunately, the guards were short on daggers, the available ones having been confiscated already. They seemed to be more the swordsman type. Thankful that he had taken the one from the guardroom earlier, Jate found a short spear amid the weaponry and hefted it. It had a good weight, better than the heavy swords. Now prepared, he hobbled over toward Kjan. His side was going to take some time to heal. "So...stick the guards in the cell?"

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going on a journey through my old claims

"Go ahead. They'll most likely be let out shortly after we've gone, and they all have keys on their persons, I'm sure. Don't let that stop you." With this caustic remark in place of Kjan's answer, Eledhe began moving about the fallen soldiers and collecting her shurikens. The sarcasm did not cease to drip from her voice. "Your fearless leader has garbed himself in some metal and is attempting to forestall the entry of military reinforcements."

---

The Phantom had never impersonated a guard before - a surprise even to him. He considered himself a fairly well-rounded individual in the areas of illegal escapades. Nevertheless, he ahemed and slouched a bit and tried to disguise his clearly noble-inherited diction before strolling into view of the gate.

The man at the head of his small column of reinforcements was nearly purple in the face from shouting. The Phantom leaned against a gate-post. "Need help with summat, General?"

"It's Officer," he barked, going from violet to mere crimson. "Open this gate."

Oops. Should have noticed the cloak insignia. The Phantom blinked. "Why, nothing's the problem, sir."

This time he received a long look out of narrowed eyes. "I am required to discover the reason for your alarm. Open the gate."

Last shot. The Phantom shrugged. "Sorry, sir, I haven't got any keys."

"Then you should report to your officer and get some! Blast it all, OPEN THIS GATE!" His bellow echoed alarmingly and the Phantom cringed inwardly.

"All right, sir," he said, hoping to stop the shouting. His helmet was making sweat drip into his eyes. "Uh - keys. Right away."

"Aye! And see that you do!"

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"That would be me, Officer," someone called from across the courtyard.

"Caedon. You've got five seconds to get over here and start explaining. Five. Four..."

Lieutenant Caedon was at the gate in three. "My sincerest apologies, sir. As you're no doubt aware, the Regent's ordered that we have every available man on duty tonight, including the new recruits. That's all well and good, but if you ask me, we scraped the bottom of the barrel with this latest lot." He not-so-subtly jerked his head in the direction of the Phantom. "Case in point. One of them thought he heard something in the stairwell and immediately sounded the alarm without checking."

"And?"

"And while we've got a substantial infestation of rats, sir, you have my word that there are no escaping rebels up there. I checked their cells personally. It was a false alarm."

The officer nodded but didn't move from where he was. "You'd best let us check things over anyway, as a safeguard. No chances taken tonight."

"Of course, sir." Lieutenant Caedon made to retrieve the keys from his belt, only to pause with a muttered oath. "Curse it. My gate key's up the guardroom still, sir. You. Run up there and get it - quickly, now! We can't just leave the rest of the area unguarded while you take your precious time, boy."

A noise of exasperation was heard on the other side of the gate. "Forget it, Caedon. We're wasting time. The prison's secure enough - I'm concerned more with threats outside than in. Just see to that there's no more alarms, false or not. One more sound out of this prison, and it'll be on your head."

"Understood, sir," the lieutenant replied with a sharp salute.

"Dismissed."

Caedon waited until the reinforcements began to depart then turned on the Phantom. "Vambraces are on the wrong arms," he said shortly as he escorted the rebel leader back into the prison. "In the future, let a soldier handle military matters. You'd best get your men out of here quickly and do whatever it is that you plan on doing, before he changes his mind. Not to add any pressure, but if you fail, I'll be standing right next to you on the gallows. I'd like to avoid that if possible."

The helmet the Phantom was wearing - and sweating in - was useful for many things, but it did not conceal his slack jaw. He was still blinking away his shock when the lieutenant finished speaking. "Wait - what - just one bloody moment -" he stopped in mid-step and stared at Caedon's back. "My - men? - I'm Phantom Grey! You know I'm Phantom Grey, right?"

He whipped off the helmet and shed his vambraces - shoddy, those things, how was one supposed to be able to distinguish between left and right? It wasn't his fault. He left them in a pile along with the cloak and hastened after Caedon. "I don't believe it. Someone's waiting around a corner." Swiveling, he squinted around him. "You mean - you're not going to let us just -?"

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"Our helmets are not that concealing," Caedon replied dryly. "Anyone who's heard you speak before would have been able to quickly figure it out. Give me some credit for intelligence."

He maintained a brisk pace as they continued down the corridor. "I'm not proud of some of the things I've done, Phantom Grey," he said, voice faintly strained. "Any man of war would say the same. But I like to think of myself as a man of morals as well, and what happened outside the city was... unacceptable. I've been in the service for twenty years - I know the difference between strategy and spite."

They paused at the bottom of the staircase. "This key will get you into the room where your weapons are stored, should you desire them. If you exit through the storage room, you should make it a reasonable distance before you are noticed. Get moving, before someone else wakes up."

No longer battling with incredulity, the Phantom stopped and looked at his unlikely rescuer. The dimness of the hallway made his study the lieutenant perhaps a moment longer than was necessary. "Thank you," he said. "The tide is turning, Lieutenant Caedon."

He didn't wait for a reply. Every moment he lingered was a moment the seconds ticked down.

He cast the bodies littering the floor, their limbs splayed limply, the barest of glances. It wasn't enough to make up for the ones on the hills outside Y'rydha. The last vestiges of smoke were clearing from the air. "We're clear. Let's go."

With the cease of weapons clanging and alarm bells ringing came an unnatural quiet. Locks fell before Eledhe's fingers - while the Phantom buckled his sword belt - and after silent progress through dim, shadowed courtyard, the back streets of Y'rydha were theirs.

Moonlight made strange square shadows on the cobblestones. The Phantom paused in one hulking outline and fingered the hilt of his sword, gaze darting between the few of them. So few to topple a monarch. He motioned them closer and tugged a map from the pocket of his jerkin - a bedraggled scrap of parchment. "We all know the palace. Keep an eye out for sentries and soldiers on the streets, they're not blind. They see more than you'd think. Jate. This tunnel?"

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Jate looked at the map, trying to recall Silvryn's exact instructions. That hall to there, and then that tunnel to that door...."A little bit further on," he replied. "That one, there." Tracing his finger along the path they needed to take, Jate sent up a quick prayer to whatever might be listening that it would work.

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going on a journey through my old claims