Part 3: The People’s Champion
Three days later, Ankit was back in his tower and looking north. He was so close, closer than he had ever been to leaving the city behind. Not so long ago, he had simply wanted out, a fresh start. Now, he had no choice. Staying would mean certain death at the hands of the Protectors, courtesy of the Baroness and her Blackboots. He had questioned whether it was safe to return to the tower. Somehow, Blackboot or not, he felt Zac would not be the one to betray him—he needed that.
To make matters more challenging, he’d had to part with most of his hard-earned Coin. Not all his friends were as generous as Nejja when taking in Uncle’s orphans. He would have to make do with what little he had left.
“Alright, I’m off. The watch is yours,” the loud voice of Officer Kaarin echoed up from below. She would walk down the road to the nearby beer hall, as she did after every shift. He could already hear it. People of Refuge dropping in after work to spend their wages, dance, and forget the day. Whenever someone opened the door, he heard the rhythmic beats and melodies of the wood drums, whistles, and pipes.
Ankit had been watching the Protectors at the gate over the past few days, taking in their movements and shift patterns and getting to know their habits. He needed to give himself the best possible chance of getting by unnoticed.
He watched Kaarin as she strolled past the temple, remembering what Zac had said about her. For the briefest moment, he imagined how that conversation would play out and could not convince himself that it was worth the risk.
She stopped abruptly, as if she’d forgotten something. Ankit watched with interest from the shadows. Her gaze was fixed on the temple entrance. He heard a scrape, and the groan of a door opening, echoing through the tower.
Someone had entered the temple.
Ankit stuck himself to the floor, crawling over to his bedroll and gear. He rolled his pack inside the bed and quickly tucked it away before sliding over to the broken hatch that gave access to the tower’s interior, and the staircase into the temple. He squeezed himself through the opening and dropped silently to the floor below. Holding still, he listened.
Whoever it was wasn’t trying to be quiet. Ankit made his way to the steep staircase and started to climb down, making sure not to make a sound. The noise below continued as if they were picking up pews and furniture and tossing them aside. His mind was racing. Was it just a random search? He couldn’t bear it. Had Zac given him up? No, he wouldn’t have. He reached the edge of the gallery and looked down. There was no one there.
A noise came from his right. He’d been distracted, and someone had reached the top of the stairs to the gallery. “Oi, you, what are you doing here?”
Ankit didn’t turn to face him. Instead, he spun around to make for the tower stairs. In his haste, he caught just enough of a glimpse to see the green of a Protector’s uniform. Not quick enough. As he reached the top of the first flight, he felt a firm grip close around his ankle.
Before he could react, he was hurtling backwards. First, he crashed through the gallery railing. There was nothing to grab hold of as he dropped to the temple floor. In the split seconds that flew by, he contemplated his options. There were none.
Somehow, impossibly, he landed on a pile of tapestries and soft furnishings. The wind was knocked out of him, and together with the cloud of dust that had erupted, he was left gasping for air. Instinct took control, rolling him over and bringing him to his feet. Still breathless, he reached for his club.
Ankit heard the man first—sooner than expected—approaching from behind. There was now no more room for mistakes. With his lungs finally filled with a deep gulp of air, he leapt towards the temple wall. He stepped sideways onto a handily placed bench that ramped him up towards a window sill. As he gained his footing, he turned and got his first good look at his opponent. The man lumbered towards Ankit. He was heavy set, with more weight around his waist than his chest or shoulders.
Vaulting off the sill, he flew over the fat Protector and struck him with a heavy blow to the head mid-flight. Tucking his legs, he rolled over in the air and landed as cleanly as he could manage. Spinning round once more, he saw the man staggering and trying to regain his footing. His hand reached for something on his belt.
A whistle. No, not good!
Ankit darted forwards and to the man’s right-hand side. Reaching striking distance, he swung, smacking the man’s hand with a nauseating crunch. The Protector released the whistle, allowing Ankit to grab and yank it free. Inhaling loudly and grabbing the hand in pain, he shouted, “Aargh, get back. I’ll have your fucking legs snapped!”
Good point. Ankit needed to buy himself some time. He turned, coming face to face with the Protector, and settled into a firm stance. He struck one more heavy blow, this time to the left knee. The man collapsed, putting both hands down as he did, inducing more pain in an almost certainly broken hand.
“Uugh!” He roared angrily. “I’m a fucking protector. I’ll butcher you!”
With the whistle in one hand and his club tucked away, Ankit made for the stairs. He was up in three strides and making for the tower when there was another noise below, a sickening crack, followed by something crumpling to the floor.
Ankit had barely hesitated and was halfway up when a familiar voice called up, “I think I can help you!” not loud, but clear. “Ankit? It is Ankit, isn’t it?”
He stopped. Bad, bad idea!
Stepping backwards down the stairs, he turned and walked over to the broken railing. Below, he saw the first Protector out cold in the middle of the floor. Another was crouched over him, checking his head and feeling for a pulse. It was Officer Kaarin.
When she was satisfied that her colleague was indeed unconscious, she looked up and spoke, “Two people, one I trust, and one I… respect, have vouched for you. They claim you have been set up—hung out to dry amid all that horror in Fishmongers.” she nodded in the direction of the city. “Does that mean something to you?”
Ankit remained silent, every bone in his body telling him to run, make his break and not look back. He could get to the roof, grab his things and disappear. She wouldn’t be able to catch him. Then he could fade away for a few more days and find another way out.
“You have no reason to trust me, but I’m tired of seeing this city waste good Freefolk. What you did for those orphans tells me something about you,” she paused and looked at him.
Ankit’s head dropped, and he found himself staring at her feet. He was tired. He no longer knew who to trust, where to go, or how he was ever going to get free of this city. His options were evaporating. He spoke quietly, ”I’ve been watching you. At the Gate.”
She nodded. “This city needs more people like you Ankit, but first, it needs… a change,” her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she spoke.
Ankit squinted his eyes, trying to make her out more clearly in the dark, the dust still hanging in the air like fog. She was standing tall, looking up at him.
An image suddenly popped into his head and he spoke without thinking, “Perhaps a new Champion.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” she smiled.
The Protector at her feet started to stir. Kaarin reached into her pocket. Ankit flinched before seeing that she had retrieved a large bronze key. She tossed it up to him, and he caught it cleanly.
“Do you know the old tannery, the one set into the wall just west of here?” she asked.
Ankit nodded. He knew it, the quirky old shop built into the wall. He’d considered it for a hiding place at one point.
“That’ll get you inside. It’s been long abandoned. Right at the back is an old pantry, and behind the shelves is a passage that leads out beneath the wall. Smugglers used it for Phungz and booze, and long before that, by the Araki during the Persecution. It’ll take you outside the walls.”
Ankit didn’t know what to say. He didn’t trust her, but he could see no other options presenting themselves.
“Promise me one thing. It’s all I ask in return. When the time comes, if we can take Refuge back from the Barons and their Gangs, come back? Come find me?”
He considered her for a while, then nodded. It was an easy promise to make. He didn’t see anyone ever being able to pull that off.
“You should go.” The first Protector stirred at Kaarin’s feet.
He turned and climbed the tower without pause. At the top, he grabbed his bed roll from its hiding place, rolled it up neatly and tucked it into his pack, which he slung over his shoulder. Then he dropped off the ledge.
Only a few minutes later, Ankit stood before the old Tannery. It was dark enough that no one was likely to see him enter, but he didn’t linger. The key slid in, and the lock turned. He felt a strong sense of relief as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him.
He found his way to the pantry and approached the shelves. Grabbing hold, he pulled hard, and they began to shift. He heaved again, and the whole panel pulled away. There it was before him, the tunnel, dark and musty. He imagined smugglers hauling crates, they faded, and he saw bent-over cultists, in disguise, hurrying along the passage.
Restoring the shelves behind him, he entered. When he reached the end, a small flight of stairs led to a hatch. With a shove, a showering of dirt and a deep breath of fresh air, it cracked open. The area around the hatch was obscured with dirt and bedded down by shrubs and grass, but with one last burst of effort, he had the hatch wide enough for him to pass through.
Ankit stepped out into the bright sun, his heart racing. He turned, closed the hatch, and covered it over again. He looked at the key, thought of his promise to the Protector, and tucked it safely in his pack.
Finally, he looked north. Ankit started to walk, feeling lighter with every step. Before he knew it, he was running.
Goodbye Refuge.
We’ll be back soon with another Journal entry, and next month with the next episode of Ankit’s story.
Illustrations by Midjourney & G.G.B.
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Love it! Looking forward to seeing where Ankit goes from here…
Pleased to hear there’s more to Ankit’s story….look forward to it!